Their weapons were primitive and terrible from a modern perspective, but it was exactly these that, in theory, carried humanity on its back for millions of years. One could say that these weapons were custom-made for humans.

Three things made humans the great hunter-gatherers they are to this day: their ability to communicate, which allowed them to coordinate with others; their relentless persistence in tracking prey; and their phenomenal ability to throw objects.

Primitive communication existed in most species, but it lacked the refinement enabled by vocal cords. This refinement allowed not only the imitation of other animals to lure them into traps, as cats do to catch birds, but also enabled humans to share information among themselves and with their descendants. From that point on, they no longer needed to learn everything on their own based solely on observation, which was unreliable.

The human body, unlike that of other animals, can sweat to cool down. Their upright posture, strong glutes, long leg muscles, and small toes all enhanced their ability to run, enabling them to walk long distances and take down faster prey without overheating.

The harmonious and perfect anatomy of their arms, combined with their upright posture, allowed for extremely precise and powerful throws, never before seen in the animal kingdom.

Stark understood all of this clearly. His senses were sharp and focused, his mind alert as he moved slowly through the forest. His steps were light, and his body crouched low. The daylight was an advantage for him, as the sun would certainly never set, but it also made him an easy target in the forest. This led him to throw dirt and leaves over himself, trying to mask his presence.

He carried several crude spears tied to his back, with a stone blade in his hand, ready for any attacker. His goals remained the same as before—to be a good hunter and gatherer, studying the fauna and flora until he found something he could eat without dying, more than once.

His attention was drawn further ahead, where some of the rodents had spread out. Their population here was more sparse. His eyes gleamed when he noticed this, the suggestion that there was another hunter nearby was both ominous and exciting.

‘I just have to be smarter than him, and soon he'll be roasted…’ He crept closer to the rodents that hadn’t yet noticed him, caught one, and using some of the leaves he transformed into cords, tied it to a stone.

He stood silently beside it, covering himself with a pile of leaves, trying to blend into the wild surroundings. When ready, he brought his knife close to the small animal and made a cut along its sides.

The animal's screams could tear his soul in two, loud and piercing. The smell of blood was strong, surely capable of attracting whatever was hunting him. Stark waited silently.

Seeing that it was taking a while and the animal’s cut was already closing, he made another one, and the creature’s agonizing screams echoed through the forest. In the distance, some animal was slowly approaching. It looked like a wolf, with short black fur, brown eyes, and low ears, advancing cautiously.

Stark observed all this calmly, prepared to deliver a single, lethal blow to the large dog. But, betraying his expectations, the animal also hid nearby, behind a tree.

Several rodents passed by it, but instead of reacting, it remained motionless, expressionless, resting its head on its paws patiently. Occasionally, some of the rodents would approach it and climb on top, but it remained still.

After a few more minutes in the silence of the forest, another hunter appeared. It was smaller, resembling a small jaguar, with equally short fur, large whiskers, claws, and teeth. Its gaze was cautious, shifting back and forth from the spot where the bait was placed. It circled the area, trying to detect any potential danger, eventually deciding to approach slowly.

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Curious, Stark allowed the animal to get closer. They were face to face. The small cat gave a few swipes at the rodent, seeing it react and realizing it was fresh prey. Finally, it relaxed and grabbed it with its mouth.

On the other side, from behind a tree, the canine slowly approached, its teeth exposed, its body low and sharp as an arrow, ready to pounce. By the time the feline noticed, it was too late—the dog was right beside it, its entire head inside the dog's mouth, screaming as it was shaken from side to side.

Once the dog had calmed down, it was Stark’s turn. He lunged like lightning, his knife aimed at the animal’s neck, mercilessly stabbing it. The dog immediately released the cat and tried to flee, barking. From behind, the hunter pulled one of his spears, calmly taking aim while the dog ran for its life, one hand outstretched to steady his posture.

Releasing all the tension accumulated, the spear struck the dog’s hindquarters. It barely had time to recover before collapsing, its movements interrupted. It tried to rise and limp away, only to be met again with a spear to its chest.

Stark calmly approached. The animal still tried to resist in any way it could, its breathing slow and weak as it growled.

He then took the spear, aimed at its head, and delivered the final thrust—the mercy blow. He removed all the spears from the body and aligned them on his back again. With his knife, he began skinning the animal, a task in which he had little experience, but he managed to get by. The meat was pale pink, and though fresh, it seemed spoiled for many days.

"Surely it still contains some toxin. The fruits can only be eaten by the rodents, which are eaten by the felines, and they by the canines. Skipping the order in the food chain certainly doesn’t seem like a pleasant idea for any of them."

Removing the bones, which had better and sharper tips, he crafted new, more suitable tools.

The animal's hide was somewhat resistant and could be more useful if treated properly, but it also served other purposes. By making holes with a bone needle, he passed his cord through them and tied a knot, creating a small pouch to store some resources. With the rest, he reinforced part of his clothing, making it more resistant.

He gathered the materials and lit a small fire, trying to cook the meat, attempting to at least reduce the effects of whatever toxin it might contain. The canine was already too large and dangerous for him to hunt casually. If it had been in a group, Stark would have let it pass.

He drew some blood from the animal and drank it, his face contorting in agony. Blood was a poor resource for hydration. It was rich in iron and sodium and could contain a range of pathogens.

The meat was soon ready, and upon placing it on his lips, he noticed the unusual acidity as it slid down his throat, the unpleasant and bitter taste overwhelming his senses. After finishing the hardly enjoyable meal, he looked at his own skin. The purple marks had spread further, becoming more vivid, and the threat was becoming more serious with every passing second.

"There are bigger creatures around here. The farther I go, the more there will be. And the bigger they are, the higher up in the food chain they are, with fewer toxins in their bodies, making them safer to eat." He wiped the dirt from his mouth and stood up again, looking for signs of these creatures. Tracks had to be somewhere. They had to be!

Another way to find them would be through feces. As far as he knew, no animal was exempt from that. Any small trace could signal the presence of life that would be converted into energy for him.

During the fight, he didn’t use the juice from the fruit he presumed was poisonous to everyone present. The reason was simple: the meat would be more contaminated, making it inedible. He would only use it in case he couldn’t handle the creatures, intending to escape.

"How strange..." He raised his hand and began to squeeze it. His hands were firm and strong, despite being calloused. In recent days, he had exercised more than he had in his entire life. He only endured it because, in the end, his current body was a magical product. But still…

"I should be getting weaker from the poison, so why do I feel more... alive?" His vitality was deteriorating, so he was sure of it. But his body felt stronger, his muscles seemed to be getting tougher and more resilient, and his mind felt sharper, knowing what to think and do.

"I studied all of this throughout my life, with just a little bit of practice, so why does it feel so natural? As if I was made for this..." He shook his mind off these thoughts, he still needed bigger prey