Starcraft Universe, Planet Zerus

The scent of prey drifted through the hot, humid air. The young Primal Zerg's nostrils flared, taking in the complex mixture of pheromones and blood. A pack had passed through not long ago - their scents still fresh and strong.

The creature moved silently through the dense growth, its claws finding purchase on the rough ground as it darted between towering fungal structures. The acid pools to its left bubbled and hissed, their acrid fumes mixing with the metallic taste of blood in the air. One of the pack members was wounded - the sweet tang of their blood called to the hunter.

Its body flowed smoothly as it tracked them, muscles coiling and stretching beneath thin scales. The wounded one had fallen behind their pack. Alone, separated, vulnerable. The hunt would be easier this way.

The ground trembled beneath its feet - the great mountains in the distance spewing their endless fire into the sky. The hunter paid it no mind. Such things were normal here, as natural as breathing. What mattered was the prey ahead.

It could hear it now - labored breathing, the scrape of claws on stone, the occasional soft growl of pain. The hunter's vision sharpened as it drew closer, picking out details through the thick vegetation. The prey was larger, but its injury had weakened it. The hunter could smell the infection setting in.

The distance closed. Thirty lengths. Twenty. Ten. The hunter's muscles bunched, preparing for the leap that would bring it to its prey's throat. The timing had to be perfect. It gathered itself, calculating the angle, the force needed...

The hunter launched forward, but its claws caught on a patch of brittle growth. The snap seemed deafening in the humid air. The prey's head whipped around, eyes widening as it spotted the hunter mid-leap. Instead of sinking its teeth into the throat, the hunter crashed through a cluster of poison-filled pods, their contents spraying everywhere.

The hunt had just become much more complicated...

The burning sting of poison across its scales barely registered - the hunter's body was used to such things. The prey, though wounded, was now fully alert. It rose to its full height, nearly twice the hunter's size, mandibles clicking as it faced its attacker. The infection in its leg wound had weakened it, but cornered prey always fought hardest.

It lunged first, faster than its size would suggest. But the hunter was faster. It rolled beneath the strike, feeling the displacement of air as massive claws tore through where it had been. The ground trembled again, stronger this time, and the hunter used the momentary distraction to its advantage.

As soon as the prey stumbled from the tremor, the hunter leaped onto one of the massive fungal growths, using it as a springboard. Its body twisted in mid-air, an instinct as natural as breathing. Landing on the prey's back, its reinforced claws found purchase in the thick hide. The prey roared, trying to shake off its attacker, but the hunter had already sunk its teeth into the base of its neck.

Venom flooded from the hunter's glands, pumping into its prey's bloodstream. The prey thrashed, more desperate now. It slammed backwards into a rock formation, trying to crush its attacker. But the hunter had already moved, flowing around its prey's body like water.

The venom began its work. The hunter could smell the change in its prey's blood, see the sluggishness creeping into its movements. Still, it fought. They always did. The prey charged toward one of the acid pools, perhaps hoping to force a retreat. A foolish move. The hunter darted forward, its claws finding the tendons in the prey's legs. As it stumbled, the hunter struck at its throat again - this time from below.

The hunter's reinforced teeth tore through the carapace like it was nothing. Hot blood flooded its mouth, rich with essence. The prey collapsed, its final roar turning into a wet gurgle. Victory. Food. Essence.

The prey's blood and flesh filled the hunter with strength. The essence flowed through it, but there was nothing new to adapt - this one was strong, but simple. Like itself. As it fed, the hunter's senses remained alert. The prey's pack could return, drawn by the scent of death. But they wouldn't. Not with the sweet scents of easier prey carried on the wind.

A faint movement caught the hunter's attention. Something different. Not like the usual prey that stalked these grounds. The scent was... wrong. Strange. The hunter's head lifted from its kill, nostrils flaring. The movement came from beyond the thick growth of toxic spores, near where the ground split and burned.

The strange prey was more interesting than finishing the meal. The hunter left the carcass - others would find it soon enough. Following the scent was difficult. It kept disappearing, mixing with the acrid fumes from the burning ground. But the hunter knew it was there. Something new. Something different.

The hunter stalked closer, and its vision sharpened. The prey was moving with purpose, heading toward the high cliffs where the ground was more stable. It moved oddly, not flowing like a proper hunter should. Instead, it seemed to glide over the terrain, barely touching the ground. The scent grew stronger - metallic, but not like blood. Different. Wrong.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

The hunt became easier as the hunter tracked it up the cliffs. Here, away from the burning grounds and toxic spores, the trail was clear. Perfect. Every movement, every displaced stone told where it went. How it moved. What it was.

A deep rumble shook the ground. Stones tumbled down the cliff face. The prey paused, and the hunter saw it clearly for the first time. Its body bristled with spines - not like claws or teeth, but long, sharp protrusions that covered its back and sides. As it moved, the spines shifted and flexed. Some launched through the air, embedding themselves in a large growth of fungus.

The hunter's body trembled with anticipation. New. Different. Something to adapt. Something to become.

The ground shook again. Larger rocks broke loose from the cliff, but the hunter barely noticed. All its focus was on the spine-bearer. It hadn't noticed its stalker yet. The hunter moved closer, careful now. The last hunt had started poorly - this one must be perfect. The essence must be pure. Clean.

The spine-bearer turned its head, sensing danger. But it was too late. The hunter was already moving.

It launched several spines - sharp, deadly projectiles that whistled through the air. The hunter twisted, feeling them slice past its scales. One grazed its shoulder, drawing blood, but the pain was meaningless. What mattered was the hunt. The essence.

The ground trembled again, stronger this time. The spine-bearer lost its footing for just a moment. That was all the hunter needed. It lunged forward, its reinforced claws tearing into its prey's flank. The spine-bearer screamed - a high, piercing sound unlike anything the hunter had heard before. More spines launched, some glancing past the hunter's scales. The pain was sharp, but manageable.

They grappled on the cliff edge. The spine-bearer's defenses made it difficult to find purchase, but the hunter's venom was already working. Each bite pumped more toxins into its blood. The spine-bearer thrashed, trying to dislodge its attacker. It rolled, nearly sending them both over the edge where the ground burned far below.

The fight was brutal but quick. Venom slowly took hold, the spine-bearer's movements becoming sluggish. The last few spines it launched went wide. When the hunter's teeth finally found its throat, it barely struggled. Hot blood flooded the hunter's mouth, and with it came the essence it craved.

This essence was different. Complex. As the hunter fed, it could feel the changes beginning. The knowledge of spine-launching seeped into its body. Its scales shifted and rippled as new growths formed beneath them. The pain was intense but welcome. This was what it meant to evolve. To adapt. To become stronger.

The hunter continued feeding until nothing remained of the spine-bearer. The new adaptation settled into place - it could feel the spines forming beneath its scales, ready to launch at will. Twelve of them, each as sharp as its claws. They would regrow, it knew this instinctively. A new weapon. A new way to hunt.

The ground shook again, but something was different about this tremor. There was a new sound. A new scent.

The hunter turned toward this new disturbance, its fresh spines shifting beneath its scales, ready to be tested.

The creature before it was unlike anything it had ever encountered. Small. Weak-looking. No claws, no proper teeth. It stood on two legs, covered in strange not-scales that rustled when it moved. But what drew the hunter's attention most was its eyes - they glowed like the burning ground, but blue instead of red.

The creature made loud sounds, rapid and high-pitched. The sounds meant nothing to the hunter, but there was something in its scent - fear, thick and pungent.

The creature pulled something from its side - a small, dark object. The thing made loud cracks, four times. Each time it cracked, a small something whizzed past the hunter. Pathetic. Even the spine-bearer's attacks had been more threatening.

The creature's voice got louder, more frantic. Its arms waved around as it continued making those meaningless sounds. "...dimensional traveler... greatest golden finger... Zerus of all places... fucking Primal Zerg... doesn't matter... escape... become invincible..."

The blue glow in its eyes intensified. Something about that glow triggered the hunter's instincts. Prey trying to escape. It couldn't allow that. Wouldn't allow that.

All four feet pushed against the ground as the hunter jumped forward. The creature tried to make its thing crack again, but it just clicked uselessly. The fear-scent spiked. The blue glow in its eyes became almost blinding.

Too late.

The hunter's jaws closed around its head just as the blue light reached its peak. The creature's strange not-scales tore like wet vegetation. Its blood tasted different - wrong, but rich with something new. As it fed, the hunter noticed something hard in what remained of its head. Something that pulsed with that same blue glow.

The strange hard thing in its head pulsed faster as the hunter continued to feed. With each pulse, memories that weren't its own flooded into the hunter's mind. Strange images. Metal towers larger than the fungal growths. Creatures that moved without legs. Words. So many words, their meanings suddenly crashing into its thoughts like falling rocks.

The blue thing detached itself from the prey's remains. Before the hunter could react, it moved - burrowing into its own head. Pain exploded behind the hunter's eyes. Not like the pain of adaptation. Different. Wrong. More memories flooded in. Knowledge. Understanding.

The hunter was... it was...

The thoughts were confusing. Scattered. It knew things it shouldn't know. Understood things it had never seen. The prey was called... human. Adrian Thorne. This place was... Zerus. The hunter was... Primal Zerg. The blue thing in its head was... technology. Dimensional travel... special materials... energy from biomass...

The hunter's head throbbed. Too much. Too fast. The ground beneath its feet felt less solid. The air shimmered with that same blue glow that now pulsed behind its eyes. Everything started to blur, to shift, to change.

The last thing the hunter saw was Zerus - its hunting grounds, its territory - dissolving into streams of blue light. Then darkness claimed it, and it fell through space that wasn't space, through time that wasn't time.

When consciousness returned, the air smelled different. Wrong. The ground beneath the hunter's claws felt wrong too. Everything was wrong.

It opened its eyes to a world made of blocks.