It had been months since the family left. The scent markings Dad and Mom had left behind had long since evaporated, and in the wild, an unmarked territory is an open invitation.
Dad and Mom weren't ready to give up the home they had held for years. However, scenting the urine markers at the border didn't give them a clear identity of the squatter. They had to go in to find out.
Following them into the trees, James felt none of the warmth of a homecoming. Instead, his muscles were coiled tight, his eyes darting through the brush. A deep, primal sense of dread was gnawing at him.
"The new owner of this place is something else."
As they pushed deeper, the musky, rank odor of a massive carnivore became suffocating.
THUD! THUD!
A heavy, rhythmic pounding shook the earth. Something massive was moving toward them—and it was moving fast.
"ROAR—"
Dad and Mom opened their jaws, letting out a synchronized, thunderous warning. The chatter of the forest went silent instantly, leaving only the roar of a nearby waterfall. This was the power of an adult Smilodon—a sound that usually froze the hearts of every beast in the valley.
"ROAR!!"
But a second later, a deeper, more tectonic howl erupted from the forest. It was a storm of sound that seemed to vibrate James's very ribcage, echoing for miles.
A massive silhouette emerged from the shadows.
A female Giant Short-Faced Bear (Arctodus simus).
Seeing the family of cats, the bear lunged onto its hind legs. It stood nearly 4 meters tall, its long, powerful limbs anchoring it to the mountain soil. The fur along its spine bristled like a ridge of jagged stone. Massive blocks of muscle rippled across its shoulders and back, creating a terrifying wall of flesh and power.
"ROAR!!"
The bear gave another blast of sound, like a thunderclap at point-blank range. Dad and Mom instinctively recoiled, their hackles raised, their eyes reflecting a deep, calculated caution.
A Giant Short-Faced Bear.
They hadn't expected this. Even a prime Smilodon was dwarfed by this monster. The bear was more than twice their mass. Even with Mom and Dad working together, the risk of a fatal blow from those massive paws was too high.
The bear looked down at the cats, its posturing arrogant and territorial. It huffed a final eviction notice, a low, chest-deep growl that demanded they leave or die.
With its unparalleled size and raw strength, Arctodus simus was the undisputed heavyweight champion of the Pleistocene. It had the luxury of ignoring the threats of dire wolves, hyenas, and even the great cats like the American Lion or the Sabertooth.
"ROAR~~"
Retreat.
Dad and Mom didn't argue. They knew when they were outmatched. They turned and sprinted back the way they came. A territory wasn't worth a suicide mission against a giant.
James felt a bitter sense of helplessness as they fled. They had traveled thousands of miles only to find their home stolen by a bear.
"A Giant Short-Faced Bear... how much longer until I can even stand my ground against something like that?"
James thought as he ran. A Smilodon's natural limit simply wasn't enough to overpower a bear of that scale. He would need the system to break his racial constraints—to push his attributes beyond the peak of his species—if he ever wanted to reclaim his home.
The pride he had felt after dismantling the hyena clan vanished. Killing scavengers was one thing; looking up at the apex of the Ice Age was another. He wouldn't be the legend of this era until he could stand over the carcass of a Short-Faced Bear.
Once they were clear of the bear's range, the parents didn't waste time sulking. They had two choices: find unclaimed, barren land, or take someone else's.
Unclaimed land was usually resource-poor—starvation land. The second option was the only way to survive. You find a prime spot and you take it by force. As long as the opponent wasn't another giant bear, Mom and Dad were confident. They were in their prime, and they were hungry.
They headed toward the heart of the Rockies, scouting for a new kingdom.
"Looks like we're going on a home invasion," James thought, watching his parents' murderous intensity. It felt like a gang war.
They reached a vast, ancient forest where the canopy was so thick it looked like a rolling green sea from above.
"ANG... ANG..."
"ROAR ROAR ROAR!!"
Suddenly, the green sea erupted. Birds took flight in a panic, and the ground vibrated under a rhythmic drumbeat of hooves.
Through the shifting shadows of the trees, a small herd of Stag-moose (Cervalces latifrons) was fleeing in a frenzy.
Close behind them, a family of Xenosmilus was already settling in to feast on a fresh kill. This family consisted of a prime adult pair and two sub-adults, both over two years old. They were the undisputed rulers of this stretch of forest.
"ROAR~~"
The four cats began to tear into the meat. In their own territory, they were relaxed, enjoying the spoils of their hunt.
"ROAR—"
But the peace was shattered by a strange, aggressive challenge. The Xenosmilus family stopped eating, their heads snapping toward the source of the sound.
Invaders.
The adult pair stood first. Their claws slid out, and their serrated fangs glinted in the dappled light. Their short tails twitched and curled—a sign of total combat readiness. The two sub-adult sons, nearly as large as their parents but lacking the scars of true battle, moved into formation behind them.
They were weeks away from striking out on their own, but for now, they were part of the unit. They had a duty to defend the family land. James watched from the brush; the battle for a new home was about to begin.