I needed to slow down.
Not because I was in danger—if anything, the last few minutes had proven how not in danger I was—but because power without direction was just noise. Exciting noise, sure, but still noise.
I took stock.
I had a crocodile's body. A solid one. Durable. Amphibious. Strong. But it was also… limited. Grounded. Linear. Predatory in a very specific way.
I had options now.
I could hunt a bird—infect it, let my cells spread, take control. A bird's-eye view in the most literal sense. Aerial scouting. Mobility. Perspective. All while keeping the crocodile as a secondary body.
Or—
I could do the harder thing.
I could learn how to extract genetic material deliberately, without relying on infection and violent overwriting. Figure out how to take what I wanted cleanly.
I didn't get long to debate.
Two minutes later, a deer stepped into view.
It moved cautiously, ears flicking, hooves light against the dirt as it approached the water's edge. Vulnerable. Unaware.
I sighed internally.
Alright. Hard option it is.
I went still.
Completely still.
Not "holding my breath" still—log still.
I let my body slacken, drift, rotate just enough to mimic dead weight. Years—no, lifetimes—of existing as drifting cells made the act effortless. Currents nudged me forward. Inch by inch. No ripples. No intent.
The deer lowered its head to drink.
That was close enough.
I exploded into motion.
Jaws snapped shut around its neck with a wet, final crunch. Bone shattered. The deer didn't even have time to scream.
I dragged the body into the water before gravity could argue, muscles hauling the corpse under the surface where it belonged.
Now came the part I didn't actually understand—but somehow knew how to do anyway.
My awareness shifted inward.
Not fully. Just… focused.
The stomach was a chaos of enzymes and pressure, flesh breaking down under processes I hadn't consciously designed. My subconscious handled it, efficient and automatic, while I watched like a passenger who vaguely remembered reading the manual once.
Okay. Touch it. That's the idea.
I divided a cluster of cells along the stomach lining, extended them outward, let them make contact with the dissolving meat. Sensation bloomed—foreign, dense, structured.
I narrowed my focus further.
One cell.
I consumed it.
Information flooded in. Not memories. Not instincts. Just data—raw genetic architecture, elegant in its own way.
Satisfied, I pulled back.
My awareness expanded again, snapping back to the crocodile's full body. The deer's genetic blueprint unfolded before me, and without hesitation—
I reshaped.
Limbs thinned. Jaws shortened. Scales softened. Fur—
Water.
Cold realization hit the exact moment my lungs—deer lungs—tried to draw breath.
I was underwater.
I immediately started drowning.
"Oh, come on—" I thought furiously, reverting forms mid-panic. Scales snapped back into place, lungs reshaped, and I kicked upward, bursting to the surface in a spray of water and embarrassment.
I floated there for a second, mentally berating myself.
Brilliant. Truly brilliant. Apex intelligence at work.
Once I was in the shallows, half-submerged, half-grounded, I tried again.
This time, carefully.
I reshaped into the deer—but not fully.
Crocodilian scales remained beneath the fur, a hidden armor layered under disguise. Hooves formed. Legs adjusted. Balance recalibrated.
I stepped onto land.
The sensation was… strange. Lighter. Taller. Fragile in a way the crocodile had never been. But it worked.
I lowered my head, mimicked a deer's posture, flicked my ears the way I'd seen others do.
Then I walked.
Slowly. Calmly.
Away from the water, into the trees, just another animal moving through the world.
From the outside, I was prey.
From the inside, I was already planning what to become next.