'Wait… am I overestimating its intelligence?' Ben hesitates, watching the creature closely. 'Maybe it's not as smart as I thought. Maybe it's just copying movement, like a dog responding to a trick—not actual understanding.'
The creature's eyes flicker with confusion for a moment. Then, slowly, it moves its own limb—but unlike Ben, its sharp nails carve a real line into the mushroom's surface. Ben's interest piques. 'This could be useful'. If he could tame this thing… find more of them… they'd make excellent guards. Maybe even breed them, start a ranch—But his thoughts are cut short.
"ROOOARR!!!" A monstrous roar rips through the silence, shaking the air. Ben's head snaps toward the source.
[Your Krell Scout has perished!]
Just moments ago, Ben sensed his Krell encountering somethin. And now, it was dead. His grip tightened as his pickaxe materialized in his hand, ready for combat.
Then, the ground trembled. The shaking grew stronger like a stampede. Then—they emerged.
