I need to earn points to unlock the shop first, Thiago reasoned, his new predator's mind already calculating efficiencies. Then I can really accelerate.
Determination, cold and sharp, ignited within him. It must have shown in his eyes, for they glowed with a faint, dangerous crimson light for a second—a predator locking onto its prey. The prey, in this case, was strength itself.
He tried to stand. His new limbs were awkward, unfamiliar levers. Moving from a bipedal to a quadrupedal body was a profound, disorienting shift. He wobbled, almost fell, then found a shaky balance.
Weird. But if I move around, I'll adapt quickly.
The other tiger cub was still asleep, a small ball of fur. Thiago padded silently out of the cave.
The outside world stole what remained of his human breath.
A colossal, primordial rainforest stretched before him. Trees soared like living skyscrapers, their trunks wider than houses, their canopies lost in a distant green haze hundreds of metres above. The air thrummed with alien life, thick with the scent of damp soil, rotting vegetation, and strange, sweet flowers.
Holy sht. This is… absolutely amazing.*
He would have exclaimed it aloud, but all that came out was a puff of air. Right. No speech. He'd have to get used to that, too.
He moved into the undergrowth, his senses thrillingly alert. Every rustle of a leaf, every distant call, was parsed by instinct. A flicker of movement to his left. The same rabbit-deer creature. The screen tagged it instantly.
[Rabeer]
[No Cultivation]
Perfect. An easy first target. No cultivation, just like him, and smaller.
He didn't bother with stealth. He burst from the ferns in a streak of black. The Rabeer froze, its simple brain registering danger too late. A single, practiced swipe of his claw—a motion that felt unnervingly natural—opened its throat.
Wow. First try. Maybe I am a born hunter. A thread of dark pride wound through him.
Now, for the real test. Black hole.
He activated the skill. A strange, pulling sensation originated from deep within his throat. A tiny, terrifying singularity—a pinprick of absolute nothingness—formed inside his mouth. It swirled, a vortex of pure void that seemed to drink the light around it. He lowered his muzzle to the warm carcass.
The Rabeer's body disintegrated. Not into gore, but into shimmering, ethereal streams of glowing essence. An innate, instinctual choice presented itself in his mind: [Absorb Essence] or [Convert to System Points].
He chose essence. Foundation first. Points later.
Warmth, sweet and potent, flooded his limbs. A slight but undeniable increase in raw power. A hint of growth in his bones. It was a whisper of strength, but it was his.
And it was addictive.
He became a blur of black fur, scouring the forest floor for more. Minutes later, he emerged at the edge of a vast, grassy plain. His breath hitched. Hundreds of Rabeers grazed peacefully, a sea of brown fur and twitching ears, utterly oblivious.
A direct charge would scatter them like leaves in a storm. He needed efficiency. Maximum yield.
He stalked the perimeter, using the tall, golden grass as cover. A silent, low-to-the-ground approach. A Rabeer, isolated, nibbling contentedly. A sudden pounce. A swift, killing bite to the spine. Black hole. Essence. The sweet warmth again.
He repeated the cycle. A silent ghost reaping a grim harvest. Five Rabeers fell before the herd noticed anything amiss.
After the fifth kill, as the essence melted into his cells, the notification he'd been waiting for chimed in his mind.
[Congratulations! You have advanced: 1st Tier of the Novice Realm]
Cultivation. The dream of every webnovel reader back on Earth. A laugh, silent but fierce, bubbled up inside him. Haha! Finally, I am a cultivator now! Isn't this every cultivation novel reader's dream? And I, Thiago, achieved it. Now it really begins. My conquest of strength!
He allowed himself three seconds of fierce jubilation. Then he ruthlessly composed himself. Sentiment was a luxury. Growth was a necessity.
Alright. Let's continue.
He abandoned stealth. He was a 1st Tier cultivator now, a wolf among sheep. The Rabeers panicked, bleating in terror, but they couldn't defend themselves. They could only flee, and he was faster. He cut them down, a whirlwind of claws and teeth, painting the green grass a brutal, spreading crimson.
Another notification, not long after.
[Congratulations! You have advanced: 2nd Tier of the Novice Realm]
Yes! Another realm!
He paused, chest heaving. About eighty Rabeers remained, huddled in a terrified mass in the very centre of the plain. The grass here was shorter, grazed down. They saw him coming.
He didn't care. He plunged into the heart of the herd, and it was pure carnage. When the last of the stragglers vanished into the tree line, he stood panting amidst a field of carnage. The ground was littered with bodies. Not many had escaped.
Time to harvest.