The Dawn of Humanity (2)
After gaining the ability to walk upright, humans acquired two key weapons. The first was their pair of hands, capable of grasping tools. Lacking sharp teeth or claws, they compensated by wielding long tools from a safer distance to attack other animals. In particular, hurling rocks and other objects as ranged attacks allowed them to hunt beasts far larger than themselves.
The second weapon was their extraordinary endurance for long-distance running. Trading raw speed for stamina, humans pursued prey relentlessly until the animals collapsed from exhaustion. This not only enabled them to hunt but also vastly expanded their territory as they roamed farther.
Armed with these two advantages, the human population exploded. At first glance, it seemed like a golden age—but reality is cruel. Overpopulation led inevitably to shortages of food, living space, and resources.
To cope, tribes began expelling members to thin the herd. Well, it was only natural. They hadn't invented farming yet, fruit didn't grow year-round on trees, and hunts didn't always succeed. Sometimes, they'd stumble into dangerous predators mid-hunt, losing their prey—or their lives. Sure, luck could turn one kill into two-for-one, but that was rare. Most hunts ended in empty-handed retreats.
And so, the outcasts scattered across the world. Some perished in the harsh wilderness outside the tribe, but not all met that fate. Life adapts and evolves, after all.
When I created my first lifeforms—the slimes—I built in frequent mutations and evolutions. And mana responds to will, driving change. Put them together, and you'd see lizards fresh from the sea balloon into massive dinosaurs.
"This mutation's a bit unexpected, though."
I spotted a band of humans who'd settled in a frigid forest. About fifteen strong—too many for mere wanderers, but the area teemed with game despite the cold, so food wasn't an issue.
But that wasn't the point. These were humans. Giant humans. Twice, three times the size of normal ones. Did these things have a knack for growing whenever they got the chance? Seriously.
Their massive size jacked up their appetites, straining the group's resources a bit... but with the bountiful surroundings (cold aside), it wasn't a crisis. Uprooting trees as clubs to fell huge beasts, they looked less like humans and more like humanoid monsters. Watching them now, you wouldn't sense much intelligence anyway.
With bodies that huge and powerful, who needs brains? Or maybe evolution dumped everything into physical buffs at the expense of smarts. Whatever. Didn't matter to me. Giants added some flavor to the world.
Oh, and side note: local wildlife was bulking up too, probably thanks to the giants. Better to be giant-proof than get your skull caved in by a knuckle. I nearly jumped when I saw a deer rivaling their size—right before a tree-club smashed its head.
In the brutal wilds, size and mass were power... but sustaining it demanded massive calories, so populations stayed low. Lucky break. If those behemoths spread unchecked, it'd be chaos. Surprisingly, they hugged their niche—environmentally sensitive, I guess.
What's this... cold climates breeding giants? Bergmann's rule? Animals get bigger in the cold? Whatever. Not sure if it applies here—dinosaurs thrived in a warmer world without spirits, after all. Maybe the diverse climates from my kids made this possible.
Anyway, giant-watching time's over. Gotta scout elsewhere.
Subspecies Chapter: Giants
Giants are a subspecies boasting three times the height of average humans. Their intelligence is somewhat low, but they can communicate to a degree and make excellent laborers for the right price.
That said, proceed with caution. Never anger a giant. Hurling boulders or swinging uprooted trees, they're one-man armies. Even dozens of veteran adventurers struggle against one.
Once civilized a bit, though, they're fine companions—smashing obstacles in your path.
Many have coveted their strength, but all attempts to harness it failed. Reasons vary: reluctance to leave home, power loss in warmer climes, and above all, inability to grasp long-term contracts due to limited intellect.
Without the God of Wisdom granting them more brains, no army of giants will ever march.
Humans scattered far and wide in search of survival. Proto-humans first emerged in three spots: the northern, eastern, and southwestern continents. Those giants? A northern offshoot.
"Kyaooong!!!"
"Settle down."
I pinned a thrashing bipedal big cat by the scruff, fangs snapping at me. Wandering in human form meant dealing with wildlife like this. Annoying as hell.
Shifting to dragon? Instant pandemonium. No thanks.
"Kyaaang...."
"No puppy eyes are gonna save you."
Bipedal big cat—with front paws evolving into hand-like grips. Suspicious as heck.
Eh, monkeys climbed down from trees into primitives into giants. Why not critters turning humanoid? Lizardmen were ex-dinos who morphed aping dragons out of envy. Animals mimicking humans? Not weird.
Exhibit A: the furry menace in my grip. Cat beastkin. "Furry" popped right into my head. Sketchy.
Not just cats, either—wolves turning werewolf, cow-headed or pig-headed freaks everywhere. Kinda eerie. Would bipeds overrun and boot humans off the planet? Starting to worry.
"Kyaoooong...."
It gazed up with big, sparkly eyes. My scales shrugged off claws and teeth, but regular humans? Dicey. Beast-level smarts now, but if they evolved human-smart... trouble.
I sighed and chucked the cat-person far away. If humans advanced more, time for a gift. Direct meddling? Nah. But humans declining to beastkin? No thanks. Dragons and lizardmen or not, humans should lead.
A world of humans plus beastkin? Sounds fun. First gift?
Easy choice. Humans needed it desperately.
Time to play Prometheus. Let's give 'em fire.