With the others still recovering from their respective enchantment-induced chaos, Traebus turned his full attention to the three-horn. The massive reptile stood calmly, still regarding him with an air of quiet skepticism. Unlike the excitable lizards or even Dusk, there was a weight to this creature, a sense of steady patience that made Traebus feel almost ridiculous for the absurd antics that had just unfolded.


    But if there was one thing he was, it was persistent.


    "Alright, let''s talk upgrades," he mused, rubbing his hands together. "You''re already built like a battering ram, but there’s always room for improvement, yeah?"


    The three-horn huffed, shaking its head slightly, as if already resigned to whatever nonsense was coming.


    Traebus began listing out options, pacing in front of the beast like a professor deep in thought. "First, we could go with the basics. Enhanced strength, durability—something to make you even tankier than you already are. Maybe reinforce your horns to be sharper, stronger? Or maybe something more defensive? Like natural armor that can actively repel attacks?"


    The three-horn blinked slowly. No immediate reaction.


    "Alright, alright. Maybe elemental infusions? Dusk got shadow, Sparky got lightning, and the little gremlins have a whole elemental buffet going on. What about something like earth reinforcement? Imagine being able to root yourself in place and be completely immovable. Or maybe fire? I mean, a charging inferno of death sounds cool as hell."


    Still nothing. Just a slow, patient stare.


    "Fine, fine, let''s go practical. Enhanced stamina? Faster healing? Some kind of regenerative ability? Or even mana absorption? Maybe something to fuel any latent magic you might already have but just haven''t tapped into yet?"


    The three-horn let out a low rumble, shifting slightly. That, at least, had sparked some interest.


    Traebus grinned. "Aha! See? Now we’re getting somewhere. Let’s test some things."


    He conjured a series of small enchanted charms—one for endurance, one for reinforcement, and one to enhance the creature’s natural magic, if it had any. He carefully placed them in front of the three-horn and stepped back. "Alright, big guy. Try ‘em out."


    The reptile regarded the charms, then—without hesitation—ate them. Traebus didn’t even try to stop it. At this point, he was fully resigned to the fact that everything in this world just ate magic.


    A moment passed. Then another.


    The three-horn let out a long breath and… stood there.


    Traebus waited. He squinted. He tilted his head. "Anything? Feeling different? Stronger? Smarter? Magical?"


    The three-horn blinked. Then, slowly, deliberately, it turned its head to meet his gaze with the absolute flattest expression a reptile could possibly manage.


    Traebus threw his hands up. "Oh, come on! You mean to tell me that even after eating three separate enhancement charms, nothing happened?!"


    Dusk, who had been watching from the side, chuffed in amusement.


    The three-horn merely huffed again and flicked its tail, clearly unimpressed.


    He groaned, rubbing his temples. "Okay, fine. Looks like we’re dealing with a whole different set of rules here. Guess I need to go back to the drawing board. Maybe your enhancements need to be passive rather than activated. Or maybe they take longer to kick in? Ugh. Magic biology is such a pain."


    The three-horn, unconcerned with his frustrations, simply lowered itself onto the ground, watching him with the quiet patience of something that had all the time in the world.


    Traebus sighed. "Alright, fine. We’ll figure it out. Just don’t expect me to let this go. You will get an upgrade, and I will make you awesome. It’s just a matter of how."


    The three-horn closed its eyes as if to say, Do whatever you want, just let me nap.


    Not one to give up easily, Traebus continued experimenting. He crafted a few more charms—some focused on enhancing agility, others designed to bolster raw physical power or fortify the creature’s natural armor. One by one, the three-horn consumed them, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing with a deep, satisfied grunt.


    And then… nothing. Again.


    Traebus groaned, rubbing his temples as frustration mounted. "Alright, seriously, what is your deal? Everyone else gets cool effects, but you? You''re just sitting there like an oversized rock. At this point, I''d settle for anything—a sparkle, a twitch, even a dramatic wind gust for flair!"


    The three-horn merely exhaled through its nostrils, completely unfazed by his theatrics.


    Dusk, who had been watching with quiet amusement, flicked his tail and sent a mental impression of acceptance. As if to say, Maybe it’s just different.


    Traebus narrowed his eyes. "Oh, no. No, no, no. That’s not how this works. There’s always a reaction. I refuse to believe that the giant walking tank is somehow immune to magic."


    Still, the results—or rather, lack thereof—spoke for themselves. No matter how many charms the three-horn consumed, there wasn’t even a hint of change. No flickering energy, no sudden strength surge, no elemental flare-up. Just the same unbothered, steady reptile as before.


    Then, a thought struck him. Maybe this isn’t a problem with the charms. Maybe it’s something about the three-horn itself.


    His mind raced as he glanced between the placid beast and the smaller lizards, who had absorbed their magic almost immediately and transformed. What if the little ones weren’t just quick to adapt, but uniquely built for it? What if their bodies naturally processed enchantments in a way that larger creatures didn’t?


    He tapped his chin, muttering to himself. "Huh. Maybe size affects magical absorption? Or maybe different species process mana differently? If that’s the case… then I’ve been going about this all wrong."


    Dusk sent a curious nudge of thought. What now?


    Traebus smirked. "Oh, don’t you worry. If one method doesn’t work, we just find another."


    But for now, magic experimentation would have to wait.


    With a sigh, he turned his attention to a far more immediate concern—resources. It had been a while since he’d taken proper stock of their supplies, and a nagging feeling told him he had been neglectful. As he ran through their inventory in his mind, a pit formed in his stomach.


    "Oh, fantastic," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "We’re almost out of meat, and I have exactly zero food for big guy over here."


    The three-horn, who had been lying contentedly in the sun, flicked an ear at him but otherwise remained blissfully unaware of its pending hunger crisis.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Dusk, standing nearby, sent a questioning nudge of thought. Problem?


    "Yeah, genius, we’re about to have one. If I don’t find food for our very large friend soon, I might end up being dinner by default." He shot a glance at the three-horn, who was watching him with serene patience. "Not saying you’d eat me, but, you know… let’s not test the theory."


    Dusk let out a low chuff of amusement, while the smaller lizards, perhaps sensing a shift in priorities, perked up from their lounging spots.


    Traebus sighed. "Alright, looks like we’ve got a job. Dusk, Sparky, I need you two to go hunt. The rest of you, kindling duty. Big guy… I guess, just… sit there and look majestic or something while I figure out what prehistoric salad bar I need to find for you."


    The three-horn blinked slowly, then promptly went back to napping.


    Traebus groaned. "Okay. That’s one crisis temporarily solved. Now, let’s go make sure I don’t starve, either."


    As he mulled over their food problem, another idea surfaced—one that could potentially solve an even bigger issue in the long run. He glanced at the ground beneath his feet, at the solid, unyielding stone that made up the entirety of their island refuge.


    "Huh," he muttered to himself, rubbing his chin. "I wonder if I can…"


    He turned toward the far side of the island, away from the structures he’d painstakingly built. If this worked, he didn''t want to risk destabilizing the entire foundation of their home. With a deep breath, he channeled his mana into the stone beneath him, focusing on reshaping it at a fundamental level.


    Dusk, watching from the side, sent a mental nudge of skepticism. Now what?


    "Science, my skeptical friend. Earth magic is already within my grasp, but if I can shift the composition of this rock into something more workable—like soil—then I can actually grow food instead of playing prehistoric scavenger all day."


    Dusk chuffed, still doubtful, but stepped back to watch.


    Traebus pressed his hands to the ground and sent his mana into the stone, attempting to alter its structure on a small scale. The energy flowed, but immediately, he felt resistance—like pushing against a stubborn wall that didn’t want to budge. He gritted his teeth, pushing harder, willing the dense rock to loosen, shift, transform.


    For a moment, nothing happened. Then, just as he was about to call it a failure, the stone under his hands shimmered, darkened… and turned to fine, grainy soil.


    His eyes widened. "Holy hell, it actually worked."


    Dusk leaned forward, poking at the patch of dirt with his snout before sending back a wave of cautious approval. The small lizards, drawn by the energy, scampered over and dug tiny furrows into the new soil, trilling in excitement.


    Traebus wiped sweat from his brow, grinning. "Alright, so it’s possible. But that was way harder than expected. Probably gonna need a better method if I want to terraform an actual field instead of exhausting myself to death."


    He sat back, pondering his next steps. This was a breakthrough—one that could fundamentally change how they survived in this world. But he needed to refine the process, make it easier, more sustainable.


    Dusk tilted his head, sending a thought of curiosity. More magic?


    Traebus smirked. "Oh, you know me. There’s always more magic."


    And so began several of the most grueling days of his life.


    Determined to create a viable farmland, Traebus pushed himself to the absolute limit, methodically converting the hard stone of the island into rich, fertile soil. The process was exhausting—each attempt required immense focus, and even with his improved ring foci, shifting the fundamental nature of the rock beneath him took its toll. Every few feet of progress left him lightheaded, drenched in sweat, and more than once, he found himself slumped over, gasping for breath.


    Dusk, acting like an exasperated nursemaid, took it upon himself to enforce breaks. More than once, Traebus felt sharp teeth latch onto the back of his coat, dragging him away from his work as he weakly protested. "No, I just need… one more… foot—" thump—only to end up unceremoniously dumped near the house with Dusk giving him a pointed glare.


    The lizards, meanwhile, watched with a mix of awe and curiosity, occasionally attempting to help by digging at the loose soil or trilling encouragingly. They were far less helpful when they decided to roll around in the freshly made dirt, kicking it everywhere like hyperactive hatchlings.


    By the end of the first day, he had carved out barely a tenth of the space he wanted. By the second, he had managed to expand it slightly, though it left him collapsing in the doorway every evening, groaning like a dying man. Dusk had taken to forcibly dragging him inside, grumbling mental images of fragile two-legs and self-inflicted suffering.


    "Oh, shut up," Traebus had wheezed one evening as he sprawled on the floor, too tired to even eat. "I’m making history, here. Have some respect."


    By the fifth day, after what felt like a lifetime of magical labor and being bodily removed from his own project whenever Dusk deemed him ''too weak to function,'' he finally sat back and surveyed his work. Before him stretched a half-acre field of rich, loose soil—dark, fertile, and full of promise.


    He sagged in relief. "Holy hell… I actually did it."


    Dusk gave a satisfied chuff, though he was clearly unimpressed with the amount of suffering it had taken to reach this point. The smaller lizards, perhaps sensing a celebratory moment, trilled and kicked up tiny clouds of dust as they scurried across the freshly made farmland.


    Traebus, still sprawled in the dirt like a corpse, let out a breathy chuckle. "Now I just have to figure out what the hell to plant. And then we won’t have to live off prehistoric roadkill forever."


    Dusk tilted his head. Progress.


    Traebus groaned. "Yeah, yeah. Next step: finding seeds… after I get some sleep. Wake me if the sky falls or if something tries to eat me. Otherwise, I’m done for the day."


    The next morning, Traebus awoke sore, aching in places he hadn''t even known existed, but with a grim sense of accomplishment. He dragged himself upright and made his way toward the storage building, intent on taking stock of what Dusk and Sparky had brought in over the past few days while he''d been preoccupied with the field.


    To his surprise, there was far more meat than he expected. Several large slabs of fresh kills had been stored properly, hanging in the cool interior. Even more impressively, most of it had already been cooked—charred in places but still edible, likely thanks to the overenthusiastic efforts of the small fire lizard.


    "Well, I''ll be damned," Traebus muttered, eyeing the piles of neatly stacked meat. "They actually did something useful without me breathing down their scaly necks."


    Dusk, who had followed him in, chuffed in amusement. Sparky, lounging smugly near the corner, sent a brief but clear image of fire roaring to life and meat sizzling.


    Traebus smirked. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re a culinary genius now. Just don’t set my house on fire trying to sear a steak, alright?"


    With their food situation temporarily stable, Traebus turned his attention to another pressing concern—storage. The small storage building, while useful, was quickly becoming too cramped for their growing supplies. If they were going to stockpile food and materials long-term, it needed to be bigger. Much bigger.


    He stepped outside, rubbing his hands together. "Alright, time to make this place actually functional."


    Dusk, who had taken to lounging nearby, cracked one eye open, his frills twitching in mild curiosity. The smaller lizards, sensing a project, scampered around Traebus in an eager flurry of trills and excited tail flicks.


    Traebus marked out an expansion plan in the dirt, sketching a structure nearly as large as the house itself. It would need reinforced walls, deeper storage pits, and—most importantly—a proper smoker to keep their meat from spoiling too quickly.


    With a deep breath, he planted his hands on the ground and channeled his magic. The stone groaned in protest before shifting, widening the existing storage area and deepening the foundation. He worked methodically, smoothing the floors, crafting stone shelving into the walls, and adding thick support columns to prevent cave-ins.


    The process was exhausting, but rewarding. Once the walls were up, he turned his attention to the most crucial part—the smoker. He shaped a large, enclosed pit from the bedrock itself, carving out thick stone vents and ensuring the smoke would be funneled properly. It was a labor-intensive process, requiring careful control over his mana, but by the time he stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow, he had a fully functional stone smokehouse ready to go.


    Dusk gave an approving rumble, while the smaller lizards scuttled around, inspecting his work with curious chirps.


    Traebus exhaled, hands on his hips. "Alright, we’re getting somewhere. Now we just need to fill it."


    Without wasting time, he and Dusk set to work hauling the remaining uncooked meat into the newly expanded storage room. The smaller lizards, eager to be part of the effort, trilled and scurried between them, dragging smaller portions and depositing them into the smoking chamber with surprising efficiency. Even the small burning lizard, ever the self-appointed master of fire, took it upon himself to test the new setup, puffing out controlled bursts of flame to ensure the wood inside was properly ignited.


    Traebus watched with an approving nod. "Alright, this is actually coming together."


    By the time they were done, the smoker was filled with hanging cuts of meat, slowly curing in the controlled heat. The scent of rich smoke filled the room.


    Wiping sweat from his brow, he stretched his arms. "Alright, with that handled, tomorrow’s gonna be an adventure. I need to head into the jungle and see if I can find anything remotely edible that isn’t trying to eat me first."


    Dusk flicked his tail in amusement, while the smaller lizards perked up, clearly eager at the idea of another exploration. Traebus sighed, already resigned to having an entourage. "Yeah, yeah. I know you all wanna tag along. Just don’t cause too much trouble, alright?"


    The lizards chirped in unison, which was about as reassuring as a thundercloud on the horizon.