Intelligent Design: A Monster Evolution LitRPG

The sun crept over the horizon like a timid child, painting the sky in watercolor strokes of pink and gold. David watched with mild amusement as his Cuddlebugs tore into the massive corpse before him, their tiny bodies a whirlwind of fur and focused savagery. The creature - whatever it had been - hadn't stood a chance against the swarm once it was down.

"Ouch, motherfucker," David hissed, gripping another tooth embedded in his wing with his own fangs. With a sharp yank, it came free with a wet pop. He spat it aside, watching it bounce across the grass. "That's what, number six? Seven? Starting to feel like a pincushion up here."

The world spread out beneath him in a patchwork of twisted beauty. Ancient mountains thrust skyward to the west, their peaks wreathed in morning mist. To the south, barely visible on the horizon, a slate-gray line marked the ocean. The landscape between was a riot of mutated vegetation, broken occasionally by the bones of the old world - crumbling overpasses, abandoned towns, rusted monuments to humanity's former dominion.

"Hell of a night," he muttered, yanking free another tooth with a grimace. "Flying fart squids, mystery bone-snipers, and whatever the fuck that electric catfish thing was supposed to be. At least those two idiots made it out alive."

His mind drifted back to the Users he'd rescued - their faces a perfect picture of shock when he'd dropped out of the sky like some avenging demon. The catfish-thing had nearly had them, its serpentine body crackling with electricity as it slithered through the underbrush. Getting shocked had hurt like a bitch, but watching them sprint toward Riverport while screaming "Thank you scary bat Jesus!" almost made it worth it.

The directional pull toward Claire tugged at his consciousness, stronger now than the whisper it had been hours ago. Still maddeningly vague, but progress was progress.

A series of satisfied chirps drew his attention back to the feeding frenzy. The Cuddlebugs were finally starting to slow down, their tiny bellies distended but not quite enough to ground them. They waddled more than hopped now, switching from nightmare mode to "adopt me" faster than David could blink.

"Y'all are ridiculous," he snickered, then his own stomach growled loudly at the smell of fresh meat. The scent was intoxicating - rich and gamey with an undertone of something almost electric, like ozone after a storm. His mouth watered as he approached the carcass.

The first bite sent flavors exploding across his tongue - sweet and wild and complicated in ways his old human taste buds could never have appreciated. The meat was dense but tender, falling apart in his mouth like perfectly cooked steak. Each bite seemed better than the last, and David found himself tearing into the creature with increasing enthusiasm for a good while.

"Good god," he mumbled around a mouthful, "I'm eating like I've got a tapeworm the size of a python."

Movement in the underbrush caught his attention. His ears swiveled toward the sound as he lifted his head, strings of meat still dangling from his jaws. A quick pulse of Echolocation revealed dozens of small creatures lurking in the shadows - everything from what might have once been rats to things that defied description. They watched the feast with hungry eyes, waiting for their turn at the remains.

"Yeah, yeah, food bank's opening soon," David muttered, noting that strange insects had already begun to claim the underside of the carcass. He sniffed the air, searching for fresh water to wash down his meal. The ocean's briny scent kept throwing him off - everything smelled like water, just not the kind he needed.

After several circles of confused sniffing, he finally caught the sweet scent of fresh water. With a lazy leap, he took to the air, gliding through the twisted landscape until he found the source - a tiny stream barely wider than his old human hand. The water sparkled in the morning light, clear and inviting.

The Cuddlebugs joined him at the stream's edge, forming an oddly orderly line - some before him, some after - as they all bent to drink. The water was blessedly cold and clean, washing away the last traces of his meal.

His reflection rippled in the mostly calm water - massive ears, a face that was equal parts bat and nightmare, and deep set eyes that glowed with an inner light that promised violence. Wickedly curved fangs peeked out from beneath his lips, and his thick fur rippled with shadows that seemed to move of their own accord.

"Metal as fuck," he quoted with a grin, remembering the caravan guard's reaction. "Can't argue with that assessment."

Then, in a moment of pure impulse, he plunged his entire snout into the stream and blew bubbles, sending ripples dancing across the surface. The memory of Claire doing the same thing, trying to hide her childish delight, made his heart ache even as he smiled.

The Cuddlebugs, seeing a new game to be played, immediately began copying him. Soon the stream was alive with tiny bubble trails until one particularly ambitious fuzzbag shoved its entire head underwater. David had to quickly fish out the spluttering creature as it thrashed in panic, dropping it on the bank where it sneezed and coughed dramatically.

"And that's why we don't try to outdo the professionals," he chuckled, before noticing that the poor thing couldn't seem to breathe.

David quickly snatched them again and dangled the sputtering Cuddlebug upside down from his wing talons, watching with growing concern as water dribbled from its tiny nose. The rest of the Team clustered around, chirping worriedly as their companion hacked and wheezed.

"Come on, little guy," David muttered. "Don't make me explain to Claire how I let one of you drown in a puddle."

Captain buzzed anxiously near his head, projecting a jumble of concerned images. Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably closer to thirty seconds, the waterlogged Cuddlebug's breathing steadied. It managed to grip David's talon with its own tiny claws, hanging like a rather pathetic bat.

"There we go. Maybe next time don't try to breathe the water, yeah?"

The sun climbed higher, making David's eyes ache. He squinted against the growing brightness, scanning the twisted landscape for shelter.

"Look, I know some of you probably love daylight but…," he told his fuzzy companions as they took wing, "these eyes weren't made for daylight. Sure, I learned to deal with it, but that doesn't mean I enjoy the constant headache. So let's catch a nap, or at least find somewhere shady."

Below them, creatures began emerging from the underbrush, drawn to the abandoned corpse. David caught glimpses of teeth and claws as nature's cleanup crew got to work.

They flew low over the terrain, David's keen eyes searching for somewhere dark enough to crash for a few hours. The landscape gradually changed, wild forest giving way to the familiar ruins of civilization. A city sprawled ahead, its name lost to time and transformation.

"Can't be Charleston," David mused, banking slightly to maintain his heading toward the coast. "Too far north for Savannah... maybe Brunswick?"

The name felt wrong on his tongue, but his musings cut short as his eyes landed on something that looked like it had been torn straight from a horror movie. A carnival stretched across the outskirts of the city, its rusted rides reaching toward the sky like skeletal hands.

Captain's sudden whine caught him off guard. The mental connection between them flooded with want/curious/please, focused laser-sharp on something within the carnival grounds.

"Seriously?" David peered down at the deteriorating attractions. "That's like asking to star in our own slasher flick."

But Captain's pleading intensified, backed by a chorus of interested chirps from the others. With a resigned sigh, David banked toward the entrance.

"Fine, but if some clown monster tries to eat us, I'm blaming you."

The rusted sign creaked above them as he touched down, clinging to its post by a single corroded bolt that looked ready to give up at any moment. Beneath its illegible face sprawled a graveyard of childhood dreams - countless booths and stalls stretched into the distance.

The Cuddlebugs scattered immediately, their tiny forms darting between weather-beaten attractions. Some investigated a ticket booth whose windows were clouded with decades of grime and mold, its metal surfaces painted in patterns of rust that looked unsettlingly like dried blood. Others fluttered around gaming stalls where stuffed prizes had long since dissolved into lumps of mildewed fabric, their glass eyes staring sightlessly from behind rotting countertops.

The morning breeze carried the mingled scents of decay, rust, and stagnant water, underlaid with something else - something thick and organic that made David's hackles rise. Tattered banners fluttered weakly overhead, their colors long since bleached to uniform gray by sun and rain.

Pop-up canopies sagged beneath the weight of years, their metal frames twisted into abstract sculptures. A ring toss booth still bore faded paintings of smiling faces that now seemed to leer in the half-light, their expressions rendered grotesque by peeling paint and water damage. Nearby, a basketball game's backboard had collapsed inward, creating a dark maw that seemed to swallow what light reached it.

Even the ground beneath their feet told a story of abandonment - cracked asphalt sprouted twisted vegetation between its fissures, the plants themselves somehow wrong in ways that were difficult to pin down. Here and there, the remains of paper cups and ancient wrappers crumbled into dust, stirred by the passage of the morning breeze

Okay, totally creeped out right now. I don't like this…there better not be a clown. I think I'd shit my pants if I even saw a poster of one right now.

David slunk after Captain, his instincts screaming that this place was wrong. The little creature led him deeper into the carnival, past collapsing attractions and down a small sidewalk.

The merry-go-round appeared through the morning mist, and David stopped short. Thousands of CDs hung from its canopy like some demented wind chime, their faded surfaces catching what little sunlight penetrated the gloom. The Cuddlebugs froze, utterly transfixed by the gently swaying discs.

While his companions stared, enchanted, David's nose caught old, familiar scents. Blood. Fear. Death. The evidence was everywhere once he started looking - dark stains on the platform, patches of rancid fur clinging to the metal, a nest of rotting blankets near the central pole.

"Someone thought this was sanctuary," he muttered, piecing together the grim puzzle. Another bloodstain caught his eye, then another. "More than one someone."

His gaze tracked to the far side of the ride, where a violent gap had been torn through the curtain of CDs. The discs had been some kind of defense - noise makers, maybe, or just reflective surfaces to keep something at bay. But whatever they were meant to guard against had eventually broken through.

The whole scene painted a clear picture to his predator's instincts. Multiple victims, picked off one by one during an ambush in what they'd thought was safety. The CDs might have worked for a while, but eventually...

Why CDs? Because that's what they had? Because they're shiny? Just a screen to make noise? Why not just leave? …Okay, nah. Nah. Nope. Something fucky happened, even by my standards.

A sharp hiss escaped David's throat as he spread his wings. The Cuddlebugs snapped out of their trance, responding instantly to his signal. As they rose above the merry-go-round, movement caught his eye - something small and quick, darting away from his presence.

A house of mirrors loomed against the brightening sky as David gained altitude, its weathered frame a patchwork of broken glaas. What caught his eye wasn't the building itself, but the remains of desperate fortification around its entrance. Wooden pallets, chunks of carnival stalls, even an overturned popcorn cart - all had been piled into a makeshift barrier. Now they lay scattered like discarded toys, splintered and bent not from external assault, but from something bursting out.

As David watched, something shifted in the shadows beyond the entrance - a whisper of movement too quick to track.

"Yeah, no," David growled, his wings beating harder as he pulled away from the carnival grounds. "I've got better things to do than star in 'Night of the Whatever-The-Fuck.' Like finding my oversized lizard before she gets into more trouble than I do."

The sound of his wingbeats echoed off the mirror house's facade, coming back warped and hollow, as if the building itself was mocking his retreat. He could have sworn he heard something else responding from within - a soft scratching, like claws on glass.

He didn't look back as they fled the carnival's haunted silence, but the image of those shattered barricades stayed with him, along with the certainty that something in that place was very, very wrong.

David poured Wildsoul into his wings, not caring if it looked like overkill. Something about that place had set off every predatory instinct he'd developed, and he wasn't about to ignore them just to look cool.

"Captain," he called over the rush of wind, "we need to talk about your taste in tourist attractions."

The tiny creature chirped questioningly, still radiating disappointment at their hasty departure. Their fascination with the glittering CDs had completely blinded them to the warning signs scattered throughout the carnival.

"Look, I get it. Shiny things are cool. I promise I'll find you something awesome to play with that isn't in the middle of..." David waved a wing vaguely behind them, "whatever the hell that was. But right now? Not the time."

Captain's confusion radiated through their mental link. With a sigh, David pushed back the memories he'd collected - bloodstains on rusted metal, torn fur caught in machinery, scattered bones and signs of desperate last stands.

The effect was immediate. Captain nearly dropped from the sky, catching themselves with a violent beat of their wings. A hiss of pure fury escaped their tiny form, but David could feel the self-directed nature of their anger. The sensation of failure/shame/protector flooded their connection.

"Hey, none of that," David said firmly. "Everyone gets distracted sometimes. Hell, I once almost got eaten because I was too busy trying to figure out if I could lick my own elbow."

The admission seemed to help, Captain's emotional storm settling into something closer to embarrassed acceptance. The rest of the Team chirped reassuringly at their leader, clearly sharing David's sentiment.

A gleam of metal caught David's eye - a water tower rose from the urban sprawl ahead, its rusted bulk sporting a jagged hole near the bottom. The sight of it triggered his own comfy spot-sensing instincts like a dinner bell.

"Now that," he said, banking toward the structure, "looks like prime real estate. Dark, defensible, and probably dry inside. What do you say we call it a morning?"

As David and his summons vanished into the urban maze, the carnival sat silent in the growing light. But not empty. In the house of mirrors, something stirred in the deepening shadows. Movement rippled through the fractured reflections as enormous eyes, black as the space between stars, tracked David's retreating form through broken panes of glass. They never blinked, never wavered, drinking in every detail of his flight path with maddened intensity.

The thing that owned those eyes began to move, sliding through the carnival's ruins with practiced silence. It had been so long since something interesting had drawn its attention. So very, very long.

And it hadn't survived all this time by letting interesting things simply fly away.