Once his younger pride-mates had their fill, his petite sister and the strong-willed cousin, Leon, gave a silent nod, allowing the orphaned cub and the other cub to feast next.
The orphan, clearly starving, lunged for the eland carcass and tore into it without hesitation. Though still young, his appetite and speed were surprisingly aggressive.
Leon didn't mind. With his belly full and his wounds from the earlier battle healed by the power of evolution, he returned to his sun-warmed resting stone and lay down, letting the heat soak into his dense golden fur.
The cave now brimmed with meat. Even if the lioness mothers returned, they'd find more than enough to eat. Leon had risked death to bring that downed leopardess and eland back. He deserved some rest.
As he dozed, the smallest of them all, his little sister, curled beside him, her tiny frame nestling into the side of his much larger one. The soft rumble of her breathing made him lower his guard. He shut his eyes.
Evening settled quickly. Out here on the open plains, dusk came in a blink.
When Leon stirred again, he noticed that the lionesses still hadn't returned. He padded over to the cave entrance and looked out across the windswept grasslands.
What greeted him was a thick, swirling wind and a haze of red dust already beginning to rise into the air. The temperature dropped suddenly. Even with his thickening coat, he could feel the sting in the wind.
A storm. A dust storm was coming.
His brows furrowed.
That might explain the absence of the pride's adult hunters. Perhaps they'd caught wind of the storm and taken shelter elsewhere—wisely so. The pride boasted seven adult lions. As long as they didn't antagonize the powerful beasts of the southern range—the rogue elephants or the other dominant animals —few threats could threaten them.
Even the leopardess Leon had fought earlier, ferocious as it was, wouldn't dare face an entire lion pride. It would've retreated with its tail tucked beneath it.
"They must've sensed it early," Leon thought, gazing at the reddening sky.
No panic showed on his face. There was no need. The cave's supplies were plentiful. The eland carcass alone would last the cubs several days.
Leon padded a slow circle around the mouth of the cave. He made sure no other predators had followed the scent trail. Satisfied with the perimeter, he returned quickly. The wind outside stole warmth with every step.
Back in the den, he saw his sister still fast asleep beside the stone. The orphan and the ash-pelted cub were curled in a corner, snoring quietly. The orphan had taken the liberty of using the other cub as a pillow.
Leon smirked at the sight. "Shameless brat."
Only Cousin remained awake, her amber eyes watching the cave mouth like a soldier on duty.
Leon gave a low, deep growl, commanding. Cousin met his eyes, nodded with a soft purr of acknowledgement, and stepped aside.
In her mind, Leon was no longer the scrawny cub she once ignored.
He was their provider now. Their protector. The one who brought food and returned bloodied but standing. In the wild, strength was truth. And Leon had shown them strength.
Cousin had begun to see him the same way she looked at the lion fathers—an alpha among cubs.
The night passed without issue.
Leon had rested during the day. So as the cubs slept, he stood vigilant. The howling wind outside grew fiercer. Dust lashed against the stone walls of the cave. Small prey beasts scrambled for shelter in the distance.
Then came an odd fluttering.
A pale-feathered shape stumbled through the dust and into view—a Desert hawk, blinded and disoriented by the storm.
It tried to take shelter in the cave.
But Leon moved first.
With a burst of explosive speed, he leapt, body curving in midair like a golden streak. A paw swiped downward.
Snap.
The hawk hit the stone floor with a thud, wings crumpling.
It was a beautiful thing, black-capped head, sleek feathers, long crimson-tipped beak. If Leon had still been a man—Leonidas, the student of Archaeology, he might've paused to study it.
But now, as Leon, apex predator, he barely glanced at it. He tore the feathers with swift efficiency and devoured them.
Ding! The host has consumed Desert Hawk meat. Gained 1.5 Evolution Points.
Ding! The host has consumed Desert Hawk meat. Gained 1.3 Evolution Points.
Small prey. Barely three points. Still, it was a reward for guarding through the night.
Leon yawned, massive jaws parting as dawn light filtered into the cave.
One by one, the cubs began to stir.
The ash-pelted cub tried to stretch, only to get pounced on by the orphan in a playful skirmish. The two tumbled around, yowling and batting at each other.
But no more bullying. Not after Leon had taught the orphan restraint.
His little sister soon joined Cousin for some half-hearted playfighting. Occasionally, she padded back over to Leon, pawing at his side or attempting to pounce on his tail.
He barely moved.
"Not interested in cub games," Leon thought, resting his chin on the stone. His eyes barely cracked open. Despite everything, part of him still clung to human instincts.
But hunger stirred again. He rose and summoned the cubs with a rumble.
It was feeding time.
Once more, Leon ignored the eland carcass. Its flavor was better, yes. But the leopardess…
The leopardess gave Evolution Points.
Ding! Host has consumed leopardess meat. Gained 2 Evolution Points.
Ding! Host has consumed leopardess meat. Gained 1.8 Evolution Points.
Ding! Host has consumed leopardess meat. Gained 1.6 Evolution Points.
Each bite brought a slow surge of power through his blood. He could feel his body growing subtly stronger, his instincts sharper.
This was how he would rise.
Not just to survive—but to rule.