It had been several days since Matias took in the young Carnotaurus. He didn't think of himself as the calf's parent—he wasn't the type for that—but for now, the role of caretaker was his. The wild didn't wait for the unprepared, and if he left the little one alone, it wouldn't last a day.
He'd named the boy Ace, after the Carnotaurus from Dinosaur King. The name fit. Stubborn. Headstrong. Full of defiance, even when hungry or tired. Matias respected that.
Ace had adapted quicker than Matias expected. The calf no longer flinched at his presence, instead falling in step beside him on hunts. Sometimes, when the air was calm and the sun was low, Ace would nudge him—challenging him to a playful shove or quick burst of speed. Matias indulged him.
It wasn't hard to coordinate with the calf; his Velociraptor traits made it natural. A twitch of his tail, a low growl, a shift in posture—Ace understood it all. They moved together like they'd been hunting partners for years.
Still, Matias knew this was temporary. One day, Ace would be strong enough to leave. Until then, he would teach him everything the wild demanded.
The two eventually found their next target—a towering Acrocanthosaurus atokensis.
It was a monstrous sight, standing nearly as tall as a small building, with a sail-like ridge running along its spine. Its hide was a mottled mix of earthy browns and charcoal gray, perfect for blending into the forest shadows. Thick, muscular legs supported its bulk, while long, clawed forearms twitched with a predator's restless energy. Its skull was long and narrow, lined with teeth like jagged ivory blades—perfect for shearing through bone.
Normally, predators avoided hunting other predators. It was risky, costly, and often not worth the energy. But Matias had a reason—one that outweighed the risk. And Ace… Ace needed the experience.
Matias growled low, his eyes locked on the Acrocanthosaurus. Ace returned the growl, understanding the signal. They fanned out, Matias circling wide while Ace moved to the opposite side, their movements silent and precise.
The Acrocanthosaurus caught a scent. Its head jerked up, small eyes narrowing, scanning the treeline. It had just enough time to turn before Matias exploded from the brush, his powerful legs propelling him forward like a living missile. His claws raked deep across the giant's flank, tearing through flesh and sending a spray of hot blood into the air.
The Acrocanthosaurus bellowed in fury and snapped its massive jaws toward him, teeth closing with a bone-shaking crack. Matias ducked under the strike, twisting away as Ace barreled in from behind, sinking his growing teeth into the predator's tail.
The Acrocanthosaurus roared and swung its tail like a club, throwing Ace back into the undergrowth with a crash. Matias surged forward again, slamming his body into the giant's side with enough force to stagger it. His claws found purchase on its ribs, and with a savage twist, he ripped open a fresh wound.
But the Acrocanthosaurus was no easy prey. It lunged, its jaws clamping down on Matias's shoulder. Pain flared white-hot, but Matias didn't retreat—he roared into its face, his own teeth snapping shut on its neck. They grappled like titans, thrashing, the ground tearing beneath their weight.
Ace reappeared, charging full force into the predator's hind leg. The impact made it stumble, and Matias seized the opening—his claws plunged deep into its throat, and with a violent jerk, he tore through windpipe and artery alike.
The Acrocanthosaurus let out a strangled, gurgling cry before collapsing to the forest floor, the ground trembling from the impact.
Matias stood over the carcass, chest heaving, blood dripping from his jaws. Ace limped back to his side, eyes blazing with adrenaline. The calf roared triumphantly, and Matias gave a short, approving growl in return.
The two began to eat their prey, with Matias feeling the familiar surge of power ripple through him — his jaw tightening with new strength, his muscles becoming denser yet retaining their supple flexibility. It wasn't the most dramatic change, but it was another step forward.
Ace, however, seemed far more fascinated by watching than eating at first. The young predator's amber eyes followed every movement, tail flicking with quiet excitement as if proud of its guardian's growing power.
Matias finally stopped and stepped back, the carcass still half-intact. He nudged it toward Ace with a low, approving rumble.
"Go on."
Ace chirped — an oddly small, almost puppy-like sound for a creature its size — and eagerly tore into the meat. It wasn't the ravenous frenzy of a wild predator, but the enthusiastic chewing of someone enjoying a gift. Matias stood nearby, keeping watch, the corners of his mouth curling ever so slightly in something that, for him, was almost a smile.
==========
Four years had passed since the disastrous incident at Jurassic Park on Isla Nublar — an event that had left InGen's reputation fractured and its investors wary. In the wake of mounting losses, John Hammond's failing health had forced him to cede control of the company to his ambitious nephew, Peter Ludlow.
Now, inside the sleek boardroom at InGen's headquarters, Ludlow stood before a wall of projected charts and glossy concept art. His tone was confident, almost rehearsed, as he addressed a table full of skeptical investors.
"Gentlemen, ladies… what happened on Isla Nublar may have been a failure." Ludlow declared, gesturing toward the images.
"HOWEVER! I assure you my plans will provide massive profits upon reopening the park in new manaagement."
One of the older investors, a man with sharp eyes and a habit of tapping his pen against the table, leaned forward.
"Peter, forgive me, but your uncle's park was supposed to be foolproof. And it ended in lawsuits, fatalities, and worldwide embarrassment. Why should we believe you'll fare any better?"
"Because we've learned from those mistakes," Ludlow replied smoothly.
"Isla Sorna — Site B — was our production facility. It's been left untouched for years, meaning dozens of healthy, living specimens are still roaming free. This is not about rebuilding Jurassic Park on a remote island. This is about relocating select specimens to a controlled, urban facility."
A younger investor frowned. "And how do you propose to capture animals the size of buses and ship them across the ocean without incident?"
"With the right team, tranquilizers, and transport equipment — all of which we've already secured," Ludlow said, voice firm.
"Our new facility in San Diego is nearly complete. Think about it — a stadium where guests can safely view these creatures up close, year-round, without ever setting foot on a dangerous island."
The room murmured with a mix of intrigue and unease.
"You make it sound easy," one of the more cautious board members said.
"But we don't know the condition of these animals. They've been living in the wild for years. Who's to say they'll even survive capture… or that something worse hasn't happened out there?"
Ludlow dismissed the concern with a practiced smile.
"They're just animals. Large, yes — dangerous, of course — but manageable. All they need is to be brought under human control again. I assure you, there is nothing on Isla Sorna we can't handle."
Unbeknownst to everyone in that polished boardroom, something else had taken root on Site B — something far more dangerous than Ludlow's reports suggested. And it was waiting.
Far from the polished boardrooms of InGen, the air on Isla Sorna was thick with the scent of damp earth and prehistoric musk. The jungle canopy swayed in the late afternoon breeze, sunlight glinting off the jagged teeth of a predator stalking its prey.
Matias crouched low, every muscle in his body coiled like a drawn bowstring. Ahead of him, grazing on ferns near a muddy creek, was an Ankylosaurus — a living tank of the Cretaceous.
Its body was a fortress of bone and muscle, covered in massive oval plates fused into its hide. A thick, muscular tail ended in a boulder-like club, swaying slowly as it fed. Each step was deliberate, the ground trembling faintly beneath its weight. Its small eyes scanned the undergrowth with surprising alertness, and even from here Matias could see the old battle scars along its armored flanks — proof that this was no docile grazer.
Ace, silent as shadow, circled from the opposite side, his eyes fixed on the armored giant.
Matias knew the danger. Unlike the swift and slashable carnivores, Ankylosaurus was a beast built to endure punishment and deliver it back in bone-shattering force. This wasn't going to be a quick kill — and he relished the challenge.
The moment came when a branch snapped under Ace's weight. The Ankylosaurus froze, nostrils flaring, and turned its head just enough to catch movement from the corner of its eye. With a deep, rumbling bellow, it swung its tail in a warning arc that split the air with a whistle.
Matias didn't hesitate. He lunged forward with terrifying speed, his claws raking against the armored hide in a screech of keratin on bone. The plates deflected most of the blow, but he'd drawn first blood, a thin trickle of red running between the armor segments.
The Ankylosaurus roared and swung again — this time with deadly intent. The club came in like a wrecking ball. Matias twisted aside at the last heartbeat, the force of the swing smashing a tree trunk into splinters.
He grinned.
Ace darted in, his teeth snapping for the softer flesh of the legs, but the Ankylosaurus shifted with surprising agility, the club sweeping low and forcing Ace to leap back or risk a shattered skull.
Matias closed the gap again, this time feinting left before vaulting onto the creature's back. His claws dug between the armor plates, muscles straining as the massive herbivore thrashed violently, nearly throwing him off.
The Ankylosaurus bucked, twisted, and slammed sideways into a tree, the impact knocking the wind out of him. But Matias held on, jaws snapping down into the base of its neck where the armor was thinnest. His teeth sank deep, hot blood flooding his mouth.
The armored beast roared in rage and pain, swinging its tail wildly. One blow clipped Matias' ribs, the crack audible even over the sound of battle, but his grip didn't falter.
Finally, with a violent wrench, he tore free a chunk of flesh, and the Ankylosaurus stumbled to its knees. Ace moved in for the final blow, clamping his jaws around the throat and ending the struggle.
As the massive creature went still, the jungle grew quiet again.
Matias stood over the kill, chest heaving, his ribs aching but his eyes alight.
He recovered quickly, the deep bruises along his ribs fading within minutes as his rapid healing went to work. Without hesitation, he tore into the kill, muscles flexing with each bite. Warm blood streaked his jaws, and with every mouthful, something within him shifted.
A low vibration hummed through his bones as the traits of the Ankylosaurus fused into his being. Ignoring the flickering notification in his mind, Matias focused on the sensation — the slow, deliberate weaving of armor beneath his skin.
It began at his shoulders, jagged ridges pushing through like the spines of some ancient war-beast. Thin yet unyielding plates formed along his chest and flanks, their texture a dark, matte charcoal that absorbed the light.
His forearms grew ridged bracers of natural bone, each one capable of turning aside claws and teeth. The plates interlocked seamlessly, leaving only the most flexible joints exposed, granting him full mobility while rendering him nearly impervious to conventional attacks.
His silhouette changed subtly — bulkier across the torso, heavier at the forearms and thighs, his form now a fusion of predator and living siege engine. When he moved, the faint scrape of armor on armor whispered like a warning to any who might challenge him.
With this new layer of protection, he knew the next hunt — the last hunt — would be easy. Soon, nothing on Isla Sorna would be able to contest his claim as Apex predator.