Arthur stood, his newly hardened carapace reflecting the faint light filtering through the water. He scanned the environment, senses sharpened by the recent evolution. The dark water around him was still, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

I need more. The hunger still gnawed at him, more controlled now, but ever-present. He had tasted power, felt it crawl through his veins and reshape him. And it wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.

He would need more creatures. More cores.

He turned his attention to the distant glow of the Scorching Badlands. Something about that place called to him. A primal instinct, perhaps, or the system itself nudging him toward his next challenge.

But then, reality hit him like a cold slap.

Not yet.

Arthur clenched his jaw. His body was stronger, yes, but it wasn’t enough. Not for that. The Badlands were a crucible, and he knew instinctively that if he set foot there now, it would be a death sentence. His newly strengthened form still felt too sluggish in the water, too raw and unfinished. The hardened carapace offered protection, but he hadn’t grown nearly enough. He was still small, still vulnerable.

Whatever roamed the Badlands would tear him apart if he went now.

The hunger inside him churned, dissatisfied with his reluctance. It gnawed at him, whispering to take the risk, to push forward regardless. But Arthur pushed it back. He needed more power—more evolutions—before he could even think about setting foot in that molten wasteland.

Survive first. Evolve later.

He turned his gaze away from the Badlands, focusing on the dark, murky depths of the ocean around him. This was his domain for now. The primal ocean. Here, he could hone his instincts, test his limits, and prepare for the challenges ahead. He would take his time. He would devour more, grow stronger, and when the time came, he would be ready for the Badlands.

Arthur’s tail swished behind him as he moved forward, slower this time, more deliberate. His senses extended outward, feeling for any sign of movement, any potential threat—or prey. He had no intention of fighting something beyond his ability just yet, but he couldn’t afford to stop either. His path forward was clear: eat, grow, evolve. And repeat.

As he moved, the system's cold presence lingered at the edge of his consciousness, like a distant observer. It had given him a tool, a means to track his progress and guide him through this new world. But he knew there had to be more. He couldn't rely on it blindly—he had to push himself further than it allowed.

Still, his thoughts kept drifting back to that pull from the Badlands. That primal call, urging him forward, testing his patience.

I’ll get there, he promised himself. But only when I’m ready.

Arthur continued to move through the water, his hardened carapace making him feel more stable, more secure. The dark, oppressive weight of the ocean was no longer as threatening. His muscles worked with more precision, each step deliberate, each motion filled with intent. He was learning.

But he still had a long way to go.

*

The primal ocean was vast, dark, and unforgiving. Arthur moved through it with a newfound sense of purpose, his muscles now better attuned to the weight of the water around him. The hardened carapace across his body had begun to feel natural, as though it had always been a part of him. Each step he took on the murky seabed sent ripples of power through his limbs, but he knew better than to overestimate himself.

The glow of the Scorching Badlands was a distant memory now, no longer a pull that occupied his every thought. Instead, Arthur focused on what lay in front of him—this watery expanse filled with threats and opportunities alike. He moved cautiously, but not out of fear. This was his world now, and survival wasn’t just instinct anymore; it was strategy.

He couldn’t afford recklessness. Not yet.

The eerie silence of the ocean was broken by a sudden shift in the water. Arthur froze, his senses prickling. Something was nearby. Not large, but close. He turned his head, scanning the surroundings. The water was thick, visibility low, but he could sense it—movement in the dark, a ripple that wasn’t natural.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

Another predator, he thought, bracing himself.

His claws dug into the seafloor as he crouched low, his body tensing for the inevitable confrontation. The silence stretched on, and then—there. A flicker of movement. A flash of scales.

It lunged.

Arthur barely had time to react as the creature barreled toward him from the shadows. It was fast—faster than the crab from before. A long, sinuous body, sleek and sharp, with glistening scales that reflected the faint light of the distant surface. It was about his size, though more streamlined, built for speed rather than raw power.

Arthur twisted, his reflexes sharper now, his body moving with more precision than before. The creature's jaws snapped shut inches from his throat, its teeth missing him by a hair’s breadth. He lashed out with his claws, striking at its side, but the creature was already darting away, weaving through the water with frightening agility.

Damn! It’s fast!

He backed up, keeping his eyes locked on his opponent. The creature circled him, its yellow eyes gleaming with predatory intent. It was testing him, looking for an opening. Arthur growled low in his throat, his hardened carapace gleaming under the dim light. He’d made the right choice—he could feel it now.

The creature lunged again, faster this time, aiming for his exposed underbelly. Arthur twisted, using his tail to deflect the blow, but the creature’s speed was undeniable. It darted to the side, landing a strike against his flank.

The impact was jarring, but Arthur barely felt it. The hardened carapace absorbed the blow, deflecting the creature’s sharp teeth with ease. He hissed in satisfaction. His decision to evolve his armor had been the right one. Without it, that bite might have torn through him. But the creature wasn’t done.

It came at him again, its movements rapid and relentless. Arthur struck out with his claws, aiming for its head, but the creature ducked under the blow, circling him in a blur of motion. He could feel the weight of his carapace slowing him down. He was stronger now, yes, but heavier too. His opponent was faster, more agile, darting in and out like a shadow.

A glancing blow struck his shoulder, and though the armor held, it was enough to stagger him. Arthur growled, frustration gnawing at him. He needed to be smarter, to use his surroundings.

The creature lunged once more, but this time, Arthur didn’t dodge. He held his ground, letting the creature’s teeth scrape harmlessly against his armored side. It recoiled, confused by the lack of damage. In that moment of hesitation, Arthur struck.

His claws connected with the creature’s flank, tearing through its thin scales. Blood clouded the water around them, a deep red swirling in the blue. The creature shrieked, its body twisting violently as it tried to escape, but Arthur wasn’t about to let it go. Not now.

He lunged forward, slamming his body into the creature, using his weight to his advantage. The hardened carapace made him more resistant to damage, but it also gave him an edge in brute force. The creature writhed beneath him, slashing at his belly, but the blows were weak, desperate. Arthur pressed down harder, his claws sinking into the creature’s flesh.

It fought back viciously, twisting and snapping, but Arthur had the advantage now. He drove his claws into its side, feeling the life drain from it with each passing moment. The creature’s movements slowed, its struggles weakening.

For a moment, Arthur hesitated. He could end it now, tear into the creature’s core and take its strength for his own. But there was a lingering doubt. This was no mindless battle for survival. This was something more. His thoughts, sharp and clear now, whispered that this was a fight for dominance.

He needed to finish it.

With a final, decisive strike, Arthur tore into the creature’s throat, silencing its frantic thrashing. The body went limp beneath him, and the ocean around them stilled once more. He stood there, panting, his heart pounding in his chest.

The water was thick with blood, and the taste of victory lingered on his tongue. He had won. But the cost had been higher than he expected. His body ached from the fight, his muscles straining under the weight of the carapace. His decision to evolve had saved him, but it had also made him slower, more vulnerable to faster opponents.

I need more.

The thought came unbidden, a primal urge pushing him forward. He needed to evolve again, to grow stronger, faster. The carapace had been the right choice, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

He leaned over the creature’s body, feeling the warmth of its core pulse beneath the surface. His claws trembled with the urge to devour it, to take what it had and make it his own. The system was silent for now, but he could feel it watching, waiting for him to make his move.

Arthur hesitated for a moment, the hunger gnawing at him once more. He knew what he had to do. But there was no rush, not this time. The creature was defeated, and the ocean around him had fallen into silence once more.

He could feel the pull of the system in the back of his mind, the faint whisper that told him to consume, to grow. But for now, he needed to rest. The fight had drained him more than he cared to admit, and he wasn’t sure what would happen after he took in the core.

Later, he decided, stepping back from the body. The ocean had given him this victory, but he wouldn’t rush into his next evolution blindly.

Arthur turned, scanning his surroundings for any other threats. The primal ocean held many secrets, and he wasn’t naive enough to think he had seen the worst of it. He needed to be ready for what came next. And that meant being patient.