With a deep sigh, Traebus decided he needed to reset his priorities. Experimentation could wait. If they didn’t have food, he wouldn’t have the energy to work on anything, and considering the mess that was his life, starvation was not how he intended to go out.


    "Alright, Dusk, Sparky—go hunting. We’re running low on meat, and unless we all suddenly develop a taste for enchanted stone, I’d rather not go to bed hungry."


    Dusk flicked his tail in understanding, his frills shifting as he turned toward the jungle, and Sparky, after a moment of indecision, let out a crackling chirp before darting after him, practically zipping ahead in an excited blur.


    With them gone, Traebus exhaled and rolled his shoulders. He wasn’t about to sit around doing nothing while they worked. He flexed his fingers, feeling the faint thrum of mana through his rings, then moved to a clear space in front of the house. With a steady pulse of earth magic, he conjured a simple stone table and chair, adjusting them to just the right height before plopping himself down with a satisfied sigh.


    "Now," he muttered to himself, "time to make something actually useful."


    He began crafting small stone objects—basic tools, test carvings, and runed focus stones, trying to work out more efficient ways to channel his magic. His mind buzzed with ideas, potential improvements, and—just maybe—a way to better integrate enchanted materials with his limited resources.


    After a moment, he glanced at the small lizards lounging nearby, their tails flicking lazily in the sun. A grin slowly crept across his face.


    "Alright, I need a volunteer."


    One of the smaller lizards perked up at his words, tilting its head before scuttling forward, curiosity overriding any sense of self-preservation. Traebus grinned, retrieving a small stone amulet he had just finished carving. The rune-inscribed pendant was embedded with a fire-imbued stone, a crude but functional enchantment meant to provide warmth—or, in a controlled setting, a minor boost to fire affinity.


    "Alright, little guy, let''s see how this works," Traebus muttered as he fastened the necklace around the lizard’s neck. The small creature blinked, flicking its frills, then trilled as it hopped in place. Nothing happened.


    Traebus frowned. "Huh. Okay, I was expecting something to—"


    Before he could finish the thought, the lizard promptly reached up, grabbed the enchanted stone in its tiny jaws, and swallowed it whole.


    Traebus froze. The other lizards froze. Even Dusk, from a distance, lifted his head in what could only be described as sheer disbelief.


    "Oh, come on! Again?!" Traebus groaned, throwing his hands up. "Do you guys just assume everything is food?!"


    The lizard, unfazed by his exasperation, let out a delighted trill before suddenly shivering. A faint glow pulsed from within its belly, and then—FWOOMPH—its frills ignited in a burst of flame.


    Traebus barely had time to react before the newly blazing lizard darted in a frantic circle, panicked chirps echoing as it tried to figure out what was happening. The other lizards scattered, chittering wildly as the tiny fire hazard sprinted across the ground, leaving singed footprints in its wake.


    Traebus buried his face in his hands. "I have got to start making non-edible enchantments."


    And then the real chaos began.


    The flaming lizard, in its panic, sprinted toward the other small lizards, who immediately scattered like a startled flock of birds. One dove under the stone table, another shot up onto the nearest ledge, and one simply bolted in a random direction, screaming in high-pitched chirps of pure terror.


    The fire-lizard, now fully realizing it was on fire, took its panic to new levels. It ran in tight, frantic circles before launching itself at Traebus, presumably for help.


    "Nope, nope, NOPE!" Traebus yelped, throwing himself sideways off his chair just in time to avoid being tackled by the living fire hazard. He hit the ground in an ungraceful heap as the blazing lizard skidded across the stone, leaving scorch marks in its wake.


    Dusk, who had returned just in time to witness the chaos, stopped dead in his tracks. He took one long look at the scene before him—the small lizard literally on fire, the others trilling in abject horror, and Traebus rolling away from the imminent doom of setting his entire base ablaze. He blinked once. Then twice. Then let out the deepest, longest suffering sigh Traebus had ever heard from a lizard.


    Sparky, meanwhile, watched all of this with his usual vibrating excitement, clearly enjoying every second of the unfolding disaster.


    "Somebody stop it before I lose everything to stupidity!" Traebus shouted, scrambling to his feet.


    Dusk lunged forward, expertly swiping his tail in a wide arc. The flaming lizard was abruptly flung through the air—only to land directly in a pile of loose dirt.


    For a brief moment, everything went still.


    Then, with a series of frantic, muffled chirps, the fire-lizard began thrashing, kicking up a storm of dust and ash as it scrambled to escape its impromptu burial. The other small lizards, seeing an opportunity, leaped into action—quite literally. They began hopping and diving onto the struggling inferno, sending plumes of dirt flying everywhere in an effort to smother the flames.


    Traebus coughed and waved a hand in front of his face as the dust cloud thickened. "I—ack!—appreciate the enthusiasm, but maybe aim better?!"


    The lizards paid him no mind, determined in their chaotic method of fire suppression. Dusk, standing to the side with his usual look of long-suffering patience, flicked his tail once before stepping forward. With a single, calculated sweep of his powerful foot, he kicked up a perfectly aimed avalanche of dirt, burying the flaming lizard completely.


    A tense pause followed.


    Then, the mound of dirt wiggled. A single snout poked out, followed by two blinking eyes. The lizard let out a triumphant trill—before sneezing out a small puff of smoke.


    Traebus exhaled and slumped back against the stone table. "Yeah. That one’s on me too."


    Before he could even catch his breath, a chorus of excited trills erupted around him. The other small lizards, having fully processed what had just happened, now gathered in a semi-circle around him, tails flicking and eyes gleaming with anticipation.


    A cascade of mental images flooded Traebus’s mind—fire, lightning, waves of raw energy, the sensation of power surging through tiny bodies. Each lizard was practically vibrating with excitement, their collective pleading so intense that it was like being hit with a mental battering ram of give us cool powers too.


    Traebus groaned and dragged a hand down his face. "Oh, for the love of—Fine! You all want elemental nonsense, huh? Just a big pile of overpowered gremlins?"


    The lizards trilled in absolute agreement.


    Dusk, ever the voice of reason, let out a thoughtful rumble and imparted a far calmer set of feelings—concern, curiosity, and a distinct sense of Are you sure about this?


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    Traebus shot him a weary look. "Do I even have a choice? Just look at them!" He waved a hand at the chaotic horde of tiny, excitable lizards, their eyes gleaming with way too much anticipation. "I’m doomed. If I don’t do this, they’re going to start cramming every enchanted thing they find down their gullets just to see what happens. And we both know it’s going to happen when I’m not looking. Probably when I’m asleep."


    Dusk let out a slow exhale that radiated the resigned patience of someone who had long since accepted their fate. He imparted a single, dry thought—That does seem likely.


    Dusk chuffed, conceding the point, though he still radiated wariness. He sent over a thought-image of the small lizards evolving too quickly, losing control, possibly becoming threats rather than allies.


    Traebus frowned, rubbing his chin. "Yeah, I get it. Power without control is a problem. But if they’re already eating enchanted items, I’d rather guide the process instead of waking up one morning to an army of pint-sized kaiju."


    Dusk tilted his head in acknowledgment but added one last, firm image—Balance.


    Traebus sighed, waving a hand. "Yes, yes, we’ll be responsible about it. No flinging random magic into their faces and hoping for the best."


    The smaller lizards, meanwhile, were still hopping excitedly, their mental bombardment now reaching deafening levels of DO IT NOW.


    Traebus let out a slow breath, massaging his temples as he resigned himself to his fate. "Alright, alright—one at a time. No biting, no pushing, and for the love of all things sane, no eating the enchantments before I explain what they do!"


    The lizards all trilled in agreement, though Traebus remained highly skeptical of their ability to follow instructions. Still, he waved a hand at the first in line, a small, sharp-eyed one who flooded his mind with images of gusting winds, open skies, and weightlessness.


    "Air, huh? Alright, that I can work with."


    He carefully crafted a small charm inscribed with wind-aligned runes, focusing on lightness and speed rather than outright destruction. He hesitated for a brief moment before securing it around the lizard’s neck—only for it to stare at him, then promptly swallow the charm whole.


    Traebus groaned, rubbing his face. "I should’ve seen that coming."


    The lizard’s body twitched, and suddenly it shot into the air, its tiny limbs flailing as it unintentionally soared several feet before slamming into the ground with a startled thump. A moment later, it shook itself off, trilled excitedly, and launched itself into the air again—this time managing to glide rather than plummet.


    The next lizard stepped forward, radiating images of crashing waves and deep currents. "Water affinity, huh? Alright, let’s try something a little less airborne this time."


    He carved a rune of fluidity into the next stone, handing it over. The moment the lizard swallowed it, its scales darkened slightly, taking on a glossy sheen. It flicked its tongue experimentally—only for a jet of water to shoot from its mouth, blasting one of its siblings in the face.


    The newly drenched lizard hissed in outrage, shaking itself off before stepping up with a clear mental image of rolling stone and deep caverns. Traebus chuckled. "You want earth? Figures someone would go for stability."


    This time, he embedded the charm into a rough collar, which the lizard surprisingly didn’t eat outright. Instead, the moment it settled around its neck, the little creature stomped a foot—and the ground beneath them rumbled slightly, sending dust skittering across the stone.


    The last lizard came forward, radiating an intense mental impression of power. Not just energy, but something raw, volatile—something that crackled at the edges of existence. Traebus arched an eyebrow. "Lightning’s already taken. You’re going for—oh. Plasma? You want plasma? Oh, that’s going to be interesting."


    After a moment of thought, he carved out a much more delicate rune, one focused on controlled energy rather than wild destruction. The lizard swallowed it immediately—Traebus didn’t even try to stop it—and its frills sparked with a barely contained glow. A second later, it opened its mouth and let out a soft hiss—followed by a thin, concentrated beam of sizzling energy that scorched a perfect line into the stone table.


    Traebus stared. "Okay. So that’s a thing."


    The newly-empowered lizards bounced with excitement, testing their abilities in short bursts—until, one by one, exhaustion finally caught up to them. With satisfied chirps and trills, they flopped over into a loose, chaotic pile and promptly fell asleep, little embers, gusts, or sparks occasionally flickering from their bodies as they dozed.


    Traebus sat back, rubbing his face. "I have made a mistake."


    Dusk, watching the whole process unfold, simply snorted and flicked his tail in what could only be described as I told you so.


    Traebus exhaled, rubbing his temples as the tiny elemental lizards snored away. Then, as the realization hit him, he narrowed his eyes at Dusk.


    "Wait a second. You’re the only one who didn’t get an element." He pointed an accusatory finger at the large lizard. "You’re just standing there all smug while the gremlins get their toys. What about you?"


    Dusk tilted his head, his frills flicking as he considered the question. A long pause followed before he imparted a single, vivid image—shadows stretching, swallowing the light, consuming the very concept of darkness itself.


    Traebus blinked. "Well… damn. That’s metal as hell."


    Dusk huffed, clearly pleased with his own dramatic flair.


    With a sigh, Traebus rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. "Alright, big guy, shadow magic it is. But I’m not just slapping a rune on a rock and calling it a day. This is gonna need craftsmanship."


    He set to work, conjuring a piece of smooth obsidian and carefully carving deep, intricate runes into its surface. Unlike the others, this wasn’t a simple affinity charm. No, this was something more refined—he needed it to bind with Dusk in a way that enhanced his natural stealth and fluid movements while giving him an actual edge in combat.


    Minutes stretched into nearly an hour as Traebus worked, ensuring every rune was precise. He etched in absorption sigils, anchoring glyphs, and even a small personal mark of his own, signifying the first true artifact of his new life. The obsidian pulsed faintly, as if drinking in the dim light around them.


    "Alright, here’s the deal," Traebus said, holding up the finished piece. "I highly suggest you wear this like a civilized being and not—"


    Dusk promptly flicked out his tongue, snatched the obsidian piece from Traebus’s fingers, and swallowed it whole.


    There was a long, painful silence.


    Traebus clenched his jaw, inhaled deeply through his nose, and exhaled in a slow, controlled breath. "You absolute menace."


    Dusk merely sat there, unbothered, as his form began to shimmer. His scales darkened subtly, taking on a muted sheen, and the shadows around him seemed to bend just slightly at the edges, clinging to his form.


    Traebus swore loudly, throwing his hands in the air. "Oh, fantastic! Of course! Why not?! Just go ahead and eat the carefully crafted artifact that took me an hour to make! That’s totally what I intended!" He dragged a hand down his face as he spun in place. "You absolute walking disaster—how do I even begin to—"


    Then he turned back, only to find that Dusk was no longer there.


    "Oh, hell no."


    His eyes darted around wildly, his frustration morphing into mild panic. "Oh, that is not okay. That is too much stealth. Where are you?! Don’t you dare just—"


    Dusk reappeared a few feet away, his form shimmering back into view as if he had simply stepped out of reality for a moment. His frills flicked in clear amusement, a low rumble in his chest that sounded suspiciously like laughter.


    Traebus jabbed a finger at him. "You do not get to laugh right now. I will turn you neon just to make a point!"


    Dusk tilted his head, confusion radiating from his bond. The concept of ''neon'' clearly meant nothing to him.


    Traebus exhaled sharply, then grinned wickedly. "Oh, buddy, let me educate you."


    With deliberate focus, he sent a mental image so garish, so heinous, it could only be described as an assault on good taste itself—an absolutely blindingly bright, highlighter-yellow men’s bathing bottom, complete with clashing hot pink stripes and a level of glow that made it look radioactive.


    Dusk recoiled, his frills flaring in what could only be described as existential horror. The sensation that came back to Traebus was an immediate, visceral NO.


    Traebus barked out a laugh. "Yeah, that’s right. You behave, or I will make you the most eyeball-meltingly bright creature to ever walk this land."


    Dusk huffed, shaking himself as if trying to rid his mind of the mental image, his displeasure rolling off him in waves. But beneath the irritation, there was an undeniable hint of reluctant amusement.


    Traebus smirked. "Now that’s a lesson you won’t forget."


    With the lizards, Dusk, and Sparky all dealt with—whether through sheer chaos or begrudging cooperation—Traebus finally turned his attention to the one member of his growing, ragtag group who had remained utterly silent through the entire escapade.


    His three-horned companion was standing partially behind the corner of the house, watching warily. Its large, intelligent eyes flicked between Traebus, the still-glowing remnants of his latest magical disaster, and the other lizards who were passed out cold from testing their newfound elemental powers.


    Traebus crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "What? You judging me? You think you’re above all this madness?" He gestured broadly at the lizards, one of whom was now happily sparking like a living fusebox. "Because, buddy, let me tell you—being part of this crew means signing up for an entire lifetime of nonsense."


    The three-horn let out a long, measured exhale, its gaze steady, unreadable.


    Traebus sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re the only responsible one here. I respect that. But don’t think you’re getting away entirely unscathed. I still gotta figure out what you want."


    The three-horn hesitated, then slowly stepped forward, its movements careful, deliberate. There was wariness in its eyes, but not distrust—more like it was still weighing the situation, still deciding whether Traebus was worth putting faith in.


    Traebus softened slightly. "Alright, big guy. Let’s figure you out."