《The Dragon Heir (A Monster Evolution/Progression LitRPG)》


 Chapter 1: The Girl with the Horns

    Keeping my focus was becoming a Herculean task.


    Mister Kendon was in his element, passionately unraveling the complexities of an illusion magic spell. He had a knack for taking the most convoluted concepts and attempting to explain them by comparing them to mundane things, often complicating the issue further by adding irrelevant details. His methods didn''t always hit the mark, but that never deterred him.


    In a desperate bid to entertain myself, I balanced my quill perfectly on my finger. No way was I putting it on my nose again¡ªnot after the last fiasco where a rogue breeze gave me an ink mustache.


    That day was the worst.


    The blackboard might as well have been a blank slate for all I cared. My attention was miles away because, unlike my classmates with their mana veins, I had none. I was magically impotent, a fate sealed from birth. I''d come to terms with it now.


    My gaze wandered to the trio of giggling girls two desks ahead. Elise and her friends, likely snickering about another prank. Elise had a petite frame, big blue eyes, and long, wavy chestnut hair. Her attire was rather modest¡ªno skin showing, but she didn''t need to; most of the lads were already smitten.


    Perhaps she caught me staring, because Elise looked back, smiled, and gave me a little wave. I quickly averted my gaze. She seemed so pure and harmless to everyone. If only they knew. If only they had seen what lay beneath that mask.


    My heart raced as the lunch hour approached. Mister Kendon was wrapping up, and I needed to escape before Elise noticed. The moment he announced the end of class, the noise level surged, and everyone rushed for the exit. I was first out the door, practically sprinting without looking back. There was no way I could eat my lunch in peace if I went to the usual spot.


    I recognised that look on Elise''s face¡ªshe was definitely up to something. I wanted no part of it. My plan was to head straight to the hidden area where I''d been having lunch for the past fortnight.


    The stables stood right beside the school, serving a dual purpose. They were used to teach students how to rear Manaroes, Quilidars, and Rustanges. Manaroes were massive, ox-like magical beasts, capable of hauling impossibly heavy loads. Quilidars, on the other hand, resembled two-headed Deinonychus with feathers. They were lightning-fast, though not built for carrying weight, mostly used by those needing to travel quickly outside the village.


    Rustanges looked like a bulkier breed of Quilidars. I had no idea what a Deinonychus was, but I was sure it came from my strange dreams. Since childhood, I''d dreamt of them, like they belonged to another world. Over time, the dreams faded, slipping through the cracks of my memory.


    But every so often, out of nowhere, unfamiliar words would flash through my mind. Now, I knew exactly what a Deinonychus looked like: a single-headed Quilidar, with far fewer feathers. I had to bite back a laugh at how bare it seemed without its plumage. It must¡¯ve been a magical beast too.


    The stables were my haven. They were a large, sturdy structure made of weathered wood, standing tall and long with a roof thatched with straw. The scent of hay and the soft nickering of beasts created a serene atmosphere. Each stable was spacious enough to comfortably house the creatures, with wide aisles running between the stalls.


    I sat by the wall, pulling out a sandwich and nibbling around the edges, saving the delectable core for last. Suddenly, there was a slight rustle. I frowned¡ªno one was supposed to come here.


    I peeked outside and saw Elise with her friends, giggling as they approached the stables. My heart skipped a beat. Without a second thought, I ducked behind a stack of hay bales, trying to make myself as small and invisible as possible. Some of the hay might get stuck in my hair, but I couldn''t care less.


    I could still hear their giggling through the thin stable walls, being so close to the entrance. But they didn''t come inside.


    "Did you see her face in class? She was completely zoned out," one of her friends said, laughing.


    Elise responded with a giggle, "Yeah, she''s always so lost. Well, I would be too if I were her. Have you seen her horns? They''re fully grown again."


    "Yeah, blasted abomination. Do you think her father did it with a Ram-kin?"


    All three burst into laughter.


    They were talking about me. Feeling self-conscious, I touched my horns. They were cold and almost metallic to the touch. That''s part of why I was their target: I wasn''t like them. Not like any human or beast-kin either. I was half. And I didn''t belong with either of them. My father was a human, working under the current head of town Alcor, under whose jurisdiction our village of Randall fell. Perhaps the only reason I hadn''t been killed off yet, but it didn''t stop people from plotting against me.


    The giggles finally fizzled out, and so did the footsteps. I exhaled a sigh of relief that could''ve blown a feather away. Just to double-check, I cast a contemplative gaze outside¡ªnada, zilch, zip. Looked like they were just out for a stroll. I practically melted into the floor, whipping out my half-eaten sandwich.


    Nibbling at the sides, I let out a blissful sigh after devouring the scrumptious core. Delightful didn''t even begin to cover it.


    This part of the stable housed the babies, so it wasn¡¯t particularly risky to linger here. I wandered over to a baby Quilidar, and wow, it really did resemble one of those Deinonychi from my dream world. I gave one of its heads a scratch, which immediately seemed to offend the other. I quickly pulled my hand back before they both licked their fangs and gave me a thoughtful sniff.


    Hehe, they couldn''t resist the magic of a good head scratch¡ªsomething they wouldn¡¯t forget anytime soon. I showered them with affection, from both their heads and necks all the way down to their scaly little tummies. Both heads hissed in delight the entire time, and by the end, their single tail was wagging like mad. But then, the sharp ring of the bell signaled the end of lunch hour, forcing me to say goodbye and step out of the stable.


    I really should have paused to think. The moment I did, I felt something pressing against my sides¡ªgooey, vile, and now dripping over my head. The smell, the stench, the filth seeped down my face, cascading through my hair. It didn''t stop until my neck, clothes, skirt, and even shoes were stained. Some of it squelched into my shoes.


    Magic beast faeces. And it burned as it dribbled across my skin. I fell down, screaming, writhing, scratching myself, rolling on the ground to get it off me. But the burning sensation didn''t stop. Then I saw them, Elise and her friends, their illusions fading like ripples through calm water. They laughed, giggled, clutching the wall in fits of mirth, as if what they did was oh-so-hilarious.


    Their hands moved, and the water ripples stilled again, making them disappear¡ªMagic of the Winter Salamander path. The faeces still burned on my skin, but what burned deeper was my hatred for them.


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    I dashed out of the school, tears streaming down my face, rushing past the dozing guard. A few students loitering around glanced my way; some with sympathy, others with outright amusement. I despised this place. I ran through the streets, the only sanctuary in this wretched town being my home. Just a bit further now.


    The squelching sound beneath my shoes was unbearable; some of the filth had seeped in, spreading its stench and a burning sensation. This wasn''t the worst prank Elise and her gang had pulled. Time and again, they proved capable of much worse.


    I burst into my house, slamming the door behind me. The floorboards groaned as I ran, leaving a trail of muck in my wake. I carefully avoided the broken step and headed to my room on the first floor. Father wasn''t home; he was off in Alcor for work and wouldn''t be back until nightfall. I burst into my room and touched the Hydro Rune on the wall.


    I didn''t have any mana to activate these magical tools myself, so Father had installed one with a pre-charged magic battery. It cost him twice the usual amount, but he did it for me. Water poured out, washing away the slimy filth as I cried on the bathroom floor.


    I kept telling myself I could endure it. I was sixteen, just one more year, and I could graduate. With some help from Father, I could apprentice under an enchanter and secure a respectable job. But each day was worse than the last. I loathed the school, that sea of strangers.


    I wept as I scrubbed the slimy patches of faeces from my hair. Slowly, I peeled off my soiled clothes and stared into the mirror.


    The girl in the mirror stared back at me. She was sixteen, with an unfamiliar term echoing in my mind¡ªhalf Asian, perhaps a remnant of my forgotten world. She had horns that ran like twisted crowns, curling around her head, solid and almost scaly. If one looked closely, they''d notice the colour mismatches, evidence they''d been cut off more than once. Her waterfall of raven-black hair clung to her once-pristine skin, now marred with patches of burns.


    I couldn''t hold back the tears. Probably the only thing I had going for me was my beauty. My eyes were narrow, my gaze intense. I was taller than the average girl my age, and my muscles were rather toned, making me physically capable even without magic. If only I had been born without these horns! I would have been normal. Someone who wouldn''t be called an abomination. Someone whose father wasn''t belittled behind his back for bedding a beast kin.


    If only. I sobbed. If only that were possible.


    "I can do this." The burns would heal, those faces would be gone, just one more year. A single one.


    "I can do this," I clenched my fists, repeating the mantra through gritted teeth.


    "I can¡­" A quiet sob interrupted my mantra. A wave of negativity washed over me, and I almost intoned ''can''t'' before a blaze in my eyes intensified. "I will do this! I will get through it!"


    I wasn''t sure what drove me. Was it the searing anger, blazing like an inferno inside me, stoking my resolve? Was it the recollection of my father''s steadfast support, the sacrifices he made for my sake? Or perhaps it was sheer obstinacy, the refusal to let them break me, to prove to them and to myself that I was far stronger than they had ever anticipated.


    Perhaps it was a blend of all these things. This anger, it was my strength. The love gave me purpose, and the stubbornness bestowed resilience. Whatever it was, it had been the source of unwavering determination deep within me from the very start.


    I would endure. I would rise above. I would survive.


    It was only for a year, after all.


    ***


    Shopkeeper Mekhael, with his wild and scruffy beard, peered at me suspiciously. I had my head and mouth wrapped in a scarf, bundled up in winter gear from head to toe, leaving no skin exposed. I cleared my throat and mumbled, "I need, er, two pieces of Sunbarm root, three ounces of holy water, and, um, a pinch of salamander''s breath, a vial of moorshadow extract, and a sprig of witch''s thyme."


    Mekhael, the grizzled old merchant, was well-connected with the roving band of traders known as ''Merit.'' His shop was a treasure trove for adventurers, stocked with all sorts of versatile gear. Many would bypass nearby towns just to visit his store. Sure, I could''ve bought a ready-made healing potion, but I was a top-notch alchemy student at my school. I knew how much of a rip-off it was to buy potions off the shelf when you could whip them up yourself with the right ingredients.


    Besides, I had a concoction in mind that was far superior.


    Mekhael gave me a once-over, grunted, and shuffled towards the leftmost aisle, muttering under his breath. He grabbed two gnarly pieces of Sunbarm root and plonked them onto the counter. Next, he fetched an ornate flask and filled a vial with two ounces of a yellow, piss-like liquid. I knew the recipe for holy water, but it was a time-consuming process I couldn''t afford right now.


    Mekhael then turned to a dusty, old wooden box filled with countless tiny vials and extracted one containing a pinch of white salamander''s breath. It looked like plain white powder at first glance, but if one peered closely, they''d see a spectral illusion dancing around with too many eyes, teeth, and leaves fluttering in an eerie wind. I quickly tore my gaze away, not wanting to stare for too long.


    Next up was a vial containing a slimy, purple liquid clinging to its walls¡ªthe moonshadow extract. Its appearance made me uneasy, reminding me of something unpleasant I''d recently had to comb out of my hair. Finally, he reached into a jar and pulled out a sprig of witch''s thyme. The herb had dark, almost black leaves and emitted a sharp, spicy scent.


    "That''ll be one silver," Mekhael grumbled.


    I frowned. "Excuse me, how is it one silver?"


    Mekhael raised an eyebrow. "Ingredients aren''t cheap, kid."


    Oh great, now he was messing with me too. Maybe he didn''t recognise me.


    I leaned in, scowling, my eyes narrowing. "Oh, I know very well how much these ingredients cost. Two pieces of Sunbarm root? That''s worth half a silver at best. And holy water? We both know it''s just purified spring water with a dash of goldleaf. You can''t fool me; I''ve made it before."


    He grunted but didn''t interrupt.


    "The white salamander''s breath isn''t even rare in our valley; there are plenty of salamander molts around the river, but a pinch of it doesn''t cost more than a few coppers. Moonshadow extract is just a paste of Moonshadow grass, tricky to handle but not worth a silver on its own. And witch''s thyme? It''s not even in season. You''re overcharging by at least a quarter silver."


    Mekhael''s scowl deepened. "Alright, smart aleck, how much are you willing to pay?"


    I tapped my fingers on the counter, pretending to calculate. "How about three-quarters of a silver? That''s more than fair, considering the actual value of these ingredients."


    He sighed, clearly not thrilled. "Fine. Three-quarters of a silver it is. But don''t go spreading it around that old Mekhael got swindled by a kid in a scarf."


    I grinned, handing over the coins. "Deal!"


    Oh, more of his secrets were safe with me. If he realized he had just tried to swindle Reiner''s daughter, he would probably hand over the ingredients for free. But I didn''t want to deal with him knowing I had bought these ingredients, which would inevitably mean my father knowing too. Just as I was about to turn away, I hesitated and frowned.


    No, I shook my head. I really shouldn''t take her ramblings for facts.


    But, what if¡­


    I immediately turned back to old Mekhael. "Umm, I would like to buy something else too."

 Chapter 2: The Illicit Poison

    Without waiting for his response, I rattled off my list. "I need a vial of nightshade essence, five dried thorns from the bloodthorn bush, three drops of venom from a shadow asp, a pinch of crushed bone from a wraith''s finger, and a sprig of netherbloom petals."


    Mekhael''s frown deepened, and his eyes narrowed. "Who are you, really?" he asked, his voice low and cautious.


    I hesitated. "Just someone who needs these ingredients," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.


    His expression hardened, and he slammed a hand on the counter. "Half of these ingredients are banned in the empire! What kind of trouble are you trying to get me into, kid?"


    I swallowed hard. Damn it! Had I overstepped my bounds? I hadn''t the faintest idea that they were prohibited. Damn it, Lotte, what had she entangled me in?


    "I didn''t mean to cause any trouble, I just¡ª" I began to explain.


    "Get out!" he bellowed, his face reddening with fury.


    I needed to rectify this. I stood my ground and slowly removed my scarf. The angry expression on old Mekhael''s face dissolved, replaced by surprise, and then his eyes widened in recognition.


    He glanced left and right along the street before opening the counter and pulling me in by force. I yelped as he dragged me inside; his grip was rougher than I had expected.


    "Jade! Why are you hiding behind a scarf? I almost called the guards on you!" Old Mekhael hissed, his voice a blend of anger and a little less anger.


    Guards? This was turning into a much larger debacle than I had anticipated. What was it about those ingredients that had provoked such a reaction?


    "And your face! How¡ª" he began, his tone sharp before softening with concern, "Who did this to you?"


    They knew. They all knew. Yet, there was no justice for me. That was why I wore the scarf. I shifted uncomfortably. "I¡ªI don''t want my father to know."


    I knew what would happen if he found out. At the start of the school year, they had nearly killed me in the name of a prank, throwing me into a pit full of creeping ferrowthorns. I had screamed, writhed, and cried before finally losing consciousness. The person they pulled out was almost a corpse.


    When I woke up, I saw my father''s rage. He had threatened the school, but it was part of a larger academy system. My father had been powerless. All he could do was demand a trial and angrily stomp around the school grounds, making empty threats.


    In the end, there was insufficient evidence to prove Elise and her gang guilty. And that was it. I had spoken out, and the result was more relentless bullying.


    I didn''t break out in tears as I had expected. It was just for a year. It would get better.


    Perhaps Old Mekhael understood, too, as he sighed and plopped down in his seat, rubbing his eyes.


    I stayed silent, feeling small and exposed now that my scarf was off. Those burn marks were so bright, so visible, so¡­ ugly. I wanted them gone before my father returned. Otherwise, he would waste his anger and time on something futile. In a school that taught the magic of illusion, the path of the White Salamander, a magicless cripple like me didn''t belong. There would be no evidence. I would rather spare him the headache and worry if possible.


    "Understood," said Mekhael. I knew he didn''t. No one ever did. Except Lotte.


    "But, I still don''t approve of what you''re attempting here, Jade."


    I frowned. What did he think I was trying to do with those ingredients?


    He responded to my unspoken question. "As much as you despise them, resorting to such a dangerous poison is not the solution."


    Oh. Ohhh! So these were the makings of a deadly poison. Blast it, Lotte! A heads-up would have been jolly decent!


    "I-I didn''t realize they were ingredients for a poison," I stuttered.


    Mekhael''s brow furrowed. "Of course they are, lass. These are the components of Mourning Shade''s Elixir. A single drop induces hallucinations so vivid, it can drive a person or beast stark raving mad in minutes. In larger quantities, it paralyzes the body while leaving the mind fully conscious, a fate worse than death for most. That''s why the empire banned it, just too many noble disputes ended in unspeakable torment."


    Blimey. That was rather ghastly. I couldn''t fathom why Lotte would want me to concoct such a potion, but I really needed to salvage this. Before Old Mekhael pegged me as a vengeful miscreant.


    "I swear, I had no idea those ingredients were poisonous! Come on, Mekhael, do you honestly believe that the person before you is capable of such a dastardly act? You''ve known me since I was a kid!"


    That made him think. I just needed to give him one final push.


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    "I swear, they were purely for academic purposes, nothing more."


    "You don''t seem like you''re lying."


    I huffed. What did he take me for? Of course, I wasn''t lying. No matter how much I despised Elise, I wasn''t a monster. I didn''t want to kill her, even though I occasionally dreamt of paying her back in kind. Those thoughts were swiftly dismissed as intrusive.


    "Still, as I''ve mentioned, these ingredients are prohibited."


    "Of course, you''ve told me countless times," I grinned, "But never once have you said you don''t have them."


    "Confounded youngsters these days, are you sure you don''t have any serpent-kin blood in you?"


    "Nope!" I beamed.


    He continued to mutter under his breath as he shuffled around his shop, gathering various items. When he was done, he handed me a box.


    I stared at it.


    He thrust it into my hands. It was heavier than I''d anticipated.


    "Just one drop in their food."


    I frowned. "Excuse me?"


    "The materials you''ve brought are sufficient for an entire jug. I distinctly said no more than a drop in their food."


    Perhaps my mind was a bit sluggish, but it took me a moment to grasp his implication. Oh. Ohhhhh! He was hinting that if I were to poison my tormentors, this was the quantity I should use.


    I blushed and then whispered, "I''ve already told you these are for academic purposes."


    He raised an eyebrow and gave me a long, scrutinizing look. "Academic purposes, indeed, hohoho. Just be careful, lass. This isn''t something to muck about with."


    "I know, Mekhael. I promise," I said.


    He sighed. "Alright then. Off you go. And remember, no more than a drop."


    He really ought to stop this.


    "How much?" I inquired about the price.


    "None for these. It''s just me clearing out rubbish that didn''t belong in this shop anymore." In other words, I couldn''t afford them, and he was giving them to me for free. I glanced at old Mekhael''s face¡ªnothing, just a jolly old man. Older folks were so much harder to read than people my own age.


    I stepped out of the shop onto the cobblestone street, my healing potion ingredients nestled alongside a rather dangerous bag of banned elixir components.


    Blast it, Lotte! She nearly got me thrown into a dungeon!


    ***


    As the clock''s minute hand moseyed its way to the seven, I promptly extinguished the fire rune and deftly snatched up the vial of bubbling moonshadow extract with a pair of grippers.


    Into the cauldron went two dollops of Sunbarm root paste, followed by a trio of ounces of a liquid as golden as the finest lager but as fragrant as a dodgy loo¡ªholy water, my arse. I gave it a quick stir, switched off the flames, and allowed the root paste to marinate in the, erm, ''holy water''.


    Standing over it, I carefully poured the vial of white Salamander''s breath over the now-cooled concoction. The once-urine-hued potion erupted into a tempestuous boil, resembling an irate volcano, as I stirred it with an absurdly long glass rod, adding even more of the Salamander''s breath. I soon left the boiling tempest to its own devices.


    I wasn''t making a garden-variety healing potion. Nope, it was a salve of the same ilk, beloved by noble ladies for keeping their skin as smooth and unblemished as a baby''s bottom. Even some well-heeled adventurers splurged on it.


    It was priced at twice the amount of a healing potion! A daylight robbery, I say!


    Who in their right mind would fork out 4 silvers for a mediocre healing potion, and another 8 for a salve made from the same ruddy ingredients? Yet, many did¡ªthose poor, alchemically-ignorant souls.


    As the boiling brew settled into a pure, viscous white, I introduced the bubbling Moonshadow extract. The reaction was rather tame, but the violet tint gradually seeped into the white, producing not a lilac, but a gloriously golden salve.


    Ah yes, It was a sight to behold, perhaps explaining its exorbitant price tag.


    I grabbed a nearby glass bottle and filled it to the brim with the healing salve. Behold! Nearly worth 16 silver! And the ingredients barely cost a single silver. Perhaps this alchemical career wasn''t so bad after all. Yet, my heart was set on a different path¡ªI would be an enchantress. Alchemy was all well and good, but it lacked the sparkle of true magic. Enchanting, on the other hand, meant creating magical tools, and even indirectly, I would be working magic.


    It was almost 6 in the evening. Father would be home in about four hours, give or take, depending on work. I should be fully healed by then.


    In the meantime, I could have a hearty chat with Lotte about her rather dubious suggestion. Poison ingredients banned throughout the empire? Oh, she had this talk coming!

 Chapter 3: Lotte

    Ah, that reminded me¡ªI''d left my bag at school. And Elise, with her merry band of blasted witches, would''ve already disposed of it just to spite me. Damn it.


    After a thorough and vigorous toweling to banish any lingering moisture, I caught my reflection in the mirror. Clean, yes, but those unsightly burn marks were a glaring reminder. I quickly squashed the anger bubbling up inside me. No time for that luxury. Those fledgling mages were already well on their way to forming cores. The school valued them far more than they ever would me.


    Just one more year. Hmph! That was all.


    I picked up the glass bottle from the stand, scooping some of the golden salve onto my fingers, and began applying it. Healing salves, especially on burns, should be applied in a slow, clockwise motion. This helps to ensure even absorption and maximizes the salve''s soothing properties.


    Once I was done, I glanced out the window of my room. The trees swayed in the light breeze, and the evening darkness gave the scene an almost eerie feel.


    My box of illicit ingredients was tucked away beneath my bed, snugly nestled alongside my other, um, alchemical experiments¡ªcarefully hidden from my father''s prying eyes. All this subterfuge was buried under a pile of plush toys Father had lavished upon me to curry favor. I wanted to tell him I''d outgrown them, but a part of me still delighted in their squishy softness. Though, I hadn''t dared to pull any of them out today; the thought of smearing them with golden healing salve was simply too dreadful.


    Finally, I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes. It was high time I had a chat with Lotte.


    I was asleep within seconds.


    ****


    My dreams were never what one might call normal. The moment sleep embraced me, I wasn''t just dreaming, but experiencing something entirely different. The wind whipped through my face as I let out a joyous scream. I was falling. Below, the dots of buildings looked like tiny ants. I knew they were skyscrapers, yet from this height, they seemed so insignificant.


    And I was plummeting straight toward them. Oh, how dreadful! Was this how I would meet my end, falling from a great height in a dream?


    I giggled as I performed midair gymnastics. Falling straight down, flapping my hands like wings, twirling around like a cannonball¡ªall while descending rapidly.


    My dreams never hurt me. I had fallen countless times, sometimes with Lotte swooping in to save me. Other times, I''d landed face-first on a silly skyscraper, or plunged into a river, or found myself atop a remarkably advanced bridge. There were forests, factories with fantastically advanced machinery, which I half-suspected were crafted by enchanters and powered by magic.


    But I was never hurt. Not once.


    And there was no one else in this dream world but me and Lotte.


    A vast black silhouette emerged from the clouds beneath me. Ah, speak of the devil! There she was, with her immense and sinuous body, every inch covered in hard, glistening scales. A head like a giant serpent''s, wings with a span that might encompass the entirety of Randall, two pairs of formidable clawed limbs, and a tail longer than her whole body¡ªblack, scaled, and utterly graceful.


    "LOTTEEEE!" I screamed, "SAVE MEEE!"


    She looked up at me, her slitted amber eyes fixing on my falling form. With a single flap of her colossal wings, she severed the clouds in an instant. Just one glance from her and I felt myself slowing down.


    I soon landed on her back, giggling with excitement as she soared through the air. I gripped the massive thorny growths on her back¡ªpainful, were it not for the dream. One couldn''t get hurt in dreams, after all.


    We descended, streaking past the world whose echoes lingered only in my mind, zipping by skyscrapers at breakneck speeds. Lotte could go faster, much faster, but I might not be able to hold on if she did.


    Soon, we found a hill with enough space for Lotte to land comfortably. Dust clouds rose as her massive frame touched down, shaking the entire mountain.


    Even downscaling her was an absolute bother. Not that I needed to. As an invisible force gently tugged at my sides, I found myself being slowly lowered. The moment my feet touched the ground, I rushed forward and enveloped Lotte''s enormous face in a hug¡ªor at least, I managed to embrace a bit of her snout. It was enough; the gesture had been made.


    "I missed you, Lotte!"


    "But Jade, we¡¯ve been acquainted for ages. Could you truly have found yourself longing for my presence after merely a single day apart?" Lotte''s voice, soft and soothing, echoed directly in my mind without her monstrous mouth moving. It was quite at odds with her fearsome appearance, but then, so was her warm and calming personality.


    "Doesn''t matter," I huffed, suddenly remembering my earlier indignation. "I''m not amused by what you recommended!"


    "Oh, what about?"


    "The ingredients you asked me to buy! They nearly landed me in a dungeon!"


    Lotte lifted her head, blinking her massive, slitted eyes.


    "I''m not sure I understand."


    I sighed. "Those ingredients you told me to get are banned in the empire. Old Mekael said they''re used for an elixir called Mourning Shade. At low doses, it causes hallucinations with just a drop. At higher doses, it paralyzes the body while leaving the mind fully conscious."


    There wasn''t a murmur from Lotte for a moment, but when it came, it was a single word.


    "Fascinating."


    What? That was her response to me nearly being tossed into a dungeon?


    It seemed she caught onto my train of thought.


    "My sincerest apologies for the misunderstanding, Jade. I never anticipated that the ingredients themselves would be prohibited. Although, I can understand how they might be employed to craft something akin to the Mourning Shade."


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    Wait, what did she mean, "might be employed to craft something akin to the Mourning Shade.?"


    "So, you didn''t ask me to buy these ingredients for making Mourning Shade?"


    Her enormous serpent-like face glanced at me. Reading Lotte''s expressions was a skill I had yet to master. Her countenance was always stoic, even though the voice resounding in my head conveyed far more about her emotions.


    "No, what I had envisioned was entirely different."


    Now I was curious.


    "Do tell."


    "Well, the day your fate takes a turn will be tomorrow. I can already perceive your golden thread fraying into a black one, and I want you to be ready for what¡¯s to come."


    Ah, there she went again with her fate and threads talk. I, just, didn''t know. I liked Lotte, and the knowledge she had given me was surprising and rare, but sometimes, she could be downright cryptic.


    When she prattled on about how my life could change in the blink of an eye, I simply couldn''t believe it. Where was this mule-like stubbornness coming from? Was it perhaps due to that quintessentially human tendency to deny change, to cling to the familiar despite its flaws? Where had I read it again?


    Lotte couldn''t see the future, as she had reminded me countless times. However, she had a knack for reading the threads of fate, especially those tied to my destiny.


    What did that mean? I didn''t know.


    I hadn''t the faintest idea how it worked, but work it did, for her. I''d often find myself sitting down, watching her mumble under her breath as if piecing together an exceptionally perplexing puzzle. She''d sometimes liken the threads of fate to a spider''s web¡ªconvoluted, intersecting, disorienting, with no specific shape or pattern. And yet, that was their inherent beauty.


    When she spoke of a golden thread ending in black, it signified an opportunity that culminated in death. So, according to her, tomorrow I''d encounter this opportunity and, if I weren''t prepared, it would end rather dreadfully for me.


    Woo hoo!


    Blast it all!


    "Now that all the ingredients have been gathered, I would very much like to examine the threads once more."


    Oh, crikey! Nearly slipped my mind¡ªthe ingredients! I smacked my lips with glee. Goodness, I adored alchemy. Lotte had bestowed upon me more than just a few peculiar recipes. And with those ingredients, which could easily get one tossed into the nearest dungeon, I was positively giddy about what other concoctions might be brewed.


    What could it be this time? A more potent poison? Something whimsically named a Grim''s Neigh? Perhaps an elixir that could summon the dearly departed? Or maybe a potion to make one invisible at the stroke of midnight? An essence to speak with animals? A draught that turns one''s hair the colour of moonlight?


    "So, what are we brewing today?" I asked, licking my lips.


    A gentle breeze fluttered through the trees. For a moment, Lotte remained silent. But when she finally spoke, it wasn''t a voice in my head; her colossal, serpent-like maw opened wide, unleashing a voice that grated like a rusty hinge.


    "YOU''RE HURT..."


    I tried to conceal it, but Lotte always knew. Perhaps it was time to stop hiding, at least from her.


    "Yeah, they doused me in magic beast dung. Had to leg it out of school, covered in the stuff. Got some burns, but they''ll mend. I slapped on that healing salve as soon as I got home."


    Lotte sighed, knowing she''d never quite get through to me on this matter. She''d already armed me with weapons beyond the wildest dreams of the mundane world. If I sought vengeance, I could have exacted it long ago. I wasn''t a coward; I was more than capable of wreaking havoc on those girls'' lives.


    One simple potion could transform them into hideous creatures¡ªfaces riddled with bristles, hunched backs with grotesque lumps, teeth falling out never to regrow, afflictions beyond the reach of even the highest-grade healing elixirs. I could concoct diseases that even the most devout priests couldn''t cure. Boils that fester eternally, voices turned into endless croaks, limbs that twitch uncontrollably, and eyes that weep blood.


    The alchemical knowledge Lotte had bestowed upon me was a terrifying power on its own.


    But I never used it on anyone. No matter how much I despised them or how deeply they hurt me, it was a slippery slope, and I wasn''t keen on sliding down it. Once I saw them in pain, I''d want more, crave their misery. Where would this cycle end? This endless loop of suffering? I feared I''d become addicted to their agony, always seeking a new way to torment them.


    And even if I did it¡ªeven if I wasn¡¯t caught in the act, but merely accused¡ªit would be catastrophic. Not just for me, but for my father as well. The consequences were too dire, the risks too great.


    I simply couldn''t, for a myriad of reasons. Lotte understood these reasons too, though we often clashed. Yet, despite our disagreements, we had a profound understanding of each other.


    Lotte''s soothing voice echoed in my mind. "Remember, Jade, I would never compel you to act against your will. Still, I can already see the strands of your destiny coming apart, and tomorrow will be pivotal."


    Anxiety gnawed at me about this looming tomorrow. What cataclysmic event would turn my life upside down?


    "Any clue what''s about to happen?" I ventured.


    Lotte shook her enormous head. "As I¡¯ve mentioned before, I am no seer. I am unable to foresee the future."


    "Of course," I sighed.


    "Now, about the ingredients I asked you to fetch," she prompted.


    "Finally," I stood up, eager, "Now we''re getting to the good stuff. What are we concocting?"


    She fixed me with a curious look and said, "Whoever mentioned concocting anything?"


    </article>

 Chapter 4: The Summoning

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    No. Nonononono.


    Whatever Lotte was planning, it wasn''t happening! Her words still echoed in my head: "Not Alchemy but a Summoning."


    Yet, despite my resolve, I found myself at the table, pulling out a sheet of white parchment. Dipping the quill in the inkpot, I began writing the summoning process, drawing runes, following Lotte''s every recommendation.


    Of course, I had no intention of actually going through with it. Summoning was banned in the empire, for goodness'' sake! Even my thick skull understood that getting caught would lead to far worse than a stint in the dungeon.


    I say, there wasn''t a jot I had read about summoning arts. But I was quite certain they existed. Only last year, some chap was nabbed in Alcor for a spot of illicit summoning. How, what, and when? I hadn''t the foggiest. My primary concern, though, was the potential for detection. Even Lotte confessed that a sensitive mage might detect a ripple in the very fabric of reality.


    Oh, I could manage it, no doubt. I''d simply have to perform the summoning in some far-flung locale. If someone in Randall got wind of it, I''d be well on my way by then. The Alcor Forest seemed the perfect spot, devoid of meddlesome interlopers.


    I glanced at the clock - just shy of 11. I''d been snoozing for nearly four hours. Father hadn''t returned yet, it seemed. I only had this night to pull off the summoning and arm myself if I wanted to avoid a rather dire fate, according to Lotte''s foreboding readings.


    Blimey, it was giving me a headache.


    I set my quill down and took a deep breath. And another. I knew I''d end up doing it regardless. Lotte''s persistence had set my paranoia into overdrive. I wasn''t a fool; whatever knowledge Lotte imparted was too genuine to dismiss as mere dream prattle. If she said my life was in peril come tomorrow, I was inclined to believe her.


    I stood and began to pace, a plan already taking shape in my mind.


    There was an unexpected creak¡ªit could only be the front door swinging open. Ah, Father had returned. I half expected him to unwind a bit before coming to see me, but lo and behold, the stairs groaned beneath his ascent. Raven-black hair like mine, a touch of stubble, an angular face, and narrow eyes. Tall, built like a warrior, though more fitting of an enforcer.


    "You''re late, Father," I remarked as he entered.


    "Thought you''d be asleep by now."


    Well, he thought wrong. Perhaps he should try telling his employer to take a hike every now and then.


    "What''s on your face, by the way?" he asked, frowning.


    I touched my face, and my fingers came away with golden dust. Oh, I''d forgotten to wash it off.


    "I made some healing salve that the noble ladies in Alcor use. I''m due for washing it off," I said, pushing the glass jar of golden healing salve toward him. "You might want to try some as well, Father. I hear it''s becoming quite the rage among men in Alcor too."


    I could see a part of him wanted to scoff at the idea, but he still picked up the jar and gave it a contemplative sniff.


    "Nah, maybe some other time. Right now, I''ve got a gift for you."


    My ears pricked up at the sound. Gifts?? Could it be yet another of those soft and squishy plushies that I absolutely adore? I''ve told him countless times to stop bringing them, but alas, he can''t seem to resist anything remotely cute. Not that I minded, really.


    Instead of a cuddly toy like I expected, he presented me with four bright blue crystals and a book. My attention, however, was immediately captivated by those oval-shaped gems. Each was about the size of a matchbox, with a swirling white core that was utterly mesmerizing.


    "Mana crystals?" I gasped, eyes widening.


    Without a second thought, I stood up and snatched them from his hands. Even without mana veins, I could feel it instantly¡ªthe slowly swirling energy, the warmth that was neither warm nor cold, and the soft, glistening surface. There were two runes on the top and bottom of each crystal, marking the mana inlet and outlet.


    "Mana batteries?" I said, my smile broadening.


    "Yes," he replied, grinning. "If you want to pursue that dream of yours to become an Enchanter, you''d best start now."


    I was utterly at a loss for words. I was keenly aware of the extravagant cost of these mana batteries. Just this quartet of them would set him back a whole month''s salary. Not an easy buy by any stretch of the imagination.


    And yet, a mere week ago, I had offhandedly remarked that becoming an enchanter would solve all my woes. It was a selfish whimsy, and now that I pondered it, wasn''t the pursuit of becoming an Enchanter itself a tad self-serving? I yearned for magic more than anything in this world. Being born without a scrap of it only made my craving all the more insatiable.


    I wrapped my father in an embrace. "Thank you, Father," seemed the proper thing to say.


    He let out a rather grandiose laugh as he patted my back. Shortly after, he departed, leaving me with a tome titled ''Basic Enchantments'' and the four mana batteries. I took a deep breath and reclined in my chair. Time had slipped by, it was nearly midnight, yet my only concern was my lack of concern for the morrow.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Honestly, being acutely aware of some impending doom ought to have sent a cascade of adrenaline rushing through me. There should have been an urgent need to avert disaster. Instead, I felt an odd sense of numbness. It was as though my mind had erected a barrier against the dread, leaving me in a peculiar state of detachment. It was a kind of psychological conundrum, was this indifference of mine was just a form of self-preservation or perhaps a deeper, more troubling malaise.


    I rubbed my eyes. This simply wouldn''t do.


    I stood up and retrieved the box from under my bed, brimming with those rather ominous ingredients. Shuffling about the room, I gathered a few candles and some of my alchemical apparatus, shoving them into the box as well. My gaze fell upon the mana batteries resting on the table.


    I actually needed them for the summoning ritual. My initial plan had been to destroy the Hydro Rune in the washroom and pilfer the one inside. But, oh well, thank you, Father. I shall put your generous gift to immediate use.


    Grabbing all four batteries, I stuffed them into my pockets. Double-checking my preparations, I realized I was almost done. Just one last thing needed attending to.


    I then waited until my father fell asleep. He was usually out like a light after working this late. Tonight was no different; I found him snoozing in his room. It had a rather Spartan feel to it: minimalistic and functional, with just the essentials. His bed, neatly made with crisp sheets, stood against one wall. A small wooden nightstand held a lamp and a few well-worn books. The only decoration was a single picture on the dresser, a smiling little girl with wild hair, perched atop her father''s shoulders. I didn''t remember from when it was, nor did I have the time to contemplate it; my eyes immediately fell on the thing I was here for.


    A compact and rather formidable contraption with a sturdy wooden stock and a prod made of steel, primed to deliver bolts with deadly precision. A crossbow. Nestled snugly by the dresser, I snatched it up and stealthily retraced my steps, each one calculated to avoid those treacherous creaking floorboards. Out I went, though the door had other plans, groaning like an old hag with every inch it moved. Heart pounding, but blessedly without mishap, I slipped into the night.


    My insides were doing a jitterbug, and not the delightful kind. I was a first-time sneak, and never before had my escapades flirted with the illegal. Yet, some unseen wellspring of boldness kept me going, and I wasn''t about to question it. With a box of contraband clutched under my arm and the crossbow resting atop, I walked briskly before breaking into a sprint.


    Midnight it was, and one would think the streets would be quite deserted at such an ungodly hour. But then again, I rarely ventured out at this time myself, so I wasn''t about to trust my own judgement on the matter. Yet, having grown up in these parts, I knew every nook and cranny.


    The most straightforward path to the nearby forest cut straight through the market square, then past the grand old clock tower. This happened to be the route to the school as well, where one would stick to the right of the tower to avoid that blasted baker''s hound. But today, that path was not in my plans.


    Instead, I opted for the narrow alley by Mrs. Marranos'' place¡ªa nifty little shortcut, if I do say so myself. From there, it was a swift jaunt through the back gardens of the row houses until I reached the old mill. Just beyond, the forest loomed, dark, inviting, and well away from prying eyes.


    Ah, the Alcor Forest! The very reason a magicless cripple like myself chose this spot for my quaint little ritual was its renowned safety. Quite the talk of the town. In recent years, bands of merchants have taken a fancy to some of the routes within, presenting ample opportunities for Alcor itself. Consequently, it''s becoming rather customary for adventurers to receive commissions to thin out the monstrous populace within. Not that I believed the beastly nuisances were being hunted to extinction¡ªoh no, they''re as persistent as mosquitoes! But their reduced numbers made me feel considerably safer. Naturally, I still brought along my father''s trusty crossbow, just in case. For, despite all that reassurance, if a monster decided to ambush me, well, that would be entirely my own foolishness.


    Once I felt confident that I had put enough distance between myself and the town, I took a gander around. It was just the forest, all around me. Despite the moon being the sole source of illumination, I had no trouble seeing in the dark. Soon enough, I stumbled upon a rather charming clearing. The ground was a soft bed of moss, and the trees circled it like silent, ancient sentinels, their branches forming a protective canopy overhead.


    Placing the box down, I lit one of the candles and pulled out the parchment detailing the ritual. Nervousness was an understatement for what I was feeling. I was about to do something really illegal and really, really blasphemous.


    Opening the box, I got to work.


    </article>

 Chapter 5: The Spectre

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    Nevertheless, they all existed in a certain harmony, governed by specific rules. The church upheld the sanctity of these rules.


    And here I was, on the verge of committing a most egregious breach.


    It''s not that I didn''t hold faith in Thalador, or any other deities for that matter. Quite the contrary, really. My belief only served to heighten the terror of my impending transgression. Although I was fairly certain I wouldn''t be smote on the spot, a lingering dread still clung to me.


    I had ceased attending church, not out of disagreement, oh no, but rather the opposite. The Church had once been my sanctuary, a place where I felt grounded and safe as a child. But as I grew older, I began to see the true colours of those around me. I recall the day a woman snatched her daughter away from me as we were merely playing, all the while whispering and glaring. The guard who perpetually barred my entry, the whispers, the stares¡ªall crystal-clear indicators of their disdain. For the first time, I saw them for what they truly were.


    There was no other reason¡ªthey despised me simply for existing. For worshipping a god whose entire doctrine centred around protection. Those hypocrites! I often found myself wishing Thalador would smite their hateful arses one fine day.


    I finally placed the mirror down over the runic circle I had so meticulously etched. Its surface reflected my visage in a blend of moonlight and candlelight. I looked around, noting that everything was nearly ready.


    I lit the three candles, each one precisely positioned equidistant from the mirror at the center. The mirror itself sat within the summoning circle. This circle, traditionally drawn with ordinary chalk, had been altered under Lotte''s guidance. She''d instructed me to mix in a vial of nightshade essence, transforming its usual white hue to a striking red.


    Each candle was set atop a different rune: one for purity, another for protection, and the third for connection. By tweaking these runes just a bit, the candles would also serve as coordinates. What I was about to perform was a targeted summoning¡ªat least, that''s what Lotte had assured me. The Spirit Plane harboured some truly nasty entities, and it was alarmingly easy to make a blunder when dabbling in summoning. By determining exactly where to summon from and what kind of spirit I desired, the process should be safer¡ªprovided one knew the perfect runes, the precise ritual, and had all the necessary materials.


    I glanced at the box. My resolve wavered momentarily, but I slapped myself to shake off any second thoughts. This was no time for doubt.


    One by one, I set the candles aflame. Finally, connecting a few lines of the ritual caused the three mana batteries I had placed beside each candle to hum in response. The crimson runic lines flared brightly for a moment before settling into a dim glow.


    My heart was doing a jittery waltz, but it seemed like the first step of the ritual was done. Each candle was now burning in different colours. Red. Golden. Green.


    I needed to wait until their colours turned black, blue, and red instead. Those were the coordinates Lotte had asked me to seek. Where they connected in the spirit plane and what kind of entity I was inviting, I seriously had no clue. All I had going was blind faith in Lotte and dread for tomorrow, which, if I were honest, was more than enough for a push.


    I scampered around while the candle fire danced and slowly changed hues. Collecting some dry sticks, enough for burning, I placed them into the cauldron I brought with me. Knowing the candle coordination step would take some time, I saved a step to save time.


    I lit the sticks inside the cauldron, adding the sprig of netherbloom petals and three drops of shadow asp venom inside. I covered my face. Being an alchemy dabbler, I knew how foolish it was to add venom to a burning flame, but Lotte had reassured me it should not release any noxious smoke. Probably due to some sort of specific interactions between the netherbloom and venom, which neutralized the toxins in the combustion process.


    I trotted ''round the cauldron, letting the smoke swirl and weave its way through the ritual area, before setting it down just behind the mirror. Now, it was time to wait. Time itself seemed to crawl for me. Not only was there the chance that this whole affair could go spectacularly pear-shaped at any moment, but also the knowledge that I had nary a scrap of control over any of it. I couldn''t feel mana, much less manipulate it, so I was essentially a puppet. Lotte had designed the setup so the runes did all the heavy lifting¡ªfrom energy gathering to ritual focus and even the summoning. My sole duty was to tweak or nudge the runes at specific intervals.


    I was positively jittery, not being in control. Moments like these made me long for a chat with Lotte outside of my dreams, where I could endlessly bend her ear with my complaints. But really, what a fanciful notion¡ªdreams manifesting in reality. Silly me.


    Time ticked by, the flickering candles playing havoc with my nerves. There was no rhyme or reason to their shifts. Every two minutes, they changed colours in unison. From red to orange, then yellow, and so on, until finally black. Black? That was unexpected.


    I glanced around. One candle burned black, another blue, and the last one red. Alarmed, I shuffled forward, scraping off a rune to lock in coordinates. Grabbing the crimson chalk powder, I swiftly etched another rune.


    After double-checking that all the runes were in their proper places, I positioned myself in the centre of the invocation circle. Taking a deep breath, I opened my mouth and intoned...


    "Omni serpeni, voco te! Custos in tenebris, da mihi fortitudinem tuam.


    Praesidium et potentia, aeterna gratia, consilio meo!


    Per lumen et umbram, nos coalescimus.


    Protemis me, forti servo."


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    I hadn''t the foggiest what language it was, but dear Lotte had me perfecting the pronunciation like a diligent parrot. I must say, I think I hit the right notes, though words like ''fortitudinem'' tripped me up a tad. Still, I eventually got there.


    For a fleeting moment, an eerie stillness hung in the air, but my gaze stayed locked on the mirror at the centre. What stared back was my own visage. Skin kissed by moonlight, etched with lines of worry.


    Then, everything went topsy-turvy as my reflection twisted its head and locked eyes with me, wearing a chilling grin. My heart did a somersault. Success!


    Before I could utter the next bit, my reflection vanished, leaving behind a swirling abyss in the mirror.


    A rustle in the nearby bushes made my heart leap. Had that thing escaped? By all accounts of the ritual, it shouldn''t have been able to. Dread trickled down my spine as I watched the shuffling foliage. A head emerged, gaunt and serpentine, skeletal with a pair of bulging eyes fixed unblinkingly on me.


    My hand moved of its own accord, reaching for the crossbow lying beside me. Suddenly, I frowned, peering down at it. When on earth did I place it here? It ought to be by the tree... there...


    Indeed, another crossbow lay there. I glanced back at the one I was about to grasp, and my expression twisted into horror. The crossbow had vanished, replaced by a containment rune.


    That blasted thing was trying to break free.


    Relief washed over me at first, quickly giving way to anger. The wretched entity was toying with my senses, the cheek of it!


    "I know exactly what you''re up to, you pile of dung!" I spat out, seething.


    Oh, woe is me! I might wallow in the gloom of being unable to feel the tingle of magic, but here, one thing was crystal clear: the ritual was in absolute command. If that cheeky entity was nudging me to erase the containment rune, it only meant everything was ticking along like clockwork.


    As Lotte would say, entities were like bloodhounds, able to sniff out our mortal emotions. Whatever it sensed from me, it gave it the cheek to try and bamboozle me. But I had a plan: reverse the trickery and show it who''s boss.


    With a dramatic flourish, I straightened up, radiating imperious confidence. "You really think you can outfox me, you pitiful, wretched excuse for a spirit?" I sneered, my voice laden with scornful mockery. "The very ease with which I summoned you should have been your first hint."


    The wind hushed to a gentle whisper as two slitted eyes emerged in the mirror, locking onto me. The only way to outdo such spirits was to flaunt one''s superiority. And there I was, showcasing power I didn''t actually possess.


    "Did you truly believe a mere illusion would bamboozle me? How adorably quaint. You forget, you''re but a puppet in my grand theatre." I laughed, even as a bead of sweat trickled down my spine.


    The glare from the mirror grew sharper. "I beckoned you with a flick of my wrist, and I can dismiss you with even less effort." True enough, it was simply a matter of cutting off the connection rune, and the breach in ''Parda'' would be sealed tight.


    I sashayed towards the mirror, and for the first time, the fierce glare reacted. It fully revealed itself now. Its visage was like a pristine white sheet draped over the skull of a serpent. Hollow sockets housed slitted eyes, black and gold, counterfeit, mere imitations.


    Its mouth creaked open, the sides of the skull groaning as though trying to summon a voice it didn''t have. Against all odds, it succeeded, the sound that emerged was grating, like a cat scratching a chalkboard while yodelling.


    It cackled its jaw three times in mirror, but what I heard on this side was quite different.


    "Quid offeres, invocator?"


    No clue what it meant, but did this mean my attempt to intimidate it had worked? Perhaps not. Anyway, I remembered what Lotte had instructed me to say next.


    "Omni serpeni, ausculta me!


    Unum mensem protectionis mihi praebe, et in commutatione, meum sole tibi offero.


    Esto mihi fortis defensor!"


    For reasons beyond me, Lotte had made me repeat ''sole'' at least five times before nodding in approval.


    The skeletal serpent simply stared at me for a full minute, not uttering a word. Seriously, an entire minute of silent staring. Did I mispronounce something? Whatever, I was through with waiting for a response. Lotte had prepared a backup plan. If the entity didn''t agree to protect me by this point, I just needed to sweeten the deal.


    I clamped my hand over my mouth, sinking my unusually sharp canines into my thumb. Once I pierced the skin, I held my hand over a rune situated just before the connection rune.


    "Omni serpeni, nunc adveni et gustum cape eius quod offero.


    Veni, et tibi praebeo saporem mei sole."


    A smattering of blood droplets plummeted, and the rune sprung to life, twirling in a vibrant crimson hue before fading away. The response was immediate¡ªthe skeletal serpent in the mirror let out a bone-chilling shriek, its lower jaw grinding against the upper, producing a dreadful symphony. The fabric draping its bony form shredded as if ripples of energy were coursing through it.


    "EGO ACCIPIO!"


    It intoned, and right then, a searing pain erupted on my wrist. I winced, clutching it as strange symbols began to materialise around my wrist, weaving themselves into a faintly shimmering pattern.


    Lotte really ought to have given me a heads-up about this bit. My confident fa?ade almost slipped, but I held steady as the fiery tattoo etched itself onto my wrist. It resembled a serpent''s eyes, but instead of lines, it was composed of eerie symbols.


    The surface of the mirror rippled as the skeletal serpent slithered into reality. It still felt unreal, as if its entire form was a hurried brushstroke. The temperature around me plummeted to a biting cold in an instant. The skeleton floated through the air, graceful, lithe, and eerie. It paused mere inches from my wrist, gazing at the tattoo, then looked at me with its fake eyes, before touching the symbol on my wrist and vanishing with a pop.


    </article>

 Chapter 6: The NetherBeast

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    The sound was enough to rouse Giles from his slumber. He groggily rose from his bed and reached for his sword. A solitary magic circle flickered to life before his eyes, enhancing his vision in the dark¡ªunless, of course, he banged his head like the last time. It had been a bother to learn, especially for someone like him, but he''d managed.


    He made his way to the mage''s room, the source of the commotion. Opening the door, he dispelled the vision enhancement rune as the room was already bathed in light.


    "Cedric¡­ are you quite alright?"


    "Oh, by the long and arduous grace of Thalador¡­" Cedric muttered as magic circles blazed on the wall before him, shifting and whirring with each passing second.


    "Cedric, I swear, if you blaspheme one more time¡ª" Giles began, but was cut off by Cedric''s frantic shouting.


    "OH CRIKEY! OH CRIKEY! IT''S CRACKED! THAT LUNATIC''S GONE AND DONE IT!"


    By now, Giles could hear the others stirring in their rooms too. Cedric''s outburst had woken everyone up. What in the hell was happening? It was past midnight!


    "What in the world is going on, Cedric?"


    "Oh, don''t tell me you lot didn''t feel it!"


    "What''s going on?" Beatrice''s sleepy voice echoed as she peeked into the room, followed closely by Lavinia, who took one glance and immediately turned her gaze away.


    "What in blazes is happening? And why am I being subjected to the sight of Cedric''s bare posterior?"


    As if Giles had any clue. He watched Cedric muttering away while the magic circles spun before him. Cedric was...eccentric, but he was still a top-notch mage. A graduate of the Grey Tower, no less¡ªhow Giles had managed to snag him as a teammate was still a mystery to him.


    Soon, the magic circles faded, and Cedric plopped down from his bed. "Holy Thalador and his mighty co¡ª"


    "Cedric!"


    "¡ªuteau, damn it, Giles. I don''t know if it went back, but the breach is healing."


    Giles hastily handed him a pair of shorts lying by the bed. "Put these on first."


    Cedric obliged, sitting down, as both Beatrice and Lavinia finally entered. Giles couldn''t help but notice the look of barely contained disgust in Lavinia''s eyes.


    "Now then, do tell us, what''s got your knickers in such a twist?"


    "Someone''s tried to summon a bloody NetherBeast!"


    A hush fell over the group, a stunned silence before Giles broke it. "Here? In Randall?"


    Indeed, they were in this quaint little town near Alcor, on a commission to escort some merchants. The thought that someone might be dabbling in illegal summoning was a bit much for Giles to swallow.


    Cedric nodded all the same. "Somewhere nearby, but I can''t pinpoint it without heading out first."


    "Isn''t that, like¡­ illegal?" Beatrice chimed in.


    Even Giles, someone not exactly well-versed in the magic arts, knew that anything breaching the ''Parda'' had been banned almost three years ago in the empire.


    "For those of you daft enough not to know summoning arts, allow me to elucidate," Cedric said, adjusting his shorts. "Illegal doesn''t even begin to cover it. Even before all manner of summoning was outlawed, Nether summoning was still considered forbidden. Why? Because all NetherBeasts are barmy! Anyone who managed to connect with that realm went stark raving mad within days. It was the stuff of nightmares, even for summoners. There was an unspoken rule: don''t muck about with the Nether. Not for studies, not for research, just a big fat no-no."


    "So, whoever did it just now¡­"


    "Probably dead. Probably worse if the NetherBeast actually got out."


    "Hold on a tick! What do you mean ''got out''?" Lavinia interjected, eyes wide.


    Cedric chuckled, "Exactly what I said. Someone not only managed to pry open the gates to the Nether, but had the audacity to let it actually cross the threshold. So, the NetherBeast is either back home after gobbling up that poor soul, or¡­"


    "Orrr?" Beatrice swallowed hard.


    "Or it''s on this side, likely on a mindless munching spree."


    Giles felt his sweat turn to icicles. "Bloody hell, Cedric! Why didn''t you mention that earlier?"


    "Because I wasn''t certain, mate. I don''t know diddly-squat about Nether! I''m just making an educated guess here."


    Giles nearly facepalmed. He had to remind himself that it was Cedric making the guess. Better to trust him than regret it later.


    "Just tell me one thing, Cedric," Giles started.


    "Hmmm?" Cedric raised his eyebrows.


    "Is it worth reporting to the guild?"


    "Well, I didn''t just make an educated guess about someone opening the Nether gates¡ªthat actually happened and it was illegal. And there''s the slight possibility of a NetherBeast lurking about. So yeah, we ought to inform the guild and alert Alcor''s authorities."


    Giles nodded before turning to Beatrice. "Beatrice, head to the Merchants. They always have those communication crystals."


    "But how will that help us contact the guild? Aren''t those crystals fixed to a single location?"


    "Don''t fret about that," Cedric grinned, "I can tweak the base magic code so we can reach the guild."


    Giles nodded, attempting to exude a smidgen of confidence he didn''t possess. This was supposed to be a simple escort mission, just guiding these folks around and shielding them from bandits and monsters. Plus, these were wealthy merchants, so the journey had been rather plush. How in the bloody hell did a NetherBeast get thrown into the mix?


    Giles felt a tear roll down his cheek as he turned away.


    So much for a vacation!


    ***


    The chill still lingered in the air, but it wasn''t quite as biting as before. I finished cleaning up as quickly as possible. Despite erasing the ritual lines, the entire circle left the ground scorched, making it impossible to hide.


    With the mirror and cauldron hastily shoved back into the box, I grabbed my crossbow and dashed back towards Randall.


    The ritual had gone suspiciously well. Not that I was complaining, mind you, but something was setting off my paranoia. I half-expected an ambush with a "Surprise! We detected the ritual; you''re under arrest."


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    But no, that didn''t happen. Instead, I found myself... knackered. I grabbed a nearby tree for support, wheezing like an old hag after a marathon. I frowned, trying to catch my breath. It wasn''t like I''d been running a marathon. Normally, I could sprint to Alcor and back without breaking a sweat! So why was I all tuckered out from a wee jaunt through the woods?


    I glanced at the ''tattoo'' of runic symbols on my wrist. Could it be a side effect of the ritual? Had I somehow drained my energy?


    No time for pondering. I needed to get home, and fast. If anyone in Randall had picked up on my ritual, they''d be hot on my trail. Getting caught would be a right disaster.


    Taking a few tentative steps, I broke into a sprint. The old mill loomed in the distance, visible through the sparse trees in this part of the forest. Yet, several times I had to pause, wheezing like a blasted old hag.


    Before exhaustion could claim me, I managed to put some decent distance between myself and the ritual site. I reckoned I could afford a little rest. Setting my box down, I leaned against a tree. The moon still hung overhead, casting a serene light over the scattered trees. My breaths came in fits and starts. I closed my eyes, trying to steady them.


    Somehow, I must''ve drifted off, because the next thing I knew, I was greeted by Lotte. Her immense serpentine hood shifted as I blinked awake, leaning over me with a massive claw.


    "Well, you''re back early," she intoned, her voice resonating directly in my mind as usual.


    I frowned. "I certainly hadn''t planned on it."


    A soft snicker echoed in my thoughts.


    "No, Lotte! I''m serious. I don''t know what''s been happening to me. I''ve never felt this exhausted in any sense! And now I''m quite literally dozing off somewhere in the forest!"


    Her velvet voice responded with a singsong quality, "Sounds like it took the bait."


    "Bait? What bait?"


    Her serpentine visage just stared at me, her scaled face devoid of the humour in her voice. And by staring, I mean¡­ she was looking behind me. I didn''t fully turn around; there was no need. I could see a massive shadow looming just behind me.


    If I could sweat inside a dream, I would have.


    A fundamental feeling of wrongness washed over me. It had always been just me and Lotte in this dream, as far back as I could remember. The mere thought of something intruding here set off all sorts of alarm-like emotions, the primary one being sheer anger. I didn''t know why. Just a deep, burning contempt towards whatever was encroaching on this sacred space.


    But once more, Lotte''s soothing voice resonated within my noggin. "Close your eyes, Jade," she purred. I obliged without a second thought. The next words, however, weren''t her usual comforting tone within my mind, but her rather grating voice emanating from her colossal serpentine head.


    "Oh my, oh my, it''s been an age since I''ve had the pleasure of showing a Nether rat its proper place."


    What ensued can only be described as... well, silence. The peculiar sort of silence that rings in one''s ears, making you wonder if you''ve gone completely deaf. Like being ensconced in a cabin, utterly cut off from all sound. Lotte had instructed me to close my eyes, so I was blind to everything around me.


    So, I waited. What else was there to do?


    I think I grasped what transpired, albeit not entirely. It must''ve been that entity I summoned. When Lotte mentioned it ''took the bait,'' it was clear she had anticipated this very moment the second she handed me the ritual.


    But why? And ''how?'' That question lingered too, though I suspected I wasn''t quite capable of comprehending it at present.


    Before long, Lotte''s voice returned. The eerie silence didn''t even last a full minute before it shattered.


    "You may open them now."


    I did, and immediately regretted it.


    "Lotte?"


    "Yes?"


    "When, pray tell, did we find ourselves inside a volcano?"


    "My sincerest apologies for that. I know you had quite the affection for this particular hill, but alas, I couldn''t prevent this... collateral damage. Not to worry, though! I know of a few other spots that might tickle your fancy."


    That wasn''t the issue. I gawked in utter bewilderment. Surrounding me was scorched earth¡ªquite literally red-hot and burning. The ground sizzled and cracked, molten lava oozing in places, casting a hellish glow across the landscape. Jagged rocks, turned black from the intense heat, jutted out like the teeth of some monstrous beast. The air shimmered with heat waves, distorting the view and making the scene look even more surreal.


    Oddly enough, the heat wasn''t as oppressive as one might expect, a small mercy given that this was, after all, a dream.


    An unseen force lifted me, gently placing me onto Lotte''s back. With a powerful sweep of her enormous wings, she parted the smoke and haze, and we took off. I clung to the spines on her back, questions bubbling up inside me, but I decided it was wiser to wait until we landed before asking them.


    Once we were airborne, I finally grasped the full extent of the devastation below. As far as my eyes could see, the land was a patchwork of red and black¡ªscorched earth and molten rock. The sheer scale of the destruction was staggering. The fact that Lotte had wrought this havoc in mere minutes was a sobering thought.


    If she existed in reality, I could scarcely imagine the destruction she could unleash. But I knew she once belonged to this reality. Lotte rarely spoke of it, and I never pried. I was content with her companionship, trusting that if it were important, she would tell me.


    From her tone and the knowledge she had imparted to me, it wasn''t difficult to piece together certain assumptions.


    The flight was swift and almost silent, save for the occasional powerful beat of Lotte''s wings. The landscape below gradually transitioned from the charred, smoking ruins to a more familiar, verdant terrain. Eventually, we reached another hill, far away from the devastation. Lotte descended gracefully, landing with a thud that sent a small tremor through the ground.


    </article>

 Chapter 7: The Loophole

    I dismounted, feeling the solid earth beneath my feet. The stark contrast between this serene hill and the hellscape we''d left behind was almost jarring.


    "Lotte," I began, my voice trembling slightly. "What on earth just happened back there?"


    She coiled her massive body around me, her serpentine head resting on the ground as she settled. Her voice echoed in my mind with a hint of amusement. "Oh, nothing much, just showed a little intruder its place."


    "I know what you did. But," I said, struggling for words, "What did you mean by ''took the bait'' earlier?"


    "Exactly what I said. NetherBeasts are terribly greedy creatures. There was a chance it might try to exploit the loophole in the contract to get here. And it did, the cheeky blighter."


    Wait. Wait. This was all happening too fast.


    "What do you mean there was a ''loophole'' in the contract?"


    Not that I understood anything about the contract I signed. I had just recited that strange tongue Lotte had taught me. It was meant to be a protection for a month, just that. The rest was Lotte''s doing, whatever she did, whatever loophole she left.


    "Don''t worry about it, there was nothing in that loophole that would have harmed you," Lotte reassured me.


    "Okay, Lotte, just be honest with me¡ªwhy was it needed? Did you actually want that thing here?"


    "Half yes and half no," she admitted. "It was for two reasons. First, I wanted to see if something external could interfere with this dream of ours. Second, I wanted to make sure I showed this rat from the Nether its place so that it doesn''t get any funny ideas."


    I knew she liked to experiment. "BUT ONCE AGAIN, A HEADS UP WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE!"


    I turned and stomped twice angrily in place. It''s just, I knew it wouldn''t have helped at all and would have made me even more nervous attempting it, which in turn would have made me more likely to fumble. If anyone knew that much about me, it was Lotte. But still, I was angry! And I needed to show it somehow. Immature? Probably.


    But wait.


    "What happened to this¡­ Nether Rat?" It was strange how I didn''t even know the name of the entity I had summoned.


    "It''s right behind you."


    Eeep! I turned around, expecting a massive silhouette like I had seen earlier. What greeted me was... nothing.


    "Umm? Where?" I inquired, somewhat perplexed.


    "A smidge lower," Lotte replied.


    Following her direction, I peered beneath the bush, only to spot a skeletal serpent about the size of a worm. I bent down and picked it up. It trembled but didn''t resist.


    Casting a quizzical glance at Lotte, I asked, "This little fellow is going to protect me for a month?"


    "It appears like that because of a tiny... adjustment I made," Lotte said nonchalantly. "Don''t fret, he''ll revert to his usual size once he''s back in reality."


    Well, that was somewhat reassuring. I gazed once more at the trembling little skeleton, curled up in my hands and doing its utmost to avoid Lotte''s gaze. What on earth had she done to it? I was completely oblivious, yet I could swear the entire transformation lasted less than a minute.


    "What was this creature called again? A Nether...Rat?" I vaguely recalled Lotte mentioning its name but couldn''t quite remember.


    "It''s a NetherBeast, Jade. But sure, you can name it Rat. It needed a name anyway."


    I wasn''t entirely convinced that calling my protector a derogatory name was the best idea. A different name, something more fitting, was in order.


    "I shall call it Barn," I declared, looking down at the little skeletal snake. "What do you think? We''re going to be together for a month, so let''s show each other some respect, shall we?"


    Lotte''s singsong laugh echoed in my mind as the skeletal snake glanced up at me, pausing before giving a nod. Barn it was.


    I looked up at Lotte, knowing that whatever she did was with my best interests at heart. My anger was misplaced here, and I still had questions.


    "How powerful is it?" I asked, wanting to gauge how much I could rely on its protection come morning.


    Lotte blinked her massive slitted eyes. "Umm, according to the coloured core system you lot are using, consider him at a high gold stage."


    My mind went blank for a moment, and my hands started trembling. "A h-high gold?"


    I glanced down at the trembling little skeleton. What in the world did she mean this thing was high gold?


    "Are you sure, Lotte?"


    "NetherBeasts don''t use the mana core system like humans do," she replied. "But yes, if I were to compare, the one you''re holding could easily go toe to toe with a Golden core mage."


    I took a deep breath. The colour of a mage''s or warrior''s core determined their power. It all started at black, the very base stage, where many mages at my school currently lingered. Except me, of course. I had no mana, and thus had formed no core.


    A step above that was the grey core, signifying better control over mana and slight enhancements in strength and abilities. Most students would reach this stage by the time they graduated.


    Next was the yellow core, marking a significant leap in power with a more solidified core, enabling advanced techniques and spells. Many started adventuring or became mercenaries at this stage, while others joined renowned towers to further their journey.


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    Real power began at the red core. It often took nearly a decade to achieve. People in positions of absolute authority and respect, capable of razing entire cities, were usually at this level.


    Then, there was gold. Considered the pinnacle of power, I could literally count the individuals who had achieved a gold core on my fingers! The head of Grey Mage Tower, the captain of the Golden Cavalry under the emperor, the Royal Mage, and the two current heads of the only adventuring guild in the empire.


    Never in my wildest dreams did I envision that this quivering skeletal serpent in my grasp could challenge the apex of power within the empire. Part of me mused: I summoned it. Me, a veritable nobody utterly incapable of embarking on the path of power.


    Yet another part of me pondered just how formidable Lotte must be to leave something at Gold Rank quaking in terror.


    I stifled these trains of thought. There were more pressing matters at hand. Now that I knew I was quite literally sauntering about with a Gold Rank calamity, my fear only intensified. And let''s not forget, I was nearly nodding off in the middle of a forest, where people might arrive at any moment if the ritual had been detected.


    Lotte, understanding the gravity of the situation, left me with a final piece of advice.


    "I''ve read the threads again. They''ve diverged, no longer ending in black. But one of them leads to a place far away. You may not be able to return, so bid your farewells."


    I hadn''t the foggiest what she meant. Did Lotte even know? Her readings were always on the verge of cryptic. I was fine with that, but did I truly need to say farewell to my father? She mentioned that the golden thread would lead me somewhere far away, a place of no return.


    I wasn''t quite sure how to feel about that.


    "And don''t fret about¡­ Barn anymore." I knew she still wanted to call it a rat, but since I was treating it with respect, she followed suit. I was pleased with that. But wait, what was there to worry about him?


    I lobbed the question in her direction.


    "You mentioned you were feeling awfully knackered, extraordinarily so."


    "Yeah, I figured Barn did that deliberately, like you said earlier, ''took the bait.''"


    "Indeed, but the truth was a smidge different. What Barn did was follow its instincts. Why do you suppose it''s able to form a contract with you, given you''ve got no magic yourself?"


    I furrowed my brow. Now that Lotte had divulged that Barn''s power level was on par with an average gold-rank mage, the fact that I was bound to him by a protection contract was, frankly, a bit daunting.


    "What''s that got to do with me feeling so knackered?" Lotte wasn''t one to go off on tangents, so I got straight to the point.


    "In layman''s terms, whenever summoning occurs, entities from the Nether use mana from their summoners not just to appear in our reality but to remain here as well. They don''t use mana themselves; they run on chaos. I managed the first step by tweaking the ritual''s mechanism, but the second issue remained unsolved."


    "Which was for Barn to stay in reality, it would need to feed on my mana, of which I have none."


    "So, it instinctively fed on your life force."


    I almost sussed it out myself, a truly frightful notion, that. The life force required to sustain a gold rank beastie¡ªI''d have been a goner if not for dear Lotte.


    "So, it won''t be siphoning my life force again?" I inquired, a touch of trepidation in my voice.


    "No, no," she assured, "I''ve had it adjust your contract a tad, removed the little loophole I slipped in. It should now sustain itself on the vast reserves of chaos it''s amassed. It''ll be a bit weaker, mind, but it should suffice."


    A slightly feeble gold rank was still a gold rank. They said a gold rank mage, even out of mana, was just as terrifying as one fully charged. Their very existence was perilous.


    "I really ought to skedaddle before dawn breaks," I murmured, a hint of urgency creeping in.


    Lotte''s massive serpentine visage remained impassive, but her voice in my mind was tinged with concern.


    "Whatever happens, be brave, Jade."


    Ha! With the protection of a gold rank, I was quite possibly the safest soul in the entire empire.


    "I will," I replied with a nod.


    I bade Lotte farewell and resolved to awaken. It was a rather simple affair, really. Just letting myself dissolve into the dreamscape. One moment I was there, disassociating, and the next, my eyes fluttered open in the forest.


    The moment I woke up, I felt positively rejuvenated. None of the fatigue from my earlier lingered. A sharp pain shot through my wrist, making me wince. I glanced down at the runic tattoo there¡ªit was shifting. Some symbols vanished, replaced by new ones burning into place.


    I took a deep breath, stood up, and sprinted towards the old mill. Luckily, I was close enough, and the area was blissfully devoid of other humans.


    I soon reached home, carefully nudging the front door open. Its familiar creak made me mutter a curse under my breath, but the silence from within assured me that Father was still asleep. I tiptoed to his room, gingerly placing the crossbow back in its spot.


    Dodging that one treacherous broken stair, I made my way back to my room. Only then did I feel a semblance of safety.


    It was nearly 4 in the morning. Sleep, however, eluded me as I lay there, awaiting the dreaded dawn.

 Chapter 8: Kill or Clean?

    Morning had the cheek to arrive all too promptly. I shot a glare at the intrusive sunshine streaming through the window. Really, it had no business showing up so soon. My eyes were sleep-starved, though I felt oddly refreshed¡ªa bit of a paradox, that. Perhaps it was more of a mental quirk than a physical one. Maybe the sheer dread and paranoia about the day ahead had settled in my bones.


    I wrapped the sheets around my head like a fortress of fabric, determined to stay put. I didn''t want to face the world today, fervently hoping whatever Lotte foresaw in my Fate wouldn''t come to pass. Lotte always had her theories about Fate. Even if I knew something dreadful was on the horizon and tried to hide in the smallest of nooks, Fate would still find me. We all carry our destinies, like heavy, invisible luggage, and no amount of running could keep it at bay forever.


    It was something Lotte herself would say. It wasn''t hard picturing her, lounging with that grand serpentine hood of hers draped over a rocky outcropping, doling out pearls of wisdom. "Fate is a peculiar beast," she''d muse, her slitted eyes unfocused, probably lost in those Threads of hers. "It''s like trying to dodge raindrops in a storm¡ªno matter how swift or clever you are, you''ll end up soaked."


    "It''s an omnipresent shadow," she''d continue, "never tires, never relents, always catches up. So, might as well face it with a bit of stiff upper lip, because hiding only delays the inevitable."


    Geez, thanks for the confidence, Lotte.


    With a resigned sigh, I cast a weary glance at the wooden clock. Nearly seven in the morning, it proclaimed. There was no eluding the inevitable. I heaved myself out of bed and shuffled towards the shower.


    Downstairs, Father had already prepared a humble feast of bread and soup.


    "You look tired," he observed, his words slightly muffled by a mouthful of bread.


    I didn''t feel particularly tired, but perhaps my visage told another tale.


    "I''m fine. Just... I might have stayed up a bit later, tinkering with those mana batteries you got me. Simply couldn''t resist."


    He chuckled, "I knew you''d be all over them. But really, you shouldn''t trade your sleep for them. It could become a rather dreadful habit."


    "Yeah, yeah," I muttered, taking a sip of the soup. Hmm, a tad bland. I added a pinch of salt. "But you know how it is. You get in the zone, and before you know it, hours have flown by."


    Not that I did that. Although, truth be told, I did use those mana batteries, but in quite a different capacity. The ritual had drained them dry, so I''d need to ask Father to recharge them with his mana. Perhaps later, as they weren''t supposed to be emptied this swiftly. No need to raise any suspicions unnecessarily.


    He nodded sagely. "Indeed. Just remember, even the most dedicated enchanters need their rest. Those mana batteries will still be there in the morning."


    I rolled my eyes. "Alright, alright. I''ll try to be more sensible. But no promises if a burst of inspiration strikes."


    He chuckled, "Fair enough. Just don''t come crying to me when you''re yawning through your studies."


    "Deal," I said, taking another bite of bread. "And thanks for the soup. Just what I needed."


    "Anytime," he replied. "Now, finish up and get going. The day won''t wait for either of us."


    Tell me something I didn''t know.


    Before long, Father had fetched his Quilidar from the stables. The creature, with its two heads, emitted a pair of enthusiastic squeals as Father perched upon its back. He gave a hearty wave as he set off towards Alcor.


    I waved back, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Yet, as soon as he disappeared down the cobblestone street, my grin did a vanishing act too. Lotte had urged me to say proper goodbyes, but I just couldn''t muster the courage. Perhaps I wasn''t as gallant as she fancied me to be.


    I, too, had to go to school, however much I hated it. I slung a cloth bag over my shoulder and stashed a few books inside, knowing my previous one would be nigh impossible to find. I paused to gaze at their covers.


    Magic of the [Winter Salamander] Path. Ah, those were the days when I was still ensnared by the fantasy that I, too, might one day tread that path. That I might advance my core, just like everyone else. To grow in power, in strength, but most crucially... to wield magic. That elusive, bloody magic. It was everywhere around me, yet never within me. The craving to manipulate it, to bend it to my will, to perform spell after spell ¨C it gnawed at my very soul. This palpable frustration.


    The world teemed with magic, dancing in the air, swirling in the streams, whispering in the trees. Yet, for me, it was just out of reach, like a tantalizing dream slipping away with the dawn. To see others conjure flames, weave illusions, and summon icicles with effortless grace only deepened my yearning. I was like a bird trapped in a gilded cage, wings fluttering against the bars, desperate to soar in the vast, enchanted skies.


    My grip tightened on the covers.


    When did this bitterness become my constant companion? The hunger for magic consumed me, haunting my every thought. It was a relentless ache, an unfulfilled desire. I craved ¨C no, needed ¨C that rush of power, the thrill of casting a spell, the satisfaction of bending reality to my whims. To live without magic felt like a half-life, a hollow existence. And so, I clung to the faint hope that one day, I might unlock that hidden potential within me and finally, truly belong.


    It was this hope, no matter how slim, that kept me attending a school where I was deemed a cripple, all in the belief that one day I, too, would bloom and feel the magic.


    Needless to say, I squandered those five years. Well, not entirely squandered. I became a top-notch Alchemy student. Even Miss Hester offered me an apprenticeship with her husband, an esteemed Alchemist in Alcor''s adventuring guild.


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    Ah, but I knew precisely what stoked the fires of my alchemical passion, what kept this enchanting dream of mine flickering ever so brightly. It was that same magic, the elusive wisp I endlessly pursued. Anything that made me feel a part of that magic world, that world of wonders.


    I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Yes, I''d grown accustomed to it. But every now and then, certain triggers would press those bothersome buttons. Had to pull myself together before I spiraled into yet another pity party.


    With a sigh, I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped out. Locking the front door behind me, I made my way towards the watchtower. The deeper I ventured into town, the more I sensed something was amiss.


    The market street was teeming with more people than usual. Randall was lively enough on any given day, but today, it was swarming with unfamiliar faces. Knights clad in identical black plate armour, helms obscuring their features, others in black and blue robes, and some sporting leather armour with swords at their hips.


    My eyes narrowed as I took it all in. The ones in black plate armour were official knights from Alcor, marked by the Thunder Eagle insignia on their hips. The rest, I presumed, were adventurers, milling about like bees in a hive.


    I touched my wrist where the ''contract'' with Barn was etched. I''d donned a full-sleeved dress specifically to conceal it. What if someone had detected the ritual? Could all these people be here because of that?


    Pah! I scoffed. An entire army for such a thing? Preposterous.


    Soon enough, I found myself at the school''s gates, and my stomach did an unpleasant flip-flop. Blast it all. Just yesterday, I had bolted from these very gates, reeking of magical beast droppings. And now, here I was again, like a moth to a particularly unpleasant flame. Honestly, the last thing I wanted was to step foot back in that place.


    I couldn''t fathom what I was doing here in the first place. There was, quite literally, a life-altering event looming on the horizon. Perhaps clinging to this smidge of normality was my mind''s way of maintaining a semblance of calm amidst the chaos? A curious quirk of human mind. When faced with monumental change, one would often seek solace in the familiar, no matter how unappealing it might be.


    The moment I stepped into the classroom, my eyes landed on Elise and her merry band of witches¡ªno, seriously, they were quite literally witches¡ªgiggling away. As soon as I entered, their cackling ceased, only to resume with hushed whispers and then, like a spell breaking, burst into uproarious laughter. No need to consult a crystal ball to know I was the source of their amusement.


    I tightened my grip on my bag and made a beeline for my desk, determined to ignore them. But then I stopped short. My desk, conveniently located by the window, was my sanctuary. Most lessons were about as useful to me as a chocolate teapot, so I''d gaze out, enjoying the breeze on my face, eyes following birds and the occasional magical beast soaring through the sky. It was my little slice of peace.


    Alas, even that seemed too much for Elise. My seat was smeared with something slimy and vile¡ªno doubt the same stuff they used to pelt me with before. A not-so-subtle reminder they wouldn''t rest until my life was a complete and utter nightmare.


    Without so much as a glance in their direction, I approached my desk. This wasn''t the first time they''d defiled it, and I wouldn''t give them the pleasure of seeing me move. I''d gotten into the habit of carrying a spare rag in my bag, ready for such delightful surprises.


    As I bent down to fetch the rag, their laughter echoed louder. But then came a peculiar sound¡ªa rattle of bones. I looked down to see a skeletal serpent, draped in a white cloth with painted slitted eyes, staring up at me. Oh, right. I wasn''t alone today. Barn, my bony companion, was with me.


    Barn clicked his jaw again, and though I had no idea how, I understood exactly what he wanted to say.


    "Kill?"


    "Absolutely not! No killing, and no attacking anyone unless they pose a direct threat to me," I hastily whispered.


    I could practically see Barn''s mood nosedive. His eyes, or whatever he had for eyes, locked onto the rag in my hands and that slimy filth on my seat. He clacked his jaw again, a sound like bones knitting together.


    "Clean?"


    I arched an eyebrow. "If you fancy it?"


    His spirits soared. Perhaps he just wanted to lend a hand. Barn floated over my seat, his jaw clacking rhythmically. To my astonishment, every single impurity quite literally evaporated. The faeces stains transformed into stardust and vanished into thin air. The fine dust in the crevices followed suit, along with every trace of grime, muck, and even the faintest smudges of ink.


    A purification spell? I knew priests often used such magic, but Barn? He looked like something from beyond the grave. Yet, I knew he wasn''t an undead.


    Barn clacked his jaws once more, waiting for my appraisal with his painted eyes comically wide. How did he manage that? I gave him a little thumbs up, and he clacked his jaw three times before touching my wrist tattoo and vanishing into thin air.


    No one seemed to notice a thing. Well, the whole escapade didn''t even last ten seconds. My desk concealed my seat well, and Barn was rather diminutive.


    Elise''s lot did grace me with another round of mocking giggles as I settled down. But I didn''t spare them a glance, my gaze shifting immediately outside. The morning air, the gently swaying trees, the soft chirping of nature''s minstrels, the birds. I closed my eyes, savoring this moment of tranquillity, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.


    Was I even remotely prepared for whatever today had in store?

 Chapter 9: Kidnapped

    The day was dreadfully humdrum, as it happened. It was Selene Day, which meant no Alchemy classes for poor old me. Instead, it was the usual drudgery of spell craft theories. When lunchtime finally rolled around, I realised I''d not brought a morsel with me. I figured, if anything significant were to happen, it could jolly well occur at any time. So, why bother? A lapse in judgment, perhaps.


    My stomach let out a rather disagreeable grumble. Clearly, the morning''s soup and bread were insufficient. Maybe a pit stop at the market stalls on the way home would be in order. I had plenty of allowance left, even after splurging on those alchemy ingredients yesterday.


    Nevertheless, I made my way to the Great Hall, where students congregated to enjoy their lunch break, merrily chattering away with their friends. The hall was abuzz with activity, the scent of various meals mingling in the air, laughter echoing off the stone walls. It wasn''t like I was there for the camaraderie. Friends were a luxury I didn''t possess. My sole intent was to eavesdrop, to catch wind of any rumours that might be swirling about.


    I didn''t have to twiddle my thumbs for long. The whole town was abuzz, practically bursting at the seams with chatter. Everyone seemed to have their knickers in a twist, and I could feel a trickle of sweat starting to form on my brow.


    "Of course, it''s got to be a demon!"


    "My father reckons someone opened the gates of hell."


    "I doubt it was hell¡ªmy brother''s a guard in Alcor! It was an AstralBeast!"


    "No, no, no! I''m telling you, it must be something from beyond the Parda. Hell isn''t even in the realms Parda governs!"


    They were all on their own peculiar tangents, each theory more outrageous than the last, but one thing was clear: they knew someone had tampered with Parda and performed a summoning. That was enough for me to realise my ritual hadn''t been as secret as I''d hoped.


    Judging by the way everyone was carrying on, it was a top-tier threat. Hence the influx of Inquisitors and Adventurers from Alcor. So, all those people I''d seen milling about the market square were actually here because of my little midnight mischief.


    Was this it then? Was I about to be nabbed and carted off to some dreary dungeon in the capital? Blimey, that was a terrifying prospect. But it didn''t seem like anyone was on to me just yet.


    I''d better tell Barn to stay hidden. If anyone high up caught even a whiff of his power, we''d be in deep trouble. Lotte had warned me, mana and chaos have distinct properties and signatures, after all.


    I needed to play it cool. So, I made my way back to the classroom. Just an ordinary, magicless girl with absolutely nothing to do with the bizarre summoning in the forest last night!


    The school day meandered along like a sluggish river, my nerves jangling and perspiration flowing like the Thames. Thankfully, nothing particularly noteworthy occurred. No one swooped in to accuse me of heresy or cart me off. Not a soul even acknowledged my existence, which was a small blessing.


    Elise and her merry band of miscreants seemed to have taken the day off from tormenting me. Maybe they felt a pang of mercy after yesterday''s antics. But then, the memory of those slimy stains on my seat and my mysteriously vanished bag soured my stomach. It wouldn''t do to get complacent. Vigilance was my only friend until I was safely beyond the school gates.


    As soon as the final bell tolled, I was off like a shot, darting through the halls and out into freedom. My stomach reminded me with a growl that sustenance was needed. The market lay conveniently along my route home, so I made a beeline for it.


    The bustling stalls came into view, alive with their usual energy. I had my heart set on some garlic butter roasted mushrooms today. The very thought of their rich, savoury taste made my mouth water, and I hastily wiped the drool away with my sleeve. I spotted the stall and made my way towards it.


    Just then, a grip like a vice clamped down on me. I hadn''t even clocked the narrow alley next to the stall until it was too late. A hand, as unyielding as iron, gagged my mouth, while another latched onto my arm, yanking me into the shadows. I thrashed, tried to scream, anything¡ªbut his strength was something else entirely. Must be a higher-core warrior.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Something tickled my wrist. Three clacks of a skeletal jaw echoed. Barn. The question was simple.


    "Kill?"


    I gave a slow shake of my head, hoping Barn could see it. Whatever this man was up to, he hadn''t actually hurt me. Yet. But I had no clue where he was taking me.


    Barn must''ve got the message because my captor didn''t drop dead on the spot. Still, I had to act, get some intel. Without a second thought, I bit down on the hand silencing me with all the force my jaw could muster. A startled yelp escaped him as he flung me away like an unwanted doll.


    The force of it was like being hit by a runaway Manaroe. But just as I was about to crash into the wall, an invisible cushion of force stopped me, turning what could''ve shattered ribs into a harmless thud.


    "Blasted harlot!" he bellowed with a deep voice.


    Finally, I got a good look at him. The man was clad in black plate armour, his face obscured by a plain black mask etched with peculiar carvings. Tall and imposing, he seemed even more formidable encased in that armour. His movements were deliberate; clearly, this wasn''t his first foray into roughhousing. The armour, while a tad scuffed, gleamed with the polish of meticulous care.


    He now inspected the wound on his hand where my teeth had found purchase. I watched, bemused, as the bleeding ceased and the flesh knit itself back together. Though his mask betrayed no emotion, I could feel his ire simmering beneath it.


    "Well, that was quite the spectacle," I quipped, trying to sound more confident than I felt. Barn was with me, so I ought to be brimming with confidence. Still, I was sweating buckets while putting on a fa?ade of invulnerability as I stood up and flashed him a cheeky grin. "Fancy telling me where you''re taking me?"


    The man tilted his head slightly, silent for a moment, perhaps surprised that I was standing so sprightly after the wallop he''d given me. Though I still couldn''t see his expression, the carvings on his mask lent him an almost eerie appearance. "You''ve got some nerve, little abomination." He took a step closer, his armoured boots clanking on the floor. "Tell me, do you know why I''ve brought you here?"


    I sure didn''t. But I knew he wasn''t here to punish me for my ritual fiasco. Their arrest would have been rather official. No, this was something else. And the way he used the word ''abomination.'' Why did I have a bad feeling about it all.


    "Well, it wasn''t for the delightful conversation, I presume," I drawled, trying to keep my tone light. "So, why don''t you enlighten me?"


    He didn''t seem to be keen on that. "Information told us of a meek little half beastie. Seemed like that wasn''t the case. Different, quite feisty at that."


    "Feisty, am I?" I chuckled, "One does try. But really, what''s the game here? Dragging me to this dreary place only to stand around in that ghastly armour, tossing out vague threats?"


    He didn''t even acknowledge my words, and his tone was dreadfully condescending, the sort of way one addresses an errant child. "Hmm, snapping a few of your bones wouldn''t be too much trouble if it shuts that foul mouth of yours."


    That was quite the miscalculation on his part. Screaming louder tends to follow pain! Well, blow me down, this was not going to plan. However, I did glean some insights from his ramblings. Firstly, this wasn''t a random ransom job; he had prior information on me. Secondly, he used ''they,'' so he wasn''t acting alone. Were his cohorts nearby?


    "I would think twice before doing anything hasty." Perhaps not the best choice of words, as he vanished in a blink and I felt a hand clamp around my throat. The grip should have been bone-crushing, yet a thin veil of energy cushioned his hold.


    He paused, trying to tighten his grip, but it didn''t work. It was increasingly vexing not to see his expression. How else could I gauge his thoughts?


    I stared him down and flashed a grin, hoping for a reaction.


    What I didn''t anticipate was the sudden appearance of a dagger.


    My grin vanished. "What the devil are you playing at?"


    "You''re a magicless freak. I don''t know what trickery you''re using. An artefact, perhaps? That would explain why you were unscathed when I tossed you earlier." He started slashing through my clothes. "Where are you hiding it?"


    "Stop it! You bloody bastard! What do you think you''re accomplishing? I don''t have any artefact!"


    But he didn''t cease his prying. His knife continued its little dance, incessant, as he scoured for that blasted artifact that didn''t exist. But then, his blade grazed my skin, drawing a trifling trickle of blood from my torso.


    In that very instant, the air turned frightfully cold. I knew Barn had a true form, vastly different from the scrawny serpent he usually appeared as, one I had glimpsed in a dream when Lotte had confronted him. I could sense the ominous shadow looming behind me once more. The same colossal, foreboding figure. Something in my very marrow whispered that I absolutely did not want to turn and face him in this guise.


    The blighter halted his frenzied carving and looked past me. He froze on the spot. No, not quite; his hands were trembling ever so slightly, the knife poised in mid-air, as if he couldn''t muster the will to move it an inch further.


    There came three slow, sinister clacks from behind me. And then, just like that, the fellow was no more. Vanished where he stood, it all transpired in a mere blink of an eye. One moment he was there, the next, only his hand remained, hanging grotesquely near my throat, while the rest of him vanished entirely. Not even afforded the courtesy of a scream. The stone floor beneath me bore witness to a different story that might haunt my coming thoughts, stained red like some peculiar herbal paste, with a few crimson droplets even besmirching my clothes.


    For a moment, I was completely gobsmacked. The shadow behind me disappeared just as Barn scampered over my wrist. I glanced at him; his painted eyes were wide, clearly begging for some form of praise. Three spine-chilling clacks echoed as he snapped his jaw.


    ''Did I do well?''


    I didn''t answer. My gaze was fixed on the crimson smear on the pavement, struggling to suppress the reality of what had just occurred. I had always told him not to kill anyone unless they actually harmed me, but the instant the knife drew blood, the condition was met.


    Still in a daze, I gave Barn a thumbs up. I wasn''t sure why; it just felt right to acknowledge a Gold Rank for looking out for me.


    But I didn''t have time to ponder it further, as I heard footsteps approaching from the distance.


    "Oh, bollocks. Barn! Quick, do something about..." I gestured to the street, "whatever''s left of him."


    Three more clacks of his jaw, and the man''s remains turned into fine stardust and vanished. Even the few droplets that had stained my clothes disappeared, along with all the dirt and grime, leaving both the street and my attire suspiciously spotless.


    A man emerged from the back of the abandoned alleyway, sporting a similar black mask and armour as the previous one.


    What the hell was happening?

 Chapter 10: The Cruel Smile

    "Barn, don''t go killing anyone or even showing yourself. Just keep my vitals intact with that invisible force of yours," I instructed, pausing momentarily. He had saved me from being tossed about and choked, but could he fend off something more sinister? "Could you manage that?" I inquired.


    Three affirming clacks of his jaw answered me.


    Splendid. The men were advancing now, likely intent on whisking me away as one of their comrades had done earlier. Barn, in essence, could wipe them out before they even laid a finger on me. He was a veritable gold rank, and these guys were, at best, yellow or maybe red core, but I doubted it. I couldn''t gauge their exact strength, but I vividly remembered that iron grip from earlier, the speed at which he moved, and the force with which he hurled me. It was best to err on the side of caution.


    But even that was child''s play compared to what a gold rank could accomplish. Nevertheless, I needed to tread carefully; what had occurred earlier was a mistake. People were milling about the illegal ritual I had orchestrated. What if they knew it was a NetherBeast? Magic made nearly everything possible, so it wouldn''t be far-fetched to think they might look for traces of chaos.


    Every time one casts a spell using mana, it leaves a bit of residue behind. Now, if the same applied to chaos, then when Barn unleashed his power here, it would certainly leave traces of chaos lingering about.


    There was a popular band of enforcers from the capital, rumoured to be able to sniff out the exact location of a caster just by visiting the site where the spell was cast. They were affectionately dubbed ''The Bloodhounds.''


    One might call me paranoid, but if someone could trace Barn from these traces of chaos, we''d be in a frightful spot of trouble. Not just me, but Father too. The entire town would turn against us, and let''s not forget the whole army lurking about.


    I, simply, didn''t want that to happen. While I doubted they could harm me with Barn around, my life would be turned topsy-turvy with possibilities I didn''t even want to fathom.


    So, when a sword was now pointed directly at my throat, the holder didn''t drop dead on the spot. I counted six men, all in the same attire, same imposing figures, and the very same face masks etched with eerie lines. It made me think they belonged to a certain organisation.


    With my hands held aloft in a gesture of utter surrender, I could feel the cold scrutiny of the man holding me at swordpoint. Everything around us was unnervingly spotless, practically sparkling, but his interest wasn''t piqued by the cleanliness. Oh no, it was my tattered attire that caught his eye, with enough of my top shredded to expose my midriff. And, naturally, the cut on my torso.


    "P-please," I stammered, ensuring my voice quivered convincingly as I stared at the blade mere inches from my throat. Although it posed no real danger¡ªthanks to the invisible shield of energy protecting me¡ªplaying the part was crucial. I needed their guards down and suspicions firmly tucked away. "I don''t know anything. Just... don''t hurt me."


    The swordsman barely glanced at me, his eyes fixated on the gash across my midsection. He then turned his head slightly, barking at his comrades with a voice as sharp as his blade.


    "Where is Wren?" he demanded, irritated. "He was supposed to fetch this freak. Now he''s vanished."


    A man standing to his right shrugged with the sort of nonchalance only someone truly clueless could muster. "Probably got lost again, knowing him. Either that or he''s off on one of his little detours¡ªsomething shiny might''ve caught his eye."


    The leader growled in frustration, the tip of his sword pressing ever so slightly closer to my skin. "We don''t have time for his games. The ritual is already underway, and those blasted dogs from Alcor and the bloody Adventuring Guild are nosing around where they shouldn''t be." He growled again, glancing over his shoulder. "You two, spread out and find him. And make sure he hasn''t left any mess behind."


    The two men nodded and vanished¡ªnot in the illusory sense, but in that they moved so swiftly it seemed as though they disappeared. The wind from their sudden departure slapped my face. The leader, at least I assumed he was the leader given how he bossed the others around, had mentioned a ritual. A ritual and information about a half-beast, magicless freak had these formidable men chasing after her. My brain was making connections I desperately wished it wouldn''t, as a sense of dread twisted my stomach.


    His gaze found its way back to me, though I couldn''t see his eyes behind that infernal mask, and a shiver scuttled down my spine like a chilly spider. Quite understandable, really. Despite Barn''s best efforts at protection, I was a nobody¡ªbereft of magic, powerless as a damp sponge. And the chap standing before me? A bona fide predator, the sort who''d dispatch me without batting an eyelid.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Then, without much ceremony, they gagged me, tied me up like a Christmas turkey, and one of the fellows slung me over his shoulder as if I were a particularly irritable sack of spuds. Wait, what was Christmas again? Dang these memories from dreams.


    His armour though, with its odd pointy bits, would have been dreadfully uncomfortable, but I felt a strange force envelop my torso. Ah, bless Barn! A wry smile tugged at my insides.


    But I kept up the charade. Muffled cries, pitiful struggles, crocodile tears streaming down my face¡ªhad to keep the act convincing. Not that my porter gave two figs. He had the grip of an iron vice, and escape was a pipe dream.


    We traipsed through alleyways I never knew existed, a veritable warren of the Randall''s underbelly. At the alley''s end, one of the blokes fiddled with a lamp, and lo and behold, a wall gave way to reveal stone stairs spiralling downward. They hustled us inside with unseemly haste.


    The place was something else entirely. The walls, dank and dripping, closed in around us as we descended. It reeked of wet earth. Flickering torchlight cast shadows that seemed almost eerie, playing tricks on my eyes. Perhaps it was the nervousness and sense of dread, making the mundane seem horrifying.


    There''s something truly unsettling about uncovering things hidden right under your nose, things you had no inkling of. Peeling back the veneer of reality to find another world lurking beneath, waiting to be discovered. I never knew Randall. Just a normal village under the jurisdiction of Alcor? Bah! A rather unnerving revelation, that. One wonders what else might be lying just out of sight, waiting to pounce when least expected.


    Ah, but there I was, left with naught but my own musings for company. My tear-brimmed eyes darted about like jittery sparrows, searching for... well, something. A sign, perhaps? Some clue in their behavior? Any inkling as to our destination? Likely none of the above.


    No time for further rumination, though, as I felt the stairs incline beneath me. Were we finally leaving that stifling tunnel? Oh, thank heavens, the air down there was getting quite stuffy.


    We emerged into a building that seemed to smell of soil and musty old pages. Hold on a tick¡ªthis was the Randall''s Library basement! I craned my neck, a tad awkward in my current position, but managed nonetheless. Yes, indeed, this was the basement where old librarian Jord squirreled away all the books in need of some tender loving care. I''d been down here before, back in the days when I''d help him with his task of mending torn pages and re-gluing bindings. I further craned my neck as I passed an aisle, ah, yes, there it was, still at the same spot, the old red covered volume on the history of enchantments.


    The men hoisted me up as if I were nothing more than a sack of potatoes, my faux protests stifled by the gag. Bound and at their mercy¡ªor rather, their lack thereof¡ªI was a prisoner to their whims. Up the all-too-familiar stairs we went.


    As we reached the ground floor, there was old librarian Jord, stationed behind his usual counter, a soft smile on his lips as he leafed through the pages of a book. Jord was a tall, wiry old man with an untamed mane of white hair. Spectacles perched on the tip of his nose, reflecting the contents of book he was holding. The library was deserted, save for the closed sign dangling by the door.


    Blast it all, was Jord in peril now? He seemed utterly oblivious, his attention absorbed by the pages, while these ruffians looked the sort who''d silence any witness without batting an eyelid.


    I squirmed against my restraints, desperate to catch his eye, to warn him of the impending danger. At last, Jord glanced my way. He was close to the door, a quick dash and he''d be out. But he didn''t budge. Huh? My mind reeled, my struggles momentarily forgotten as he turned my way, simply smiled, a calm, almost knowing look directed at the strangers emerging from the basement of his library.


    "Our cooperation ends here," the leader declared, tapping a ring on his finger. From thin air, a colossal tome materialized, landing with a thud on the counter and sending a cloud of dust into the air. Jord''s eyes widened, hands trembling as he reached out to touch it gently.


    "Your generosity is much appreciated," Jord said, his voice was rather unwavering even as his trembling hands betrayed his nerves. With painstaking care, he slid the tome beneath the counter.


    Generosity? Cooperation? The words felt foreign. I even momentarily forgot everything else, my gaze locked on him, my eyes brimming with unshed tears, carrying a singular, burning question. Why?


    Jord was an old friend of my father''s, a figure from my childhood. He was like the grandfather I never had, the one who taught me to craft letters and spin tales. the afternoons spent in this very library, learning to mend tattered books and tenderly placing them under the golden sunlight streaming through the windows. There were other children too, but he always said I was his favourite, that I reminded him of his daughter in the capital.


    But the man before me, wearing Jord''s face with an unsettling smile, felt like an imposter. This wasn''t Jord. I couldn''t believe it. It had to be someone else, someone who''d quaffed a potion of transformation to don his visage. My mind screamed the truth at me, but my heart refused to listen.


    Why?


    The question was constant in my head, even as the man tightened his grip on my frozen frame, dragging me along with his leader. They flung open the library door and unceremoniously tossed me into a waiting carriage outside. A force cushioned my fall, but my thoughts were elsewhere, lost in a daze as I stared back at the library''s open gate.


    One of the armoured men sat beside me. The last thing I saw before the carriage door slammed shut was Jord, standing at the library door, smiling that same old smile. It had never seemed so cruel.

 Chapter 11: Dragged Along

    The carriage jolted along the cobblestone street, its wheels clattering in a most ungentlemanly fashion. There I was, sprawled on the floor, gagged and tied like a poorly wrapped present. Beside me, on a really plush seat that would make even some wealthy green with envy, sat an armoured fellow.


    Not exactly the chatty sort, he was. Silent as the grave, no matter how much I squirmed or pleaded with wide, imploring eyes.


    Oh, I tried, trust me. I wiggled, I whimpered, hoping he''d at least throw a sneer my way, if only to glean a snippet of information. Useless information? Perhaps. But any morsel was better than nothing.


    Or maybe I was simply trying to distract myself from the dread of what had transpired earlier. These men''s now-deceased comrade had let slip that they knew more about me than I was comfortable with. And the revelation that old man Jord was in cahoots with these ruffians... well, that was enough to make one''s head spin. Sold me out, he had. Why? How? The mind boggled.


    I was starting to piece it all together. Even as a functioning member of society, some saw no value in me. A magicless cripple, a half-beast, a freak of nature. Those with scant magic were already treated poorly, but someone like me, with not even a drop to my name? Heavens, it set off all manner of alarm bells.


    Ah, but in certain circles, my stock skyrocketed. A rare, magicless specimen, half-beast and all. Truly one-of-a-kind. Perfect for a ritual or some other dastardly deed. No wonder they went to such great lengths, dispatching these formidable warriors to nab me. Even paid a pretty penny for the privilege, considering how old man Jord clutched that tome ¨C must''ve been some sort of rare [Magic Path] grimoire. Jord, already at a yellow rank core, had trembling hands. Safe to say, my worth was sky-high.


    A ghastly feeling churned in my stomach. No, it wasn''t just the incessant jolting of the carriage ¨C though, admittedly, a bit more cushioning wouldn''t go amiss. But no, the source of my nausea was the impending doom.


    I was about to be sacrificed.


    Simple as that.


    I couldn''t quite put my finger on how I knew, but the conclusion was inescapable. Perhaps I was piecing things together too hastily, but I knew how rituals worked. Each one odder and more sinister than the last. Each requirement more outlandish and unsettling. Each ingredient more exotic. This time, I was the ingredient.


    It aligned eerily well with Lotte''s prediction too. The thread ending in black, signifying death. So, if this played out as expected and Barn didn''t exist to swoop in and save the day, I was a goner.


    Maybe I was overthinking it, and something else was destined to do me in. But the result remained the same.


    Wherever my destination lay, death was sure to be loitering around, twiddling its thumbs. Or it would have been, had Barn not been my protector for a month. I could feel him, a peculiar tickle, scuttling over my wrist. The carriage had been trundling along for what seemed an eternity, so it was fair to assume we were quite a distance from Randall by now. Barn could flatten them in an instant, granting me a hasty escape, but something felt awry with that notion.


    A ritual was in the offing. Somewhere nearby, a godforsaken ritual was being performed by a shadowy cabal. Naturally, the real trouble would commence based on the nature of said ritual. As Lotte had elucidated, there were different varieties: invocation, summoning, transfiguration, and the like.


    Patience would serve me well. Once we reached the ritual site, I could scrutinise the proceedings and concoct ways to sabotage it. Moreover, it would give me a chance to discern more about these kidnappers of mine.


    Yeah, this was reckless¡ªbloody reckless, I knew. I fucking knew it. But it was necessary too, wasn¡¯t it? Sure, I could kill the lot of them, right here, right now! But then I¡¯d be left with fuck all¡ªno clue who they were or why the hell they needed me. And if it¡¯s some bollocks ritual that needed my sacrifice, then what kind of ritual was it anyway? I¡¯ve got fuck all to work with¡ªno info, zilch, nothing! The ''who'' was key. If I off them now and there¡¯s a hundred more of these nutjobs lurking about, ready to have another go¡ªsay, a month after my deal with Barn expires, when I¡¯d be back home with Father¡ªoh, Thalador, what if they go after him too? If I acted rash and just slaughtered the lot, I¡¯d be proper fucked, up shit creek without a paddle.


    Right, calm down, Jade. You¡¯ve got this. You¡¯ve got a gold-rank monster backing you! A fucking gold rank! Not even an army could stop that, if the tales are true.


    So, the plan¡¯s simple¡ªhead up there, scope out whatever shit they¡¯re plotting. If it¡¯s dangerous? Fucking kill the lot of them. No mercy for those bastards who want me dead.


    A cunning scheme began to bubble up in my noggin as the carriage lurched and bumped along the forest path. I could hear the clatter of wheels against what I presumed were gnarled roots and the rugged terrain, punctuated by the occasional jolt that made my teeth rattle. I craned my neck and raised my nose ever so slightly, catching a whiff of pine and damp earth. My senses were always keener than most, even those at the grey core. Though others'' senses sharpened as their core colour upgraded, mine were still quite the anomaly. These acute senses told me we were deep in the woods, but as to our destination? I was as clueless as a hedgehog in a fog, as blind as I was gagged and voiceless.


    Finally, the carriage ground to a halt. I twisted about, straining to hear something, to catch any sound, any hint. Perhaps a chant? An invocation? A spell in a tongue from different plane? But in the end, there was naught but silence. Just the quiet whispers of the wind through the trees.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    The chap next to me stood up and flung open the carriage door. Instantly, my eyes drank in the sight outside: gently swaying trees, a thick canopy, and dappled sunlight kissing the mossy floor. The man stared ahead for a moment, a curious blue light reflecting off his polished armour, before he reached out and grabbed me.


    Oh blimey, I had completely forgotten to struggle! I immediately started shaking my head, eyes wide as his hands yanked at me. Then, like a fish out of water ¨C or perhaps more like an eel ¨C I began my pitiful wriggling dance.


    I was getting quite good at it.


    But he didn''t hoist me over his shoulder like last time. No, he simply grabbed the ropes binding me and started dragging me towards... well, I had to do a double take.


    In the middle of this lush forest opening lay something straight from those stories told about the fae kind. Flowers in all manner of hues gently swayed in the breeze, and a path cut through them, leading to the centre. There stood a massive stone formation, each stone a long hexagon. I counted six, connected in such a way that they formed a larger hexagon at the centre. Each stone bore patterns etched in a strange tongue, glowing bright blue.


    That wasn''t what made me do a double take, but the gaping void inside this hexagonal rock formation. It looked like a tarry curtain draped over the fabric of reality, something my mind immediately dismissed as a cheap illusion. A fake. It felt as unreal as the first time Barn appeared before me, his psyche like a rogue brushstroke on the canvas of existence.


    I also noticed other armoured men around, each sporting the same mask and armour. This only confirmed my suspicion of it being an organised operation. Watching me being dragged along must have been their cue, for they immediately began to scuttle towards the tarry curtain. A set of stone stairs led up to it, and each man climbed up and vanished into the curtain.


    A bloody portal? In the middle of this godforsaken forest? I knew the concept ¨C every enchanter worth their salt dreamt of creating one. There must be some contraption on the other side where this curtain led.


    The tar-like curtain constantly rippled and bubbled, absorbing every single one of them. My breathing hitched as I approached it. Was it too late to have Barn kill them and make a dash for it? No. I needed to get a grip. Here I was, deluding myself into thinking I could halt a ritual I knew nothing about, relying on Barn to do all the heavy lifting, with no clue what awaited me on the other side.


    This little pep talk wasn''t going as planned. Perhaps it was time to stop thinking altogether and brace myself.


    I felt a wee scuttle on my wrist. Perhaps Barn sensed my jittery state, for he scurried closer, leaving his bony tail for me to clutch.


    While it did naught to calm my nerves, I gripped it tightly as Barn coiled further around my wrist, repeating the gesture. Odd, but I could feel a smile creeping onto my face, a little twirl of the lips as the man stepped through the tar curtain portal, dragging me in with him.


    We emerged into an enormous... room? No, it was more of a grand hall, really. Rather spacious. The ceiling stretched so high it could almost touch the clouds, if it were outdoors. I''d liken it to one of those grand rooms in Thalador''s Cathedral in Alcor, if it weren''t for the peculiar carvings adorning the walls. Faces and monstrous figures, eerily human in form, stared back at us. Featureless faces, blank slates, skin like wings, and wolves with sharp teeth sprouting from every inch of their bodies, cracked and grotesque. Torches flickered along the walls, casting ghostly shadows over these strange carvings. The air, as it filled my lungs, was thick with an ancient mustiness.


    Expectations? Not a clue. But what I didn''t foresee was a gaggle of robed figures standing at attention, clearly awaiting our arrival. They stood, almost statuesque, clad in voluminous black robes adorned with intricate golden embroidery. Symbols and runes shimmered in their golden splendour, suggesting these were no mere decorative stitches. Enchanted, no doubt. While they might not turn away a sharp blade, they surely offered protection against magical assaults.


    My ears pricked up at the sound of distant murmurs. An exit loomed behind the robed figures, and from beyond it, the echo of many voices reached us. A chant, unmistakably. A ritual was underway.


    One of the robed figures stepped forward, holding a peculiar device. It was a contraption with a massive core inscribed with Vel'' Tan script. Or at least, that''s what it seemed like. The empire''s official enchanting script, but with some curious ¡­deviations. The script was unusually curvy, with some symbols I couldn''t quite place, suggesting it was either a modified version or an entirely different one. I could decipher about half of it, but the rest was a baffling puzzle.


    Concentric rings of gold-like metal enveloped the core, etched with similarly bizarre symbols, with a single, shiny needle sticking out of the front.


    No time for further inspection, though, as the armoured brutes flanking me roughly prised my hands from their bonds.


    I heaved a sigh of relief. My hands had been bound so tightly that the blood flow had practically stopped. I raised them, attempting to flex and rid myself of this bizarre numbness that made my fingers feel like pins and needles.


    Huh.


    My hand was caught mid-flex. I glanced up, deadpan, to find one of the chaps grabbing my wrist with a grip like iron, forcing my hand toward the needle. Seriously?


    But just as the needle was about to pierce my skin, it stopped. Oh, bugger! I''d nearly forgotten about it. Barn! Lowering my head, I gave a subtle shake towards my wrist, hoping he''d catch my drift. If Barn kept this up, my cover would be blown. He scuttled across my skin but, mercifully, refrained from clacking his jaws.


    The man holding my hand now scowled, pressing the needle even harder against my skin with more force than necessary.


    Ouch, ouch, ouch. Take it easy, big guy.


    Pain surged through my hand as I cursed inwardly. Yet, beneath it all, I was silently thanking Barn for letting the needle do its worst. It would have been rather calamitous if they realized I wasn''t as helpless as I appeared.


    No one paid me the slightest bit of attention as the crystal attached to the needle glowed a brilliant gold before dimming. The robed figures immediately erupted into a hubbub, whispering in a language that eluded me. One of them sauntered forward, giving the chap holding me a hearty pat on the shoulder and uttering something to him.


    What in blazes was that language they were speaking? Were they celebrating? Though I couldn''t fathom their words, it certainly seemed that way. Perhaps they were delighted that I was precisely the sort of "good" they required. How delightful. This was becoming rather irksome.


    The robed men moved en masse towards the exit where the chanting was emanating. And I, predictably, wasn''t afforded the dignity of walking. Instead, I was unceremoniously dragged along like a sack of spuds.

 Chapter 12: The Soul Devouring Serpent, Barn

    The exit led us into a tunnel, where a line of glowing runes was embedded in the walls, making me think of enchanting on a rather grand scale. I cast one last glance at the portal stone formation. Similar lines adorned the floor, lines I hadn''t noticed before. It struck me that this portal wasn''t just a portal but had some other purpose I wasn''t aware of. Blast this alien script; I couldn''t make heads or tails of it.


    But alas, my curiosity was fleeting.


    We stumbled into a vast hall, a grandiose cavern filled with hooded figures standing in the aisles. They were all chanting in unison, a low, droning murmur that felt more like a prayer than a ritual chant.


    I craned my neck, squinting to see if there was any sort of ritual circle beneath their feet. But there wasn''t a trace of one! Why were they chanting outside the ritual circles? It made no sense. Lotte had once mentioned something about the necessity of being within the circle for the chanting to be effective. I had no clue.


    The ceiling soared high above, disappearing into the shadows or maybe just painted a deep, inky black. Towering columns supported it, each adorned with carvings of the same cryptic script. The runes seemed to be linked to the ritual, making me wonder if they acted as a sort of Mana Focus¡ªa continuous script designed to condense ambient mana. The pillars gleamed, perhaps they were made entirely of metal. A mana conductor, perhaps? Orichalcum? Going by their deep grey colour, it made sense! I had cracked it!


    I would have patted myself on the back for it, truly, it was worth a bit of self-congratulation. But this moment of mine was cut short as my eyes widened in horror.


    We had emerged right in the middle of the chanting crowd, and the scene before me was horrific. The first thing that hit me was the scent: a mix of burning incense and a distinct coppery tang. I should have noticed it sooner with my keen senses, but perhaps my mind had been elsewhere.


    A massive ritual was the only fitting description for the spectacle in front of me. At the centre of it all was a colossal serpent-like monster, its scales peeled away as it was pinned to an equally enormous board covered in runes. But that sight alone didn''t make my stomach churn. No, it was what lay beneath that turned my insides to ice.


    I counted five. Five beast-kin, their twisted horns eerily similar to mine, strung up. They were gutted, their intestines and organs removed, leaving only their skeletal spines visible. They hung upside down, with ornate, scripted pillars driven through their mouths. Their hands and feet were tied back as if they were praying. Blood still trickled from these pillars, pooling at their bases where ritual circles were inscribed. This blood fed into channels of strange runes carved into these circles, creating this macabre lattice. It pulsed every time a blood droplet landed on them.


    My stomach churned violently. My eyes were locked onto the horrific scene, unable to look away despite every fibre of my being screaming to do so. I wanted to turn, to flee, to erase the image from my mind, but for whatever reason, I was frozen in place. There was something. The sheer wrongness of it all, the defilement of the living. An abomination. A violation. Defilement of everything natural and sacred.


    The central pillar, far more grandiose than its counterparts, was bedecked with matching runes, mirroring those in the tunnel. It seemed to throb in rhythm with each chant, and there were two hooded figures standing in ritual circles beneath it, each gripping a colossal, ornate axe. Only then did I notice two peculiar holes in the pillar¡ªnot perfectly round, but rather, two pointed impressions, just large enough for a head adorned with horns like mine to fit snugly into. Two of them? Hold on a tick.


    That''s when I heard a belated sob from behind me. A man, bound and weeping, unlike my unshackled self. The only similarity between us was the horns. He was being dragged closer. Only voice coming from him was a desperate wailing.


    "NO, NO, PLEASE, NO! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM MY FAMILY! KILLED THEM ALL! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"


    "PLEASE, LET ME GO!"


    "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? PLEASE, HAVE MERCY!"


    His desperate pleas snapped me out of my stupor. But who wouldn''t be frozen in such a moment? My mission had been simple: analyse the runes and sabotage them with Barn''s help. I never intended to harm everyone¡ªjust the leaders of this wretched cult.


    I''ve always wondered, why are some people so beastly? Was it nature''s doing? Surely not. Perhaps it was the grip of power or the chill of fear that twisted them into these¡­ monsters. As I glanced around, the chants of hundreds grew louder, more fervent.


    What drove them to such madness? Could it be trauma, or a darkness they couldn''t flee from? My tentative conclusion had always been that no one is born wicked. It''s the circumstances, choices, and influences that shape us.


    But perhaps I had been mistaken. Maybe evil didn''t need a reason to exist.


    I turned my gaze to the hooded figure before me, his wild grin widening as he awaited the horned man to be dragged closer. He was the one wielding that needle contraption. I decided there was no need to keep up the charade any longer.


    Suddenly, I felt a scuttle across my wrist. Three sharp snaps of jaws echoed, though no one seemed to hear amidst the rising frenzy of the chants. "Kill?" His questions were always simple. "Soon," I whispered.


    My tone turned as frigid as winter as I stood tall, eyes locked on the hooded man with barely contained loathing. "What made you this way?"


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    At first, I thought he''d not hear a thing. But then, quicker than a wink, his grinning gob vanished from where he stood and reappeared mere inches from my face. Astonishingly, I didn''t flinch. The overwhelming loathing I felt, seemed to have far outstripped any fear of anyone in this room.


    The first thing I noticed was his breath, sour and hot, puffing against my face like an Amber Salamander with halitosis. I tilted my head, waiting for him to say something, but he remained silent.


    "I believe I posed a query, my fine sir," I prompted, my voice dripping with faux politeness.


    He turned away, laughing loudly enough to make the people around us murmur. "Ah, but why should I bother responding to a filthy beast like you?"


    I raised an eyebrow; that was rather rude. Given how they''d treated me from the start, it was clear beast-kin were not popular in this crowd. No surprise there.


    I shook my head and smiled. "Listen, mate, I''m quite aware of where my noggin is destined." I pointed towards the ominous indents in the middle tower. "Call me barmy, but I''ve accepted my fate. You lot shelled out a pretty penny for me, so why not answer a dying beast''s final question?"


    I grinned, broad and white. He studied my face for a moment before shaking his head. "A cheeky little beastie like you, so spirited, so ready to depart this life. That blas¨¦ attitude could drive some men to madness. I wouldn''t have minded scrubbing you down and bedding you if it weren''t for the pressing matter at hand." He licked his lips in a way that made my stomach churn with sheer disgust.


    "Ah, regarding your inquiry," he chortled, "Power, naturally! What else could it be? Trust me, once you''ve had a taste, there''s no going back."


    "I have a hunch that power wasn''t the only motive behind slaying these beast kin," I drawled.


    He burst into laughter once more. "Oh, absolutely not! Think of it as purging the land of its filth. Although, we did keep a few of the beast women alive¡ªfor certain... entertainment purposes."


    A murderer, a rapist. The list of his crimes grew longer.


    "And what purpose do I serve in all this?" I queried.


    "Our Patron, the Styn'' Lor Seat of Foresight, has a particular fondness for the life force of your kind. He thrives on the blood of the beastly, finds it invigorating, you see. Tonight, we shall receive His blessing in the grandest manner¡ªtwo sacrifices, untouched by worldly magic."


    He was increasingly justifying the horrors to come.


    Just one last question. A small part of me hoped for a shred of redemption so that his death might be less cruel. If only two of us were to be sacrificed, then...


    "What of those five, tied, gutted, and defiled? Were they part of the sacrifice as well?"


    I knew. Deep down, I already knew the answer. The runes¡ªElbereth, Felim, Seraphim, and Glyndor¡ªwere decorative rather than practical, meant to make something glow. Blood on floor in this case.


    They were disconnected from the ritual, serving no purpose. Please, let there be some hidden meaning I had overlooked.


    Red eyes locked onto me as the hooded man opened his mouth, his eyes twinkling with a smile, "Don''t you think they look rather splendid like that?"


    I rubbed my eyes. What on earth was I even doing? The wailing man was now right beside me, his eyes widening as he looked at me. He might have said something, but I didn''t catch it.


    The swordsman who had been restraining me earlier seemed to have had enough of my defiance. He reached for my hair, or at least he tried to. His hand froze in mid-air. I stepped forward toward the ritual.


    Five hooded men were conducting the ritual, standing in crimson circles.


    "Barn, could you lift me up for all to see?" I asked.


    Three affirmative clacks of his skeletal jaw were my answer. I felt an invisible force lift me, much like when Lotte helps me off her back or places me there when I want to gaze at the skies.


    I floated upward, bound in this comfortable cocoon of force, until I reached the spot where the defiled serpent monster was hung. The chanting grew chaotic as some people murmured about this randomly flying fellow, while others tried to continue their incantations. I stared back and saw a massive black flame hurled toward my face. An invisible energy barrier appeared half a meter away from me, rippling as it quite literally devoured the black flame.


    The foul-mouthed man was staring at me with wide eyes, hurling fireballs one after another. But it was utterly futile.


    It all happened so swiftly, scarcely a soul noticed as air turning positively frosty. Just as he was poised to lob another fireball, he seized up, his hands suspended in mid-air. The fury in his eyes morphed to abject terror in a heartbeat.


    Barn revealed his true form, a slithering presence in the air, right behind me. That familiar dread washed over me once more. Despite Barn being my ally, something primal within me recoiled, leaving me utterly helpless against this feeling. His very presence was suffocatingly cold.


    The chanting ceased, the noise vanished; a stark silence enveloped the room. They stood immobilised, eyes fixated on Barn, who hovered ominously behind me. Yet, despite their desperate wishes, none could flee.


    "Well, aside from the horned fellow lounging on the floor, these poor sods don''t warrant a smidgeon of our sympathy," I declared, ensuring my voice carried to every corner of the room. I longed to lock eyes with Barn as I continued, "Give them the MOST GHASTLY demise conceivable!"


    A thrill of glee seemed to ripple from Barn. Then came the unsettling symphony of teeth gnashing and bones snapping.


    "Souls! Tasty! Devour! Permission?"


    Why on earth was he asking for my permission? My facade of calm wavered as I fought the urge to glance his way. I loathed conversing with someone without looking them in the eye.


    "Why do you need my permission for that?" I asked, perplexed.


    "Contract. Forbidden. Need permission!"


    I''d instructed him to inflict a horrid end upon them. Was soul-nibbling really that dreadful?


    "Umm, yes, s-sure, go ahead," I stammered.


    In hindsight, I really ought to have given it a bit more thought.

 Chapter 13: La Creatura

    What did I imagine a soul to be, I wonder? Perhaps something ethereal, like a wisp of mist, or maybe a tangible essence, like a sparkling gem. Honestly, I never thought to ask anyone, not even Lotte. In hindsight, that was a blunder of monumental proportions. I really, really should have asked her.


    The very moment I granted Barn permission to nibble on these unfortunate souls, the air turned frightfully cold¡ªmuch colder than it had been. With three swift clicks of his jaw, tiny specks of light began to appear above the heads of each cult member, who were now frozen in place by Barn''s overwhelming presence.


    I couldn''t help but wonder if I''d turn into an icicle myself if I dared to look at Barn right now. Shaking my head, I pushed that thought aside, a worry for another day. The motes of light reminded me of little faeries as they floated above everyone. And then, in the blink of an eye, it happened. Everyone. Simply. Vanished.


    Cultists standing in aisles, leaders near the main ritual, and people gathered in ritual circles¡ªall gone. A strange sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu washed over me as I stared at the floor, now drenched in crimson. But when the shrill cries pierced the air, and I saw the multitude of eyes emerging from the puddles of blood, I knew something was dreadfully amiss.


    The ominous chanting had morphed into bone-chilling shrieks. Slowly, these grotesque puddles of eyes and teeth began to rise, no longer frozen. They swirled together, like a ghastly blender, forming two distinct crimson vortexes around me. The tops of these whirling bloodstorms gravitated towards Barn, who loomed just behind me.


    I saw it pass by¡ªan actual bloodshot eye, very much alive in that gruesome state. Twisted teeth intersected it, swirling through the vortex. I could feel it¡ªthe sheer dread in those unholy cries. The mere sensation of what Barn had done was enough to chill my very soul. Perhaps this was why Lotte had forbidden the munching of souls.


    The wretched screams just kept on, swirling through those ghastly vortexes of gore that whisked past me, never to be seen again, presumably making their way into Barn''s belly or whatever he had that passed for one. The hall had been bustling with people mere minutes ago, but now, only two of us remained.


    The guy with the horns, still rooted to the spot, poor sod, because he''d had the unfortunate idea of looking directly at Barn.


    My mind was off on a dreadful jaunt I''d rather it not have taken. I had just... killed people. Well, ordered Barn to, but still, it was my hands that were metaphorically drenched in blood. The crimson whirlwinds continued their eerie dance around me, chilling my very core, yet Barn''s sheer ecstasy was nearly overwhelming. But before I could dwell on that peculiar sensation, it seemed I was out of time.


    There was a sudden rumble.


    What the deuce?


    It wasn''t from Barn but from the massive, ornate pillar beneath me, where my head had so recently been poised for sacrificial execution. The tremor echoed through the hall. What on earth was happening? I glanced around from my floating vantage point. The surrounding pillars, designed to work as mana-condensing apparatus, were going haywire as well. My eyes slowly traced the ritual lines beneath me.


    The runes were still functioning, but what I hadn''t noticed earlier was that the ritual lacked a focus. Many rituals don''t use a focus, instead relying on the person conducting it to redirect the mana using themselves as a conduit.


    And Barn had... well, he''d offed all the conduits. There was no one left to redirect the mana from these towers.


    A bit of a kerfuffle from halting the ritual, it seemed. The entire hall was in a right state, with the five towers around me shaking like leaves in a gale. Cracks began to slither up the walls, and though I couldn''t feel it directly, I knew it was the handiwork of untamed mana. Blast it! This was precisely the sort of chaos I should have anticipated, but I was so consumed by my loathing that I hadn''t given a fig for the consequences of halting an unknown ritual midway. I needed to act, and swiftly.


    "BARN!" I bellowed. The crimson vortexes were nearly gone, swirling away into nothingness behind me.


    The horned guy, still paralyzed, was staring blankly. He wasn''t going to move in his state. Dash it all! I had to get a grip. The situation was spiralling out of control, and if I didn''t do something, the entire place would come tumbling down. Or worse, the mana might bottle up and explode without warning.


    The force that had been holding me in place began to waver. Wait, what was Barn up to?


    "BARN!" I shouted again, louder this time. Why on earth wasn''t he responding?


    Still, there was nothing. No clacking of his jaw, no sound of bone knitting, just an eerie silence. Tapping into our bond only brought a wave of ecstasy, not the reassurance I needed.


    "Barn¡­" I called once more, but there was only silence in return.


    I felt it as the force holding me fizzled out completely. Blast it. But I was ready. Though devoid of magic, I compensated with sheer physical strength. I was at the top of the main ornate tower¡ªwell, not exactly on it, but close enough to grab its edges as I plummeted. My hands found purchase on its metallic surface, adorned with massive words from the same script, deeply carved.


    Using the engravings, I began my descent. I wedged my fingers into the grooves, sliding down carefully, my muscles straining as I controlled my speed. I swung my legs to the side, finding the next foothold. It required a bit of precision, but nothing I couldn''t do. I repeated the process until my feet finally touched solid ground.


    The moment I landed, I bolted without a backward glance. Something was wrong with Barn. And I was an utter nincompoop for even letting him attempt something forbidden by Lotte''s contract. It was as if he were... intoxicated, in a way.


    Damn it!


    I dashed towards the frozen man. "I''m so sorry," I murmured, covering his eyes and spinning him around a full 180 degrees. The instant I did, life surged back into his stiff form.


    "P-Princess Vernia!" he wheezed, his voice a raspy whisper that quickly morphed into a horrid retch as he emptied his stomach onto the floor. Thankfully, he had the decency to avert his eyes.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    I could have sworn he called me something similar earlier when he was dragged in. Why on earth was he calling me that? I was no Vernia, and certainly not a princess. But there was no time for a comforting chat. The whole hall was now vibrating like an overworked teapot.


    My eyes widened as I bolted to the nearest pillar, my fingers brushing against its cold, metallic surface. Orichalcum. The best mana conductor ever known. Too soft to make weapons but perfect for magic tools.


    The runes were etched deep into the metal. I could decipher some, but not enough, a rather worrying sign in the book of enchanting. Even if I could translate the lot, could I stop the cursed thing from hoarding mana and going berserk? I couldn''t sense mana, let alone control it.


    "Princess Vernia! I-I can''t fathom how these people got hold of you. B-But what did you do to them?" the man stammered behind me.


    I sighed, casting a weary glance at him. He flinched, directing his trembling finger towards where Barn was, though he dared not look.


    "I don''t know who this Princess Vernia is that you speak of, but I assure you, it''s not me. You''ve got the wrong person."


    He gawked at me as if I''d grown another head. Well, I''d told him the truth; I''d never met any beast-kin in my entire life.


    "B-But¡­"


    I cut him off, "We can discuss this later. Right now, we need to es¡ª"


    A sudden, more formidable rumble sent me sprawling, and a gust of chilly air washed over me. I kept my eyes firmly on the ground, steering my gaze towards the central tower of the ritual, in an attempt to not gaze at Barn.


    It began to glow.


    OH CRIKEY!


    Without a moment''s hesitation, I grabbed the guy next to me¡ªwho seemed to grasp that something was amiss but lacked the good sense to leg it¡ªby his arms.


    "RUN!" I bellowed.


    "H-Huh!" he stammered as I yanked him along, but that was enough to ignite his survival instincts. He screamed and sprinted after me, making a dash for the end of the hall.


    The hall was now shaking with a vengeance. I was screaming too as I ran. What else could I do? The main tower was about to unleash its pent-up mana, and I needed to take cover. My feet pounded against the stone floor, dodging debris falling from the quivering ceiling.


    So close.


    So¡­ Close¡­


    The last thing I remembered was my hand reaching out for some semblance of protection that probably didn''t exist, as my vision was enveloped in a flash of silent white.


    Then everything went black.


    ***


    I blinked myself awake to the most splendid sight ¨C a vast expanse of clear blue sky, a perfect canvas of azure, adorned with the laziest, fluffiest clouds one could imagine. They floated about as if time were of no consequence. The grass beneath me, soft as a green velvet cushion, was a tad damp for my liking, but it cradled me as though I were nestled in the finest down.


    Hmm, was I dead?


    I stretched out a dainty claw towards the sky. Good heavens, what a delightful little appendage! Black scales sparkled in the sunlight, and the tiny paws were adorned with the most fearsome-looking pointy bits.


    Hmm?


    ...


    ...


    ...


    With a slow, deliberate motion, I lowered one claw and raised another. My neck ¨C when had it become so absurdly long? ¨C stretched as I peered down at my scaled tummy, plump like a chubby little salamander. I wiggled my clawed toes, each a miniature paw. My tail, long and sinuous, swayed lazily at the end, covered in those sleek black scales.


    Damn.


    I willed my tail to the left, and it obligingly followed. To the right, it swung with equal compliance. Hehehehe. I coiled it around my claws, and it wrapped perfectly. Death, it seemed, was quite the serene experience, affording me the leisure to play with this peculiar new body.


    Suddenly, a rumble shattered the tranquillity, sending tremors through the grassy field as if something colossal had landed. A massive silhouette loomed above me. A giant serpentine head with eyes larger than my entire form.


    "LOTTE! I''VE MADE A RIGHT HASH OF IT!" I shouted, unable to suppress a giggle.


    "It appears that way," her singsong voice echoed inside my head.


    "I dare say, letting Barn gobble up all those souls might have been a tad unwise," I mused.


    Lotte''s enormous head tilted ever so slightly. "NetherBeasts use souls to grow," she explained, "but consuming too many at once overwhelms their bodies, making it impossible for them to think or function properly. That''s precisely why I added that clause in the contract." She paused, before adding, "How many did he devour?"


    Ah yes, daft me struck again! I chuckled nervously, "Erm, would hundreds be considered excessive?"


    "Depends on how powerful they were."


    "Mostly yellow cores, I suppose, with a smattering of reds." I wasn''t entirely sure, but the hooded fellow was definitely at red ¨C those black fireballs were quite something.


    Lotte''s enormous head drifted closer, coming to rest on a rocky outcrop beside me. I swear it hadn''t been there before; these rocks just appear whenever she fancies a spot to rest her noggin. "Eight hours should suffice for him to recover," she mused, her voice still the same delightful melody in my head. Oh, how I adored her voice.


    "Splendid," I replied, stretching out my new and quite marvelous claws. "So, what''s on the agenda in the meantime? I must confess, being deceased isn''t as ghastly as I''d feared."


    "Well, being dead is rather different, I assure you," she retorted.


    Was there a dash of sarcasm in her tone? I wasn''t entirely sure.


    "Uhh¡­"


    "Up you get," she commanded.


    Right-o, I sprang to action straightaway, making a right hash of it by trying to hoist myself up on all fours, only to promptly face-plant into the grass. Ouch, that smarts. Well, that was a bit of a cock-up. Tried again. Front right claw, then front left. Hmm, nice and steady up front. Now for the rear. Shifted each hind leg, one after the other. This bizarre sensation of stretching muscles and tendons felt positively queer. My tail, bless it, stretched out and lent a surprising bit of balance. Success! Finally standing on all fours like a natural!


    I shot a glance at Lotte as the question bubbling up inside me popped out. "Hold on a jiffy, in the real world, I''m either squashed flat under a mountain of rubble or vaporised by that mana burst. What in blazes did you mean by ''quite different''? Am I..." I faltered as a wave of anxiety washed over me, "still alive?"


    "I haven''t got much time to explain; you need to wake up soon and eat something."


    Wake up? So, still dreaming, then? Not some cushy afterlife. Hang about! "WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BODY THEN?" I started hopping about, gradually getting the hang of my new form. Peered down at my tiny self, noting the feeble little wings¡ªjust a chubby, scaled critter.


    I looked at Lotte, then back at myself, then back at her again. Her long, serpentine head, black scales, two pairs of clawed limbs, and that graceful, sinuous tail. "And why do I look like a pint-sized version of you?"

 Chapter 14: Eat to Survive

    Awakening was the usual caper¡ªslipping back into reality from the embrace of dreams. In my dreams, I felt no different than in reality, save for the delightful thought that pain couldn''t touch me there. So, when I roused to a symphony of aches and pains, I knew I was unmistakably alive.


    I was greeted by the curious sensation of... hands?


    It took a tick for my eyes to adjust¡ªthose peculiar, slit-like eyes of mine felt so strange. Upon opening them, I immediately regretted it. The world was awash in a kaleidoscope of blinding hues, causing my eyes instant agony.


    What on earth was that?


    I kept my eyes shut for a moment, taking stock of my surroundings through my other senses¡ªnamely my ears and my very skin... err, scales? Right, first things first: it felt just like in my dreams. I flexed them, my claws, confirming I still had these new appendages, the little limbs on my back, and the tail.


    So, it carried over¡ªmy form was just as it was in dreams. I sincerely hoped Lotte would have a reasonable explanation when I returned because this whole business was driving me barmy.


    Things needed sorting. First, I had to figure out what had happened. I was fairly certain the bottled-up mana in those towers had gone haywire. What was that flash of white that knocked me out? Initially, I thought it was a blast of concentrated mana, but that should have vaporized me and the chap with me on the spot. Perhaps it was something else¡ªsomething to ponder later and query Lotte about. For now, I needed to get this fellow to calm down.


    He was blubbering like a baby, clutching me for dear life. Although my vision was still on the fritz, I could feel someone hugging me like their favorite stuffed bear. I craned my long neck and ever so slowly cracked open an eyelid. The world was still ablaze with a riot of colors, but I was ready for it this time. I umm, squinted. Half opening my eyes helped them a lot against those pesky colours. I was even thinking of using a bit of fabric as a makeshift eye mask can help dim them, but squinting would do for now.


    It worked, more or less, just enough to make out the same horned fellow clinging to me like I was his last lifeline, crouched behind a massive wall. I peered around, the bright hues were still making my eyes water, but I had to assess the situation. Debris littered the floor, yet the walls and ceiling appeared mostly intact. The structure had taken a beating but was still standing firm despite the gaping holes here and there.


    With a bit of a squirm, I wriggled free from his grasp, making him yelp in surprise. I glanced down at myself, now fully in my little scaly critter form. It was just like in the dream, which gave me some time to adjust. But what I couldn''t adjust to was my size! The chap who was now gawking at me had been smaller than me before, and now I barely reached his knees.


    Bah, humbug!


    The man, still trying to catch his breath, looked at me with a bit of relief mixed with more caution. "You''re awake! Thank ancestors." His words were grateful, but his face seemed to be having an entirely different conversation.


    "When did this happen?" I inquired, pointing a rather perplexed claw at myself. A silent thank you to all deities that I could still speak, albeit in an oddly squeaky timbre. And honestly, why on earth was I so small?


    He took a deep breath, as if trying to marshal his thoughts. "We were escaping, remember? Everything was going wrong. The hall was crumbling, you were screaming your head off too..." His voice trailed off into the ether.


    I nodded, trying to assemble my fragmented recollections. "Yes, the running bit. But what came next?"


    "Well," he continued, "we were making our escape when this... this shockwave of white washed over us. Felt not a thing myself, but you..." He hesitated, giving me a look laced with concern.


    "But I...?" I pressed, growing impatient. Time was not on my side; Lotte had mentioned I needed to eat something soon.


    "You just keeled over," he said, his brow furrowing like a worried hedgehog. "One moment you were there, dashing beside me, and the next, you were out cold. Then, when I tried to rouse you, I noticed you''d... changed."


    "Changed?" I echoed, glancing down at my own form. So something fishy had happened. We were both clueless in the end. Lotte had better have some answers. The way she insisted I needed a nibble, it was as if she had foreseen this scenario. She always claimed she wasn''t a seer. Bah, I was beginning to have my doubts.


    At this moment, I felt like one of those pesky lizard monsters with wings. I flapped them experimentally, harder and faster, but it was a futile effort. What was the point of these appendages if I couldn''t even manage a proper flight?


    As I mulled over my utterly pointless wings, a sudden glimmer of light caught my attention. Before I could even blink, a translucent screen appeared before me, glowing with an eerie luminescence. What the devil?


    Notification!


    Message: If you''re seeing this, Jade, then my attempt was a success.


    My mind went blank for a moment¡ªattempt? Success? A notification?


    Notification!


    Message: I know you have questions, but this method of communication is dreadfully one-sided. I shan''t be able to hear or respond to anything you say.


    "Wait! Wait! Wait! Hold on a tick!"


    Notification!


    Message: It''s rather fascinating, I must admit. By reverse engineering what Barn did, I managed to establish a connection through this thing. Return to the dream once you''re safe. There are multiple threads turning red around you. Be cautious and don''t rush. Only sleep once you''re certain of your safety or if Barn awakens.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Lotte? By Jove, it was indeed Lotte! She had found a way to converse with me beyond the realm of dreams! A rush of joy and warmth enveloped me, momentarily diverting my mind from her last ominous warning. Ah, those crimson threads were there as well¡­ I knew well what they portended. Danger, pure and simple. And multiple threads? Multiple sources of peril. I felt a chill creeping through my veins.


    Notification!


    Message: Oh, it seems I might have bungled things up and intercepted another message from this thing.Right, let me step back for a moment, it should come through.


    Mission Alert!


    Objective: Eat to Survive


    Task: Devour some sustenance within the next half hour.


    Reward: Triple Morphogen and Experience from the subsequent kill.


    Penalty: Immediate Death.


    Accept: Y/N?


    I blinked, attempting to digest the information. Wait, what was this about immediate death? LOTTE! I wanted to refuse, to rail against the absurdity of it all, but then another line of text appeared, dashing any such hopes.


    Survival Missions are Automatically Accepted!


    "Bloody marvellous," I muttered, glancing at the fellow who was still observing me with a bit of concern and, perhaps, confusion. But alas, I had no time to decipher his expression.


    "What''s the matter?" he inquired.


    "Nothing," I replied, unwilling to divulge too much. Lotte had already hinted that something peculiar had befallen me and had emphasized the importance of eating immediately upon waking. Would I have perished had I remained in the dream and not been ushered out by Lotte? Crikey, that was a morbid thought.


    His eyes told me he didn''t believe me one bit. First things first, I needed his name; I was getting rather tired of referring to him as ''this chap'' or ''this fellow'' in my head.


    "What''s your name?"


    "Er, m-me?" he stammered.


    "Of course! Who else do you see around us?"


    "It''s Stephan. P¡ª" He halted, likely about to say "Princess Vernia." Good. I didn''t fancy being called by someone else''s name.


    "Jade. The name''s Jade. I''d love to natter more, but I desperately need to eat something. For some inexplicable reason, it feels like if I don''t consume something within the next half an hour, I might very well die."


    He looked horrified. "But how?"


    "I haven''t the foggiest," I admitted, letting a touch of frustration seep into my voice. "But it seems I don''t have a choice in the matter."


    As for something edible, if there were threads of danger weaving around me, then there must be a source. I glanced at my claws, sharp and deadly, and snapped my teeth, ready to rend flesh. If there was a threat lurking, I licked my teeth, surveying the surroundings, it jolly well better be something I can munch on.


    "We''re in quite the danger, I tell you. Don''t ask me how I know, just trust that I do."


    He looked at me not with scepticism but with a hint of surprise. "I, um, might have a clue about that."


    Hmm, he did?


    "You''re aware of the danger around us?"


    He said nothing, merely pointed upwards. There, in the wall, was a sizable hole.


    I stared at it, irked by how diminutive I''d become. The old me would''ve peeked through it just by standing tall. "I might need a lift to get a gander at this."


    It took him a moment, but he caught on and hoisted me up. Elevated thus, I peered through the hole.


    I searched for anything that screamed ''danger.'' Debris was scattered all about. Beyond the wall lay a hallway, stretching out into the unknown. Its width was ample enough for two carriages to pass side by side, and its height was quite ordinary. The walls, once smooth and artfully crafted, were now blemished with cracks and chips. Faint remnants of intricate carvings were barely visible over the damaged surfaces.


    Dead sconces lined the passage, their lights long extinguished. But I didn''t need their glow to spot the shadows skittering amidst the debris. They moved swiftly, eyes glinting crimson, and filling me with a creeping dread. My earlier bravado about danger being a potential snack was quickly ebbing away.


    It seemed they hadn''t noticed me, thank goodness. Stephan slowly lowered me back down.


    "Part of the reason I''m hiding here," he said. "Ever since that shockwave of white hit, it seems like every magical device and enchantment broke. None of them are working anymore."


    This implied something I really didn''t want to hear.


    "So¡­ the portals too?" My voice trembled. Please, please say you didn''t check. Please, stop my mind from spiraling. Please¡­ prove Lotte wrong for once.


    "Stopped working as well." His eyes glistened with unshed tears. I felt a similar numbness settling into my own, not from those blazing colours, but from a sudden, profound sorrow. And with it came a surge of anger¡ªdirected at myself.


    Lotte had advised me to bid my farewells, warning I''d end up in some far-flung locale. But heed her words? Not I. Now, in this altered state, no one would recognise me. The portal home had ceased functioning. What would Father think? Had he concluded I''d scarpered, abandoning him?


    I blinked back the tears and gave my head a resolute shake. There would be time aplenty to wallow in this wretchedness later. I silently assured my anxious heart that I would find a way back. The method was unclear, but find it I would.


    Presently, I had more pressing matters to address. Either I found something to nibble on soon, or I''d meet my maker.

 Chapter 15: The Scheme

    I gazed once more at the skittering shadows as Stephan hoisted me up, their creepy-crawly forms darting away in the dim light. "What do you reckon these blighters are?" I whispered as he gently set me down.


    Squinting into the gloom did little to help; my eyes still couldn''t fully open thanks to the blinding hues that lingered all around me.


    "They seem like spider-like monsters, but I''ve never seen any this size," Stephan remarked, peering into the darkness. "They''re swarming the place! One even tried to give chase, so I had to squeeze myself into a narrow gap in the wall. Lucky for me, it couldn''t fit, so it ran off."


    Monsters, out of the blue, swarming the whole joint. It sounded utterly bonkers for a place that might very well be the headquarters of an entire cult. Their resources, their formidable warriors, their numbers and power, it made little sense that the security of their base would be this lax.


    I had my hunch. The same pesky shockwave of white magic had to be the culprit once again. Ever since it hit, none of the enchantments had been working. Maybe whatever spell kept the monsters out had fizzled as well. But where in the devil''s name was this base located that it would be overrun with monsters the moment the protection spell broke?


    Hmm.


    "Can you handle yourself in a scrap?" I inquired of Stephan. "I know we''re both in the same woeful predicament, mana-less as a dried-up well. But did you, by any chance, take up some good old-fashioned fisticuffs training to compensate?"


    He was sporting a grey tunic, but underneath, I could spy some well-defined muscles. His hands were rough, bristled with callouses¡ªquite the labourer''s mitts. As for me, in my usual guise, I could land a decent punch or two. But now, in my current, more diminutive form, I felt more agile. My claws were sharp as a barber''s razor, and my teeth¡ªoh, what a set of gnashers! I clicked them together, made me feel rather pleased with myself.


    Hmm, I had to admit, I was perhaps more capable in this form than in my human one. I was light, nimble, and if only these blasted wings weren''t so useless! One could only hope these scales were more than just decorative.


    "Umm, I¡­ do have some mana in me," Stephan muttered.


    That brought my musings to an abrupt halt.


    "What?" I asked, quite incredulously.


    He sighed, dramatically, quite the shift from his earlier frightened demeanour. "Well, I suppose you''d make that assumption based on what they had said," he began, giving his neck a good old scratch. "I was born with about as much mana as a damp sponge, practically a trickle, if that. But that''s just how people are; rumours spread faster than a lizardman''s sneeze, and soon enough, the word on the street was that I was magically impotent."


    He continued, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I had to admit, he cut quite a dashing figure, almost roguish, if one could look past his initial crybaby impression. "It wasn''t easy, growing up with everyone thinking I couldn''t muster a spark of magic to save my life. My family, bless them, tried to keep it under wraps, but there''s only so much you can do when the whole village is whispering behind your back."


    "Oh, the things I tried to prove them wrong. I''d sneak off to the old leader''s tower, even pinched a few of his tomes, hoping to find some kind of secret that would unlock my hidden potential. It never happened."


    He held up a hand, and with a concentrated look, summoned the tiniest flicker of light at his fingertip. It was barely brighter than a matchstick''s flame. "This, my friend, is about all I can do. No fireballs, no lightning bolts. Just this ¡­pathetic little glow."


    He extinguished the light with a quick flick of his wrist and shrugged. "I did train with a sword, but right now I have no sword, and my fists, it seems, won''t be much use against those monsters. So, in answer to your question, I''m afraid I won''t be much help in a fight," he added with a sad smile.


    Well, someone I could relate to. He wasn''t completely magically impotent like me; he had a smidgen of mana, unlike my complete lack of it. So those cultists had been wrong. He was indeed touched by worldly magic. Would their patron have been angry at them for pushing him towards sacrifice?


    I glanced to the corner of my vision, where a timer was steadily counting down.


    [27:19]


    It had been at 30 when that ominous message first appeared, and it had been ticking away ever since, a rather constant reminder of the time I had left to live. Oddly enough, I didn''t feel particularly hungry, but there was a strange sense of hollowness inside me. It was as if something vital was missing, a void I couldn''t quite identify.


    It wasn''t the familiar gnawing of hunger. No, this was something more subtle, more fundamental, far more elusive.


    I stood before the wall, digging my claws into it. They pierced through remarkably, considering my diminutive size and featherweight. This gave me just the right hold to ascend. Perfect.


    It was now or never.


    "Stephan, hoist me into that hole in the wall?"


    "You''ve got a plan, then?"


    "Indeed I do. Assist me in tallying how many of them are lurking about. My vision''s rather compromised."


    "Oh damn, I just thought your eyes were rather ¡­peculiar."


    "No, I just have to squint to see properly."


    Naturally, I had a plan. If I couldn''t gallivant off in search of a morsel, why not coax the feast to me? Ingenious, heh! Stephan obligingly lifted me up. The wall was broad enough that the hole provided sufficient footing for me to stand. Peering through narrowed eyes, I spotted the critters scurrying about below. There weren''t many, but each one was about the size of a hefty Labrador, and I swear they''d outgrow me if we stood side by side. Their shapes were hard to make out, but Stephen had already told me they were something¡­ spider-like, skittering a bit too quick for comfort if one asked me.


    Stephan assisted in the headcount. One of the blighters was creeping around the nearest pile of rubble, while two more loitered just behind. Another five were milling about a bit farther off. His commentary hinted that they might be searching for something. Or was that what arachnids did? Sniffing about like they were on a treasure hunt? Who knew? But no matter¡ªI shot Stephan another squinty-eyed look.


    "Right, no daft questions, just grab me by my blooming tail and dangle me¡ª" But before I could finish my command, a sudden screen flashed before my eyes, startling me into shutting them tight. But oh, it was a screen I recognized.


    Lotte!


    Curiously enough, even with my eyes clamped shut, I could still see it.


    Notification!


    Message: One last note, Jade. If you haven''t yet, do take a moment to access your capabilities by summoning your [Status]. It reminds me of instructing a fledgling all over again, heh. However, heed this caution: under NO circumstances should you initiate an [Evolution] without first consulting me.


    As for your eyes, I recommend using the [Morphogen]; the [True Vision] of a Dragon Hatchling can be rather unsettling, especially in a place where the mana has become erratic.


    Lastly, with your initial [Skill Point], I would advise acquiring either a [Stealth] or [Flight] skill.


    I could''ve sworn I heard Stephan mutter something like a befuddled "What?" but honestly, my entire focus was glued to that glowing screen. I held up a claw to signal him to pipe down for a sec. Blimey, some of this was going straight over my head! Whispers of things from my dream world tickled the edges of my memory, but I couldn''t quite grasp them without more context.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Well, no sense in dilly-dallying. I decided to summon this... [Status], just as Lotte had suggested. Felt almost natural, really. Just had to think the word, and voil¨¤, another screen popped up right in front of Lotte''s message.


    Name: Jade


    Level: 1


    Species: Dragon Hatchling (I)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 15


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 12


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 30


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 17


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 0/0


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 14/14


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Claw Swipe: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Mutation: N/A


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 1


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 1


    </li>


    </ul>


    I didn''t have much time to even go through it all; it suddenly felt overwhelming. It was as if my very being had been reduced to mere numbers and statistics, each one laying bare my strengths, abilities, even my mana¡ªseeing that 0 stung.


    It almost echoed those memories from my dreams, this ''game-like'' sensation. But this wasn''t how games worked, was it? I might get another answer if I dug into this thought, but I had no time. My eyes immediately went to the Skills section.


    Skills, as the name rather unoriginally suggested, indicated what I could do. Some deep-seated instinct whispered that I should focus on these. And so, I did, gaze darting from one screen to the next as they popped up in rapid succession, each one offering descriptions of said skills.


    Overview


    Claw Swipe, Level 1 (I):


    Enhances the efficiency of executing a swift and forceful slash with claws. Optimized for close-quarters combat, delivering significant damage to adversaries. Ideal for rapid, decisive engagements.


    Tail Whip, Level 1 (I):


    Enables a powerful tail lash, effective for disrupting and inflicting damage across a wide area.


    Roar, Level 1 (I):


    Augments vocal output to produce a powerful roar, inducing fear in enemies. Temporarily reduces enemy capabilities.


    Scale Harden, Level 1 (I):


    Increases scale durability, enhancing defensive functions.


    Transformation, Level 1 (I):


    Allows the alteration of form between registered states.


    Current registered forms: Human, Dragon Hatchling.


    The descriptions were nothing if not vivid. Each skill seemed finely tuned for combat¡ªoffensive, defensive, even bordering on tactical, dare I say. My eyes went towards the exclusive skill in the end, Transformation.


    Oh, how a part of me longed to activate it straight away! But alas, in this quaint little dragon form, I''d be better equipped than in my usual human guise.


    Everything else would simply have to bide its time. Now that I had a better knowledge of my capabilities, my mind was fixated on a singular purpose: to vanquish one of these spindly spiders and make it my dinner.


    My eyes darted to the [Morphogens] and [Skill Points]. Priority number one was fixing my vision, and Lotte, clever as ever, had already suggested using [Morphogens] for just that. But how exactly.. to.. go about it?


    Another screen popped up.


    Select a mutation:


    Eyes +1: Improve visual processing and targeting accuracy.


    Wings +1: Reinforce wings to enhance flight performance.


    Legs +1: Augment leg power and maneuverability.


    Claws +1: Upgrade claws for increased lethality.


    Scales +1: Fortify scales for superior defensive capabilities.


    Fire Gland +1: Enhance fire gland for elevated internal mana input.


    Mutation, it declared. The options were far more plentiful than I''d anticipated. Despite that ominous threat of starvation looming, I couldn''t help but feel like a child in a mage''s emporium. So. Much. Choice!


    But really, what on earth was a fire gland? And, as if the system could read my very thoughts, another window popped up.


    Fire Gland: A gland that converts internal mana into fire mana.


    Welp, that was a right letdown. My mood plummeted like a rock off a cliff. Internal mana? I had none of the blasted stuff!


    With a sigh, I turned my focus to my eyes, ready to use a Morphogen as Lotte had wisely suggested. This time, a different window appeared:


    Would you like to use 1 point of [Morphogen] to mutate your eyes?


    Without a second thought, I accepted it. As tempting as it was to dabble in other options, the inability to see was driving me absolutely bonkers. But what I hadn''t fully grasped was that this upgrade fell under the delightful category of ''mutation.'' The moment I felt what seemed like thousands of needles stabbing behind my eyes, rearranging every last cell, I went into a full-on panic. I toppled right out of the little hole in the wall I''d been perched in, crashing to the ground below.


    I could hear Stephan''s frantic whispers, but I was too busy focusing on my own bloody eyes.


    STOOOOPPPP! THIS PAINNNNNN!!!


    The pain was unbearable¡ªlike a fiery need to claw my own eyes out just to make it stop. Blast it all! Damn it, damn it, damn it! Ahhhh, Lotte, you infernal daemon! A little heads up would have been smashing right about now!


    I had no idea how long it went on. Minutes? Hours? Well, I was still alive, so probably just minutes.


    22:07.


    A quick glance at the timer blinking in the corner showed I had 22 minutes left. I cautiously opened my eyes and¡­ Ohhh. I could finally see! The pesky colorful hues were still there, and rather vexing, but I could actually open my eyes fully! Just a tiny shift to a slightly unfocused state, and the irritation from the hues lessened considerably.


    "Are you all right?" Stephan murmured.


    I glanced at him, noticing the worry lines crinkling his face. "I''m fine¡ªjust had a bit of an issue with my eyes."


    He looked ready to ask more, but I cut him off before he could start. "No time for that! Follow through on my last plan. Hoist me up there again, sharpish."


    I knew I sounded a touch bossy, maybe even a tad rude, and I didn''t like it one bit. But with a bloody death timer ticking down over my head, I''d save the niceties for later¡ªif there even was a later. GAAAAHHH! Watching that thing count down was driving me absolutely barmy.


    Stephan hoisted me up once more. I wanted to spend a skill point too, but after that whole Morphogen fiasco, I wasn''t exactly chomping at the bit. I''ll save it for later.


    Then he went and grabbed my tail all wrong¡ªbarely holding on! "Are you trying to get me killed? Grip it tighter, for heaven''s sake!"


    "O-oh, right! Sorry!"


    "And remember, once I give the signal, pull me up with all your strength without a second''s hesitation. The window to act is going to be minuscule!"


    He still looked uncertain¡ªblimey, was I making a mistake in trusting him?

 Chapter 16: A Lovers Kiss

    With my blade like claws, I clung to the wall beneath me as Stephen dangled me from the hole above. Honestly, every time I use these little beauties, a voice in my head can''t help but chime in: "Blimey, those are sharp!" It''s as if I''ve got a set of hidden knives, ready to spring into action at any moment.


    Freaky, but oh, what fun!


    And so, the first phase of my cunning plan commenced! I started scratching at the wall with all the frantic energy of a feral cat. My eyes flicked around, catching sight of one of the nearby spider monsters noticing my desperate antics. Perfect.


    From its perspective, I probably looked like a trapped snack, all vulnerable and wriggly. What was going through its mind, I hadn''t the foggiest, but it certainly scuttled towards me with the eagerness of something expecting an easy meal.


    Now, I''d be lying if I said I wasn''t terrified. This was reckless, yes, but I was on a clock, and if I didn''t eat soon, well, curtains for me. So, might as well go all out ¡­.right? Right! I locked eyes with the beast as it drew closer, my claws still scratching wildly.


    Closer. Closer. NOW!


    The instant its ghastly face, with all eight eyes gleaming, was within reach, I struck. My claws sank into its hideous mug, and I opened my jaws as wide as they''d go before chomping down hard.


    The taste was vile, bitter juices flooding my mouth, and the brittle crunch of its exoskeleton felt through my claws was... well, delightful in a grotesque sort of way. My first bite claimed nearly three of its beady little eyes¡ªhardly enough to put it out of its misery, but just enough to send it into a proper tizzy, perhaps even drive the poor dear a bit mad. Perfect!


    It shrieked, loud and raw, the sort of sound that would make a banshee reconsider its career choices, and tried to yank itself free. But my claws were dug so deep into the sides of its head that it couldn''t escape without a bit of, well, self-decapitation. And it seemed just clever enough to avoid that unpleasantness. Good, I needed it nice and close.


    However, its wail did the trick, as I spotted its chums skittering towards me at a speed that would make even a cheetah blush. In no time, two of them were practically on top of me. That was my cue.


    "NOW!" I hollered at Stephen, and immediately, an intense force yanked at my tail. I was ready for it, of course, and as I looked the massive spider square in its many eyes, I casually yawned open my jaws and chomped down on its face.


    Stephen yanked me by my tail, hoisting me upwards before the rest of the spider posse could close in. The spider''s head remained firmly in my grip, and as Stephen dragged me back through the opening, the spider, just as expected, got stuck¡ªits plump abdomen too large to follow.


    Despite Stephen pulling with all his might and my claws being wedged deep in its noggin, the pesky thing wouldn''t quite part ways with its body. My tail slipped from Stephen''s grasp as we tumbled back into the room, but no matter¡ªI was still latched onto the spider''s enormous head.


    Though it was still very much alive, the poor beast found itself well and truly wedged in the hole, too bloomin'' bulky to squeeze through after us. Not that I could be bothered with it. My sharp little teeth were far too occupied making merry with the spider''s juicy cranium.


    The very instant I took that first nibble, I knew¡ªoh, this was no ordinary morsel. The taste was something out of this world, like a lunatic had thrown every spice known to man into a pot and set it ablaze. My taste buds were on FIRE, and OH DEAR LORD, I wanted more, MORE, MORE!


    The creature shrieked, even as most of its head had become a rather delightful mess in my gob, its spindly legs flailing about as if it still had some say in the matter. But letting go? Oh, not on your life! Dangling by my claws, I savored every last scrumptious morsel. Sinking my teeth into its still-screeching maw with all the fervor of a lover''s kiss. Ohhh, that taste! Absolutely divine! Heavenly!


    As I chewed, I could feel every nuance¡ªthe distinct crunch of its mandibles, those sharp little tools and their brittle texture. The bitter tang of its venom sacs, this a burst of fiery warmth that spread through my mouth like a spell of Flare! The juicy goodness of its salivary glands, the very essence of venom mingling with a strange, almost sickly sweetness. I could feel the hard structure of its pharynx crumbling under my teeth, followed by the soft, jelly-like squish of its¡­ brain¡ªAAAHHHH! So delicate! So rich! So buttery!


    The more I chewed, the more I discovered, each bite was a revelation. Something new, something more exquisite than the last. I hardly noticed when it stopped wriggling, nor the frantic shouts behind me, or the message flashing before my eyes. The more I ate, the more I craved.


    Someone dared to utter something¡ªcouldn''t quite catch it. Then there was a hand¡ªa hand!¡ªtrying to interfere. Not on my watch!


    "GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME, YOU FUCKING WANKER!" I snarled. My jaws snapped with such a fervour that would''ve torn flesh and bone alike. The hand recoiled, lucky for it, because I was in no mood for interruptions. This was my kill, my food, and no one, absolutely no one, was going to take it from me.


    Ah, but then, I refocused¡ªeverything else was piffle. The part I''d been dangling from my claws was now happily residing in my belly, heh, so I''d gone and stuck those claws to the wall. My serpentine neck was just the ticket for savoring every last bit of that spider. I was at the most important part after all, the juicy abdomen¡­


    ***


    I must confess, I haven''t the faintest idea when it all wrapped up.


    The assorted fragments of the spider''s crunchy carapace and its rather unappetizingly long legs were scattered all about me, like a buffet I couldn''t be bothered to finish. Hmm¡­ I plucked up one of those spindly skewers and gave it a thoughtful sniff¡ªcould I manage another bite? Perhaps, but no, I was quite satisfied for now.


    With a bit of a shrug, I tossed the leg aside and turned my gaze towards Stephan, who had positioned himself in the farthest, most distant corner he could find, as if the very air around me might bite.


    "Stephan¡­" I ventured, for the third time! Still nothing. I hadn''t a clue what on earth had happened, but he looked well and truly spooked¡ªand at me, no less! I mean, really, I just saved the chap''s life! And, in fairness, he did save mine by not abandoning me when I keeled over. But couldn''t he at least tell me what this sudden terror was all about?


    Ehhm, it probably wasn''t worth the headache, I turned my attention to the screen floating merrily before me.


    [You have slain a Level 3 Araneus impetuosa juvenilis.]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Skill point obtained: +1.]


    [Morphogen source assimilated.]


    [Morphogens acquired: +2.]


    Mission accomplished.


    [Reward: Survival Mission completion.]


    [Triple Morphogen and Experience boost from next kill - active for 2 hours.]


    Well, that was quite a haul! And more Morphogens to boot! I was just beginning to wonder where on earth I''d scrounge up another one after using the solitary one I had. I think I''ve got the gist now¡ªeat. Eat these monsters like there''s no tomorrow.


    Right, then! I had another skill point in my pocket, in addition to the one I''d neglected earlier. Lotte had nudged me to grab a Stealth or Flight skill, and now, I had the cheeky opportunity to nab both¡ªoh, the sheer giddiness of it all!


    My insides were practically doing a jig, bouncing about like a hyperactive bunny at the mere thought. Ecstatic, I was. Positively over the moon! Staring at that screen sent bursts of serotonin through me¡­ hmm? Hold on a tick¡ªserotonin? What on Earth was that again?


    I halted, rummaging through those hazy dream memories. Huh, something that made one feel chuffed? Well, bugger me sideways!


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    It wasn''t the first time a bizarre term had popped up from those dreamlands, and it certainly wouldn''t be the last. Best to crack on with what mattered¡ªthe screen! STATUS! I commanded in my head, all proper-like.


    Name: Jade


    Level: 2


    Species: Dragon Hatchling (I)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 15


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 12


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 30


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 17


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 0/0


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 9/14


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Claw Swipe: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes: +1


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 2


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 2


    </li>


    </ul>


    Hmm, not much had shifted. My level had risen, but my attributes were stubbornly unchanged. Mana was still sitting at a big, fat zero¡ªodd, that. I''d half-expected it to budge with the level-up, but no such luck. Still, if it was on the screen, surely there was some trick to increase it, right? I made a mental note to pester Lotte about that later.


    Then, my eyes wandered down to the resources section. Blimey, just the idea of learning skills by spending these [skill points] seemed bonkers, but that was the deal, wasn''t it? At least, that''s how I reckoned it worked.


    This time, I honed in on the [Resource] option, just like I''d done earlier with Morphogen.


    Immediately another window opened up.


    [Skill Points may be allocated to acquire new skills or enhance existing ones.]


    [Morphogens may be expended to mutate physical attributes.]


    [Skills available for acquisition:


    Stealth: Requires 1 SP. Optimizes concealment capabilities and evasion efficiency.


    Quick Dash: Requires 1 SP. Increases velocity over brief intervals at the expense of Stamina.


    Crush Claw: Requires 1 SP. Augments claw precision and impact force.


    Crunch: Requires 1 SP. Passive enhancement that increases bite penetration and retention.]


    Select a mutation:


    Eyes +2: Improve visual processing and targeting accuracy.


    Wings +1: Reinforce wings to enhance flight performance.


    Legs +1: Augment leg power and maneuverability.


    Claws +1: Upgrade claws for increased lethality.


    Scales +1: Fortify scales for superior defensive capabilities.


    Fire Gland +1: Enhance fire gland for elevated internal mana input.


    So. Many. Options!!


    But unlike last time, both sets of choices were staring me in the face at once.


    I didn''t have the luxury to give them a proper gander earlier, but now? Oh, I had all the time in the world. Maybe.


    Full belly, no gnawing emptiness, and, thank heavens, no death timer ticking away. Ah, sweet, sweet peace. If only dear Stephan would spill the beans on what rattled his cage so much.


    Memory was a bit foggy, to be honest. One moment, he''s yanking me up, and the next, I''m chowing down on that spider¡ªthen, well, things got a bit fuzzy. I did recall plopping down in a daze until everything started to click again.


    Hmm... I''d just have to corner him for a little chat later.


    But for now, ehehe, I let myself sink my claws into a couple of those delightful skills. These were augmentations to my own body, as bonkers as it sounded, and yet there they were, right in front of me.


    I''d just tasted the power of my claws a moment ago¡ªoh, the thrill!


    Going through the options, one caught my eye immediately¡ªStealth. A no-brainer, really; even Lotte had given it her seal of approval. I didn''t know where exactly I had landed¡ªwhat lay outside this cultists'' hideaway? Wilderness, perhaps? Monsters must be lurking about, no doubt.


    If I wanted to slink off to safety, wherever that might have been¡ªnever mind trying to get home, I had already botched that plan for now¡ªstealth was the ticket. It would have kept me out of unnecessary scraps and let me skulk around unseen. Survival, after all, was the name of the game!


    Now, Quick Dash, eh? This one promised a sudden burst of speed over short distances, though it would sap my stamina quicker than one could say "knackered." Maybe. Probably.


    Quite handy for a hasty retreat or maybe a surprise lunge, should the opportunity knocked, but I couldn''t help but wonder¡ªwhat if it left me gasping like a fish out of water at the worst possible moment? I had this visible tally of 14 stamina points hovering over my head, and without knowing how many of those it would gobble up, well, it felt like a risky gamble!


    Speed was all well and good, sure, but what''s the use if I was winded after a quick sprint? Still, the idea of darting about in the wilderness was rather tempting, especially when it came to covering ground or outmaneuvering some bothersome beastie.


    Ah, but Crush Claw¡ªohohoho¡ªnow that was more my cup of tea! I''d already had a nibble of what my claws could do. I stared at them¡ªsharp as a butcher''s cleaver and just as strong.


    I still remembered that spider monster; it was two levels above me, and yet, the moment I sank these beauties through its noggin, it was curtains for the poor sod.


    And this skill would have taken things up a notch, enhancing precision and impact force¡ªdelightfully vivid!


    It was like sharpening a blade that was already lethal. Every swipe, every strike would have landed with even more oomph. I could practically feel the thrill of sinking these claws into something¡ªor, heavens forbid, someone. Ehehehehe. No, no, bad Jade! Not someone, just the monsters! One ought not to have gotten too cozy with this whole monster business!


    And then, there was Crunch¡ªa passive that would turn my bite into something truly fearsome, upping the penetration and making it near impossible for anything to wriggle free once I''d latched on.


    Not that my bite wasn''t already lethal¡ªI clacked my teeth together with a satisfying snap, hehehe, and did it again for good measure.


    I could have sworn I had seen Stephan shivering every time I did that, but then again, my eyesight had still been a bit dodgy, so who knew? Might have been my imagination. Probably.


    Crunch might not have had the flash of the others, but there was something about the idea of a more devastating bite that resonated with me, with this new self I was growing into.


    I mulled it over before deciding. Only two out of the four¡ªthat''s all I could pick.


    Stealth was a given¡ªmy ticket to staying out of unwanted scraps and surviving in this strange, uncertain place. But what to pair it with?


    Quick Dash promised speed, but that stamina drain made me hesitate. Crush Claw would have made me deadlier in close combat, but I had a similar skill already, Claw Swipe. Then there was Crunch, which would turn my bite into an even deadlier weapon.


    Hmm¡­


    Strategic thinking was key here. If I paired Stealth with Crush Claw, I could become a silent assassin, striking from the shadows with a precision quite lethal. Or, Stealth with Crunch, turning into a sneaky beastie capable of targeting an enemy''s weak spots with a devastating bite.


    In the end, the choice became clear. Stealth was my first pick, as planned. And for the second¡­ Crunch. It was simply too perfect to pass up¡ªa passive boost to my bite, and I was lacking a proper biting skill anyway. Plus, I had already had Claw Swipe to help with my claws.


    Yes, this was perfect. And with more skill points to be earned, I could unlock the others later on.


    Decision made, I confirmed the choices.

 Chapter 17: Functional Peepers

    Ah, it seemed I had a bit of a blunder¡ªjust a teensy one¡ªconveniently forgetting the rather unsavoury business that erupted the last time I used Morphogens.


    Thus what followed was a wave of panic, and I promptly screwed my eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable agony I was absolutely convinced would make an unwelcome return.


    Except... it didn''t. Not in the slightest. Instead, a peculiar, icy tickle tiptoed its way into my brain¡ªonly for a moment¡ªand then, just like that, I knew.


    This frosty flood kept flowing in, carrying with it a torrent of new insights and knowledge, as if some library hidden in my mind had finally flung open its doors.


    For a good while, I just stood there, utterly dazed, until a small voice inside me¡ªno, hang on, it wasn''t just a part of me, it was me¡ªgently whispered that my stance simply wouldn''t do.


    So, I obeyed this curious sensation, just felt right to do so. My body, as bizarre as it sounds, began adjusting on its own, like some deep seated wisdom was instructing my muscles in the fine art of noise minimisation.


    Stealth wasn''t just magical in nature; it wasn''t merely about vanishing into the shadows. No, this new knowledge corrected me, straightening out my misconceptions. It was only half the story¡ª the other half was perfecting every tiny movement.


    I glanced at my claws, and they felt, well, wrong. So, I directed this knowledge through them, and before I knew it, I was curving them ever so slightly. I moved, just a bit, and the sound I''d never even noticed before softened with each step. It was perfect, this little adjustment, this impeccable angle.


    And I wasn''t done yet. I altered the tilt of my clawed toes, spreading my weight just so, and then I moved in a circle once more. Hah! Taking a deep breath, I exhaled, only to feel my eyes widen in surprise. My breathing¡ªit had changed, transformed into something so shallow, so controlled. I tried again, and I could''ve sworn it barely stirred the air around me.


    Stephan was still lingering in the corner, his presence more felt than seen¡ªthough I think his head might have been cocked in my direction. Couldn''t quite tell where his eyes were, what with having to keep mine in this annoyingly unfocused state. Really ought to sort out these peepers of mine.


    But hooray! I''ve got enough Morphogen to do just that!


    First, though, a little experiment. If Stealth brought me all that nifty know-how, what about Crunch?


    I zeroed in on my jaws, and instantly, something shifted. The memory of sinking my teeth into that spider now felt all wrong¡ªlike I''d missed the mark. I could have adjusted my bite, angled it just so, maximised the force with barely any extra effort. And it wasn''t just my jaws¡ªmy whole posture seemed to realign itself, spine straightening until it felt just right. The way to close my jaws became instinctively clear, as if I''d always known how to do it.


    Every little tweak, every movement, felt eerily natural. It was exhilarating, and frankly, a bit terrifying, how mere knowledge could wield such power. But then again, it wasn''t just knowledge, was it? I didn''t fully grasp what was happening to me, but spending this... currency, these skill points, to gain mastery that would take anyone else years¡ªit was odd, yes. Odd and exhilarating, all at once.


    If I had to put a label on my current state of mind, it would be satisfaction. Maybe a bit of happiness. And something else I couldn''t quite name. But confusion? Fear? Not a trace of either.


    With a slow breath, I shook my serpentine neck. I''d mull over my mental state later. For now, time to upgrade these blasted eyes.


    That first experience was nothing short of horrifying¡ªusing Morphogen left me a bit, well, traumatised, to say the least. But the worst bit? I''d have to go through it all over again. Oh, dear heavens, please, let it be like last time¡ªno pain, just that delightful, chilly rush of aha, so that''s how one uses their eyes knowledge.


    [Would you like to use 2 Morphogens to mutate your eyes?]


    Intriguing. So, it takes two Morphogens to go from +1 to +2. I wonder, does that mean it''ll require three for +3? Perhaps. For now, I just nodded along, mentally crossing my fingers that it would be as painless as before, with that lovely, icy tingle that came with spending those skill points.


    ¡­


    Errr¡ª


    AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!


    Once more, I collapsed, writhing about like a fish out of water, as whatever the devilish thing was, decided to rearrange my eyes with what felt like thousands of tiny needles.


    NONONONONONONO!


    I wouldn''t say the pain was worse than last time, but bloody hell, it certainly felt like it!


    STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP!


    This time, I dug my claws into the ground because I couldn''t trust myself not to gouge out my own eyes to stop the agony. So, I held on. And then, as quickly as it had come, it vanished¡ªpoof! Gone, as if it had never existed. Well, perhaps a lingering phantom pain, but after it had done its job, it was like it had never been there at all.


    Weird.


    But anyway! My peepers¡ªthey were on the mend! I could fling them open without a second thought, and no longer did I have to squint like a mole at high noon. The blinding colours were still there, but as Lotte mentioned, I had this [True Vision] of a dragon hatching. What it all meant, I hadn''t the foggiest, but these maddening hues that danced outside the range of my human sight¡ªor even Stephan''s¡ªsurely they were connected, no?


    Perhaps. It still stung like the devil looking at them, but at least now I could make out what they were. It was as if a Specter had lit a firecracker in its nether regions and was gleefully setting off bursts of random colours. The colours kept shifting, much like said firecracker¡ªconstantly, relentlessly. My eyes couldn''t take the strain, so I shut them again. Still couldn''t keep my gaze fixed on them for long.


    But at least now, I had moments¡ªglorious, fleeting moments¡ªof crystal-clear clarity before the hues became unbearable, forcing my eyelids to snap shut again. FINALLY!! I could properly assess my surroundings. Stephan had mentioned the chamber was dark, but for me, it was quite the opposite from the start. These hues illuminated everything within my field of vision.


    Huh¡­


    I knew something was amiss when Stephan pointed out the hole in the wall. It all made sense¡ªthe space beyond was hollow, not a part of the original structure. The far wall, maybe four metres away, and the hole we''d entered from¡ªthe cultists'' lair¡ªseemed rough, like a natural cavern formation.


    If I were to hazard a guess, I''d say the cave formation didn''t quite align with their plans for a tunnel, so they just walled off this hollow section. The space narrowed on both sides until it reached an end, confirming my suspicions.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    I closed my eyes once more, giving them a well-deserved rest before returning to the unfocused state, and made my way towards Stephan. Oh, if he wasn''t forthcoming with an explanation, I''d get it out of him, one way or another!


    ****


    "You had a go at biting me, you did!"


    Hoh!


    "I didn''t know what was happening! The moment you sunk your teeth into that screeching beast, you looked utterly lost. It was still making such a racket, and I¡ªI thought something was horribly wrong when you chomped down on its still-screaming maw."


    HOH!


    "I was, erm, ravenous, I suppose."


    "Ravenous? Right, well, I thought I''d ask if something was amiss¡ªbad idea, that was. If I hadn''t stepped back quick enough, I''d be missing a hand, I swear it!"


    "¡­"


    "And, you know, you called me a wanker."


    "¡­"


    I turned to face him, gradually letting the focus return to my eyes. The hues made his face glow like a stained glass window¡ªblue, red, and a touch of green.


    His emerald eyes weren''t quite meeting mine, flickering about like a candle in a draft, and his hands had a slight tremor to them. Only now did I spot the small, bloody gash where his grey tunic was torn around his torso. The blood had dried, so it must''ve happened a while ago¡ªperhaps when he was fending off those creatures, or maybe the wall itself took a swipe at him.


    "It-it wasn''t from you." He must have noticed my gaze.


    I''d already figured as much, seeing as the wound was hours old.


    I shut my eyes again. Yeahhhh¡­ I didn''t remember any of that. Biting him? It sounded utterly ridiculous! But then again, he didn''t seem to be fibbing. And to be fair, I was in a bit of a daze. My memories were as murky as a bog¡­ Oh, bloody hell, now I was properly spooked. What in the world happened to me that I''d try to bite him, of all people?


    I didn''t like it! Not one bit!


    Damn it! I added another question to the ever-growing list for Lotte. What else could I do? I couldn''t remember a thing, let alone figure out how to fix it.


    I summoned my stat screen. It was about time, wasn''t it? There was one thing I hadn''t tried yet, and it seemed high time to give it a go. The fact that I couldn''t remember trying to bite my own companion had my paranoia cranked up to eleven.


    Name: Jade


    Level: 2


    Species: Dragon Hatchling (I)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 15


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 12


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 30


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 17


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 0/0


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 11/14


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Claw Swipe: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Stealth: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crunch: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes: +2


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 0


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 0


    </li>


    </ul>


    I zoomed straight to my Transformation skill. This one was a bit special, tucked away in the [Exclusive Skill] section, all fancy-like.


    Closing my eyes, I braced myself. After all, every time I''d used Morphogen to tinker with my body, the pain was enough to make anyone twitchy. With a mental click, I activated it.


    Eeep! Any moment now!


    ...


    ...


    ...


    "You look like you''re constipated."


    Nothing happened. I ignored Stephan''s quip, though a part of me was glad he was finally cracking jokes and engaging with me again. But seriously, why didn''t it activate? Wasn''t this supposed to revert me to human form, just as the description said?


    I eyed the screen, ready to pull up the skill''s description again, when my gaze snagged on a glaring red exclamation mark right in front of Transformation.


    What the hell?


    I zeroed in on it, and another screen popped up.


    [Not Enough Mana]


    Huh?


    HUH? I needed mana to activate it? But I didn''t have a drop to my name! If I''d turned into this form without mana, shouldn''t I be able to revert just as easily?


    Making sense, heh, as if turning into a monster ever made sense to begin with.


    My thoughts were now leaning a touch more towards the sensible side. I mean, sure, I could wallow in self-pity till the cows came home, but really, what good would that do me? Especially now that I could see these mana points staring back at me from my stat screen. They were at a big, fat zero, yes, but I knew they''d grow! So, naturally, my mind wandered to more pressing matters¡ªlike just how many of these mana points would it take for me to turn back into a human?


    Oh, and there was another timer ticking away on my stat screen. How did I miss that? Ah yes, the reward I''d snagged earlier.


    1:35:09


    Steadily dwindling away, it was.


    Now, I couldn''t say I felt particularly safe at the moment. Would those wretched spiders ever leave? Or were they planning to set up camp indefinitely?


    There was still some time before Barn would awaken from his slumber, but sitting here in this tiny, claustrophobic hole was making my scales crawl. Quite literally, in fact. I felt trapped, boxed in.


    Now that I had this stealth ability, wouldn''t it be jolly clever to pop out for a quick reconnaissance? Just a little peek to ensure the coast was clear, get a better grip on the situation, and maybe, just maybe, snag another solitary spider beastie to cash in on that reward!


    I relayed my grand plan to Stephan.


    "Are you sure you''d be alright?"


    Was I sure? Ha! Not a chance. Who in their right mind would be? But I couldn''t stand another minute in this stifling enclosure, with the threat of something nastier sniffing us out and leaving us with nowhere to run. So, with a bravado that was probably more bravado than sense, I nodded.


    "Don''t you worry! I know precisely how to be stealthy!"


    And so, the little ritual began anew. Stephan hoisted me up once more, though I could have easily managed with my claws. But where was the fun in that? Plus, it was rather satisfying to have him do the lifting and contribute somewhat¡ªcertainly not because I enjoyed bossing him about. Not at all!


    But the moment I poked my head through the hole, my eyes widened in sheer terror.

 Chapter 18: Into The Dreaded Tunnel

    The tunnel was just as it always was¡ªsame old rubble scattered about, same spider beasties scuttling around, sniffing like a pack of overly enthusiastic hounds. But the roof? Yeahhhh, that was a different tale altogether.


    It was unnervingly still, so much so that one could easily overlook it, as did the spider creatures, utterly oblivious to its presence. It was camouflaged to perfection, blending seamlessly with its surroundings. If not for those bright, shifting hues, I reckon I might not have noticed it at all.


    And the size of the thing¡ªmassive, it was, sprawled across the tunnel roof with limbs stretching out a good metre each, ending in razor-sharp claws that dug into the ceiling, anchoring it in place. Its body was elongated, segmented like an insect''s carapace, coloured a dull, mottled grey that seemed to shimmer when those hues caught the light just so. Each segment of its body undulated in slow, deliberate waves, moving with an eerie grace as it inched forward, creeping ever closer to a group of spider monsters below.


    But what truly sent a shiver down my spine was its head. No eyes, just a massive, gaping maw, with a serrated tongue lolling out. And those deep lines running down its mouth? Clear as day, that maw could stretch even wider¡ªa rather unsettling thought, that.


    As it slinked along the roof, its limbs moved in perfect harmony, each claw lifting and placing itself down with an almost inaudible click. I doubted it was making any sound at all. Just watching it, I could tell it had some sort of stealth ability, not too dissimilar to my own.


    Finally, it was right above the group of spiders. So, when its serrated tongue lashed out and skewered a spider monster right through its head, I nearly didn''t believe my own eyes. It was so fast, so silent that the two spiders sniffing mere inches ahead didn''t even flinch. Its tongue kept rolling out endlessly, slowly wrapping around the spider like a gift, lifting it up as if it weighed nothing.


    As expected, its maw stretched even wider as it swallowed the spider whole, then began inching towards the remaining two.


    "What''s the matter?"


    OH, BLOODY HELL!


    Its head turned towards us!


    I ducked my serpentine neck back into the hole and clamped Stephan''s mouth shut with my claws.


    I widened my eyes and furiously shook my head, gritting my teeth. Please, for the love of all things sensible, take the hint!


    He didn''t struggle, just looked confused for a moment. But when he saw me shaking my head like a maniac, something must have clicked because his eyes widened too. So there we were, frozen in place, not daring to move an inch. I wanted to at least sneak a peek outside, but the way that thing had turned its head towards us had me metaphorically wetting myself.


    So much for keeping the big bad from noticing us.


    Half the blame was mine for not ducking sooner, and the other half for not finding a way to get Stephan to keep his gob shut.


    GAAAAAHHHH! This was bad¡ªreally, really bad. If it decided to have a sniff around here, we were done for. I didn''t even see how fast its lightning-quick tongue lashed out! We were completely outmatched!


    So, I waited. A minute? Two? Maybe even three? I had no idea, but keeping my head down and staying frozen in that position was anything but easy. I could see the fear in Stephan''s expression, and his legs were trembling from holding me like that for what felt like an eternity. Uncomfortable wasn''t the half of it.


    [Stealth has reached Level 2.]


    A LEVEL UP?!? Already? Sweeet!


    Oh, but there was no time to be chuffed about it! Focus, Jade! I needed to see where that thing was!


    Right then, I braced myself and cautiously stretched my serpentine neck, just enough to sneak one eye through the very bottom of the hole. The blasted thing was still up on the ceiling, but the population of spider monsters was dwindling faster than one could say ''Bob''s your uncle!'' Oh, bugger, it was gobbling them up, one after the other!


    And the worst part was¡ªnone of those poor buggers had a single clue they were being slowly devoured by an active predator. I wouldn''t have noticed it either, to be honest, if it weren''t for those irritating hues lighting up the gloom.


    They were a right nuisance¡ªdownright painful, even¡ªbut, grudgingly, I found myself grateful for them. With each mutation, my eyesight was getting sharper, and in the long run, that would undoubtedly prove to be my greatest asset.


    I watched, uncomfortably, as it munched its way through the spider buffet. Relentless, quick, stealthy¡ªoh, how I was hoping it might leave just one behind for me. Just one! A nibble would be enough for that extra boost¡ªsweet, sweet triple experience and those precious Morphogens.


    Oh, for the love of tea and biscuits, just one!


    But no, I had the misfortune of witnessing the entire colony of spider monsters in the tunnel being devoured, one by one, by the beast on the roof. Then, just like that, it slithered out of sight, perhaps off to hunt more, because I swear, that thing looked anything but satisfied!


    Where in the name of all that''s holy was it storing all that? Even though it was larger than a spider monster, it wasn''t that large to wolf down an entire colony!


    There had been over fifteen spider monsters in the tunnel, all within my view. Now, it was completely deserted. Not a single eight-legged critter left.


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    I was suddenly having second thoughts about venturing out there. A shiver ran down my spine, and I glanced at poor Stephan, trying to keep myself steady. I pushed my neck out a bit further and took another look down the tunnel. We were at a bend, so my field of vision was rather limited, but I could confirm¡ªno sign of that thing, nor a single spider monster in sight.


    Damn.


    I took a deep breath and hauled myself into the hole. Stephan let out a sigh of relief and shot me a look, his hands curving into a ''what on earth just happened?'' gesture. I could speak now, I reckon. But my paranoia had other ideas, so I kept my lips clamped shut until I took another cautious peek outside. Phew, still nothing.


    "Bigger, nastier monster," I finally muttered.


    That did the trick¡ªhis face went whiter than a sheet. I motioned for him to have a gander outside, but all I got in return was pure, unadulterated confusion.


    "What happened here? Where''ve all those spider monstrosities gone?"


    "As I expected, you didn''t hear a thing. That bloody beast was having them for breakfast, one by one."


    "That thing¡ªyou mean the nastier monster you mentioned?"


    "Yes, that''s the one."


    "So, what do we do now?" He was starting to panic, poor sod.


    "Well, we could either sit on our arses, or head out there and find out what the bloody hell''s going on! Also, we need to figure out where in the world we are." Oh, that reminded me¡ª"Wait, you were dragged here through that portal too?"


    Stephan shook his head. "I¡­ don''t know. I was blindfolded and handcuffed the entire time. No clue, honestly."


    Blast. "It feels weird when you go through the portal¡ªthis strange nausea, like someone''s taken your insides and given them a good twist. Do you remember anything like that?" I asked, grasping at straws to make some sense of it all.


    Stephan narrowed his eyes, "Nothing like that¡­ at least not that I can recall."


    "Seems like you didn''t pop out of the portal, then. In that case, your¡ª" I cut myself off mid-sentence, the words sticking in my throat. I almost said, "your home might be closer," but the memory of his screams as those cultists dragged him in, after they had slaughtered his entire family, stopped me dead.


    "¡ªvillage might be closer," I finally managed, though I wasn''t sure if that was much better. He didn''t seem to take offense, though, just drifted off into his thoughts.


    Perhaps I could steer him in the right direction. "Focus on something specific. What''s the nearest place to your village that''s crawling with monsters? Somewhere that the cultists could''ve easily dragged you to in the time it took. Preferably underground."


    That seemed to strike a chord. His eyes widened in sudden realization.


    "The Labyrinth! Oh, god, of course! We''re in a bloody labyrinth!"


    Wait, what? "What the devil is a Labyrinth?"


    He shot me a look like I''d just asked whether water was wet. Surely it just meant a maze? What did that have to do with all these monsters?


    "The place where monsters spawn?"


    "You mean a Dungeon?"


    "Yeah, it''s called that too, but most of us in the sect refer to it as a Labyrinth."


    Well, blow me down. I''d never heard anyone call it a labyrinth in all my days. Just how far from home was I, exactly? I didn''t want to dwell on it, but I held onto the hope that I wasn''t too far since Stephan spoke the same language, albeit with a bit of an accent¡ªa kind of clipped edge to his words, almost like he was rolling them around in his mouth before spitting them out. But I chalked that up to him being Beastkin.


    But this wasn''t the time for a good old-fashioned brood, now was it? I knew full well I was stuck in some infernal dungeon, and to be honest, I didn''t have the foggiest clue about how these blasted places worked. The only bit of knowledge I had came from Jord, who''d generously provided me with the barest scraps of information.


    Every monster we encounter aboveground? They''re all spawned from deep within the earth''s very bowels, in these vile, cancerous pits known as Dungeons. The deeper you venture, the nastier the creatures get. I never gave it much thought because, umm, dungeon delving always struck me as absolute codswallop.


    Besides, there wasn''t a dungeon anywhere near Randall, so the monster population was always somewhat manageable.


    Now, my brain was frantically trying to cobble together the scant knowledge I had about Dungeons, and I would just say it, there wasn''t much to work with. I sighed, glancing over at Stephan.


    "Well, it doesn''t change a thing. We still need to check our surroundings¡ªunless you''re secretly a dungeon delver and know your way around this mess?"


    He shook his head. Well, that settled that.


    I craned my neck for a quick peek. Still no sign of any monsters. Couldn''t decide if that was a stroke of luck or just the ominous calm before the storm.


    "Wish me luck, then. Before something nasty finds us and turns us into sitting ducks, let me see if there''s even the slightest chance we can make a run for it."


    He looked like he was about to say something, raising his hand, but then he bit his lip and lowered it.


    "Be safe." That was all he managed, and frankly, I wasn''t in the mood to ponder whatever else might have been on his mind.


    Taking a deep breath, I leapt into the dreaded tunnel.

 Chapter 19: Progress

    The tunnel was as quiet as a church mouse, at least for the moment. I had two choices: one, to toddle back to the earlier ritual site. There had been so many people there¡ªwell, not anymore, what with them all ending up as Barn''s midday snack.


    Still, I was keen to see if they''d left any, er, loot behind. That dodgy bloke who kidnapped me, I was absolutely certain he had a ring with a spatial enchantment.


    These lot were filthy rich! But, the trouble was, the monster from earlier had trotted off in that direction, and I didn''t fancy discovering another exit from there, especially since the only way out seemed to be those portals, which were, quite inconveniently, on the fritz.


    That reminded me¡ªthere were more of those masked warriors lurking about, the ones who hadn''t legged it through the portal. What if one of them was still alive, skulking about in some corner? The thought made me shiver.


    I sincerely hoped not.


    And, besides, that place was likely crawling with monsters! No sense in venturing back there. So, I opted for the opposite direction. If this was indeed a dungeon, first order of business was to figure out how deep down we were and what sort of place it was. And, of course, whether there was any hope of escaping it.


    But just as I tried to shift from my spot, my eyes widened in surprise. There was a sticky sensation under my paws. I lifted one and inspected it¡ªmy claws were covered in white, with these little web-like threads sticking to them.


    "Huh?"


    "Oh! OH!"


    Well, that explained why those spider monsters were sniffing about earlier. But what was this rubbish? It wasn''t nearly strong enough to catch a proper monster, so maybe they were just marking their territory? Honestly, I hadn''t the faintest idea. And, quite frankly, I didn''t think those spiders would be too keen on enlightening me.


    Ah, blast it, got distracted again!


    Focus, Jade, focus. Now, I couldn''t spot any monsters in my line of sight, but I was being exceedingly, thoroughly cautious! Stealth was guiding my every step, placing each foot ever so delicately to make the faintest whisper of a sound. Progress was, well, moderate at best. But I knew that by actively applying this newfound knowledge, I''d soon be upgrading these skills, just as that earlier level-up notification had hinted. Avoiding detection by that roof-dwelling creature was a breeze, and voil¨¤, an easy level up!


    The white, web-like stuff was still giving me the absolute creeps, but I pressed on! Hurrah, hurrah! It was I, Jade, on a little hunt! For the escape route, naturally!


    Those strange hues were still flickering in my vision¡ªpeculiar as always. I could finally see the end of the tunnel now, with the hues far ahead shining rather brightly.


    Yet curiously, the ones surrounding me here in the tunnel were growing dimmer by the moment. I hadn''t the faintest idea what they signified, but the dimness was rather unmistakable, casting this sense of gloom all around, setting this stark contrast to the vibrancy from before.


    I was pausing every now and then, focusing my eyes to gather better information about the tunnel¡ªanything lurking in a particular spot¡ªbefore letting my vision slip back into that unfocused state. But here, in this murky gloom, it was quite easy on the eyes, so I could maintain my focus indefinitely.


    It wasn''t until I nearly reached the tunnel''s end that I saw those vibrant hues slowly converging on a specific spot.


    Huh.


    Uhoh.


    Quick as a tick, I ducked behind a pile of debris, opting to stealthily suss out whatever on Earth was happening.


    Something was, that much I knew. Even my vision was going all wonky around it!


    The colors were getting all concentrated, tightening up until they practically felt solid, like someone was squeezing the very air out of the hues!


    With each passing moment, it burned my eyes more and more, until I had to shut them tight, just for a tick to escape the pain. When I dared to peek again, the swirling colors had vanished! Back to their usual selves, no longer all gloomy and ominous.


    But, surprise of surprises, that wasn''t even the half of it. I focused my eyes on the spot where those hues had been congregating, and yeahhhhhh, ofcourse¡­ There was something. A right massive turtle, if you please. It had a shell festooned with pitch-black spikes that gleamed menacingly when those odd hues lit them up. Looked proper deadly, they did.


    I crouched down, and I''ll just say it, what was running through my mind wasn''t the sheer absurdity of this creature just materializing out of thin air. No, no, this mind of mine was more interested in the triple experience and Morphogen reward it seemed to be offering.


    Hehe. No, it wasn''t funny.


    But first things first¡ªobservations were in order. I had no idea what to expect from this massive dog sized turtle, or what sort of abilities it might have up its proverbial sleeve, so I slinked closer, all sneaky-like.


    One would think something that had just popped into existence would be a tad oblivious, but no¡ªthis one was anything but. It had claws, too, and was already digging into the dirt with them, albeit rather slowly and clumsily. First note to self: beware those claws, blimey, they were sharp, though not quite as sharp as mine¡ªmade me feel a bit chuffed, I must say.


    So, I crept even closer, not making a peep thanks to Stealth, keeping to the shadows as I circled it. The place was littered with enough debris and rocks to make it a doddle. How long I kept it up, I''ve no idea, but I was banking on it showing more of its tricks before I made my move.


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    [Stealth has reached Level 3.]


    Ah, no such luck! The blasted creature was still at it, digging away, and by now it had fashioned quite the impressive crater around itself. I did notice, though, that it was becoming far less clumsy in its efforts.


    Could it be that it, too, had a digging skill that levelled up? Quite possibly.


    But at least my Stealth skill got a level up! Hurrah!


    Time was of the essence, so I had to act swiftly. Abandoning my careful circling, I made a beeline for the turtle, which was still preoccupied with its excavation. I let my focus sharpen, like an eagle, a vulture... no, a damned tiger! All I needed was to time the perfect moment to strike.


    Then, in a flash, I coiled my hind legs and sprang into action. Its shell was tough, those spikes even tougher, but its head was still exposed. With a swift motion, I raised my front claw, letting the knowledge from Claw Swipe guide me, and slashed at its neck before quickly leaping back!


    The turtle let out a pained screech, its beady eyes darting about in search of its assailant. But I was quicker, already climbing a pile of debris. My Stealth may have been compromised, as it locked eyes on me, burning with what I assumed was anger¡ªthough who could say for sure?


    Its jaws snapped open menacingly, and something told me I wouldn''t fancy being caught in that grip. But it didn''t give chase as I bounded around. It simply couldn''t; its spiked shell looked too heavy to allow for any real mobility! HAHAHAHAHA!


    Even so, it tilted its head and snapped its jaws with such force that it practically shredded the air itself. The spikes on its shell quivered, standing tall as it attempted to look more menacing.


    But, oh well, it was dreadfully outmatched! This battlefield was entirely unsuitable for it! Piles of debris scattered everywhere, and it would never scramble over them quickly enough. Meanwhile, I had these rather remarkable skills that let me zip in and out like a breeze. The victor would be the one left standing, and that was going to be me! I knew exactly what I was doing!


    My limbs were still trembling ever so slightly. Damn it! I was utterly terrified. Perhaps this entire pep talk was just to convince myself of my own prowess. But damn it all, I was scared with a capital S!


    My first battle had been driven by sheer desperation to survive. I had the upper hand there, not to mention Stephan''s assistance, but here, in this fight I''d chosen against an unknown adversary, my confidence was wobbly at best.


    This was my first true battle. My very first¡­ hunt.


    And by Jove, I was going to finish it.


    Focus!


    The turtle monster was already bleeding from its neck, but that wouldn''t be enough. This creature was as tough as old boots. So, we carried on with this awkward dance, me dashing about the debris piles, and the turtle stubbornly tracking me, snapping its jaws my way. But its head just wasn''t quick enough to match my nimbleness!


    A chance!


    It was just a smidge too slow in swivelling that noggin of its. I darted forward, jaws wide, and snap! Crunch guided me as my teeth clamped down on its still-turning head. It let out the most pitiful growl as I bit down harder, sinking my fangs in even deeper.


    With a flick of my claws, I dug them into the sides of its skull, locking it in place. Then, with a swift roll and flip, I toppled us both over. Poor thing must''ve been in so much agony that it didn''t even resist the tumble. And the moment it flipped, it was all over. It wriggled its clawed feet pathetically, dirt still clinging to them, wailing in the throes of pain from the wounds I''d inflicted. But it couldn''t move anymore¡ªcouldn''t claw, couldn''t even thrash its head about.


    I... well, I paused, just for a moment. My heart gave a little pang at the sight. It was a monster, born from this wretched dungeon, but seeing it fight so desperately for its life¡­ something about it tugged at my heartstrings.


    ...NO!


    I shook my head¡ªno time for that sentimental nonsense. I had to finish the job before another beast decided to drop in uninvited. So, I readied my claws, and slash! Slash! Slash!


    [Claw Swipe has reached level 2]


    Huh, that was quick. Perhaps skills do level up faster with another monster in the mix. But why wasn''t it dying?! I was trying to end its misery, but the blasted thing''s hide was so tough it took three Claw Swipes just to break through!


    But finally, it was done. I brought my jaws closer and clamped down on the wound, tightening my grip, enhancing it with Crunch, and tore open its entire neck, putting an end to its suffering.


    [You have slain a Level 1 Testudo aculeata juvenilis.]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    [Additional Experience Points acquired.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Skill point obtained: +1.]


    But alas, even then it wasn''t quite finished. To properly tear open more of its body and finish my¡­ business, I''d need to use Crunch. Multiple times.


    So, I got to work.


    [Crunch has reached level 2]


    Taking a life felt rather rotten. But seeing all this progress¡­ was it worth it?


    ABSOLUTELY!

 Chapter 20: The Real Dungeon

    [Morphogen source assimilated.]


    [Morphogens acquired: +2.]


    [Extra Morphogens acquired: +4.]


    Six Morphogens from one turtle, eh? Quite the haul! I reckoned that extra bit was courtesy of that survival mission reward.


    Odd, though¡ªtriple experience didn''t seem nearly as generous as these Morphogens. Perhaps it''s because the turtle was a level beneath me, which would explain the scanty experience. Still, the whole business was a bit of a head-scratcher¡­ The idea of gobbling up these beasts and then using the spoils to bolster my own body¡ªlike piecing together a puzzle, really.


    As I hunt and devour, I gather these curious bits and bobs to further my own growth. But I also had a new understanding: what if these monsters were doing the same? If they''ve got levels, could they also be tapping into this same system?


    Bloody hell!


    That would explain a thing or two about why these dungeon pits were considered the bane of the world. But perhaps they were not a cancer at all¡ªmore like a self-sustaining ecosystem where the strong made the rules.


    More I thought about it, more it made sense: if these creatures had access to a system like mine, they''d have the potential to grow endlessly powerful. I was only just beginning to grasp it, but this system¡ªthis ticket to strength¡ªwasn''t just mine. It was the key to survival down here, and it was the reason these monsters grew so formidable.


    They slayed, they feasted, they evolved.


    Not much had ever been known about monsters, but this¡ªthis revelation¡ªfinally made sense of it all. While humans painstakingly cultivate their cores through years of magical practice and refinement, these so-called mindless beasts are propelled to strength by a simpler, yet far more brutal, means: kill and consume.


    And perhaps¡ªjust perhaps¡ªit was this very system that was helping them along the way.


    I''d hauled the turtle beast over to the nearest pile of rubble, arranging it just so before setting to work. My claws, sharp as the devil''s own, initially struggled a bit against that hide¡ªtough as nails, it was¡ªbut once I''d pierced through, it was smooth sailing.


    Teeth bared, I carved out juicy chunks of meat, and oh, the aroma¡ªwell, it was enough to make even a hardened soul like mine salivate.


    Now, this little banquet wasn''t just for the sake of it, oh no. Two reasons pushed me to dig in. First off, the triple reward boost, couldn''t possibly pass that up, now could I? And then there were Stephan''s words gnawing at the back of my mind, along with that peculiar lapse of memory after I''d gone to town on that spider.


    He''d hinted at something wild, said I''d gone utterly feral. But this time? Not a flicker of madness, no frenzy, no blackout¡ªjust the steady rhythm of tearing into flesh and mulling things over. The skin was like old leather, but the flesh beneath? Quite nice, almost a hint of¡­ just something lingering on the tongue. I didn''t know what it was. But it was nice.


    Lotte would have the answers¡ªshe always did. I''d just need to ask her about that odd moment.


    Yet with each bite, more questions nibbled at my thoughts.


    As a human, I could never advance¡ªno mana, no hope of forming a core. Yet here I was, using a system that was probably designed for monsters. And what was more, Lotte could talk to me through it!


    I just¡­ didn''t know what on earth was happening to me.


    I paused, mid-chew, and curled up beside the massive shell of the defeated monster. Why, indeed, was I even searching for an exit when the moment I set foot outside, I''d be struck down on sight? I was a monster now, wasn''t I? A denizen of this dungeon, at least for the time being.


    The promise of transformation was ¡­dangling before me, but how long would it take to unlock my mana, to reclaim my human form?


    And how far from home was I, really?


    I loathed to admit it, but during that battle¡ªwhen I outsmarted the turtle, when I sank my teeth into the spider¡ªthere was a thrill, a satisfaction, as though I¡­ belonged. These memories whispered that I enjoyed it, revelled in that thrill of the hunt.


    And yet, beneath that pleasure that now felt so twisted, a deep pain lingered in my heart¡­ I missed Father. What was he doing now? Searching for me? Surely, he''d be tireless, going to the guards, perhaps even spending his fortune in a desperate bid to find me. Meanwhile, that treacherous rat Jord, who sold me out, might be comforting him, pretending to care.


    I knew I had to keep moving¡ªthe place around me was treacherous, unknown. Lying next to this dead beast wasn''t the wisest of ideas¡­ yet¡­ this moment of melancholy clung to me. It was a shadow that wasn''t keen on letting go. I could feel it, pressing down, whispering that I was lost, and not just in the physical sense.


    What was happening to me, and where did I ¡­truly belong now?


    ARGGGGHHHHH!


    I sprang up from my earlier fetal position, shaking off the thoughts like a wet dog. Too much for my little noggin! It was all so tiring to mull over. Who needed time to think when there was hunting, eating, and growing to be done!


    And besides, I wasn''t alone. If I couldn''t reach civilization without stirring up trouble, Stephan certainly could. He was the only one who knew I used to be human¡ªand he saved my life, didn''t he? Least I could do is help him out! Right-o!


    I let my peepers refocus and had a quick gander around¡ªno beasties lurking about. Smashing! First order of business: time to cash in those hard-earned Morphogens! AWW YISSSS!


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Name: Jade


    Level: 3


    Species: Dragon Hatchling (I)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 15


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 12


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 30


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 17


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 0/0


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 08/14


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Claw Swipe: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Stealth: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crunch: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes: +2


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 1


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 6


    </li>


    </ul>


    Time was of the essence, so I dove straight into the mutation tab.


    [Would you like to use 3 Morphogens to upgrade your eyes?]


    Uhh¡­


    The impending agony made me triple-check that decision.


    OH, STOP DITHERING, JADE, AND GET ON WITH IT!


    It was rather like swallowing a revoltingly bitter pill, except this pill was going to dissolve in my gob and linger there.


    ARRRGGG! SOD IT! YES!


    I mentally bellowed at the screen and squeezed my eyes shut.


    Oh, no pain¡ª AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!


    The familiar torment of a thousand needles furiously rearranging the insides of my eyes nearly drove me bonkers. But I managed to keep just enough sense to dig my claws into the rubble, stopping myself from clawing my own eyes out.


    Finally, it was over, oh, thank the heavens above. I HATE THIS!


    But! BUT! My eyesight had sharpened once more! I opened my eyes and kept them wide open this time, not letting any of the discomfort throw me off. It took a good half-minute before the slight ache and irritation from the hues hit me! A few blinks sorted it out!


    It wasn''t that the hues were any less vivid, just that my eyes were becoming more and more accustomed to them!


    Right then, I think I''ll stick with sharpening these peepers for now, even though wings do sound rather tempting. But if this really is a dungeon, I''m likely traipsing through some dank cave or twisty tunnel, depending on the level. So, flight would be a bit of a waste compared to these rather splendid sharp eyes of mine! Plus, who knows how many more upgrades I could squeeze in¡ªmaybe I''ll end up being able to spot a cockroach through solid stone one day?


    Heh, wouldn''t that be a lark?


    But before I lose the plot, I''d best use that skill point. Just two options left on the table.


    Skills available for acquisition:


    Quick Dash: Requires 1 SP. Gives a boost of speed over short distances but drains Stamina.


    Crush Claw: Requires 1 SP. Enhances claw precision and impact power.


    Well, I reckoned Quick Dash is the way to go, at least for now. I''ve already got a decent set of attack skills, and my real ace in the hole is Stealth. I''ll just need to be clever about using it, only when the chips were down, because it was just facing the reality¡ªthis was a bloody dungeon, and I was basically a walking snack bag full of Morphogens and EXP for anything that fancies a nibble.


    Survival was the name of the game. If I spot anything that was out of my league, I''d leg it! And no looking back.


    [Do you want to learn the skill Quick Dash? This will cost one Skill Point.]


    YESSSS!!!


    AHHHH! There it was again¡ªthe icy rush, that secret library in my noggin doling out another dollop of soothing knowledge. But before I go bounding about like a loon, I needed to suss out how much stamina this Quick Dash will cost me and how effective it really is.


    At the moment, I was sitting on a solid 8 stamina points. Maybe that tussle with the turtle drained most of it, or perhaps it has been creeping back up since. I really ought to keep tabs on my recovery rate so I could plan my moves like a proper strategist.


    Time to give Quick Dash a whirl. As soon as I activated it, I could feel it¡ªmy leg muscles clenched like a vice, a tingle as something sapped a chunk of my energy and crammed it into my legs. They were quaking, trembling with untamed power, and my heart practically leapt out of my chest as I shot forward.


    The world blurred for just a moment¡ªno, even less¡ªand then it was over, the energy drained from my limbs. I glanced back at the heap of debris I''d been standing on just a second ago.


    Five meters, give or take, in the blink of an eye.


    I quickly pulled up the stat screen. Down to 7 stamina points. Damn, it cost me 1 point just to zip 5 meters! But it was something I could rely on if I found myself in a tight spot.


    All in all, I was quite chuffed with it!


    Now that that was sorted, I cast my eyes towards the tunnel''s end in the distance. Time to leg it over there and see where this tunnel ended¡ªand where the real dungeon began.

 Chapter 21: Werewolf on a Mission

    As I stood there, right at the threshold, it all made sense, didn''t it?


    Those cunning cultists had found a way to keep the dungeon beasties at bay, and of course, it was enchantments! What else could it be? Some device must be cloaking the place or sending the monsters packing. That was about as far as my imagination was willing to stretch at the moment.


    Now, smack dab in front of me, was the entrance to cultists'' lair. No grand door, no flashy entrance¡ªjust the outline of a solid metal gate, like the bloody thing had vanished but left its shadow behind. Usual shade of black, obviously crafted from Orichalcum. Filthy rich bastards. A SINGLE KILOGRAM OF THIS STUFF COULD KEEP A LOWER HOUSEHOLD FED FOR A YEAR! And who knows how much of it they''d squandered on this setup? First, those metal pillars, and now this! Hah, pointless to dwell on it.


    Maybe Stephan could scrap it later and make a pretty penny. A plan for another time, perhaps.


    But it wasn''t just the metal that caught my eye. Oh no, it was that damned enchanting script again, etched all over its surface¡ªa web of runes and symbols, now lying dormant. Probably shut down when that white shockwave hit.


    Now, I was no expert in enchantments, but I''ve learned the Empire''s official script, Vel'' Tan, for crafting magic tools. The more I looked at this mess, the more it felt like it was either derived from Vel'' Tan or maybe the other way around. Ehh, not worth fussing over right now. But I could recognize a few runes here and there. That shield-like one? Definitely Aegira. The diamond-shaped rune with mirrored halves, each side reflecting the other? That''s Reflectis.


    The hexagonal rune with six evenly spaced lines radiating from the center? Stabilos, no doubt. And then there was one on each side of the frame, a spiral-shaped rune curling inward like a vortex. A bit off, with thinner lines than I''m used to seeing, but it had to be Absorix.


    Huh, something that siphons mana? From the bottom of the frame, no less? HOH, did those sneaky cultists have hidden mana batteries stashed underneath? Makes sense, considering I didn''t see anything else that could let this frame soak up ambient mana.


    Based on what I could piece together, the whole script seemed to form one massive barrier. Probably the very shield keeping those dungeon nasties out! Cracked it, didn''t I? Again! Take that, you daft pile of Manaroe shit! Vel'' Tan was always superior! But I''ll give credit where it''s due, whoever crafted this was no bumbling beginner. Oh, it does make one wonder, just how far do these cultists'' tentacles reach, and who might their Patron be?


    But no sense in getting your knickers in a twist now, Jade! What''s done is done! Best scarper before their mates pop by, all inquisitive and bothersome.


    So, the final verdict? That plain old metal frame was a fortress in disguise! Hah, magic¡ªnever ceases to leave me flabbergasted, even now. And there, just beyond the threshold, I could see the outline of another cavern, crammed full of webs. White, thick, everywhere! It''s no wonder the spider critters were all over the place the moment this barrier crumbled.


    But it does make me scratch my head! What on earth is the entrance to this base doing smack dab in the middle of a spider monster''s den?


    Maybe they never used it, opting for those nifty portals instead? But then, what was the point of this grand protective barrier? Why not just¡ªoh, I don''t know¡ªblock it off with some great hulking iron gates or make the whole thing collapse into itself? Voil¨¤, natural barrier!


    Once again, I might be missing something glaringly obvious. Oh well, on to the dungeon, Jade! Off you go, step outside, please! Hehe!


    I raised one clawed paw...


    Erm...


    I slowly turned my head and flashed a grin at the wall. Nervous, was I? And talking to walls again, Jade? Tsk, tsk, bad habit.


    With a sigh, I steeled myself, blinking four times to refresh the ol'' focus. Then, with a long, serpentine neck, I peeked outside. Reconnaissance, I say! No way I was about to get caught out in the stalls again!


    Ah, the place looked more like a tunnel than a cave¡ªa bit of a geographical faux pas, really. It was rather spacious, though, all hollow and echoey, with dimensions that''d certainly make my father grin. He was always banging on about natural caves and rocks, though I never quite caught the bug myself.


    The chamber stretched maybe about ten meters in diameter, with a ceiling height of at least eight meters, adorned with jagged stalactites like oversized, threatening icicles, all covered in webs of course.


    Despite all that webbing laced about, one glaring question nudged at my thoughts: WHERE, PRAY TELL, WERE THE BLOODY SPIDERS?


    I slinked out and swatted away a particularly annoying web that dared to obstruct my view. The hues in the air, as usual, were putting on a bit of a light show, bright and flickery, but those pesky webs¡ªah, they were somehow ¡­holding onto these hues, glowing faintly in my vision.


    Made it a right bother to see through them, so I took to them with a vengeance¡ªone-two, one-two! Hacking away like an overly enthusiastic lumberjack. Every time the sticky stuff clung to my claws, I gave them a good shake. Stupid, sticky webs!


    A few slashes later, something caught my eye. Instinctively, I slipped into stealth mode, scrunching up like a startled cat, eyes giving that reliable four-blink routine. Was it¡­? My gaze settled on what appeared to be a spider, but¡­ no, not quite.


    Just a few meters away lay the twisted remains of what had once been a spider¡ªno mistaking that. Its abdomen was torn open, the poor creature lying belly-up in a grotesque display, with a trail of gore that suggested it had been dragged there, perhaps after something had violently disemboweled it. I swallowed hard, taking in the sheer size of the thing¡ªit was monstrous, easily six times larger than the spiders I''d seen in the tunnel earlier. Hulking, really.


    But what in blazes was it doing there, just lying about like yesterday''s rubbish? Nothing seemed to have feasted on it, which was odd, considering the general rule of the place seemed to be "eat or be eaten." Huh.


    My gaze lazily wandered about, until it landed on another distressing sight¡ªan ominous green print smeared on the wall. Naturally, my eyes couldn''t help but follow the trail upwards, leading to the ceiling.


    Hoh.


    HOH!


    Ah, of course, silly old me!


    I began to retreat, ever so cautiously, inch by inch, attempting a spot of humor to keep the growing dread at bay. I suspect it didn''t quite work, though, because before I knew it, my pace was hastily quickening, eyes fixed on the ceiling, not daring to blink.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Four.


    Four of those ghastly creepers, the very ones that had devoured the entire spider colony with such unsettling enthusiasm. Their claws were firmly embedded in the ceiling, unmoving, watching¡ªor rather, not watching, as they had no bloody eyes to speak of¡ªjust waiting, with a hint of those barbed tongues peeking out.


    Their hideous bodies almost blended with the ceiling, which, I suppose, is why I hadn''t noticed them earlier. But there it was, the hues reflecting off their shiny, carapace-like bodies, giving them away. And saving my life, again.


    I edged backward into the tunnel, slowly¡ªvery slowly.


    Perhaps waiting for Barn to wake up wasn''t such a dreadful idea after all¡­


    As I slipped back inside, through the dormant protection gate, fully prepared to bolt like a startled Quiliar, I froze mid-step, my blood running cold.


    Another one. Inside. Crawling ever so slowly along the ceiling. And, the moment I entered, it stopped, its head twisting ever so slightly in my general direction. It had no eyes, so I had to assume, of course!


    Oh, dear lord, no. No, no, no.


    I swiftly tore my gaze away, heart hammering madly.


    It hadn''t pounced yet¡ªperhaps it was eyeing me up, trying to decide if I was more snack or sport? Oh, what do stealthy critters do best? Lurk about, no doubt, plotting their dastardly schemes before springing! But it just kept creeping, inch by insidious inch, and with every agonizingly slow movement, I could feel my blood turning to ice.


    What was I to do? If I bolted, it would know I''d spotted it, and that would be practically begging for a chase! No, no, no, couldn''t have that.


    But I had no choice.


    With a breath that felt more like swallowing a brick, heart jammed firmly in my throat, I readied myself. Oh, for the love of Thalador, I had no intention of becoming this beastie''s next course.


    Only one option left! No turning back now.


    Just ahead, I felt the tingle¡ªQuick Dash¡ªsurging through my legs, filling them with power while greedily draining my stamina. The beast on the ceiling inched ever closer.


    I started the countdown, legs coiling like springs.


    Three. I hunched a little, setting my posture just right.


    Two. Tail stretched out, balancing me.


    One. Neck craned, eyes locked on my escape route.


    AND ZERO!


    I was off!


    I think the creeper realized I was up to something because, in an instant, there was an explosion of pebbles and dirt as something hefty crashed right where I''d just been. But I was already five meters away, darting into the dungeon. I dared a glance back¡ªblimey, it was just its tongue that caused all that chaos! If I''d been a second slower, I''d have been a dragon skewer!


    But no time to pat myself on the back¡ªI could almost feel all four of them snapping their heads toward me in perfect, terrifying unison, just out of the corner of my eye.


    Wasting no time, I bolted with another Quick Dash, zipping through the maze of webs in one mad blur. The blasted things stuck to me everywhere¡ªhorns, eyes, mouth¡ªone name it. But did that slow me down? Not a chance!


    The moment my claws hit the ground, I launched into another Quick Dash, then another, blinking past the dungeon tunnel. Five times I did it, and by the end, I was knackered, but claws crossed the distance I''d put between us would be enough.


    [Quick Dash has reached level 2]


    Oh, splendid¡ªa level up! Yay!


    NOW WAS NOT THE TIME FOR IT!


    These monsters weren''t just fast; they were ridiculously fast, and much, much stronger than me. I''d have no chance against even one in a fair fight, let alone FOUR!


    I heard crashes behind me, one after another, but no way was I going to risk a glance back. It could have been more of those tongue attacks, or who knows what, but the fact that I wasn''t already digesting in their bellies or skewered by some ungodly appendage gave me a shred of hope.


    OH CRIKEY, OH BUGGER, OH CRIKEY, OH BUGGER!


    So, I ran. Like my life depended on it¡ªbecause it did! The forest of webs ended soon enough, and I could finally see the dungeon tunnels for what they were: deep browns and blacks, now free of those sticky nightmares, with only the hues of my vision lighting them up.


    The attacks seemed to stop, so I risked a quick peek behind me. My heart nearly leapt out of my throat¡ªit was still after me, barreling down on all fours like some bloody werewolf on a mission!


    I didn''t think it was catching up, because it seemed we were practically neck and neck in speed. But alas, it had a trick up its monstrous sleeve: a ranged attack. That grotesque maw gaped wide, and with a sickening snap, it fired off that barbed tongue of its straight at me.


    AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!


    I shrieked, darting sideways like a mad hare. Yet, those wretched barbs still managed to graze my toes, sending a shiver through the scales as they hardened in defense. The tongue crashed beside me, missing by a whisker.


    Speed was well and good, but I knew I couldn''t keep this up forever. That thing was so much larger than me¡ªnaturally, it had stamina points to spare, unlike little me. And dodging its infernal tongue indefinitely? Not likely.


    I whipped my head forward, eyes scanning frantically for salvation. Something¡ªANYTHING! Please, not now! I wasn''t keen on becoming a skewered snack. What a bloody fool I was! Why on earth did I leave that cozy little hidey-hole?


    Hues danced madly in my vision¡ªon the walls, the floor, the ceiling. But wait¡ªhuh? HUH? Just ahead, there was a small spot devoid of hues, a hole, perhaps? A HOLE! And by the looks of it, just big enough for me to squeeze into! Oh, sweet mercy!


    A surge of hope propelled me forward, making a beeline for the opening. Another lash of that cursed tongue caught my tail, pain shooting up my spine. But I was close¡ªso close!


    YES!


    I launched myself toward the hole in the wall, carried by sheer momentum.


    But just as my head neared the supposed escape, my eyes widened in horror. It wasn''t a hole at all¡ªjust a patch of tunnel where the hues had taken a holiday. Same black-brown stone, no escape in sight.


    NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!


    But the momentum was unforgiving, and before I could even gather another coherent thought, I slammed into the solid wall.

 Chapter 22: Evolution

    Ah, the ol'' brainbox, a right mischievous bastard. Like a bloody puppeteer, yanking the strings of perception with wild abandon, all based on the absolute cacophony that bombarded one through their senses. What we saw, what we heard, what we felt¡ªit all came charging at the brain like a herd of stampeding manaroes, a chaotic flood of perception squeezing through the narrow gorge of our noggin.


    And the mind, ever the eager beaver, couldn''t wait to start spinning a bloody yarn, crafting a tale of what was about to go down.


    But it wasn''t just a guess, was it? More like a premonition, an expectation so vivid it was practically real, as if the event was already playing out before one''s very eyes.


    That mental jig, that cognitive conga line, was probably what kept us ahead of the game, letting the mind run amok with wild simulations of scenarios based on the ever-shifting kaleidoscope of actions one observed.


    So there I was, the moment I clocked that odd little patch of shadow, completely devoid of those vibrant hues that had become my constant companions¡ªon the tunnel walls, the floor, everything was drenched in them, bathed in them¡ªperhaps my mind decided to take a creative leap ahead of reality.


    It conjured up a hole, an escape route, a lifeline in those last desperate moments.


    Why? Hell if I knew? Maybe it was just easier to dream of salvation than face the grim truth of a dead end. Perhaps that''s why my brain painted a picture of a hole where there was bugger all, simply because it was what I needed to see.


    And then, the very next image my lovely brain served up, right after that vision of a dead end and my poor mug careening towards the unforgiving wall, was the anticipated crash¡ªloud enough to rattle my senses and reignite the dreadful notion that I was well and truly screwed.


    So, for the love of all things sacred¡­ WHERE IN THE BLINKING HELL WAS I?!?


    I had braced for it, ready to kiss that solid rock with my head. But, yeahhhh¡ªI didn''t crash! I sailed right through that so-called solid space in the wall.


    Alright, Jade, keep your knickers on. Time to take stock of this bizarre new space¡­


    I cast my peepers around and those familiar hues were back, lighting up the sides of this new tunnel, clear as day. It was a tight squeeze, but just roomy enough for me to wriggle through. And as for that hideous creeper? No chance it could squeeze its ugly mug in here. Small mercies.


    But, the strangest thing wasn''t the size of it¡ªit was the bloody material it was made up of. It wasn''t made of the same stone as the outside. I touched it with my claw, it felt more like the inside of a tree trunk. And worse yet, it was sticky. Yuckies! I whipped my head around for another look, and of course, the entrance was blocked off¡ªagain, no hues in sight in that particular part.


    With a full-bodied twist, despite the tunnel being tighter than a miser''s purse strings, I managed to shimmy my way through, arching my back just so, and slid my tail at an angle, letting me squeeze through without too much of a to-do.


    Ha! Look at me, all scaly, bendy and whatnot.


    Right then, I retraced my steps and took another gander at that blocked-off entrance. It was odd¡ªdownright peculiar, actually. Everything in my sight was lit up by those hues, but this thing? It was as if it was having none of it. No light dared touch it, making it look as though it simply... wasn''t there at all.


    Swallowing hard, I lifted a cautious paw and pressed it against the surface... and blimey, it went straight through!


    IT WENT RIGHT THROUGH THE BLOODY SOLID STONE?!?


    Some sort of illusion, perhaps? I knew a fair bit about illusions, thanks to the [Path of the Winter Salamander] that folks in Randall studied. It was all about handling illusions, though I never dabbled in it myself. I knew the pitfalls of the basics well enough. You could always spot one if you knew where to poke.


    But there wasn''t a soul around me, and illusions didn''t just pop up on their own... or did they? I was so far out of my league here. I didn''t have a clue about how dungeons worked. Never wanted to be a delver, and I certainly didn''t envy those nutters who did. EVERYTHING IN THIS PLACE WAS OUT TO KILL THEM¡ªAND EACH OTHER, FOR THAT MATTER. I mean, who in their right mind would willingly come down here?!


    Swallowing hard, I braced myself and slid my serpentine noggin through that unsettling, shadowy patch. And, naturally¡ªbecause why would anything be straightforward¡ªit passed through like it was no more than a figment of my imagination.


    First order of business? Look for that sneaky creeper. The moment my eyes didn''t catch sight of anything in the tunnel, I knew better than to linger. I glanced up. Of course, of course, that little bastard had scurried up to its favorite haunt, clinging to the ceiling like a deranged chandelier, biding its time.


    Why was it doing this? I was just a wee thing, barely a snack, and certainly not gourmet! Surely, I wouldn''t even make a satisfying crunch! Why couldn''t it just leave me be?


    Well, it was welcome to hang about for as long as it fancied, but I wouldn''t be playing its game. Not today, you oversized twit!


    I pulled my head back through the shadowy veil, twisting myself around in that narrow hole with a maneuver that was becoming second nature.


    Ahead, the tunnel wound its way into the unknown, twisting out of sight about seven meters ahead. The whole place was a death trap, everything here fashioned to be a weapon¡ªincluding me, as it turned out.


    But what choice did I have? I couldn''t just sit here like a sitting duck. What if that ceiling-hugging monstrosity decided to get creative and shoot its tongue right through the wall I''d disappeared behind?


    Perhaps I was overthinking it; maybe the daft thing hadn''t even noticed where I''d gone¡ªit didn''t have eyes, after all. But paranoia was a powerful motivator, so I carefully nudged my paws forward, slipping into stealth mode and creeping along as quietly as a cat.


    The tunnel was bathed in hues that cast an eerie, ever-present glow, as if someone had left a spell of illumination on indefinitely. Every thirty seconds or so, I paused to refresh my vision, blinking rapidly to clear the uncomfortable haze. I wouldn''t be caught unawares this time, oh no.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    As I continued my cautious trek through this peculiar passage, I couldn''t help but notice the odd details. The walls were made of some bark-like material, and the smell was getting stronger. I raised my head and sniffed, a curious mix of Lumenrass and Charmelia if I were to guess. But what really caught my attention was the sticky stuff beneath my claws. It was collecting in a narrow stream below me, like a sluggish little river of sap, oozing its way along the tunnel floor.


    At first, it was so narrow I might''ve overlooked it, had it not been for the way it glowed¡ªbright hues shimmering in that sticky sap, turning it into a glowing thread. But now, oh, it was spreading, this stream of glowing goo, getting wider with every step, and the hues in it were getting more intense than ever. It was like walking over a bloomin'' bright fluorescent tube.


    Hmm, fluorescent tube¡­ what on earth was that? A flicker of memory came from my long-lost dreams, huh, some sort of magic illumination tool? Had to be!


    I gave the little river of sap another look, blinking hard. It burned my eyes just to stare at the thing.


    I really needed to ask Lotte what those hues were all about. Why did they prance around in my vision like that? Why were they in everything around me, first in those webs, and now this sticky little river? And, more importantly, what was the connection between these hues and the monsters that spawned in this blasted dungeon?


    Questions, questions¡ªenough to make one''s head spin. Barn couldn''t rouse himself quick enough to yank me out of this blasted fever dream!


    But for now, I slogged on, without a clue how far I''d stumbled. The sap stream had bloated to the size of a little river, forcing me to waddle through it like a ruddy duckling. Stupid sticky sap. I could feel a proper phobia brewing for anything remotely adhesive.


    Then, just as I was about to lose my mind, I spotted movement up ahead. A bug¡ªor rather, a monster of a bug¡ªa shade smaller than me, but not by much. The bug had a glossy amber-colored shell, segmented into sections that looked almost see-through. Legs were thin but long, ending in sharp hooks that gripped the tunnel walls. The head was large, with big, round eyes. Its mandibles were dripping with sap, twitching as it worked on whatever task it was doing with it.


    I just stood there, gobsmacked, watching it go about its business. It was busy doing something in the sap, possibly having a right go at its dinner. But, I wasn''t too sure.


    I edged forward, while already in stealth mode, but apparently, something tipped it off. It let out a shriek and... vanished.


    What in the blithering blazes?


    I swear I only caught the faintest shadow before it disappeared, leaving behind a patch of tunnel oddly ¡­devoid of those cursed hues.


    Brilliant. Another bloody illusion.


    How in the devil''s name does anything, ANYTHING AT ALL, without my knack for spotting these hues manage to survive in this godforsaken pit?


    I couldn''t help but chuckle. The poor sod thought it was being all clever, didn''t it? But its illusion was about as effective as a child playing hide and seek behind a curtain. The hues, bless them, didn''t even bother to light up the spot where it tried to pull its little disappearing act. Not that I was about to pass up an easy bit of experience and mutagen. Oh, heavens no!


    So, I tiptoed closer, claws at the ready. The knowledge of the perfect Claw Swipe was already bubbling up in my brain. The moment I was within striking distance, I lashed out at that suspiciously hue-less patch.


    The bug let out a blood-curdling shriek, and its illusion fell apart like a cheap disguise. But apparently, it fancied itself a bit of an ambush artist, because before I knew it, its bloody mandibles were clamped onto my paw!


    PAIN!


    I yelped as they dug in, but then I felt my scales toughen up, doing their level best to protect me.


    [Scale Harden has reached level 2]


    Oh, this little prickly sensation wasn''t about to slow me down, not on your life. With a wide grin that probably looked more terrifying than I''d care to admit, I sank my teeth right into its face, mandibles and all. It squirmed like a worm on a hook, trying to scramble up the tunnel walls with those rather unpleasant leg hooks, but my bite¡ªnow powered by Crunch¡ªwasn''t letting go anytime soon.


    From that point on, it was less of a fight and more of a slapstick skirmish. I rather gleefully took to manhandling the poor blighter with my claws, tossing the shrieking little nuisance into the river of sap like a rubbish bag. Then, with all the elegance of a lunatic with a hedge trimmer, I went to town with a series of Claw Swipes, hacking away at its shell until it was leaking who-knows-what from who-knows-where.


    [Claw Swipe has reached level 3]


    The creature kept up its pitiful wailing, but honestly, it was just noise at that point. There was no escape on the horizon for it, and soon enough, even the screaming fizzled out.


    [You have slain a Level 1 Coleoptera Titanus Adolescentus (II).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Skill point(s) obtained: +2.]


    It finally keeled over, my claws having left it with deep gashes. Sticky, revolting green goo was leaking out, mingling into the sap below.


    But hang on a minute, how in the hell did I manage to bag two full levels from a measly level one beastie? Last time, on that triple experience reward, I barely scraped a single level off that level one turtle. What was the difference? I squinted at the screen again¡ªdefinitely level one, but with a curious little (II) in the corner.


    Before I could ponder this further, another screen decided to rudely interrupt.


    [Level Cap Reached: Maximum Level Attained.]


    [Evolution Process: Available and Ready for Initiation]


    What the fuck?

 Chapter 23: The Sap

    A sudden, sharp sting shot through my paw¡ªah, yes, the cheeky little beast had bitten me, and with enough gusto to pierce through my scales, no less! I squinted at the bite marks, something rather peculiar caught my eye. My wounds were drenched in the glowing sap beneath me, and... good heavens, was this stuff alive? Tiny, glistening tendrils were slowly inching their way up toward the bite.


    Naturally, I did what any perfectly reasonable creature would do in such a situation.


    "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"


    I shrieked and yanked my paw back, shaking it about like a mad thing, but those tendrils weren''t having any of it. No, they kept creeping up, stubborn as a mule.


    What in the blazes was this stuff? Why on earth was it moving like that? Before I could even begin to make sense of it, the sap had wormed its way into the wound. I shook my paw furiously, but it clung on like a desperate lover. Was it... drinking my blood? It seemed to vanish as it soaked up the crimson, leaving the wound drier by the second.


    And then, just like that fancy light magic the priests of Thalador were always banging on about, the wound began to knit itself back together, all neat and tidy. The torn skin was pulled tighter than a miser''s purse strings, bit by bit, until it was as though the bite had never had the nerve to happen. Scales and all, good as new.


    The sap, clearly having done its job, finally loosened its sticky grip, retreating down my leg like it had better places to be. I stood there, utterly gobsmacked, my thoughts whizzing about like startled pigeons. Did this sticky muck just... heal me? No, that couldn''t be right. Surely not.


    But there it was, as plain as the nose on my face. Well, there was only one way to settle this, wasn''t there? Without a moment''s hesitation, I sunk my sharp canines into my paw again. Pain shot through, but I gritted my teeth and bore it.


    Blood welled up, as expected. I stared down at the infernal sap, daring it to do its thing. After a few agonizingly slow seconds of nothing, I dunked my paw back into the goo.


    And ofcourse, the moment I did it, the tendrils sprang to life, slurping up my blood like it was their favourite tipple, and the wound stitched itself back together right before my very eyes.


    Blimey, this stuff actually healed! What in the blazes was it? Now, I fancied myself a bit of an alchemy buff¡ªbeen dabbling in it since I was but a tot¡ªbut if anyone had told me that dungeons were just hoarding top-shelf healing potions like this very sap, I''d have given them a good whack upside the head for talking absolute codswallop.


    Healing potions, like all proper alchemical creations, demanded a certain finesse. You''ve got to strike that perfect balance of heat, give it just the right stir, pause at the precise moment, cool it with care, and introduce those volatile catalysts at just the right tick of the clock.


    One tiny slip-up, and poof¡ªcongrats, you''d turned your ingredients into a useless, bubbling mess. A touch too much heat, or a hasty stir, and you were left with nothing but a cauldron full of disappointment.


    Alchemy''s always been a bit of a passion of mine. Lotte was a top-notch mentor, taught me more recipes than I could count. The common thread through all of them? Time, effort, and the perfect ingredients.


    And yet, there I was, staring at this glowing sap, dribbling out of this¡­ dungeon¡­ tree, with no idea what the fuck it was.


    No base, no catalysts, no carefully-timed manathermic reactions¡ªjust pure, potent healing power, handed to me on a silver platter. I mean, take that salve I whipped up to cure those burns on what was supposed to be the last peaceful day of my life. That had taken ages!


    It all started with Sunbarm Root Paste, thickened and stabilized in holy water to act as the magical solvent. Then I had to add White Salamander''s Breath, a finicky little catalyst that, when introduced to the cooled base, set off a controlled boil¡ªexactly what one needed to blend everything together on a fundamental level.


    Then, for that final touch, it needed something like Moonshadow Extract, or anything equally rich in light magic, to bind the whole thing together. Timing was everything¡ªtoo soon, and you''d ruin the Moonshadow''s delicate properties; too late, and it wouldn''t integrate, leaving the salve about as effective as a soggy tissue.


    And yet, this sap, just oozing through this tunnel like it''s no big deal, was packed with all the potency of a master-crafted potion, without any of the faff. It was bloody baffling! BLOODY BAFFLING, I SAY!


    I turned my gaze back to the stat screen. Evolution? Oh-ho! So that''s a thing too, is it? Naturally, it was. And let''s not forget that Lotte once gave me strict instructions¡ªunder no circumstance was I to initiate it without her. Why? Who knows? But it was Lotte, and after all these years with her, you''d be daft to question it.


    I waved away the screen, staring at the bug monster''s remains. Oddly enough, I wasn''t feeling particularly peckish. I had already feasted on a spider monstrosity and a turtle-like creature¡ªfeeling quite stuffed, actually. A bit like when you''ve overindulged at a Sunday roast, and the thought of another bite makes your stomach threaten revolt.


    Still, waste not, want not, as they say. And this squashed critter was brimming with mutagen, too good to pass up.


    I swallowed hard, eyeing the mangled mess my claws had made. Green ichor oozed from the creature, but the healing sap seemed unbothered by it¡ªprobably because it was, well, dead. With a resigned scrunch of my nose, I opened my mouth and bit down. "Oh, yuckies..." I wanted to say, but to my surprise¡ªjust like the spider and turtle before¡ªit was actually rather scrumptious. Nom nom nom!


    [Morphogen source assimilated.]


    [Morphogens acquired: +4.]


    HAAAAH! I flopped back with a groan after finally polishing off that bug¡ªby Thalador''s knickers, that was a feast and a half! I couldn''t have managed another bite if I''d tried, not even if they''d offered me a spot of pudding after. I stretched out, letting my paws soak in the healing sap, though even with my upgraded eyes, I still couldn''t look directly at the stuff. Too bloody bright! But it did remind me that I''d nabbed four whole morphogens from that critter.


    Four! Proof positive it was a higher level than me. Not that it was a surprise¡ªit was the first beastie I''d encountered that could toss about a bit of magic. Illusion magic, no less!


    The only reason I managed to take it down was because of those hues. If I hadn''t been able to see through its wonky illusions, I''d have been six feet under before I''d even set foot in this blasted tunnel. Probably with that creeper munching on my remains. This dungeon was dangerous¡ªno, scratch that¡ªbloody dangerous!


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Now that I could evolve, maybe that ''II'' after the bugger''s name meant it had already gone through a round of evolution? Second stage, perhaps? Who knows. Ugh! Barn, you absolute git, wake up already!


    I let out a long sigh, swirling the sap beneath me with one of my claws. It parted around them, closing up as quickly as I cut through it. Would''ve been quite soothing to watch if it didn''t singe my retinas every time I glanced at it. And why on Earth couldn''t I store the stuff? It was practically a top-shelf healing potion, and it was just lying about, going to waste. It rubbed me the wrong way, seeing it all just... there.


    I glanced down the tunnel. My ears, always sharp as a tack, were just as keen in this monster body. Odd that they weren''t listed as something I could upgrade, but there you have it.


    I could hear it¡ªsoft noises, whimpers, the fluttering of wings like some oversized fly, even a few growls. There had to be an open space up ahead, probably crawling with more beasties.


    I wasn''t sure what lay ahead. Maybe I didn''t want to know. For now, I had enough mutagens for a few more upgrades. I pulled up my stat screen.


    Name: Jade


    Level: 5


    Species: Dragon Hatchling (I)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 15


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 12


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 30


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 17


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 0/0


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 03/14


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Claw Swipe: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Stealth: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crunch: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Quick Dash: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes: +3


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 2


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 7


    </li>


    </ul>


    Upon closer inspection, there was a cheeky little "(I)" tucked right behind my own species name. Rather curious, hmm? So perhaps, after a bit of evolutionary sprucing up, I''d be sporting a shiny new "(II)" as well. Made perfect sense, really.


    Ah, and dragons! Yes, that word tickled something deep in the back of my mind. I hadn''t quite had the luxury of pondering it, really, what with all the running for my life and whatnot. Never actually encountered a beastie by that name in this world, though it struck a familiar chord¡ªlikely from my dreamworld. Not that I was particularly well-versed in the local fauna here either.


    What on earth was that creeper that fancied chasing me? Or that monstrous bug? I was slapping the most obvious labels on them¡ªspider monster, creeper, bug monster¡ªterribly original, I know. Was it odd, though? Their species names were even more of a head-scratcher. Titanus Adolescentus? What in blazes was that supposed to mean? But "dragon," now that stood out, no doubt about it, probably because it echoed from my dreamscape.


    The images bubbling up in my noggin confirmed that dear Lotte was one of these dragons, too. It''s all a bit befuddling if you dwell on it for too long, so I decided not to. Better to shove it aside and keep my wits about me. Speaking of which, a quick swivel of my serpentine neck revealed no immediate threats lurking about¡ªsplendid. Perhaps I''d linger here for a spell.


    My focus drifted back to the stat screen, particularly to the resource section.


    Skills available for acquisition:


    Crush Claw: Requires 1 SP. Augments claw precision and impact force.


    Select a mutation:


    Eyes +4: Improve visual processing and targeting accuracy.


    Wings +1: Reinforce wings to enhance flight performance.


    Legs +1: Augment leg power and maneuverability.


    Claws +1: Upgrade claws for increased lethality.


    Scales +1: Fortify scales for superior defensive capabilities.


    Fire Gland +1: Enhance fire gland for elevated internal mana input.


    Well, that was a bit of a doddle, wasn''t it? Eyes, of course! I mean, really, who wouldn''t? All I wanted was to feel a smidgen more like my old self. Sure, the other options had their merits, but these blasted eyes of mine were the real bother. Bright hues? Useful, I''ll grant you that, but they''d be even more splendid if my brain could process them without turning every proper glance into a migraine.


    So, I''d be left with three Morphogens, eh? Might as well put the rest to good use¡ªperhaps invest in some claws and scales, beefing up both my offence and defence. It''s only logical, after all. Then I''d still have one Morphogen left in the tank. Perfect for another go at the peepers once I''d gathered a few more. Sounded like a plan!


    Right then, Eyes it was!


    Would you like to use 4 Morphogens to upgrade your eyes?


    Hold on a tick¡ªcould I select multiple upgrades at once? The pain was inevitable, so why not lump it all together? Take the hit in one go, rather than dragging it out? Seemed the sensible thing to do.


    I mentally ticked a few more boxes.


    Would you like to use 6 Morphogens to upgrade your eyes, claws, and scales?


    Brilliant! It worked! Now, all that was left was to brace for the inevitable agony.


    Yay! Go on, Jade, just say yes! It''s only a teensy bit of pain¡ªnothing you haven''t handled before, right? Of course, a bit of self-deception never hurt anyone. The only way I was ever going to get through this was by convincing myself it was no big deal.


    I dug my claws into the bark-like material of the tunnel, took a deep breath, and mentally clicked "Yes."


    ¡­


    ¡­


    AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!

 Interlude 1: Heralas - The Anomaly

    Heralas paused the flow of magic, a scowl darkening his face. "Bloody hell," he muttered, snapping at himself before forcing the mana back into the circle. His shift was nearly over, after all¡ªno time for cock-ups now. Both hands were firmly pressed against the runes etched into the wall, each one glowing an obnoxious red as he funneled his mana into the runes.


    Something was definitely off. By now, the ritual should''ve been wrapped up. The resistance he''d felt when he first started this nonsense was supposed to have melted away ages ago. The Flower of Sauren should''ve been summoned by now, greedily sucking up the mana from the remote arrays to establish itself in the dungeon.


    But instead, it felt like he was pouring his mana into a bloody black hole. No signal to stop, no bloody nothing.


    His core was getting dangerously low¡ªsomething that made his skin crawl. Bollocks, this was not his idea of a good time. But Triton would be on shift soon, and Heralas could hand off this mess and report the anomaly to the lord.


    Stepping back for a moment, he shook out his hands, the fatigue of holding them in place too bloody long starting to set in. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he placed them back on the damn glowing runes.


    "Fucking hell, Arion, you useless sack of shite! If you''re doing this just to piss me off, I swear by Selene''s withered tits, I''ll¡ª" he caught himself, cursing his own rage for making him blaspheme.


    Damn it all to the pit! Where the hell was Triton? Heralas was nearly drained dry of mana, and soon, he was completely tapped out. His legs wobbled, and he cursed under his breath, grabbing onto a nearby pillar to steady himself. Staggering out of the chamber, his vision started to blacken at the edges. Ha, he should''ve kept some mana in reserve. Maybe pushing himself was a terrible idea.


    The thought crossed his mind¡ªperhaps the ritual was completed. Maybe the Flower of Sauren had taken root, and it was just Arion being a spiteful prick, cutting the connection to make Heralas suffer.


    After all, Heralas had been the one to recommend that lazy sod as the perfect candidate to oversee the ritual, just to keep himself out of it. He''d even fibbed about his knowledge of Flora Ritual Arts, just to avoid getting roped in.


    So, it made perfect sense that Arion would take his petty revenge by severing the connection once the Flower was anchored, letting Heralas''s precious mana drain into thin air.


    Or maybe, just maybe, Heralas was entirely wrong about the whole damn thing.


    Wading through the corridor, he eventually reached a door and slammed his fists into it with what little strength he had left. "Triton! It''s your bloody turn, you daft prick! Get your arse in here, now!"


    There was a bit of shuffling behind the door, and when it didn''t open within ten seconds, Heralas'' patience snapped like a twig.


    "What in the blithering fuck are you doing in there? The bloody array''s dormant! You should''ve been down there ages ago, ready and raring to go!"


    The shuffling quickened¡ªjust a tad¡ªbefore the door was flung open. Out stumbled another mage, hair a chaotic mess of blonde, his angular jaw set with a pair of ruby-red eyes and pointy ears just like Heralas''. The lad was a good deal younger, shirtless, and draped in a blanket that looked like it had been snatched from a bed mid-slumber. His hair was in such a state that even a blind sod could tell he''d been having a kip.


    "What do you mean, ''Already''? Wasn''t your shift four hours ago?" he yawned, as if Heralas had just disturbed his beauty sleep. "Can''t believe you didn''t last that long."


    Heralas'' long elven ears flushed crimson, twitching with the barely contained fury bubbling beneath his skin. He let it show, not bothering to hide the temper that was rising like a storm.


    "You do realize, you brainless twat, that we''ve got to crank up the output once the resistance dies down! Not all of us are blessed with a mana core as massive as yours! Just¡ª" Heralas rubbed his eyes, his frustration seeping out. "Don''t argue with me, just shut your gob and get your arse in gear."


    "But¡ª"


    "I said SHUT THE FUCK UP and get to work!" Heralas knew exactly what was coming¡ªa complaint about not having fully topped up his mana reserves. But four hours was more than enough, and this lazy sod recharged faster than anyone else. Selene had blessed him, after all¡ªthere was no way Heralas could compete with that sort of divine favoritism.


    "Just give me a sec," Triton muttered, slamming the door shut, leaving Heralas to fume in the corridor. No doubt he was getting dressed, probably faffing about with his robes. Heralas seethed, his anger simmering as he waited for what felt like an eternity.


    When the mage finally reappeared, he was the picture of elven nobility¡ªwhite robes perfectly pressed, even the wild hair tamed and combed back. Heralas'' ears twitched again, his rage rekindling.


    "You made me wait just to comb your sodding hair?" he asked in a low, dangerous whisper.


    "Hah! Of course you''d think that, brother. But we''re here to serve Goddess Selene, aren''t we? Lord Styn Lor himself might be watching, and you''d have me go in looking like I crawled out of a troll''s arse?"


    With that, the younger mage bowed with all the exaggerated pomp of a bloody peacock, strutting down the corridor like he owned the damn place. Heralas, left simmering in his own stew of rage, swallowed his pride along with a bitter dose of loathing. What else could the he do?


    He trudged in the opposite direction, though it was more of a stagger than a stride. In the past 24 hours, his mana had been bled dry not once, but twice. Having one''s core sucked dry once was already a kick in the teeth, but twice in one day? That was just taking the piss.


    But rest? Oh, that was a distant dream. He had to report the anomaly to the lord first, then maybe, just maybe, he could collapse in a heap and call it a night.


    As much as he wanted to curse Arion up one side and down the other for his current misery, he knew better. That bastard didn''t mess around with this sort of thing. If the Flower of Sauren had already taken root in the dungeon, it''d need a bloody truckload of purified mana from outside to establish itself properly. But the whole thing was off¡ªthe sigils were supposed to be draining his mana like a starving leech, not leaving him to spoon-feed a gaping void.


    Night was creeping in, and the mana lamps flickered dimly along the corridor walls. Heralas'' palms were clammy as he descended the stairs. He was knackered, both body and soul, but he braced himself. He couldn''t afford to show weakness, not in front of him.


    Deep breaths, he told himself. Deep bloody breaths.


    Before long, he stood before an ornate gate, a piece of art that would''ve made any lesser man shit himself. Seven serpentine figures, each with ruby-colored crystals for eyes, coiled against the background of a blood-red moon, their gazes fixed on Heralas.


    Most would chalk it up to an artist''s fever dream, but Heralas knew better. He''d been there when these beastly things had devoured a poor sod of a guard who dared lay a finger on this gate without permission.


    Taking a shaky breath, he rapped gently three times on the middle serpent''s head.


    "Enter," came a soft voice from within.


    The middle serpent''s ruby eyes gleamed as it curled, forming a handle for Heralas to grip. He grabbed it and shoved the bloody heavy door open, struggling every inch of the way.


    Of course, the miserable bastard inside could have opened it with a mere thought, not so much as lifting a lazy eyelid. But, of course, He wanted to see him suffer, knew damn well that Heralas was on his last legs, mana all but gone. Not even a drop left to muster a piddly Force Spell. And everyone knew that those who followed a pure magical path didn''t exactly bulk up physically.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    But if the sadistic git inside thought he was going to get his jollies watching him struggle, he had another thing coming. Not today, you bastard. Not today.


    With every ounce of dignity he had left, Heralas forced his face into a mask of calm as he finally pried the door open and shut it behind him, ever so gently. No point giving the bastard the satisfaction.


    "Lord Cerith," he said, voice as steady as he could manage, "I''m here to report an anomaly I detected earlier during my shift."


    The chamber was nothing short of obscene in its lavishness. Every bloody thing reeked of wealth¡ªthe kind that would make even a someone as rich as Heralas himself feel like a beggar.


    The furnishings were practically pulsing with Nature mana, courtesy of the Eldwood they were carved from. The ornaments¡ªgolden filigree, crystal vials filled with goddess-knows-what, and artifacts that hummed with powerful mana.


    Massive mana cores, the kind one would only find by diving deep into dungeons, lined the shelves like trophies. Even the rug beneath Heralas'' feet glittered with gem dust from magma crystals, it was all a ridiculous display of opulence if ever there was one.


    And yet, behind that opulent desk sat a man who looked almost comically ordinary by comparison. Sure, he was handsome enough, but there was no flair, no bloody accessories¡ªjust a plain white shirt, neatly combed blonde hair, short and sensible. Bland as porridge, really. Not that Heralas would ever let those thoughts slip past his lips; he wasn''t suicidal, after all.


    The man was young, even by Elven standards. Barely thirty, with a youthful face marred only by a slight stubble. His pointy ears were pierced, but even they were bare, lacking the usual ostentatious adornments.


    He crept up to the desk, every step a calculated effort to not trip over his own bloody nerves. When he finally bowed, it was with all the grace of a man trying not to shit himself. Bent double at the waist, hands splayed like a plucked turkey, he waited. And waited.


    The man behind the desk just kept scribbling away, the pen scratching like a rat gnawing through the silence, while the rug beneath his feet let out a faint, firey cackle.


    Not a peep from him, of course. Just more of that infuriating scribble-scratch, as if Heralas wasn''t bent over like a bloody fool right there. Each second felt like a personal attack, the slow simmer of rage building in his gut. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he gritted his teeth.


    Losing his temper now would be a disaster ¨C exactly the sort of entertainment this sadistic bastard would enjoy.


    "Rise." The word finally slithered out, as if it was a monumental effort for him to spare even that.


    Heralas straightened up, inch by painful inch, and found those frigid crimson eyes boring into him.


    He''d seen them before, but they never failed to send a jolt of pure, icy dread down his spine. It was like staring into the abyss and realizing it was staring back with the intent to make you its plaything. And why wouldn''t it? This man wasn''t just any mortal; he was one of the direct descendants of Goddess Selene, like all the ancient Elven nobility.


    Slowly he set his pen down, carefully tidied the papers on his desk, and then, with infuriating calm, placed his hands flat on the table. "What is this anomaly you are talking on about?"


    Heralas swallowed hard and nodded.


    "As per your instructions, we made the necessary adjustments to the spell array and commenced the infusion of additional mana. The resistance dissipated sooner than anticipated, but we deemed it inconsequential at the time. Consequently, our mana reserves depleted more rapidly than expected. Yet, despite all this time, no signal has been received from the dungeon base to cease operations. I believe¡ª" He faltered, knowing full well that suggesting something might be amiss was like waving a red flag at a bull. "I believe it would be prudent to conduct an investigation, to ensure that all is proceeding as it should."


    The silence that followed was rather heavy. Those crimson eyes were still locked on him, and he felt a trickle of sweat snake its way down his spine. Summoning what little courage he had left, he firmed his tone. "However, if we are to continue, I recommend assigning more mages to the task, so we can effectively recharge our mana while having proper rest¡ª" Oh bollocks, he''d screwed up! "Proper Rest!" What the bloody hell was he thinking, mentioning that?


    But the man''s face remained a mask of stone. Not a single twitch, not even a flicker of emotion as those crimson eyes continued to bore into Heralas like a hot poker.


    "Well, what a surprise," came the reply.


    Wait, what? Did he hear that right? This pompous, sadistic arse actually agreeing with him? Not a bloody chance.


    "Indeed, some adjustments may be warranted. It is the will of the divine, after all; we are but mere instruments in Their grand design. We cannot afford to idle about with matters of such import at hand."


    "R-right, of course." Heralas smiled. Did the bastard just agree with him for the first time without lobbing an insult at his family tree? Miracles do happen.


    "Yet, I do wonder..." Cerith continued, his tone shifting ever so slightly. "Should word of this reach the ears of the aristocracy, it might suffice to cast doubt upon the competence of your esteemed order. Dungeons are the scourge of our world, and the Goddess is resolute in her determination to eradicate them. At such a crucial juncture, are you truly capable of being the instrument of Her will?"


    Oh, bollocks. Heralas might have been a bit too quick on the draw there. But now, a hot surge of anger simmered in his gut.


    "Are you questioning my devotion?" Heralas snarled.


    Lord Cerith eyed him like one might a particularly dull-witted insect.


    "Devotion is disseminated through the Elven Queen and those born of the Palace, as She speaks through them. As it has always been."


    Heralas quickly bowed his head, cursing himself a thousand times over. "My apologies, Lord Cerith. It is as you say."


    Internally, he berated his own loose tongue. How close to getting his head lopped off did he want to get today?


    "I trust you are aware that these particular rituals are of significant interest to us. I shall be assigning three additional mages to your group, Arcanist Heralas. Furthermore, if you are certain there has been an anomaly in the process, inform Arbiter Enlor and conduct an investigation into the portals established at the Thellan Ruins."


    Of course, he''d be the one running around like a dog with a bone, delivering messages like a bleedin'' errand boy. But he held his tongue, didn''t he? Not a peep. Why? Because more mages meant more rest, and after this whole dog-and-pony show, he''d finally get to bloody sleep.


    "Thank you, Lord Cerith. I shall promptly inform Arbiter Enlor of your orders and return to my duties," he said, though by duties, he obviously meant diving headfirst into a blissful coma.


    But Lord Cerith''s face was about as expressive as a stone gargoyle¡ªuntil, miraculously, his lips curled into what could almost be mistaken for a smile. And just when Heralas thought he might''ve earned himself a pat on the head, the corners of Cerith''s mouth twitched.


    "Whoever said anything about returning to your duties?"


    Huh?


    "You are the one who has knowledge of this anomaly, are you not? So, do be quick about it, Arcanist Heralas. You shall be the one to investigate it."

 Chapter 24: The Sudden Scuttle

    Ah, the sweet scent of progress! I could practically taste it¡ªno, not the kind of taste that lingers after chomping down on a dungeon critter¡ªbut the taste of victory, of growing stronger by the day. It was quite a simple notion, really. I was becoming more powerful, something I''d fancied for ages.


    Learning magic, carving out a path, and wielding strength all my own¡ªsomething I had always wanted! And even though mana was still playing hard to get, I was advancing, improving bits and bobs of myself like some sort of self-taught, monster surgeon. With each enhancement, I could practically feel the power surging within me. Every time I levelled up a skill, it was like a jolt of pure joy, a little triumph all of my own.


    One day, mark my words, this whole wretched dungeon would grovel at my feet! Or, er, whatever I happened to be standing on at the time.


    But, alas, dreams aside, my current predicament demanded a rather more pressing solution¡ªunlocking that mana and maybe, just maybe, returning to my former human glory. If I didn''t want to be skewered on sight up there, I''d need to pull it off before that.


    Perhaps I could pass as a magical beast, join Stephan, and waltz out of here. Yet, that plan was about as watertight as a sieve. Would I stay like this, forever? Not that I particularly loathed this body of mine¡ªliving weapon or not, it did have its perks, even if they were rather on the murderous side.


    But if there was to be any hope of reclaiming my old self, it seemed the only way forward was through¡ªkilling more monsters, levelling up, and then... well, I''d have to see. But as I grew stronger with each monstrous defeat, the dream of wielding magic didn''t seem so distant. In fact, I could practically feel it within my grasp. Maybe evolution was the key to it all!


    But, alas, evolution would have to wait, no matter how much I itched for it. Lotte knew better, bless her. So, I sat tight. No threat loomed in this tunnel¡ªat least for the time being. That bugger of a bug seemed to be a loner. Perhaps there were more up ahead in this murky passage. A part of me fancied a little jaunt down there. After all, their illusions were about as useful as a chocolate teapot against me. I could see right through them if I kept my wits about me and my eyes peeled for anything hinky with the hues.


    But I stayed put. First off, because I was stuffed to the gills¡ªbloody hell, what else would I hunt those bugs for? Morphogen, of course! I''d already hit the level cap, and it didn''t seem like any more experience points would be rolling my way. The mere thought of another bite had my stomach doing cartwheels.


    Naturally, the amount of Morphogen I could gather was strictly tied to how much I could chow down. So, my motivation had taken a nosedive. Besides, maybe I''d reached the cap at lightning speed.


    Still¡­ there was a bit of time before Barn would stir. I could really go for a kip and a chat with Lotte. It felt like eons since our last natter, which was, erm, just a few hours ago¡­ Arghhhhh! I hadn''t the foggiest idea how much time had passed since I munched that bug monster and flopped here. Four hours? Maybe five? No clue, but these weird voices echoing up ahead in the tunnel were driving me absolutely bonkers! Why was time dragging its feet like this???


    I sprang to my feet, peeling myself out of that sticky, bright sap. Honestly, I was getting far too chummy with that goo! Sitting here just wouldn''t cut it! Even if it was safe¡­ the tunnel was narrow¡­ and I''d spot any threat a mile off¡­ I reckoned something was seriously amiss with my noggin. This restlessness, this itch to keep moving, to uncover more, to learn¡ªit was like a bloody fire under my backside, even though staying put was probably the sensible option.


    What was this madness? The sensible bit of my brain knew that parking myself, catching some shut-eye, and maybe untangling the knots in my head was the clever thing to do. But then there was this other bit¡ªthe bit that had been poking at me since I first opened my eyes in this new, scaly hide¡ªthat wouldn''t let me rest.


    It was as if my brain had split down the middle. On one side, the urge to be cautious, to survive, to play it smart in this whole cock-up of a situation was hollering at me to stay put. On the other, there was this relentless curiosity, this burning itch to know, to explore, to push the boundaries of what I could wrap my head around, even if it meant hurtling headlong into the unknown.


    This turmoil wasn''t just all in my head¡ªit was physical too. My scales itched, my muscles twitched, and my heart thudded away, as if some primal part of me was dead-set on the idea that staying still was as good as rolling over and letting the world pass me by without so much as a fight. Was it fear? Excitement? Or some bonkers blend of the two? All I knew was that I wouldn''t be able to stand it for much longer.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    I could tell from my own scatterbrained thoughts, from the changes I''d clocked, that I wasn''t the same as before. Didn''t really have much time to dwell on it. And now that I did, I almost didn''t want to stop. I peered down the tunnel, ears pricked for the noises up ahead¡ªthe growls, the flapping wings¡­ I¡ª


    I''d just have a quick butcher''s. Just a little one!


    So, on I waddled, through that wretchedly sticky sap, the squelch of it a rather rude accompaniment to my musings. It wasn''t long before I noticed something odd¡ªyet another part of the tunnel where the hues seemed... off.


    Oh, splendid.


    Probably another one of those bug-eyed bastards, catching wind of my not-so-discreet slogging through the muck. No matter. I was now certain that these lot fancied themselves a bit of an ambush artists, always lying in wait to pounce. Adorable, really. I had half a mind to dispatch it now, save the body for a late snack when I wasn''t so uncomfortably stuffed. Sounded like a decent plan.


    Creeping closer, I feigned ignorance, playing the clueless dolt while inching into range. And then¡ªwham! Claws out, no swiping this time. Oh no, I drove them straight in, relishing the creature''s delightful shrieks as it latched onto my paw with all the ferocity of a particularly vexed toddler.


    But did it know what was coming? Of course not. With a grin, I clamped my jaws around its shrieking noggin, tearing it clean off with a satisfying crunch.


    These bugs were really a one-trick pony, weren''t they? Illusions, illusions, and¡ªoh, what''s that? More illusions. Or perhaps I''d simply caught it so off guard in its little safety net that its tiny mind just fizzled out. Honestly, I''d be gobsmacked too if something I thought I was sneaking up on suddenly turned the tables.


    [Claw Swipe has reached level 4]


    [Crunch has reached level 3]


    Sweet, juicy level ups. I could practically taste it! Was it just me, or had these bugs been speeding up my skill level-ups like nobody''s business? Honestly, they had definitely been punching above my weight class, so maybe using my skills against such formidable foes was cranking up the upgrades at a rather delightful pace.


    Also¡­ The bugger had stopped moving, definitely dead¡ªyet no message had popped up to mark my victory. Welp, made sense. It looked like I''d have to wait until I evolved.


    Leaving the bugger''s corpse where it lay¡ªfor now, at least¡ªI plunged my wounded paw into the vicious sap, watching as the ichor did its work, knitting the torn flesh back together. With a sigh, I resumed my slog, trudging forward until the tunnel began to widen.


    I could see it now¡ªthe tunnel widening just up ahead. Time to get sneaky. With all the grace of a fox in a henhouse, I switched to stealth mode, creeping forward with the utmost caution. Each step was calculated, deliberate, until I reached the tunnel''s yawning mouth. There, I paused, swallowing a lump the size of a goose egg, and stretched my serpentine neck to take a cautious peek.


    What was I expecting? A monster mosh pit, perhaps? I mean, with all those ungodly growls and screeches echoing through the tunnels, none of which sounded like they were on chummy terms, my mind had immediately concocted visions of a full-on brawl. It seemed a reasonable assumption.


    Instead, what greeted me was a massive chamber, its walls festooned with little holes¡ªeach one a perfect twin to the tunnel I''d just slithered out of. From these openings oozed the same sticky sap, dribbling down the stone and collecting in natural basins below. The sap, as per usual, gleamed in those unnervingly bright hues, casting an eerie glow over the entire chamber.


    The floor was an undulating mess, no doubt carved by the incessant drip of sap over the ages. Pools of the stuff shimmered here and there, like sluggish, iridescent lakes. And smack dab in the centre of it all was a colossal tree trunk, easily five metres in diameter, stretching from the chamber''s floor to its ceiling. No branches, though¡ªjust more of those blasted holes, merrily spewing the same sap as if it were the chamber''s lifeblood.


    Then there were the monsters. A veritable freak show of the most bizarre creatures one could imagine, all assembled in one place without so much as a snarl or a swipe at one another. Wait, no, scratch that; some of them were snarling at each other.


    Near these healing sap basins, they stood, each maintaining a respectable distance. There were scaled wolves, serpents with feathers, and¡ªwait for it¡ªrats. Rats that had somehow piled upon each other in a screeching, writhing mass. Good lord, they were absolutely vile, festering with open wounds that made my stomach turn. What in the name of all that''s holy were those abominations?


    There were more monsters lurking about, but one thing was crystal clear¡ªthis was no battlefield. It was as if they had all signed some unspoken truce, an agreement to refrain from tearing each other to shreds in this one sacred space. How very civilised of them.


    They were divided by species, but it wasn''t exactly a family reunion. Some of them kept to themselves, isolated from their brethren, while others mingled with their own kind. The one common thread? They were all nursing some rather nasty wounds. One of the scaled wolves, for instance, had a gash on its neck that looked like it had been on the wrong end of a sword. It gingerly scooped up some sap with its paws, applying it to the wound, and once the healing had kicked in, it politely vacated the spot for the next wolf in line.


    One of those creepers had also slithered its way into the mix, and judging by the wide berth everyone was giving it, this chap had quite the reputation. Nobody seemed keen on getting too close, not even the scaled wolves.


    And then there were the bugs¡ªidentical to the ones I''d squashed in the tunnel earlier. The wingflaps I''d heard must have been them, flitting about. Of course, they could fly, too¡ªbecause why not? They buzzed around the sap-dripping holes in that tree-like monstrosity in the centre, looking as busy as bees around a hive.


    The more I observed, the stranger it all became. What on earth was this place? And more importantly, how in the devil were these monsters managing to be so¡­ civilised about it? It was messing with everything I thought I knew about them, which, frankly, I found rather unsettling.


    I''d always been told that monsters were these mindless, bloodthirsty beasts, hell-bent on nothing but killing and devouring. While that much had held true, I had never once got the feeling they were mindless.


    They were cunning, even if that cunning was solely dedicated to efficiently dispatching other monsters and gobbling them up.


    At least my curiosity was sated, for the moment. My mind had something else to chew on. Part of me even toyed with the idea of venturing down there to see if this truce extended to me as well. Perhaps it was some exclusive monster club, and I''d need a membership card to gain entry to their cosy little healing chamber.


    Of course, these were just idle musings. No way in hell was I about to risk it. So, I waited, pondering how my life had taken such a topsy-turvy turn, with every bit of knowledge I thought I had being upended.


    It wasn''t until I felt a tiny scuttle on my paws that my musings were abruptly interrupted.

 Chapter 25: The Code of a Predator

    Was that what I thought it was?!?


    ¡°Barn?¡±


    I raised my paw to find a tiny, skeletal serpent peeking out, as though trying to blend into invisibility. Was he blushing with embarrassment over what had just transpired? I mean, he did leave me dangling in peril by falling into a nap¡ªperhaps breaching some sort of clause Lotte had put in place. Spirits and AstralBeasts alike usually had a built-in instinct to follow their contracts, so what Barn did probably wasn¡¯t entirely his fault; I had a hand in it as well.


    ¡°Why the sneaky hiding, you little blighter? You know I¡¯m partially to blame too, right?¡±


    Barn glanced up with his oversized, beady eyes¡ªperhaps attempting a pitifully adorable look¡ªbefore skittering across my paw and taking refuge on the far side.


    I twisted my serpentine neck to get a better view. Hang on, he looked a tad different now, with stubby little wings sprouting from his back. Blimey, did he evolve? He used to be gold rank; how does one even top that? Higher ranks generally meant broader powers, so Barn was presumably more powerful, yet still gold rank. How curious. I wasn¡¯t quite sure how to feel about it, especially now that I had the potential to level up myself. My narrowed eyes made him skitter even further away, like a cartoon character in a mad scramble.


    Honestly, his appearance was so outlandish it was hard to even grasp what dimension his body occupied¡ªa hasty brushstroke, as if it hadn¡¯t quite settled into form yet. Sometimes I wondered if any of this was real at all.


    But! FINALLY! Barn was awake!


    First things first, I wrenched my paw from the gooey, sticky sap. Ugh, at last, I¡¯d be able to escape, though I¡¯d definitely be returning to collect some of this potent healing potion. Leave it behind? Not a chance!


    "Oi, stop your sneaking about, you little scoundrel! First things first, give me a hand and help me drop down there," I jabbed a claw in the direction of the chamber below, in the midst of the monster shindig.


    I peered out, glancing over to the top chamber¡ªnothing particularly remarkable, just those many tunnels oozing sap, clustered so close together they triggered an uncomfortable feeling deep within me. Trypophobia, that¡¯s the word, isn¡¯t it? Fear of closely packed holes. Well, well, there¡¯s a word for everything in my dreams. Good to know, I suppose. Thanks, subconscious!


    Anyway, I waited for the spine-tingling sound of agreement from Barn, and as soon as it came, I launched myself through the tunnel opening. Below, a basin of sap awaited.


    Now, I ought to have checked in on Stephan, but my curiosity was positively piqued¡ªwhat on earth would happen if I gatecrashed this monster meet-up?


    As I descended, an invisible force caught me gently, cradling me in mid-air. Blast it, Barn! I¡¯d missed this so bloody much. That familiar warmth of protection, knowing my guardian was a force not to be trifled with.


    The force eased me down, hovering me over the basins. A few of those insectoid beasties got their knickers in a twist, snapping their mandibles in agitation, but none dared to launch an attack. Even as I landed in the middle of the monstrous gathering, the wolves slunk back, as if¡­ afraid of me, while the rat monsters busied themselves, scooping up that healing sap with their grotesque paws. They paid me no mind, but they still gave me the heebie-jeebies¡ªthere¡¯s just something unsettling about enormous, repulsive rats working in unison that sets off all kinds of alarm bells in one¡¯s head.


    The most riled-up reaction, though, came from a creeper that looked an awful lot like the one that had been tailing me earlier. Just a tad smaller. Bile dribbled from its maw, and its barbed tongue lolled out, slick with spit. It was poised on all fours, muscles coiled like it was about to pounce¡ªbut the attack never came. I moved, and it snapped its head to track my every step, but still, no strike.


    My brain, as it often did, began cataloguing each of the monsters. It wasn¡¯t something I needed to do, but it was a habit I couldn¡¯t seem to shake off. I¡¯d always had this peculiar knack for reading people¡ªsussing out their faces, their expressions, and their moods with an ease that¡¯s almost eerie. No clue where this talent came from, but it¡¯s always been there, simmering in the background, guiding my thoughts.


    Even now, a reasoning was stitching itself together in my mind, a logical thread weaving through my thoughts. Perhaps this is why I¡¯ve always been leery of people with masks¡ªthe ones who keep their emotions hidden behind a fa?ade.


    And, dare I say it, it sort of made sense why I found a certain comfort among monsters. Not in a chummy way, of course, but they were cunning, efficient hunters, always ready to finish me off the moment I slipped up. Yet, they were also simple, straightforward in their intent. It was all there to see¡ªthe wolves on edge, the rat fiends indifferent, the creeper spoiling for a fight. Nothing hidden, just raw behaviour laid bare for anyone keen enough to notice.


    But why did I cling so stubbornly to this need to understand, to categorise? Perhaps it was a defence mechanism, a way to grasp some semblance of control in a world where certainty was just¡­ rare. By analysing others, I could predict their moves, anticipate their actions, and shield myself from the unpredictable. It was a skill I¡¯d honed out of sheer necessity, especially in a town where everyone seemed to have it in for me. Perhaps it was my way of surviving.


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    Or maybe¡­ I hadn¡¯t the foggiest clue. AND WOULD YOU STOP ANALYSING YOUR OWN PSYCHE, JADE!!


    Hmm.


    Perhaps Barn could lend a hand¡ªor a bony tail, rather. I threw the question his way, asking if he could retrace my steps and get me back to square one.


    He simply shook his head and clicked his teeth in a rather disheartening trio of ''no''s.


    ¡°But it¡¯s the same place you were just snoozing! Surely you can remember the way back!¡± I pressed, offering a smidge more guidance than just "Cultist''s lair."


    Honestly, why did it feel like I was schooling this gold-ranked calamity on the art of using one''s noggin?


    But no, the head-shaking continued. Only this time, he managed a slightly more enlightening response: ¡®Invocation. Summoned to you. No Path.¡¯


    Ah, so it seemed I¡¯d unwittingly invoked some part of a contract that brought him straight to me. No wonder he hadn¡¯t the foggiest idea how to get back.


    Well, wasn¡¯t that just peachy?


    Perhaps I was approaching this all wrong. Instead of finding our way back, why not put Barn¡¯s natural talents to use? These Parda entities weren¡¯t called bloodhounds for nothing.


    ¡°Remember that guy I told you to spare? The one with the horns..." I raised a claw, mimicking horns atop my head. "Could you give him a little sniff instead?"


    That did the trick! His fake eyes popped open, and he snapped his jaws thrice, practically bouncing with excitement. Absolutely brilliant!


    Suddenly, a force grabbed me, yanking me up, and the monsters around me tensed¡ªwell, all except the rats, of course. Ugh, they were utterly revolting. I spotted two large tunnels leading out of this place. Ah, which one were we taking to go back¡ªWait, Barn? Where the devil was he taking me?


    The trajectory shifted, not towards the two grand tunnel exits, but straight towards a solid stone wall of the cavern chamber.


    Umm¡­?


    The wall was made of the same stone as the rest of this dungeon, but as I got closer, it started disintegrating in this perfectly spherical shape. Oh, I see what¡¯s going on!


    Barn clearly wasn¡¯t interested in following the usual monster tunnel etiquette. I asked him to sniff out Stephan, and he did¡ªjust with a slightly more direct route. Barn¡¯s method? Straight line, mate. And nothing was going to stand in the way of a gold rank¡¯s willpower.


    Blimey! Made me wonder if I¡¯d ever reach that level of power.


    All around me, solid stone. You¡¯d think digging underground might unearth some surprises¡ªhidden treasures, forgotten relics, or maybe even a worm or two. But no, dungeons aren¡¯t like that. Just rocks crumbling away, leaving behind a perfectly cylindrical tunnel, with those swirling hues dancing about.


    In no time, the earth above yawned open, revealing another tunnel¡ªand not just any tunnel, but one I knew all too well! Those sticky webs were a dead giveaway. This was where it all kicked off. The very spot where that ghastly creeper first started tailing me!


    I wondered if they were still lurking about.


    "Hold your horses, Barn," I muttered.


    He did as told while I had a gander around. Most of the webs had disappeared by now, and the entrance to the cultist¡¯s lair was plain as day up ahead. My eyes drifted forward and¡ªwhat''s this? That giant spider monster¡¯s corpse was still parked right where I left it! Hours had passed since I last saw it sprawled there. Peculiar, I thought, as I glanced upwards, and lo and behold, not four, but now five of those creepy crawlies were perched on the ceiling, their beady eyes fixed on the corpse.


    It didn¡¯t take long to unravel what they were up to.


    A peculiar rabbit-like beast, about the size of a small dog, with black fur, red eyes, and a rather nasty set of teeth and claws, emerged from a freshly dug hole nearby. I say freshly because it was right beneath that green stain on the wall I¡¯d spotted earlier. I was certain that hole hadn¡¯t been there before.


    The rabbit took a tentative sniff of the air before inching towards the spider¡¯s carcass, and the moment it did¡­ well, that was the end of that. A barbed tongue shot out, pierced its head, wrapped around it, and up it went. One of the creepers gobbled it up without so much as a second thought.


    Blimey! They were using the corpse as bait. But¡­ something didn¡¯t quite add up. Now, I may not have been a dungeon expert, but I did know this¡ªremnants didn¡¯t stick around in dungeons. You wouldn¡¯t catch a glimpse of skeletons, limbs, or even a stray droplet of blood loitering about. The dungeon had an uncanny knack for gobbling it all up. Corpses? Same story¡ªgive ''em an hour, and they¡¯d disappear, swallowed right back into the dungeon¡¯s gullet from whence they sprang. A curious little quirk of that eerie place.


    But there I was, hours later, still staring at the remains of that spider monster. So why on earth hadn¡¯t it been sucked into the dungeon¡¯s belly by then? Had those creepy-crawlies discovered some way to slow down the process? Not a chance. Only one possibility danced on the edge of my mind, one I was rather keen on ignoring. Could it be¡­ still alive?


    The beast''s body was a canvas of certain carnage: a massive gash leaking green goo from its abdomen, deep punctures oozing on its thorax, and a shattered leg dangling by a piece of white web. A ghastly sight. A clear memory of a savage battle.


    It wasn¡¯t moving¡­ or was it? ¡°Barn, bring me closer,¡± I said, pointing at the spider monster.


    As we drifted nearer, I kept my gaze fixed on the creepers. Their tricks of stealth and camouflage were no match for my keen eyes and the hues. Oh, and the moment I drew closer, their heads all swivelled towards me in unison, one in particular looking a tad more jittery than the rest, muscles taut, tongue lolling out longer than usual¡ªprobably the same rascal that had chased me earlier. Seemed like it was gearing up for another go.


    And then, just as I got close to the spider, it struck. A barbed tongue, serrated and dripping with bile, shot towards me like a heat-seeking missile. Poor sod didn¡¯t notice the massive fuck-off disintegration sphere I had hovering around me¡ªa sphere that had just cheerfully disintegrated its way through solid stone, carving out a neat little tunnel.


    So, when half its tongue vanished into thin air and it started shrieking like a banshee, losing its grip and toppling onto the spider, I wasn¡¯t the least bit surprised. Now that I was up close, I could see it clearly¡ªno movement from the body, but those ghastly eyes, flickering ever so slightly, and the mandibles twitching as if they were trying, and failing, to move. A paralytic agent, no doubt¡ªprobably from the creepers¡¯ spit or perhaps something nasty in those barbed tongues, keeping it firmly immobilized.


    Yet, a strange fury began to bubble up inside me. I¡¯m all for a good hunt, but there¡¯s a code¡ªa place where one grows stronger from hunting and devouring others. A successful hunt deserves a dignified end. Anything that desecrates the sanctity of life, leaving its prey half-dead in agony, is an affront to the very essence of being a predator. Even monsters deserve mercy and a swift death to conclude the hunt.


    ¡°Barn,¡± I muttered, ¡°think you could take them out while keeping their bodies mostly intact?¡±

 Chapter 26: The Answer

    Barn had a rather peculiar quirk. Whenever he took down anything¡ªor anyone, really¡ªit was, well, a tad excessive. Bodies didn¡¯t just fall; they were flattened, squashed right where they stood. Just this moment, for instance: his disintegration magic shield was floating around me, having just vapourised an entire chunk of the dungeon. Even that blasted tongue of the creeper that dared to attack me? Poof! Gone, without a trace.


    Gold-rank magic was truly terrifying, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake. It¡¯s as if Barn¡¯s repertoire lacked any spells that might at least leave the bodies in a somewhat collectible condition.


    So, I turned to him with a rather reasonable request: could he, perhaps, leave these creeper bodies intact? After all, they were practically a walking treasure trove of morphogen! And, well, I was absolutely full at the moment, though I wouldn¡¯t mind stashing a few bodies for later. His response was three crisp clacks of his jaws, signalling a most agreeable ¡°yes.¡±


    And so, the one-sided hunt began. Barn disappeared from my side, taking on that ominous form behind me once again. By now, I was quite accustomed to the dread that followed his presence. I simply ignored it and focused on the frozen creepers. One by one, they dropped from the ceiling, their grips slackening. It was as if they could sense the same icy dread that real Barn brought with him.


    Even the one that lost its tongue seemed to forget its shrieking, or perhaps it was just too frozen, unable to muster a scream of agony. Then came those three slow, deliberate cackles from Barn¡¯s jaw, followed by two scythe-like black blades erupting from the tunnel¡¯s sides. These blades were something else¡ªso strange that even the hues in my vision seemed to shy away from them.


    What happened next was over in the blink of an eye. One moment, the creepers were struggling in their frozen state, and the next, their heads, limbs, and tails were all neatly sliced apart. I swear on Thalador¡¯s name, I didn¡¯t see a single thing move.


    Yet, there it was¡ªthe spider monster, still in one piece. Barn¡¯s fine control over magic was nothing short of mesmerising. Honestly, I was now itching to know more about these NetherBeasts. What sort of magic did they dabble in? What kind of mysterious paths did they tread? Everything I¡¯d seen from Barn so far was enough to get my curiosity dancing.


    From bubbles of force that could protect or squash, to those inky blades of death, to shields of disintegration, and...umm...cleaning? Perhaps cleaning was a part of the disintegration gig too. The sheer precision¡ªto target just the stuff that needed cleansing¡ªwas enough to give me a proper headache. Were all NetherBeasts magical prodigies like that?


    I shook my head and turned my gaze to the spider monster. Poor little beastie, used as bait for other horrors, paralyzed and still alive. I knew I was amongst monsters, but something about this felt deeply wrong. Not that I was about to give those creepers a lecture on morality.


    The least I could do was offer a bit of mercy and end the creature¡¯s suffering.


    ¡°Barn, if you please, finish off the spider as well.¡± And just like that, its head rolled free, released from its misery. Yet, the bitter taste in my mouth lingered. I closed my eyes and shook my head.


    There were more pressing matters to attend to now.


    ***


    I nimbly clambered up the wall, poking my head through the gap like a nosy cat. And lo and behold, there was Stephan, curled up like a worried hedgehog, hugging his knees as if he might just roll away from the anxiety.


    "Oi, I¡¯m back!" I chirped, shattering the silence.


    "EEP!"


    He practically leapt out of his skin, springing up like a wind-up toy released.


    "JADE!"


    I flashed a grin and waggled a claw through the opening before pulling myself fully through. "Just returned from my little jaunt in the dungeon!"


    He exhaled like he¡¯d been holding his breath for hours. ¡°Oh, thank goodness you¡¯re safe. I was worried sick when you didn¡¯t return. Where on earth have you been?¡±


    Oh, umm, where do I begin¡ªstuck in a sticky mess, thanks to those creepers chasing me. I gave him the Cliff Notes version, explaining how I¡¯d lost my way running away with them.


    "My vision¡¯s a bit... different in this form. I could spot them even when they were camouflaged on the roof," I explained.


    He exhaled deeply and rubbed his eyes. "I¡¯m just glad you made it back in one piece."


    But something was nagging at me. Stephan had helped me count those spider monsters earlier, hadn¡¯t he? Yet there wasn¡¯t a single light source around in this dank tunnel. How on earth was Stephan able to see anything, let alone help me count them?


    Hmm. Well, why not just ask? So I did.


    He looked a bit sheepish. "Well, I can sort of see. It¡¯s dark, but not pitch-black. I just need to focus a bit more, that¡¯s all."


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    "Hoh?"


    Intriguing. Perhaps those odd hues that danced through my vision had something to do with it? They were scattered all over this dungeon¡ªmaybe they were enhancing normal vision too? It seemed plausible, in a weird sort of way.


    "Is something wrong?" Stephan''s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.


    "Ahh, no, nothing. Just curious, that¡¯s all..." I decided to let him off the hook, sparing him from trying to untangle the mystery of the hues. Some things are best left unsolved for now. Besides, I had a more pressing matter to attend to once Barn woke up. And blimey, what a whirlwind these last eight hours had been. I¡¯m sure Lotte would be dying to hear about my little escapade.


    "Right then, I¡¯m knackered. Time for a kip!" I announced, plopping down on the stone floor like it was the softest feather bed.


    Stephan stared at me as if I¡¯d sprouted antlers. "Shouldn¡¯t we be figuring out how to escape? That¡¯s why you went out in the first place, isn¡¯t it?"


    "Later. I¡¯m no good at escaping when I¡¯m half asleep. You should get some rest too. We might have a long day ahead of us."


    "But shouldn¡¯t I keep watch while you sleep?"


    Bah!


    "Don¡¯t fuss about it. We¡¯re probably the safest pair in this whole dungeon right now. Just rest up and stop worrying so much," I said, curling up like a cat settling in for a snooze.


    Stephan looked like he had something on the tip of his tongue, but the words seemed to dissolve before they could reach his lips. Was I doing this all wrong? That¡¯s the second time he¡¯s clammed up like that. Maybe I should just ask him to spill whatever¡¯s on his mind instead of bottling it up. Or perhaps that¡¯s a terrible idea. Ugh, no time for overthinking. Lotte must be eagerly waiting for me.


    Finally, the promise of answers loomed just beyond my dreams.


    I was out like a light within seconds.


    ***


    I¡¯d finally stopped plummeting through the heavens.


    Like, used to be that every time I drifted off to dreamland, I¡¯d find myself tumbling from the sky, as far back as I can remember. But now, with this monstrous new form of mine, I always appear right on the ground¡ªno more freefalling for me.


    Which was ironic, considering I''d sprouted wings¡ªutterly useless, I might add. I gave them a half-hearted flap. Ugh, they¡¯d just have to wait their turn on the to-do list after I¡¯ve sorted out these new peepers.


    Lotte was nearby, her serpentine head resting on a rocky outcrop, eyes glazed over, lost in those threads of hers. I sprang to my feet and flung myself at one of her massive claws, hugging it tightly. The dungeon was terrifying, and last time we barely exchanged words. It felt like an eternity since I¡¯d had her company, and I couldn¡¯t bear the thought of being without her.


    As expected, she sensed my presence.


    ¡°How does it feel?¡± Her voice echoed in my mind.


    I knew exactly what she meant. I hopped away, practically vibrating with excitement. ¡°It¡¯s exhilarating! Thrilling! Knowing that the path to power is this raw, this¡­ straightforward. Not just the progress, but the sheer adrenaline of those battles! Oh, when I pounced on that turtle monster¡­¡± I babbled on, knowing Lotte enjoyed listening. Always had. And I, well, I loved a good ramble.


    I spilled everything¡ªevery little detail of the monsters I¡¯d hunted, the ones I narrowly escaped, the endless wait for Barn to wake up. As terrifying as it all was, a primal part of me was completely in tune with it. Never in a million years did I think I¡¯d feel this way, but here we are.


    Yet, none of this shed any light on the burning question sizzling in my brain: HOW IN THE BLOOMING HECK DID I TURN INTO A MONSTER? And Lotte¡ªoh, she was definitely in on something.


    ¡°So¡ª¡± I started, but before I could finish, an invisible force snatched me up. ¡°Eh?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fully attuned to the intricacies of your mind. Rather than elucidating it in mere words, allow me to show it to you, Jade.¡± Her voice echoed in my mind as the force delicately plonked me onto her back.


    With a thunderous flap of her colossal wings, we were off, soaring into the skies. Soon enough, we arrived at a vast grassland¡ªrolling green as far as the eye could see.


    Lotte touched down with such a thud that the earth quivered beneath her massive form. She turned her gaze in a particular direction, and I followed it.


    There, standing stark against the greenery, was a sapling¡ªif one could even call it that. It was huge, about as tall as human-me, but there was something dreadfully off about it. Instead of a healthy green, its stem was an ominous black, with a texture more akin to metal than any plant. It had only two leaves¡ªor what should¡¯ve been leaves. They were actually segmented metal blades, arranged in a way that vaguely mimicked the shape of leaves.


    And then there were the lights¡ªodd, mismatched colours blinking and flashing at random along its twisted form.


    ¡°What on earth is that?¡± I blurted.


    ¡°That,¡± Lotte began, ¡°is the origin point of the interface you continually encounter. It is also the medium through which I have been communicating with you.¡±


    I blinked and looked at it again, thoroughly baffled.


    ¡°So¡­ this thing¡­ it¡¯s the source of my growing powers?¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± Lotte corrected, huh, was that a hint of amusement? ¡°think of it more as an archivist, not the true source. The power you wield is a manifestation entirely of your own making.¡±


    Once again, I could tell Lotte was making some sort of point, but it still didn¡¯t explain how I¡¯d ended up as a monster.


    ¡°Sooo¡­ this ...gizmo turned me into a monster?¡± I ventured, trying to untangle the mess in my head.


    Lotte¡¯s chuckle rippled through my thoughts. ¡°Oh, my young hatchling, you misunderstand. It¡¯s time you learned the truth¡ªnothing external transformed you into what you are.¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡±


    ¡°Catalogue the runes that captured your attention on that central pillar.¡±


    ¡°Hold on¡ªwhat? That¡¯s out of left field!¡± I groaned, mentally throwing my claws up in frustration. Lotte¡¯s methods, though they had their merits, could be downright infuriating. ¡°Do we really have to go through this rigmarole? Just spill the beans!¡±


    When the silence dragged on, I let out a sigh, hopping off her back and rummaging through my memories. I began listing them on my claws, one by one. Veilo, Echon, Dawn¡­ Bonds¡­ Severin? Argh, most of them were gobbledygook to me, but I could still picture a few shapes.


    ¡°Did you discern a pattern?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Not really. The runes were so intricate, not from Vel¡¯ Tan, their shapes stood out more than their meanings.¡±


    Lotte paused before her voice echoed in my mind again, ¡°It was an Oblivion Seal, just on a colossal scale.¡±


    Now that rang a bell. Oblivion Seals¡ªstandard kit in Enchanting Workshops. They¡¯re the magical ¡®oops button.¡¯ If something went haywire, the seal would halt all magic flow and save the day. Otherwise, kaboom.


    So, a mega-sized version of that? Wait a tick... THE WHITE SHOCKWAVE! The very thing that knocked out every scripted device in that wretched lair! Turned them into lifeless lumps.


    And the same shockwave that¡­ changed me. My brain did a quick somersault. No, no, no¡ªutter nonsense! That was absurd!


    But Lotte wasn¡¯t one for indulging denial. She promptly crushed any hope of my wild guess being wrong.


    ¡°You were never ¡®turned¡¯ into a Dragon, Jade. You merely regressed to your true state¡ªwhat you have always been.¡±

 Chapter 27: The Solution

    The grassland stretched out before me like a never-ending quilt of green, with a neat row of trees standing guard beyond a river that flowed just a hop, skip, and a jump away. Ah, the breeze! Mmm, could you feel it? That gentle caress, so refreshing it could tickle one¡¯s very soul. The water, too, flowed with the sort of serenity that made one want to sigh contentedly.


    But, as always, there was one teensy-weensy detail missing from my dream: a single sign of life, other than me and Lotte. The river flowed, yet not a fish in sight to ripple its surface. The air blew, but not a bird to be seen hitching a ride. And the trees¡ªthere was something off about them too. Never once had I witnessed them grow even the tiniest bit. Odd, yet utterly normal in the peculiar little world of my dreams.


    Today, though, there was something else that stood out like a sore thumb. A giant... metal... sapling, if one could call it that. Its body was obsidian, gleaming, cut at strange angles yet somehow still maintaining a sort of wonky symmetry. From the perch I had on Lotte¡¯s back, it did initially look like a sapling, albeit a very peculiar one.


    But I would be honest¡ªit wasn¡¯t a sapling, now was it? The numerous blades of black metal, masquerading as leaves, looked sharp enough to give a razor a complex. A red dot of light blinked on one of the blades I was eyeing, only to vanish in a flash. I spotted more of those blinks across its odd, angular body.


    How bizarre.


    Utterly bizarre.


    "You are aware, I presume, that evasion of the truth is but a fleeting endeavor. Diversions serve merely as ephemeral sanctuaries for the mind," Lotte¡¯s voice echoed in my thoughts.


    ¡°What on earth are you prattling on about, Lotte? I¡¯m not dodging any truth! I took your words at face value, didn¡¯t I? No point mulling it over now, so no questions, thank you very much!¡± Running from the truth? Me? Never!


    Now, back to this rather captivating metallic sapling. What a marvellous sapling it was! Heh!


    "Jade, love, I fully comprehend your need to assimilate the magnitude of what lies before you, but I implore you to trust me¡ªthis moment is ill-suited for such contemplations."


    That was the last straw for my fragile calm.


    "THEN JUST TELL ME THE BLOODY TRUTH!" I bellowed at Lotte.


    All I got in response was a weary sigh echoing in my mind. "You know I can¡¯t."


    Of course, I knew. I¡¯d always known. My life had been one big, bizarre riddle from the start. A body that couldn¡¯t hold a drop of magic, the lone beast-kin in a city teeming with humans, and these disturbingly vivid dreams that felt more real than reality. And then there was Lotte, herself.


    So much strangeness, yet it all added up to nothing sensible.


    Lotte had the answers, but she was stingy with them. She¡¯d often say that some knowledge was too dangerous to be known. If I happened to stumble upon a piece of such forbidden fruit, all sorts of magic might lead the seekers straight to me. Divination pathways, as I knew them, were the worst culprits. But that was the extent of what I understood.


    Maybe Lotte knew more. Maybe she grasped why this knowledge was so perilous.


    But in that moment, even with all my supposed understanding, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that I¡¯d been lied to my entire life.


    "You could¡¯ve told me sooner," I muttered, "given me time to process all this¡­"


    "The truth is already within you, Jade. Could you have possibly accepted it if I had revealed that beneath the guise of humanity, you were naught but a creature of a far more sinister nature?"


    I wouldn¡¯t have. Who in their right mind would? Even if it was Lotte saying it. I¡¯d been sceptical enough when she¡¯d first hinted that my life was about to do a complete somersault.


    Hah! I let out a sigh as I flopped onto the grass. Half beastie? Heh.. I was a full-blown monster. Funny thing, though, I felt oddly detached about it, like it wasn¡¯t even my problem. Perhaps I just wanted answers for the sheer sake of it, not that I actually fancied knowing why I¡¯d spent my life as some half-and-half creature with a supposed enchantment that shattered a while ago.


    An enchantment! That¡¯s all my half-human side ever was¡ªjust a bit of magic. Nothing more.


    I¡¯d need a considerable amount of time to wrap my head around all this. But, on the bright side, at least I could switch back to my human form if I so wished! All I needed was an unknown amount of mana.


    ¡­.


    Yeah¡­


    Perhaps it was best to shelve this particular conundrum for now and focus on more pressing matters¡ªthe questions that had been bugging me earlier.


    I stood up, gave Lotte a pointed look, and hmphed! Yes, she totally deserved that!


    "Lotte, do you think there''s something peculiar going on with my noggin?" I ventured, rather pleased with my own inquisitive flair.


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    "Could you be a touch more specific?" she replied with that calm pragmatism she always wielded.


    "Well, I feel... different. And not just in the obvious, ''I''ve sprouted scales and wings'' kind of way. Physically, that¡¯s a given. But up here," I tapped my temple dramatically, "that¡¯s where things get truly odd."


    I''ve always had a sharp eye for behavioural shifts in others, so when something went askew in my own head, naturally, I took notice. "Curiosity¡ªit¡¯s like it¡¯s been cranked up to eleven. Ever since I morphed into this dragon-esque version of myself, I¡¯ve been buzzing with this manic energy. Sitting still seems utterly unbearable. I want to explore everything, catalogue every detail, make sense of it all, even if it means landing in a spot of trouble. This drive to know, it¡¯s relentless, Lotte."


    I paused for a moment. "Maybe that¡¯s why I was so desperate to uncover the truth, so much so that I snapped at you." I threw a glance her way, well, I was still feeling a bit prickly. "And you know what? I¡¯m not even sorry! Hmph!"


    Lotte was listening intently, bless her. But I realised I hadn''t quite posed an actual question¡ªwhat I was really after was some semblance of normality, because this much curiosity couldn¡¯t possibly be good for one''s health! ¡°So, is it normal for dragons?¡±


    Maybe this was just the way dragons were wired.


    ¡°No, you might be a bit unique in that respect.¡± Lotte, ever the destroyer of my dreams of normalcy, dashed my hopes once again. Brilliant.


    ¡°And what about these scattered thoughts of mine? They¡¯re darting off in ten directions at once! Surely that¡¯s connected!¡±


    "Should I venture a hypothesis, I might suggest that it is the discord between your human sophistication and the naivet¨¦ of your draconic instincts. Yet, let us not deceive ourselves, Jade¡ªyou have always been inclined towards a certain degree of mental disarray."


    Oof. She could¡¯ve skipped that last bit.


    ¡°Umm, what about that ravenous, hollow hunger I felt after eating that first monster? I even seem to have a touch of amnesia about the whole ordeal.¡±


    "The explanation is rather elementary. Consider it thusly: for eighteen years, your body was in a state of perpetual deprivation. The brief thirty-minute mission assigned to you was merely a survival mechanism, an expedient to ensure your continued existence by providing just sufficient sustenance to endure until your inaugural, bona fide hunt. It was starvation, driven to its most extreme extent."


    She summed it up perfectly, but good heavens, the thought was horrifying. This dragon body of mine had been famished for a whole 18 years. Good grief.


    And that reminds me of something I¡¯ve been pondering.


    "Do all monsters have a system like mine?" I asked, not that I had the faintest clue. I doubted anyone in the empire did, either. We all knew monsters grew, but how exactly? A system helping them along? Never in my wildest imaginings did I think that.


    "Yes, the very same as yours," Lotte confirmed.


    I¡¯d suspected as much, but hearing it from her was something else entirely.


    "Ha! Their way of progressing is quite something, isn¡¯t it? So... primal, so very, very raw. It¡¯s all hunt this, devour that¡ªno faffing about with magic pathways and core cultivation or chasing enlightenment for every advancement."


    "Yet, one route offers the security of steadfast certainty, while the other revels in the unmitigated tumult of absolute chaos."


    Couldn''t argue with that.


    "Heh, can you even imagine if humans had a system like that?"


    "Oh, they did once possess it, until it was most unceremoniously wrested from their grasp."


    I was just about to let that slide when¡ªhold on a tick¡ªWHAT?


    "Humans had THE SAME SYSTEM?!"


    "Not precisely identical, but certainly within a comparable realm. Humans, Elves, Dwarves¡ªthe entirety of their kind once held it, until their insatiable avarice led to its inevitable confiscation."


    ...


    "This sounds suspiciously like the sort of forbidden knowledge you were so determined to keep from me." And honestly, the way that little bombshell landed, it certainly felt like it.


    "Technically, it isn¡¯t expressly forbidden. However, before you indulge in an eager ''Elucidate, I insist,'' I must refrain. Any further knowledge would swiftly attract the relentless scrutiny of the Keepers of History, descending upon you with alarming alacrity¡ªwell before you could utter a hasty ¡®oops-a-daisy.¡¯"


    Tsk, probably better left in the dark then. Whoever these ¡®Keepers of History¡¯ were, they didn¡¯t sound like a bunch you¡¯d want to invite round for tea.


    But something was still niggling at me.


    "Why even tell me, then? You could¡¯ve easily left that bit out, and I¡¯d be none the wiser."


    "Because when I advise you to avoid human, elven, and dwarven settlements as though they were the very embodiment of pestilence, I would prefer you refrain from regarding me as if I¡¯ve taken leave of my senses."


    Even now, I was still a tad bewildered. "Why¡¯s that, then?"


    "You could find yourself assigned to a mission akin to the previous one, but this time, survival would not be the objective. Instead, it would entail orchestrating utter bedlam¡ªgenocide, chaos, discord¡ªthe full spectrum of devastation."


    ...


    "WHAT?!"


    "Not a matter to fret over just yet. It won¡¯t activate in the presence of any beast kin. However, allow me to be unequivocal: the ¡­system harbours an intense abhorrence for those three species. As to why, you inquire? Once again, I¡¯m not at liberty to divulge such particulars. And it¡¯s a mutual animosity. Jade, dear, under no circumstances should you reveal that you are a ¡®Dragon.¡¯ Keep that piece of information securely hidden within the depths of your interface, and for heaven¡¯s sake, let it remain concealed."


    Was it just me, or did she hesitate before saying ¡®system¡¯?


    But there was something in her voice that set my hackles right on end. ¡°Is it really that dangerous?¡± What was I even thinking, of course it was! Lotte¡¯s tone said it all.


    "Indeed. There exists a reason why the name of our species has been expunged from the annals of history, along with a multitude of other truths."


    Her response was crisp, just enough to convey the gravity of the situation without tipping me into hot water.


    Message received loud and clear: No prancing about telling everyone I¡¯m a dragon. Easy peasy. Not that I was planning to shout it from the rooftops anyway. My brain felt positively pickled with all the new information, but I craved more¡ªoh, I needed to fill those gaps.


    But before I could even open my mouth for another question, Lotte¡¯s voice cut through the fog in my mind. "Before we allow ourselves to meander off course, there is a matter of considerable urgency that requires our attention¡ªyour impending evolution..."


    Oh, right! That little detail. ¡°Yes, you mentioned not to kick it off, and I¡¯ve been a good little dragon, I didn¡¯t.¡±


    "I am acutely aware of your longing for a taste of magic, and I anticipated that the slightest hint of an evolution offering even a modicum of it would entice you. But resist the urge. Monsters channel their magic in an entirely different manner¡ªthey project mana directly from their core, rather than manipulating the delicate mana veins that humans possess. This fundamentally restricts their magical capabilities, and once you evolve, that limitation becomes irrevocable."


    Wait, what? So if I evolved that way, I''d be bollocksing up my own spellcasting before I even got mana? Oh, that¡¯s just brilliant.


    "I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ve got a plan, then?"


    "Naturally, I do."

 Chapter 28: FOR MAGIC!

    My claws danced along the riverside, tracing out a peculiar little doodle that Lotte had shown me earlier¡ªa doodle that, apparently, was my golden ticket to sprouting mana veins, even as a monster. Lotte, meanwhile, had wandered off for a chinwag with Barn. Poor snake looked like he was about to shed his skin¡ªor, um, bones¡ªfrom sheer terror when Lotte plucked him from the waking world and plopped him straight into dreamland.


    I almost felt bad for him. It would¡¯ve been nice to give him a heads-up, not that I had the foggiest idea Lotte could pull off a stunt like that. Still, what on earth was all that about? I would¡¯ve given my left claw to eavesdrop on that convo.


    But no, it was probably one of those ¡°off-limits¡± chats I wasn¡¯t supposed to hear.


    Ugh, it was driving me absolutely barmy! The suspense was practically gnawing at my scales. Mark my words, one day I would grow so mighty that Lotte would spill all her secrets to me!


    But first things first. Lotte had already shown me this image, but I always found that scribbling things down helped cement them in my memory. Old habit. That¡¯s how I managed to recognize most of the basic spell structures of the Winter Salamander Path, even though I¡¯d never had the chance to actually use them.


    I squinted at the doodle of the creature I was sketching. Hmm, the clawed fingers were slightly bent at the tips, ending in a sharp slash. Yes, that seemed about right. I carried on, letting my thoughts wander.


    Mana veins¡ªwell, as the name suggests, everyone¡¯s born with them. Everyone except us monsters, that is. Humans, by cultivating mana through these veins, gradually nurture their cores. At first, this core was as black as pitch and not much sturdier than a wisp of smoke. But as they delved deeper into their chosen [Magic Paths], their core grew with them¡ªdenser, more vibrant, shifting colours from black to grey to yellow, to red, and finally to the grand mastery of gold.


    As their cores matured, not only did they become more potent, holding more mana, but they also sharpened their spellcasting prowess. Their bodies got a bit tougher too, though not by much if they were sticking strictly to a magical path.


    The [Path of Winter Salamander], practiced in Randall and Alcoa, was an illusion magic path, but it didn¡¯t stop there. It was a mixed path where one not only refined their mana veins but also built up their physical strength, creating formidable battle mages.


    On the other hand, the [Path of the Flame Vixen] was a purely magical path, where practitioners couldn¡¯t bolster their physical strength, leaving them rather frail but with magic so powerful it could leave you breathless. They were pure casters, through and through.


    The crux of the matter was that this was how humans grew, becoming more powerful and precise in their spellcasting as they evolved. I¡¯d always fancied that sort of thing. Not just blasting out mana for various effects like us monsters did, but actually crafting spells, fine-tuning them, exploring different magical paths. Sure, it was practically impossible to master more than one path, but a dragon could dream, couldn¡¯t she? My curiosity was insatiable, and honestly, it still is¡ªbut that¡¯s neither here nor there.


    I put the finishing touches on my doodle¡ªperfect! Lotte had called this creature a Valar Rat, one of the rare monsters that had something akin to mana veins. These little critters boasted a second set of physical veins that circulated mana instead of blood. These veins were smaller and connected to their core after their third evolution, giving them the ability to wield magic in a more refined way, rather than just spraying mana around like a fire hose.


    As I devoured more and more monsters, there was a chance that some part of their anatomy¡ªan organ, a feature, what have you¡ªmight be offered to me during my evolution, depending on how well it meshed with my own body.


    Lotte was dead certain that if I gobbled up enough Valar Rats, I¡¯d almost certainly be gifted these mana veins. After all, a dragon¡¯s body was meant to be the most adaptable of all. The more I feasted on their kind, the better my chances of acquiring this precious organ. And of course, I needed it.


    Just as I was getting lost in my thoughts, I felt a familiar scuttle on my wrist. Ah, finally! Whatever chat Barn had been having with Lotte seemed to be wrapped up. I glanced at him¡ªstill trembling like a leaf caught in a gale, his wide, fake eyes pleading with me to get us out of here pronto. Poor Barn, Lotte must have been his personal bogeyman.


    And right on cue...


    ¡°You might want to hear this, Jade,¡± Lotte¡¯s voice echoed inside my noggin.


    Something was off in her tone, so naturally, my curiosity was piqued. ¡°Alright, spill the beans,¡± I said, standing up from the riverside and turning to face Lotte, who was lazily sprawled out on the grass like she owned the place. Which she probably did.


    ¡°Barn¡¯s time with you is running out,¡± she declared.


    I¡­ wasn¡¯t exactly gobsmacked. After all, there was a reason Lotte insisted on that clause, and I¡¯d let Barn break it. Still though.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I asked. I was curious.


    "The timeline I initially provided was predicated on how long Barn could sustain his presence by depleting his chaos reserves. However, when he devoured those souls, his body instinctively initiated the metamorphosis process. He was teetering on the brink of a breakthrough, and that small indulgence you permitted him provided the impetus he required."


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing he ended up burning through more chaos than planned?¡±


    "Precisely."


    Well, at least I was mostly out of mortal peril. Still, it had felt pretty darn good to have him around, all powerful and whatnot.


    ¡°How much time does he have left?¡±


    "Approximately half a day, more or less."


    A smidge less than I was hoping for. But well done, Jade! That¡¯s how you flushed your own blessings straight down the loo.


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    "He¡¯ll exert every effort to assist until the moment he makes his exit." She shot a sharp look at my wrist¡ªwas that a stink eye aimed at Barn? He trembled and slithered further up my leg, trying to avoid her gaze. "And do not overlook what I mentioned regarding evolution."


    Oh, I hadn¡¯t forgotten. My first evolution needed to be a bit of a sacrificial lamb, but blimey, the perks it would bring!


    "Bear in mind, if any evolution option even alludes to the Sun or Light, it will be immensely powerful¡ªlethally so. But do not allow yourself to be seduced by its allure."


    ¡°Ay ay, Captain Lotte!¡± I chirped, giving a cheeky clawed salute as the dream world began to fade, reality¡¯s pesky tendrils pulling me back. My eyes fluttered open to a riot of obnoxiously bright colours. Good grief! I squinted, ever so slowly, letting my eyes adjust to the blinding brilliance.


    I spotted Stephan curled up in a corner, fast asleep¡ªbless him, he actually took my advice. Best to let him catch some well-deserved Zs.


    Barn scurried up my wrist, his tiny beady fake eyes twinkling with all the relief of a pint-sized gremlin.


    ¡°Shall we begin, then?¡± I whispered, careful not to disturb Stephan.


    Barn¡¯s reply was the faint sound of bones knitting together. ¡°Let¡¯s.¡±


    ***


    Step one was a doddle, really¡ªjust gorge myself until I could barely move! The more achievements I had, the more evolutionary options would pop up, like some kind of reward system. Lotte had mentioned there¡¯s a specific achievement for eating so much that I¡¯m teetering on the brink of bursting like an overinflated balloon.


    And that''s exactly what I needed.


    [Morphogen source assimilated.]


    [Morphogens acquired: +18.]


    Just a little perk of the process.


    I flopped back with a rather unceremonious thud. I simply couldn¡¯t continue. My stomach was stretched so taut, ah, it felt as though the seams of my very being were threatening to unravel, leaving me in a grotesque explosion of scales and innards. Oh, the horror.


    But alas, four more of those ghastly creepers remained. I cast a wary glance at my bloated, scaly belly¡ªdear heavens, this had better be worth it.


    With a resigned sigh, I reached for another severed limb, this one from the second creeper¡¯s clawed hand. The mere thought of it made my insides revolt. I didn¡¯t want to do it, I really didn¡¯t.


    SHUT UP, JADE, DO IT FOR THE MAGIC!


    So, with a face twisted in a snarl, I bit down viciously. More. I had to consume more.


    The discomfort was a mere hiccup, a fleeting nuisance compared to the everlasting glory of magic¡ªoh, the magic.


    Then it struck me¡ªI¡¯d gained 12 morphogens from just one creeper! Normally, I¡¯d only get 2 from a first-stage evolution creature, then 6 from that pesky beetle bug in its second stage. Three times the increase with each stage, I reckoned.


    These creepers must be third-stage monsters, tripling the usual haul. So, with a grimace and a groan, I gobbled up each grisly piece of the second creeper. Torturous? Absolutely. But ahh, the magic... Even if I burst like an overripe melon, I¡¯d keep going.


    Magic.


    Magic.


    The word echoed in my mind, a relentless chant, louder with each bite. I was so close now, I could taste it. I wanted it. I needed it. So desperately, so achingly.


    [Morphogen source assimilated.]


    [Morphogens acquired: +18.]


    At long last, the second creeper was done for. I swear, I could feel the food stacked up to my very throat, teetering on the brink of eruption. But with legs trembling like a newborn foal, I dragged myself towards the third creeper. Without so much as a second thought, I seized its severed head and sank my teeth right into its lifeless maw.


    Magic.


    The pain in my stomach was unbearable, a fiery inferno, but I couldn¡¯t stop. I wouldn¡¯t stop.


    For Magic.


    ***


    Name: Jade


    Level: 5


    Species: Dragon Hatchling (I)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 15


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 12


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 30


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 17


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 0/0


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 14/14


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Claw Swipe: Level 4 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Stealth: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crunch: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Quick Dash: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes: +4


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws: +1


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales: +1


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 2


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 73


    </li>


    </ul>


    I¡¯d left the last one be. Oh, Thalador, I simply couldn¡¯t muster the strength anymore. The adrenaline, which I¡¯d whipped up for that longing of magic, had fizzled out, and now I was marinating in pure regret.


    The pain was simply unbearable, and I felt like I might just pop like an overstuffed sausage at any moment. Moving? Ha! Not a chance. I was utterly incapacitated, so I resigned myself to lying flat on my back and summoned up my status screen.


    I did try to use ''crunch'' on their lifeless corpses, but alas, it turned out I couldn''t snag any skill upgrades by using it on dead monsters.


    Still, I¡¯d managed to scrape together a whopping 73 morphogens. Quite chuffed about that, though there was a niggling sense of dread about what was coming next.


    Of course, of course, I¡¯d need to put them to good use. And as if the current torment wasn¡¯t enough¡ªmy stomach was still waging a full-blown rebellion¡ªI reckoned a bit more discomfort wouldn¡¯t hurt. Well, not much, anyway. A quick mental tally revealed that I could fully maximise five body parts with the morphogens I¡¯d collected.


    [Skill Points may be allocated to acquire new skills or enhance existing ones.]


    [Morphogens may be expended to mutate physical attributes.]


    Skills available for acquisition:


    Crush Claw: Requires 1 SP. Augments claw precision and impact force.


    Select a mutation:


    Eyes +5: Improve visual processing and targeting accuracy. (Unlock advancement.)


    Wings +1: Reinforce wings to enhance flight performance.


    Legs +1: Augment leg power and maneuverability.


    Claws +2: Upgrade claws for increased lethality.


    Scales +2: Fortify scales for superior defensive capabilities.


    Fire Gland +1: Enhance fire gland for elevated internal mana input.


    It appeared I could unlock advancements at +5. A bit of mental arithmetic told me I¡¯d need 28 morphogens to bring my claws and scales to the this advancement, and another 30 for both legs and wings. If I tossed in 5 more for the eyes, that would leave me with a tidy 10 left over.


    As for the fire gland, well, it wouldn¡¯t be much use until my third evolution, so I could safely ignore it... at least for now. Still, a little voice in my head whispered that perhaps upgrading it to +4 wouldn¡¯t be the worst idea.


    Hmm, sounded like a plan.


    But hold on a tick, could I just skip ahead and upgrade straight from +1 to +5? I quickly scanned the screen, hoping for some sort of shortcut. But no such luck. It looked like I¡¯d have to endure the agony of every single upgrade individually.


    With a deep mental sigh, I clicked through the options, and up popped another screen.


    Would you like to use 12 Morphogens to upgrade your eyes, claws, scales, wings, legs, and fire gland?


    This time, I didn¡¯t hesitate. With a mental click, I accepted, closing my eyes and bracing myself for the onslaught of pain.

 Chapter 29: Advancements

    Name: Jade


    Level: 5


    Species: Dragon Hatchling (I)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 15


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 12


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 30


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 17


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 0/0


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 14/14


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Claw Swipe: Level 4 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Stealth: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crunch: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Quick Dash: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes: +5 (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws: +5 (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales: +5 (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings +5 (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs +5 (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland +4


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 2


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 0


    </li>


    </ul>


    I wheezed like an asthmatic accordion, my chest puffing up and down in a rather undignified manner. The stomach ache still loitered about, but that was just the warm-up act¡ªwhat really had me cringing was the encore of phantom pain. Torture, that was, in every conceivable sense of the word.


    Imagine thousands of needles deciding to redecorate the insides of one¡¯s eyeballs¡ªyes, precisely as delightful as it sounds. Then, just when one thought their legs and wings were safe, something tore through them, shredding them to pieces from inside, only to rebuild them into a new and improved model.


    The claws grew out, painfully of course, sharper and deadlier than ever, and don¡¯t even get me started on the fire gland¡ªit was as if my very heart had decided to stage a melodramatic exit.


    And this delightful process? Not once, not twice, but five agonising times I had the pleasure. This pain, this unwelcome pain, still lingered in the recesses of my mind, a part of me terrified it might pop in for a surprise visit. But no, I shook my head and closed my eyes. Best get used to it.


    Because, this wasn¡¯t going to be the last time, was it?


    Barn was off on the task I¡¯d sent him on. Time wasn¡¯t exactly on our side, so he¡¯d be assisting me in battling through the inevitable weakness that came with my second evolution. The aim? To push through and finally reach that coveted third magical evolution.


    I eyed the tunnel I¡¯d unceremoniously sprawled myself across, like a bloated turtle on its back, belly bulging. The hues danced around me lazily, like a rainbow-coloured fog mocking the chubby dragon flopped on the floor.


    Good heavens, this was mortifying!


    If only I could just hurl up the contents of my stomach¡ªsince I¡¯d already gained Morphogen, after all. But who knew if it would still work? Would I even manage to vomit at all? It felt like it, but frankly, I wasn¡¯t in any rush to test the theory.


    Yet, there was progress! My wingspan had definitely increased, though I doubted I could fly, or even move, in this rotund state. Even my leg muscles had tightened; they felt stronger. And those claws¡ªoh, heavens, they were terrifyingly sharp! I had to keep them well away from myself, lest I accidentally skewered my own hide.


    Ah, there were their advancements too¡ªbrilliant! All except for the odd one out, the Fire Gland, still lagging behind.


    Hmm. My gaze shifted.


    I couldn¡¯t help but cast a glance at the final creeper¡¯s remains.


    No, Jade, don¡¯t even go there!


    But then again... what if there was an achievement for advancing every single one of my organs as well? Besides, I¡¯d keep accumulating Morphogen with each tasty morsel, so perhaps just a nibble here and there would grant me the five Morphogens I needed.


    With a clench of my claws, I shoved the ground to one side, attempting to flip over, but the moment my bloated belly smacked against the earth, a searing pain shot through my innards. Yet, I kept my eye on the stat screen hovering beside me. Ah, I must be losing my marbles, but I didn¡¯t hesitate¡ªI began crawling towards the last creeper with a manic fervour. Just a few more bites, a smidge more Morphogen. Haha..


    This time, I kept the notification screen open, ready to witness my progress. Every three massive chomps into its torso triggered a delightful series of pop-ups:


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    [Morphogen source assimilated.]


    [Morphogens acquired: +1.]


    More bites!


    [Morphogens acquired: +1.]


    Yes, MORE!


    [Morphogens acquired: +1.]


    [Morphogens acquired: +1.]


    [Morphogens acquired: +1.]


    By the time I¡¯d practically devoured its entire torso, I¡¯d gathered all five points. Hah. Hahahaha¡ªouch! Even laughing felt like I was being trampled by a herd of particularly vicious Rustanges.


    I flipped back over, settling into the far more comfortable position of being upside down. Now, time to give that Fire Gland a proper upgrade too.


    [Skill Points may be allocated to acquire new skills or enhance existing ones.]


    [Morphogens may be expended to mutate physical attributes.]


    Skills available for acquisition:


    Crush Claw: Requires 1 SP. Augments claw precision and impact force.


    Select a mutation:


    Eyes +5: Improve visual processing and targeting accuracy. (Advancement Unlocked.)


    Wings +5: Reinforce wings to enhance flight performance. (Advancement Unlocked.)


    Legs +5: Augment leg power and maneuverability. (Advancement Unlocked.)


    Claws +5: Upgrade claws for increased lethality. (Advancement Unlocked.)


    Scales +5: Fortify scales for superior defensive capabilities. (Advancement Unlocked.)


    Fire Gland +5: Enhance fire gland for elevated internal mana input. (Unlocks Advancement.)


    Aha! Just as I suspected¡ªI couldn¡¯t pour any more Morphogen into my body parts before unlocking their advancements. But first things first, I needed to max out that Fire Gland.


    Would you like to use 5 Morphogens to upgrade your Fire Gland?


    With a mental nod of assent, the torment began. The agony was exquisite, deep within my throat yet somehow above my stomach, as if a thousand tiny blades were shredding my insides, only to stitch them back together in the most excruciating fashion. But, as always, the torment subsided soon enough. I let out a deep sigh, craning my serpentine neck to survey my surroundings.


    Barn hadn¡¯t returned yet, and in my current state¡ªwhere even breathing was a Herculean task¡ªI wasn¡¯t exactly in danger, not with the knowledge that I could summon him at a moment¡¯s notice. Thankfully, no monstrous intruders had appeared in this little tunnel, and I hoped it stayed that way. Barn had important work to do, after all, and his time was precious.


    I decided to fix my gaze on the screen once more. Every single organ now had an advancement option available. Marvelous! Time to go through them, one by one.


    First up: the eyes. A brand-new screen flickered into view...


    Eyes +5 Advancement Options


    Choose one of the following:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Sharp Vision: Increases visual acuity and distance, enabling the user to detect details from extended ranges. Suitable for scouting or precision targeting.


    </li>


    <li>


    Adaptive Sight: Automatically adjusts the user''s vision to varying light levels, from complete darkness to intense brightness, without delay or discomfort.


    </li>


    <li>


    Compound Eyes: Incorporates additional lenses into the user''s eyes, improving depth perception and expanding the field of view, beneficial for detecting movement.


    </li>


    <li>


    Focusing Lenses: Enhances the user''s ability to quickly transition focus between near and distant objects, optimizing reaction time and precision in dynamic settings.


    </li>


    </ul>


    Oh, yiss, four upgrades to mull over¡ªthis ought to be fun!


    I sifted through them one by one, noting that none seemed to address those peculiar hues that danced about in my vision. Strange, that. These upgrades appeared more on the¡­ biological side of things. So, those hues weren¡¯t part of my biology? How curious. I must remember to ask Lotte about this later¡ªtsk, can¡¯t believe I let that one slip by!


    But no matter, I had choices to make, and all four upgrades were rather tempting.


    Right-o, time for a proper chinwag with myself about these upgrades. Each one had its own little sparkle, but I needed something that would give me the upper hand when the fur started flying. I gave them a good once-over while I still had a tick before Barn came back.


    First up, Sharp Vision. Ooh, now that¡¯s a bit tasty, hehe. Spotting the teeniest of details from a distance? Absolutely smashing for scouting out enemies before they even caught a whiff of me, or nailing a bullseye from miles away¡ªif I ever picked up a ranged ability or spell, that is.


    But umm, how often would I be perched up on a hilltop, squinting at the horizon, especially when I was usually mucking about in these dungeon tunnels? Most of my scrapes had been more up-close-and-personal, so perhaps this one wasn¡¯t quite the ticket.


    Next, there was Adaptive Sight! Now, this one had me intrigued. My peepers had already been getting used to those hues around me. At first, I could barely open my eyes, but as they upgraded, I started seeing clearer. Now, at Eyes +5, those hues were barely more than a mild bother. But oh, I still remembered that run-in with the Sap river¡ªgood heavens, that had been brighter than a whole sun during midday, even for my +4 eyes at the time. The hues could still trip me up, but choosing this might just put that to bed. I mentally flagged it as a top contender and pressed on.


    Then there were Compound Eyes. Hmm, adding extra lenses to my eyes? Boosting depth perception and widening my field of view? I mulled it over for a bit. It could be cracking for spotting sneaky shenanigans from all directions. It was like having eyes in the back of my head¡ªwell, almost, but that was the gist of it! But with most of the action happening right in front of me, did I really need to see everything all at once? Might be a bit much for the old brain box to handle in the thick of it.


    And lastly, Focusing Lenses. The moment I read the description, I knew this could be a real lifesaver in a fast-paced brawl. Being able to snap focus from what was right under my nose to what was further off? That was proper nimble, that was. Well, not that I was exactly sprightly at the moment, but it was perfect for timing a Quick Dash¡ªdodge a close-range attack while keeping an eye on the bigger picture. This one was all about reaction time and precision.


    In the end, it was a tight race between Adaptive Sight and Focusing Lenses. Adaptive Sight would sort out the only real drawback these hues had, while Focusing Lenses would make me sharper in combat.


    But, with each eye upgrade, my eyes were already getting more adaptive to the hues, so maybe future upgrades would keep that ball rolling without needing to commit to it now. And I wouldn¡¯t be gaining anything truly new.


    Right, decision made¡ªFocusing Lenses it was. I couldn¡¯t pass it up. It sounded like just the ticket, especially if I got mobbed by monsters; it could be a real game-changer, might even save my bacon in a pinch. With a quick mental command, I locked it in.


    Oh bollocks, I forgot about the pai¡ªNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!


    ***


    As soon as the pain fizzled out and I dared to crack open my eyes, I knew something had changed. The irritating hues had mellowed out even more, thanks to this nifty upgrade, but it was the way I could focus that truly blew my mind! I shifted my gaze around, peering into that pesky tunnel hole up in the top right corner, and then straightened my sight to my claw at the other end. My eyes were constantly on the move, but the transition was smooth! Oh so smooth!


    All in all, I was chuffed to bits. Brilliant!


    Right then, onto the next upgrade!


    I still had four organs to tinker with!


    Next on the list, I pulled up the wings upgrade.


    Wings +5 Advancement Options


    Choose one of the following:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Feathered Wings: Modifies the user''s wings with feathers to increase aerodynamic efficiency, allowing for quieter and more controlled flight.


    </li>


    <li>


    Hollow Bones: Lightens the structure of the user''s bones without reducing strength, enhancing agility and reducing energy expenditure during flight.


    </li>


    <li>


    Improved Membranes: Enhances the flexibility and durability of the user''s wing membranes, improving maneuverability and resistance to damage.


    </li>


    <li>


    Air Sacs: Develops additional air sacs in the user''s body, improving air storage and reducing fatigue during prolonged flight.


    </li>


    <li>


    Wing Muscles: Strengthens the muscles attached to the user''s wings, increasing wingbeat power and endurance for longer, sustained flight.


    </li>


    </ul>


    Honestly, I¡¯d yet to get a taste of the joys of flight, and I was absolutely itching to give it a whirl. I could already feel the raw power humming in my upgraded wings, far from the feeble things they used to be. But, it seemed a tad premature to take to the skies with my poor, sore, bloated belly still in a state.


    Ah well, soon enough.


    Ahhh, the very thought of soaring through the sky!


    Now, which upgrade to plump for?

 Chapter 30: Advancements 2

    First up, Feathered Wings. A bit of a twist, eh? Adding feathers for that more aerodynamic pizzazz? Quite the clever idea, though a few of the terms sounded like they were plucked straight out of my... dreamland dictionary. But no time for wool-gathering, Jade, keep your noggin in the game! I just understood the terms, and that was all that mattered!


    The gist of it? A quieter, more refined flight, like a proper bird of prey¡ªswooping down all stealthy-like when the baddies least expected it.


    Although, I must admit, I was a bit befuddled about how this would play out in a dungeon. They did tend to get more cavernous as one went deeper, but to what extent, I hadn¡¯t the foggiest. So, feathers? Hmm, not sure about that. I was rather fond of my current wings¡ªsmooth, slick, and jet-black.


    Next on the list, Hollow Bones. A cunning idea, lightening the load without compromising on strength. It would certainly make me more sprightly in the air, conserving energy that would otherwise be frittered away just to stay aloft. Not that I planned on extended flights at this juncture.


    And another thing, it seemed like every single option had something to do with reducing my stamina consumption. What was the deal with that? With only 14 points of stamina in the bank, I was left scratching my head over how much a bit of airborne derring-do would set me back.


    No matter, I¡¯d sort it out in due course. But a fleeting thought nagged at me¡ªwouldn¡¯t lighter bones make me more fragile? Apparently not, or so the description assured me. I¡¯d be lighter, more agile, and frankly, it seemed like an upgrade that would never stop pulling its weight, so to speak!


    Next up, Improved Membranes. Now, enhancing the flexibility and toughness of my wing membranes¡ªthat was more like it! Better maneuverability and sturdier wings? Just the thing for dodging attacks and squeezing through tight spots, especially in these blasted tunnels. Plus, less fretting about tearing them up in a scrap. A well-rounded and efficient choice for someone of my ilk!


    Then there were Air Sacs¡ªintriguing, to be sure. Extra air storage and less puffing and panting during long flights? Hmm, didn¡¯t quite do it for me, though. Skip that one too, for now.


    Lastly, Wing Muscles. Stronger wing muscles for more power and endurance on longer flights. Ideal if I planned on flitting about endlessly, which I most certainly did not.


    But still, more oomph behind each wingbeat, staying aloft longer, zipping about faster, and maybe even lugging a bit more weight? Tempting, but I had my heart set on something else.


    So, it came down to a toss-up between Improved Membranes and Hollow Bones. Both, frankly, were cracking options. But the more I pondered, the more I leaned towards Hollow Bones. Perhaps I was feeling a bit on the heavy side at the moment, but if I got any bulkier, Hollow Bones might just be the trick to keep me light on my feet¡ªor wings, rather.


    Right then, decision made! Hollow Bones it was! I locked it in with a mental command and braced myself. The pain came, but I was ready for it! After a good bit of cursing the heavens and writhing about pitifully, the pain finally eased off.


    Wasting not a moment, I pulled up the next advancement. I had to be quicker¡ªBarn would be here any minute now!


    Legs +5 Advancement Options


    Choose one of the following:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Spring Tendons: Enhances the elasticity of the user''s leg tendons, increasing jumping height and improving landing absorption.


    </li>


    <li>


    Muscle Density: Increases muscle density in the user''s legs, enhancing strength for both sprinting and endurance activities.


    </li>


    <li>


    Foot Pads: Modifies the pads of the user''s feet to improve traction and grip, providing greater stability on slippery or uneven surfaces.


    </li>


    <li>


    Joint Flexibility: Enhances the flexibility of the user''s joints, reducing injury risk and allowing for more agile and precise movements.


    </li>


    <li>


    Circulatory Boost: Improves blood flow to the user''s legs, enabling quicker recovery from exertion and reducing fatigue during prolonged activity.


    </li>


    </ul>


    I zipped through the options as usual¡ªno dilly-dallying, of course. But this time, I was quick as a flash! There was only one criterion that mattered: what would best bolster my burgeoning skills? As a close-combat maestro¡ªa warrior dragon (at least for now), no less¡ªI needed something that would enhance my physical prowess.


    The wings upgrade was the eureka moment that made me opt for the Hollow Bones option. Spring Tendons? Pah! Too much of a harebrained idea for my liking. As amusing as the thought of bouncing around like a deranged bunny was, it didn¡¯t quite jive with my other skills.


    Muscle Density¡ªnow there¡¯s a straightforward proposition! More muscle, more power. Simple as pie. I decided to keep that one on the back burner for now.


    Foot Pads, though¡­ well, they were intriguing. Better grip on dodgy surfaces meant more stability. But did it truly pack a punch? I wasn¡¯t convinced.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Joint Flexibility, on the other hand, had a really neat synergy with my Claw Swipe skill. Flexibility, agility, precision¡ªwhat¡¯s not to love? A rather solid contender for now.


    Circulatory Boost promised better blood flow to my legs, which meant quicker recovery and less fatigue. But to be honest, I wasn¡¯t exactly planning on any marathon battles.


    My talents lay in swift, sneaky takedowns, not in drawn-out slugfests.


    So, the choice boiled down to Muscle Density or Joint Flexibility. One was pure strength¡ªsimple, effective, no frills. The other offered versatility and reduced the risk of injuries in this blasted dungeon. In the end, I went with Joint Flexibility!


    I locked in the choice with a mental command, and then¡­ oh, the agony! Once again, it was an excruciating transformation. My legs twisted and contorted in a torrent of pain. It felt like an eternity, but as usual, the whole wretched ordeal was over in less than half a minute.


    The moment it ended, I flexed them with gusto¡ªwoohoo! I could practically feel those tendons gliding over my joints as if they were on a merry slide. The added flexibility was really visible, allowing for a more impressive range of motion.


    But there I was, lying flat on my back like a hapless turtle, so no grand experiments today.


    Besides, I had more pressing matters to attend to.


    Hmm, next up was¡­ Claws!


    Claws +5 Advancement Options


    Choose one of the following:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Keratin Reinforcement: Enhances the hardness and durability of the user''s claws, increasing resistance to wear and maintaining sharpness over extended periods.


    </li>


    <li>


    Retractable Claws: Implements a mechanism allowing the user to retract claws when not in use, preserving their sharpness and preventing damage.


    </li>


    <li>


    Claw Flexibility: Improves the flexibility and control of the user''s claws, enabling more precise and varied movements in combat or during manipulation.


    </li>


    <li>


    Nerve Sensitivity: Augments nerve sensitivity in the user''s claws, enhancing the ability to detect textures and surfaces, beneficial for climbing or performing delicate tasks.


    </li>


    <li>


    Claw Sheaths: Introduces protective sheaths for the user''s claws, minimizing the risk of injury or damage when not engaged in combat.


    </li>


    </ul>


    First up was Keratin Reinforcement. The name said it all, didn¡¯t it? Durability, of course. Toughening up the old claws so they¡¯d remain as sharp and sturdy as a blacksmith¡¯s finest blade. And by the looks of it, they¡¯d stay in tip-top shape even after a bit of wear and tear. Quite the appealing option, especially since monster maintenance kits would likely be in short supply in these parts. Heh. If I were to be slicing and dicing through enemies willy-nilly, having claws that could survive the carnage would be invaluable.


    Next was Retractable Claws. How terribly practical! Being able to tuck them away when not in use, preserving them from unnecessary wear. I was still a fledgling hunter¡ªonly four monsters under my belt. A hapless spider, a fresh-out-the-dungeon-soil turtle, and two more bug beasts that didn¡¯t know what hit them. So, my claws were still in mint condition. Still, this option felt more like a handy feature than a proper upgrade. But onward I went!


    Claw Flexibility. Oh, now this one piqued my interest! Seemed I had a soft spot for things that were a tad more¡­ bendy. No pun intended! Enhancing flexibility and control over my usually rigid claws? How intriguing! I could practically see it now¡ªmy claws twisting and turning just so, landing those precise, surgical strikes. At present, my fine control left much to be desired, but with this, I¡¯d be able to manipulate them with a surgeon''s finesse. Possibly, going by that description. This one was definitely going on the list, especially if I fancied getting a bit more strategic in my skirmishes.


    Nerve Sensitivity. Hmm? Just reading about it made my claws tingle. But again, this seemed more like a utility feature than something that would add oomph to my combat prowess. Considering my ultimate goal was to get my human form back, if I wanted to handle delicate tasks, I could simply transform and use my hands like any civilized person. I did like the idea of it, but it wasn¡¯t exactly what I was after at the moment.


    Lastly, Claw Sheaths. Protective sheaths for my claws to minimize the risk of injury or damage when not in use? Yet, something about them struck me as the tamer cousin of Retractable Claws. It just felt like a bit of added assurance for my claws, keeping them snug and secure until the moment arrived to let them loose.


    I daresay my mind was already made up. Claw Flexibility it was! No doubt about it, the most sensible option on the table. More finesse and dexterity in a scuffle could tip the scales in my favor, and that¡¯s no small potatoes! The other options had their appeal, no question, but this one positively leapt off the page! Plus, it came with the most immediate and versatile perks.


    Decision sealed¡ªClaw Flexibility, locked and loaded. A mental command sent, and oh, there it was¡ªthe familiar sting. Would anyone believe it, I think I was actually starting to savor it. Pain, after all, was just a reminder, wasn¡¯t it? A reminder that I was growing, inch by inch, stronger and stronger! It still smarted like the devil, of course, but I¡¯d wager there was a wicked grin plastered on my face this time.


    These claws, they were gaining strength, and I couldn¡¯t help but picture that treacherous wench Jord¡¯s smug mug beneath them. Oh, what I¡¯d give to wipe that phoney grin right off his face. By Thalador¡¯s beard, once I unlocked my human form and had a good understanding of this ¡­system, the very first thing I¡¯d do was hunt down that backstabbing rat. Let him see that the one he sold out for sacrifice was very much alive and absolutely seething.


    And then there was father. How he was faring, I could only wonder. I had no doubt he¡¯d managed; he was the toughest man I¡¯d ever known. My thoughts began to spiral, but I gave my head a good shake. I had more immediate concerns to attend to.


    One quick prayer to Thalador for father¡¯s safety, and then I turned my attention back to the screen.


    Scales +5 Advancement Options


    Choose one of the following:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Scale Overlap: Enhances the overlapping pattern of the user''s scales, increasing overall protection by minimizing gaps and enhancing defensive coverage.


    </li>


    <li>


    Flexible Scales: Modifies the flexibility of the user''s scales, allowing for greater mobility and reduced restriction during high-agility maneuvers.


    </li>


    <li>


    Keratin Hardening: Increases the keratin content in the user''s scales, making them tougher and more resistant to physical damage.


    </li>


    <li>


    Heat Regulation: Enhances the heat-regulating properties of the user''s scales, improving the ability to manage body temperature in extreme environments.


    </li>


    <li>


    Color Adaptation: Enables the user''s scales to automatically change color based on the surroundings, improving camouflage and stealth in various environments.


    </li>


    </ul>


    For whatever reason, as the options popped up, my eyes went straight to the last one.


    Hold up a fucking second. Was it the same stuff those creepers had?

 Chapter 31: The Tree of Bones

    Right, so, I knew they had this rather nifty trick where their bizarre little exoskeletons changed color to blend into the surroundings¡ªquite efficient at that, especially in the dark. And this new upgrade seemed to offer just that. Still, I couldn¡¯t just go picking willy-nilly, could I?


    So, off I went, whizzing through the lot. Tempting as it was to grab the first shiny one, I couldn''t risk missing something brilliant. After all, I was a dragon of impeccable intellect and far-reaching vision! Or, well, I liked to think so. Was Lotte sure my head was in proper working order?


    Bah, never mind. Right, focus. Time to categorize!


    First up, Scale Overlap and Keratin Hardening¡ªdefinitely more of the "keep me safe" variety. Scale Overlap extended the criss-cross pattern of my scales, giving me a bit more coverage. I thought of it like a full-body shield. Brilliant for when things got up close and scrappy.


    Though, in an ideal world, I¡¯d rather not get smacked about too often, thank you very much. Sure, the upgrades made me harder to hit, but I wasn¡¯t about to test out the dungeon crawlers¡¯ smashing abilities on my glorious hide. Best to keep reading.


    Next on the screen was Keratin Hardening. Rather than boosting coverage, this one beefed up the toughness of my scales. Straightforward, really¡ªjust making them tougher and more resistant to any unwelcome pokes and slashes. Perfect if I ended up tangling with some heavy hitters or critters with claws sharper than my wit.


    But did I really need more hardening if the plan was to dodge most of the trouble? Hmm. Then again, that extra toughness might come in handy during a sticky situation.


    Ah, decisions, decisions...


    Flexible Scales. Is it odd that anything with ''flexible'' in the name immediately called out to me? Honestly, heaven help me if ¡®Flexible Dragon¡¯ popped up as an evolution option ¨C I''d be all over it! This one, like the rest, was mighty tempting. Flexibility just made sense, didn¡¯t it? I could shimmy about quicker, less restricted, especially with all the nimble maneuvers I was hoping to master. Dodging, ducking, and darting around like a proper elusive creature¡ªthat was the style I fancied.


    But here¡¯s the thing: I never thought my scales were holding me back. It¡¯s like finding a fix for a problem I didn¡¯t even know I had. And even if it was a problem, it must¡¯ve been so tiny that I hadn''t noticed. Maybe it would become more obvious as I matured? Or perhaps not. Who knew? Anyway, I reckoned I¡¯d pass on that for now.


    Now, Heat Regulation¡­ this was a bit more niche. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what kind of fiery pits or icy caverns these dungeons had in store, but if the system offered this, there were bound to be some extreme temperatures down the line. Still, I had to be honest¡ªit felt more like a cozy comfort thing than an actual upgrade. If things got too toasty, I could always just leg it out of there. Hardly worth it.


    And then¡­ Colour Adaptation. Oh yes! Now we were talking! This little gem had me buzzing with excitement. It was practically tailor-made for my stealthy dragon aspirations! Blending in with my surroundings like a proper sneak, lying in wait, poised for the perfect ambush¡ªglorious! It was like having a cloak of invisibility, except it was all me. Granted, it wasn¡¯t going to fool any beastie sniffing around with other senses, but for visual stealth, it was bang on the money. Pair it with my ever-improving Stealth skill, and I¡¯d be a nightmare to spot.


    So, after mulling it all over, Colour Adaptation was the clear winner. It just felt right, efficient, clever, and wonderfully synergistic with my skills. I locked it in, braced myself, and once again welcomed that familiar jolt of pain with open claws.


    ***


    The tunnel shimmered with hues, but it was eerily quiet. There was always a breeze down here, though where it came from? Not a clue. The agony from upgrading my scales was gone, and they were already shifting colors, blending into the murky surroundings without me even thinking about it. Sure, I was seeing everything in technicolor brilliance, but the tunnel itself was mostly steeped in darkness. Not that it mattered¡ªmy scales were already a nice shade of black, so the shift was barely noticeable.


    I turned my attention back to the screen. Right then, time for the final one: the fire gland upgrade.


    Just as I was about to mentally hit the button, a sudden, bone-chilling dread crawled up my spine. That first sharp jab of existential terror made me whip my head toward the far end of the tunnel, where I could now hear a slow, deliberate scraping sound, like bones dragging over stone.


    I quickly looked away and squeezed my eyes shut, my brain finally catching up to what was happening. Ah yes, that all-too-familiar feeling of existential dread, only this time, it was a bit more... intense. Of course, it had to be Barn. He must¡¯ve returned from his mission, probably in his true form. Didn¡¯t fancy being paralyzed with fear, so I kept my eyes closed.


    Then, I felt it¡ªthat slow, familiar scuttle on my wrist. Cracking my eyes open, there he was again, the little bony serpent with his ridiculous but oddly endearing fake eyes.


    And naturally, he hadn¡¯t come empty-handed.


    My eyes drifted toward what was now clogging the tunnel. A massive tree, made entirely of bones¡ªpure white and gleaming. The hues bounced off it, casting reds, blues, and yellows in strange, almost hypnotic patterns. It might¡¯ve been serene. Might¡¯ve. But that wasn¡¯t what grabbed my attention.


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    No, it was the grotesque monster rats entangled in the bone tree. Each one was half as tall as a human, with grotesquely thin, lanky bodies, and disturbingly long hands, their fingers tapering into sharp claws. They were all frozen in place, completely ensnared by the tree¡¯s bone branches. The branches coiled around them, winding through their bodies, holding them snug in a white, skeletal embrace. No blood. Their eyes darted about madly, wide open¡ªdefinitely alive. Just... properly stuck.


    Barn had finally found them¡ªthe Valar Rats Lotte had told me to sink my teeth into.


    I felt a pang of sympathy, deep down. A whisper, somewhere in my mind, telling me what I was about to do was horrifically wrong. This wasn¡¯t right. This wasn¡¯t a proper hunt. Did I even deserve this?


    But I didn¡¯t have the luxury of listening to that voice. No, there was another one, much louder, manic even.


    Magic.


    Magic was right there, within my grasp.


    Dangling like a tantalizing treat.


    Eighteen years of longing crashed through any hesitation. Their misery would be short-lived, over soon enough. But still...


    "Are they hurting...?" I asked Barn, my eyes fixed on the twisted tree of bones.


    The sound of bones creaking and knitting answered just as usual. ¡°No. Restrained. No magic.¡±


    I was glad.


    I turned my focus back to the screen¡ªonly one last upgrade left. Then, finally, I¡¯d start my evolution.


    I opened the Fire Gland upgrades.


    Fire Gland +5 Advancement Options


    Choose one of the following:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Mana Efficiency: Enhances the conversion efficiency of internal mana into fire mana, allowing the user to generate more potent flames with reduced mana expenditure.


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Compression: Improves the user''s ability to compress fire mana within the gland, resulting in more intense and focused bursts of flame with increased destructive power.


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Reservoir: Expands the storage capacity of fire mana within the gland, enabling the user to retain more fire mana simultaneously, allowing for prolonged use of flames without the need for immediate regeneration.


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Surge: Augments the user''s capability to release fire mana rapidly, facilitating quick succession flame attacks or a sudden, concentrated burst of heat.


    </li>


    <li>


    Controlled Conversion: Refines the user''s ability to precisely control the conversion of internal mana into fire mana, allowing for better regulation of flame intensity and duration.


    </li>


    </ul>


    Ah, now this was a proper mana-centric upgrade!


    I hadn¡¯t even tried using my fire gland yet¡ªnot a drop of internal mana to my name, after all. But now my doubts were flaring up (pun entirely intended). It really seemed like I¡¯d be spewing flames from¡­ well¡­ somewhere. I vaguely recalled those Amber Lizards had a rather ungraceful method of doing it¡­ from their, er, posterior. Good grief, no thank you!


    I gave my head a firm shake, banishing that nightmare of a thought. Right, on to the options then.


    First up: Mana Efficiency. Sounded quite sensible. The idea was to make my conversion of internal mana to fire mana a more well-oiled process. Not the most exciting thing in the world, but if I understood it right, I¡¯d be squeezing more fire out of less mana. It made perfect sense on parchment, but there was one teeny-tiny problem: I had no clue just how efficient this upgrade would be. Oh, for a handy little chart or some percentages! I was going to have to make a guess and, quite possibly, throw myself at the mercy of Lady Luck.


    Efficient flames sounded like a lovely bargain¡ªmore blaze for my buck, if one will. But without knowing the exact numbers, I wasn¡¯t about to make any rash decisions. Time to explore the next option.


    Barn suddenly curled tighter around my wrist. I looked at him¡ªstill fixated on his bone tree. Hmm? What was that about?


    Nothing, probably.


    I tore my eyes away from him and shifted to the second option: Mana Compression.


    Now this was intriguing. If the description wasn¡¯t telling porkies, this one involved squeezing the fire mana into tighter, more potent bursts. More intensity, less fluff¡ªlike shooting out a powerful jet of fire! A mini flamethrower, but from where?


    Thalador preserve me, not my rear end, surely! Ahem. Moving on.


    On the surface, Mana Compression was rather tempting. A concentrated, more intense flame? That certainly tickled my fancy more than the Efficiency option. But I wasn¡¯t ready to make a choice just yet.


    And then, oh then, there was Mana Reservoir. Hooo boy!


    Why were they all so bloody brilliant? I wanted every single one, right there and then!


    This one promised more fire mana storage. Wasn¡¯t hard to picture¡ªI¡¯d be belching out flames left, right, and center, but instead of running out of juice after a few bursts, I¡¯d have a lovely extra tank of fire mana just waiting to be tapped into. Fire, pause, recharge? Oh no, none of that nonsense. This was fire, fire, fire¡ªno timeouts, no breathers, just relentless flamey goodness.


    I could practically feel my heart racing. I wanted this. NOW! But no, Jade, don¡¯t be hasty! A wise dragon doesn¡¯t rush headlong into things. Must assess all options before deciding. Be cool, calm, collected¡­ and absolutely not setting anything ablaze just after getting mana.


    The fourth option, Mana Surge. Now, I¡¯d be really honest here¡ªumm, how was this supposed to work? I hadn¡¯t the foggiest. Not even a smidge. I could read what it said, of course, but having never actually fiddled with this gland, the whole concept remained hazy at best.


    According to the description, though¡ªquick-fire bursts of flame or a rather spicy surge of heat? It had a certain charm in theory, sure. Apparently, there was a bit of a kerfuffle with the fire mana resisting its own release, and this option would... smooth things over?


    Seemed logical enough. In essence, rapid-fire attacks in a flurry or one enormous fiery kaboom to end it all. Aggressive, sure, but was it, umm¡­ sustainable? And was I even remotely right in my assumptions? I hadn¡¯t the faintest clue how much resistance we were talking about, or if it was even necessary. Rather like the flexible scales upgrade, really¡ªI was getting along just fine with the ones I had.


    So, onwards I went.


    Controlled Conversion. The name alone had me buzzing. I¡¯d always been a fan of tinkering, whether it was alchemy, enchanting, or anything requiring a bit of finesse. This upgrade promised to sharpen my control over the flame, adjusting its intensity and duration with a flick of precision. Oh yes, this one felt practical. Especially useful if a little subtlety was required. Less about raw, untamed power, and more about refining the craft. Not the flashiest upgrade, of course, but the sort of thing I¡¯d definitely pick if I weren¡¯t smack in the middle of a dungeon. A solid, long-term investment, that one.


    But truth be told, the choice wasn¡¯t even close. There was just one option that screamed at me from the top of a metaphorical hill, one I knew I¡¯d never regret: Extra Mana Storage.


    Yes, my very first real mana upgrade¡ªMana Reservoir.


    My heart was practically doing a jig. This one wasn¡¯t just an upgrade; it was something altogether more grand. It felt... special. And with my mind made up, I eagerly locked in the choice and braced myself for the inevitable pain.


    Ah, the pain! There I was, grinning like a loon as my chest felt like a pincushion for a thousand tiny, stabby blades. But I welcomed it¡ªbecause now, now it was time for the next phase.


    My first-ever evolution awaited.


    So did magic.


    Soon.

 Chapter 32: Evolution Part 1

    By focusing intently on my level, it once again unveiled itself.


    [Level Cap Reached: Maximum Level Attained. Evolution Process: Available and Ready for Initiation.]


    I turned my attention to the message.


    [Maximum Level Achieved for Current Evolution Stage. Evolution will result in form alteration and stat enhancement as a monster.]


    [Caution: Evolution will reduce Experience Points and Morphogen acquisition from lesser-evolved entities.]


    Oh-ho, so that¡¯s how it works? Naturally! It made perfect sense that I¡¯d reap greater rewards for besting monsters above my station, while the spoils from weaker ones would be, well, somewhat paltry.


    [Would you like to utilize the Evolution Space?]


    Yes, yes! Get on with it, show me! But wait¡ªwhat on Earth did it mean by space¡ª?


    Before I could even begin to untangle that thought, an odd sensation tugged at me, and the world around me began to shimmer and warp. The underground tunnel, the grotesque tree of bones, the rats bound in it, all of it began to fade into a hazy blur.


    Eh? What on Earth was going on?


    My mind spun, but before I could truly grasp the strangeness of it all, I felt the dungeon itself spring to life. The very soil beneath me writhed and surged, creeping up my body like an old friend wrapping me in a rather unsettling hug. Strangely, my body remained calm, though my mind was flailing in all directions.


    Another message appeared before me.


    Fear not, oh child of Gaia. Let your soul find peace and take all the time you need to choose your path.


    In Her gentle embrace, you are held and protected.


    Every time one of these blasted messages appeared, it had that same cold, monotone voice¡ªexcept when Lotte sent them, of course, then there was no voice. But this time, it was different. The voice that echoed in my mind was warm, almost sickeningly so, like the heat from a fire that¡¯s just a little too close.


    I felt it seep into me as I surrendered to the dungeon''s embrace. More and more soil piled atop me, its weight getting oddly comforting. I caught a glimpse of Barn, his form floating about, blurred and distant. Was he watching? Did he know this wasn¡¯t some grave peril?


    Instinctively, I let go. My body ceased its resistance, and I cast a final glance at Barn, offering a small smile as the dungeon¡¯s earthy hold swallowed my vision whole.


    Then, it all went black.


    ***


    It was a door¡ªoddly familiar, yet curiously distant, as though dragged from the misty edges of some long-forgotten dream. Carved into its surface were peculiar symbols, ones I was absolutely certain I''d never been taught, but somehow... I understood them. Deeply. Inexplicably. Quite unsettling, really.


    [Chemistry Lab]


    The door itself was solid wood, the kind that had clearly seen a few centuries and looked none too pleased about it. Aged, battered, and with a definite air of "I¡¯ve been through things, mate." But the handle, oh, that was different! Gleaming like it had just rolled out of the blacksmith¡¯s forge yesterday. Positively smug, in fact. I frowned at the contrast, gave my head a little shake as if that would make the weirdness settle, blinked twice for good measure, and then, with a breath that was meant to be calming (but wasn¡¯t), I grabbed the knob. After all, what else does one do when faced with a mysterious door?


    Inside was something that made my brain do a little pirouette. The room stretched before me, lined with long tables, all made from some glossy, polished stone that was smoother than a buttered slide. Not a single crack. Absolutely flawless.


    Along the walls, shelves just seemingly groaned under the weight of countless bottles and jars, each made from glass clearer than the finest crystal goblets I¡¯d ever seen¡ªbetter even than that posh set the Mayor liked to flaunt at fancy dos.


    And the contents! Oh, the contents. Powders and liquids in every colour under the sun, some even the colours the sun hasn¡¯t dared to dream up yet. Bright greens, royal purples, and some that shimmered like liquid silver, swirling about.


    Up at the far end of the room, a peculiar bit of kit caught my eye. A tangled web of tubes, cylinders, and a whole lot of glass and metal, all arranged in what I could only assume was some sort of distillation device. No fire, though¡ªodd. Instead, little glowing squares sat beneath the glass, softly humming with light. Runes, no doubt. But since when did runes power things without flames? How was it even working?


    Before I could puzzle it out, my attention was yanked elsewhere. I wasn¡¯t alone. Behind the apparatus stood someone¡ªa woman¡ªholding a beaker full of bubbling purple liquid that puffed out strange vapours. She caught my eye, grinned cheekily, and gave me a wink.


    "Welcome! Come on, what are you waiting for? Time¡¯s ticking, so let¡¯s crack on!" Her voice was chipper, urging me forward, but I stood there, rooted to the spot. My eyes were glued to her face, and I couldn¡¯t look away. Those narrow eyes, those piercing blue irises... She looked exactly like me. Well, almost. No horns.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    And then it hit me. I wasn¡¯t in my dragon form anymore. Somehow, I had slipped back into my old one. I glanced down, seeing the blue gown I¡¯d worn just once¡ªfather had bought it for my last birthday, but I hadn¡¯t had many occasions to show it off. It still fit like a dream, though.


    But my twin across the room¡ªshe had chosen a different look. A loose tunic, half-buttoned, casually baring her midriff and part of her shoulder, looking quite... stylish. Or was it a crop top? Another pesky word from that strange dreamworld of mine. And a skirt to go with it, naturally.


    I started towards her, eyes flitting about the room. It looked like an alchemical lab, but far more advanced, more¡­ polished than anything I¡¯d ever come across. Instead of the usual flickering candles, oil lamps, or mana-fuelled flames, strange glowing orbs hung from the ceiling, bathing the space in a steady, unnervingly bright light. They didn¡¯t flicker, not even a bit. LED bulbs? Ugh, not again! More odd terms from my dreams bubbling to the surface.


    There was a soft hum, too, vibrating faintly beneath the floorboards. The sharp, acrid scent in the air nipped at my nose, but oddly enough, it didn¡¯t feel unpleasant. In fact, I felt... oddly at home.


    And then, there they were¡ªshelves. Lining the walls like soldiers on parade. Not scrolls, though. Oh no, these were books. Neatly bound in stiff, pristine parchment. Each one looked smooth enough to glide one¡¯s hand across without a snag. Proper posh.


    I must¡¯ve stared a bit too hard because my doppelganger grinned, leaving her spot behind the table and sauntering over to me. ¡°Fascinating, right?¡± she said, a spark in her eyes.


    I tore my gaze away from the books, momentarily forgetting my earlier bewilderment. ¡°Fascinating indeed,¡± I muttered, still gawking at everything. There was something about this place... a strange familiarity, like bittersweet nostalgia creeping in, tugging at my insides. But where it was coming from? No clue.


    She giggled, grabbing my hand and giving it a gentle tug. "Well, come on then, let¡¯s get started! No time for dilly-dallying!" She pulled me towards a shelf with the fewest books, her enthusiasm practically infectious.


    I hesitated, mind still reeling. What was happening? Was this a dream? Was I evolving without even realising it? Wait¡ªdidn¡¯t that screen mention something about being sent to an ¡®evolution space¡¯? Was this it? And why was this strange version of me here, looking all¡­ well, me?


    "You know," she began, casting a cheeky glance in my direction, "you could just stop overthinking for a moment and ride the wave. Your thoughts are so loud, I can practically hear them bellowing from your face."


    "I¡ª"


    "Shush!" She silenced me with a finger pressed to my lips, a gesture that was both swift and utterly bewildering. Her face was too close, "Let me do the talking first. It''d be frightfully rude if I didn''t introduce myself, wouldn''t it? I''m you¡ªwell, a part of you, anyway. The mental bit. The part that actually has a clue about how this whole system malarkey works. Instead of overloading your poor brain with all the nitty-gritty biological nonsense that comes with initiating an evolution, the system pulls out a slice of your mind and gives it a face. Mine, as it happens."


    Ah, so she was the system. In my form. Splendid.


    "And what¡­ is this place exactly?" I inquired. "The screen said something about an ''Evolution Space.''"


    "Of course it¡¯s the same space! What, did you expect to be tossed into some bleak void and suffer the same exquisite torment as when you mutated? You know, where every bit of your insides does a¡­ little dancey dance and twist?" She wriggled a bit in place, but I went rigid.


    "Wait, how did you¡ª"


    "Naturally, I know everything about you, silly. We are the same person, after all!"


    And that, precisely, was the bit sending a shiver down my spine! But then again, system business was always a touch peculiar. Probably best to just go along with it, I reckoned.


    Something in me shifted, and I relaxed. Maybe it was the sheer oddity of standing there, facing a version of myself who knew me inside out. But, oddly enough, it was comforting. No point in hiding when someone can read you like an open book, right? I even giggled a little as we moved towards the shelf near that strange contraption.


    The shelf was lined with books¡ª different ones though, five neat rows, each row in its own distinct colour. The bottom row held books bound in jet black, while the row above was all grey. Then came the yellows, followed by deep reds, and finally, gold at the top. But there was another row, perched above the rest, and it didn¡¯t look like it belonged.


    While the other shelves were made from common wood¡ªalbeit polished and fancy¡ªthis top one was positively ornate. It shimmered with an¡­ alien glow, encrusted with crystals and gemstones woven into its structure. Only two books sat there, and their covers gleamed with the same rainbow hue, crystalline and mesmerizing.


    Without thinking, my hand drifted toward them, fingers itching to touch those shining covers. But I stopped myself just in time, shaking my head clear. What on earth was that? It felt as though some strange force had called me to those two ornate books.


    ¡°Pretty, aren¡¯t they?¡± She said, nodding toward the rainbow books. Pretty? That was putting it mildly. I could practically feel the importance radiating off them.


    ¡°So, what are they?¡± I asked.


    "Why don''t you take a wild stab at it?"


    I didn¡¯t have time for guessing games.


    "Oh, I know, you think time¡¯s ticking away, but let me assure you, it¡¯s a bit wonky here. A whole day in this little pocket might only be an hour back in the real world." Of course, she was mind-reading again¡ªhow charming. I could have grilled her on the logistics, but honestly, I¡¯d seen weirder things lately. So, I just edged closer to the books, intrigued despite myself.


    ¡°Something to do with my evolution,¡± I ventured.


    ¡°Bah! What did I expect from myself? Come on, think harder. I know you¡¯re connecting the dots!¡±


    I rolled my eyes. "Oh, I do love a good puzzle, but I¡¯m not in the mood. Just spill it!" Honestly, I just wasn¡¯t in the mood for cryptic riddles from my mirror-self.


    ¡°Fine, fine,¡± she sighed. ¡°Each of these books contains a recipe for an evolution. And in your particular evolution space, it¡¯s a potion recipe. And I, dear me, am the alchemist the system¡¯s kindly assigned to brew it for you. Isn¡¯t that just a treat?¡±


    I squinted at her. The way she said ¡®your particular evolution space¡¯ set off a little alarm bell in my head. "Do all monsters get these swanky evolution rooms, complete with potion-brewing doppelg?ngers?"


    "Of course not, you silly sausage," she replied, grinning. "The evolution space is tailored to each monster, a little haven that reflects what makes them feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The system cooks it up based on what feels safe to you. So, while your space is an alchemical lab, others might have a forest glade, an underground cavern, or perhaps something grand like a sprawling library. Whatever floats their boat."


    ¡°Huh,¡± I muttered, trying to imagine that creeper in a cozy reading nook. Not quite the same vibe.


    "But... I don¡¯t even know what this place is." I glanced around again, and that familiar pang of nostalgia and heartache gripped me once more. It was unsettling¡ªlike remembering a home you¡¯d never lived in. Yet, she was right. Just being here made me feel strangely happy, more at ease. What was this feeling? And why did this place seem to wrap around me like a cosy blanket?


    She caught my gaze and smiled, but of course, didn¡¯t bother filling in the blanks. Instead, she sashayed towards the shelf as if she had all the time in the world.


    "Come along, then," she called, "grab those books and see what evolutionary concoctions you¡¯ve unlocked."

 Chapter 33: Evolution Part 2

    Alchemy.


    What was it, really? A mere craft? Some dusty old formulas scribbled in battered tomes that Miss Hester kindly shoved my way? Or perhaps those violent, perilous concoctions that Lotte was always so keen to pelt me with?


    No, it was none of that, was it?


    Not just that, anyway.


    Something deeper lurked beneath. Something grander. Something far more elusive.


    What was it that lay beneath? The answer was¡­ rather simple: this raw, living, breathing symphony of transformation.


    The shimmer of copper, bubbling away until it blossomed into verdigris. The soft sigh of glass as it cooled, shifting from molten rage to crystal clarity. It was all there.


    This melodic hymn of change.


    This lullaby of becoming.


    Everything in the world held the promise of change, but those alchemical ingredients, they¡­ carried it in its purest, wildest form. Every time I brewed a potion, crafted a salve, or melded ingredients together, it wasn¡¯t just stuff I was making, it was this very transformation itself.


    And somehow, deep down, it always struck a chord with me.


    Now, as I stared at these books, these recipes, for my very own evolution¡ªI couldn¡¯t help but feel that this was the purest manifestation of thoughts that had been resting quietly within me. Unspoken. Something I could never put in words. The concoctions I¡¯d brew from these pages wouldn¡¯t just change the world around me; no, they¡¯d change me.


    This feeling.


    To be elevated.


    To be perfected.


    My connection with alchemy was never just a matter of intellect. No, it was something far more visceral, more primal. My hands grasped a black tome from the bottom shelf, and for a fleeting moment, I felt it again¡ªthe same pull, the same sensation.


    Yes. Of course.


    Nothing was different after all.


    I cradled the book, the world around me fading into insignificance for just a breath. The smooth cover, the weight it held. Even without opening it, I could feel it¡ªthe scent of endurance, the promise of protection.


    And above all, the whispered vow of transformation.


    On the cover, it read: Ironhide Hatchling.


    Naturally, I dove straight in. And¡­


    On the very first page? An image. A hefty, thick-scaled dragon, bulkier than my current form. Its wings were shorter than mine, though equipped with a leathery membrane. The tail, however, ended in a rather menacing spiked club.


    I flipped another page, and there it was:


    [Description: Toughened, defense-focused evolution.]


    [Stat Bonuses: +1 Durability, +0.5 Strength per level until next evolution.]


    [New Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    [New Organ: Dermal Shielding Plates ¨C Thick, interlocking scales providing superior primary protection over standard scales.]


    So, essentially, a bulkier, more defensive version of me. And I mean really defensive¡ªextra plating over my already solid scales, plus a new organ I could mutate and upgrade?


    Wait a tick¡ª


    ¡°Yes, you can use mutagens to upgrade said organs,¡± a voice whispered in my ear.


    EEEEEEP! I nearly jumped out of my scales. Oh wait, I had no scales here.


    My doppelg?nger cackled. ¡°Oh, that was priceless! You looked so utterly baffled just now.¡±


    Oh, the cheek of it! "Hah..." I grumbled. "I was literally just about to ask that! Couldn''t you have waited, instead of spookily reading my mind?¡±


    ¡°Pfft, if you were in my position, you know you''d do the same!¡±


    And... yeah, she had a point. It was me, after all. Who better to know what I¡¯d tolerate or not? Ugh, it was all getting a bit too introspective. With a huff, I set the black-covered book aside.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t fancy the defensive version of yourself, then?¡±


    ¡°No, I did like it. It¡¯s just... not quite what I¡¯m after.¡± Please, for the love of dragons, let the one I need be in here.


    With that, I shifted to the second option. This one was titled Juggernaut Hatchling.


    Flipping it open, I was greeted by yet another image. This time? An even bulkier version of myself¡ªthink me but with¡­ muscles.


    [Description: Brute-force evolution prioritizing maximum strength.]


    [Stat Bonuses: +1 Strength, +0.5 Durability per level until next evolution.]


    [New Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    [New Organ: Osteofibril Network ¨C Complex dense fibers reinforcing the skeletal structure.]


    Still¡­ not quite what I had in mind.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    With a sigh, I set that one aside too and reached for the final book in the Black section.


    Juvenile Razorhorn


    [Description: High-impact evolution specializing in charging and piercing.]


    [Stat Bonuses: +0.5 Strength, +0.5 Durability, +0.5 Will per level until next evolution.]


    [New Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    [New Organ: Cranial Impact Node ¨C Dense bone structure around the skull, amplifying charge attack power.]


    They did look rather snazzy as options, and honestly, I might''ve locked one in if I hadn¡¯t already set my sights on something else.


    Come on, now!


    The black ones were sorted, and above them were grey-coloured tomes. I began flipping through them, one by one.


    Windrunner Wyrmling


    [Description: Speed-oriented evolution optimized for agility and dodging.]


    [Stat Bonuses: +2 Strength per level until next evolution.]


    [New Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    [New Organ: Tendon-Extensor Array ¨C Specialized muscle/tendon system enhancing movement speed and reflexes.]


    Hold on¡ªdid the stat boost just get bigger? With those black evolutions, I was only getting a 1.5 stat bump per level. Curious¡­


    "Are they, like... rarities? These colours?" I asked my doppelg?nger, who was already faffing about behind that strange apparatus, tinkering with the tubes.


    ¡°Yes, one might put it that way. They even come in colours you might find... familiar.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I noticed.¡± The colours matched the tiers of a mage¡¯s mana core, from the lowly black to the illustrious gold.


    I quickly started rifling through more books.


    Next up: Juvenile Shadowstalker¡ªbasically, a stealthy little number.


    [Stat Bonuses: +1.5 Strength, +0.5 Intelligence per level until next evolution.]


    [New Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    [New Organ: Acoustic Dampener Pouches ¨C Specialized muscles that absorb sound during movement.]


    There were only two books in the grey section. And no, it wasn¡¯t in these ones either. Oh crikey, did I not unlock the achievement like Lotte had said? I set the books down, feeling a bit miffed, and rummaged through the single yellow-covered one next.


    There was just one book here too.


    Shadewalker Dragonling. Looked like a higher rarity version of Juvenile Shadowstalker. That extra 0.5 stat bonus seemed like the kind of perk one¡¯d get as they climbed up the rarity ladder.


    [Stat Bonuses: +2 Strength, +0.5 Intelligence per level until next evolution.]


    [New Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    [New Organ: Reticularis Veil ¨C Organ manipulates light, making the user harder to detect visually.]


    Hmm, I already had something for dodging visual detection, but this would pair nicely with my camouflaging scales, wouldn¡¯t it? Ohh, the agony! So many tempting options, and here I was, skipping some real gems. But no, I had to stay focused. Eyes on the prize, as they say.


    Above these, there were the red ones, even rarer. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure how much stronger they were, but the stat difference was crystal clear. Plus, who knew what new and fancy skills I could snag upon evolving? If my guess was right, I could nab them with Skill Points. Speaking of which, I still hadn¡¯t spent the point on Crush Claw yet¡ªjust didn¡¯t feel urgent at the moment.


    I tossed the question to my doppelganger, who responded with nothing more than a shrug. ¡°Newer skills depend entirely on the evolution you pick. Before you evolve, even I haven¡¯t the foggiest clue what sort of skills you¡¯ll unlock,¡± she said, before going back to her odd little alchemy project. She flitted about, gathering liquids from beakers and tipping them into spindly glass tubes. A bright yellow liquid fizzled as she sprinkled in a red powder.


    Honestly, what was she doing? Not just doing, but... concocting, maybe?


    Oi, Jade! Focus! Stop getting distracted by alchemy and weird experiments!


    There it was, standing out like a sore thumb above the yellow section¡ªone solitary red book. Naturally, it was the first thing that caught my eye next.


    Flamecore Hatchling


    The first page had a picture: wings larger than mine, a body darker red than black, sleek, sinuous, a more elegant version of my current self.


    [Description: Evolution focused on fire-based attacks, enabling the user to weaponize mana into flames.]


    [Stat Bonuses: +2 Intelligence, +1 Agility per level until next evolution.]


    [New Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    [Unlocks Fire Affinity.]


    [Unlocks Mana Core: Basic Monster Core ¨C Enables internal mana storage and channeling for abilities or mana-converting organs.]


    Hmm¡­ Lotte might have been onto something. It was ranked sky-high in rarity, and, well, magic! But¡­ now that I saw it, I realised it wasn¡¯t quite the irresistible trap I¡¯d expected. The perks weren¡¯t that dazzling. Though, to be fair, the form did look pretty amazing.


    I set the red book down and glanced toward the gold section. And, above that, a set of rainbow-hued books that looked as if they belonged to a whole different class entirely.


    One golden book sat alone. I had only one in each of these higher rarity tiers, it seemed. But when my eyes locked onto the title, my heart gave a little leap.


    Was this it? Was this finally it?


    Hungerborn Hatchling


    Without a second thought, I cracked open the book.


    What greeted me on the first page was unlike any other evolution I''d ever seen. Most evolutions were mere extensions of my base form, but this¡ªoh, this was something else entirely. My maw stretched unnaturally, like one of those creepers, down to my throat. Elongated, grotesque. Teeth curved inward, perfectly crafted for ripping, tearing, and devouring with ruthless efficiency. My scales were a dark, almost sickly green, wings jagged at the edges like a serrated blade. My tail, even longer than before, thinned into a whip, perhaps fit for strangling prey. Yet the pi¨¨ce de r¨¦sistance? My stomach¡ªbloated, immense, prepared for relentless consumption.


    I flipped the page in haste.


    And there it was, the description:


    [Description: Gluttonous form allowing user to feed endlessly and rapidly process consumed material into usable energy. Optimal for prolonged survival or combat in resource-rich environments.]


    [Stat Bonuses: +1 Intelligence, +1 Will, +2 Durability per level until next evolution.]


    [New Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    [New Organ: Macro-Trophic Sac ¨C Specialized organ expanding stomach capacity, enhancing nutrient absorption and resource processing into stamina or rapid healing.]


    [Evolution Exclusive Ability: Endless Hunger ¨C User¡¯s metabolism adapts, permitting continuous feeding without reaching fullness.]


    Of course. Lotte had been spot-on again. When was she ever wrong? This was exactly what I needed. The key to unlocking magic.


    Lotte had said that the more I devoured, the higher my chances of evolving with organs similar to those I consumed. To finally gain those physical mana veins the valar rats had, I would need to feast on them¡ªdevour them as if the sun wouldn''t rise again. How much would I need to eat? I hadn''t the faintest clue. But I knew the amount was no small figure. Lotte had made it quite clear: unlock a hunger-based evolution at all costs. She''d even advised stuffing myself until I teetered on the brink of death before triggering the evolution.


    This was a sacrificial evolution. It wasn¡¯t for my overall improvement, but a crucial step on the path to where I needed to be. I clutched the golden book tightly. This was my ticket to magic. The real, proper magic I had longed for. So, so long.


    And now it was within my grasp.


    "Looks like you¡¯ve finally stumbled upon it," my doppelg?nger quipped, as she carefully heated the glass tube, gripping it with metal tongs, hovering it above what appeared to be some kind of runes. Naturally, there wasn¡¯t a flame in sight. Utterly bizarre, that. And yet¡­


    "Why do I get the nagging suspicion you knew exactly what I was after?"


    "Of course I did!" she chirped.


    "And you also knew which book it was?"


    She nodded, positively beaming.


    "And it never crossed your mind that perhaps¡ªjust perhaps¡ªit might¡¯ve been more efficient to tell me?"


    "Efficient? Oh, darling, I¡¯ve already begun brewing the evolution potion. Watching you wade through those stages of despair while flipping through book after book was simply far too entertaining to interrupt."


    I swear, I felt a vein bulging in my temple. Was I always this infuriating to others? No, surely not. She was clearly exploiting my innate generosity!


    Even so, as I clutched the golden book, my gaze wandered yet again to those two peculiar rainbow-hued volumes. My hand, quite without permission, reached towards them.


    But before I could touch them, my doppelg?nger''s voice echoed from behind me.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to see what¡¯s inside those if I were you.¡±


    Huh?

 Chapter 34: Allure of the Forbidden

    Perhaps it was the utterly baffled expression plastered across my face that prompted her to speak.


    ¡°The allure of the forbidden has a knack for making one¡¯s desires even stronger, don¡¯t you think?¡± she said, once again with that annoyingly confident tone. Wait, what on earth¡ªhold on, what was she implying?


    It took a moment for the penny to drop. Lotte¡¯s words echoed back in my mind. Up until this point, not a single book had mentioned the sun or light. Yet here they were, the last two remaining books on this ridiculously ornate shelf, practically mocking me with their mystery.


    ¡°I know our mind all too well,¡± she continued, gesturing lazily at those temptingly embellished rainbow volumes. ¡°Anything that fits neatly into a dream or desire? Oh, it¡¯s guaranteed our mind will obsess over it.¡±


    What kind of evolutions were hidden in these books, if even my own bloody doppelg?nger had gone out of her way to warn me off? It felt like tormenting myself on two fronts: knowing how maddeningly close I was to the truth, and at the same time, being forced to accept I could never have it. And if these pages held anything to do with the sun or light, well, there wasn¡¯t a chance in hell I¡¯d ever get my hands on them. Not after last time. I wasn¡¯t about to ignore Lotte¡¯s advice ever again.


    ¡­.Or was I?


    Blast it, my curiosity had well and truly taken the reins now. That nagging, infuriating urge to know had been dogging me ever since I became a blasted dragon. Before I could stop myself, my hand shot out, seizing the first of those rainbow-hued tomes as if it were about to vanish into the ether.


    TO HELL WITH IT! I HAD TO KNOW!


    And I flipped it open, but not before I saw the label.


    Solblood Dragonling


    The illustration inside stole my breath. It was a dragonling, roughly my size, but where my scales were the darkest midnight, this one gleamed with a divine, radiant gold. Its wings shimmered, translucent as if woven from pure sunlight, with fiery orange and red veins glowing within them. Those wide eyes were twin golden orbs. And the tail¡ªwhat I had earlier thought to be a spike was more like a blazing flare.


    It was¡­ beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking. And terrifying. Because the name alone screamed something related to sun. My stomach twisted. I knew what that meant, I almost didn¡¯t want to flip the page. But that blasted curiosity of mine had a mind of its own, and before I could even consider stopping, my hands were already turning the page.


    ...I was right.


    [Description: A rare evolution tied to the power of the sun. Grants the user the ability to draw upon solar energy, significantly powering up in sunlight and weaponizing this energy in devastating ways.]


    [Stat Bonuses: +10 Intelligence, +10 Will, +10 Durability, +10 Strength per level until next evolution.]


    [New Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    [Unlocks Special Mana Core: Helios Core ¨C A specialized mana core attuned to solar energy, enabling vast internal mana storage.]


    [Unlocks Solar Affinity ¨C Solar mana is a hybrid form of fire and light mana.]


    [New Organ: Helio-Synthesis Gland ¨C A unique organ near the heart converts solar energy into internal mana, allowing storage and harnessing of sunlight at any time. It also increases the healing rate while in sunlight.]


    [New Ability: Radiant Metabolism ¨C The user¡¯s body is powered by sunlight, absorbing and converting it into stamina, health, and mana. This enables extended activity under the sun, reducing reliance on food or sleep.]


    What. The. Bloody. Hell?


    I snapped the book shut, my brain doing somersaults trying to process the sheer madness I''d just witnessed. I stood there, gormless, while the sound of my doppelg?nger¡¯s cackling filled the air. My face must¡¯ve been stuck in the expression of a slapped cod, because she abandoned her potion-making, doubled over like a loon, clutching her sides in a fit of laughter.


    ¡°Hah... Hahahaha! I told you!¡± she wheezed, barely able to catch her breath. ¡°I bloody told you!¡±


    Yes, yes, she had. But was I still completely flummoxed? Abso-bloody-lutely. What in the name of all things holy were these stat bonuses? Forty? FORTY bloody points? That¡¯s like¡ªwhat¡ªten times more than the gold-tier boosts?


    This was madness. Utter madness!


    And those organs? Converting actual sodding sunlight into mana? A special core with massive mana reserve? And don¡¯t even get me started on that ludicrous ability! I mean, sure, just give me the power to do everything as long as I stand in the sunshine. Why not?


    This wasn¡¯t just a rung above the other evolutions. No, this was a whole new ladder! But why, in the name of Thalador¡¯s beard, had Lotte given me that warning about anything remotely connected to the sun or the light? What was the catch?


    I hadn¡¯t a clue. With a rather satisfying thud, I slammed the book shut again.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Honestly, maybe it was best not to know. Not to even give it a second thought. Ignorance, as they say, is bliss.


    ¡°Got anything that can scrub the last five minutes from my memory?¡± I asked, deadpan. ¡°And if so, do me a favour and lock these cursed rainbow tomes somewhere I¡¯ll never stumble upon them again, will you?¡±


    Cue even louder, borderline-hysterical laughter from my doppelg?nger, now gasping for breath like she was on the verge of keeling over.


    I sighed, exasperated. But I couldn¡¯t deny it¡ªshe¡¯d hit the nail on the head earlier. The allure of the forbidden, directly proportional to how badly one wanted it. And hell, I could already feel it gnawing at me. This wasn¡¯t just an evolution; it was the key to unimaginable power. And it was only the second stage. Who knew how far I¡¯d go, starting off with something like this?


    But something about it stank. Why was this evolution even on offer? Lotte had told me I¡¯d need to earn every evolution, each step of the way.


    I unlocked the Hungerborn Hatchling by gorging myself senseless on those creepers¡¯ corpses, practically bursting at the seams. Upgrading every organ along the way probably didn¡¯t hurt either. Then there was Flamecore Hatchling¡ªthat one was no mystery. It was all down to pushing my fire gland to its limits, advancing it further.


    Shadewalker and Shadowstalker? Those were a dead giveaway¡ªdirect results of having the stealth ability and picking all the sneaky organ upgrades. Windrunner Wyrmling? Definitely tied to the flexibility and agility buffs I¡¯d been stacking. It all made sense, like I¡¯d earned them through some sort of effort.


    But this, this Solblood Dragonling? Aside from Lotte¡¯s warning not to touch anything sun or light-related, I hadn¡¯t the foggiest clue why it was even on the table. There was no obvious connection, no earned right as far as I could tell.


    I shot a sharp glare at my doppelg?nger, who was still cackling like a mad hatter. ¡°Are you planning to just stand there, chortling like a loon, or do you actually have a proper explanation for all this?¡±


    She dabbed at a tear, still wobbling on the brink of another giggle fit. ¡°Oh, crikey, you think I¡¯ve got all the answers? That¡¯s a corker.¡±


    I folded my arms, unimpressed. ¡°Well, seeing as you¡¯re me¡ªtechnically¡ªand supposedly the version of me that actually gets this whole system¡­ fiasco my poor brain can¡¯t process, yes, I¡¯d expect a bit more cleverness, maybe even a smidge of brilliance.¡±


    ¡°Should be, yes. But alas, here we are, both of us gawping at a rainbow book, and neither of us any the wiser,¡± she shot back with a shrug.


    ¡°Fabulous. So, you¡¯ve been laughing at me for five minutes with zero actual helpful input?¡± I raised an eyebrow, fully unimpressed now.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯d say I was laughing with you, but you¡¯ve got the emotional depth of a puddle at the moment,¡± she quipped, finally pulling herself together. ¡°I did know about the contents of the books and, naturally, how each potion corresponds to an evolution. But as for why they¡¯ve all popped up here? No clue.¡±


    I groaned. ¡°So all that dramatic cackling was for¡­ nothing?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely. But it was a laugh,¡± she said with a cheeky wink.


    ¡°Glad someone''s enjoying themselves.¡±


    ¡°Oh, chin up, Jade. You¡¯ll figure it out eventually. Or, you know, you¡¯ll just blunder ahead, ignoring everything and dive headfirst into chaos. Either way, it''ll be a riot to watch.¡±


    With that, she flashed me one last grin and turned back to her potion brewing. Brilliant. Absolutely bloody brilliant.


    I glanced at the second book.


    "You reckon I ought to give this one a gander as well, or just leave it be?"


    "Ahh, now that''s a question only you can answer."


    Of course. Knowing what was hidden in the first, why on earth would I stop now? I slid the second rainbow-hued tome out.


    Photonic Dragonling, it read.


    The first page greeted me with another image¡ªanother dragon my size, only this one was shimmering with dazzling, opalescent scales. Light danced off them at odd angles, some parts even disappearing into thin air. Its wings, broader than mine, gleamed like polished silver, much like the rest of its body. The eyes, too, were pure silver, staring back at me with a spectral glow.


    [Description: A rare evolution embodying the essence of pure light. Grants the user enhanced control over light, allowing fine manipulation of light mana.]


    [Stat Bonuses: +10 Intelligence, +10 Will, +10 Durability, +10 Strength per level until next evolution.]


    [New Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    [Unlocks Special Mana Core: Prism Core ¨C A unique mana core aligned with pure light mana, enabling vast internal mana storage.]


    [Unlocks Light Affinity.]


    [New Organ: Prism Lattice Network ¨C A complex system of crystalline structures embedded in bones and muscles, amplifying and fine-tuning light mana manipulation.]


    [New Ability: Photon Unit ¨C The user constantly absorbs ambient light and light mana, storing it as energy. This energy can be used for rapid healing or to enhance light-based mana attacks.]


    Quite similar to the Solblood one, but somehow... not. Solblood was all about brute force, power from the sun, and generally being like a walking explosion waiting to happen. This one, though? It seemed more... finessed. Still deadly, of course, but leaning into the whole "master of light" thing. Where Solblood seemed like it would unleash bursts of solar energy, Photonic told of a delicate, controlled manipulation of light itself.


    I shut the book, sliding it back into its fancy spot on the shelf.


    Hah.


    Suddenly, it made perfect sense why Lotte wanted to chat before I kicked off this evolution business. She probably had all the answers tucked away in that brilliant head of hers. Maybe I could badger her for a hint, in case there was some dangerous bit I was missing.


    I threw one last glance at the rainbow-covered tomes, grit my teeth, and grabbed the gold-covered one instead. Time to face my doppelg?nger, who looked like she was just about finished.


    She clasped the potion, a slender tube of glass, swirling its dark, shimmering contents like a pocket storm. The more I stared, the more it seemed to warp reality¡ªan illusion, like one of those Winter Salamander¡¯s sighs. Too many teeth for comfort, and an eye that blinked into existence only to vanish, like a trick of the mind.


    "Last choice, is it?"


    Nothing else mattered now. Magic was everything. And, well, not crossing Lotte was quickly becoming equally crucial. I gripped the Golden Tome tighter in my hands.


    "Yes."


    She held the vial aloft, beckoning me closer. But just as I reached out, she sidestepped my grasp and wrapped her arms around me in a swift, unexpected hug.


    ¡°Hugs always did the trick for us, didn¡¯t they?¡±


    She wasn¡¯t wrong. I returned the embrace, holding on tightly, grasping at this strange part of myself that ¡­understood me. Perhaps even better than I ever had. Her embrace felt like staring into a mirror¡ªone with far too much emotional clarity, reflecting parts of me I hadn¡¯t yet faced. The sensation of being hugged by her was unsettling, like feeling exposed to emotions I¡¯d kept buried.


    I closed my eyes. Something inside me began to unravel, something I hadn¡¯t even realised needed unravelling. The tears welled, unbidden, from all those bottled-up feelings¡ªignorance, confusion, the weight of taking lives and the knowledge that I would take more.


    She probably noticed. Of course, she would. She was me, after all.


    ¡°I¡¯d say it gets better,¡± she muttered, ¡°but I¡¯ve no time for lying to myself.¡±


    Blunt. No wonder we got on so well¡ªshe was the version of me I always imagined staring back from the mirror.


    ¡°Figures,¡± I said, finally taking the potion from her hand. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ll be meeting again soon.¡±


    She just smiled that knowing smile. ¡°I¡¯ll be here, waiting.¡±


    And with that, down went the potion. Gulp.

 Chapter 35: Hungry Dragon

    The moment I knocked back that potion, my world blinked out¡ªblack as a crow in a coal mine. Time? Not a clue. Felt like ages. Then, I had this peculiar sense of being enclosed, all snug but with something pressing down on me. Naturally, I started flailing about, trying to get a sense of what was around me. The surface I touched was soft, like an eggshell but not quite. When I finally pried open my eyes, everything was dark, not a hint of those lovely hues I so was used to.


    I could feel something else too. Different. My arms, which were now shoving against the shell-like stuff encasing me, had strength¡ªproper, more powerful strength. And there was something else too... a hollowness, like an echo inside me. Ah yes, hunger. Ravenous, I was. Positively famished.


    I made short work of that earthy shell with my claws, popped it open like a badger digging for worms. And just like that, the hues were back, washing over everything in a brilliant splash of colour. Honestly, it was downright strange to have them gone in the first place. Made the darkness feel all the more empty. But no sting this time though, not with my freshly upgraded eyes.


    I glanced at Barn, who was still bobbing about in the same spot. The moment our eyes met, his fake ones went wide, and he started zooming about, scuttling up and down my snout like an over-excited puppy. Was it joy? Excitement? Who knows. But through our bond, I felt a wave of pure glee. It was ticklish though, nearly made me sneeze! Up he floated again, spinning in circles, as if telling me to hurry up. The cheek! Of course, I knew what he was saying.


    I stretched my serpentine neck out of the earthy cocoon the ground had so kindly crafted for me to evolve in. I swear, it felt just like the inside of an egg¡ªsmooth as butter¡ªbut made entirely of dungeon soil. Quite posh, really.


    And with that, I sprang forth! With purpose, of course. Had a plan, I did. But first things first¡ªtime to take stock of the new me. I twirled my neck around, and oh, what a marvel! This was always something to be thankful for in this new form. My old human skull couldn¡¯t do this¡ªsuch an easy tilt, twist, and switch to see my entire body! None of that awkward fumbling to peek at my own back.


    And yep, I¡¯d changed alright.


    It was exactly like that blasted illustration I¡¯d seen¡ªspot on, really. First order of business: inspect the maw. Quite possibly the most grotesque feature of this new form, and creepy to boot. My claw traced the outline as I unhinged my jaw¡ªit stretched unnervingly wide, nearly reaching the back of my throat! Snapped it shut with a clack. And the teeth? Changed too¡ªnasty, curved little buggers.


    Dark green scales glistened in the hues. My wings, now adorned with serrated, bone-like blades, felt heavier than before. I reckon I¡¯d grown a bit as well. But, oh Thalador, my belly! I was fat! Absolutely round! Didn¡¯t like it one bit, not at all. I used to be sleek, graceful, the very picture of a sinuous dragon. Probably. But this? This rotund form was an insult to my refined sensibilities!


    I waddled around on all fours, still getting used to this bulk. Spotted a bit of debris a few meters away and jumped on it. Then off I went, darting left, changing direction, bounding from one spot to another in the tunnel. Hah! Agility still intact! A small part of me had feared that being this pudgy would slow me down, and I fully expected it to. But nope, still as spry as before. Thank the lord for that.


    Ah well, I reassured myself, it¡¯s only temporary¡ªsecond stage and all. I¡¯ll soon hit the third stage, and with any luck, I¡¯ll shed this bloated look for something a bit more... sophisticated. Perhaps even a bit of that mage-monster vibe I¡¯ve been aiming for.


    I pulled up my stat screen.


    Name: Jade


    Level: 1


    Species: Hungerborn Hatchling (Draconis) (II)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 15


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 14


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 31


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 18


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 0/0


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 20/20


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Claw Swipe: Level 4 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Stealth: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crunch: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Quick Dash: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes - Focusing Lenses (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws - Claw Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales - Colour Adaptation (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings - Hollow Bones (II) +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs - Joint Flexibility (II) +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir (II) +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac +0


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 2


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 0


    </li>


    </ul>


    Hah, no surprises here¡ªthe levels do indeed reset post-evolution. Just like when I took down that ghastly bug creature, which was clearly at stage 2 but sitting smugly at level 1.


    I suspect my stats have seen a wee bit of an increase too, though I must confess, I wasn¡¯t exactly poring over the finer details of stat gains during evolution. My attention was squarely fixed on the broader upgrades they¡¯d offer me. The only stats that really grabbed my attention were in those blasted rainbow tomes¡ªhow could they not?


    Still, can¡¯t help but feel a smidge bitter about missing out on some of that evolution goodness. Anyway, onwards and upwards! Stamina¡¯s climbed up to a hearty 20 points, lovely. Willpower and Intelligence both nudged up by one, and Durability¡¯s had a little boost of two. Seems like I¡¯ll be getting the same stat gains on each level-up.


    Nothing earth-shattering, though. Just a little ¡°(II)¡± tacked on behind my species name and a shiny new organ tucked away in the mutation section. Delightful. Can''t wait for the new flavour of agony when it comes time to upgrade that one... Oh, the excitement! Haha... (Help.)


    I flicked the screen away and set my sights on the old bone tree, where those lanky, cursed-looking rat monsters were still trapped. Just the sight of them stirred something primal¡ªa hunger gnawing away inside me. I reckon it¡¯s part of the evolutionary perks, lucky me.


    Barn was already perched at the top of the tree, probably waiting for me to get a move on. So, with a deep breath, I edged closer to the eerie, bone-laden thing.


    Those rats¡¯ eyes locked onto mine¡ªthey knew what was coming. Like lambs to the slaughter, they were. And they were terrified.


    As much as my instincts balked at the thought of this crude, sacrilegious sort of hunt, I knew that if I didn¡¯t force myself through it, I¡¯d never tap into real magic. Proper magic. The sort one could weave and fine-tune, the kind I¡¯d dreamt about for so long. Maybe even earn my way onto a proper [Magic Path], if the fates were kind.


    So, I reached the nearest one. The bone cocoon around it shifted as I approached¡ªBarn¡¯s handiwork, no doubt¡ªexposing its throat just enough.


    Best get this over with quickly. I channelled Claw Swipe and, with all my might, slashed at its throat.


    Done in one clean stroke.


    [You have slain a Level 3 Valar rattus adultus (III).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Skill point obtained: +1.]


    No blood came; its eyes simply dimmed, the life snuffed out. The cocoon of bone slackened, its thorns slinking away from the rat¡¯s body, and it crumpled to the ground, now a hollowed, riddled corpse. A part of me briefly wondered how it had managed to stay alive before I finished it off, but the hunger roared inside me, overpowering any fleeting thoughts. Before I even realized, my teeth were sinking into its head. My jaw unhinged, maw wide, and I swallowed it whole in one savage gulp.


    Ahh, the taste hit me like a wave, once again. First came the crunch of its skull, those thin, brittle bones snapping under the pressure of my curved teeth, crumbling away. The brain was immediately next. Oh, this mushy texture, this richness of fatty taste, almost buttery in a way. The eyes were small and slippery, yet even they were popped between my teeth. Immediately adding a sharp, bitter tang. The cartilage in the ears, chewy, metallic.


    And then, with massive, greedy bites, I moved on. The neck went first. Sinewy. Tough. Yet tasty. The lungs, Metallic-tasting again, but with a certain... je ne sais quoi. The bittier yet scrumptious liver. The came the heart, ohh the heart. This firm and meaty morsel, and the sweetness it carried washed everything else away.


    There was something else lodged near the heart, though¡ªa tiny little thing, marble-sized, swirling with darkness. Probably its monster core. No interest in that¡ªspat it out and carried on with my feast.


    Before I knew it, the entire body was gone, devoured in a few feral, frenzied bites. The legs snapped like brittle twigs under my jaws; the spine crunched. The belly caved in under my claws, spilling out the softer bits¡ªstomach, intestines, kidneys¡ªall of it swallowed without so much as a pause.


    [Morphogen source assimilated.]


    [Morphogens acquired: +6.]


    Yet, even with the whole rat thing devoured, I wasn¡¯t full. Not even close. The hunger still gnawed at me, even more insistent than before, burrowing deeper into my bones. I needed more. Craved it like a mad creature.


    My eyes flicked to another rat as the bone tree released it. Its throat was exposed, and in an instant, I was on it, claws slashing through the air with a sharp, deadly whoosh, tearing its throat wide open.


    [You have slain a Level 7 Valar rattus adultus (III).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Skill point obtained: +1.]


    And so it continued¡ªkill, devour, level up, repeat.


    [You have slain a Level 1 Valar rattus adultus (III).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Skill point obtained: +1.]


    I had no idea how long it went on.


    [You have slain a Level 17 Valar rattus adultus (III).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Skill point obtained: +2.]


    The number of bodies?


    [You have slain a Level 1 Valar rattus adultus (III).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Skill point obtained: +1.]


    I lost count after the first few.


    [You have slain a Level 9 Valar rattus adultus (III).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Skill point obtained: +1.]


    All that drove me was that ravenous appetite. This insatiable gnawing that defied any logic.


    [You have slain a Level 8 Valar rattus adultus (III).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Skill point obtained: +1.]


    I wasn''t full, not truly. I was... satisfied, yes, but something inside still yearned for more. Eventually, the levels stopped coming, but I didn¡¯t. No, I knew what was pushing me forward, driving me mad with need. And before I could let a shred of doubt creep in, I had to finish the job.


    Magic.


    It was always about the Magic. That dream I¡¯d never forget¡ªthe tantalising, glorious prize. And nothing¡ªno, absolutely nothing, not even my scruples, not these instincts screaming inside about the disgrace of hunting this way¡ªwas going to stand between me and claiming it.

 Chapter 36: Somethings Wrong

    The hues were having a bit of a dance. Reds murmuring sweet nothings as they twirled with the greens, while yellows bounced about like overly enthusiastic crickets. It was all a grand, misty wave of colour draping itself all around me, painting this world of mine in every shade under the sun.


    The bone tree, though, it had scarpered. Gone, poof, like it had never been there. Maybe Barn had waved his bony tail and dismissed it. Who knows? Time was a bit wibbly-wobbly again, and I¡¯d lost track.


    The ground, however, wasn''t shy about leaving clues. All around, splattered with red ichor, and a hodgepodge of ratty monster remains. Bits and bobs of anatomy strewn about. A particularly grotesque jigsaw puzzle.


    A stray liver here, a couple of kidneys there, and was that half a spine? Couldn¡¯t be bothered to check, frankly.


    Then there were the marbles, dark as midnight and swirling with darkness. Monster cores, and quite a handsome collection of them too, scattered like confetti. The hues were doing their bit, lighting up everything in their usual cheery fashion.


    Everything, that is, except the screen floating in front of me. Notifications, loads of them. Mostly level-ups, but a few other odds and ends caught my eye.


    [Claw Swipe has reached Level 5.]


    [Maximum Level Attained: Advancement Available]


    [Crunch has reached Level 5.]


    [Maximum Level Attained: Advancement Available]


    [Level Cap Reached: Maximum Level Attained.]


    [Evolution Process: Available and Ready for Initiation.]


    Well, of course that was going to happen. I did just slay a horde of hapless monsters, didn¡¯t I?


    Hmm¡­ it also made sense that my skills would level up after all that. I remembered using a claw swipe here and there, but Crunch? Odd. Maybe that was just subconscious instincts kicking in. Still, this proved my theory: using them against stronger monsters made for faster growth.


    Perhaps I should have a chat with Barn, see if he could rustle up something a bit more challenging, perhaps a stage 4, for me to, umm, practice my skills on? It wasn¡¯t the most savoury idea, but it might be worth a thought, depending on how much longer we had left together.


    I summoned my stat screen.


    Name: Jade


    Level: 10


    Species: Hungerborn Hatchling (Draconis) (II) (+)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 15


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 32


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 40


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 27


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 0/0


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 29/29


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Claw Swipe: Level 5 (I) (+) (Advancement Available)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Stealth: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crunch: Level 5 (I) (+) (Advancement Available)


    </li>


    <li>


    Quick Dash: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes - Focusing Lenses (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws - Claw Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales - Colour Adaptation (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings - Improved Membranes (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac: +0


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 11


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 186


    </li>


    </ul>


    Blimey, that was a whole heap of Morphogens¡ª186 of them, to be precise. I didn¡¯t mean to do the maths, but my brain tends to work faster than my better judgment. Quicker than usual, too¡ªwait, was that thanks to the Intelligence boost? Never mind. The maths was clear: 31 rat monsters I¡¯d gorged on.


    Once again, I was standing on the precipice of evolution.


    And yet¡­ it didn¡¯t spark any joy. Not in the slightest.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Unearned.


    That word, that damned word, kept rattling around in my head. It was an echo that refused to fade. The worst part? I wasn¡¯t even fighting it. Deep down, I knew it was true. I was nothing more than a hypocritical dragon, betraying every instinct about what a true hunt should be. Instead of chasing prey, I¡¯d slaughtered and feasted on tied-up, helpless monsters. It left a sour taste, bitter as Emyth leaves, lingering in my mouth as I stared at my own stats.


    Not that I owed anyone an explanation. Bad dragon, evil dragon? Sure, I could live with that. Whatever the draconic equivalent is. But if that¡¯s what it took for me to carve mana veins into this body of mine, well, so be it.


    Unearned, it whispered again.


    It wasn¡¯t just a word; it was more like¡­ a feeling. This gnawing sense of emptiness beneath the surface. A kind of guilt, perhaps, or something more complex.


    I knew I could justify it a thousand times over if I wanted, but no amount of reasoning seemed to fill that hollowness. Perhaps it was the dragon part of me, the primal, instinctual side that craved a proper challenge, a real hunt. It craved the chase, the game, the thrill of outwitting prey, even if the odds were lopsided.


    And yet, the path I had chosen, it was a slave to efficiency over honor, power over pride. What a joke.


    But that could wait. There were more pressing matters to deal with. I took a glance around at the tunnel. The rubble, now stained with rat innards and blood. Bits of fur and bone were scattered about, remnants of my hunger-fueled rampage.


    Swallowing hard, I glanced up at Barn. ¡°Found the entrance to the dungeon yet?¡±


    Barn, ever the cheerful horror serpent, clacked his bony jaw three times in his usual happy fashion, though this time, he hesitated before giving another single, uncertain clack. Huh. He¡¯d found it, but what was with the pause?


    ¡°Something wrong?¡± I asked, suspicion creeping in.


    He gave me a solemn nod. Great.


    ¡°Elaborate.¡±


    The sound of bones shifting filled the air as Barn responded. ¡°Fort. Guarded. Elves.¡±


    Elves? That made my brow furrow. Hold on a minute¡ªbefore I even got to that can of worms... ¡°Barn, how far are we from this dungeon entrance?¡±


    The monsters in this part of the dungeon weren¡¯t exactly fearsome, aside from the occasional tough customer, like those creepers. So I figured we were still in the upper levels.


    Barn¡¯s answer¡ªthree clacks¡ªconfirmed it. Upper levels, just as I thought. But something else had been niggling at the back of my mind ever since I was dragged into this mess.


    This group of cultists? Absolutely rolling in it. Filthy rich, I mean. There were so many of them, all of them decked out in expensive enchanted robes, throwing around magic-tools like it was nothing. And then there were the pillars. Orichalcum¡ªpure orichalcum¡ªholding up their fancy hideout. The enchantments, the layers upon layers of them, all intricate and flawless. And their power levels? Of course. From that red-core mage to the yellow-core warriors, these guys weren¡¯t messing about.


    Even with all my shiny new upgrades, I¡¯d be flattened like a pancake if I tried to take any of them on. A single one of them would do me in, and they had a veritable army milling about down here. And the portals! Good grief, the portals! The things were so vast and fancy, I knew they weren¡¯t just for carting the likes of me around. Oh no, I just knew these lot were up to something far bigger in my homeland in Randall. The way those masked warriors¡¯ head honcho sneered at the Inquisitors from Alcoa, calling them ¡®dogs¡¯¡ªit reeked of history.


    But that didn¡¯t explain everything. Not until Barn muttered a single word¡ªa word that made the last piece of the puzzle click into place. Elves.


    Bloody hell, no way.


    If this were true, I was smack dab in a mess involving the Beastlands in the west of the continent of Nadreth, the very place where beast-kin like myself call home. And there, right in the middle, was the elven kingdom of Lethrindel. The human empire of Aurelia was further to the east. Very far from here.


    Of course, I knew all of this, what with being a bit of a history boffin myself. The untamed wilderness of Vraal''Kor¡ªalso affectionately dubbed The Beastlands¡ªhad always tickled my fancy. Why? Simple, really. My kin hailed from those parts, and it¡¯s the only place said to have a coastline safe enough for a spot of sailing. It¡¯s been my little dream, to gaze upon the sea one day.


    Oh, sure, the Aurelia Empire¡¯s got a coastline too, but the eastern shore¡¯s more of a glorified death trap¡ªmountains crawling with beasts that would sooner eat you than let you pass. To the north, Kaelthrim¡¯s mountains belonged to the dwarves, and while they had some sea access, it wasn¡¯t much safer.


    Now, elves? A fortress full of the pointy-eared lot? Well, that could only mean one thing¡ªthis dungeon was perched right on the border between the elven kingdom of Lethrindel and The Beastlands. Just my blasted luck.


    I drew in a deep breath. Right, pull yourself together. Stephan might know something. With that, I hoofed it over to the gaping hole in the wall. Granted, I was a bit stockier now¡ªlike a well-fed, medium-sized hound¡ªbut I could still wiggle about in tight spots. I dug my claws into the wall and scrambled up, craning my neck to get a good look inside.


    Suddenly, my ears were assaulted by the most horrendous shriek. Before I could blink, a fist came rocketing towards my face at breakneck speed. Reflex took over, and for a split second, I nearly took a chomp out of it. But I reconsidered, twisted my neck, and pulled back just in the nick of time.


    "Bloody hell!"


    "IT''S ME, YOU UTTER WUMPKIN!" I bellowed, my voice now more gravelly than my old squeaky self. Poor chap couldn¡¯t pull back his punch in time and¡ªWHAM!¡ªelbowed the wall instead. ¡°Ow, ow, ow!¡± he yelped, clutching his arm like a puppy that¡¯s just headbutted the furniture.


    I popped my head back through the hole, trying¡ªand failing¡ªmiserably to stifle a laugh. His attempt at walloping me was as flimsy as a soggy biscuit.


    ¡°JADE?!¡± The penny finally dropped. His face lit up with shock and perhaps a wee bewilderment.


    "Well, duh!" I drawled, raising an eyebrow, or whatever I had. "Who else were you expecting? The Queen of bloody Lethrindel?"


    Stephan''s eyes darted over my face, straying at my head, then down to the rest of me. ¡°What the hell happened to... you?¡± His voice trailed off as he blinked in disbelief.


    ¡°I¡¯ve evolved,¡± I said, grinning despite myself¡ªuntil I realised how that probably looked with my new horror maw. I quickly wiped the smile away. ¡°You know, like monsters do.¡±


    His eyes were wide, blinking rapidly as if to reset his brain. Then he tilted his head, mouth slightly open, not quite computing the whole ¡®monster evolution¡¯ business.


    But there wasn¡¯t time to go into a full biology lesson. ¡°I¡¯ve found the dungeon entrance,¡± I said quickly. ¡°But we¡¯ve got a teensy issue. I need your help¡ªor at least that noggin of yours.¡±


    Instructions were like a reset button for frazzled human brains, or beastkin brain in this case, and Stephan¡¯s was no exception. "I¡¯ll help in any way I can," he muttered, nodding.


    Before long, he scrambled up through the hole, his upper half popping through like a prairie dog. He didn¡¯t struggle much¡ªjust wide enough for him to squeeze through. Once on my side, I laid out the situation, every detail of the mess we were in.


    "Right then, let me get this straight¡ªyou said you weren¡¯t brought through the portal, yeah?"


    Stephan gave a nod, all solemn-like.


    "Indeed," he replied. "Not once did I feel the queasy wobble you mentioned comes with a portal hop. So, yes, I¡¯m quite certain now."


    "Right-o. So that settles it¡ªyou arrived the good old-fashioned way, through the dungeon¡¯s front door?"


    Another nod from Stephan, though his brow crinkled. "Yes, yes, but you''ve already told me that. Why¡­ are we going over it again?"


    I took a deep breath, preparing for the next bit. "Barn, are there any other entrances connected to this base? Apart from the one you so helpfully spied?" I asked the skeletal serpent coiled lazily around my wrist.


    "And who¡¯s Barn?" Stephan piped up immediately, curiosity written all over his face. Half of me wanted to say, "Oh, just the same charming creature who gobbled up those cultists," but that would open a whole can of worms I wasn¡¯t quite ready for.


    "My guardian," I answered with a shrug, "sort of. I''ll explain later. Let¡¯s stay focused for now, shall we?"


    Barn gave a negative response¡ªthree sharp clacks of his bony jaw. Funny thing was, Stephan didn¡¯t react in the slightest. Either he hadn¡¯t heard the clacking, or he was marvellously good at pretending. Hmm, mental note made: looks like I¡¯m the only one who can hear him. Handy to know.


    Now, just one last thing. And oh, how I desperately wanted to be dead wrong about this... maybe it was just some undiscovered door and those pesky cultists had simply taken up residence in that fortress.


    "And what were they wearing?" I asked Barn. "Anything stand out?"

 Chapter 37: Escape

    Stephan sat there, looking utterly bewildered, but¡ªtrue to form¡ªnot a word passed his lips about my rather peculiar line of questioning. Perhaps he suspected I was onto something. I could almost hear the rusty old cogs grinding away in his head¡ªwell, probably. The man had this infuriating habit of keeping whatever harebrained thoughts were bouncing around in that skull of his to himself. Always hesitating, for reasons only he knew.


    Not today though. Oh no, today I was determined to dig out whatever nugget of knowledge he was hoarding.


    But before I could push further, Barn piped up, treating me to his usual bone-scraping symphony. Again, not a twitch from Stephan. Yep, that settled it¡ªonly I had the dubious honour of hearing the clattering clacks of my skeletal companion. Quite handy, that.


    I started connecting the dots, sorting out the jumble of details Barn was feeding me in his typically scattered fashion. Clearing my throat, I spoke up: "Their uniforms had... a crest, of sorts. A silver stag, mid-leap, over a shape¡ªcurved, like a crescent moon, maybe? Embroidered in gold, no less. And beneath the armour, lined with deep crimson velvet. I may be missing a few bits here and there, but that should paint you a picture."


    I hadn¡¯t the foggiest idea what it all meant, but I had a sneaky suspicion Stephan might. After all, he came from some ¡®sect¡¯ near the border. He knew about this labyrinth¡ªseemed rather familiar with it, in fact. Come to think of it, I¡¯d never actually asked where he''d been kidnapped from. There was all that business with his family being slaughtered, so maybe I¡¯d avoided the topic without realising.


    As I finished recounting the details, I noticed Stephan''s brows knotting together in that way of his. Ah, hope fluttered in my chest like a caged bird.


    "Anything on your mind?" I asked, gently nudging him.


    "Ahh, it¡¯s just¡­ the description you gave me, it matches the Elven knights from the House of Valendris. They¡¯re the ones who oversee the borders. And if this fortress is at the entrance to the dungeon, then yes, I¡¯m fairly certain I know where we are. But¡­"


    Ah, there it was¡ªthe ¡°but.¡± Always a ¡°but.¡±


    "But...?" I shot back, practically vibrating with impatience. For the love of all things holy, man, just spit it out!


    "Why are we being so cautious around them? They¡¯re the official knights of House Valendris, after all. Shouldn¡¯t I just pop up there and report what¡¯s happened down here?"


    Now, I don¡¯t know what sort of face I made, but judging by the way he recoiled like he''d bitten into a lemon, it wasn¡¯t a pleasant one.


    I let out a long, theatrical sigh. "Right, two things. First: how, pray tell, are you planning to explain the carnage down here? Every single cultist met a demise so ghastly, there¡¯s not even a fingernail left to show for it. And you? The lone survivor? You gonna prance up there and tell them you were rescued by some divine act of mercy? Engage your brain for a moment. What do you reckon they¡¯ll do to you? Give you a pat on the back and send you on your merry way?"


    His face contorted like he''d just realised he''d been served cold beans for dinner. Reality was sinking in now. The thing about Beastkin? Treatment¡¯s the same wherever you go¡ªdismal at best. And the Elves? Well, their hatred ran deeper than a grave.


    I¡¯d never laid eyes on an Elf myself¡ªnever had the misfortune¡ªbut the rumours? That stuff tended to travel faster than the wind.


    ¡®Lucky you weren¡¯t born in Lethrindel¡ªthere, they¡¯ll have your guts for garters before you¡¯ve even drawn your first breath.¡¯


    ¡®Stray too close to their borders, and you¡¯ll end up a decorative head on a spike, skull polished and proudly displayed on some Elf¡¯s mantelpiece.¡¯


    ¡®Better to beg in a human slum than set foot in Elven lands¡ªat least the humans might let you keep your skin.¡¯


    Now, sure, those might be tall tales, but every story¡¯s got a kernel of truth buried somewhere in the muck. Wouldn¡¯t fancy testing the waters, personally.


    And then there was the second reason. I caught a glimpse of Stephan¡¯s face and, for a moment, hesitated. This next bit¡ªwell, I wasn¡¯t entirely sure it was true, but still...


    ¡°As for the second reason,¡± I began, catching Stephan¡¯s attention straight away, ¡°Look, this one¡¯s more of a hunch, something that¡¯s been nagging at me. So, there¡¯s only one way into this cultist hidey-hole, right? A single fortress guarding the dungeon¡¯s entrance, and it¡¯s crawling with¡ªnow that we know¡ªknights from the bloody House of Valendris.¡±


    ¡°Erm¡­ was there supposed to be a point to that?¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°For pity''s sake, let me finish!¡± I growled. ¡°You¡¯re not seeing what I¡¯m seeing. This place, Stephan, it¡¯s an absolute treasure trove! The sheer wealth lying around here¡ªritual tools, those intricate inscriptions, magical paraphernalia¡ªall top-tier stuff. This isn¡¯t some raggedy back-alley cult. No, this is a proper operation. The riches alone, what I¡¯ve seen down here, could buy you generations of luxury in the Aurelia Empire. Are you starting to catch my drift?¡±


    Stephan opened his mouth, then promptly closed it again. Oh, for the love of Thalador!


    ¡°DON¡¯T YOU DARE!¡± I barked, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Maybe it was the thunder in my voice, but I had to say it. ¡°You¡¯ve got this maddening habit of bottling up whatever you''re thinking. Stop it! I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve realised, but one¡¯s gut instincts are usually spot on. The second you start overthinking, everything gets muddled with doubt and nonsense. So, just spit it out, man! I need you to be blunt!¡±


    ¡°All right, all right!¡± he stammered. ¡°I was just trying to gather my thoughts, okay?¡±


    ¡°Like hell you were! This is the fifth time it¡¯s happened, and you¡¯ve yet to say a bloody word! You keep swallowing your thoughts!¡±


    That stopped him in his tracks.


    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t think what I had to say was all that important.¡±


    ¡°Every single one of your thoughts matters, Stephan! Whether they¡¯re important or not, let me be the judge of that!¡±


    He swallowed hard, rubbing his eyes. ¡°Okay, well¡­ I don¡¯t know if what I was going to say matters anymore, but from what you¡¯re implying¡­ are you suggesting these cultists down here might be in cahoots with House Valendris?¡±


    At last! ¡°Put it this way, when all the dots start connecting, the truth practically jumps up and slaps you in the face. Our brains are designed to spot patterns. When everything lines up this neatly, is it really a wild guess? I¡¯ve laid out the whole puzzle for you, and we¡¯ve both arrived at the same blinking conclusion. Doesn¡¯t seem like a mere implication anymore, does it?¡±


    ¡°So¡­ we can¡¯t leave this dungeon?¡± He finally sighed, a man at the end of his tether.


    ¡°Not by that door, that¡¯s for certain. If there¡¯s even a whisper of a chance that we¡¯re right, we can¡¯t hang about down here like a pair of ninnies either.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a pair of¡­ ninnies?¡±


    Oh dear, another dream term slipped out. ¡°A pair of¡­ well, fools?¡±


    ¡°Makes sense,¡± he muttered, rubbing his chin with his¡­ trembling hands? Huh? What was up with that? ¡°Hmm, if they¡¯re really in cahoots, they¡¯d twig something was off sooner or later, wouldn¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°Precisely! Couldn¡¯t have put it better myself. For all we know, they¡¯re on their way down here right now for a nice little investigation¡­ eh?¡± I could always ask Barn. Threw the question at him, got a no in response.


    ¡°We should be safe for a bit,¡± I assured Stephan, maybe he was just feeling anxious.


    ¡°Another handy titbit from your¡­ ¡®guardian¡¯?¡± He quirked a brow, trying for a grin, but I could see the glimmer of unshed tears in his eyes, reflected by those hues.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I rasped, ¡°but we¡¯ve still got a chance. Well, you¡¯ve still got a chance. I promised, didn¡¯t I? Maybe not to you, but to myself¡ªswore I¡¯d find a way out and make sure you¡¯re safe. It¡¯s just¡­ ever since I became, well, this, my thoughts are like a knotted mess.¡± I attempted a laugh as I walked, but it came out as a wheezy croak.


    Instead of walking alongside me, he just stood there, stiff as a statue. If he stayed any longer, I half-expected pigeons to land on his head. ¡°What would I even do¡­ after getting up there?¡± His voice cracked, and only then did I notice the tears¡ªquiet little rivers carving paths down his dirt-streaked face.


    ¡°Hah, I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said with a breathless laugh, swiping at the tears like they were an afterthought. But his hands trembled. ¡°I know you¡¯re trying to save me, but¡­ why bother? I might have a chance¡ªa tiny one¡ªif I head up there. I won¡¯t be shot on sight, at least. So why not let me take my chances? Why risk your life too?¡±


    I squinted at him. Risking my life? For him? Ahh, if only he knew. But that wasn¡¯t the point right now. I had to rewind a bit.


    ¡°Wait¡ªwhat do you mean, ¡®What would I even do after getting up there?¡¯¡± I asked, with a tilt of my head. Too innocent. He needed a push.


    ¡°¡­¡± He kept quiet, avoiding my eyes like I¡¯d just caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.


    ¡°Hmm?¡± I leaned in a little, adding some weight to my voice. A touch of authority never hurt.


    He rolled his eyes, new tears pooling up. ¡°I¡¯ve lost everything. What¡¯s left for me? My parents are gone¡ªall dead because of me. The sect wouldn¡¯t even let me linger around, not after this. Maybe I deserve it¡­ for being this weak.¡±


    Weak? I blinked. That was the last word I¡¯d use to describe him. The man had watched his whole world burn, and here he stood, still kicking¡ªwell, more or less. I couldn¡¯t imagine losing my father like that. Just the thought sent a shiver down my spine. But¡­ maybe I could help him see it differently.


    Stepping closer, I made sure the rubble crunched just enough under my claws to sound¡­ purposeful. I didn¡¯t blurt out my little ace in the hole¡ªnot yet. There was something else he needed first.


    ¡°You? Weak?¡± I snorted softly, careful to keep my voice from sounding too sharp. My anatomy wasn''t built for gentleness, but I tried. ¡°Stephan, you¡¯re braver than anyone I¡¯ve met.¡±


    He blinked at me, a little bewildered. Maybe it was the way he treated me¡ªor the fact that we shared a kinship. Both beastkins, both kidnapped for sacrifice. But there was more. He had lost everything. And even after all that, he saved me.


    ¡°When that blasted white shockwave knocked me out cold, you didn¡¯t even hesitate. Dragged my sorry tail out of there without a second thought¡ªeven though I had a hand in what happened to those cultists. Even knowing I¡¯d turned into¡­ well, this.¡± I gestured to my dragonish form with a toothy grin.


    He let out a wheeze of a laugh, so I pressed on.


    ¡°You¡¯re not running from fate, Stephan. Someone once told me none of us can outrun it. But here¡¯s the trick: it¡¯s not about escaping it. It¡¯s about how we carry it. And trust me, I know a thing or two about carrying heavy things.¡± I chuckled.


    For a moment, he stared at me, the tears drying up. Was that a flicker of something in his eyes? Bah, maybe I was imagining things.


    ¡°...¡±


    ¡°Right!¡± I wrapped my tail around his hand, giving it a light squeeze. ¡°I think you¡¯ve got more reason to keep going than you realize. So pull yourself together, will you? Time to stop blubbering.¡±


    ¡°But still¡­ you¡¯d be risking your life if we go through that entrance!¡± His voice wavered.


    I grinned wide, flashing those nasty curved teeth. ¡°Whoever said we were using that entrance?¡±

 Chapter 38: The World Above

    I scurried about, nabbing another swirling marble of inky darkness, leaping over bits of rubble to snatch up two more. These little beastly baubles were hardly difficult to spot¡ªmy vision''s vibrant hues practically shouted their whereabouts. Monster cores!


    Before long, I¡¯d gathered most of them. Twenty-six out of thirty-one, give or take. The rest? Well, either I¡¯d lost them during all that chaos or... erm, possibly swallowed them in that ravenous frenzy. But no matter! This haul should do nicely.


    I strolled over to Stephan, presenting him my spoils.


    ¡°What on earth are these?¡± Stephan squinted, trying to see through the murk.


    ¡°Monster cores, mate.¡± One of them was barely bigger than a pebble, but since Stephan had pockets (lucky chap), he could stash them away.


    ¡°Where¡­ where did you find them?¡± he asked, looking rather puzzled.


    ¡°Oh, umm, just found them scattered about! I reckon when that monster on the ceiling chomped down those spiders, it spat these out. Must¡¯ve not fancied them, eh?¡± A half-truth, of course¡ªthe ¡°monster¡± was me, and those cores belonged to a bunch of rather unfortunate oversized rats.


    Still, they¡¯d fetch a good price, I was certain of it. Leaving them behind would¡¯ve been criminal.


    Oddly enough, Stephan¡¯s spirits seemed to perk up a little. I hadn¡¯t the faintest idea why or how I¡¯d managed it, but at that moment, it just felt like the right thing to do. Did my rambling actually help? Who knows, but it was clear that something had lifted his mood, and that was enough. I couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. I¡¯d have felt rotten if I¡¯d just left him there like that.


    We pressed onward, though I could tell Stephan was brimming with questions¡ªchief among them, I¡¯m sure, was my grand escape plan. Not that he¡¯d dare ask, ofcourse; he¡¯d bottled it all up, as usual. Honestly, this guy! But I decided to let him stew in silence. It was better that way. No point in spoiling the surprise¡ªor worse, terrifying him with the truth. For now, I was just relieved he was still tagging along.


    One thing, however, threatened to crack my ever-cool fa?ade¡ªevery step Stephan took was accompanied by a wet, gut-churning squelch. I really, really didn¡¯t want him knowing what it was.


    ¡°Erm¡­ what in the name of all things decent is this¡­ squishy stuff?¡± he finally asked. Drat! I could see him peering at the floor, squinting hard in the dim light. ¡°Feels like I¡¯ve just stepped into a soggy sponge.¡±


    I winced. It was almost bizarre how I could see everything with perfect clarity, while Stephan was practically blind in here. Well, almost. I knew he could see a bit, but it was all gloom for him. Underneath his boots? Globs of rat anatomy. Hmm, kidney or liver, I couldn¡¯t tell from here. Oh well.


    ¡°Ah, that¡­¡± I said, hurriedly throwing my wings out, stepping in front of him like a shield, attempting to block the carnage from view. Though, in hindsight, probably unnecessary, seeing as it was everywhere. ¡°Nothing to worry about. Just, uh... sticky spider webs! Nasty, clingy stuff, y¡¯know? You can¡¯t walk ten feet without stepping in it. No big deal, it¡¯ll come off eventually. Keep moving.¡±


    I cringed the moment those words left my mouth. Brilliant, Jade. Could¡¯ve just said they were spider organs left behind by that creeper¡ªat least that would¡¯ve kept my story consistent! My brain was all over the place.


    ¡°Spider webs?¡± Stephan raised an eyebrow, gingerly lifting his boot and pressing it back down into the squishy¡­ kidney? Liver? Oh, who knows at this point. ¡°This doesn¡¯t feel like webs, Jade. More like¡­ I don¡¯t know, a bag of mashed potatoes exploded under my foot.¡±


    I let out an awkward chuckle, flapping my wings dramatically. ¡°Trust me, it¡¯s webs. The worst kind! Super sticky. Probably picked up all sorts of rubbish from those nasty spiders.¡±


    Stephan didn¡¯t look convinced. He squinted again and lifted his hand, probably about to summon some mana and light things up. I cut in immediately.


    ¡°Whoa, no! Don¡¯t do that. I can see perfectly in the dark, and light might attract something unpleasant. Or worse, make something angry.¡±


    Stephan shrugged. ¡°Alright, as long as it¡¯s not something alive¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh no, definitely not alive,¡± I blurted, far too quickly. Dead. Totally dead. In my tummy, actually.


    He nodded. ¡°Right. Well, let¡¯s just keep moving. I¡¯ve had quite enough of stepping in whatever this is.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t exactly in the mood for explanations either. Anything that made me seem more monstrous than I already was, well, best kept under wraps. So, we quickened our pace, squelching through the muck with as much dignity as one could muster. At last, we reached the entrance to our hideout, and without so much as a cautious peek outside, I stepped forward. Barn was with me, after all.


    Right then, the plan was as clear as day: have Barn whip up a fresh tunnel with his nifty disintegration shield, effectively giving us a cheeky little side door to the outside world. Once we popped out the other end, we¡¯d be golden. The only snag was deciding where to plonk this new exit¡ªsomewhere discreet, away from nosy parkers. Slipping away unnoticed, not a crumb left behind. Of course, going back and staying up wasn¡¯t in the cards for me; not anymore. Far too dangerous. I¡¯d be returning back here.


    But, I knew just the spot for this secret escape.


    Soon enough, I was in a familiar part of the tunnel. The walls around me shimmered from the hues, apart from one suspiciously shadowy bit. Smooth, circular, and just about wide enough for me and Stephan, though, umm, he¡¯d be squeezing through like a cork in a bottle. But, not that he¡¯d be needing any maneuvering.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    As his feet left the ground, a look of utter gobsmacked confusion painted his face. He floated beside me, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights.


    "Don¡¯t fight it," I quipped, trying to keep things casual. Not that he could do much about it. Most people lose their marbles when they¡¯re suddenly bobbing about in the air, brains aren¡¯t wired for this sort of caper. But, I still said it, perhaps to calm him.


    And just like that¡ªwhoosh¡ªwe were face-first into what looked like solid rock. I went in first, couldn¡¯t see Stephan¡¯s expression, but judging by his stunned silence as he followed, it was a proper jaw-dropper.


    Inside, everything was just as I¡¯d remembered¡ªwalls¡¯ smooth bark like surface, with glowing lines of sap snaking along them like veins. The only new feature was a gaping great hole that popped up as soon as we barged in.


    Glancing back, I saw the illusion still held firm, hiding the breach in the stone. The hues remained unchanged, which confirmed my suspicion: the enchantment wasn¡¯t directly tied to the material itself but was a more independent magic¡ªsomething I had only guessed at, but now seemed certain of.


    There wasn¡¯t much time to dwell on it. We began to rise again, Barn¡¯s disintegration shield carving through the rock effortlessly as we ascended. It wasn¡¯t violent or explosive; the stone simply vanished, like dust swept into nothingness. Each layer dissolved in silence, leaving no trace behind, no debris, just a clean void stretching upward as we floated higher, the path behind us erased.


    We continued our ascent. The tunnel wasn¡¯t exactly roomy¡ªjust enough for us to shimmy through¡ªbut I stayed close to Stephan. Couldn¡¯t miss the disbelief radiating off him; he was practically vibrating with it. At one point, I caught him glancing down. Bad move, that. He snapped his head back up so fast, I nearly laughed. Maybe it was the sight of endless blackness below, or perhaps the sheer horror of seeing... well, nothing at all. Either way, it rattled him good.


    Then, just as I was starting to wonder how much higher we had to go, a crack of light pierced the darkness above. A tiny glimmer at first, but it gradually grew, spilling silver beams down on us as the ceiling above cracked open. Soon enough, we were floating up into the night.


    And there we were¡ªin a forest, of all places. Tall, skeletal trees loomed overhead, their branches all twisted and tangled together like some massive, knobbly web. Not exactly the most welcoming sight. I¡¯d told Barn not to plop us anywhere near that fortress, but he didn¡¯t exactly get a specific brief, so here we were, in the middle of trees I didn¡¯t recognize.


    The trees¡¯ branches were a right mess, forming a thick lattice that blocked most of the sky. Except for this one blessed opening, where no tree dared to stand. No branchy nonsense blocking the way, just a large, clear space letting in slivers of moonlight. And for the first time in what felt like ages, I bathed in that light. Proper, natural light.


    Instinct took over. I closed my eyes and let the world come to me through everything else. The damp earth and moss filled my nose, grounding me. A faint rustle reached my ears¡ªsomething more than just the wind. I focused in on it. It was close. Too close.


    Right¡­ behind me.


    My neck snapped back, nearly giving poor Stephan a heart attack. The instant my gaze landed on the source, a low snarl ripped through the air. My heart kicked into high gear.


    Another thing that jarred me was the absence of hues above. I''d gotten so used to them lighting up everything around me, giving clarity in the darkest corners. Without them, the shadows felt wrong somehow¡ªunnatural, like they didn¡¯t belong here. And from those unnatural shadows, two glowing eyes gleamed¡ªslitted, furious.


    A panther-like beast slunk from the treeline. Silent. Menacing. Its fur was sleek and black, glistening in the moonlight as it prowled forward. The muscles rippled beneath its coat, and I had no doubt it packed a serious punch. Then there were the teeth¡ªcurved like scythes, poking out of its mouth in a rather unpleasant way. But its eyes¡ªoh, those eyes¡ªstill glowed that sickly yellow, and they were locked onto me.


    A part of me relished the moment. Ahh, a challenger. So much raw confidence, but something was off about its movement. A limp? A hesitation? Before I could fully dissect it, the beast crouched low, muscles tensing like a coiled spring. Quick Dash. I recognized the skill immediately.


    Before I could even blink, let alone shout a warning to the creature¡ªto tell it to wait, to hold off¡ªthis wasn¡¯t a proper challenge! It¡¯d die before even touching me! It vanished from where it stood.


    And then, it was upon us.


    Its claws, razor-sharp and retracted like gleaming daggers, aimed straight for my throat. Yet... yet.


    The moment they touched Barn¡¯s shield, the first claw disintegrated¡ªinstantaneous, like ash caught in a sudden gust. Gone.


    The panther-beast didn¡¯t even have time to process its fate. Its entire paw followed next, vanishing from the tips inward. A ripple spread up its leg, erasing muscle, fur, and bone in the blink of an eye. The howl that followed was something primal, raw, visceral, yet short, as the creature couldn¡¯t halt its momentum.


    It slammed into the invisible barrier. Every part of its body that made contact simply ceased to exist. The limb, the shoulder, the chest, all vanished. Dissolving mid-motion.


    In the blink of an eye, the beast was no more. Its hulking mass disintegrated, bit by bit, until all that lingered was a faint memory of where it once loomed. And then, just like that, silence returned to the world.


    Barn gently set us down, though¡­ umm¡­ both Stephan and I had expressions that could only be described as utterly flabbergasted.


    Uhh..


    ¡°Aaaaand, we¡¯re out! Blimey, that was a close one!¡± I flapped my wings without thinking, wriggling about like an overexcited duckling.


    Stephan blinked, twice, slow and deliberate. ¡°Yeah, umm... not sure I even want to know how you pulled that off.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that? Yeah, that was my guardian doing his thing. And you¡¯re probably right ¡ª best not to ask.¡±


    He just stood there for a bit, eyes closed, letting the moonlight bathe his face for a moment.


    ¡°Still¡­ don¡¯t care how you did it, but I¡¯m grateful. Truly. Thanks for saving me.¡±


    ¡°Well, you saved mine too! Well, I saved yours first, then you saved mine, and now I¡¯ve done it again! So, by my reckoning, you owe me one now!¡± I grinned.


    He chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°You know, you almost sounded like a different person back there¡­¡±


    I did feel different. There was this fog in my brain, creeping back in, but for that one moment, everything had felt crystal clear. It was... something.


    ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s next?¡± He glanced around, clearly spooked by the forest. Not that I blamed him ¡ª that monster did jump on us the second we poked our heads out.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, the guardian¡¯ll see you off to the nearest safe spot. Somewhere near the start of the Beastlands, I reckon. Just guide him a bit.¡±


    ¡°And you?¡± His eyes narrowed, curious.


    Ah yes, my life. ¡°What about me? Don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be returning to civilization any time soon, for umm, obvious reasons.¡±


    He hesitated. ¡°I mean, I could say you¡¯re my magical beast, all tamed and everything. You could come with me. I owe you my life, after all. Maybe we could figure out how to undo this mess together?¡±


    Ah, if only it were that simple. ¡°Nah, don¡¯t fret. I¡¯ve already got a way to undo it all.¡± Not that I was in any rush. The idea of a human body again? Ugh, how dreadfully dull! ¡°For now, I need to stay here. Maybe one day, when I¡¯m back to my former human glory, I¡¯ll pop by for a visit¡ªyou and your sister won¡¯t be able to get rid of me.¡±


    He smiled, and I swear something stirred deep inside of me at the sight of it. ¡°Bloodtide Sect,¡± he said softly. ¡°That¡¯s where you¡¯ll find us. Ask about the Rakiran Steppes; my village, Carthak Ridge, moves through there. We¡¯ll be waiting for you.¡±


    Ah, hang on. That reminded me. ¡°So... who¡¯s this Princess Vernia you kept mistaking me for?¡±

 Chapter 39: Left Alone

    Well, I wasn''t exactly parading around with my usual mug now, was I? Couldn¡¯t help but wish for a mirror¡ªor a puddle, at the very least¡ªto catch a glimpse of my current visage. Perhaps there was a lake nearby where I could have a cheeky peek... but skulking off for a gander in these woods? Absolute tomfoolery, that. Yet, the urge to know was gnawing at me like a particularly pesky itch. Was it worth the risk? Probably not. But curiosity¡¯s a right nasty piece of work sometimes. More so now than ever. And Lotte had the gall to say there was nothing wrong with my head! Bah!


    Stephan was chewing over his thoughts before finally speaking up. "When I first saw you, you looked just like her. Right down to those blue eyes and the shape of your horns."


    Someone who looked just like me? Well, bugger me sideways, now I was intrigued.


    "Someone you knew?" I nudged, raising an eyebrow¡ªor at least, the spot where my eyebrow would be if I still had one.


    "Well, not exactly," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. "I¡¯d seen her... maybe three times, at most? She¡¯s the daughter of our sect¡¯s Matriarch. Princess Vernia was what they called her¡ªthough ¡®Princess¡¯ is more of a title. She was next in line to inherit the Matriarch title."


    Fascinating, that. To think my old face was a dead ringer for some high-flying princess. Still, this only made me more curious. Beastkins always tickled my fancy¡ªthey weren''t all gathered under one banner like the other three races. No, they had their sects, each one with its own little population.


    I had thumbed through a few dusty tomes at Jord¡¯s about the lot. Mostly those rumoured to have warriors and mages of golden core calibre. There was this Ironfang Sect, famous as all get-out. Their race was Tusked Voruun¡ªhulking, muscle-bound beast-kin with tusks protruding from their lower jaws. Proper fearsome, they were. And their leader was known to have reached the golden core.


    Not that I could dig up much about them from human lands. For obvious reasons. Humans loathed them, and it made me wonder if the sentiment was mutual¡ªwhether Beastkins held a grudge against other species as well.


    But before I went haring off down that rabbit hole, there was the burning question at hand. I knew I was a dragon at the moment, but if there was a Beastkin race that resembled my old form so closely that I had a doppelganger as their princess, I needed to know more.


    "Now then, I understand that each Beastkin sect has a variety of races under their banner, but I was curious¡ªwhich one do you belong to? And by extension, this... Princess Vernia?"


    Stephan went silent, simply staring at me. I let out a nervous chuckle. "Did I just ask something daft?"


    He shook his head, chuckling. "Hah, no wonder your manner of speaking is so similar to those humans. I initially assumed you hailed from Vraal''Kor as well¡ªjust from a different sect."


    Ah, yes. Probably should''ve mentioned where those damned cultists nicked me from. "Aurelia Empire. Randall, to be precise. That''s where I grew up. Hah, should''ve mentioned that earlier."


    Stephan just laughed even harder. "No wonder! I should have guessed from your accent. It¡¯s as plain as the nose on your face. No one from Vraal''Kor would sound like that!"


    Hold on a tick. "Wait, just how different is it, then? I mean, we''re speaking the same language, aren''t we? Yours isn¡¯t exactly miles apart from mine, if you ask me."


    "That''s because I learned to mimic the empire¡¯s accent."


    I squinted at him, "I¡¯m guessing there¡¯s a story behind that?"


    Stephan nodded. "Well, the Bloodtide Sect is primarily made up of Horned Drakkaris, and both Princess Vernia and I belong to that race. And from what I can tell, you were one too. Though, it appears¡­ you weren''t aware of that?"


    "I¡ªwell, I grew up mostly around humans. So, I had no clue what I was. Always wondered, though. I knew I was a ...horned Beastkin, but there are plenty that fit the bill. Never once did I hear of Horned Drakkaris. Naturally, information was scarce. There wasn''t much about us in the books I had access to."


    "Well, that figures. Sooo¡­ about me, then. In Vraal''Kor, every sect, including the Bloodtide, values strength above all else. It¡¯s practically ingrained in our culture. I¡­ was born with scarce magic, which is as good as a curse over there. In Vraal''Kor, duels settle everything. And when I say ''everything,'' I mean everything. Disputes, grievances, even trivial squabbles¡ªsettled with a duel. Bring shame upon a family, and they''d challenge you to a duel to preserve their honor. While there are rules, they¡¯re mainly for the higher stages. Early on, it''s more of a free-for-all."


    I could see where this was headed..


    He carried on, "It¡¯s all in the name of the Ancestral Guardian''s will, they¡¯d say. A way to keep the bloodlines strong, to weed out the weak. So, when it came to me, born with magic so scarce that I couldn''t even form a black core, it was a given that I''d be an outcast. Ostracized from the very start. I was expected to keep my head down, never make a fuss, never draw attention. Even among family, my presence was barely tolerated."


    He paused for a moment before continuing. "Our ¡­rituals are harsh. Coming-of-age ceremonies involve trials, tests of strength. Those who fail are marked, not physically, but culturally. Seen as blemishes on the sect. My parents¡­ they had their reputations to think about. They couldn''t afford to have a son who couldn''t even summon enough magic to defend the family honor in a duel. There was a ¡­tradition, that such children, the magically weak, were sent away. For them, it was a matter of survival; for the family, it was to avoid disgrace.¡±


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Stephan shifted, perching himself on a jagged rock, releasing a sigh.


    ¡°So, in the end, my parents decided to send me away. To the human lands. They said it was to give me a chance at life, where magic wasn''t the be-all and end-all. But it was also to rid themselves of a liability. They arranged for me to live among humans, to learn their ways. It was with pointed purpose; I was to blend in, adapt, and maybe, just maybe, find a place where I wasn¡¯t judged solely on the magic in my veins."


    I inwardly winced at the thought. Hah, humans could be quite a pain too. They, like so many, held magic in the highest regard. But... what I¡¯d seen in Aurelia wasn¡¯t nearly as brutal as what Stephan described. Perhaps having a humdrum job here would be infinitely preferable to being challenged over a slight misstep and killed in a duel. I knew the Beastlands'' inhabitants were primal by nature, but this¡­ this was something else entirely.


    But still...


    ¡°Do you hate them for it? For valuing honour above your life?¡±


    He let out a bitter chuckle. "I don¡¯t. Why would I? I loved them¡ªso, so much. My mother never truly abandoned me. She was an enchanter¡ªor, well, what we called a Coresmith in the Beastlands. Our magic was worlds apart from anything I¡¯ve ever seen among humans. Not just in nature, but in how it was applied. Human enchanters used external materials to craft their devices, but a Coresmith... they used their own internal mana as the very foundation of their work. I saw it when my mother forged things; her mana became something physical as it passed through the forge. I wasn¡¯t allowed to study it until I¡¯d proven myself, but it was mesmerising. Nothing like what I¡¯ve seen from human enchanters.¡±


    My eyes widened at this revelation¡ªa tangible form of mana, as an actual ingredient? Bloody hell! How could that even work? My curiosity about Vraal¡¯Kor was only growing by the second. How different was their magic? What paths did they tread? I wanted¡ªno, needed¡ªto know more. But that was a mystery for another day. I couldn¡¯t go anywhere even if I wanted to.


    Stephan, oblivious to my inner ramblings, carried on. ¡°Hah, by the time I left, I had five manashield bracers, two warded amulets, and a shadowcloak mantle. She armed me to the teeth, trying to keep me safe. How could I ever hate her? She loved me more than anything. I just wish¡­ I could¡¯ve told her that I loved her just the same.¡±


    He dabbed at his eyes, not saying a word at first, then let out a laugh. "Hah, sorry about that. Went on far longer than I should''ve. But yes, in a nutshell, that''s how I ended up with this human accent. Spent the last five years in the capital city of Caerlum. Mother and Father dropped by last month, I was quite shocked. Little sister finally ascended to Yellow Core. Wanted me at the ceremony." His smile turned dark. "Now I wish they''d just forgotten about me and never visited."


    And that''s how he lost them, wasn''t it? Those cultists caught him while he was on his way back home with his parents.


    I swallowed hard. Fate, as Lotte would say. Was everyone''s end preordained in such a grim fashion? Mine would have been, too, if Lotte hadn''t been there. But hadn''t I managed to dodge my fate? The one that led straight to death? Didn''t Lotte contradict herself when she said Fate was a relentless beast?


    I...didn''t know. Maybe I was missing something. It was Lotte, after all. How could she ever be wrong? I shoved the thought aside; I could ask her directly, after all.


    "Are you alright?" I asked.


    "Hah... I don''t know. But it felt good to let it all out. You''re a good listener, Jade."


    Heh, maybe it was time to switch topics. I puffed out my chest. "Oh, that I am! I can even dish out some good advice...sometimes... after listening... though not always, mind you. My thoughts can be all over the place! Also, now that I think about it, ''Stephan'' is a rather odd name for you. Sounds like something you''d hear in the capital. I assume it''s not your real name?"


    He chuckled. "No, it¡¯s not. Had to change it. Tradition, you know? Leave the sect, leave the name behind. So I picked this one to blend in."


    "Well, what''s your real name, then?" I prodded.


    "Are you sure you want to know?"


    I nodded eagerly, my serpentine head bobbing up and down.


    "Yaroslav Koravich. That was my name. It means the opposite of what I am. Fierce and brave, my arse." He let out a chuckle, the sound more bitter than amused.


    Now that was a proper Beastkin name if I ever heard one. "So, all this time, you were just putting on this accent! Go on, then, let''s hear you say something in your proper voice!"


    "I wasn¡¯t faking it! I learned it!" he protested.


    "Oh, I don''t care. Just say something!"


    "Erm, what do you want me to say?"


    "Just announce your name! Say you''re fierce and brave!" That must be what his name meant, after all.


    "No!"


    "YES!"


    He sighed, looking more exasperated than anything, before clearing his throat. "Eet ees I, Yaroslav Koravich. Ze feerce and brrahve!"


    I stood there, momentarily stunned, before bursting into a fit of laughter¡ªthe kind that wheezed and rattled out of my maw in the most unsettling fashion. Stephan joined in, his laughter mixing with mine. ¡°Oh, ancestors, I never thought I''d hear myself say that!¡±


    "Well, you¡¯ve said it, now you ought to believe it too!"


    "Suppose it''s high time I started, isn¡¯t it?"


    "Indeed. And... thank you for sharing that. Makes me all the more eager to visit your homeland now. Perhaps I''ll even meet this Princess Vernia you''ve spoken of."


    His eyes lit up, excitement overtaking his earlier reluctance. "They hold a festival every year," he began, his voice animated¡ªah, blast it, what was I supposed to call him now? Stephan or Yaroslav?¡ª"where all the sects compete to earn the recognition of the ancestral spirits. The victor receives their boons. This year, it¡¯ll be hosted by the Bloodtide sect. Still a few months away, of course, but if you manage to reclaim your Drakkari form by then, you could come along, maybe even take part!"


    It was truly fascinating, and clear as day that Stephan¡ªerr, Yaroslav¡ªwas utterly captivated by it. His smile stretched wider at the mere mention of the festival. For a moment, I glanced skyward, toward the moon. Odd thing, really; it wasn''t the usual stark white but full of those strange hues tonight. "One day," I murmured, still gazing up. "I¡¯d be happy to visit."


    We lapsed into silence, both lost in our own thoughts.


    ¡°Well, I suppose I should be off, then,¡± he said eventually.


    I nodded. "Barn¡­ be quick, please. If I call for you and trouble''s about, make sure Yaroslav is safe before you rush to me. I can manage, not that I''m out looking for trouble, but life''s been rather... wacky lately." I probably butchered his name with my pronunciation, but it was the thought that counted, wasn¡¯t it?


    Barn responded with three affirmative clacks.


    "Just call me Stephan," he chuckled, starting to float upwards. As the invisible cocoon of force around him gently lifted him above the treetops, he glanced back at me. His smile in that moment was something else¡ªpure, genuine, his face lit up by the silvery glow of the moon. He raised his hand and waved. "I¡¯ll be waiting. Be safe."


    I raised a claw, waving back, feeling a strange numbness creep over me. And just like that, his shape blurred as Barn whisked him away at such speed he vanished into the night.


    And I was left alone, in that silent clearing.

 Chapter 40: The Maiden Flight!

    So, what now, eh?


    Hah... Even Barn was sticking around for a few more hours, and then, well, I¡¯d be left all on my own, wouldn¡¯t I? Ha! I really needed to calm my nerves. Alone. What a notion! I¡¯d spent my entire life chasing this elusive solitude, and now, here it was, staring me square in the face. Trouble was, I didn¡¯t fancy it anymore. Not one bit. Funny, that.


    Perhaps it was Yaroslav¡¯s influence. There was ...something about talking to another beastkin¡ªsomeone who didn¡¯t gawk at me like some rare oddity the second they saw me. Sure, he was a bit of a liability, but I rather enjoyed his company. It was, after all, the first time I¡¯d met another of my own kind.


    I might even take him up on his offer to visit Vlaan''kor one day. But not now, not yet. As tempting as it sounded¡ªeven after regaining my human¡ªerr, Drakkari¡ªform, I had more pressing matters gnawing away at me. Father. What was he doing to find me? Did he even know whether I was still alive? The uncertainty gnawed at me. I longed to see him, to embrace him... and say my goodbyes properly.


    I no longer belonged there. That suffocating town, those selfish humans. That rotten society. I¡¯d never forget what they put me through. The least I could do was scarper while I still had the chance, because if Lotte was right, and the system dished out missions and rewards based on the chaos I could stir up... well, giving that place its just desserts was definitely on the cards.


    Yes, yes... that part of me had changed too, hadn¡¯t it? A simmering fury had taken root, itching to rip apart anyone who dared to trample on my pride, anyone who dared lay a finger on me. To show them. To dominate them. To...


    No, no, best not tread that path. Perhaps it¡¯s just a side effect of power, not just this knack for changing forms. Could be that. But it wasn¡¯t worth losing sleep over right now.


    I had more pressing matters to handle!


    I cast my gaze around the dense forest, my eyes still sharp as a razor. Despite my disdain for those blasted shadows, with a bit of focus, I could slice right through them. Ha! Enhanced vision, love! Those eye upgrades were worth every last morphogen.


    No monsters lurking about, unlike that panther beast from earlier. Splendid. Right then!


    "System! Shift your virtual backside over here, sharpish! Let¡¯s have a gander at what tasty upgrades are waiting for me!" I was pretty sure two of my skills were on the verge of an advancement!


    Name: Jade


    Level: 10


    Species: Hungerborn Hatchling (Draconis) (II) (+)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 15


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 32


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 40


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 27


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 0/0


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 29/29


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Claw Swipe: Level 5 (I) (+) (Advancement Available)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Stealth: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crunch: Level 5 (I) (+) (Advancement Available)


    </li>


    <li>


    Quick Dash: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes - Focusing Lenses (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws - Claw Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales - Colour Adaptation (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings - Hollow Bones (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac: +0


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 11


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 186


    </li>


    </ul>


    And lo and behold, it appeared!


    I grinned at the screen like a Cheshire cat. Morphogens aplenty, a shiny new organ ripe for an upgrade, and evolution was not far off.


    This time, though, I planned to go the whole hog and max out everything before taking the plunge¡ªmore achievements up for grabs, of course. The evolution books didn¡¯t exactly spell out how to unlock each one, but that was a riddle easily solved. I¡¯d just have a chinwag with my doppelganger about which achievements unlocked which evolutions. A little insider knowledge on how this whole malarkey worked.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Ah, but what a bungle! I''d missed the chance to ask if skills factored into the achievement system too. If that was the case, then for this evolution¡ªoh yes, a magical evolution at that¡ªI might as well be prepped to the nines. All advanced skills and all.


    A thought worth chewing over. And let''s not forget, I''d got Barn in my corner too. So, I decided to use those precious few hours with him to train my skills to the absolute max. Yes, a cunning plan! The perfect evolution!


    Right, steady on, Jade! Let''s see what¡¯s up for grabs in the skill advancements!


    I zeroed in on the little "+" next to my Claw Swipe skill, and voil¨¤, another window popped open.


    [Claw Swipe has reached Level 5.]


    [Maximum Level Attained: Advancement Available]


    Show me!


    Claw Swipe (I):


    Enhances the efficiency of executing a swift and forceful slash with claws. Optimized for close-quarters combat, delivering significant damage to adversaries. Ideal for rapid, decisive engagements.


    Advancement options (Requires 1 SP):


    1) Controlled Claw Swipe (II): Cost 1 SP. Moderates swipe force, enabling rapid cuts or heavier blows based on the situation.


    Oh? So, it would cost me some SP to advance these skills! Hmm, well, worth every penny, I suppose. I¡¯ve got enough skill points, after all.


    Hmm, so a more versatile skill? Oh, I¡¯ll have that, thank you very much! Always been a bit of a fan of... umm... flexibility, haven¡¯t I? This upgrade was absolutely spot on. Being able to fine-tune things on the fly? That''s the bee¡¯s knees for me.


    YES! I accepted without a moment''s hesitation.


    And just like that¡ªaww yiss!¡ªthe familiar rush of knowledge surged through me. So soothing. So sharp. As usual, it wasn¡¯t confined to my noggin either. I could feel it, this newfound knowledge washing over me, a tingling sensation sparking in my claws. It was as if they suddenly remembered movements they¡¯d always known, tucked away in the dusty corners of my mind. This feeling. The new mechanics of the skill embedding themselves within. I stared at my claws and slashed through the air¡ªahh, this control! I could feel the change. More precise, more instinctive. Light. Delicate. Quick.


    I shifted my stance, leaning into it. Muscles coiled and then snapped forward. Claws arced in a sweeping slash. Different. Heavy. Forceful.


    Two swipes, two entirely different outcomes. My claws themselves knew the distinction. I knew I could fine-tune it even more, but this little experiment would do for now. Plenty on the docket, after all.


    Just you wait, dungeon! Let me prepare myself properly for you!


    I pulled up the Crunch upgrade.


    [Crunch has reached Level 5.]


    [Maximum Level Attained: Advancement Available]


    Yes, yes, I know! Get on with it!


    Crunch (I): Passive enhancement that increases bite penetration and retention.


    But this time, two options were laid before me:


    Advancement options (Requires 1 SP):


    <ul>


    <li>


    Forceful Crunch(II):


    Increases bite power for greater damage to armored or larger opponents.


    </li>


    <li>


    Crushing Crunch(II):


    Applies targeted pressure with bite, maximizing structural damage to bones or weaker armor.


    </li>


    </ul>


    Two options! Splendid! But which to pick? Forceful Crunch sounded like the brute''s choice: raw power, perfect for taking on those hulking, heavily-armored types. Quite handy if I fancied a scrap with something more... gargantuan. Hmm.


    Then there was Crushing Crunch. A more refined approach. Targeted pressure? Snapping bones and shattering those annoying protective shells with surgical precision? I hadn¡¯t come across any exoskeleton-clad creatures yet, but I knew those creepers had something tough on the outside. Not raw power in this case, but finesse. An elegant solution to a rather messy problem.


    Sooooo... did I want to smash through or did I want to dissect? Well, I already knew in my heart¡ªCrushing Crunch it was!


    Yis! Hand it over! As soon as the knowledge flooded in, I felt it¡ªmy bite, now stronger than ever. A couple of test snaps, and ooh, the difference was delightful. Would¡¯ve been even better if I had something to chomp on. I glanced around at the trees¡ªhmm, nah. Didn¡¯t fancy turning into a beaver today. Plus, there was something off about these shadows... they felt all wrong, like they had a grudge against me or something. Odd.


    Missing those blasted hues again, aren''t I? I glanced up at the moon¡ªbah, still the only thing glowing with those strange colors. What¡¯s up with that? A dungeon on the moon, perhaps? Who knows. Another one for Jade''s never-ending list of questions for Lotte. Honestly, they piled up quicker than I could keep track. Pretty sure I¡¯d forget half of them by the time I met her again, but that''s future-me¡¯s problem.


    Right then, focus, Jade! Next on the list¡ªprepare for the new evolution! I pulled up the screen again, scrolling down to the resource section. Time to see what shiny new skills were up for grabs!


    [Skill Points may be allocated to acquire new skills or enhance existing ones.]


    [Morphogens may be expended to mutate physical attributes.]


    Skills available for acquisition:


    Crush Claw: Requires 1 SP. Augments claw precision and impact force.


    Flight: Requires 1 SP. Optimizes wing muscle strength and coordination. Improves control during takeoff, mid-air maneuvers, and landing.


    Deep Breathing: Requires 1 SP. Enhances lung capacity and breath control. Increases Stamina regeneration.


    Air Sense: Requires 1 SP. Increases sensitivity to wind pressure and direction.


    Climb: Requires 1 SP. Enhances claw grip strength and limb coordination.


    Select a mutation:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes - Focusing Lenses (II): +1


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws - Claw Flexibility (II): +1


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales - Colour Adaptation (II): +1


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings - Improved Membranes (II): +1


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +1


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir (II): +1


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac: +1


    </li>


    </ul>


    Hoh, I finally snagged that flight skill! Woohoo! Now we were talking! But let¡¯s see, what else did we have here? Four shiny new skills all queued up¡ªlovely. Obviously, flight was the star today, but wait a tick... Why hadn¡¯t I tried flying before this? Surely, I could¡¯ve at least attempted it. I mean, birds did it all the time, didn¡¯t they? No skill required for a test flap, right? Just one little lift-off to feel the difference. It couldn¡¯t hurt.


    The thought simmered in my mind, and yep, it was decided. A quick test flight, that¡¯s all. How hard could it be? Birds had tiny brains, after all, and they managed just fine!


    I was already in the perfect spot¡ªa clearing beneath the open night sky. Oh moon, be my witness, as this dragon took to the skies for the first time! I spread my wings wide, the wind giving them a gentle rustle. First flap. Oof, the tendons pulled tight, but they felt strong, powerful even. Surely these were made for this! Deep breath¡ªright, flap again. Second one. Third one...


    Flap, flap, flap... Huh? Nothing much was happening. A couple of leaves stirred, some dust puffed up around me. Right, right, I see¡ªclearly not flapping hard enough. Obviously!


    So I flapped again, with all the gusto I could muster. WHOOOSH! My wings caught the air, and for a split second, I felt it¡ªa bit of lift! Ha! THIS WAS IT! More! HARDER! AAAAAAA! I WAS AIRBORNE!


    ...And then I promptly tipped forward like a sack of potatoes, crashing nose-first into the dirt. Brilliant.


    Right, lesson learned¡ªmore force, Jade! I stood up, dusted off my serpentine snout, and stretched out my wings again. ¡°Round two, here we go!¡± I muttered to myself, crouching low. I was going to give it a proper go this time¡ªstart with a jump for a bit of momentum. Ready... FLAP FLAP FLAP!


    I managed to get a few feet off the ground! WOOHOO! Wait... What¡¯s happening now? LEFT WING?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!! My left wing started acting a bit wonky, and I veered sideways like a tipsy pigeon. No amount of flailing could save me as I spiraled down in a glorious display of chaos... straight into a tree trunk.


    As if the universe wasn¡¯t satisfied with just that, the system decided to chime in right then:


    [Scale Harden has reached level 3]


    Graceful, Jade. Just... so graceful.


    I groaned, lying in a heap at the base of the tree, staring up at the sky. So, yeah, maybe flight wasn¡¯t as easy as it looked. This was going to take a lot more practice. Or, hehe, I could just spend those sweet, sweet SPs and get it instantly. The absurdity of it just hit me again¡ªjust using skill points to download flight into my brain. Seriously bizarre when one thought about it... so I didn¡¯t!


    Now gimme all those skills!

 Chapter 41: Say Yes to Torture

    Haha! There I was, hovering with my wings beating steadily, holding me aloft. This time, I¡¯d got it right. Truly!


    The sensation was utterly mad. Downright peculiar, even. Moments ago, I hadn¡¯t the foggiest clue how to pull this off. But now? It felt as if I¡¯d been born for flight. My wings moved with a precision that felt instinctive, drawing in the air with each rhythmic beat. So smooth. The muscles in my back, shoulders, and wings worked in perfect harmony. Glorious.


    Each movement was timed just so, creating just enough lift to keep me steady.


    Before, it was all a farce¡ªflapping about like a mad thing, every motion clumsy and strained. Looking back, I wanted to give my former self a good shake. My muscles had been pulling in every which way, a cacophony rather than a symphony. Despite having the strength and wingspan to fly, I simply hadn¡¯t cracked the code of coordination.


    But now? Now, it was second nature. The moment I¡¯d learned the skill, it wasn¡¯t just knowledge; it was muscle memory that slotted into place. I watched my wings adjust to the wind with ease, the tension in my tendons feeling just right. And I could sense every faint shift in pressure as I hovered¡ªperhaps, a perk of that Air Sense skill.


    My body moved efficiently, each muscle playing its part. It was so wonderfully odd, this sensation¡ªdelightfully different. The truth was plain: my earlier failures weren¡¯t about a lack of strength; they were about a lack of understanding how to wield it.


    Not just flapping harder, but control!


    And just like that, I was airborne! I kept to a small radius, staying near the clearing and close to the ground. But for a moment, I dared to close my eyes. The cool night air rushed over my scales, lifting me higher. That peculiar lightness in my chest¡ªa knot finally unwound.


    I knew this feeling well.


    Freedom. Pure, unbridled freedom.


    My wings sliced through the air, and I felt it¡ªevery subtle shift in temperature. Every swirl of the wind that brushed against me. My heart thumped, yet not from exertion. No, it was the sheer thrill surging through me. I was gliding. Flying!


    It wasn¡¯t just about moving; it was about the sensation. Seeing the world from above, with the ground slipping away and the sky wrapping around me in its vastness. A feeling only a creature with wings could ever truly grasp.


    This was my place¡ªup in the air, gliding beneath the stars.


    AHAHAHAHA!


    A slight tilt of my wings, and I eased into a gentle descent toward the clearing below. No need for frantic flapping, just a subtle change in angle, letting gravity do the work. Spot on. Now, a little lean to the left, dipping the left wing ever so slightly to catch the wind just right. I banked smoothly to the side, letting the air currents lead me. Then, with a sharp beat of my wings, I soared upwards again, climbing with grace.


    Once more, I dropped¡ªdeliberately this time. Adjusting my posture, I descended swiftly, yet still maintained control, pulling up just in time to skim over the treetops.


    AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! I was flying! Truly, gloriously flying! I wished Lotte could see this. Maybe I¡¯d show her when I returned to the dreamlands.


    But before I touched down, I soared higher, pushing myself further into the sky. For a brief moment, I hovered there, suspended in the air, simply watching the world beneath me. From up here, I could see everything. The forest spread out below, an endless sea of green, marred by those odd shadows and speckled with patches of silver moonlight. But that wasn¡¯t what I was after. In the distance, a fortress loomed, and my eyes narrowed.


    It was that same fortress teeming with elves, and the proper entrance to the dungeon. Right on cue, the system chimed the moment my eyes locked onto it.


    Mission Alert! Exterminate! Spare not a single soul!


    Objective: Eradicate every elf within the fortress. Wipe these thieves from existence!


    Task: Reduce the elven fortress to smouldering ruins.


    Reward: Permanent +10 to all stats, +1 rare organ, +1 technique recipe, +1 additional Tier III skill per 100 elves vanquished. The more excruciating their demise, the higher the chance of additional rewards.


    Penalty: None.


    Accept: Y/N?


    I simply stared at the screen, a smile creeping onto my face as I declined the quest. Relieved that I had the option this time. Unlike before, when I was shackled to it¡ªeat or perish.


    Perhaps a day would come when there''d be consequences for refusal or outright defiance, but I hoped that wouldn''t be the case. With that thought, I let my wings relax and glided down gracefully, landing back in the clearing.


    Lotte''s words rang in my ears. The system held a particular disdain for those three races. And judging by the second part of the rewards section, that much was now clear. The system wanted me to utterly torment them, dangling extra rewards as bait. I doubted I was the first monster to receive these ghastly quests. Could this be the real reason monsters harbored such animosity towards them? Kill and be rewarded.


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    And, by the glorious beard of Thalador, the rewards themselves were ludicrous. A Tier III skill? From what I understood, my skills currently stood at Tier II after my last advancement. One more upgrade, and they''d reach Tier III. And not just that¡ªa ''rare organ,'' whatever that entailed¡ªand a +10 boost to every stat for each 100 elves slain.


    But what on earth was a ''technique recipe''? I posed the question to the system, and another window materialised.


    [Techniques: Unlocked upon meeting specific skill level and mutation conditions. Techniques result in the fusion of skills into a singular, enhanced skill.]


    Ah, so a recipe for this sort of thing would reveal the conditions needed to unlock these techniques. Blimey. I hadn¡¯t realised just how powerful they could be, but if they combined several of my skills, they¡¯d likely be bloody formidable.


    Would Lotte know about any of these recipes? Not entirely certain, but it couldn''t hurt to ask her, could it? I dismissed the screen for now. Obviously, I wasn¡¯t about to engage in... mass slaughter. Yet, the system certainly knew how to tempt, didn¡¯t it?


    I shook my head and pulled up my stat screen instead.


    Name: Jade


    Level: 10


    Species: Hungerborn Hatchling (Draconis) (II) (+)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 15


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 32


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 40


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 27


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 0/0


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 19/29


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Controlled Claw Swipe: Level 1 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Stealth: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crushing Crunch: Level 1 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Quick Dash: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flight: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Deep Breathing: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Air Sense: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Climb: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crush Claw: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes - Focusing Lenses (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws - Claw Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales - Colour Adaptation (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings - Hollow Bones (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac: +0


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 4


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 186


    </li>


    </ul>


    Hmm, my stamina had dropped from all that flying; it was at a full 29 not too long ago. I¡¯d been zipping around for, what, ten minutes? Yes, probably about that. So, the consumption rate was around 1 SP per minute of flight. Quite generous, actually.


    And this gave me the chance to use the Deep Breathing skill. Only problem? I couldn¡¯t use it while moving. It was more of a meditation technique¡ªsimilar to what mages use to recharge their mana, only instead of mana, by calming myself and breathing deeply, I¡¯d be regenerating my stamina. Still had some time before Barn showed up. So, I sprawled out on the floor and activated the skill.


    I closed my eyes, drew in a long, deep breath. The air filled my lungs and for a moment I held it there. Slowly, I let it out. It was as if the tension in my body left with it.


    Breathing became more rhythmic. Steady even. Each inhale and exhale in perfect sync with the rise and fall of my chest. My senses dulled, the world around me fading into the background. My entire focus was inwards.


    But impatient as ever, I still kept my stat window open while I rested, counting each second as it passed. A full minute went by, and my Stamina Points ticked up by one. Hmm? Not sure how fast my regeneration was before, but it certainly wasn¡¯t this quick. I dismissed the skill and got up. That should do the trick.


    My eyes drifted to the bottom of the screen, to something I¡¯d been avoiding: Mutations. I know I said I was getting used to the pain, but let¡¯s be honest, it still affected me¡ªso much so that I¡¯d been subconsciously avoiding it. But for that perfect evolution, it had to be done, didn¡¯t it? And I had enough morphogens anyway.


    I glanced at the hole Barn had made¡ªthe second, unofficial entrance to the dungeon now. If I were to undergo a mutation, this clearing sure wasn¡¯t the place for it. I''d be vulnerable during those agonising moments. I needed to retreat to a more secure location, back into the dungeon. But first, this hole needed sealing.


    I surveyed the surroundings with my upgraded and keen eyes. A few well-placed Claw Swipes at the nearest trees, and soon I had amassed a respectable pile of branches. I arranged them around, layering them over the hole until not a single gap remained. A sprinkling of leaves over the top, and there we go¡ªperfect camouflage. The green leaves melded seamlessly with the surrounding bushes and grass. I left a small opening on the side, pressed my wings tight against my body, and slithered through the gap like a snake.


    My climbing skills came in handy as I gracefully descended, knowing exactly where to sink my claws, where to find my footing, and how much force to apply. In no time, I was back to where it all began, in that sticky tunnel of sap. Taking a deep breath, I opened up the resource section.


    Would you like to use 6 Morphogens to upgrade your eyes?


    Hmm, looks like the cost of upgrading these organs has gone up now they''re on their second advancement. Six Morphogens each, with just one for the macro-trophic sac since it hasn''t been advanced yet. Fair enough, I suppose.


    Right then, time for some quick arithmetic. If the advancement is still at +5, it''ll take about 40 Morphogens to fully advance each organ. I had 186 Morphogens on hand, so I could fully upgrade four organs. With the remaining 16, I could push the macro-trophic sac to advancement too, leaving me with a solitary Morphogen. Of course, there''s the off chance that the advancement could go up to +10 like my level, but that would be absurd¡ª105 Morphogens for just one organ? No, it''s got to be +5. Trusting my instincts on this one.


    Now, the real question: which organs deserved the full advancement to unlock additional evolution options?


    Would you like to use 25 Morphogens to upgrade your eyes, claws, scales, fire gland, and macro-trophic sac?


    My legs and wings were fine as they were for now, and if I get mana in this evolution¡ªoh, Thalador, I do hope so¡ªthen upgrading the fire gland would definitely be worth it.


    Ah, yis! The moment has come!


    ...


    Come on!


    ...


    Just one mental command, Jade!


    ...


    IT''LL BE OVER BEFORE YOU KNOW IT!


    ...


    I dug my claws into the smooth bark, closed my eyes, and braced myself.


    YES!


    And so, the torturous process began anew.

 Chapter 42: Mutations

    Agony. Worse than before.


    A raw, searing wave tore through me. Every nerve was aflame. Eyes¡ªburned, warped. Like needles threaded behind them, twisting. Swollen, bulging, splitting. Reforming. Every blink brought another knife.


    Bones snapped. Claws dug from within, breaking free. Segments shifted. Ground. Grew. Flesh stretched over scales. New layers. Rough. Rigid. Tearing, stitching. Tearing again. Each rip was sharp, each regrowth unbearable. Skin seared, blistered, stretched tight over jagged edges.


    Inside¡ªa furnace. Burning. A gland swelled in my throat. Chest tightened, boiled. Fire. Every breath came as a searing gasp, molten heat coursing through my veins. Muscles twisted, shredded, rebuilt.


    I writhed. But I held.


    Just a little longer. It had to end.


    But the pain? It never left.


    Inside¡ªtwisting. Clawing. Remaking. Every cell torn apart, every sinew stretched to breaking.


    Splitting, fusing. A beast in my belly. Devouring. Reforming.


    I choked on the fire, gasped. Flesh bubbled. Seared.


    No more. Couldn''t.


    But still, I held.


    A sudden scurrying on my wrist. Not agony, but something familiar. Oh, blast it all, Barn was back! Barn¡ªAHH, WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THINGS HOLY WAS HAPPENING?! It felt like someone had jammed a knife right up my rear! AHHH, WHAT WAS EVEN MUTATING DOWN THERE?!


    The indignity! And in front of Barn, no less! My one witness to this horrific transformation. How thoroughly undignified. Thankfully, the pain subsided quickly enough. I slumped over in that sticky tunnel of sap. Only the second mutation¡ªjust three more to endure. Thalador save me, I couldn¡¯t bear the thought of going through it again. NO, NO, NO!


    But before the next round of torture, I needed to give Barn his orders.


    ¡°BARN! FETCH THE MOST WRETCHED BEASTIE YOU CAN FIND!¡±


    Barn, gleeful little serpent, slithered over my claws with a sinister sound of bone-knitting affirmation, then floated away with alarming cheerfulness. I nodded, satisfied. So helpful. He¡¯d be leaving soon, so I sent him off to find something strong enough for my practice. I needed to level up my skills against a higher-tier monster. After all, the greater the power gap, the faster I¡¯d level.


    This was the last thing I needed before commencing my evolution.


    Would you like to use 43 Morphogens to upgrade your eyes, claws, scales, fire gland, and macro-trophic sac?


    Third mutation down. Two to go. Then¡ªadvancement. I¡¯d grow stronger. More powerful. Yes. Motivation surged, and I braced myself.


    And then¡ªSod it, I was ready!


    BRING IT ON!


    ***


    Name: Jade


    Level: 10


    Species: Hungerborn Hatchling (Draconis) (II) (+)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 15


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 32


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 40


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 27


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 0/0


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 24/29


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Controlled Claw Swipe: Level 1 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Stealth: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crushing Crunch: Level 1 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Quick Dash: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flight: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Deep Breathing: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Air Sense: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Climb: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crush Claw: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes - Focusing Lenses (II): +5 (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws - Claw Flexibility (II): +5 (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales - Colour Adaptation (II): +5 (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings - Hollow Bones (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir (II): +5 (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac: +5 (+)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 4


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 1


    </li>


    </ul>


    Ha! I fixed my gaze on the stat screen. Made it. FINALLY! Yet, beneath the surface, the triumph felt oddly lacklustre. More relief than victory, but even that felt¡­ hollow. I slumped against the tunnel wall, phantom pains gnawing at me like a stray cat with a grudge.


    Heh, not the first time for this sort of thing, now, is it?


    My body completed its transformation, but my mind? Still felt raw. I could sense it¡ªas though I''d been completely rewired. These phantom sensations¡­ were they merely echoes of the physical pain I endured? I doubted it. Perhaps they were my brain''s way of coping with the shock. A defence mechanism, perhaps. Pain is the body''s way of keeping itself in check, after all. When your nerves scream, it''s because they''re trying to tell you something: you''re breaking.


    And now? Ha! My nerves still believed I was breaking. Foolish things.


    Logically, I knew the pain wasn¡¯t real anymore. But my body wasn''t ready to let it go just yet. My mind was a chaotic mess of terms, strange phrases reverberating within. Once again, those whispers from my dreamscape. Neurological fallout from the rapid mutation? Unnatural? My brain, lagging behind, still trying to reconcile this new reality with the old neural pathways? Synaptic misfire?


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    Not the first time this happened. So, I simply ignored it. Too much nonsense to untangle, anyway.


    I turned my attention back to the screen. Time for those juicy advancements. Barn would be a while yet, off gathering a lovely bounty of skill upgrades. In the meantime, I could advance my organs.


    I mean, despite my mutations feeling like an eternity of torment, it was what¡ªten minutes? Maybe a little longer, for all five upgrades? Funny how time seemed to stretch when you were in pain.


    I shook my head. Ahh, yiss¡ªbring on the advancement options, system!


    Focusing on the resource options, they began to appear one by one.


    First up: the eyes.


    [Eyes(II) +5: Focusing Lenses Advancement Options]


    ? Thermal Vision: Eyes detect heat signatures, enabling visualization of living entities and recently disturbed objects through thin walls or dense vegetation.


    ? Long-Range Focus: Vision enhanced for long-distance precision targeting without compromising short-range clarity. Effective for miles.


    ? Night Mastery: Optimal adaptation to low-light environments. Night vision perfected with no blindness during light-to-dark transitions.


    ? Peripheral Optimization: Field of view expanded significantly. Motion and threats detected from wider angles without head movement.


    I took a deep breath as I sifted through the options. Bloody hell, these were in a league of their own compared to what I¡¯d seen earlier. Right then, time to go through them and figure out which was the most efficient choice.


    First up, Thermal Vision. The ability to detect heat signatures? The term was new, but once again, echoes from my dreamscape filled in the gaps, and I understood. That would do. Quite the nifty upgrade, really. Being able to spot living creatures, or even trace the warmth left on recently disturbed objects¡ªthrough walls, no less! If I were hunting or hiding in areas full of cover, like dense forests or these cramped tunnels around me, it¡¯d be perfect. Locked in for now.


    Next was Long-Range Focus. The ability to zero in on distant targets without losing close-range clarity? Good grief, the precision! To spot threats or objectives long before they became an issue¡ªthat was a good upgrade.


    Then came Night Mastery, and oh boy. I now realised my vision wasn¡¯t perfect. After a venture aboveground, it became clear that the hues brightening my sight were only present in the dungeon. Up there, the shadows were downright eerie. If my eyes could pierce through those dark corners? Yes, please. No more stumbling around in creepy shadows, squinting and hoping for the best. Also, no blinding transition between dark and light¡ªcertainly a bonus.


    Yet, considering I¡¯d spend most of my time in the dungeon where the hues already illuminated everything, it wasn¡¯t really necessary. I moved on.


    Peripheral Optimisation. Now this one expanded my field of vision, allowing me to spot threats from all sides without turning my head. A more perception-focused choice, it would synergise well with all my flexibility upgrades, like dodging attacks or spotting sneaky enemies. Very useful in close combat too. I wouldn¡¯t have eyes in the back of my head, but it¡¯d come close.


    Arghhh!!! I wanted them all! Every single one of them sounded brilliant. Why, system? WHY? Just let me have the lot! I knew I was being a greedy dragon, but these options were just too good to pass up!


    I cocked my head to the side. "Right, then, Peripheral Optimization it is!" It was neck and neck with Thermal Vision, and, blimey, did I want both. But this one had the edge, efficiency-wise. I mean, in a proper scrap, awareness is everything, isn''t it? Spotting threats from all sides without having to swivel my noggin? YES, PLEASE! I¡¯d be quicker, sharper, and a nightmare to sneak up on. Not as snazzy as Thermal Vision, of course, but in terms of pay-off, this one took the biscuit.


    GAAH! I wanted both so badly. But I shut my eyes and made my peace with it, bracing for the next wave of agony.


    And agony it was¡ªtwo minutes of cursing every deity under the sun, along with myself. But once it passed, I pulled up the next upgrade with a satisfied sigh.


    Ah, Claws!


    [Claws(II) +5: Claw Flexibility Advancement Options]


    ? Reinforced Talons: Claws reinforced for penetration through materials such as metal or stone, increasing lethality and defensive-breaking capabilities.


    ? Razor-Edge Claws: Claws sharpened for surgical precision, optimized for slicing through armor and delicate structures.


    ? Vibration Sense: Claws now sensitive to ground and air vibrations, enabling detection of movements and hidden entities via tremors and subtle shifts.


    Ah, only three choices this time.


    Reinforced Talons. Straightforward enough. Stronger claws capable of ripping through metal and stone? Serious brute strength, that. They could tear through defences. A solid upgrade, no doubt.


    Razor-Edge Claws. Sharper claws. Perfect for slicing through armour or finer structures. All about precision rather than brute force. Ideal for picking apart defences rather than smashing through them. Finesse can be just as deadly, if not more so. And the thought of making these elegant claws of mine even sharper? Oh yes, absolutely.


    Hmm, and the last option¡­


    Vibration Sense. Heightened sensitivity in the claws. Designed to detect vibrations in the earth or air. It could pick up on hidden enemies or subtle tremors. Advanced warning of danger. Invaluable for ambushes or dealing with stealthy foes. Another excellent option, really.


    Crikey, these decisions weren¡¯t getting any easier. Not a single dud in the lot. Each would come in handy, depending on the situation.


    But which to go for? Hehe, well, why not go with the one that set the heart a-flutter?


    Razor-Edge Claws it was! Couldn''t resist the thought of sharper, deadlier claws, cutting through anything daft enough to get in my way.


    Upgrade confirmed! And, naturally, I welcomed the pain.


    ***


    [Scales(II) +5: Colour Adaptation Advancement Options]


    ? Active Camouflage: Scales adapt dynamically to environmental colors in real time, reducing visual detectability while in motion.


    ? Heat Dissipation: Scales release excess heat, masking thermal signatures and rendering undetectable by heat-sensing technologies or vision.


    ? Environment Texture Matching: Scales mimic both color and texture of surroundings, enabling near-invisibility against surfaces such as rocks, trees, and urban environments.


    ? Shock-Absorbent Scales: Scales optimized for impact absorption, dispersing blunt force to increase physical resilience in combat.


    I was moving through them at lightning speed. Barn would be here soon, and I wanted to be finished before he arrived.


    Right, let¡¯s see what the Scales upgrade had in store for me.


    Active Camouflage: the scales shifting colour more fluidly, allowing me to blend into any environment while on the move. A perfect improvement on the original. Brilliant for stealth and ambushes, so it instantly caught my eye.


    Heat Dissipation: releasing excess heat to hide my thermal signature. Sounded a bit ¡­sci-fi? Another dream word, but it made sense. It also reminded me that I could upgrade my eyes with thermal vision, so this option would essentially grant me immunity to it. Not all predators in this dungeon relied on sight, after all. Take the creepers, for example¡ªthey didn¡¯t have eyes, so they must''ve used another sense. Thermal vision, perhaps? Though I remembered it hadn¡¯t spotted me or Stephan when it was gorging on those spiders, and we were behind nothing more than a thin wall. Maybe not. Still, I knew I wasn''t the only monster that would be offered such an upgrade.


    Picking this meant saying ta-ta to thermal vision worries. Less glamorous, but another step closer to becoming the sneakiest dragon in the dungeon. Locked that in for now.


    Environment Texture Matching was another enhancement to my base mutation. Not just mimicking colours but textures too. Hmm, what had texture? Rocks, trees¡ªbasically everything? Next-level camouflage, though it seemed a bit overkill given my stealth abilities.


    Shock-Absorbent Scales, now that was more defence-focused... something I really lacked. They¡¯d cushion impacts from physical attacks and make me more resistant to blunt force. It wasn¡¯t about hiding, but standing my ground. This was a dungeon, after all; not everything would go to plan. If something landed a heavy blow, I¡¯d be the one taking it. I had to remember, every single monster I¡¯d face would be like me¡ªwith their own upgrades and all sorts of tricks.


    Caution won the day. One-in-ten chance my stealth would fail, so I reckoned it was better to be armed to the teeth with a bit of extra defence.


    As much as I fancied the others, Shock-Absorbent Scales it was.


    Now then, onto the final bit¡ªthe Fire Gland...


    [Fire Gland(II) +5: Mana Reservoir Advancement Options]


    ? Mana Conservation: Enhances mana retention, slowing depletion rates and extending fire mana reserves for prolonged use.


    ? Overcharge Mode: Fire gland temporarily stores excess mana, enabling high-intensity bursts of flame for short, powerful attacks.


    ? Overheat Mode: Allows temporary storage of additional mana for intense heat release, increasing attack potency and flame duration.


    ? Rapid Ignition: Fire gland optimized for instant ignition, reducing delay in flame generation for rapid combat responses.


    ? Mana Infusion: Fire gland absorbs external mana, enhancing internal reserves for larger and more sustained fire attacks or augmenting abilities.


    Oh blimey, I had five whole options this time around! And, once again, I hadn¡¯t the foggiest clue what my fire gland would actually do, but I was beginning to piece it together. Simple, right? I¡¯d be belching flames from, well, somewhere. Oh for the love of Thalador, please let it be from my mouth and not, you know, elsewhere!


    I skimmed through the options swiftly because, to be frank, I was flying blind here. Not a sausage of an idea how things would shake out once I unlocked my evolution and tapped into mana. And, of course, every single option sounded splendid.


    First one basically implied my mana would naturally deplete from the fire gland at a fixed rate. Lovely. There goes my hope of an endless mana fountain apart from the core I¡¯d be forming. Crikey. I almost wanted to pick this one, if only I had a clue how fast that dratted dissipation would be.


    Now that I was beginning to understand, it seemed like the fire gland wasn¡¯t some cosy little storage unit like I¡¯d imagined. No, no, it was more of a... machine! Charging my mana with fire energy as it swirled through, ready to be released.


    Aha! It all finally clicked! I¡¯d been dead wrong about it before! I whizzed through the options again, and crikey, it all made too much sense now.


    The choices boiled down to this: more fire, bigger fire, hotter fire, quicker fire, or longer-lasting fire. Haha, seems I¡¯ve hit the nail on the head with that lot. Right, which one to pick then? I reckoned I''d settle for Mana Conservation this time.


    Nodding to myself, I thought, well, I might be barking up the wrong tree, but it couldn¡¯t be too far off the mark, right? With that, I confirmed my choice and closed my eyes. Mutation initiated once more.


    But as my innards were getting rearranged like I¡¯d swallowed a hot poker, I found myself writhing in the tunnel, the disgrace of it all. Then, out of nowhere, a slow, icy dread crept over me, like a chill that briefly dulled the fiery torment.


    Soon enough, I felt the familiar skitter on my claws.


    Barn was here.


    And so was my skill-levelling factory.

 Chapter 43: The Grand Dungeon Beast

    The dungeon was just as it always had been¡ªan endless tunnel unfurling before me, branching off into countless more as one delved deeper. A maze, truly. Perhaps Stephan had been right to dub it a Labyrinth. After all, wasn¡¯t that the very heart of a dungeon? Even as one descended further, the ground could open up into all sorts of peculiar biomes¡ªswamps, forests, even hidden glades¡ªall tucked away underground. How it all worked, and why, remained a mystery. I really should have taken more interest in dungeon lore.


    But that was a matter for another time, as a more pressing concern stood directly in my path. It was yet another of Barn¡¯s bone trees. Twisted, gnarled branches of ivory gleamed in the hues. This time, however, instead of thirty rat-beasts tangled in its grasp, there was only one.


    It hung there¡ªsuspended. Jet black.


    Long, sinewy limbs. Too long. Joints bent at impossible angles.


    Slick. Shining. Like oiled leather stretched tight over bone.


    A skull. No, a head. Smooth. Elongated. No eyes. Just sleek, unbroken blackness.


    Teeth. Too many of them. Serrated, jagged, interlocking. A maw gaping wide, dripping¡ªacid? Saliva? Both.


    Body taut. Coiled. Muscles rippled beneath the surface.


    Tail. Barbed, segmented. Twitching. Waiting. The tip slick with poison, or so I assumed, the way it glistened in the hues.


    A nightmare. Caught in ivory.


    It reminded me of those lesser creepers, but this was on an entirely different scale. Every inch of it was impaled, held fast by Barn¡¯s bone tree, cocooned so thoroughly that escape seemed impossible. Yet, even so, its presence was suffocating. My skin crawled merely at the sight of it. Though eyeless, I could feel its focus on me. The head, the only part with any semblance of freedom, was turned in my direction, its maw poised to open at any moment. And it simply¡­ observed.


    Where a mindless beast would thrash and recoil, this creature exuded a disquieting awareness. Monsters gained intelligence as they evolved, that much I knew, but to what extent? This one¡ªit was cunning, perhaps even more so than I.


    A small part of me recoiled inwardly. Here was a creature that had clawed its way to this strength by playing the dungeon''s game, while I¡­ I was cheating, wasn¡¯t I?


    I squeezed my eyes shut and drew in a steadying breath. No, it would be fine. Once I unlocked my magical evolution, all of this would be worth it. Just one last push. GET A BLOODY GRIP, JADE!


    Shaking off the doubt, I got to work. First order of business: Stealth. I needed it at its peak.


    I closed my eyes and initiated it.


    Every muscle tensed, then loosened. Breath¡ªshallow. No noise, no movement.


    Heart slowed.


    Breath controlled.


    Scales shifted. Flattened, soft against my form, colors dimming, no longer catching the hues as bright. The ridges smoothed out, and the contours blended into the shadows. I could feel my body shrinking, pulling inward. Limbs coiled close. Muscles wound tight, ready to spring. My wings tucked in. Silent.


    Wasn¡¯t that what stealth was? Becoming less. Less than solid. Less than seen. And right now, I was just that.


    [Stealth has reached level 4]


    [Stealth has reached level 5]


    ...


    BLOODY HELL, THAT WAS QUICK!


    My stealthy fa?ade nearly shattered as I lost focus. I had expected to stay like that for a while, creeping about while my stealth skill gradually leveled up. But the very moment I slipped into the shadows¡ªit happened?! Just like that? Cranked up to the max?


    WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT''S UNHOLY HAD BARN UNLEASHED ON ME?!


    Slowly, ever so cautiously, I lifted my gaze to that eyeless head, now trained squarely on me. Once again, it wasn¡¯t as feral as one would expect from a creature bound like this. Yet, I felt¡­ something else. Amusement? Nah. Hostility? Perhaps it was just my nerves talking, but honestly, what monster wouldn¡¯t be miffed at the sight of a mere ant like me scuttling about?


    Oh, sweet Thalador, I nearly wet myself right there and then.


    But I gave my head a quick shake. No time to dawdle¡ªI needed to wrap up all this skill tomfoolery.


    I edged closer to the creature, watching as the bone branches cocooning it shifted, revealing just a sliver of its form. Barn was still perched atop the creature¡¯s head, watching me with that adorable wide-eyed, gleeful expression.


    Ah, his presence brought a bit of comfort, but only just. Really, barely at all.


    Nevertheless, I steeled myself and approached the exposed bit of the beast. The smooth, leathery skin of its hind leg peeked out from the tangled branches. Despite still being ensnared, a small patch was left open for me, and I could see the holes in its body where Barn¡¯s skeletal tree had pried it apart. But even as I watched, the wounds sealed up right before my eyes.


    Well then, let¡¯s get down to business! Without further ado, I swung my rear around.


    Erm¡­


    TAIL WHIP!


    SMACK!


    [Tail Whip has reached level 2]


    SMACK!


    [Tail Whip has reached level 3]


    SMACK!


    [Tail Whip has reached level 4]


    SMACK!


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    [Tail Whip has reached level 5]


    It was like whacking a bloody anvil. Didn¡¯t so much as leave a scratch on that leathery hide. Not even sure if my feeble attempt managed to tickle the blighter.


    But that was quite enough for me. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of whatever unholy creature this was. Welp, not that it was needed¡ªwhatever it was, it was well and truly out of my league. Needed to keep my wits about me!


    Apologies, oh random terrifying dungeon beast, but I¡¯m in a bit of a pickle here. And, terribly sorry to the inner dragon who''s fuming at her own shortcut decisions, but I was determined to make the most of the precious few hours left with Barn.


    Next on the menu: Roar!


    Funny how I¡¯d never really bothered with some of these skills. Roar, for instance, wasn¡¯t exactly the best fit for my sneaky-dragon style. But in a pinch, when cornered by nasties, it might just prove useful.


    It came naturally, like all my skills do. I just... knew.


    I inhaled. Deep. Felt my lungs swell, stretching like bellows. Throat tensed, muscles coiling, ready to unleash.


    And then I let it rip.


    A sound. No, not just sound¡ªa force. It tore from my very core, a raw, guttural blast that rumbled up through my chest and roared out of my throat. My whole body shook with the intensity of it.


    Yet, the beast before me remained utterly unbothered. Just¡­ watching.


    But never mind that¡ªthe upgrades were rolling in.


    [Roar has reached level 2]


    I kept at it.


    [Roar has reached level 3]


    Didn¡¯t take long at all.


    [Roar has reached level 4]


    Faster than a thought could flit through my mind.


    [Roar has reached level 5]


    And just like that, it was ready for its next advancement.


    I scanned the stat screen, flicking through each newly upgraded skill. Upgrades used to crawl, creeping in so slowly I barely noticed them. But now, with each one hitting instantly, the change was obvious. The jump between level 1 and level 5? Huge. Tangible.


    I rolled my shoulders, feeling the difference in my body. Everything tighter, sharper. More controlled. My vocal cords? They¡¯d adapted. And before I knew it, I wanted to try them. Just once. A single time.


    Scrunching them, I prepared for another roar. This time¡ªso easy. Smooth. The muscle memory was there now, ingrained. Where before I had to strain, now it was like a simple flex. The cords responded instantly, no tightness, no resistance. The vibrations deeper, fuller.


    The roar surged out¡ªstronger, clearer. Less forced. Like my body understood exactly what it needed to do and simply did it. The gap between level 1 and now? Vast. But there wasn¡¯t time to think on it.


    Next up: Scale Harden. This one was a bit fiddly, wasn¡¯t it? I was well aware that if this creature so much as sneezed on me, I''d be brown bread. No sense in Barn untangling the mess afterward. Hmm, I just needed to trigger that built-in reflex for my scales to toughen up.


    A lightbulb flicked on above my head. Why not just bloody charge at the thing? I mean, it''s not like I''d make a dent, but smashing into it would be like ramming a brick wall. I instantly used Quick Dash to put some distance between us.


    [Quick Dash has reached level 3.]


    Bloody hell! Anyway, focus.


    My eyes zeroed in on the spot where I¡¯d been whacking my tail earlier. Right then, three, two, one¡ªCHARGE!


    I let the momentum gather, hurtling into the beast¡¯s impervious hide. Just as predicted, the scales hardened in defense, absorbing the blow. And¡­


    [Scale Harden has reached level 4.]


    One more charge should do it.


    [Scale Harden has reached level 5.]


    I kept at it, same process, rinse and repeat. Even brought out my fancy moves. Controlled Claw swipe? Not a scratch. Crushing Crunch? Not even close. Crushing Claw? Well, seemed like ¡®crushing¡¯ was more of a hopeful description. The only thing getting battered was my skill levels, soaring like mad.


    Flight? Yep, swooped around its bound form. Quick Dash? Zipping here, there, and everywhere. Deep Breathing? Even just inhaling in its presence gave me a boost with every breath. Air Sense to feel the currents around it. Climb skill to scale its hulking frame.


    Didn¡¯t matter what I threw at it¡ªevery skill used, every single time, they leveled up.


    [Climb has reached level 4.]


    And not just steadily, oh no.


    [Climb has reached level 5.]


    Blimey, they were leveling up like a house on fire!


    ***


    Name: Jade


    Level: 10


    Species: Hungerborn Hatchling (Draconis) (II) (+)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 15


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 32


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 40


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 27


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 0/0


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 14/29


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Controlled Claw Swipe: Level 10 (II) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Stealth: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crushing Crunch: Level 10 (II) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Quick Dash: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flight: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Deep Breathing: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Air Sense: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Climb: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crush Claw: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes - Focusing Lenses, Peripheral Optimization (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws - Claw Flexibility, Razor-Edge Claws (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales - Colour Adaptation, Shock-Absorbent Scales (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings - Hollow Bones (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir, Mana Conservation (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac: +5 (+)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 4


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 1


    </li>


    </ul>


    I had an option. An option to spend these four precious skill points, hastily advancing any four of my skills out of a total of ten. But hold on a tick¡ªif the next evolution unlocked more skills, and it was bound to be a magical evolution (because it absolutely had to be), there might be magical skills on offer that could help with magic. Maybe splurging all the points right now wasn¡¯t the wisest move. ARGHHH! My lack of foresight struck again!


    I should have kept more skill points in reserve, just in case. But no matter; what I had would have to do for now. The only task left was to sift through each one and pick the upgrades. Not a bad part of the job, to be fair¡ªcertainly less of a faff than choosing new organs. Speaking of which, I still hadn''t gotten around to upgrading the Macro-Trophic Sac. To be honest, with Barn bringing along that formidable monster sealed in his bony tree, it simply slipped my mind. That, and...


    I cast a wary glance at the bound monstrosity. Perhaps, after all that rigmarole, I couldn''t stomach the idea of grovelling pathetically before it. But now, the real conundrum reared its head: what on earth was I to do with her? Don''t ask me how I knew it was a ''her,'' but I did¡ªclear as day, somehow.


    Cautiously, I crept closer, my mind whispering assurances that she couldn''t harm me. Barn wouldn¡¯t have lugged in something he couldn¡¯t keep under his thumb, after all. Her eyeless head stayed fixed in my direction; she hadn¡¯t looked away once, not since this circus act began.


    And just like that, down I went, slamming my head to the ground. "I¡¯M SORRY, OH GRAND DUNGEON BEAST! I KNOW YOU¡¯RE LIVID, BUT I SWEAR I DIDN¡¯T MEAN TO INSULT YOUR DIGNITY!"


    She was clever¡ªmore than me, no doubt, given how many times she must have evolved. She¡¯d earned her strength through grit and toil, unlike me, who stumbled into power like a child face-first into a puddle. Yes, Barn could snuff her out, but the mere thought made my innards squirm and wriggle in revolt. No. NO! My very being rebelled. It felt fundamentally wrong, an affront to the natural order. The dragon inside me simply wouldn¡¯t have it.


    Hah.


    Only one choice left, wasn¡¯t there? If I couldn¡¯t stomach ending her, I¡¯d have to pack her off to some distant pit, preferably the one Barn dredged her from. But what if she bore a grudge? What if she had some infernal ability to track me? A beast of her calibre, heaven knows what tricks she had stashed under that hide. As I chewed over the predicament, an odd, grating sound split the air. Sharp, jagged¡ªlike claws on slate.


    Laughter.


    Low and rumbling, it rang out like metal scraping metal.


    I jerked my head up in disbelief.


    The sound was coming from her.

 Chapter 44: The Clash Of Titans

    The grating noise persisted. Constant, unnerving. Rusty hinges¡ªlaughter. I knew it. No, I understood it. Twisted, unmistakable.


    Her head locked on me, but the sound¡ªthat sound¡ªwas hers.


    Then she spoke. Low, guttural, grinding. Not laughter, but close. Like rocks, scraping against one another. No words. Only sounds, relaying meaning.


    Fragmented.


    A picture painted.


    No pity.


    It wasn¡¯t for me. Her eyeless gaze shifted, fixing above me. Right at Barn.


    No restraints. No mercy.


    My thoughts raced, assembling pieces. And then, clarity. I knew what she wanted.


    This wasn¡¯t about survival anymore. No. She wanted a culmination, a proper end to this hunt¡ªBarn¡¯s hunt. Her noise, jagged as it was, carried an emotion I couldn¡¯t ignore.


    The challenge wasn¡¯t mine.


    It was his.


    She didn¡¯t want me to save her. That wasn¡¯t the point. What she wanted¡ªneeded¡ªwas the fight. The chase. The thrill. To end it on her terms, not bound like this. If defeated? She growled again. End me. No half measures.


    I froze.


    I didn¡¯t understand her. Maybe it was because I was a coward.


    Why face oblivion when you can cower and scrape by? Why ask for a final fight you cannot win?


    But she did. She would. And somehow, I knew. She¡¯d rather face death than stay like this¡ªhelpless.


    Her gaze. Hard. Unyielding. Demanded it.


    Release me. Face me. End me right.


    Again, directed at Barn.


    I took a breath, steadying my shaking thoughts. Why did I even understand her this well? Maybe the dragon in me understood her best. This primal need for a true hunt. The idea of her being restrained, denied her final challenge¡ªit grated against everything in me.


    But to kill her outright? No. My core rebelled against it.


    There wasn¡¯t a decision to make. If this is what she craved, what she demanded, who was I to deny her? I locked eyes with Barn and gave a curt nod. He understood. These cramped tunnels wouldn¡¯t do for what was coming. No, I had a better location in mind.


    The logic of it all¡ªcold, calculated¡ªleft a foul taste in my mouth, and my insides churned with rage at my own practicality. But if those blasted cultists had indeed thrown their lot in with the elves, they¡¯d need an explanation for the carnage that had unfolded down here. Why their pitiful little ritual had failed, why no one had survived. A clash of titans ought to cover it nicely.


    A wicked grin curled across my face as the dragon within snarled at my audacity. Not today, Miss Vanity. Today, it¡¯s Miss Sensibility¡¯s turn.


    "Let¡¯s find somewhere a bit more...spacious," I said to the bound beast. "A forest, perhaps?"


    ***


    Claws dug into the earth as I made my slow ascent. Yet, curiously, my paws weren''t quite meeting the soil. A veil of sorts, a barrier. Some trickery of Barn''s, no doubt. Even with my claws burrowed in, they remained unsoiled. A smirk crept across my face as I climbed. Barn''s protection was still with me.


    I was scaling the dungeon¡¯s second opening, the one Barn had crafted earlier. As for Barn and Her... well, I hadn''t settled on a name for her yet. There was an air about the way she spoke, something regal and dignified. Despite the grim fate awaiting her, I couldn''t help but feel a touch of admiration. She had a certain majesty. Queen, perhaps? Yes, Queen seemed fitting.


    The exit loomed closer, branches and foliage carefully obscuring it. I peeled away the camouflage and pulled myself free. Staying within the dungeon during what was about to unfold simply wouldn¡¯t do.


    Then, as my claws touched the grass of the clearing¡ªBOOM!


    An explosion reverberated from the depths below. The ground shook violently, and the forest around me erupted into chaos. From the trees burst forth monstrous vultures with ebony feathers, kites with razor-sharp wings, gargantuan bat-like creatures with talons like knives and other aerial monsters. For a heartbeat, they didn''t turn on each other; they were all just intent on escape. I unfurled my own wings, joining the exodus, rising higher to survey the pandemonium.


    The forest spread out beneath me, vast and wild. The higher I soared, the more the world revealed itself. While the other creatures darted past in a frenzy, I hovered, ascending ever higher, where the sky¡¯s boundless expanse welcomed me once more.


    Ah, the air up here¡ªcool, crisp, tinged with the scent of dawn. The sun was nudging its way over the eastern horizon, casting a blood-red hue through the clouds.


    The ground trembled again, a shudder rippling through the earth as the behemoths below clashed at the ritual site, just as I¡¯d planned. The rumbling persisted¡ªonce, twice¡ªsomething enormous was thrashing within the bowels of the earth.


    But my eyes were fixed on the fortress¡ªthe elven knights of House Valendris, as Yaroslav had described. I could just make out silhouettes, humanoid figures, darting around the fortress.


    What they were up to was anyone''s guess. Yet, something stood out. Wings of light unfurled, silver armour gleaming in that luminous glow. Five, maybe six of them, flitting through the air. There were other noises, likely shouts or commands, though I was too far to catch them. Not that it mattered. Keeping my distance was essential.


    The fortress stood as a stone monolith, its thick walls reinforced with metallic plating. Tall, narrow windows lined the exterior, though given the increasing number of knights armed with bows gathering behind them, they seemed more suited for archers than for allowing light in. The battlements were crowned with spikes, and the only visible entrance¡ªa heavy stone gate¡ªwas securely bolted. As for the dungeon entrance, I hadn¡¯t the faintest clue where it might be; perhaps it lay deeper within, where they could regulate who entered and left. Perhaps it was even used to slay the creatures bold enough to stray outside.


    I hovered in place, sensing the air with my Air sense and making micro-adjustments with my wings, altering air pressure and wing angles to maintain a steady position. It was effortless, just hovering in one spot. The Level 5 flight skill greatly improved my ability to remain still, masterfully controlling turbulence and airflow. And in doing so, I could already feel my scales shifting hue, blending into the soft colours of the morning sky. I doubted the elves would be paying much attention to what forest-dwelling creatures were up to, not with the greater danger lurking beneath them. Still, better to err on the side of caution. I resolved to be as stealthy as possible.


    BOOM. Another tremor. Stronger this time. The ground beneath pulsed, shuddering like some colossal, living thing. The elves on the ground faltered, stumbling where they stood.


    What were they feeling in that moment? I couldn¡¯t say. But they should be safe enough, provided they possessed even a scrap of survival instinct and didn¡¯t end up caught between Barn and Queen¡¯s battle.


    Yet one of the knights caught my eye. One of the five adorned with those wings of light. Clad in grey armour, perhaps some Orichalcum alloy plated with gold. He, along with the four flying behind him¡ªlikely his subordinates¡ªmoved in a direct line.


    He halted, barked something, and the four scattered. They each conjured staffs out of thin air, with the lead knight at the centre, the focal point of it all, right where Barn and the Queen clashed. The ground trembled once more, and without hesitation, they began. Sigils began to swirl around each of them as they channeled their magic. My eyes widened¡ªfive people, all likely red core, given their confidence in the face of such earth-shaking power¡ªworking in unison to channel a single spell. I was immediately fascinated, and part of me instinctively began analysing the sigils that floated in the air, forming spell matrices around them.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Two parallel lines appeared, each embedded with distinct sigils. At the vertices, script formed¡ªa mana-sharing matrix, perhaps. The lead knight raised his staff, murmuring another incantation. As he did, geometric shapes locked into place around him¡ªa triangle at the base, arcs connecting the points, all encased within a larger circle. Hmm?


    The more I studied it, the more baffled I became. Was this a shield? A sealing spell? Or perhaps some kind of channeled attack? Bah! I really needed to stop obsessing over elven magic.


    By now, more knights had begun gathering on the ground, preparing for whatever was unfolding, even as the unrelenting rumble of the earth beneath them caused unease. Though I remained distant, I could still sense the prevailing emotions. This tension and uncertainty. Almost tangible. Electric. They knew something was amiss, but couldn¡¯t grasp exactly what. Perhaps even the sharp, searching glances they exchanged betrayed them.


    The ground trembled once more, and with it, the undercurrent of unease deepened. It seemed they were attempting to form up¡ªhurriedly, yet with effort. Commands were barked, and they spread out, surrounding what they believed to be the origin of the disturbance. Their stances were steady, swords drawn, tips catching the glow of magic. Flames danced along some blades, while others shimmered with the icy blue of frost. A few radiated shadowy mists or sparked with lightning¡ªelemental infusions of all kinds.


    Then the earth shook again, but this time fissures splintered across the forest floor. Whatever was coming, it had begun. Another fresh wave of apprehension.


    Another deafening boom. Louder. The cracks widened, the ground buckling under the strain. Above, the knights with wings of light had finished channelling their spells; massive matrices swirled around them before a barrier of pure white light formed, enclosing the source of the tremors.


    But I knew better. They weren¡¯t ready for this. They couldn¡¯t be. The real threat wasn¡¯t here¡ªat least, not yet. It was beneath them, much deeper, and it was approaching rapidly. Another entrance to the dungeon was about to force its way through.


    And soon enough, it happened. A ray, dark and pure, erupted from the earth, shattering the barrier as though it were made of glass. The ensuing shockwave tore through the air, and the gust that followed almost knocked me off balance mid-flight. I barely managed to maintain my position, wings instinctively angling and adjusting for turbulence. Body tilting to minimize the sudden force. A precise interplay of muscles in my wings and back helped stabilize me once again.


    The sky went quiet.


    And then the earth split.


    Barn appeared first. His true form¡ªfinally revealed. I¡¯d never really seen him like this. Not fully.


    Icy dread prickled my skin, crawling up my spine. But I didn¡¯t freeze. Maybe I was too far. Maybe the contract between us shielded me somehow.


    Even though I wanted to look away, I couldn¡¯t. His true form was¡­ beautiful. In a way that twisted the very meaning of the word.


    A massive skeletal serpent. Far more immense than when he¡¯d shown himself to the cultists. His bones shimmered¡ªtranslucent, like glass, but darker. Something more sinister. Like a painting on the edge of existence, not yet fully realized. The more I stared, the more it shifted. Warped. Sometimes darker, sometimes lighter.


    Wherever his form touched the earth, things just... ceased.


    Grass withered. Trees sagged. Entire patches of the forest simply blinked out of existence. Gone.


    His eyes locked on me. Wide. His jaw cracked open three times, a thunderous cackle echoing pure joy.


    He was enjoying this.


    One thing caught my eye¡ªthe mirror. A massive, hovering mirror encircled by his skeletal coils. It spun slowly, catching glimpses of the forest. Whatever it reflected twisted. Distorted. I couldn¡¯t make sense of it. Each image flickered, warped.


    I saw myself.


    Or was it?


    It wasn¡¯t me.


    Was that real? I had no idea.


    But I had no time to dwell on it.


    Queen followed.


    She didn¡¯t erupt from the earth. No. She bent space around her.


    A spatial monster? My eyes widened.


    One second, the forest around Barn was whole. The next¡ªit was fractured. Shattered. Like shards of glass.


    And between those cracks, she slithered. A silhouette of shifting shadows, slipping through the gaps. Right behind Barn.


    Her tail shot forward. Lightning fast. Aimed for his head.


    Barn¡¯s mirror spun. Space warped. The tail vanished. Reappeared above Barn¡¯s head.


    What followed was too fast to track.


    The mirror kept shifting. The forest blinked out of existence in patches, only to reappear. Barn didn¡¯t move. Not once.


    Queen darted through space. One second here. Another second, gone. The world was a curtain, and she flitted through it¡ªusing it to strike. To hunt.


    Rays of destruction erupted from her. The forest exploded, turned to charred ruin. Her claws, her teeth, her tail¡ªevery strike slicked with poison, all aimed at Barn.


    But every time, the mirror moved. Reflected. Warped space.


    I couldn¡¯t grasp what it was doing.


    This was a hunt on a scale beyond my understanding.


    But I couldn¡¯t look away.


    I knew Barn was holding back. He had to. I¡¯d asked him to. To give her this. Her final hunt. Her last chance to give everything.


    And she was.


    The spatial magic she wielded... she had to be high Red core. Close to Gold, perhaps.


    But this fight¡ªit was the chaos I needed.


    The Elves. Some were frozen. The moment they laid eyes on Barn, they froze.


    The knights with wings of light fell, collapsing when he erupted from the ground. Only one remained aloft¡ªthe leader. But even he wasn¡¯t attacking. He was helping his comrades, pulling back, retreating.


    Screams echoed.


    The frozen knights were dragged away. Their eyes shielded by comrades as they fled back toward the fortress.


    There was no fight to be had. Not unless they had a Gold rank among them.


    Another crash. My gaze snapped back.


    Queen was on the ground.


    Barn¡¯s mirror shifted¡ªreflecting her.


    For a moment, she was frozen there, her form warped in the reflection.


    Then she vanished.


    And the forest around her... ceased to exist.


    It started again.


    A blur of motion. Too fast for my eyes to follow. Their battle consumed what was left of the forest, dragging it into their chaotic dance.


    Barn lashed out, his mirror spinning faster, warping space, reflecting things that didn¡¯t belong. Each time it captured Queen in its reflection, she would vanish¡ªgone for a split second, only to reappear somewhere else.


    Most of the forest was gone now. Erased.


    Queen darted through the folds of space, trying to land a single attack. Each attempt failed. Her claws, her tail, her teeth¡ªall useless. Even the black beams of destruction that she fired from her mouth dissolved before they could reach him.


    The fight would end soon.


    Where before her movements were a blur, now... now I could see. It wasn¡¯t much. A flicker. A difference. But she was slowing down. The exhaustion was creeping in.


    Barn still hadn¡¯t moved. Not once.


    His mirror shifted, catching her reflection again. She vanished. This time, not even enough time to strike. She was conserving her energy. Just to evade. But that wouldn¡¯t last.


    It couldn¡¯t.


    Then, finally... it happened.


    Tired. Slipping. The curtains of space faltered.


    Her form reflected in Barn¡¯s mirror.


    She couldn¡¯t move. Couldn¡¯t muster even an inch. Only then did I notice the cuts.


    Everywhere. All over her.


    When had Barn...?


    I never saw him attack. He¡¯d done nothing but shift that mirror, disintegrating everything around them.


    But she was so wounded.


    And just like that, she collapsed.


    Her majestic form was there again. Before me. This time, no restraints. No indignity. She was free.


    She looked up at the mirror.


    And my heart lodged in my throat.


    She wanted this.


    This free end.


    One final hunt.


    Her eyeless face stared into the mirror, a strange glee in the curve of her body.


    And then... that roar again.


    Low. Guttural.


    One word.


    Thank you.


    And then she was gone.


    Erased. Like everything else that touched Barn¡¯s mirror.


    ***


    It was the same blasted mirror. The very one that had slinked Barn into being, and the one I¡¯d used for that infernal ritual. Now, it floated before me, swirling like a menacing black vortex, as though it were the portal to something far darker than my poor brain could ever conjure.


    Barn stood there, his gaze fixed on me¡ªthose ridiculous, painted-on eyes as adorable as ever, but now¡­ there was a hint of something new. A glimmer of sadness, perhaps.


    I knew what that look meant. He¡¯d burned through more of his chaos¡ªfar more than either of us had anticipated¡ªand in doing so, had sliced down his already short time with me to mere crumbs.


    But that was fine...


    I suppose I should¡¯ve felt something. Grief? Guilt, at the very least. But no, I was numb as a gravestone. Explaining my bond with Barn was like trying to knit fog. Was it just fear, the same terror that Lotte had stitched into his soul and passed onto me? Or was there something else lurking beneath the surface, something deeper that I hadn¡¯t quite grasped?


    Fear was a weapon, that much I knew. Dominance was carved from terror, shaping minds and bending wills like wet clay. Was that all Barn was? Just a creature beaten into submission by Lotte and delivered to me? If it was just fear binding us, it would make sense, all neat and tidy.


    But what twisted my guts was the affection. That warmth I felt from him, despite his ghoulish form. His loyalty wasn¡¯t just about cowering obedience¡ªit was far more complex. Affection and dominance, they¡¯re like chalk and cheese. Fear keeps creatures tethered, yes¡ªbut not like this. Not with the way Barn looked at me now, with such sad eyes, as though the idea of leaving me was the worst of fates. Fear makes you follow orders, sure, but it doesn¡¯t make you seek comfort or protection.


    Barn¡¯s loyalty, his gaze, the way he responded to my every command¡ªit all felt so¡­ genuine. Not forced. Not coerced.


    I didn¡¯t know what to make of it.


    But time was ticking. He was shrinking, bit by bit, like the last dribbles of a candle melting away. Whatever chaos he had left couldn¡¯t even hold him together anymore. The mirror¡¯s abyss swirled faster now, the gateway to the Netherworld opening wider.


    Barn looked back at the mirror, then back at me, as if he had no desire to return to that dreadful place.


    I stepped closer and gently cradled his small, shrinking form. Whatever the source of his affection, I wanted him to know it was reciprocated. For everything he¡¯d done for me, I wouldn¡¯t forget.


    ¡°Maybe one day, when I¡¯ve gathered enough mana and I¡¯m strong enough to keep you here, I¡¯ll summon you again.¡±


    His eyes widened, painted though they were, and for a moment, I could swear he almost looked hopeful.


    ¡°You¡¯d come back, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± I asked, almost pleading.


    He bobbed his head furiously in an exaggerated nod, looking for all the world like a cartoon character. I nearly laughed. Silly Barn.


    ¡°Then wait for me. I¡¯ll work hard to get that strength.¡±


    With that, I brought my paw to my mouth and bit down, drawing blood. This was Barn¡¯s prize, according to Lotte¡ªa few drops of my blood. It felt absurd in comparison to everything he¡¯d done. He opened his fake mouth, eager as ever, and I let a few drops land on the fabric where his lips would be. They were absorbed instantly.


    And then he was off¡ªshooting out of my hands like a missile, clattering his jaws with manic glee.


    Suddenly, massive tendrils burst from the mirror. I staggered back, but they weren¡¯t after me. They wrapped themselves around Barn, pulling him slowly back into the swirling abyss.


    Just before he was fully drawn in, one final clack of his jaws echoed in my mind. For the first time, it formed a clear sentence.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ll be preparing!¡± I shouted back as the last of him disappeared into the mirror.

 Chapter 45: Exotic Skill Upgrades

    The trees towered around me, their bark rough and as jagged as an old sailor¡¯s beard. I clung to one of the branches, claws sunk in like a cat that bit off more than it could chew. Landing after a flight¡ªwell, let¡¯s just say I wasn¡¯t exactly the picture of grace. Bit of a blunder, really. Maybe I was a bit too round for this sort of lark. At least at this stage.


    I squinted through the tangled mess of branches, the leaves all knotted into a thick green quilt that stretched as far as the eye could see. The sun was still rubbing the sleep from its eyes, low on the horizon, but its rays barely made a dent in the gloom under this canopy. Whatever breed these trees were, they¡¯d done a cracking job of keeping the sun out, casting the whole forest into a sort of eternal twilight.


    I closed my eyes and took a long breath. The air was thick with the heady scent of wet earth, rotting leaves, and moss clinging to anything it could. But there was something else. Something off. My eyes snapped open, my attention drawn away.


    In the distance, the forest simply... ended.


    Where once mighty trees had stood, proud as old kings, there was only desolation. A scar, raw and ugly, slashed across the landscape where life had been snuffed out. Blackened earth stretched for miles, a great gaping wound in the heart of the forest.


    Yet the elven fortress still stood, untouched as ever. I¡¯d told Barn to give it a wide berth, and clearly, they kept up their end. That place must¡¯ve had some sort of magical defences. One of Queen¡¯s ruinous beams had carved its way right up to it, only to fizzle out just before it reached. Likely some kind of protective barrier. Typical elves.


    Suddenly, a grey flake drifted down onto my snout¡ªash. It fell softly, like the ghost of a snowfall, the quiet echo of the battle¡¯s end. A titanic clash, contained but deadly, leaving what was once a lush, green world now swallowed by shadow.


    I wasn¡¯t quite sure what to make of it all.


    This was my first time seeing such destruction on this scale. My experience before... well, it was limited to school¡¯s mock battles amongst fledgling mages, or instructors teaching via demonstration, nothing more than child¡¯s play. I¡¯d never even dreamed of witnessing something like this.


    But instead of fear, something else bubbled up inside me.


    A fire ignited in my chest, burning hotter with every beat of my heart. This devastation, this ruin¡ªit stirred something deep, something primal. My pulse quickened, a strange pleasure washing over me as I gazed upon the wreckage. The sight of this destruction... it thrilled me. Pleased me.


    I wanted more.


    This power.


    And I knew the path to get it.


    Images from the battle flashed in my mind¡ªBarn and Queen¡¯s titanic struggle, the world splintering like a shattered mirror, Queen dancing through the cracks as the forest dissolved into pools of shadow and ruin. That image burned itself into my soul.


    I craved it.


    The power to claim my place, to be the dragon who roared with pride and meant it.


    I closed my eyes and breathed in once more. Ah, yes. It was time to press on. With that, I spread my wings, fluttered briefly over the treetops, then dropped down to the clearing. There¡¯d be no grand flying down those tunnels, after all.


    But deeper I would go. I had to see what kind of Biome this dungeon would reveal further in. Yet before that, oh, there would be preparations to make.


    A great many.


    ***


    Name: Jade


    Level: 10


    Species: Hungerborn Hatchling (Draconis) (II) (+)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 15


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 32


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 40


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 27


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 0/0


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 19/29


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Controlled Claw Swipe: Level 10 (II) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Stealth: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crushing Crunch: Level 10 (II) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Quick Dash: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flight: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Deep Breathing: Level 5 (I) (+)


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    </li>


    <li>


    Air Sense: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Climb: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crush Claw: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes - Focusing Lenses, Peripheral Optimization (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws - Claw Flexibility, Razor-Edge Claws (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales - Colour Adaptation, Shock-Absorbent Scales (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings - Hollow Bones (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir, Mana Conservation (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac: +5 (+)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 4


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 1


    </li>


    </ul>


    I found myself once more in the sticky confines of the sap tunnel, glaring at my stat screen. Time wasn¡¯t on my side, and I needed to delve deeper¡ªand quickly too. The chaos had passed, but it wouldn¡¯t be long before curious eyes came poking around. I had no intention of lingering like a fool caught in the rain.


    Soon, I¡¯d be ready¡ªready to descend further into the proper entrance of this place, to reach the main biome of the dungeon. But first, a little preparation was in order. I needed to boost the skills that were ripe for a second advancement, the ones on the very cusp of a breakthrough. Second-tier upgrades had given me a nice jolt of power, but the tantalizing prospect of a third-tier boost had me grinning like a cat in the cream. Perhaps advancing these skills would unlock even more achievements for my evolution. Hehe.


    Right, first up¡ªControlled Claw Swipe.


    Controlled Claw Swipe (II): Moderates swipe force, enabling rapid cuts or heavier blows based on the situation.


    Advancement Options (Requires 1 SP):


    <ul>


    <li>


    Echo Claw Swipe (III): Upon executing a swipe, a delayed "echo" of the strike materializes. Target is hit twice in quick succession¡ªonce by the physical claws, followed by the force-based echo. Both hits are physical.


    </li>


    <li>


    Phantom Claw Swipe (III): Extends the swipe range by manifesting force claws that mirror Jade''s movements, enabling short-range strikes. Force claws are physical but less powerful than direct contact.


    </li>


    </ul>


    Okay... what. the. fuck?


    What on earth were these options? Up until now, every upgrade had been a simple refinement, a sharpening of technique. Each one brought me closer to mastering the perfect claw swipe. Alright, fair enough, I¡¯d only had one upgrade so far, but still! Tier three, eh? I suppose even muscle memory had its limits.


    The echoes of the last battle rang in my mind. Yes, it made sense I¡¯d get something a bit... exotic at this stage.


    Excitement bubbled up in my chest. But, a niggling thought¡ªitched like a flea bite¡ªdid these upgrades need mana? Not a peep about mana usage anywhere, and I had none to spare at the moment. No matter. I¡¯d be unlocking my mana soon enough, so even if these moves did drink up a bit of the stuff, I¡¯d be ready for it. But something told me they wouldn¡¯t need mana at all.


    Hmm.


    Time to choose. Which one suited me best? I mulled over the options...


    Echo Claw Swipe. Now, that one''s clever. A swipe, then¡ªlike an echo¡ªanother hit follows. First, my claws strike. Then, this echo trails behind, doubling the damage in one clean motion. Both hits are physical. A treat, really. Twice the damage for no extra effort. No ranged attacks yet, so this? Handy. Quite delicious too¡ªtwo strikes, back to back. Individually, they¡¯re fine. Together? Devastating. A cheeky upgrade compared to everything else.


    Then there¡¯s Phantom Claw Swipe. It extends my range, force claws mimicking every movement. Less power, though. A trade-off: range over impact. Great for keeping enemies away, but... not for those heavy hits I¡¯m after.


    Argh, the agony. Why must I choose between such tempting options? Cruel system.


    Right, Jade. Breathe. Phantom Claw¡¯s reach was appealing, but it was limited¡ªonly around my claws. Not like wielding a magic sword, just an extended arm. I''d still need to close the gap eventually. Though, I could see a few clever uses...


    On the other hand, Echo Claw¡ªsimple. Double the damage in a single swipe. No frills, just power. Efficient. Lethal. I liked getting the most out of my claws. They¡¯d served me well. It only made sense to double down on their sharpness with all these mutations.


    Yes. Echo Claw Swipe. Doubling up with each strike? That¡¯s the one. Simple, reliable, lethal. Just what I needed.


    Ah, splendid. Choice locked in, the same icy rush of knowledge surged through me. Sharp. Brisk.


    But this time... oh, this time it was different.


    It didn¡¯t just whisper improvements, didn¡¯t just feed my muscles new ways to slice, to strike. No. This time, something else stirred. Something far more tantalizing.


    A manifestation of my strength. But beyond me.


    If I had to compare, it felt like Quick Dash. Except, instead of draining stamina in one exhausting burst, it channeled outward. An extension of my very self.


    It didn¡¯t sap my mana. Far too practical for that. It fed on stamina. Perfect.


    Ripe for testing.


    I cast my gaze down the tunnel. Bark walls, bright sap veins slithering through. Ahh, yes. Perfect.


    I crouched, claws ready. The pulse of excitement swelled in my chest.


    Let¡¯s see what you can really do, then.


    I lashed out. Just before my claws met bark¡ªthere. A tug. A polite request from the force behind me. I accepted it, and in that moment, my swipe siphoned stamina.


    Thunk.


    The wall splintered. Bark cracked like brittle bones. And then¡ªthere it was¡ªthe delayed echo. The air shimmered, and the force from my strike followed. A perfect aftershock, striking the same spot. Another crack. Deeper. Ruthless precision.


    I couldn¡¯t help it¡ªa low cackle bubbled up. Raspy. Wicked. Like some ancient crone.


    Shivers of delight rippled through my spine.


    Ahhh...


    That. Was. Perfect.


    Not magic. But oh-so-close. The anticipation of my next evolution simmered, even more delicious.


    But enough of that.


    Focus, Jade.


    I slapped myself lightly. Onwards to the next upgrade! Possibility was, with any luck, it¡¯d be just as glorious.


    Crushing Crunch (II): Applies targeted pressure with bite, maximizing structural damage to bones or weaker armor.


    Advancement Options (Requires 1 SP):


    <ul>


    <li>


    Crunch Aura (III): Bite now generates a force fang aura extending beyond the physical jaws, enabling short-range attacks without fully closing the distance. Weaker than the physical bite.


    </li>


    <li>


    Spectral Crunch (III): A force-based aura of teeth manifests upon biting, enlarging the attack and adding a little ranged effect. Increased damage when the bite fully penetrates the target.


    </li>


    </ul>


    Right then, time to knuckle down and stop gawping at every bit of odd skills as if it¡¯s the first spark of magic I¡¯ve ever seen! Jade! That was only the beginning, ohohoho.


    Ahem, let¡¯s have a butcher¡¯s at what we¡¯ve got here. Once again, the choices seemed different at first glance, but their use was as familiar as my claw swipe upgrades. One option offered a bit of extra range for my bite¡ªeasy peasy¡ªthough it¡¯d cost me a smidge of power in return. The other? Well, it was practically Echo Claw Swipe all over again, except this time with a second, larger force bite tagging along for the ride, doubling the damage and adding a nice bit of aftershock once the bite sank in.


    So, the first option gave me a touch of versatility, while the second promised raw, unbridled power¡ªdouble the damage, maybe more. I was toughening up nicely, and with only one pick, I found myself leaning towards the latter. Simple. Direct. Brutal.


    Right-o. Spectral Crunch it was. All that remained was to upgrade my Macro-Trophic Sac. Which I was absolutely not avoiding because of the agony it brought to my, erm, rear regions. Absolutely not!


    I gave my head a good shake, mentally clicking on Spectral Crunch, and welcomed the delightful rush of knowledge flooding in. Ahh, lovely stuff, if only my mutations were like this too. Tsk.

 Chapter 46: How Am I Understanding All This?

    As much as I fancied a nibble of that Spectral Crunch, time simply wasn''t on my side. So, with a hasty flick, I pulled up the available upgrades for the good ol'' Macro-Trophic Sac.


    Macro-Trophic Sac +5 Advancement Options


    Choose one of the following:


    Hyper-Digestive Enzymes:


    Accelerates nutrient breakdown and absorption, leading to significantly faster stamina regeneration from meals.


    Rapid Coagulation Response:


    Transforms consumed food into a powerful healing mechanism, allowing for swift recovery from injuries post-combat.


    Nutrient Conversion Efficiency:


    Improves the digestion of a wider variety of food, including toxic or nutrient-poor sources, maximizing energy extraction from unconventional prey.


    Stamina Surge Reservoir:


    Enables the storage of excess nutrients in a reserve, which can be tapped into during periods of stamina depletion for immediate recovery.


    Metabolic Surge Adaptation:


    Upon feeding, temporarily enhances physical performance, including strength, speed, and stamina regeneration, for a short burst of heightened activity.


    Blimey! I nearly had to pinch myself at the sight of these options. They were in an entirely different league compared to the other organs¡¯ first upgrades. Wait a tick¡­ Was this what that mission reward was on about when it mentioned a ¡®Rare Organ¡¯? And crikey, this organ was a right whopper to begin with! Stamina and a bit of healing, right out the gate? As I delved deeper, it became obvious¡ªeach upgrade seemed poised to double down on its original talents.


    Hmm¡­


    Right then, time for a proper breakdown. As much as I was in a mad dash, this was no decision to be made in haste. I began to mentally file away every little detail.


    First up, Hyper-Digestive Enzymes: Boosted stamina regeneration after chowing down. Judging by the description, I¡¯d even be able to convert small prey into a hefty energy stockpile. Mighty tempting, especially now that I knew my new skills guzzled stamina for the more impressive ¡­effects. A cracking option. But I bit my lip¡ªwell, as much as my current anatomy would allow¡ªand moved on.


    Next, Rapid Coagulation Response: Similar deal, but instead of topping up my stamina, this one focused on healing. Recover faster after a meal, turning food into some kind of regenerative juice. Enhanced healing and wound recovery, essentially. I hadn¡¯t taken too many scrapes thus far, but knowing what lies ahead in this hostile dungeon, it certainly wouldn¡¯t stay that way. Another corker of an option.


    Finally, Nutrient Conversion Efficiency: Now, this one had me pondering. I hadn¡¯t had much trouble eating any creature so far, but this upgrade seemed to suggest I¡¯d be able to munch on a wider variety¡ªpossibly even those toxic to me? The thought was a bit spine-tingling¡­ considering I had been merrily devouring all sorts up till now.


    Perhaps it wasn¡¯t too big a deal, though. After all, I¡¯d eaten those nasty creepers, and some of them were definitely toxic, but it didn¡¯t seem to faze me. This upgrade seemed more about squeezing more nutrition out of less, ideal for places where food might be a rarity. But here I was, knee-deep in a dungeon, and I doubted food would ever be in short supply down here.


    Fourth up was the Stamina Surge Reservoir: If I¡¯d read it right, it meant I could squirrel away excess nutrients, stashing them as a reserve pool of stamina. And in the heat of battle, I could tap into that reserve to rapidly restore stamina in short bursts. I exhaled slowly. That would be bloody brilliant. I wouldn¡¯t have to fret about running out of stamina while using my skills, so long as I¡¯d made the proper preparations beforehand. A bit like having a second wind on tap. Perfect for dungeon diving, if you ask me.


    But before I made my final decision, one last option loomed before me, and I couldn¡¯t help but curse under my breath¡ªwhy were they all so damn tempting?!


    Ahh... the last contender... Metabolic Surge Adaptation: So, this one would let me temporarily boost my performance, provided I¡¯d stuffed my face recently. Made sense, I suppose. How else would a ravenous dragonling rev up her metabolism? Essentially, it offered a short-lived burst of combat prowess, but it was all about how much grub I¡¯d managed to shovel down beforehand. And something told me I¡¯d be even hungrier after using it... a vicious cycle, really.


    I stopped for a moment, letting the weight of it all sink in. Up until now, none of my upgrades had really altered my combat style much, but these? These were different. They were tailored for feeding frenzy combat, with each one offering its own special edge. I found myself missing the old, subtle upgrades. No fuss, no decisions to agonise over. But here I was, staring down five equally tantalising choices, and I could only walk away with one.


    Right. Time to cut through the noise.


    While Metabolic Surge Adaptation was undoubtedly the most powerful option on paper, something about it reeked of uncertainty. Sure, I had food in abundance now, but what about deeper in the dungeon? There was no Barn with me anymore¡ªjust me, scraping by on whatever I could scrounge. It was too dependent on having a full belly, and that gave me pause.


    On the other hand, Stamina Surge Reservoir was calling to me like a siren¡¯s song. The logic was simple: I had skills that devoured stamina during battle, so having a backup stash was like carrying a spare flask of energy. As long as I ate the usual amount, I¡¯d have a bit extra to fuel my attacks. No need to overcomplicate it.


    Hmm.


    Yes.


    It was perfect. I cast one last glance at the other options, then closed my eyes and made my choice.


    ***


    Name: Jade


    Level: 10


    Species: Hungerborn Hatchling (Draconis) (II) (+)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 15


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 32


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 40


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 27


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 0/0


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 19/29


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Echo Claw Swipe: Level 1 (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 5 (I) (+)


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Stealth: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Spectral Crunch: Level 1 (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Quick Dash: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flight: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Deep Breathing: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Air Sense: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Climb: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crush Claw: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes - Focusing Lenses, Peripheral Optimization (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws - Claw Flexibility, Razor-Edge Claws (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales - Colour Adaptation, Shock-Absorbent Scales (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings - Hollow Bones (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir, Mana Conservation (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac - Stamina Surge Reservoir (II): +0


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 2


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 1


    </li>


    </ul>


    Everything was in place. I¡¯d done it all ¨C devoured more rats than I care to admit, mastered a ridiculous number of skills, and twisted my insides into a proper mess of mutations.


    A deep breath. Steady now.


    This was it. I was prepared.


    Mentally clicking the plus behind the species, it appeared once again.


    [Level Cap Reached: Maximum Level Attained. Evolution Process: Available and Ready for Initiation.]


    [Maximum Level Achieved for Current Evolution Stage. Evolution will result in form alteration and stat enhancement as a monster.]


    [Caution: Evolution will reduce Experience Points and Morphogen acquisition from lesser-evolved entities.]


    Fair enough. The plan had been to have Barn bring in a veritable buffet so I could stock up on Morphogens before any pesky penalties kicked in after the evolution. But alas, looked like that would be my little side quest now.


    Right then.


    [Would you like to utilize the Evolution Space?]


    Yes!


    Once again, the familiar pull. The sap tunnel began its usual routine of twisting and turning into some otherworldly kaleidoscope. Out of nowhere, my dungeon crawled back to life, its tendrils of earth wrapping around me, layer upon comforting layer. How it managed to slip into the tunnel of sap was anyone¡¯s guess, but there it was, swaddling me in that bizarre yet oddly comforting way.


    Like a warm embrace from someone you loved.


    Fear not, oh child of Gaia. Let your soul find peace and take all the time you need to choose your path.


    In Her gentle embrace, you are held and protected.


    That same soothing, lilting voice. Now that I think about it¡­ was that Lotte¡¯s voice? Nah, I¡¯m definitely imagining things.


    And just like that, the dungeon continued its earthy embrace, wrapping tighter until my vision spiraled into oblivion.


    Darkness descended, and consciousness slipped from my grasp once again.


    ***


    Once again, I found myself before that oh-so-familiar door, back in my beastkin form, donned in that same inky black dress. But this time, rather than hesitating, I flung it open with gusto. No more dithering, I strode right in, where my doppelganger was, as usual, hunched over that strange apparatus behind the desk.


    Ah, there it was again¡ªthat scent! The mingling of all those peculiar liquids filled the air, easing my soul. I¡¯d come to appreciate this place, now that I was in the know. No longer on edge like before, I could finally take it all in, unbothered.


    But the cheek of her! Not even a glance in my direction as she fiddled with those flasks, pouring and measuring her strange concoctions. A right thorn in my side, that one.


    I let out a sigh. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve already guessed which evolution I¡¯m picking this time!¡± She¡¯d nailed it last time, and my eyes narrowed in suspicion.


    Still, she didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Oh, no worries¡ªthis batch isn¡¯t for you.¡±


    I huffed, casting a sidelong glance at the shelf beside her. My evolution recipes. And blimey, there were a lot more books now.


    ¡°Well, well! Looks like even you haven¡¯t a clue which one I¡¯ll go for this time!¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve got a pretty good idea,¡± she smirked. ¡°Just curious to see how you¡¯ll wade through them.¡± Then she leaned in, voice low, ¡°Bet you noticed something else too.¡±


    I did. Unintentionally, of course. The first thing my eyes were drawn to, clear as day¡ªfour new books in the rainbow section.


    ¡­


    ¡°What¡¯re the odds that at least one of those books has nothing to do with the sun or light?¡±


    She burst into a wicked laugh. ¡°Slim to none, love. But who knows! Go have a gander!¡± Still chuckling, she turned back to her... well, whatever experiment she was meddling with.


    She grabbed a... test tube and casually dumped another mysterious liquid into it.


    Now, my curiosity was well and truly piqued. ¡°What are you doing exactly?¡±


    Without even glancing up, she answered, ¡°Oh, everything here¡¯s designed to upgrade your body somehow. Fascinating stuff, really. Since I¡¯ve got the know-how, I¡¯ve been working on something that¡¯ll tinker with your dragon body¡¯s molecular structure.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°Oh¡­ I¡¯ll pretend I understood any of that.¡±


    She smirked. ¡°I¡¯m synthesising a compound to boost the neuroplasticity of your dragon form. Basically, a potion to permanently up your intelligence stat by 1¡ªbetter memory, quicker learning, cognitive supercharge.¡±


    Another blink. ¡°... You can do that?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely!¡±


    ¡°And I get to drink those potions?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a downer.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t help it. I¡¯m bound by the rules. Just your evolution, nothing beyond that.¡±


    ¡°Then why bother?¡±


    ¡°Got any better suggestions?¡±


    I thought for a moment, then gestured to the shelf stuffed with my evolution recipes. ¡°How about you help me pick the most useful ones? Please!¡±


    ¡°You sure you don¡¯t want to go through all of them?¡±


    ¡°...no?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a yes.¡±


    ¡°Bah!¡± I grumbled, watching her heat some concoction in a flask over a strange rune that burned without fire. Then it hit me. ¡°Wait¡ªwhat¡¯s that? Acetone?¡±


    ¡°Propylene glycol,¡± she replied. ¡°Works as a solvent here.¡±


    Things were starting to make a bizarre amount of sense. How on earth was I understanding this?


    ¡°Why not ethanol?¡± I asked, my brain moving faster than I could keep up.


    She shrugged. ¡°Less toxic, better reaction conditions for what I¡¯m making. Also, I¡¯d prefer not to knock us out with ethanol fumes while you rummage through your evolution scrolls.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your reagent?¡±


    ¡°2,3-dihydroxybenzaldehyde.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re condensing it with...?¡±


    ¡°An amine. Piperidine.¡±


    ¡°Schiff base?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Spot on. Trying to create a ligand for metal ion coordination. Long-term neurotransmitter modulation.¡±


    I blinked again, snapping out of my daze. How did I even know all of this? My doppelg?nger was grinning like a Cheshire cat, and I¡¯d bet my claws she knew exactly where this knowledge was coming from. From my dreamworld, of course. Lotte knew, too. But naturally, not a soul was going to enlighten me.


    Still, curiosity won out. ¡°What¡¯s the end goal here, then?¡±


    She swirled the test tube, eyeing the mixture. It had taken on an odd, gleaming hue. ¡°Theoretically, better synaptic function. In practice? I¡¯m aiming for heightened memory retention.¡±


    I raised a sceptical eyebrow. ¡°I actually understood everything you just said. Any idea why I suddenly get it?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± she replied, turning to face me with a glint in her eye. ¡°Fancy another go at it?¡±


    ¡°At what, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Your sudden knack for advanced alchemy. Or should I say... chemistry.¡±


    I glanced at the evolution books for a heartbeat, my pulse quickening. ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t know. Feels odd. Maybe?¡±


    ¡°Brilliant!¡± She wasted no time, gesturing towards a set of pristine glass test tubes, neatly arranged and glimmering under the faint light. ¡°First question: Which has a higher boiling point¡ªhexane or ethanol?¡±


    ¡°Ethanol,¡± I replied, barely hesitating.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Hydrogen bonding.¡±


    ¡°Good. What¡¯s the pKa of acetic acid?¡±


    ¡°4.76.¡±


    ¡°Correct again. What¡¯s the ideal temperature for a Fischer esterification?¡±


    ¡°Depends on the ester, but generally around 60 to 80¡ãC.¡±


    ¡°Not bad at all.¡± She added a few drops of a deep crimson liquid to the concoction, watching it swirl and shimmer. ¡°Last one: What¡¯s the molarity of a solution if I dissolve 0.5 moles of solute in 2 litres of solvent?¡±


    ¡°0.25 M,¡± I answered, my eyes widening in surprise.


    She stirred the mixture, a slight shimmer dancing in the glass. ¡°Excellent. Now, would you prefer to increase neurotransmitter release or receptor density?¡±


    I frowned, meeting her gaze. ¡°Receptor density. But... what¡¯s the catch here?¡±


    Her grin widened into something altogether too mischievous. ¡°You¡¯ll find out. Bottoms up.¡±


    She handed me the beaker.


    I eyed it warily, then looked back at her. ¡°Didn¡¯t you just say I couldn¡¯t have this? Only my evolution, nothing more.¡±


    Her grin only grew. ¡°I won¡¯t tell the system if you won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°But... aren¡¯t you... the system? In a way?¡±


    She said nothing, merely gestured again at the potion. Bah, always so cryptic.


    ¡°This¡¯ll increase my intelligence by one?¡±


    She smiled and nodded. With a resigned sigh, I downed the concoction in one gulp. Gahh! So bitter!


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel any different,¡± I grumbled.


    ¡°You will... once you wake up.¡±


    Well, it was a +1 intelligence boost, anyway. I was gaining more than that per level, but an extra stat point never hurt. It did, however, make me wonder what else my doppelg?nger could pull off. Could we possibly... tweak my evolution somehow?


    ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking. Don¡¯t. Not yet, anyway. It won¡¯t be possible for some time. Maybe when our intelligence is high enough.¡±


    So it was possible. My gaze drifted back to the shelf of evolution recipe. Well, best get to work and see what new options awaited me this time.

 Chapter 47: Manaweaver

    I dove back into the pile of books with renewed interest. And, of course, my doppelganger had been right¡ªagain. I did, in fact, want to sift through the lot of them. A pang of curiosity gnawed at me, urging me to figure out exactly what options lay before me.


    The lower rarities? Well, they were much of a muchness. Essentially the same old framework with a few tweaks here and there. The organs? Identical. The only real difference was a slight boost in stats and, of course, the added bonus of a mana core. Hardly worth getting excited about.


    My eyes stayed sharp, scanning for any evolution with the faintest whiff of mana veins. No luck in the bottom ranks, but there were some peculiar evolutions tucked away, particularly in the red rarity section. That¡¯s where things got interesting.


    Stoneflesh


    A proper beefed-up defensive evolution. The illustration alone was enough to make my shoulders sag¡ªa body sheathed in thick, dark, jagged plates of armour. Heavy stuff, it seemed like. Practically screaming ¡®tough as nails.¡¯


    [Description: Focused on extreme durability, this evolution enhances physical defense through layered, mineral-rich armor.]


    [Stat Bonuses: +4 Durability, +1 Strength per level until next evolution.]


    [New Organ: Litho-Dermis Gland ¨C Synthesizes microscopic mineral deposits, integrating into scales to increase density and toughness without sacrificing flexibility.]


    [Unlocks Earth Affinity.]


    [Unlocks Mana Core: Basic Monster Core ¨C Enables internal mana storage and channeling for abilities or mana-converting organs.]


    [Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    A bruiser, no doubt about it. But then a thought struck me.


    ¡°And how exactly did I get this evolution?¡± I asked, turning to my doppelganger, who was fiddling with that enormous contraption again. She cast a quick glance my way, her fingers never pausing in their work, and I waved the book at her.


    ¡°Hmm, maxed out Scale Harden at the first tier, defensive upgrade to your scales at the second,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°Ahh, so skills do affect what evolutions are available,¡± I mused, piecing it together.


    She gave a nod and went back to her tinkering, not missing a beat.


    Suddenly, the puzzle began to fall into place. That¡¯s why there were so many more books this time. It seemed there was at least one evolution tied to every skill, especially in the lower rarities.


    I flipped the page and continued my search.


    Skyrazor


    Ah, an air-themed evolution, all about staying featherlight and graceful. My form even took on a more serpentine elegance in this one¡ªslim, sleek, and undeniably stunning.


    [Stat Bonuses: +1 Intelligence, +2 Will, +2 Durability per level until next evolution.]


    [New Organ: Subcutaneous Air Pockets ¨C Flexible air sacs beneath the skin allow rapid buoyancy adjustments for enhanced aerial maneuverability.]


    [Unlocks Wind Affinity.]


    [Unlocks Mana Core: Basic Monster Core ¨C Enables internal mana storage and channeling for abilities or mana-converting organs.]


    [Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    Next on the list? Echo Serpent. Now, this one was clearly linked to that echo upgrade I snagged for my claws.


    [Description: Echo-based evolution specializing in soundwave attacks and disorienting enemies via vibrations.]


    [Stat Bonuses: +2 Strength, +2 Intelligence, +1 Will per level until next evolution.]


    [New Organ: Acoustic Resonator Chamber ¨C Specialized chamber near the throat manipulates and amplifies soundwaves using Stamina and Wind Mana, creating concussive blasts or enabling echolocation.]


    [Unlocks Wind Affinity.]


    [Unlocks Mana Core: Basic Monster Core ¨C Enables internal mana storage and channeling for abilities or mana-converting organs.]


    [Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    Nearly every evolution seemed to unlock that Mana Core, which meant that, moving forward, no matter what I picked, mana would be mine to wield. Not to mention, each evolution came with its own affinity. Though how exactly that worked was still a bit murky. Back home, an affinity simply meant one could more easily sling spells from a particular magical path. Most folk in Randall had Light Affinity and followed the battlemage route, the path of Winter Salamander¡ªillusion magic, naturally.


    Still, I¡¯d need to watch my step. My affinity choice could very well shove me down one particular lane, slamming the doors shut on others. But pah! Every path held its own beauty, none with any truly dire drawbacks. Some just needed a bit more grit and elbow grease to tread. Besides, who¡¯s to say I couldn¡¯t unlock multiple affinities? Surely, with each evolution, more doors could swing wide open?


    ¡°Could I unlock multiple affinities?¡± I asked my doppelganger.


    ¡°Yes,¡± came the blunt reply.


    Splendid.


    I grinned as I reached for the final book in the red rarity section.


    Flame Ravager.


    Oh ho? The name had a certain... fire, no pun intended. I flicked the book open, a grin spreading across my face. The same sleek, serpentine form, but slightly larger. My scales looked as though they¡¯d cracked around the joints, heat pouring from the gaps. Blackish-red, more pronounced around the seams. And by the grace of Thalador, my claws had grown monstrous!


    I eagerly turned the page.


    [Description: Form optimized for destruction and relentless combat, enhancing melee and fire-based attacks.]


    [Stat Bonuses: +2 Strength, +2 Intelligence, +1 Durability per level until next evolution.]


    [New Organ: Pyroclastic Tendons ¨C Tendons briefly superheat using fire mana, turning physical strikes into incendiary attacks that cause burns on impact.]


    [Evolution Exclusive Ability: Inferno Overload ¨C Absorbs fire mana from the environment(if available) and overcharges all fire-based attacks for increased damage output.]


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. [Unlocks Fire Affinity.]


    [Unlocks Mana Core: Basic Monster Core ¨C Enables internal mana storage and channeling for abilities or mana-converting organs.]


    [Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    I blinked, taking a moment to absorb the sight. Damn, that was a splendid evolution¡ªjust imagine, strutting about as a fiery menace! Though, now that I thought of it, there was something I¡¯d overlooked in my excitement last time.


    ¡°What¡¯s this ¡®evolution-exclusive ability¡¯ business? I think I had one in my last evolution too¡ªEndless Hunger, wasn¡¯t it? Never quite reaching fullness, always ready to gorge like a bottomless pit.¡± I raised an eyebrow at my doppelganger, curious.


    ¡°An evolution-exclusive ability is exactly what it says on the tin,¡± came the matter-of-fact reply, ¡°It¡¯s an ability you lose when you evolve again. Only useful for that specific form.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, makes sense,¡± I nodded, then frowned. ¡°Still, a bit odd how I didn¡¯t spot it on my stat screen.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because there¡¯s a separate window for active abilities,¡± she explained. ¡°You can add them to your base stat screen, but they¡¯re hidden by default.¡±


    ¡°Huh. And why keep them separate?¡±


    ¡°The default setting avoids cluttering your stat screen with too much information. Abilities and Techniques don¡¯t show unless you manually allow it. You can fine-tune what you see¡ªjust focus on what you want.¡±


    Right. Mental note for when I wake up. Useful bit of tomfoolery to remember.


    My attention shifted back to the golden rarity section, now boasting four books instead of just one. And oh, I knew one of them held the prize I was after. I could feel it¡ªMana Veins, practically singing out to me.


    With a steadying breath, I reached for the first book.


    Devourer Dragonling.


    Sounded like an upgrade of my Hungerborn Hatchling, and as I flipped the page, that¡¯s precisely what it was. Similar form¡ªbig belly, serpentine neck, long tail, and wicked wings¡ªbut this one had a more... skeletal air. Its skin stretched thin, with bones faintly visible beneath, lending it a ghastly, emaciated look. And that jaw, still extending down to the throat, perhaps even further.


    Grim. Terrifying. Utterly glorious.


    [Description: Evolution designed for faster breakdown of consumed matter, converting it directly into Stamina and Mana. Focuses on metabolizing a wider range of materials.]


    [Stat Bonuses: +3 Intelligence, +1 Will, +2 Durability, +2 Strength per level until next evolution.]


    [New Organ: Hyper-Catalytic Gullet ¨C Specialized esophagus with hyper-efficient enzymes capable of processing all forms of flora and fauna.]


    [Evolution Exclusive Ability: Catalytic Assimilation ¨C Converts consumed material into Stamina and Mana. Grants faster digestion and enhanced wound recovery.]


    [Unlocks Dark Affinity.]


    [Unlocks Mana Core: Basic Monster Core ¨C Enables internal mana storage and channeling for abilities or mana-converting organs.]


    [Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    Blimey! I always knew the base Hungerborn was a bit of a beast, but this upgrade? It went and supercharged the whole thing, didn¡¯t it? Not only did it boost the original power, but it gave me even more ways to gobble things up at lightning speed. But main part was¡ªit wasn¡¯t just health and stamina being doled out anymore, but mana as well.


    What¡¯s more, it seemed I could chow down on all sorts, including plants. Yes, plants! And somehow, they¡¯d all get turned into resources. I was finally starting to see the pattern in these hunger-based abilities. They weren¡¯t about flashy attacks or raw destruction, oh no. It was all about sustenance. Devouring. And I¡¯ll be honest, it put the wind up me a bit. I still couldn¡¯t shake the memory of that gnawing hunger when I first woke up as a Hungerborn hatchling. Or that wild lapse when I got stuck into those Valar Rats.


    What if I ever found myself unable to eat for a while? I¡¯d be a right mess. And this constant feeling of never being fully satisfied? Yeah, that was no picnic either.


    But this ability tried to soothe that by giving me all sorts of new things to feast on. Plants, for instance. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder¡ªif I kept on this path, would I eventually be able to munch on the very earth itself?


    ¡­Now that I thought about it, it seemed eerily possible. This hunger path was truly a bit terrifying. I snapped the book shut. As powerful as it was, it wasn¡¯t offering me any fancy new mana veins or anything of the sort. So, it wasn¡¯t the one I¡¯d be choosing today.


    Still, a bloody strong evolution, no doubt about it. Which only made me more curious about what lay hidden in these gold-rarity tomes.


    I reached for the next one, and the title made my pulse race.


    Manaweaver Hatchling.


    I flipped it open in a heartbeat. Smaller than I was now, perhaps. Luminescent skin under the scales, glowing lines etched across its form, especially on its translucent wings. And bright, piercing blue eyes with slits.


    [Description: Evolution enhances mana control and refines spellcasting capabilities.]


    [Stat Bonuses: +4 Intelligence, +4 Will per level until next evolution.]


    [New Organ: Mana Vein Cluster ¨C Secondary vein network intertwined with blood vessels, increasing mana flow for finer manipulation.]


    [Unlocks Mana Core: Basic Monster Core ¨C Enables internal mana storage and channeling for abilities or mana-converting organs.]


    [Evolution Exclusive Ability: Mana Surge ¨C Increases mana regeneration rate temporarily when mana points drop below 10% of maximum capacity.]


    [Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    As I read, my hands began to tremble. It was finally here. Finally. The key to magic, the very thing that had danced out of reach for so long. The magic that taunted me, slipping just beyond my grasp, teasing me every day. The same magic that made me loathe myself for being born without it.


    The same magic... that I took by force.


    A grin crept across my face. No more running, you slippery little bastard. You rejected me once, but look who''s found a way back. Oh, the satisfaction. The delicious, vindictive thrill. My skin prickled, waves of goosebumps rolling over me. This feeling¡­


    It wasn¡¯t just triumph, it was something more. This raw, untamed vindication. That sweet, bittersweet cocktail of rage, hunger, and satisfaction. Magic had been this unattainable, glittering prize, and now? Now I could taste it, feel it. The thing I craved, needed, deserved. I¡¯d carved my path back to it.


    My breath hitched, and for a moment, I was lost in the frenzy of it all.


    But before I committed, I glanced over. There were two more books on the shelf. I wasn¡¯t quite done yet. With some effort, I tore myself away from the Manaweaver and reached for the next one.


    Ashenflame


    I raised an eyebrow. Another Fire-based evolution? Curious, I flipped the page. Grey scales, smoke swirling ominously around them¡­ and those eyes, flaming red, like they¡¯d burn through one¡¯s very essence. It looked intimidating¡ªperhaps even more so than the Flame Ravager.


    Flipped the page and the description revealed itself.


    [Description: Rare evolution fusing fire affinity with refined mana manipulation.]


    [Stat Bonuses: +3 Intelligence, +1 Durability, +1 Strength, +3 Will per level until next evolution.]


    [New Organ: Inferno Circulatory System ¨C Fire mana infuses the circulatory system, enhancing blood and mana flow, providing resistance to fire attacks, and allowing finer fire mana manipulation.]


    [Evolution Exclusive Ability: Ashen Surge ¨C Supercharges fire-based attacks with fire mana, delivering more powerful effects, scorching targets, and overloading defenses.]


    [Unlocks Fire Affinity.]


    [Unlocks Mana Core: Basic Monster Core ¨C Enables internal mana storage and channeling for abilities or mana-converting organs.]


    [Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    I exhaled slowly, my breath a touch ragged. The more I read, the more this evolution seemed like a perfect blend of fire affinity and the mana refinement. Essentially, it focused entirely on the art of manipulating fire mana, making it exceptionally potent in that single element. Not only would it boost my resistance to fire, but it would grant me an incredibly fine control over fire magic.


    If I went down this path, wouldn''t it make any fire-based magic a breeze? I could practically see myself walking down a fire magic based path, Path of Flame Knight perhaps, commanding infernos like they were an extension of my own body.


    But¡­ something didn¡¯t sit right. The idea of restricting myself to just one affinity¡ªit gnawed at me. As potent as this Inferno Circulatory System was, it seemed to lock me into fire mana, and only fire mana. I frowned. Surely that would limit me, right? I wasn¡¯t exactly looking to become a one-trick pony.


    I quickly threw the question to my doppelg?nger, and she confirmed my suspicions.


    Well, that settled it. As tempting as it was, this wasn¡¯t the path for me. Not today.


    Only one book remained. I picked it up, and my eyes widened as I read the cover.


    Voracious Manaweaver.

 Chapter 48: Voracious Manaweaver!

    Voracious Manaweaver.


    A sleek, shadowy figure, poised with the grace of a predator. Scales shimmered with an eerie smoothness. Veins of mana faintly glowing, pulsing, along my limbs and neck. My neck had stretched ever so slightly, my features now sharper, more refined¡ªdare I say, elegant. Yet the jaw¡ªoh, the jaw¡ªstill extended to my throat, a creature both elegant and nightmarish, beauty wrapped in terror.


    I flipped the page.


    [Description: Evolution centered on absorbing and refining mana. Enhances both fine-tuned mana control and the ability to consume mana-infused material, significantly boosting magical capacity.]


    [Stat Bonuses: +2 Intelligence, +2 Will, +2 Durability, +2 Strength per level until next evolution.]


    [New Organ: Mana Conduit Vasculature ¨C A highly intricate network of mana-conducting veins spread throughout the body, allowing for extremely fine control over mana manipulation and greatly increasing efficiency.]


    [Ability: Mana Devourer ¨C User can consume mana-based objects, creatures, or energy sources to permanently enhance internal mana reserves, capped by current form limitations.]


    [Unlocks Mana Core: Basic Monster Core ¨C Enables internal mana storage and channeling for abilities or mana-converting organs.]


    [Unlocks one affinity of choice.]


    [Skills: Available for acquisition.]


    I stared at the book, slack-jawed, when my doppelg?nger let out a mad cackle behind me. Of course. What on earth was this tome doing in the Golden Section? The effects far outstripped anything else on this shelf.


    An affinity of my own choosing? The ability to devour mana-laden substances? And the best bit¡ªno ¡®evolution exclusive¡¯ nonsense. This ability was here to stay, not just a temporary gift to be whisked away with my next transformation.


    The sheer lunacy of it all! To be able to permanently expand my mana reserves? Permanently! Absolutely bonkers. Oh, sure, the book said it was limited by my current form, but still¡ªutterly ridiculous. Powerful beyond belief.


    Well, decision made, wasn¡¯t it? Not only would I get mana veins, but I¡¯d also keep a dash of my ravenous side. The macro-trophic sac would remain with me, even if Endless Hunger wouldn¡¯t. More than enough for me.


    With a sharp snap, I closed the book and clutched it to my chest, shooting a glance at my doppelg?nger.


    "Guessed again, have you?" I pulled a face, eyebrows raised in exasperation. Honestly, it wasn¡¯t much of a conundrum¡ªshe was me, after all. Likely had a good mental rummage through these very pages herself.


    She nodded, smug as a cat who¡¯d licked the cream. No surprises there. Of course she knew. And the way she was casually twiddling with those vials told me she was already elbow-deep in concocting that potion.


    ¡°But how, exactly, did I manage this... evolution?¡±


    ¡°Oh, come now. You already know. Hunger wears many hats, doesn¡¯t it? Yet it always, somehow, signifies that endless craving. This time, your insatiable thirst for magic nudged you down this path.¡±


    ¡°How does that even¡ª¡± My question was promptly interrupted by her burst of laughter. Cheeky cow!


    ¡°Kidding! Your last little ¡®growth spurt¡¯ came from devouring all those valar rats. The system probably thought, ''Blimey, that¡¯s quite the feat!'' and kindly presented you with this shiny new option.¡±


    Well, that was more believable. If feelings alone could whip up evolutions, I¡¯d have been sporting mana veins during my very first evolution, given how desperately I crave the stuff. Still, couldn¡¯t help but feel a little bouncy, all things considered.


    ¡­


    Even if my doppelg?nger¡¯s insufferable smirk as she deliberately mixed those ingredients was really grinding my gears.


    I squinted at her, a sly grin tugging at the corners of my lips. ¡°You are infuriatingly smug, you know that?¡±


    She raised an eyebrow, the picture of false innocence. ¡°Me? Smug? Heaven forbid. I¡¯m merely basking in the warmth of being right¡ªagain.¡±


    I rolled my eyes but couldn¡¯t stifle the chuckle that bubbled up. ¡°It¡¯s hardly impressive when, well, you¡¯re me and it¡¯s a foregone conclusion you already know the answer.¡±


    She shrugged, swirling the liquid in a vial with exaggerated nonchalance. ¡°Knowledge is power, silly. Though I must say, I was almost convinced you¡¯d set your heart on Ashenflame. Thought you fancied yourself a bonfire, did you?¡±


    Ashenflame? Oh, not bloody likely!


    ¡°Oh, please,¡± I scoffed, puffing up indignantly. ¡°As if I¡¯d settle for being a glorified matchstick. I¡¯ve got standards. Picture this: a proper, elegant dragon with impeccable taste. Hmm... You reckon I¡¯ll be able to commission gowns for my dragon form in the future?¡±


    She cackled, setting the vial down and folding her arms. ¡°Oh, ¡®class¡¯, is it? As if gnawing on mana-soaked rocks and energy sources is the pinnacle of sophistication. Truly, a fine display of high society.¡±


    ¡°Oi, don¡¯t knock it ''til you¡¯ve given it a go,¡± I fired back with a grin. ¡°Besides, I¡¯d keep myself in tip-top condition¡ªteeth polished, scales gleaming. Stealth already makes me quite the graceful creature!¡±


    She leaned in, ¡°And here I thought you preferred things a bit on the messy side. What was it you said when you tore through those Valar Rats? I¡¯m certain you wouldn¡¯t have cleaned yourself since that little escapade¡­¡±


    I smirked, shaking my head. ¡°One time.¡± Then, visions of that spider encounter and those bug-monsters flashed in my mind. ¡°Alright, maybe a few more. But in my defence, I haven¡¯t exactly had the time¡ªor the luxury¡ªfor a proper scrub down.¡±


    Honestly, I hated mess. Always had. Even now, the thought of being a grimy dragon, sticky sap still clinging to me, sent shivers down my spine. I was a walking disaster. I probably had enough muck under my claws and scales to plant a bloody garden.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Oh, I really should¡¯ve asked Barn for a deep clean before he left...


    ¡°Anyway, enough of that. Just pick one of these.¡±


    I blinked, eyeing the colourful array of tubes she¡¯d suddenly produced from nowhere. Reds, blues, greens, yellows¡ªshe had the whole rainbow lined up. Twelve of them, to be exact.


    ¡°What are they?¡± I asked, counting them up.


    ¡°Forgot already? Your affinities.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, right! The choice!¡± I clapped my hands together, before a frown crept across my face. ¡°But why twelve? I thought there were only ten affinities¡­ Or are there advanced ones in the mix?¡±


    She shook her head, lips quirking. ¡°Nope. All of these are base affinities.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve... never come across anything beyond the usual ten.¡±


    Fire, water, earth, air, lightning, nature, ice, metal, light, and dark.


    Those were the only ones they¡¯d ever drilled into us. Sure, there were advanced versions¡ªlike Fire¡¯s advanced form, Inferno. And there were some fancy combinations too, like Fire and Earth forming a Magma affinity. Though combinations were quite rare, what with multiple affinities being rather uncommon. They existed, of course, even triple affinities. That vile bitch Elise was a dual affinity mage, and the very thought of her left a bitter taste in my mouth.


    But one day¡ªone day¡ªI¡¯d have my revenge on her.


    Bah!


    ¡°What are these other affinities, then? New base ones I¡¯ve never heard of? Some thrilling new discovery? NEW MAGIC?!¡±


    She grinned. ¡°Better than me telling you¡ªwhy not see for yourself?¡± And, as if by magic, a parchment appeared in her hand and she passed it to me.


    Fire


    Water


    Earth


    Air


    Lightning


    Nature


    Ice


    Metal


    Light


    Dark


    Chaos


    Spirit


    The affinities lay before me in a neat little row, and just a glance was enough to confirm it. Two new ones, staring me right in the face.


    Spirit... and Chaos?


    "Chaos is an affinity too?" I muttered, incredulous.


    "Indeed," she replied. "Though I wouldn''t recommend it, unless you''ve got an organ to convert mana into Chaos. The natural conversion of mana to Chaos mana? Doesn¡¯t exist. No matter how strong your affinity is. Same goes for Spirit.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. Barn ran on Chaos, didn¡¯t he? So it was just another form of mana, then. Strange. For every other affinity, having just the affinity meant you could convert ambient mana straight into your preferred flavour¡ªfire mages could pull it from their cores and turn it to fire mana, no faffing about with external matrix fiddling. But Chaos? Spirit? Apparently not so simple.


    It seemed both would be useless to me if I couldn¡¯t naturally convert ambient mana into them. What¡¯s the point in that? Unless I found a place teeming with those specific mana types, I¡¯d be as good as a fish out of water. And the only place I knew Chaos existed was the bloody Netherworld.


    Lovely.


    Wait¡­ ¡°If Chaos mana only exists in the Netherworld, what about Spirit mana? Does that come from some other realm governed by Parda too?¡±


    She shrugged, nonchalant as ever. ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t know. I only deal with things related to you and your dragon biology, nothing beyond that.¡±


    Fair enough. Made sense, considering the system had made her that way. Still, my eyes drifted back to the parchment. ¡°At least tell me their strengths and weaknesses. You know, like how Fire¡¯s weak to Water and Earth, but Water is strong against Fire and Earth.¡±


    Her eyes lit up. ¡°Oh! You want a strengths and weaknesses chart?¡±


    ¡°YES!¡± I exclaimed.


    "That I can do." She snatched the parchment from my hands and, with a flourish, pulled a pen out of thin air and began scribbling. Moments later, she proudly presented her work to me.


    <table>


    <thead>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Element


    </td>


    <td>


    Strong Against


    </td>


    <td>


    Weak Against


    </td>


    </tr>


    </thead>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Fire


    </td>


    <td>


    Nature, Ice


    </td>


    <td>


    Water, Earth


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Water


    </td>


    <td>


    Fire, Earth


    </td>


    <td>


    Lightning, Ice


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Earth


    </td>


    <td>


    Fire, Lightning


    </td>


    <td>


    Water, Air


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Air


    </td>


    <td>


    Earth, Metal


    </td>


    <td>


    Ice, Lightning


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Lightning


    </td>


    <td>


    Water, Air


    </td>


    <td>


    Earth, Metal


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Nature


    </td>


    <td>


    Water, Earth


    </td>


    <td>


    Fire, Ice


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Ice


    </td>


    <td>


    Air, Nature


    </td>


    <td>


    Fire, Lightning


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Metal


    </td>


    <td>


    Lightning, Earth


    </td>


    <td>


    Nature, Fire


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Light


    </td>


    <td>


    Dark


    </td>


    <td>


    Chaos, Nature


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Dark


    </td>


    <td>


    Light


    </td>


    <td>


    Fire, Lightning


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Chaos


    </td>


    <td>


    Metal


    </td>


    <td>


    Light


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Spirit


    </td>


    <td>


    Lightning


    </td>


    <td>


    Dark


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Ah, I knew the base ones well enough, so my eyes skipped straight to the bottom. Ah-ha! Chaos didn¡¯t play nice with Light, and Spirit had a bone to pick with Dark. Still, I had no clue how they actually worked or what sort of spells I could fling about with them.


    Barn had some sort of disintegration magic, but I wasn¡¯t about to assume I¡¯d get anything similar. Anyway, it seemed I¡¯d have to choose from the ten affinities I knew. Chaos and Spirit weren¡¯t exactly calling to me, although, there was a niggling thought ¨C what if, one day, I could craft some fancy mana-to-Chaos or Spirit conversion organ? A whole new school of magic, entirely by me! The mere thought sent a delightful shudder through my bones. Ah, well, that¡¯s a future worry. If it ever comes about.


    Still, curiosity got the better of me. ¡°Do advanced versions of these exist? Or mixed versions, like Chaos and Spirit thrown in with other elements?¡±


    She gave a half-hearted shrug. ¡°Probably, but I haven¡¯t the foggiest. Maybe when you get to that level, the system will give me the lowdown too.¡±


    Fair enough.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s it going to be?¡± she asked, gesturing towards the glass tubes once more.


    Time to think. There was only one magic path I really knew¡ªWinter Salamander¡¯s path. Light magic. Illusions. And even that, I¡¯d only had a nibble at, just the basics. Every affinity had its strengths and weaknesses, no real downside to picking one over another.


    But there was always one path that had captivated me. One so elusive, so out of reach, that I hadn¡¯t even dared dream of ever using it. The affinity of energy and speed, the most unruly, rarest of them all.


    Lightning.


    I grabbed the vial that shimmered with a violet hue. My doppelg?nger grinned, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Before I could blink, she snatched it from my hand and gleefully dunked it into the beaker. The solution bubbled furiously, changing from pure white to a deep, electric purple. Once again, it toyed with my vision ¨C claws, slitted eyes, flickering and vanishing in the liquid. She stopped swirling, but the potion never did, buzzing with a restless energy.


    She handed me the beaker.


    But just as I was about to take it, my gaze wandered back to those rainbow-coloured tomes.


    ¡°You can have a look, if you fancy,¡± my doppelg?nger said, nonchalantly.


    I shook my head, a wry smile tugging at my lips. ¡°If the potion¡¯s ready, those books are nothing more than a tease. No sense torturing myself, knowing I won¡¯t be getting my claws on what¡¯s inside. Just spill the beans ¨C I¡¯d rather not sully my mood leafing through them, all the while wishing for the unattainable.¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°If you insist. All four are about sun or light, more or less. First two are pretty much identical as the last time ¨C bit of a stat boost, with an extra organ thrown in for good measure. The last pair... well, I suspect they were a result of your, ah, voracious appetite.¡±


    Oh, I could already picture all the ways it could be gloriously overpowered. Part of me itched to dive into those tomes, but¡­ not today. So, I tore my eyes away, grinned cheekily at my double, and lunged forward, scooping her up into an unceremonious hug.


    She yelped, surprised, before relaxing into it with a smile, squeezing me back.


    ¡°Looks like it¡¯ll be a while before I see you again,¡± I murmured, a strange numbness creeping over me. It hadn¡¯t been long, but there was this bizarre bond between us ¨C something familiar and oddly comforting about her presence, like this place was wrapping itself around my memories.


    ¡°You know,¡± she whispered conspiratorially, ¡°time flows differently outside. You could stay a bit longer, if you like.¡±


    We pulled apart, and with a mischievous grin, she grabbed a few extra vials off the shelf, waiting for my response.


    I glanced at the beaker, my evolution potion for a moment, before meeting her grin with one of my own.


    ¡°What sort of experiment are we cooking up, then?¡±


    ¡°Fischer esterification?¡±


    A lovely ester with a fruity smell? Hell yeah!

 Interlude 2.1: Cedric

    Randall had been a hive of activity for the past few days. Cedric glanced out of the window from where he was seated in Randall¡¯s usually quiet local library. The place, typically abandoned, was now anything but. From the early morning, throngs upon throngs of inquisitors had been filing in.


    ¡°Hmm¡­ Is that the Aegis of Ferin? Aren¡¯t those reserved for the higher-ranking inquisitors?¡± Giles remarked, standing beside him.


    Cedric followed his gaze, spotting them too. Their white robes, familiar enough, but the armour? Now that was something special. Gleaming, Orichalcum-plated chestpieces, adorned with runes so intricate that Cedric had only ever seen their like crafted by experts in the Grey Tower. The armour shimmered faintly in the morning light.


    ¡°Looks like the cavalry¡¯s arrived,¡± Cedric mused. ¡°You reckon they¡¯ve uncovered something?¡±


    ¡°Well, obviously,¡± Giles replied, tone dripping with sarcasm. ¡°They¡¯ve got the top-tier divination mages on their side. Bound to have sniffed something out. And judging by all this fuss, I¡¯d say you were spot on. Someone¡¯s definitely summoned a NetherBeast.¡±


    ¡°Oh Giles, by Thalador¡¯s plumpest p¡ª¡±


    ¡°CEDRIC!¡±


    ¡°Tsk. Don¡¯t tell me you lot were still doubting me?¡± Cedric groaned.


    ¡°Well, the claim was so utterly outrageous. Can¡¯t really blame us, can you?¡± Giles shrugged. ¡°But hey, credit where it¡¯s due. You were right. And I suppose you¡¯ll be insufferable about it for the foreseeable future, won¡¯t you?¡±


    Oh, that he would. Cedric grinned, barely glancing up from the book in his hands. Giles, unable to resist his curiosity, sidled up to the chair Cedric was perched on and craned his neck to peer into the pages.


    ¡°Two days, and that thing hasn¡¯t left your grip. What¡¯s caught your eye?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not what I¡¯ve found, it¡¯s what I have to find. Master¡¯s on her way, and she¡¯s got this infuriating knack for catching you off guard with questions. No way am I getting caught out this time.¡±


    NetherBeasts weren¡¯t exactly easy to research, so Cedric had been pleasantly surprised to find anything useful in the dusty old stacks of Randall¡¯s library. His eyes flicked towards the librarian, a wiry fellow at the counter, leisurely sipping his tea. Jord, if he remembered correctly, though names had never been Cedric¡¯s strong suit. There was something a bit... off about him. The way he¡¯d gotten all flustered when they showed up yesterday, though he¡¯d been perfectly polite. Perhaps a bit too polite. But Cedric shook his head. Probably overthinking it.


    ¡°Ah yes, speaking of that,¡± Giles muttered, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, ¡°did you really have to drag THE Nightmare into this? What were you even thinking?¡±


    Cedric shot him a baffled look. ¡°I didn¡¯t ¡®invite¡¯ her. She¡¯s the head of the Grey Tower and probably the only person who knows anything about this forbidden Parda business. And I did run it by you lot before I contacted her, remember?¡±


    ¡°You said you¡¯d reach out to your teacher!¡±


    ¡°She is my teacher, you dolt!¡± Honestly, this guy.


    ¡°You could¡¯ve asked someone else. A... I don¡¯t know, someone less terrifying than a gold-ranked mage, maybe?¡±


    Cedric sighed. So that was it¡ªGiles was intimidated by her Gold Rank. Well, he couldn¡¯t blame him. The Nightmare did have a reputation, but she was his teacher, for Thalador¡¯s sake! ¡°Look, I never asked her to come here. I just wanted to know if we could help somehow, if a NetherBeast was really on the loose. How was I supposed to know she¡¯d drop everything and rush over at the mere mention?¡±


    Giles plopped into a chair beside him with a resigned sigh. ¡°Well, what¡¯s done is done. Every Gold Rank I¡¯ve ever met is a few spells short of a full tome. But since she¡¯s coming, and since you¡¯ve got an in, mind passing along some of what you¡¯ve dug up? I wouldn¡¯t¡­ umm¡­ mind making a decent first impression on the illustrious Nightmare, you know.¡±


    Cedric chuckled. ¡°Lucky for you, these three books do have a few juicy details.¡±


    Giles leaned in, eager. Cedric began, "Right, so, first off, what I¡¯ve found are just records of NetherBeast invasions. One of the towns near Gallowsmere, down south, was hit by a beast called The Parasite. The author also referred to it as Vermalith, though who knows where that name came from. Seems every NetherBeast is a species unto itself¡ªso Vermalith might¡¯ve been its type.


    "Now, what¡¯s truly unsettling is that each NetherBeast operates on this fundamental craving, which twists reality around it. The Parasite had a¡­ hunger for human flesh. It started with one person, this thing taking over their body, and before long, entire villages were consumed. But¡ª" Cedric paused, taking a breath, realising how much more horrifying this was to recount aloud¡ª"But no one really died. Not properly. They became part of the beast¡ªthis grotesque, pulsing mass of sinew, tendrils, bone, and flesh. It didn¡¯t just consume its victims, it absorbed them into itself. You¡¯d see faces and limbs writhing beneath its semi-translucent skin. It was nightmarish. The author was amongst those hiding. He wrote about entire streets of writhing flesh and screaming faces."


    Giles visibly paled. "That¡¯s what we¡¯re up against?"


    "We¡­ don¡¯t know. That¡¯s the problem. Trust me, Giles, it¡¯s worrying. Every time a NetherBeast appears, it goes on a spree to satisfy its craving. And each one is different. Every record I¡¯ve found describes a unique desire. And, here¡¯s the thing: every NetherBeast that invaded is at least as powerful as a Gold-Rank mage. If they¡¯re left unchecked, they grow even stronger. That¡¯s why the Inquisition is moving so fast."


    Giles swallowed hard. "Brilliant. Just¡­ brilliant."


    "Exactly my point. There''s been no sign of any attack¡ªno chaos, no destruction, nothing. NetherBeasts leave a trail of devastation, both physical and magical. They practically run on the stuff. For a moment, I thought maybe I was wrong, that no one had breached the Parda. And the more I read, the more I doubted myself. But the Inquisition¡¯s reaction? It can only mean they¡¯ve found something, some sort of evidence that a NetherBeast is actually here. Honestly, I don¡¯t know what to think anymore."


    A moment of silence fell between them, Giles gnawing nervously on his thumb. Cedric knew him too well¡ªGiles was a coward, always had been. No matter how much he tried to hide it, Cedric could see through him. He never took the risky missions, always second-guessing himself. It was obvious to anyone with a brain cell. Well, except Beatrice, of course. She idolised Giles for some reason.


    The door creaked open, and in shuffled Beatrice and Lavinia. Beatrice, the shortest in the group, was all energy, jumping at three places at once, wide eyes always darting about like she¡¯d miss something if she blinked. Lavinia, on the other hand, was tall and built like a statue. Not just in appearance of sharp-eyed and unamused, but as practical as a warhammer too.


    They¡¯d gone out to grab something to eat while Giles and Cedric hit the library, Cedric diving into his research on NetherBeasts. But the moment Lavinia stepped through the door, her face contorted in a mix of confusion and disdain.


    "Cedric... what the fuck are you wearing?" she asked, her voice dripping with incredulity.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Cedric blinked, momentarily confused. He glanced down as if only just realising what adorned his legs. ¡°Oh, this?¡± He gave a dramatic swirl, the skirt flaring slightly. ¡°It¡¯s Beatrice¡¯s. Thought it¡¯d be a bit more¡­ breezy for the morning, you know? Gets a bit stuffy in those trousers.¡±


    Lavinia pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°And your grand solution was to nick Beatrice¡¯s skirt?¡±


    Cedric¡¯s gaze flicked to Beatrice, who was beaming like she¡¯d just invented the wheel. ¡°I told him it¡¯d suit him. Plus, the airflow is unbeatable, right, Ced?¡±


    Cedric nodded, full of conviction. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s marvellous.¡±


    Beatrice turned to Lavinia, her tone as earnest as a zealot preaching a new religion. ¡°More men ought to try it, really.¡±


    Cedric grinned, crossing his legs theatrically. ¡°I¡¯ve never felt so liberated. Honestly, it¡¯s like a revelation.¡± And the breeze... oh, the glorious breeze.


    Lavinia looked perilously close to throttling someone. ¡°You lot are utterly insane.¡±


    Giles, ever the picture of apathy, merely shrugged, barely glancing up from the book he was thumbing through. How long had he even had that? ¡°Not the first time. I¡¯ve learned when to surrender.¡±


    Beatrice giggled, enjoying this far more than was reasonable. ¡°Lavinia, you¡¯re just sour you didn¡¯t think of it first. Practical, stylish, and Cedric looks rather fetching, doesn¡¯t he?¡±


    Lavinia¡¯s eyes narrowed into slits. ¡°Fetching is... not the word I¡¯d choose.¡±


    Well, that was a new one. Cedric leaned forward, fully committing to the tease. ¡°Oh? What word, then? Dashing? Impeccable? A sartorial vision?¡± He batted his eyelashes dramatically for added effect, but Lavinia¡¯s expression remained as deadpan as a brick wall.


    ¡°Idiotic,¡± she replied flatly.


    ¡°Comfortable idiocy is still comfort,¡± Cedric said, crossing his legs with an exaggerated flourish. Didn¡¯t matter what they thought, his thighs had never been happier.


    ¡°One of these days, I¡¯ll find you parading around in a full ball gown, won¡¯t I?¡± Lavinia muttered, more to herself than anyone.


    Cedric raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are ball gowns comfortable?¡±


    Beatrice, chin in hand, gave it some thought. ¡°Not really¡­ but they do look smashing!¡±


    Cedric winked. ¡°Let me borrow one sometime. I¡¯ll give it a whirl.¡±


    Beatrice clapped her hands, practically vibrating with excitement. ¡°Oh, Ced! I¡¯ve got the perfect gown for you! We¡¯ll make a whole event of it. Lavinia, you simply must join in.¡±


    Lavinia groaned. ¡°Please, Thalador, no.¡±


    Giles finally looked up, sighing. ¡°Can we focus on the looming apocalypse before we start planning Cedric¡¯s debutante ball?¡±


    With a shrug, Cedric snatched the book from Giles¡¯ hands. ¡°Right, right. NetherBeast first. Frocks later.¡±


    He wasted no time grilling everyone on the horrors he¡¯d uncovered. NetherBeasts, those vile things, driven by cravings that made them stronger, more dangerous. As Cedric rattled off the details, he watched their faces morph into varying shades of terror. Not that he blamed them; every story was more grotesque than the last. The main part? The so-called ¡°survivor¡± who¡¯d left the warning records during this Parasite record¡­ well, he didn¡¯t survive in the end. His last words were scrawled just before the beast dragged him to join its ever-growing body.


    But one thing niggled at Cedric: not a single NetherBeast overstayed its welcome here. Like a pattern was there. They all vanished after a month, like there was some unseen timer ticking down. Perhaps the land itself expelled them, or maybe they were forced out when stronger warriors got involved. Anything below a gold-ranked fighter was a sitting duck, but those with enough knowledge stood a chance. Unfortunately, that wasn¡¯t their situation. They didn¡¯t know what the bloody hell they were up against. And this particular NetherBeast hadn¡¯t gone mad with hunger yet, which meant one of two things: either it had retreated, or¡ªworse¡ªit was a new breed, quietly laying waste to the town while no one even noticed.


    The thought sent a cold jolt through his veins, but Cedric forced himself to stay calm.


    They ate their breakfast in silence, the quiet only broken by the occasional scrape of cutlery. The library was deserted, save for that oddball librarian, Jern¡ªor was it Jared? Honestly, Cedric could never quite get the name right.


    Time dragged on, every creak of the building making him twitch, until finally, the library door groaned open, and the bell above gave a half-hearted jingle.


    A woman entered. Tall, perhaps too tall. Raven-haired, draped in a blood-red gown that screamed elegance. Cedric wasn¡¯t one to be easily impressed, but she had that sort of presence that made you sit up straighter, as if you¡¯d suddenly remembered how to be dignified. Her piercing blue eyes locked onto him, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She carried a cane¡ªthough Cedric knew it was no ordinary cane. A Soul Weapon. Only Gold-ranked warriors had those, and hers? A whip.


    Cedric¡¯s spoon hit the floor with an undignified clatter as he sprang to his feet, bowing so low he thought his nose might meet the dust. ¡°This pupil greets the Master.¡±


    Before Cedric could so much as process the words, the woman had him by the armpits, hoisting him off the ground as though he weighed no more than a feather duster. ¡°Oh, my precious pupil,¡± she cooed, eyes sparkling with amusement, ¡°what on earth are you wearing? Some sort of statement, is it?¡± She gave him a little shake, clearly expecting him to rattle like a loose coin. ¡°I¡¯ll admit, though, the leg freedom? Admirable. Bold move.¡±


    Dangling in her iron grip, Cedric grimaced inwardly. Gold ranks, honestly. You just had to go along with whatever they were doing¡ªhe¡¯d learned that much in Grey Tower. Especially when it came to ¡®The Nightmare¡¯ herself, Gweneth Draycotte. He managed a sheepish grin. ¡°It¡¯s Beatrice¡¯s, actually. And, yeah, never realised how liberating it could be. I should buy my own!¡±


    Gweneth chuckled, setting him down with the same unsettling gentleness she always applied, like she could snap you in half at any moment but found the whole thing too amusing to bother. ¡°If you¡¯re going to loot her wardrobe, at least have the sense to steal something with pockets. What¡¯s the point otherwise?¡±


    Of course. Pockets. The woman was obsessed. Cedric offered a weak nod. ¡°Next time, Master. I¡¯ll prioritise the pockets.¡±


    ¡°Ah, The Final Days of Gallowsmere,¡± came another voice behind him. Cedric whirled, eyes wide. Gweneth was already there, rifling through the pages of the book he¡¯d been reading earlier. He spun back¡ªanother Gweneth still stood before him, smirking. Right. Gold rank magic. No incantations, no fancy matrices¡ªjust pure, terrifying instinct.


    The Gweneth behind him made a soft noise as she flipped another page. ¡°Quite the heavy read, Cedric. Although this edition¡¯s been butchered by so many editors, the original horror¡ªa dying man¡¯s final words scribbled in madness¡ªwas lost in the process. A real shame. If you¡¯d asked earlier, I could¡¯ve bought the original manuscript for you.¡±


    Cedric, still mildly disoriented, glanced over at her. By now, everyone around the table had the colour drained from their faces, except Beatrice, who was practically vibrating with excitement. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she turned to Master. ¡°What kinda magic didja use?!?¡± she asked, her voice a little too loud, while Giles'' face somehow managed to pale even more. The poor bloke needed to learn how to breathe.


    Master, of course, didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°Ah, that would be a variant of Tachyonic Quantum Duplicity Conflux. A fascinating bit of temporal displacement, splits the user into parallel states, allowing each version to operate autonomously while maintaining full awareness across all iterations. Naturally, it requires a fifth-dimensional anchor to avoid the usual time-space feedback loop.¡± She smiled, entirely too pleased with herself.


    Beatrice nodded as if she understood every word, though her furrowed brow betrayed otherwise. Meanwhile, Giles looked like he might pass out.


    At the same time, another version of Master had taken a seat at the table, where the group¡¯s breakfast remained largely untouched. Without an ounce of dignity, she leaned over and scooped up a spoonful of the grey, congealed porridge¡ªa mix of oats and questionable ingredients that barely qualified as food¡ªand popped it into her mouth. She chewed with a level of focus Cedric usually reserved for life-or-death decisions.


    ¡°Hmm. Porridge,¡± she said, her voice filled with disdain. ¡°Thick, bland... an absolutely appalling texture.¡± She swallowed with visible effort. ¡°Honestly, Cedric, I¡¯m impressed you manage to choke this down. They say adventurers have the palate of a goat, and I¡¯m starting to think that¡¯s not an exaggeration.¡±


    Beatrice spluttered, indignant. ¡°Hey! I happen to like that porridge. It¡¯s hearty!¡±


    ¡°And tragic,¡± Master quipped, nudging the bowl with the tip of her finger.


    Before Cedric could even attempt to process the fact that there were now three versions of his Master, each going about wildly different tasks, a sharp shriek echoed from behind him.


    The latest Master had drifted over to the counter, where the unfortunate librarian¡ªJern? Jared? Cedric still wasn¡¯t sure¡ªhad been quietly minding his own business. But the moment she materialised in front of him, he let out a loud, panicked yelp and toppled backwards from his chair, crashing into a stack of precariously balanced books.


    ¡°Miss¡ªMadam¡ªMa¡¯am¡ª¡± he stammered, stumbling over his words as well as the books. His face had gone the colour of chalk.


    This version of Master gave him a slow, appraising look, her lips curling into a sly smirk. ¡°Hah¡­ I smell something,¡± she murmured, eyes narrowing. She tapped the counter lightly, raised her nose, and sniffed the air again. ¡°My, my¡­¡±


    Her hand darted under the counter with surprising precision, and when it re-emerged, she was holding a hefty tome. Every version of her across the room snapped their heads towards the librarian in perfect synchrony, eyes gleaming with predatory interest.


    ¡°No wonder it smelled like Elven dogs in here,¡± she said, holding the book aloft as the shadows on the walls seemed to writhe and shiver, the air around them growing suddenly cold.


    All three versions of her spoke in eerie unison, voices layered in perfect harmony.


    ¡°Care to explain,¡± they intoned, ¡°what this Cursed Elven Artefact is doing here?¡±

 Interlude 2.2: Cedric

    Cedric¡¯s eyes nearly popped out of his skull when Master mentioned a cursed artefact¡ªan Elven cursed artefact no less¡ªsitting right here in this dusty, unassuming corner of a deserted library. Bloody hell. Maybe he had been right to feel something was off about that man from the moment they walked in.


    The [Path of White Raven] he walked was an unusual one. It operated on both Light and Dark affinities, a rare combination he was born with, allowing him to progress quickly along the path. He was already at mid-yellow core, and when he reached red stage, his affinities would merge into Space Affinity, a far more advanced and potent concept. Even now, though he hadn¡¯t yet reached the red core, he could already sense traces of Space Affinity stirring within him¡ªhe could perceive signatures people left in his spatial awareness, like faint echoes.


    Granted, it wasn¡¯t clear yet¡ªmore like shadows than solid impressions¡ªbut it was enough to make him feel something was amiss. At times, he chalked it up to stress, thinking he was simply imagining things. But far too often, his instincts had proven right. And this was one of those times. That librarian was definitely hiding something.


    ¡°I¡ªI can explain!¡± The man¡¯s voice cracked as he stammered, hands flailing as though he could physically wave away the intense, collective scrutiny of Master¡¯s clones. ¡°A¡ªa friend gave it to me! Yes! For¡­ my collection, you see!¡± His words tumbled out in a desperate rush. ¡°I collect rare items¡ªexquisite books and... trinkets. It was a gift! I swear! Paid a hefty price for it, too!¡±


    Cedric squinted at him. One of the things he¡¯d always been able to do¡ªeven before his affinities began merging¡ªwas detect when someone was lying. It wasn¡¯t just about reading their faces or their tone of voice; it was something deeper, something almost instinctual. A gut feeling that gnawed at him. His team knew it well enough by now. No one dared lie to him. He could always tell when Giles was putting on a brave face, or when Lavinia¡¯s stoic exterior was hiding nerves. And Beatrice? She didn¡¯t even bother with fa?ades¡ªwhat she thought, she said, with all the tact of a loose cannon.


    But this man? Cedric could tell immediately. The first part of his story? True. Why would an old man knowingly keep a cursed treasure close? It made sense that he didn¡¯t know.


    But then the librarian kept talking.


    ¡°BUT I swear I didn¡¯t know it was cursed! Hell, I didn¡¯t even know it was Elven!¡±


    LIE!


    The familiar instincts flared in Cedric¡¯s mind like a warning bell. Both claims were lies. The man knew exactly what that artefact was. He knew it was cursed. He knew it was Elven. Cedric¡¯s face turned ghostly pale as he darted a glance at Master.


    If Cedric, a mere yellow rank on the [Path of White Raven], could sniff out the falsehood, then Master¡ªGweneth ¡®The Nightmare¡¯ Draycotte, a Gold rank expert on the same path¡ªwould have already known every lie before the man even stammered it out. Cedric had heard stories about Gold ranks of the path. They saw the world differently, manipulating space, perceiving disturbances from miles away, predicting actions before they even happened. If she wanted, Master could probably guess what colour socks the librarian had on before the man even remembered dressing himself.


    The man was done for.


    Master¡¯s three faces were inscrutable, eyes gleaming with that same sharp, terrifying amusement she reserved for moments of cruelty¡ªor curiosity¡ªlike a cat toying with a mouse. Cedric had seen her do it before. She enjoyed pulling things, and people, apart. Not just figuratively, either. She had earned the title "The Nightmare" in the most literal ways.


    All three versions of her glided towards the poor sod like wraiths. One of her voices, honeyed and dripping with menace, asked, "A friend, you say?" The librarian twitched. "And this friend of yours didn¡¯t happen to mention that your little ¡®exquisite item¡¯ is a Cursed Elven Artefact? A ticking bomb of Dark Mana corruption if mishandled?"


    "I... I didn¡¯t know! Honest! I just¡ªlook, I didn¡¯t think it was anything more than a rare tome! I¡ªI¡¯ve got a hobby for this sort of thing, collecting oddities, and¡­ and¡­ I didn¡¯t mean for any of this!"


    The first part was a lie, the second was true, and the third was another lie. Honestly, it was painful watching the man dig his own grave. Giles looked like he might faint, Lavinia¡¯s usual unflappable expression wavered, and Beatrice¡­ well, she was looking at Master like she¡¯d just found a new deity to worship. Oh no. Not another one.


    Cedric braced himself for the moment the librarian might soil himself out of pure fear. But something shifted in the air. The cold aura¡ªthe bone-chilling tension that had settled over the room¡ªvanished. Master smiled. What? Not her usual grin that could freeze blood, but something softer, almost kind. The type of smile you''d offer when someone spills tea and you generously pretend it¡¯s no bother at all.


    "Very well," she said, her voice soft, the four versions of her merging back into one as if the spectacle had never happened. "I¡¯ll take this off your hands."


    Before the librarian could respond, the cursed tome vanished into thin air. Cedric couldn¡¯t tell if it had been destroyed or whisked away into one of Master¡¯s spatial pockets. But one thing was certain: it was no longer the librarian¡¯s problem.


    "W-what?" The librarian peered at his empty hands, his voice a tremor, "You¡¯re¡­ you¡¯re just going to take it?"


    "Yes. Consider yourself fortunate, librarian. A smidge more time and that little book of yours might¡¯ve spelled disaster right here. Next time, do be a tad more discerning when picking your friends and dabbling in your hobbies." Her tone softened, nearly playful now.


    "I... I don¡¯t know how to thank you," the librarian stuttered, ¡°Truly, I¡ªI¡¯m forever in your debt.¡±


    Another lie. Good grief, this bloody man. Meanwhile, Master was scheming something, and Cedric had no clue what. He¡¯d never been able to suss out if his Master was being truthful or what her true motives were. Maybe it was a gold rank thing, though he hadn¡¯t met another to compare. So, was it a gold rank quirk, or just her?


    ¡°Right, then!¡± Master chirped, already making for the door. ¡°Now that we¡¯ve saved this old fellow from his impending doom, let''s press on. We¡¯ve still got a fair bit of work to carry on with!¡±


    Cedric cast one last glance at the poor man before trailing after her, the rest of the team doing much the same. Spectators, all of them now. And safe. Really bloody safe. If a NetherBeast were lurking nearby, it was as good as gone. Cedric was certain Master knew precisely where the beast was. But why the leisurely pace? Master appreciated a straight question, so he ventured one as they walked.


    ¡°Master, have you detected the NetherBeast?¡±


    ¡°Oh no, my little pupil. Doesn¡¯t seem like there¡¯s a NetherBeast around here. Not even remotely close.¡±


    That hit Cedric like a brick. ¡°But¡­¡± Had he got it wrong? ¡°I swear I saw the Parda parting that day. Are you saying the NetherBeast actually retreated?¡±


    ¡°Nope, I just said it¡¯s not nearby, not that it wasn¡¯t summoned. Honestly, Cedric, ever since you became an adventurer, you¡¯ve been second-guessing yourself far too much. The NetherBeast was summoned, no doubt about that.¡±


    This was getting more tangled by the second.


    ¡°Come with me, I¡¯ll show you.¡± Master offered her hand with a smile, and the other to Beatrice, who giggled and took it. Another version of her appeared behind them, grabbing Lavinia and Giles by the shoulder as they hesitated. The world around them rippled.


    Spatial manipulation.


    The city dissolved, revealing a forest. A clearing, to be exact. Cedric heard Giles let out a startled yelp, and only then did he glance down to see what was beneath their feet...


    He too quickly stepped aside. The ground beneath him was scorched in odd patches, forming strange symbols that sent a chill down his spine. His hands moved on instinct, magic flaring to life before his eyes, circles of energy spinning and whirling as he summoned them. His perception told him there was no danger, but old habits die hard.


    There was no trace of magic in the clearing. Of course there wasn¡¯t¡ªMaster wouldn¡¯t have plopped them right on top of it if there had been. Whatever occurred here had long since gone dormant, its magic signature entirely dissipated.


    "Found something interesting?" Master¡¯s voice whispered in his ear, while yet another version of her stood right in front of him. He felt a twinge of disorientation.


    "Not really, Master. No magic signature, no lingering traces. Whatever happened here must¡¯ve been years ago. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen a ritual site this clean."


    "Ahh, the folly of youth. Always searching beyond the veil when the answer¡¯s staring them right in the face," she mused. "Do you think nature would just sit idly by and let these marks remain if it had been that long?"


    Cedric frowned, feeling daft for not considering that.


    "This ritual," Master continued, "is no older than 48 hours. Perhaps even less. It¡¯s the same one that summoned the NetherBeast."


    Cedric''s eyes widened as he took in the scene again. What in the blazes? How could the site be so pristine? It¡¯s no easy feat to erase the magical residue left from tampering with the Parda. His magical circles flared back to life, spinning faster as he poured more mana into them, sharpening his spatial perception. His vision blurred, yet he found no sign of spatial disturbance.


    Part of him wanted to ask if Master was certain but quickly squashed that thought. Of course she was. He settled on a more logical question.


    "But how was the summoning even done, Master? Every breach leaves a scar, a natural healing process. I see no aftermath here. Or... is the Nether that different?"


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    "There are ways to bypass that," a third copy of Gweneth said, casually strolling around the circle. The ground was scorched, and faint traces of a red chalk-like substance surrounded it. Someone had clearly tried to scrub it clean, but hadn¡¯t quite managed. Master bent down, her fingers brushing one of the runes.


    "A mirrored breach," she muttered, her eyes gleaming with fascination. "A localized summoning. Absolutely riveting... so damn fascinating..."


    Cedric wished he had the faintest clue what Master was on about. Mirrored breach? Localized summoning? These terms were as clear as mud. Though, in fairness, it wasn¡¯t entirely his fault¡ªanything involving the Parda had been banned ages ago. Even trying to get his hands on a book about how it worked would land him in a heap of trouble. Then again, Master might be able to slip him some... alternatives, if he asked nicely.


    "The runes seem like the work of a novice," Master remarked, her voice lilting with a touch of dreamy reverie. "But the mind behind this ritual¡­ Oh, I¡¯ve never seen anything quite like it."


    That stung a bit. If she of all people found this impressive, it had to be leagues beyond anything Cedric had encountered. She rambled on, listing why this ritual was so remarkable, but the four of them stood like statues, stone-faced and uncomprehending. And honestly, Cedric couldn''t blame them¡ªhe didn¡¯t have the foggiest idea what she was on about either! All any of them could do was stand there and listen respectfully while trying not to let their confusion show too much.


    Noticing their blank expressions, Master cleared her throat. "Ah, sorry, got a bit carried away there. But truly, this ritual deserves all the praise it gets." As if to underscore her point, another version of Master dropped down from a nearby tree, startling them all. This new Master handed the original a parchment and a pen before vanishing as quickly as she¡¯d appeared. On the parchment was a circle, eerily similar to the one used in the ritual. Perhaps she''d copied it from above, which was a bit unnerving. If Master wanted to study it this closely, how extraordinary could it be?


    "Right, let¡¯s carry on. From here, it should be a doddle to trace the remnants of Chaos," she declared, rising to her feet.


    "But there¡¯s no trace of anything around here, Master," Cedric protested, frowning.


    "Ah, if you can¡¯t find traces in the present, my dear boy, simply gaze into the past. The land¡¯s memories¡ªthose never lie," Master replied with a cheeky wink.


    ***


    The next part of their journey had Cedric thoroughly bewildered. Master led the way, and he and his team simply trailed after her¡ªwhat choice did they have? First stop was a nondescript house in the northern part of Randall. Master stood in front of it, smiling faintly, before moving on without so much as a word.


    The space around them twisted, and suddenly they were in the classroom of Randall¡¯s only school. It had been closed due to the recent¡­ unpleasantness, so there were no students in sight. Master perched herself on a desk, one that seemed oddly cleaner than the others. That was peculiar. Frowning, Cedric wove the matrix, circles forming around his eyes to sharpen his spatial perception. Yet the moment his gaze landed on the desk, the spell glitched, and the matrix fizzled out like a damp squib. His eyes widened.


    "Chaos!"


    Master merely smiled, and in the blink of an eye, the space shifted again.


    This time, they found themselves inside a house. There were people, though each of them was unnaturally asleep, sprawled in strange, awkward positions. No doubt, that was Master¡¯s handiwork. But it wasn¡¯t the slumbering occupants that caught her attention¡ªit was what lay beyond the window. An alley, seemingly unremarkable¡­ except it was crawling with inquisitors.


    "Bloody hell," Cedric muttered, immediately weaving his perception matrix again, only for it to snap back with a painful recoil, leaving his eyes smarting.


    "Chaos is the embodiment of unpredictability, disorder, and randomness. Try using magic here, and you¡¯ll likely end up with a headache¡ªor worse," Master cautioned, "It distorts your intentions."


    "But why is the chaos so potent here?" Cedric mumbled.


    "Why not see for yourself?" came another voice, identical to Master¡¯s, behind him. A doppelg?nger of her tapped his temple lightly.


    The world warped again, and though the transition was dizzying, Cedric soon found himself in the same alley. Only now, it was devoid of inquisitors¡ªjust him and the eerily quiet space. This felt more in line with what one might expect from such a narrow alley. He realized, with a bit of awe and dread mixed in, that he was standing in one of Master¡¯s crafted visions. It wasn¡¯t the first time she''d subjected him or her students to these bizarre scenarios, it was common in the Grey Tower. And while they tended to test the limits of their sanity, they also helped him develop a resilience to it, learning from it in ways that mere words couldn¡¯t teach.


    A noise caught his attention, whipping his head around. A man clad in black armour was dragging a girl, one hand clamped over her mouth. Wait¡ªno, not a girl¡ªa beastkin. She had horns sprouting from her head. She bit the man, and with a cruel motion, he flung her against the wall with such force that Cedric winced. Somehow, she was cushioned by an invisible force. Cedric almost summoned his perception matrix out of reflex before remembering¡ªthis was a vision. Magic wouldn¡¯t work here. Hell, he couldn¡¯t even hear what they were saying. But the man was clearly furious, and the girl, oddly, seemed unfazed.


    Things escalated quickly. The man seized her by the throat, yet he seemed unable to inflict any real harm. She grinned at him, taunting, but her expression twisted as he pulled out a knife, slashing through her clothes while holding her in a vicious grip. Though there was no sound, the girl''s face contorted into what Cedric could only imagine were screams of agony.


    And yet¡­


    The moment the knife drew blood, the air turned unnaturally cold, even within the confines of the vision. Cedric¡¯s gaze shifted immediately. There was¡­ something behind the girl. His instincts screamed at him not to look, even in this illusory world. But he knew, deep down, that it wouldn¡¯t harm him. With trepidation, he lifted his eyes and saw only a strange ¡­distortion in the vision, a warping of space where the sense of dread emanated.


    The Netherbeast. No doubt about it.


    Cedric winced as a sharp pain seared through his head, his vision blurring the moment he glanced at the distortion behind the girl. He quickly averted his eyes, focusing instead on the man in black armour. The man stood frozen, a statue of terror, before the distortion shifted. And then¡ªjust like that¡ªthe man ceased to exist. Where he once stood, now lay a crimson puddle on the floor, his hand grotesquely hanging in the air near the girl¡¯s neck, the only remnant of his presence.


    Cedric drew a shaky breath. Did¡­ that thing just protect the girl? His eyes widened in disbelief. No, that couldn¡¯t be right. The idea was absurd¡ªpreposterous, even. Netherbeasts were creatures of chaos, destruction, and hunger. Protection? That wasn¡¯t in their nature. Yet the next moment obliterated any sense of normalcy.


    The distortion disappeared, only for a small shadow of it to reappear on the girl¡¯s wrist. And then¡ªof all things¡ªthe girl gave it a thumbs-up.


    More noise. Cedric¡¯s attention snapped to the street, where more men in black armour were approaching. The girl said something to the shadow on her wrist before covering it, and that¡¯s when everything went haywire. The vision fractured, glitching erratically. Cedric¡¯s head throbbed in agony, the chaotic distortion making it feel like his brain was being torn apart. Suddenly, with a gasp, he awoke, his breath ragged.


    Everyone else around him was in a similar state of disarray, blinking and rubbing their temples. It seemed Master had shared the vision with all of them.


    Cedric, still reeling, voiced the question lingering in all their minds. ¡°Did that Netherbeast¡­ just save the beastkin?¡± He could scarcely believe the words himself. The notion that a Netherbeast¡ªan entity known for devouring anything it craved¡ªmight actually save something was beyond comprehension. Every record he¡¯d ever encountered described them as ravenous invaders, creatures summoned only to consume, leaving devastation in their wake. The very idea that one could protect a girl¡ªno, it was unthinkable. And yet...


    And don¡¯t even start on the girl. Was she the one who summoned it? Who was that man, the one who¡¯d kidnapped her? And who was she?


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ve seen that girl!¡± Beatrice suddenly chimed in, her voice shaky but certain.


    Cedric¡¯s head snapped around. ¡°What?¡± he blurted, just as Lavinia and Giles echoed the same question in unison.


    ¡°In the town hall. Yesterday,¡± Beatrice continued. ¡°There was a man with missing posters. He was desperate, looking for mercenaries to find his lost daughter. A beastkin, just like the one in the vision.¡±


    Cedric¡¯s mind raced. Could it be the same girl? The same beastkin?


    Master, who had been silent this whole time, didn¡¯t say a word. But there was a manic gleam in her eyes, a flicker of something wild, just as the space around them twisted once again.


    This time, they found themselves standing in yet another alley, facing an unremarkable brick wall. Without a word, Master strode up to a nearby lamp and fiddled with it. The wall shuddered and shifted, revealing a spiral staircase leading downward. She entered without hesitation, leaving Cedric to resist the urge to summon his perception matrix. The memory of the last painful backlash made him wince. If it were truly necessary, Master would have told him. So, like loyal sheep, they followed her without question.


    After what felt like an eternity of twists and turns, the stairs finally began to rise again.


    An exit. At last.


    The first thing that assaulted Cedric was the familiar scent of old, musty books. Wait¡ªthe bloody library from earlier? What in the name of all that¡¯s holy was this old man playing at?


    ¡°Oh my¡­ it seems we¡¯re back where we started,¡± Master mused, her tone light as ever. ¡°Let¡¯s keep on the trail. It should be a breeze from here.¡± She twirled on her heel, preparing to warp them again.


    But just before the space twisted, Cedric caught sight of something disturbing. Another version of Master appeared by the staircase, her face split into a grotesque smile, stretched to her ears, as if her very lips had torn her jaw in two. She ascended the stairs gracefully, but Cedric didn¡¯t need to see any more. Whoever the old man was, he was well and truly fucked.


    The space shifted again, and they found themselves in a forested clearing, bathed in soft sunlight, the air thick with the scent of flowers. Nothing but trees, grass, and blossoms stretched out before them.


    ¡°Seems like we¡¯ve hit a dead end,¡± Master said, though her tone betrayed little concern. Cedric knew better¡ªdead ends didn¡¯t exist for someone like her.


    One question had been gnawing at him since the vision. He couldn¡¯t hold it back any longer. ¡°Master, about that Netherbeast¡­ I saw it protect someone. I don¡¯t know¡ªare all the records I¡¯ve read wrong?¡±


    Master turned, amused by his question. ¡°Ahh, my dear pupil¡­ no, the records aren¡¯t wrong. I¡¯ve faced more than my share of Netherbeasts, and they are exactly as you¡¯ve read¡ªhungry invaders, devourers of all they crave. But this? No, this was something else entirely. An intricate ritual, a beastkin, meddling elves, and a strangely obedient Netherbeast? Not at all what I expected when we came here. But you¡ª" She smiled warmly, almost too warmly. "You¡¯ve helped your Master witness something extraordinary today.¡±


    Cedric¡¯s cheeks flushed. He hadn¡¯t done anything, really. All he¡¯d wanted was a bit of information to help the local authorities. But the unexpected praise made him blush, and he quickly deflected.


    ¡°So, um¡­ what now, Master? What kind of dead end is this?¡±


    Master''s eyes sparkled mischievously. ¡°Use your eyes and see.¡±


    Of course. Cedric immediately summoned his perception matrix and gazed across the clearing. As the circles swirled into focus, his breath caught. There, in the centre of the flower field, was a tear in space, slowly knitting itself shut.


    He stepped forward, eyes widening in disbelief. ¡°A goddamned portal?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­¡± Master¡¯s voice was almost trembling with excitement. ¡°I tried to peer beyond this tear, but the sheer amount of Chaos on the other side¡­ ahh, it distorted my vision completely.¡±


    Cedric couldn¡¯t help but feel an odd mixture of curiosity and dread. What in the blazes lay beyond that portal? What amount of Chaos could possibly faze Master? He swallowed hard, questions tumbling in his mind like clothes in a washing machine. Yet only one managed to escape his lips. ¡°What should we do, Master?¡±


    Master didn¡¯t immediately respond. A doppelg?nger of her appeared behind them while the original stepped closer to the tear, inspecting it like a cat with a new toy. ¡°Well, you lot can head back and let the authorities know that the Netherbeast is no longer an issue. It¡¯s not going to be our problem anymore.¡±


    Cedric frowned, feeling uneasy. ¡°What about you, Master?¡±


    The original Master waved them off dismissively, her attention still focused on the tear. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about me. I¡¯ve got some¡­ unfinished business to attend to before I go. But you¡¯ll be fine! I¡¯ve left you all a few little parting gifts!¡± she added with a gleeful tone.


    Before Cedric or anyone else could protest or ask what she meant by ¡®gifts,¡¯ the space warped around them once again. Everything twisted, spun, and they found themselves standing back in familiar inn, away from that clearing, with Master nowhere in sight.

 Interlude 2.3 Reiner Everhart

    By the time Reiner trudged back home, the sun had long bid its farewell. There was something off in his gait. A dull, dead weight in every step, as if his feet weren¡¯t quite sure they belonged to him anymore. He shoved the door open, its creaky protest grating on his nerves. How long had he let that racket fester? And how bloody distracted had he been in his work to ignore something as obvious as a groaning door?


    Inside, it was pitch black. Reiner lazily flicked a bit of mana into the board, sparking a dim light from the lamp. He staggered in, not bothering to take off his boots, and collapsed onto the bed with a grunt. His stomach growled, reminding him that the last time he¡¯d bothered to eat was this morning. But sod it all¡ªhe couldn''t muster the will to drag himself up and rustle up some grub. Curling up instead, he let out a frustrated growl. Ugh, for the love of all things unholy, he couldn''t even pull himself together enough to make dinner. Pathetic.


    Rolling onto his back, Reiner¡¯s mind wandered where it always did¡ªback to Jade. How long had it been since she went missing? Days? Think it¡¯s been a whole week now? What was she doing? Was she alright? And then, there was this whole bloody mess with the authorities. Whatever had crawled up their arses had them summoning enforcers like him, dragging him back to his hometown. All hush-hush, of course. No one telling him what in the name of all that''s decent was going on. Some kind of beast outbreak? Last one was a good ten years ago, and even then, Alcor and by extension, Randall, was never on the chopping block. Too far north. Any rampaging beasts would have to chew through two major cities before even sniffing this place. Nah, couldn¡¯t be that.


    Maybe illegal magic was making the rounds, but with the Inquisition crawling all over the place? Nah, this had to be big. Outlaw level stuff. But, honestly? He couldn¡¯t give a rat¡¯s arse about any of it. All he cared about was Jade. Where the hell was she?


    He¡¯d tried everything. Hired mercenaries, called in favours from old mates, even poked around that shady thieves¡¯ guild in Alcor. He¡¯d spent every day combing through every corner of the town himself. Jade would never vanish without a word. Not after what happened with those wretched girls earlier this year. A dark anger simmered beneath his skin. He could still picture those little monsters, the smirks on their faces after Jade had gone missing. Especially that Elise. Her smarmy grin was a festering wound that refused to heal.


    The divinator swore up and down that the girls had nothing to do with it, but Reiner¡¯s gut told him otherwise. Elise¡¯s smug face haunted him. His eyes drifted to the crossbow propped against the shelf. A wicked thought bloomed in his mind. Maybe he could get some real answers.


    A manic grin split his face. Sharp. Twisted. He shot up from the bed, snatching the crossbow. Hands trembling. For a moment he just stared at it. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks, unchecked, splashing onto the polished wood. For a brief moment, his reflection stared back at him from the gleaming surface of the weapon. His own tear-streaked face, a ghost of the man he once was.


    The sight sent a violent shudder through him. With a guttural howl, he hurled the crossbow across the room. It smashed into the wall with a deafening crash, splintering a shelf, sending books and bits flying. Reiner tore through the room like a mad dog, fists slamming into anything that dared cross his path. The bedside table went crashing, the lamp shattered, glass spraying everywhere. He grabbed a chair, chucking it with wild abandon¡ªwatching it splinter against the far wall.


    His breath came in jagged, ragged gasps as he stood in the wreckage. His knuckles, torn up and bleeding, throbbed as splinters dug into his skin. But Reiner couldn¡¯t care less. He stood there, shaking with rage he could barely rein in. What the hell was he doing? Why was he doing this? Jade. His daughter. His world. He needed to find her.


    His mind raced, scrabbling for any missing piece of the puzzle. And then, it clicked¡ªJord. Of course, his mate Jord, the one who dabbled in all sorts of secretive circles. Loved to hoard odd books and trinkets, that one. Yeah, Jord might help him with it.


    The girls? Sod ¡®em¡ªthey were just kids. And, bloody hell, he was only raging like this ¡®cause he was scared. What would Jade say if she saw him now, tearing the place apart like a lunatic? Yeah, he should pay Jord a visit. Anything that could help him find his daughter, anything at all.


    "Thalador, keep her safe," he muttered under his breath as he bolted out the door. The evening crowd was still milling about, and he noticed the whispers as they eyed his bloodied knuckles. But he didn¡¯t stop. Soon, he was standing in front of a familiar old library.


    Reiner banged his knuckles on the door, rattling the wood under his fist like it owed him money. He stood there, chest heaving from the mad dash over. Silence. With a frown, he knocked again, harder. Still nothing.


    "Brilliant," he muttered, trying the handle. It turned, door creaked open. Weird. Jord was always fussier than a nun with a lock after dark.


    He stepped inside, and the usual scent of old leather and dusty books hit him. But there was something else now. Something foul. A gut-twisting stench. Thick and sickening, like damp earth stirred with rancid meat. The smell clung to the back of his throat. Sharp. Really fucking sour. Reiner swallowed down the bile. ¡°Bloody hell. What in the name of Thalador...¡±


    His fingers twitched, desperate to pinch his nose, but he forced them down. Instead, he marched deeper into the gloom. With a quick flick, his mana sparked, and the lamps blinked to life, barely casting enough light to stir the shadows lurking between the shelves. Even the air felt off¡ªheavy, moist.


    He sniffed again, and a shiver crept up his spine. ¡°Jord, what the fuck did you do?¡± he growled under his breath.


    The first floor was empty, save for that stinking silence. Boots scuffed against the floorboards, echoing in the quiet. The smell clung to him, growing stronger with every step.


    Up the stairs he went, two at a time. The stench hit him like a wall halfway up, turning his stomach. Something was definitely wrong. Bloody hell, something was really wrong.


    His breath quickened, heart hammering in his chest. He knew what that smell was¡ªhe wasn''t daft. Dead bodies had their own special perfume, and this wasn¡¯t his first whiff of one. Not after years spent enforcing the slums of Alcor. But this? In Jord¡¯s place? His mind raced. What if¡­ No. It couldn¡¯t be him. It bloody better not be.


    Reiner¡¯s eyes darted to every corner, searching. But all he saw was dust and books. More dust than he remembered. Calm down, you git. But the smell still stalked him, filling every bloody room. Fresh, too. Had to be. Not a day old. And worse, there was that sickly sweet tang to it¡ªthe stench of rot. Fresh rot.


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    He scanned the entire floor¡ªnothing. Not a sign of Jord, or anyone, for that matter. But the smell, fresh as it was, told him there was a body somewhere, a fresh one. He bolted back downstairs, mind spinning. There was one place left. The basement.


    Of course, it was the fucking basement.


    His heart hammered as he stood frozen before the basement door. Fingers brushed the cold, iron handle. "Please, Jord, be alright," he muttered under his breath, then yanked the door open. Oh god. The stench hit him like a slap¡ªthick and choking. He slapped a hand over his nose, gagging, but he went down those creaky old stairs anyway, each groan from the wood beneath his boots making his heart leap in his chest. His mind screamed prayers to Thalador for his mate¡¯s safety.


    Pitch black. He flicked his hand, a spark of mana flaring as a fireball danced above his palm. The place lit up in the glow, shadows leaping everywhere. But nothing. Just bloody crates and dust-covered books.


    No blood. No body. Not what he was expecting.


    Reiner¡¯s skin crawled, every hair on edge. Something was proper messed up here. The stink of death clung to everything like a bad rash, but no body, no puddle of congealed blood. Just that sickly, festering odor, slinking through the air like a damn ghost. Where the HELL was it?


    His eyes darted about, instincts screeching. The smell wasn¡¯t coming from here; it was being drawn here. His gaze swept over the floor, the walls, shelves¡­ and then, something caught his eye. In the corner, a pile of books had toppled over, scattered all higgledy-piggledy. His boot nudged one, giving the floor a tap. Faint sound, almost like a whisper.


    He frowned. Tapped harder.


    Hollow.


    His heart nearly burst from his chest. His boot thudded against the wood¡ªthunk, thunk. There was something under the floorboards, something buried. He crouched down, fingers brushing the seams of the warped old wood.


    Before he even knew what he was doing, he dug his nails in and wrenched at the boards. They creaked, groaned under the strain, but something was definitely down there. That rotten smell thickened as the boards gave way with a splintering crack.


    The hollow gaped open like a hungry maw, and the stench¡ªdeath, decay¡ªcame flooding up, thick as a fog. Reiner gagged, staggering back, the fireball in his hand sputtering out.


    "Oh, Thalador," he muttered, swallowing the bile clawing at his throat.


    With barely a second thought, he conjured another flicker of flame. His eyes adjusted, and then he saw it¡ªsomething metal gleamed beneath the scattered books. A seam. Trapdoor, maybe? Leading further down.


    He shoved the rest of the books aside, uncovering more of that metal edge. His fingers traced it until they found a hidden latch. It gave with a groan, and the floor split open, revealing a narrow stairway descending into pitch darkness.


    "Oh, Jord¡­ what¡¯ve you gotten yourself into?"


    He paused for a beat. Then, "Fuck it!" And down he went. Each step into the depths brought that deathly smell closer, heavier. As he stepped into the lower chamber, the faint glow of mana crystals scattered about bathed the room in an eerie blue light.


    And there it was. No escaping it. The whole bloody chamber was filled with it. A nightmare, ripped straight from the foulest corners of some twisted mind.


    Organs¡ªhearts, lungs, livers¡ªall ripped clean from their owners, each one preserved, stuck in glass jars that lined the shelves. All tied together with shiny strings. Rows of eyes, ears, fingers, all carefully placed. The blood smeared across the jars in dried, crusty streaks. A fucking ritual?


    In the middle of the room, above an altar, hung what was left of a body. Spine snapped in half, ribcage torn open. It just hung there. The skull cracked wide, skin pulled tight over a half-rotten face, mouth slack, opening and closing like some grotesque puppet.


    Below, the floor was littered with more bits¡ªflesh, bone, all scattered about. Limbs twisted at the wrong angles, tendons snapped, skin peeled back to show the muscle gleaming underneath.


    This was people. Loads of them. And from the looks of it, this had been going on for a while. Reiner always knew Jord had a few dodgy secrets, but he figured it was just old man¡¯s eccentricities. Never in a million years would he have imagined this. People had died for this. Had Jord done all this?


    Reiner¡¯s world was collapsing in on itself. But just then, his eyes caught the worst of the lot¡ªa head, lying on the floor, surrounded by circles. Torn from its body, but somehow still moving. The eyes rolled in their sockets, the mouth opening and closing, like it was trying to speak. Only gurgles of air escaped.


    What the hell was this? A bloody undead? How? What?


    ...What the hell had Jord been up to here?


    "My, my... didn¡¯t expect any guests," a voice, smooth as silk, floated in the air, and Reiner¡¯s heart shot up into his throat.


    ¡°WHO THE FUCK IS THERE?¡± Reiner roared, channeling his mana. His Path surged through his limbs, his strength and speed shooting up tenfold. He slammed his boot on the floor, sending a tremor through the room. ¡°SHOW YOURSELF, OR I¡¯LL FIND YOU, AND YOU¡¯LL BLOODY WELL REGRET IT!¡± He snarled, teeth bared.


    A soft chuckle echoed through the chamber. Low. Mocking. Whoever was watching found this amusing. Reiner¡¯s eyes darted, shadow to shadow. Each flicker of light spiked his pulse. Muscles taut. Ready. The floorboards underfoot trembling with the pressure of his mana. But no one. No one appeared.


    Then¡ªcrack. Sharp. A groaning creak. Wood and metal splitting. Reiner¡¯s gaze snapped up, just in time. The roof split open, tearing, as if space itself had been sliced. A rift. Moonlight spilled in, thin, silver beam cutting through the dark. Piercing.


    And there¡ªat the far end of the room, lounging. A figure. Perched atop Jord¡¯s mutilated corpse. Limbs bent, twisted. Grotesque. His face locked in terror, eyes wide, staring at nothing.


    She was tall. Too tall. Even sitting. Moonlight framed her, casting her in silver. Crimson dress flowing, pooling around her like blood. Skin pale. Hair black, sleek.


    Reiner¡¯s breath caught. She was beautiful¡ªunsettlingly so. For a moment, he was almost distracted from the sight of Jord¡¯s mangled body beneath her. Did she kill him?


    Reiner shook his head, pushing the thought away. He couldn¡¯t afford to let emotion cloud his judgement. Space magic? Down here? Without a single matrix? Incantation? She was leagues above him in power. And now those eyes¡ªsharp, glowing blue, with slitted pupils¡ªhad locked onto him. A cold, predatory smile curved her lips, and a chill sweat slid down Reiner¡¯s spine. She crossed her legs, leaning casually against what was left of Jord. Confident.


    "Well," she began, her voice as smooth as silk, "I daresay you''re wondering what brings me here. No need for alarm. Merely tending to some... refuse." A violet crystal materialized in her hand, which she inspected with an air of mild disinterest. "Ah, Elven necromancy... such a vulgar craft. Quite the defilement, really. Reanimating corpses, stitching the dead with such crude threads of magic. Where, I ask, is the artistry in that? It¡¯s all so terribly gauche. Binding souls to rotting flesh... what an utter waste." She clicked her tongue, shaking her head in disdain. "True necromancy should aspire to something higher... something sublime."


    Her gaze shifted lazily to Jord¡¯s mutilated remains, a cold chuckle slipping from her lips, devoid of warmth. "Or, as in this case, when executed poorly, one ends up with this unfortunate specimen. It appears I arrived a touch late. He was well on his way to becoming a death knight."


    Reiner¡¯s mind reeled. Was she talking about Jord? No... it couldn¡¯t be. Yet, as much as he didn¡¯t want to believe it, something gnawed at him. The evidence was all around¡ªthis place, old and foul, had been like this for a long time. And Jord had been here all along.


    ¡°Relax,¡± the same voice whispered, now directly in his ear, and Reiner froze. The woman still sat in front of him, yet hands, cold and unmistakably hers, rested on his shoulders. He didn¡¯t dare move.


    ¡°How rude of me,¡± she said, the voice behind him echoing her words. "Allow me to properly introduce myself."


    Reiner felt like he was drowning. He was in way over his head.


    "Gweneth Draycotte," the voice behind him murmured, while the woman before him offered a cold, mirthless smile. "Head of the Grey Tower. Some know me as The Nightmare, though I¡¯ve never cared much for the moniker. You, however..." Her smile deepened as she rose, her movements fluid, almost ¡­ethereal. "You may call me Gwen."


    She extended a hand, "A pleasure to meet you, Reiner Everhart."

 Chapter 49: Search for the Depths

    The tunnel zigged and zagged, narrowing with every step, the air subtly shifting in ways only I could notice. I craned my neck, nostrils flaring as I honed in on the faintest puff of air. It wasn¡¯t just a hunch¡ªthis was my Skill, something more refined. The airflow, ever so obedient, always told me its secrets. There were patterns, delicate changes in pressure and temperature. The way it brushed against the walls painted a mental map of the tunnels. Tight spaces sent the wind rushing faster, while wider chambers stretched the current, slow and thick. My skill wasn¡¯t just sensing the breeze¡ªit was reading the very space around me through its movements.


    Funny thing was, I reckoned that, at higher levels, I wouldn¡¯t even need sight. Whether it was my increased intelligence or the skill itself sharpening, it had become instinctual. I could track my path, mark the tunnels I¡¯d passed through by the texture of the air alone. Handy, really, in a place like this.


    I was heading far, far away from the ritual site¡ªthe spot where Barn and the Queen had their little dust-up, and where that whole tomfoolery with the cultists went down. Hanging around there any longer would¡¯ve been tantamount to begging for the elves to sniff me out. And, let¡¯s be honest, even mid-level grey core warriors or mages? Yeah, no chance I could take them on at this stage.


    So, I legged it.


    Deeper into the dungeon¡ªthat was the ticket. A proper challenge awaited, a chance to evolve, grow stronger. With stealth still engaged, my scales merged with the shadows, shifting with the dungeon¡¯s glow. Sneaky dragon mode engaged! Stalking my prey, ever so slyly. Heh.


    My current quarry? Creepers. Always moved in packs, these third-stage nasties, but I¡¯d spotted a lone one. Also, something about them was a tad strange. Odd to find them lurking up here, of all places. Their growth would be stunted without anything above second-stage monsters to munch on.


    I could sympathise.


    That cursed morphogen and experience penalty was the bane of my existence. Anything below my level gave me barely a crumb. Even when I ate them, I¡¯d get a fraction of the morphogen I needed. Took three of those bug monsters in that sap tunnel just to increase it by 1. Ugh.


    At least those bugs had mana cores. That had been a small mercy.


    I pulled up my stat screen.


    Name: Jade


    Level: 1


    Species: Voracious Manaweaver (Draconis) (III)


    Abilities: Mana Devourer


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 17


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 34


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 42


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 29


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 13/13


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 39/44


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Echo Claw Swipe: Level 1 (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Stealth: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Spectral Crunch: Level 1 (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Quick Dash: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flight: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Deep Breathing: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Air Sense: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Climb: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crush Claw: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flamethrower: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Manipulation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Lightning Affinity: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes - Focusing Lenses, Peripheral Optimization (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws - Claw Flexibility, Razor-Edge Claws (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales - Colour Adaptation, Shock-Absorbent Scales (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings - Hollow Bones (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir, Mana Conservation (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac - Stamina Surge Reservoir (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Conduit Vasculature (I): +0


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 1


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 5


    </li>


    </ul>


    After my latest evolution, I awoke with a modest 10 mana points in the bank. But after polishing off those three bug creatures, my mana shot up to 13. Their little cores must''ve done the job. They were the only stage two beasties I''d encountered with mana cores so far, and apparently capable of a bit of magic as well. How charming.


    On my travels, I ran into a few more creatures¡ªsadly, not a core among them. They all ended up in my stomach, adding to my morphogen but little else. Quite the inconvenience, really. If I wanted to make any actual progress, I needed more cores. And that meant delving deeper into this dungeon. Pronto.


    But first... MANA!


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    I froze mid-step, taking a sharp breath. Finally, I could feel it¡ªthe elusive energy that had been playing hide and seek with me. A pleasant warmth from my core, seeping through my veins like molten gold. It was everywhere, coursing through me, filling me with untapped power.


    Controlling it, though? That was a different story.


    At first, it was like trying to catch smoke with my claws. Slippery. Faint. It kept shifting, dodging my attempts to grasp it. Even human mages struggled for years to feel mana, let alone wield it properly. I wasn¡¯t any different, apparently.


    It was frustrating¡ªuntil the system chimed in with a reminder: Mana Manipulation.


    Ah. Of course.


    Instinct had been spot on, as usual. There was a skill for this. With a handful of points still in reserve, I bought it.


    Immediately, the fog lifted.


    Now, this wasn¡¯t some ethereal force swirling around inside me¡ªit was tangible, something I could control. Slowly, methodically, I started directing it. First, from my core outward, guiding it through my veins. I carefully nudged it toward different areas¡ªmy limbs, my chest¡ªnot rushing. There were natural pathways, channels where the mana flowed more easily, and I honed in on those.


    No more chaos. Every movement was calculated. Precise. Each push of mana became a test of control, a measure of how far I could go.


    Casting a spell? Still a way off, I think. But now I had the medium. The groundwork. With a bit of time, I¡¯d be the fiercest caster this world had ever seen. Ohohoho!


    Ahem.


    More than just that, though¡ªmy fire gland was now in working order. Time for a proper test.


    I took a deep breath and let the mana pool in my chest. Instinctively, I channeled it towards the gland nestled in my throat. Heat began to bloom¡ªnot a wild explosion, but a steady, contained force. Like holding food in your mouth¡ªonly, in this case, my throat. The sensation was odd, to say the least. My natural impulse was to spit it out or swallow it, but I resisted.


    I could hold it there. Control it.


    Probably for quite some time, too.


    This newfound finesse must¡¯ve been thanks to my recent upgrades¡ªone for extra mana capacity, the other for holding fire longer. Surprisingly, it wasn¡¯t as uncomfortable as I¡¯d anticipated. Sure, my throat burned a bit, but the heat was bearable. Controlled. Almost... pleasant.


    A quick glance at my stat page confirmed: 4 mana points to fully charge the fire gland. Absolutely perfect. I was primed for action.


    I crept forward, ever so slowly, eyes locked on a twisted creeper hanging above me like a grotesque chandelier. Ambush predator, was it? Well, so was I. And with the enhanced hues I could now perceive, whatever camouflage it thought it had? Completely useless.


    It had no clue I was even there.


    But I knew.


    And the first strike? That would be mine.


    The creeper hung motionless, its claws poised in anticipation, twitching. It was still unaware. My muscles coiled, ready to spring. My body sank low, barely a sound escaped me¡ªonly the soft thrum of my heartbeat filled the silence.


    Now.


    I opened my throat.


    Fire erupted. Hot. Blistering. A roaring torrent shot from my maw, guided with precision by my skill, burning through the air with a vicious hiss. The flames engulfed the creeper in a single breath. It screeched¡ªa jagged, ear-splitting wail as its blackened skin bubbled and peeled, its body dropping from the ceiling with a thud.


    But it wasn¡¯t done. It thrashed, desperate, still moving.


    And just like that, my stealth broke.


    I stopped the flames, throat still burning, but the fire gland was still three-quarters full. I could still unleash three more volleys like that. With a quick, practiced thought, I used one more mana point, filling it back up. That left me with 8 mana.


    The creeper, despite its injuries, still had the presence of mind to open its mouth, its jagged teeth glistening with venom. I knew what was coming next.


    Raising my wings, I waited. Timing was everything.


    The familiar barbed tongue shot toward me, slick with that paralytic toxin, but I was ready. With a single, powerful wing flap, I shot upward, the tongue whipping beneath me.


    Perfect.


    I glided effortlessly through the air, jaws open wide as I snapped down. My teeth found their mark¡ªthe creeper¡¯s tongue. Spectral Crunch maximized the force of my bite, my jaw clamping down with bone-shattering strength. My goal was simple: catch its tongue and keep it from running.


    What I didn¡¯t expect was for my bite to sever it completely.


    The tongue snapped off with a delightful squelch, followed by the most ungodly screech as the creeper lost its one and only defense. In a fit of panic, it spun round like a headless chicken, scrambling to scarper.


    ¡°Oh, not a chance!¡±


    As if I¡¯d let my dinner make a run for it.


    ¡°Come back here, Food!¡±


    The poor creature took off, limbs flailing about in a comically desperate fashion¡ªits speed was something to behold, given the circumstances. But alas, no matter how swift, I was swifter.


    Much swifter.


    My wings snapped open, catching the air. One powerful beat, and I surged forward, closing the distance. I wasn¡¯t flying¡ªno way that would work in these cramped tunnels. But gliding? That I could do. It was low, predatory, and efficient. Each motion was smooth, my body streamlined, my muscles working in perfect sync. The Flight skill¡¯s innate knowledge made every movement calculated, deliberate. I barely touched the ground, claws grazing the stone with each leap. It wasn¡¯t just running¡ªit was a hybrid, blending agility with the short bursts of a glide. Fast, silent, lethal.


    The creeper¡¯s legs flailed, scrambling to escape. Its movements were frantic now, pain twitching through its body. It zig-zagged through the tunnel, probably trying to lose me in the twists it likely knew well from hunting in these parts. But I was a step ahead, predicting each turn, the airflow from earlier giving me an edge.


    I narrowed my eyes, wings snapping once more. A single powerful beat shot me forward, even faster. Stamina wasn¡¯t an issue here. I could¡¯ve used Quick Dash, but it wasn¡¯t necessary. Each precise step and wingbeat was closing the gap. Five feet. Three. One.


    My claws extended, razor-sharp and ready.


    With one last burst of speed, I pounced. Echo Claw.


    My claws sank into the creeper¡¯s spine, the impact sending a shockwave through my body. Then came the echo, a secondary impact, doubling the damage. The creature let out a final, guttural screech as I pinned it to the ground, dust and dirt scattering as my tail coiled around its legs, immobilizing it completely.


    No hesitation. No remorse. The hunt was done, and the victor was me.


    I opened my jaws wide, and with one quick, brutal Spectral Crunch, I severed its spine. The chase had ended as quickly as it had begun.


    [You have slain a level 2 Umbrocephalus rapax(III).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    Well, that¡¯s just grand. No level up, no significant gains. Progress slower than a sloth on sedatives. Ugh! I craved depths, damn it! Dropping the severed spine from my jaws, I licked the metallic tang of blood off my gnashers.


    Right, so, I¡¯d already munched through six monsters today. Not exactly ravenous... but far from stuffed, either.


    Without any pomp, I scooped up the creeper¡¯s limp body, clutching it close with my claws while balancing on my hind legs. My wings stretched out to steady me, and lo and behold, I actually managed to stay upright¡ªa neat little trick I¡¯d picked up since my recent upgrades. One step. Two. A flutter of wings. Not quite flight, but enough to glide smoothly out of the hot zone.


    Creepers always mobbed up. Sticking around for a mid-battle snack would be asking for trouble.


    I followed the tunnel¡¯s draft, wings beating to keep up a brisk pace. Eventually, I found the narrow passage I¡¯d spotted earlier. Just the ticket.


    Squeezing in, I dragged the creeper¡¯s body behind me. Safe enough, I reckond.


    Bon App¨¦tit.


    Without further ado, I tucked in.


    [Morphogen source assimilated.]


    [Morphogens acquired: +2.]


    [Mana Devourer activated.]


    [Maximum Mana increased: +2.]


    This phase was going to be a slow burner, wasn¡¯t it? Still, I couldn¡¯t grumble¡ªmy mana had bumped up by 2 this time! Clearly, higher-level cores gave me a more substantial mana boost. Duly noted. I imagined there had to be a limit to how much I could store, but where that limit was? Who knew? Fifty, at least. Surely.


    Before venturing deeper into the dungeon, I poked my snout out of my hidey-hole. All clear. Ideal time for a little practice. There was this basic mana drill I recalled¡ªfrom the school, of course. Once a mage began to feel their mana, they practiced expelling it deliberately, forcing it out through their fingers. I had claws, but the principle was the same. I had the mana to spare, and it was an excellent way to improve my Mana Manipulation. Might as well take advantage of it.


    I let the mana flow through my veins, focusing on each movement, and then expelled it forcefully from my claws. Each pulse of energy left me more attuned to its rhythm, more in control. I repeated the process until I had just three mana points left. No need to go completely dry¡ªI needed some in reserve, just in case. Now, I¡¯d wait and see how long it took to recover.


    ***


    I trotted through the tunnels, moving with a catlike grace, one eye keenly fixed on my mana bar. As soon as it topped off at 15 points, I stopped counting. Hmm, three minutes to recover a point, was it? Not too shabby. Occasionally faster, sometimes a touch slower, but a rough average would do. Three minutes per point¡ªacceptable, if not brilliant.


    Feeling rather pleased with myself, I shut the screen and turned my attention back to the tunnels. The hues lit up my path as I moved, though I trusted more than just my eyes. Pausing, I drew in a deep breath, almost tasting the air. Something was amiss in the distance. While the usual airflow through these tunnels trickled like tiny streams, this felt different¡ªa great, swirling vortex. This had to be the way down. No two ways about it.


    I let my Airflow skill lead the way now, edging closer, stealthily creeping toward it. So close. Almost to the depths! The tunnel veered sharply left, and I knew the source was just beyond that bend. But as I prepared to turn, the hues glinting off the walls unveiled something... unexpected. Or perhaps not.


    Grey exoskeletons, lurking against the ceiling, perfectly camouflaged. Four of them.


    Naturally. Why should anything ever be simple for me?

 Chapter 50: Filth VS Filth

    I despised those blasted creepers. Filthy little blighters! All they¡¯d ever given me in this godforsaken dungeon was grief. Every time I crossed paths with them, it was an excruciating ordeal. Bah! Just you wait, you venomous sacks of misery! I pulled back, claws sinking into the stone beneath me.


    Sure, I could try legging it past them, but let¡¯s not be daft. Who knew what horrors were lurking further ahead? And while I had strength and stealth in my corner, sneaking past these cretins seemed a touch too dicey. Four of them... even I wasn¡¯t daft enough to fancy my chances in such a suicidal venture.


    I wasn¡¯t immune to their toxins, and let¡¯s be honest, I wasn¡¯t about to play fast and loose with my life. Especially not with those wretched barbed tongues of theirs. I always avoided those particular bits when dining on them¡ªfar too risky for my liking.


    No, a head-on clash was out of the question. I took a step back, an idea already brewing in my mind. Pausing for a moment, I tasted the air, flicking my tongue to catch any familiar scents on the faint breeze. If my hunch was correct¡­ I¡¯d spotted something nearby that might do the trick.


    Two creatures in this dungeon had managed to crawl under my skin like no others. First, obviously, were the creepers. My disdain for them had become downright personal. One of the vile creatures had once devoured an entire spider colony, even though it didn¡¯t gain the slightest bit of experience from it.


    Ludicrous! Was it showing off? Trying to make a statement? Even when I ate a stage-two monster, it barely gave me a third of a Morphogen. A third! What sort of rubbish was that? If I had the misfortune of eating a stage-one, what would it be¡ªone-ninth? One-twenty-seventh? Ugh, I couldn¡¯t be bothered with the arithmetic. All I knew was that these creepers were sadistic little parasites, preying on the weak instead of facing proper foes. Cowards, the lot of them.


    The second menace? Rats. Filthy, slimy, repugnant rats. Always travelling in packs, swarming over one another like a festering soup of vermin. Just thinking about them made my scales itch. I had the unfortunate pleasure of stumbling across one of their nests on my way here. No idea what stage they were at, but their numbers¡ªhundreds, at least¡ªmade my skin crawl. I¡¯d watched them gnaw away at the skeleton of something that vaguely resembled a creeper. Utterly revolting.


    I slipped past them at the time, not wanting to take on their sheer numbers, but the thought of their disgusting little bodies still sent a chill down my spine.


    They moved as if they shared one mind, operating with an unsettling synchronicity. Hive-mind? Perhaps. It didn¡¯t matter. What did matter was that I had a plan. If I could lure the rats toward the creepers, let them duke it out amongst themselves¡­ I might just rid this dungeon of its two most repugnant denizens in one fell swoop.


    Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho! I rather liked the sound of that.


    Ahem.


    One whispered prayer to Thalador, and I glided¡ªwell, ran¡ªdown the tunnel. I still needed a name for this kind of sprint. It was ridiculously fast, and I loved it. Occasionally stopping to check the airflow or sneaking just in case another monster was lurking nearby, I reached my destination in no time. A vertical slope loomed ahead in the tunnel, a sharp decline that would make my running-gliding trick even easier. The hues were always there, lighting the tunnel like a twisted beacon. And there they were, in the distance¡ªthe pack of rats. Monster rats. Each one the size of a cat, with sharp, needle-like teeth tearing into yet another skeleton.


    Bloody hell. Like a swarm of locusts, they were. Just when I thought things couldn¡¯t get any more disgusting.


    Focus, Jade!


    First, I funneled mana into my fire gland¡ªonly half this time. Enough for two torrents of flames, which should be plenty. Holding the fire mana in my throat, I activated stealth. My scales blended with the cavern walls, my breathing shallow, claws bent, even my heart barely making a sound. Sneaky!


    I crept closer, holding back the urge to gag at the sight. Filthy monsters. I just needed to set one trail ablaze. As I inched forward, I let loose¡ªa burst of red-hot fire from deep in my throat. Instantly, the nearest rats were seared alive, their flesh bubbling and their shrieks echoing through the tunnel.


    DIE, YOU FILTHY RATS!!


    A curious thing, though¡ªwhile only a handful caught the brunt of the blaze, more rats shrieked in agony. As if they all felt it. Huh. How peculiar. But no time to ponder that; their beady, malevolent eyes were now all on me. One plucky rat leapt forward¡ªstraight into its fiery doom. Good riddance.


    But hundreds more were coming, lunging at me like a sea of screeching fury. Time to go!


    I ran¡ªfast. Faster than I¡¯d ever moved in this dungeon. But their size betrayed their speed; they were surprisingly quick, their furious screeching filling the tunnel behind me.


    After me? Or... led by me?


    Ohohoho! Perfect!


    I kept running, slowing now and then to make sure the rats didn¡¯t lose sight of me. I couldn¡¯t help it¡ªI wagged my butt at them. Ahahaha! Come on then, you vile lot! Let¡¯s see if you can keep up. Their rage grew, as did their speed. Excellent. I needed them angry, frothing mad, right on my heels.


    Through the winding tunnels, I led the swarm deeper and deeper into the dungeon. Just one more turn, and there they were¡ªthose creepers, still clinging to the ceiling like the patient predators they were. Perfect.


    I slowed, wings shifting as I grabbed hold of the tunnel''s ceiling, mimicking the creepers. My Climb skill guided me, letting my claws dig in for stability. I pressed my wings tight against my back and flattened myself against the roof. The rats, oblivious to the trap, surged into the tunnel. Their shrill, hungry squeals echoed off the stone, and their beady red eyes gleamed with feral rage. Packed so tightly together, they moved like a singular, disgusting mass¡ªa living tide of fur and teeth. Ugh, revolting pieces of shit.


    Up ahead, the creepers remained utterly still, perfectly camouflaged¡ªjust as I¡¯d left them. Efficient predators, those, with the patience of saints, lying in wait for the next hapless soul to wander into their grasp. Today, that honour belonged to the rats.


    I pressed even closer to the ceiling, my scales blending into the stone, with Stealth keeping me nicely hidden. My breath slowed to shallow puffs, though I couldn¡¯t help but wonder¡ªwhat if the rats had another way of detecting me? By smell? By sound? My heart raced a bit at the thought, but no, the little terrors were too consumed by their own fury. They surged ahead, none the wiser, not even sparing a glance upwards. Bless their tiny minds.


    The first rat reached the zone beneath the creepers. All it took was the smallest flicker of movement. One of the ceiling dwellers shot its tongue out¡ªbarbed, venomous, and straight to the point. The rat barely had time to blink before it was yanked upwards in one swift motion. A sharp crack later, and it was curtains for that one.


    Yet the horde pressed on, utterly undeterred.


    The rats surged like a furry flood, and the creepers responded with well-practiced efficiency. Three more tongues lashed out, each snaring a rat with surgical precision. In mere seconds, more writhing bodies were pulled into the air, and the tunnel was filled with the grisly symphony of snapping bones and punctured flesh. The creepers moved with a machine-like precision, transforming the tunnel into a macabre assembly line. I might have found it mesmerising¡ªif it weren¡¯t so thoroughly disgusting.


    The rats were not helpless either. Their strength lay in numbers, and it quickly became clear that these numbers granted them a near-overwhelming advantage. The instant a creeper struck, several rats shifted their attention, launching themselves onto the walls, scrambling over each other to reach the ceiling. Needle-sharp teeth gnashed into the creepers¡¯ legs and abdomens. For every rat that the creepers snatched, several more swarmed them in retaliation.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    It was a brutal spectacle. The creepers lashed out wildly, their venomous tongues flicking through the air like whips, catching rats and flinging them aside with mechanical efficiency. But the rats were relentless, biting and clawing at anything they could reach, heedless of how many of their own fell in the process.


    I observed from a safe distance before slowly creeping forward. The way the creepers moved along the ceiling¡­ it was almost laughably simple. Their motion was mechanical: claws served to anchor them while tongues provided the necessary leverage, with joints extending just enough to avoid any wasted movement. Each limb had a specific range, optimized for pulling prey into their mouths as efficiently as possible. The entire structure of their bodies was built for this¡ªthe perfect ambush predator. But their one flaw? They weren¡¯t built to handle an attack from all directions. Especially from something as chaotic as a swarm.


    A plan began to form in my mind, a little experiment I was curious to test: how did the experience system work in cases like this? If multiple creatures wound one target, who gets the experience when it dies? Would it be split evenly? Did the creature delivering the killing blow claim it all? I had no clue. But this situation presented the perfect opportunity to find out. Slowly, I slinked forward.


    Despite their strength, the creepers were struggling under the assault. These were stage 3 creatures, after all. But the rats had sheer numbers on their side. No wings to flee, no ranged attacks like mine. The creepers were limited by the range of their venomous tongues and the occasional mutated appendage¡ªone of them had a barbed tail that skewered rats left and right. But even that tail had its limitations. Once the rats got on them, it turned into a mess of gnashing teeth and flailing limbs.


    And me? Oh, I had no plans of letting these creepers perish before I could get a few hits in myself. Risky? Sure. But curiosity has always been a bit of a fickle friend. Besides, I had two things those creatures didn¡¯t: wings for a swift retreat, and the upper hand when it came to ranged attacks.


    Fire mana surged into the gland in my throat. Full this time. A quick glance at my screen showed I was five mana down. Ten left. Perfect.


    I also had a skill that would make this a lot easier:


    Flamethrower: Optimizes control over flame projection, enhancing precision and directional targeting of flame torrents for more effective application in both offense and defense.


    In hindsight, an excellent choice alongside Mana Manipulation. One would think spitting fire was straightforward, but trust me, it was trickier than it sounded. Your vision goes all wonky, and aiming becomes a right faff. But with Flamethrower, I could fine-tune the spread, pick the perfect angle, and make sure I wasn¡¯t wasting mana on some haphazard spray.


    I zeroed in on my first target¡ªa particularly miserable creeper, overrun by rats, shrieking as they tore into its flesh. The sheer brutality was almost... artful. But patience, patience. Timing is everything. You don¡¯t rush brilliance.


    The battle below was pure chaos¡ªrats crawling up the walls, claws digging into the jagged stone like the scurrying pests they were. One of the creepers was thrashing about, hopelessly trying to fling them off, but its efforts only made things worse. More rats latched onto its underbelly, and then¡ªcrack!¡ªits legs gave out under the weight of the horde. One of the beasts had already vanished beneath the swarm, consumed in a frenzy. The rats were everywhere, devouring anything they could sink their teeth into.


    I dug my claws into the stone, leaning forward with a toothy grin as I watched the chaos unfold. Only three creepers left, and they were on their last legs¡ªone already half-eaten, twitching pathetically as it succumbed to the swarm. The others weren¡¯t far behind.


    My jaws parted, the fire in my throat ready to burst forth.


    Now.


    I let it loose¡ªa brilliant torrent of orange flame.


    Flamethrower.


    The attack was swift and precise, flames licking through the tunnel with enough range to keep me distant from the fray. The fire engulfed the first creeper and the surrounding rats, their agonized screeches filling the cavern as the flames consumed them. The rats, though burning, scattered quickly from the corpse.


    [You have slain a level 3 Umbrocephalus rapax (III).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    The first burst of flame fizzled out, and that¡¯s when I clocked them¡ªrats scrambling up the walls just beneath me. Bugger. My stealth had well and truly scarpered. No time to dawdle¡ªI had to act sharpish. My gaze fixed on the next creeper, its legs already being chewed on by those little vermin. Oblivious, it didn¡¯t even notice me as I unleashed another flamethrower, this time straight at its exposed back. The fire crawled up its spine, right to the noggin. The delightful scent of charred, sizzling flesh filled the air as it flailed in its death throes before finally packing it in.


    The rats scattered once again, leaving the burning corpse behind.


    [You have slain a level 2 Umbrocephalus rapax (III).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    Another kill.


    One left.


    The final creeper clung to the ceiling, barely holding on. Its body was covered in deep gashes, armor cracked where the rats had torn through. It flailed weakly, trying in vain to shake off the few remaining attackers still latched onto its legs.


    The rats were already onto me. I felt the sharp sting as one of them bit into my hind legs. IT DARED?!?


    I inhaled sharply, chest expanding with fury, lungs stretching like a bellows. The muscles in my throat coiled, tense with anticipation. And then¡ªI let it loose.


    It wasn¡¯t just a sound. It was a force. A primal, raw blast that came from the very depths of me. The vibration rippled through my entire body, shaking every scale, reverberating through the tunnel like an explosion of thunder.


    Roar.


    Everything froze. Every rat, every creeper, every last miserable creature was stunned by the sheer power of it. Except me. I wasn¡¯t about to sit on my laurels. While they stood there, dumbstruck, I zeroed in on the final creeper. Fire swelled in my throat, and I sent it forth with deadly precision. The flames enveloped the creature, its agonized flailing cut short as it was swiftly reduced to ashes.


    Job¡¯s a good¡¯un.


    [Flamethrower has reached level 2.]


    [You have slain a level 4 Umbrocephalus rapax (III).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Skill point(s) obtained: +1.]


    Ah, sweet, sweet progress! Too bad I couldn¡¯t stick around to loot their cores. The rats were shaking off the stun already, and two of them had crept up on my tail.


    Not today, you filthy things.


    I spread my wings, using the ceiling as a launch point, and Flight guided me into a downward glide. One of the rats still clung to my tail, teeth digging into my scales. I winced as I felt my scales harden instinctively, deflecting the worst of the damage. But I didn¡¯t slow down.


    I aimed for the vortex of airflow ahead, the one I had sensed but never seen until now.


    Tail Whip. Channeling strength into my tail, I swung it hard against the tunnel wall. The impact was devastating¡ªone rat was splattered instantly, a grotesque shower of blood and gore. The second rat was wounded, screeching as it fell away from me.


    It was done.


    Theory proved. I did bag the experience for those last hits¡ªlike a proper thief.


    Gaze shifted. Eyes locked onto the swirling vortex of air ahead. There it loomed. In the distance like the gaping mouth of an abyss.


    Leading deeper into the dungeon.

 Chapter 51: The Biome

    What on earth did I expect? Truth be told, I hadn¡¯t the foggiest.


    I let instinct have its merry way as I swooped into a graceful arc, wings slicing through the air. Was it my imagination, or were the hues becoming more garish the further I spiralled down? It was ¡­unsettling. There¡¯s something inherently disconcerting about plunging into a dungeon¡¯s bowels, but diving headfirst into a technicolour abyss? That¡¯s an entirely new flavour of discomfort.


    As dazzling as these hues were, they weren¡¯t exactly doing wonders for my vision. They appeared oddly blurred here, as if viewed through a misty lens. Still no sight of the bottom of this eccentric descent, and the occasional twist in the path kept whatever lay below conveniently hidden.


    Same dreary dungeon walls. How long had I been airborne? A minute, maybe? Yet something felt off¡ªthe deeper I plunged, the more alive I became. As if¡­ yes, as if this was my calling. To dive deeper. To grow stronger. And yet, a niggling part of me couldn¡¯t help but wonder. What was it about dungeons and depths that tugged at me so? Was it the promise of power, or something more base, more primal?


    It was strange, really. Shouldn¡¯t I be more at ease? A creature like me, reborn with this¡­ insatiable hunger for strength, ought to relish the plunge. Yet something about it gnawed at me, like a splinter in the mind. A warning, perhaps? Or maybe a faint echo of who I once was?


    I shook my head, dispelling the thoughts. No time for that sort of tomfoolery. The tunnel had dragged on long enough, and for the first time, something new caught my eye. I flared my wings, halting in mid-air.


    There it was¡ªa patch of tunnel swathed in flora.


    This was no ordinary flora, like not something I¡¯d ever witnessed aboveground. Thick, fleshy stems criss-crossed the walls, pulsating with hues of deep violet and neon green. The leaves were wide and spade-shaped, shimmering as though dusted with glowing spores. Clusters of flowers bloomed, their violet petals resembling fragile crystals.


    I flapped my wings gently, edging closer. Well, there was my first clue about what sort of strange biome awaited me below. The hues were at their brightest here, so much so that I had to squint, even shut my eyes for a moment, as they bordered on blinding.


    It was¡­ peculiar. I mean, flora usually needs sunlight, doesn¡¯t it? Then it struck me. Perhaps these hues had something to do with it. I¡¯d seen these hues in sap before, healing monsters. Maybe these plants weren¡¯t just glowing for show¡ªthey were feeding off the dungeon itself. These hues were keeping everything down here alive.


    The more I chewed it over, the more it all clicked. These hues brightened everything, seeping into the walls, the air, even the very stones underfoot. Perhaps they were the heartbeat of the dungeon, spawning creatures and sustaining life in this underground theatre. It wasn¡¯t just a cave¡ªit was a living, breathing ecosystem.


    My gaze sharpened as I plucked one of the glowing flowers, holding it up for a closer look. Really... it was rather fascinating. I flapped my wings gently, lifting myself above the dense, glowing patch to escape the overwhelming radiance. From up here, with the glow slightly muted, I could see it clearly. Yep, no doubt about it¡ªthese flowers pulsed with the same hues as that curious sap I¡¯d seen earlier.


    Curiosity piqued, I pondered, What exactly are these hues?


    My first guess had been mana, but no... no, that wasn¡¯t right. After honing my Mana Manipulation, I¡¯d become quite familiar with mana¡¯s subtle tingle, its energy coursing through me like a faint breeze. But these hues? They weren¡¯t that. Mana, for all its might, was invisible to the eye unless I was actively fiddling with it. These hues, on the other hand, were plain as day, glowing like there was no tomorrow. And oddly enough, they seemed confined to this dungeon and the moon. Definitely not mana. Something else entirely.


    The thought crossed my mind to ask Lotte, but knowing her, it was a coin toss whether I¡¯d get a straight answer. Half the time, she¡¯d give me a riddle more twisted than a pretzel. The other half? Stone-cold silence, especially if she deemed the information too dangerous for my delicate sensibilities.


    Tsk.


    No matter. I still had to delve deeper, but before that, I brought the flower to my snout, sniffing it cautiously. Without much further ado, I popped it into my mouth. Nom nom.


    Ugh! Bitter as sin.


    The taste lingered unpleasantly as I pulled up my stat screen. Mana Devourer was supposed to grant me a permanent boost in mana capacity when I consumed anything containing mana. Yet, this flower did nothing. Even though it clearly had some mana, it wasn¡¯t enough to make a dent.


    Perhaps there¡¯s a threshold? I mused. The monster cores I¡¯d devoured were chock-full of mana, far denser than anything I¡¯d found naturally. Even when refined into batteries, those cores lasted far longer than any man-made ones.


    Ah well, live and learn.


    With a flick of my wings, I carelessly tossed the flower¡¯s stem aside and swooped down once more, plunging deeper into the unknown abyss. Oddly enough, the descent took on a kind of tranquil charm as patches of flora began to cling to the jagged stone walls. Strange, wispy grasses bent and swayed in the faintest breeze, their shimmering blades gleaming with a kaleidoscope of colours. Dazzling crystalline flowers, almost offensively bright, sprouted from every crack and crevice, casting an ever-shifting, hypnotic light across the tunnel. It was¡­ disturbingly beautiful. Almost enchantingly so.


    Part of me had the wild urge to burn the lot of it. Set the whole tunnel alight in a glorious, blazing spectacle. Ha! What utter nonsense. I shook my head, dismissing the thought as the briefest flicker of madness. Why would I want to destroy something so strikingly beautiful? Didn¡¯t make a lick of sense.


    As I flew deeper, the tunnel began to shift. The raw, untamed stone walls gave way to something far more¡­ deliberate. At first, it was barely noticeable¡ªjust the faintest lines where there should have been none. Edges too smooth for nature¡¯s clumsy hand. My wings beat slower as curiosity gnawed at me. And then, there it was.


    Stairs.


    They spiralled downward, carved straight into the rock. Wide, shallow, and littered with those same radiant crystalline flowers, their surface worn by time but unmistakably crafted by someone with more than a passing acquaintance with architecture. I hovered for a moment, taking it all in. Who had built this? More importantly, why had they abandoned it?


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    The further I flew, the more obvious the signs became. Artificial tunnels branched off the main path, all half-finished and deserted. Rough, incomplete arches and scattered tools, rusted beyond recognition. Whatever had started here, it had been abandoned in a hurry.


    Elves, perhaps? It wouldn¡¯t be a stretch. Dungeons always had an artificial entrance, and maybe this was their doing¡ªan attempt to expand the depths. The first entrance had been back near that fortress. Maybe they stumbled upon another natural tunnel and thought they''d make something of it.


    But why stop? And why here?


    I couldn¡¯t help but curse my lack of research on dungeons. The moment I regained my humanoid form, I¡¯d make it my mission to dive into a library and learn every blasted thing I could about these strange places. There was too much I didn¡¯t know, and I didn¡¯t like it one bit.


    I continued downward. Yes, this place was abandoned¡ªleft in the midst of construction. But why? No bones, no bodies. No sign of conflict. Then again, this was a dungeon. Anything that had died here would¡¯ve been devoured, swallowed whole by the place itself.


    And then, at last, I saw it¡ªthe ground. The tunnel opened into a smooth, polished floor, immaculate compared to the rest of the dungeon. Definitely the handiwork of those elves. Strange carvings lined the walls, though their meaning escaped me.


    Whatever this place had once been, it was now left to rot, overgrown with flora.


    Ahead loomed a singular, colossal tunnel, with a few side passages branching off¡ªthough, I must say, they looked far too contrived for my liking. There was something decidedly off about them, so I paid them no mind and sauntered into the main thoroughfare. It was the one that led straight to the dungeon¡¯s core, after all.


    Peering my serpentine head from the tunnel¡¯s mouth, I halted in my tracks. Breath caught mid-gasp.


    "Thalador''s bushy beard! WHAT IN YOUR NAME IS THIS?!"


    Before me sprawled an underground forest, immense and seemingly endless. Crystalline trees towered above, their branches glistening in hues that descended like a fog. The air was practically saturated with luminescence¡ªthick enough to cut with a knife¡ªand even without those hues, I had no doubt the place would still glow like a bonfire in the pitch-black dark.


    The hues intensified as they climbed skyward, forming a prismatic blur over the treetops, making it an absolute chore to spot the ground from my lofty perch. Not that it was an easy feat anyway, what with me being about sixty feet up. There were steps in front of me¡ªwell, an attempt at steps, though like most things in this part, they were left half-finished.


    But why bother with steps when one can fly? Ah, the advantages of being a superior being in every conceivable way!


    Still, Thalador¡¯s beard, what in blazes was happening here? I¡¯d heard whispers of dungeons with whole ecosystems nestled deep inside, but this... I wasn¡¯t even that far down. Those tunnels I¡¯d passed? Mere breadcrumbs, trails leading to the dungeon¡¯s real start. This was the first true biome, a self-sustaining world unto itself, alive and teeming.


    Looking out over that vast expanse from on high... well, it took the wind right out of my sails.


    The thought of the countless creatures prowling below, lurking, hunting, growing stronger with each passing heartbeat, sent a delicious thrill through me. I wanted to dive right in, to sink my teeth into their flesh and revel in the carnage. Perhaps even¡ª


    SET EVERYTHING ABLAZE!


    Well, maybe not that. But the notion simmered beneath the surface. Weird.


    I¡¯d need to tread lightly, though. Elves were likely lurking below, delvers were where dungeon was, and who knows what else. And since this dungeon belonged to Lithrindel, Elves practically ran this sector of the dungeon. There was every chance I¡¯d stumble upon them¡ªor worse, those accursed cultists again, especially if my suspicions about their noble connections held water. Stealth was paramount.


    Before venturing further, I retreated once more. No one about. A quick check of the airflow confirmed those side tunnels were nothing but dead ends, so no nasty surprises lurking there. I still had a bit of time before plunging into the forest¡¯s depths, so why not hone my craft?


    Settling back on my haunches, I commenced another round of mana manipulation. I was brimming with mana, letting it flow through me, pulsing through my veins, and slowly expelling it from my claws. Routine now, but satisfying.


    Then, at precisely five mana, something shifted.


    [Mana Manipulation has reached level 2]


    Ah, splendid! Progress at last!


    I kept at it, pushing myself until only two mana remained¡ªjust in case some unwelcome guest popped by and I needed to roast a monster or two. Charred beasties are always tastier, after all. Heh. If only I had a pinch of seasoning to really do them justice.


    Ah yes, and now I had another skill point to play with! That made two¡ªhow terribly tempting. Who wouldn¡¯t want to add a shiny new trick to their arsenal? But alas, I was a pauper in the world of skill points. Advancing my current skills would probably give me more bang for my buck, but argh! It was frustrating! One point felt like nothing in the grand scheme of things, and advancing something like Mana Manipulation or Flamethrower would probably eat up more than I had.


    Still, I¡¯d had a stroke of luck earlier, dispatching four of those creepers in quick succession. Yet all I¡¯d earned for my trouble was one paltry level and a single skill point. Unfair, I say! I deserved more¡ªmuch more.


    Sigh. Perhaps I was overthinking it. Best to squirrel one point away for now. No sense squandering all my resources when the unknown loomed ahead in that sprawling, sinister underground forest. Still, if I spent just one, I could make a critical upgrade.


    I pulled up my stat screen and gave it a good hard stare.


    Name: Jade


    Level: 2


    Species: Voracious Manaweaver (Draconis) (III)


    Abilities: Mana Devourer


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 19


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 36


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 44


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 31


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 2/15


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 21/46


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Echo Claw Swipe: Level 1 (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Stealth: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Spectral Crunch: Level 1 (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Quick Dash: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flight: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Deep Breathing: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Air Sense: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Climb: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crush Claw: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flamethrower: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Manipulation: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Lightning Affinity: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes - Focusing Lenses, Peripheral Optimization (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws - Claw Flexibility, Razor-Edge Claws (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales - Colour Adaptation, Shock-Absorbent Scales (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings - Hollow Bones (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir, Mana Conservation (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac - Stamina Surge Reservoir (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Conduit Vasculature (I): +0


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 2


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 7


    </li>


    </ul>


    Time to think! Which of these beauties would give me the best bang for my buck?

 Chapter 52: Graceful Landing

    Ah, this decision was a tricky one, no doubt about it. I knew the third-tier advancement was where the real magic brewed. Spectral Crunch and Echo Claw ¨C both dazzlingly powerful. But alas, this was merely a second-tier choice, meaning whichever skill I picked now would be the first to cross into that tantalising third tier.


    Of course, I¡¯d upgrade the rest eventually, but I had to be strategic. Which of these darlings would I be using most often? Which had the best chance of rapid upgrades? Tail Whip ¨C serviceable, no complaints there. Roar, on the other hand, was deliciously tempting. Something about the way it rattled those revolting rat-critters to their very bones had me utterly intrigued. Oh, to witness its tier-three form! Scale Harden as the sturdy defensive choice ¨C can¡¯t argue with a bit of extra protection, can one?


    And then there was Quick Dash, Flight, Air Sense, Climb¡ªgahh!! Why was I cursed with so few skill points? Next time, I swear, I¡¯ll have my doppelganger whip me up a batch of skill point potions! Hah, calm yourself, Jade. Steady as she goes. For now, the wisest course might just be to opt for stealth. Yes, stealth ¨C a skill that would see far more frequent use, especially down in the depths where not just beasties, but delvers, prowl the dungeon for treasure.


    Always in Stealth Mode, always levelling it up. The most efficient choice for both present and future me, if I say so myself. And, if my calculations are right, this marks my evolution at level 20. Which means another sweet stash of 18 skill points, plus whatever strange techniques that mysterious system message hinted at. Something about merging skills when they reach certain conditions and mutations. I¡¯m itching to see how that unfolds.


    Right then! Stealth upgrade it is! Ah yiss, System ¨C hit me with those glorious upgrades! I could practically feel my scales tingling as I licked my chops in anticipation. Sneaky dragon mode, here we go! Let¡¯s see what marvellous choices this brings!


    Two options appeared before me...


    Choose one upgrade:


    [Silent Movement: Requires 1 SP. Refines user¡¯s physical movement, reducing noise to near silence. All actions, including movement across difficult terrain, are executed with minimal sound. Optimized for stealth, reconnaissance, and evasion without detectable auditory traces.]


    [Shadow Blur: Requires 1 SP. Enhances user¡¯s ability to merge with low-light environments. Generates subtle visual distortion, reducing detectability while in motion. Optimized for operations in dimly lit or shadowed areas.]


    Oh? I mulled it over like a cat at a cream-tasting party, both options for this tier 2 upgrade were, frankly, cracking good. Each had its merits, no doubt about that. So, which would prove more useful? I began mentally ticking off each feature, determined to make a rational choice. This wasn¡¯t about what was flash or sneaky-dragon cool¡ªthis was about survival, efficiency, and adaptability. Priorities, right?


    Silent Movement promised a rather... complete command over my physical presence. Seriously. Not a peep, not even the faintest scuffle would give me away. I''d be a wisp in the wind, perfect for sneaking up on prey or dodging dangerous predators. It worked everywhere¡ªover loose rocks, through dense underbrush, even when tiptoeing past over-enthusiastic delvers. Silence was its trump card, ideal for any scenario where a stray noise might spell doom. But sound wasn''t the only thing that could betray me. Oh no, there was scent, heat signatures, even mana trails now that I had magic under my belt. A whole bouquet of ways to be found.


    Then there was Shadow Blur, which was a different beast altogether. Not so much altering me as it was fiddling with how I meshed with the environment. I was surprised to see it pop up, honestly. It promised to cloak me, subtly distorting how I¡¯d be seen, but only in dim light or shadow. Now, the forest below might glow like a rainbow rave to me, thanks to those hues, but to others? It¡¯d be a shadowy murk with dim light with just those fluorescent trees, perfect for a sneaky creature like me. I¡¯d see them clear as day, but they? Not a chance. This upgrade would push my stealth game up a notch, adding that nifty distortion effect, even if I had to make a quick exit. The big drawback was light¡ªany strong illumination would render it useless. But honestly, down here, underground, bright lights weren''t exactly a concern.


    Hah! Both upgrades were tasty, but I had a soft spot. Shadow Blur promised to turn me into a ghost in the shadows, or something very close to it. A proper phantom dragon of the dark! Sneaky as sin.


    And, well, Lotte always told me never to let anyone know I was a dragon. Not that I thought your average bloke would know what a dragon even looked like¡ªhonestly, I barely did¡ªbut caution was king. Shadow Blur would help with that, blurring my appearance too.


    Decision made. Locked in and confirmed. And soon, a rush of new knowledge coursed through me.


    ***


    I thought I was in a hurry. Well, who was I fooling? Not really. No, the key here was preparation. Perfection, even. So there I was, tucked away in this little corner, fine-tuning my Mana Manipulation. Oh, I didn¡¯t just like it¡ªI loved it. Needed it. CRAVED it. That rush¡ªah, feel it¡ªmana surging through me.


    I sat, still as a statue, eyes wide, heart drumming. The mana? Oh, it burned. Alive, ravenous, thrumming through my veins. It didn¡¯t just want release¡ªit demanded it. Crackle. Twitch. Jolt. Yes. YES. Feel it. Let it flow? No. Bend it. Twist it to my will.


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    Surge. Throb. Burst. Too much? Ha! Not nearly enough! My fingers twitched, claws itching for more. Hold it. Release it. Again. And again. And AGAIN. It tore through me like fire¡ªno, lightning. Violent. Addictive. Unforgiving.


    Thalador, I could bloody taste it. Sweet, scorching power. I¡¯d longed for this, fought for it. Now, I owned it. Every nerve, every sinew tangled in its ferocity. Faster. Faster! Push it till it snaps!


    Mana veins? Forget that¡ªraging rivers, exploding inside me. Consume me.


    Every cell screamed. YES. More. MORE! MOOO¡ª


    [Mana Manipulation has reached level 3]


    Ahhh, yesss! Too easy! Soon to be Tier 2 without breaking a sweat. A quick glance at the stats and¡ªoh, brilliant. One mana left. Bloody hell, I¡¯d overdone it again. The rush was just too intoxicating, too deliciously addicting.


    But there was something else¡ªsubtle, but I felt it as I manipulated and expelled the mana. My affinity, creeping in. Also one more thing, The affinity was upgradable now, an exclusive skill, no less. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure how it worked, but I had a hunch¡ªchannel the lightning magic and it¡¯d level up on its own.


    The feeling though¡ªthat zipping sensation in my nerves¡ªdifferent. Faster. Wilder. Lightning magic wasn¡¯t for the faint of heart. It was volatile, much harder to control, they said, but therein lay the thrill. And I was more than ready to bend it to my will.


    I rammed the mana through my veins, that electric hum sparking beneath my skin like a live wire. This wasn¡¯t the usual soft, steady mana flow¡ªoh no, this was sharper, quicker, angry as hell. Pure, unfiltered lightning magic. Unpredictable. But I¡¯d handle it. I would handle it.


    With a breath, I shoved it forward.


    The mana shot through me, faster and faster, like it had somewhere to be. Too fast. My fingers twitched, claws all but begging to tear free, but I held back¡ªbarely.


    Focus, damn it.


    Streamline it. I crushed the surge, forcing it into a thin, deadly line straight to my claws. My arm jerked¡ªtwitching, ready to tear loose.


    Control.


    I exhaled, slow and steady. The mana coiled behind my fingertips, vibrating against my skin like it couldn¡¯t wait to burst out. Then¡ªsnap!¡ªI let it go.


    Puff.


    The air crackled, little arcs of electricity dancing from my claws. Not a spell¡ªnot yet. Just raw lightning mana, unleashed in a flash. Bright. Brief. Gone.


    Hah. I was on the right track. Soon, I¡¯d bend this lightning to my will, launching spells like there was no tomorrow. But for now? Too drained.


    One more round of mana recovery, and I¡¯d be ready. Ready to descend into that damned forest below.


    ***


    I was in the midst of replenishing my mana when an odd noise tickled my ears. What now? My eyes snapped open, not from sleep but from the briefest of reprieves. Stealth instinctively engaged, and I slunk back, pressing myself against the wall like some cornered beast. There it was again. From¡­ above me? Bloody hell, was something crawling down? Please don¡¯t be those verminous rats again. I glanced upward.


    The silhouettes were hazy, but the shape was unmistakable¡ªhands, clutching some sort of tool that gouged into the rock as they descended, quick as a pack of rabid dogs. Humanoid. That incessant click as their gear bit into the tunnel wall... They were moving with alarming speed. Elves. I blinked. Elves??


    As if the system took glee in my shock, it chimed in with its ever-enthusiastic sadism:


    Mission Alert!


    Ah, look at that¡ªelves. Fancy that! What are they up to, hmm?


    Objective: ELF ERADICATION


    Task: Annihilate every thieving wretch descending upon you! BRUTALLY MURDER THEM!!


    Reward: Permanent +2 to all stats, +1 technique recipe. The more creative the agony, the higher the chance of bonus rewards!


    Progress: 0/9


    Penalty: None.


    Accept: Y/N?


    The system''s thirst for bloodshed was practically infectious. Was it just me, or did it get more gleeful when serving up these delightful "eradication" missions? Anyway, 9 elves, huh? Seemed like the reconnaissance team had arrived faster than expected. Typical. I hadn¡¯t a bloody clue what their power levels were, and frankly, I wasn¡¯t in the mood for a toe-to-toe scrap. Besides, I wasn¡¯t exactly a powerhouse right now. Sod that! I legged it.


    Two Quick Dashes and I darted beneath them like a phantom, nothing but a blur in the dim light of those glowing crystal flowers. Even if one of those elven bastards above spotted me, I¡¯d just be a shadow thanks to my upgraded stealth. A quick leap over the half-constructed stairs, and there I was, standing at the edge again. Damn it. I could have used a bit more prep time before heading deeper, but the gods of misfortune had other plans.


    I spread my wings and, without a second thought, hurled myself off the edge. My form blurred as I dropped, the dim light shrouding my descent like a shadow slipping through the cracks. I could see the faint distortion from my wings as I glided¡ªdamn, it looked slick. My descent was controlled, precise. The wingflaps angled perfectly to adjust my velocity, keeping me stable. With each slight adjustment of my wings, I manipulated air currents, maintaining a streamlined fall. A few beats here, a correction there. Smooth.


    As I glided, my serpentine neck craned to take in the sprawling scene below. Twisted bioluminescent trees, their white barks shimmering, oversized fungi glowing like lanterns in the dark, and a thick carpet of alien flora stretched out beneath me. The whole biome pulsed with a spectrum of colours¡ªvibrant hues only visible to my vision. It was massive. Even with enhanced eyes, the place felt endless, an eerie beauty cloaked in its bizarre splendour.


    I was nearing the ground now¡ªgliding always felt quicker than flying upwards. Spying a large, sturdy-looking tree, I prepared to land. No sense touching down on the forest floor just yet¡ªbetter to scout from the safety of the trees. I reached out for a branch, purple leaves glowing beneath me, and grasped it with my claws¡­


    ¡­and tore through the branch like it was made of paper. AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!


    Down I went, crashing through a tangled web of branches before hitting the ground with an almighty thud.


    FUCK!


    Right, note to self: work on tree landings! I¡¯d been so caught up in the sheer joy of flight, I forgot that my claws had been upgraded. What was I thinking? Claw Swipe instead of Climb¡ªhah! But hey, at least there wasn¡¯t an audience to witness that pathetic display! Probably. Still, I¡¯d have to nail those landings sooner or later.


    With my pride a little bruised, I gave the place another look. By the holy beard of Thalador, it was even more stunning up close. The trees, with their pale bark and glowing purple leaves, the vibrant bushes speckled with neon flowers, the fungi¡­ it was all so surreal. I bet this forest was brimming with alchemical ingredients. Someday, I¡¯d be brewing potions down here for sure. But not today.


    Focus. I latched onto another tree, letting Climb guide my claws this time. No more tomfoolery. I scaled it quickly, reaching the top in no time. Squinting up at the hole I¡¯d dropped from, it didn¡¯t seem that far now, maybe 60 feet or so above. Funny how small it looked compared to the vastness of the forest around me.


    And what were those damn elves up to?

 Chapter 53: A Wounded Abomination

    The view was plain as day. I could see their shadows, huddled up there like a gaggle of suspicious rats. Fiddling about with some contraption. One of them¡ªusing those absurd climbing gizmos¡ªscaled the top and hacked away at an upper section of the blasted hole, while two others scrabbled about below like burrowing moles. There was a quick flash of white, a flicker of something settling, and then¡­ what? Nothing. Absolutely bugger all. Whatever was happening inside that little crevice, it was beyond my vision, and frankly, beyond my care. Unless they were cooking up some scheme aimed directly at me, I had no reason to give a fuck.


    Besides, who knows how many monstrosities were crawling around down here? It wasn¡¯t like I was the only target. And let¡¯s not forget the droves of delvers, all clambering to slay the said monsters, plunder the dungeon¡¯s treasures, or boost their power by advancing their paths. They all had their lofty ambitions, and none of it was my problem.


    I had enough on my plate as it was without worrying about what those nosy sods investigating the Barn and Queen incident were poking at.


    And speaking of plates, I had hunting to do! Grinning like a maniac, with my smile stretched so far I could nearly taste my own ears, I dug my claws into the bark of the tree and slithered down with all the grace of a predator. I needed more mana, more cores to devour, and another evolution to achieve¡ªuntil, at long last, I could reclaim my humanoid form. Then, dear father would get a little visit, and Jord? Oh, he¡¯d receive precisely what was coming to him.


    There was no time for loitering about! The moment my claws hit the ground, though, I was once again slapped by the sheer stupid vastness of this forest. It felt like I¡¯d wandered into an entirely different world. Everything around me was glowing: the trees, the leaves, even the ruddy grass and fungi seemed to shimmer with an eerie crystalline light. And those hues¡ªdancing, flickering, far more vibrant in this part of the dungeon.


    Fortunately, thanks to my upgraded eyes, the glowing wasn¡¯t the painful nuisance it had been when I¡¯d first started out.


    I paused, taking a deep breath, letting it sink in. Ah, yes. I kind of loved it here! The forest felt¡­ alive. Or was it? Well, only one way for a curious dragon like myself to find out.


    With a cheeky hop, I bounced over to a nearby bush. Gorgeous thing! I poked it eagerly with my claw, half expecting some reaction, but nothing. Hmm. Sniffed it. Seemed harmless enough, so naturally, I took a nibble. Not bad.


    Moving on, my eyes locked onto a patch of faintly glowing fungi scattered about like tiny clusters of shimmering crystals. They looked plump. Almost¡­ edible. Almost. I crouched down, prodded one with a claw. Soft, squishy. The kind of texture that begs to be tasted.


    Before I knew it, I¡¯d taken a bite.


    Surprisingly delicious! Soft, fibrous, with a spicy little kick. Tangy around the edges, the flavor grew richer as I chewed¡ªwarmth spreading through my mouth. A delightful tease to my taste buds, each bite sending a pulse of heat. Satisfying, unexpectedly so.


    A wicked idea crossed my mind. With a smirk, I channelled a touch of mana into my fire gland and let loose a quick blast of flame at the fungi. Singed them to a crisp. Whoops. Meant to roast, not char, but what¡¯s done is done. I tore one of the blackened remains open, its soft insides still intact. Took a bite.


    Not half bad.


    Still, it couldn¡¯t hold a candle to monster flesh. There was something about it¡ªthe richness, the raw power it held. My mouth watered at the thought. Soon. Soon, I¡¯d sink my teeth into something truly satisfying.


    I took a breath, gritted my teeth, and scaled the tree once more, eyes sweeping the terrain. There it was¡ªthe cavern wall, just visible in the distance. Closest one. The edge of the forest. Damn near there. Made sense to stick to the perimeter, keep my back to something solid. Getting caught dead-centre, exposed to all angles? Only an idiot would play that game. I wasn¡¯t here to play stupid games or win stupid prizes.


    Tactically, it was the cleverer option¡ªbetter sightlines, fewer ambush points, and a quicker exit if things went pear-shaped. And let¡¯s be honest, if there were elves lurking about, they¡¯d likely outclass me in every single way. No point in poking that hornet¡¯s nest. Better to slip by unnoticed, stay on track, live to see another day. Sliding down the tree, I set off in silence, my Shadow Blur leaving nothing but a whisper of a flicker in my wake.


    Minutes passed. The wall loomed closer, but something didn¡¯t sit right. Not a single monster in sight. It was too quiet, and that never bodes well. Just as my nerves began to prickle¡ª


    SHHHHAAAAAA!


    The hiss¡ªguttural and sharp¡ªalmost had me leaping out of my own skin. Muscles coiled tight, claws dug into the dirt as I froze. It wasn¡¯t right on me, but it was close. And there were more than one. Bloody brilliant.


    I stole a glance at the wall in the distance, then towards the source of that infernal racket. My eyes narrowed. After a beat, I veered left, claws hitting the ground with purpose. I wasn¡¯t here to cower and play hide-and-seek¡ªI came to hunt. Time to see what I was up against.


    The clearing unfurled before me, and in the middle of it all... coiled, writhing... Scales. White. Massive. Twisted in a knot of grotesque muscle and sheer size. A bloody great snake. No, scratch that¡ªfucking colossal.


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    The beast was a mess, its body carved up like a butcher¡¯s prized cut. Blood poured from deep gouges, thick and sluggish, but it still had some fight left. Just barely.


    And there, swooping and darting like vultures¡ªno, worse¡ªflying snakes. You¡¯ve got to be kidding me. Ten, maybe more. A pack of them, smaller than the titan they circled but still hefty enough to cause some real damage. Their feathered bodies gleamed in the dim light, wings shimmering as they sliced through the air, each attack leaving the giant more mangled than before.


    Hiss. Another strike. The beast recoiled, but it was over. The pack was ruthless, closing in, shredding it bit by bit.


    Then it collapsed.


    THUD.


    Like a pack of feral dogs, they swarmed. No hesitation, no mercy¡ªjust a frenzy of teeth and scales, tearing into flesh like it was their last meal. Hisses echoed, almost jubilant, like a sick celebration.


    Only then did I notice... its eyes. Still moving. Still alive. The massive snake wasn¡¯t dead, but the hunters didn¡¯t care. They dug in anyway, feasting, pulling chunks from its still-breathing form.


    Fucking hell.


    A grotesque sight. It made my stomach churn and my claws itch at the same time. This dungeon was pure madness. I wasn¡¯t about to stick around for dessert. I activated stealth, my form blurring as I slipped back, carefully retreating. No way in hell was I interested in being a dragon-flavored side dish. Not today, not ever.


    But¡­ instead of fear, something else washed over me. A wave of ecstasy. Weird. Almost wrong. Where did it come from? The scene wasn¡¯t a proper hunt¡ªthe prey wasn¡¯t dead¡ªbut the raw savagery, the brutality of it, stirred something deep within me.


    I shook it off. Focus.


    I moved toward the wall again, this time making it. Finally. Hah, maybe I was being a little overconfident. Just a little. But I was a master at escaping. If I saw a fight I couldn¡¯t win, I¡¯d leg it without a second thought.


    That snake... ungodly massive. How much morphogen was that thing worth? Definitely stage five, maybe even higher. Yet the moment it revealed itself, death rained down on it from above. I couldn¡¯t help but let my mind race, running simulations. What would I do to avoid such a fate?


    Every scenario seemed worse than the next.


    Eep. Time to stop thinking.


    Those flying serpents¡ªruthless pack hunters, efficient as hell. A challenge? Sure. One I liked my odds against? Not a chance. A duel? Hah, not likely. They didn¡¯t seem like the sort to honor a one-on-one.


    I steeled myself. I had to find something I could actually beat. The monsters here were stronger, but I couldn¡¯t back down now. I had to hunt. I had to grow.


    Stealth still engaged, I hugged the wall, eyes sharp, claws ready. Always on the lookout for something I could take down. Or anything else that might catch my interest.


    Moving cautiously amongst the dense, glowing foliage, the trees looming overhead, I almost felt like I was on the surface. The rock ceiling above was so distant, obscured by the shifting hues, that it might as well not exist from here. The more I took in this strange forest, the more it messed with my head. How could any of this survive without sunlight?


    A whisper from my memories, fragmented from a long-forgotten dream, tugged at my mind. Photosynthesis¡ªplants needed light to produce energy. But these trees, they thrived here without a sun. It didn¡¯t make sense. I sharpened the thought, focused. Perhaps these hues emitted a form of energy, substituting for sunlight. Energy transfer¡ªlike a bioluminescent adaptation, compensating for the absence of direct solar radiation. But that would require... huh? Perhaps trees were absorbing ambient energy from the hues, converting it into something usable for survival. Possible. But still, it didn¡¯t fully explain the complexity of this ecosystem. Were these hues some form of radiation? Some underground source? Or maybe something even stranger than my wildest guesswork.


    Whatever the devil these hues were, they had their grubby fingerprints all over this dungeon. Every peculiar happening, every oddity could be traced right back to them.


    Flora monsters probably skulked around here too. Maybe even some tasty mushroom monstrosities. I wiped my mouth¡ªdamn it, drooling again.


    I stopped, letting the airflow settle. It was different here from the tunnels¡ªless cramped, more fluid. I focused on it. The airflow told stories, just like before, only this time the trees and obstacles whispered secrets about hidden creatures. Subtle shifts in the air, tiny hints of movement¡ªclues that something lurked just out of sight. It was working, but not as sharp as I¡¯d like. Another skill point, a few levels, and I¡¯d have it honed to perfection. Ugh, progress is slow.


    And then, I felt it¡ªa faint shift ahead. Something had nudged the air in that direction. Not natural, not like the wind. Maybe another beastie scrap. Only one way to find out. I crouched low, using the dense brush for cover, and began creeping towards the source. Kept myself tight to the wall, making a wide arc¡ªno need to put my neck out, just yet.


    In a hellhole like this, information was worth its weight in gold¡ªnay, diamonds. Charging headlong into the unknown? Well, that¡¯s the kind of nonsense fit only for an idiot. With my upgraded eyes scanning the forest and ears pricked for the faintest murmur, I crept closer to the earlier disturbance, inch by painful inch.


    [Shadow Blur (II) has reached level 2]


    Wait, what?! I stopped dead in my tracks, head snapping round, every nerve on high alert. Had I just dodged a predator? My stealth leveled up that fast? Clearly, I was onto something. I kept still, checked the airflow again¡ªkeen to make sure I wasn¡¯t about to get ambushed.


    Nothing around. Not even that disturbance I felt earlier. None. Vanished like a whisper on the wind. Perhaps it was indeed a scuffle I¡¯d sensed, some fleeting skirmish deep in the woods. There was still a mountain of mystery around how the airflow worked here, and how my skill tied into it. But for now, no immediate threat. Not that it meant I could afford to relax.


    Still crouched, senses razor-sharp, I pressed forward. Then, I saw it.


    A hulking beast of a thing¡ªvaguely familiar, like those creepers, only larger and uglier. Two extra tentacle-like limbs dangled from its bulk, and it looked every bit as tough as it was hideous. But seriously, why the hell were there so many of these abominations lurking about?!?


    Truth be told, these creepers still gave me the shivers. I¡¯ll never forget that first encounter¡ªme and Stephan hiding, watching one of the less evolved versions of this freak gulp down a whole spider colony. I was bricking it. And then it chased me. I bloody hate these wretched things.


    But this one? This one was in a bad way.


    Seriously wounded. One arm limp, another tentacle shredded, hanging by a thread. Black ichor dripping like some foul ooze from its torn-up body. Its exoskeleton? Looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.


    I stared at the creature for a moment, a thought creeping into my head. I knew it was more evolved¡ªstage 4, no doubt.


    But¡­ could I take it down?

 Chapter 54: Fiery Hunt

    I had to make a decision, and fast. Much as I loathed these vile creepers, was I truly about to hurl myself headlong into a death wish against a higher stage beast? Normally, not a bloody chance! I was quite content where I was, thank you very much. Plenty of monsters my own level to deal with, and they usually fell with the grace of a collapsing deckchair. Simple stuff.


    At least, that¡¯s how I felt. But right now? Well, things weren¡¯t exactly normal, were they? The hideous thing in front of me was already half-done for, leaking foul-smelling ichor from its tattered flesh, limping like an injured dog. The real question wasn¡¯t whether I¡¯d go for it, but how I¡¯d go for it. A plan began to brew as I eyed that gaping wound. My eyes flicked to the forest surroundings.


    Yes, this could work. And if it all went pear-shaped, I could always bolt¡ªthere¡¯s no way the lumbering lump of meat could give chase in its sorry state.


    One look at my stats told me I had 13 mana left out of 15. Should be enough. I quickly funneled four points into my fire gland, filling it up nicely. Four shots of flame, just enough. Flamethrower was by far my most potent weapon¡ªlikely because my fire gland had hit tier three. My gaze locked on to the torn flesh on the creature¡¯s side. Perfect. I just needed to get a little closer¡­ a bit more¡­


    NOW!


    The instant it stepped within range, I let loose a searing torrent of flame, aiming directly for its festering wound. The fire snaked its way inside, scorching its guts from within. HAH! The beast howled, thrashing wildly, its one intact tentacle whipping about like a maddened snake. Then, its eyeless, gruesome face swivelled towards me, mouth agape with rows of gnashing, gleaming teeth.


    Welp, that might¡¯ve been a mistake. Note to self: there should be a monster manual rule¡ªnever make eye contact with something that spits fire.


    Gah! HAVE ANOTHER FLAMETHROWER, YOU FILTHY SACK OF DISEASE! The beast shrieked as the flames poured from my maw. Despite its injuries, the bastard darted sideways with a surprising burst of agility. I¡¯ll give it that, it had some nerve. But my fire wasn¡¯t that easy to shake off. Flamethrower instinctively guided me to the right angle, and I leapt back, maintaining the fiery onslaught, now roasting another one of its festering wounds.


    With its face and mouth charred, flesh hanging in tatters, it was well on its way to having the worst day of its miserable life. Good riddance. I¡¯ve always hated its kind.


    I kept the inferno going, each precious drop of mana extending the torrent of flames by nearly five seconds. Doesn¡¯t sound like much, but in the heat of battle, those seconds are golden. Four charges meant I could keep this up for close to 20 seconds¡ªplenty of time to turn the wretched thing into a walking bonfire. If I wanted, I could even cut one stream short and bank the remaining seconds for later. Yes, I¡¯d been crunching the numbers on this little trick since the day I got it.


    So, there I was, on my third charge when the beast finally figured out who was cooking it alive. Tough thing, of course, it was stage 4 for a reason. And, of course, it charged straight at me. Typical. I wasn¡¯t even remotely surprised. A quick burst of Quick Dash¡ªthree in a row¡ªand I was out of its path in moments. The hulking brute pounced where I¡¯d been, claws shredding the landscape like some unholy blender. Great holy Thalador! If I¡¯d been a second slower, I¡¯d have been reduced to bloody ribbons. What happened to being an ambush predator? That swipe had enough force to cleave through a house!


    Focus, Jade, focus. No getting cocky. Charging three more mana points into my fire gland, I primed another round of fiery torment for this abomination. It looked around, its eyeless face searching the forest before locking onto me again. I braced for another charge, but¡­ nothing. It hesitated. And then, just like that, it slunk back and¡ªpoof¡ªvanished.


    ¡­


    Oh¡­


    oh-ho-ho.


    Hehehehehe.


    HAHAHAHAHA!


    Oh, what a joke! These sneaky little shits, always thinking their cheap illusion tricks can outsmart me. Of course it had magic¡ªit¡¯s what happens when these things evolve. Perfect sense for an ambush predator. But here¡¯s the thing¡ªthose pesky hues in my vision? Ahh, they were singing, showing me exactly where this creature wasn''t. The hues avoided it like the plague, giving away its position. Not today, you sneaky bastard.


    Its stealth was impressive, I¡¯ll admit. It circled behind the trees, a blur of movement where the hues wouldn¡¯t touch. But I¡¯d already lined up my next move¡ªflamethrower ready, and I let rip, channeling a stream of fire straight at the creature¡¯s nasty mug. Hello, disgusting thing. Care for a roast?


    To its credit, it must¡¯ve guessed I was onto it, judging by the tilt of my head. It broke stealth and darted sideways, but the flames were relentless. If it hadn¡¯t been so grievously injured, it might¡¯ve dodged entirely. But no, its movements were sluggish, its body refusing to cooperate. Good. That was all I needed to see¡ªmy confidence spiked. Its fancy illusion magic was utterly useless against me now, and I had a few more tricks up my sleeve. My wings itched with anticipation, but I wasn¡¯t ready to use them just yet. No, flight would stay tucked away, my trump card.


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    Another round of Quick Dashes and I was off, putting some much-needed distance between us, just enough to line up another fiery barrage. The beast, clever sod, dodged right, but my flames were relentless, searing into its already scorched, torn flesh. It was having a truly dreadful day.


    I kept moving, the wretched creature frantically scrabbling, trying to close the gap out of sheer desperation. One swipe from those claws, and I''d be minced meat¡ªand it bloody well knew it. Yet, despite all the damage, it still had the nerve to craft a cunning little plan. These creepers¡ªfearsome lineage, indeed.


    And slyly, it was closing in. Bit by bit. Tree behind me. Oh, bloody hell. The creeper lunged, legs moving before I could even think. Quick Dash shot me sideways, just in time to dodge its gleaming claws. But the tree? Oh, that poor bastard got shredded to splinters. Came down with a crash.


    It growled, absolutely refusing to let me make another inch of space. I''d have loved to fly off, but let¡¯s be honest, I¡¯m leagues more nimble on the ground. If it jumped with that same mad haste, I knew I was in deep trouble.


    FOCUS, YOU FOOL!


    Fire gland fully charged¡ªthree more points spent, three more left. Right, flamethrower¡¯s the ticket. I locked on. The creeper wasn''t slowing, its ferocious momentum mounting with every relentless swipe. Another downward arc of claws from the right¡ªhead left, Quick Dash, more distance, rinse, repeat. But there it was, another claw right on me.


    Bollocks! It was reading me like a book. And with those monstrous limbs, it was set to catch me good and proper. Quick Dash has a one-second cooldown, and I didn¡¯t have time to faff about.


    But no panic. It was expecting me to dodge. So, why not give it a little twist?


    When its claws came, I dodged, Quick Dash again¡ªonly this time, I didn''t go sideways. I shot straight forward.


    It angled its grotesque head, clearly baffled as I appeared right in front of its disgusting, eyeless mug.


    [Echo Claw].


    My claw connected with its face, shredding its burnt maw as a scream tore through the air. The echo deepened the gash, ripping its mouth clean in half. It toppled sideways, bellowing in agony. But before it could even blink, I was gone¡ªthanks to a flurry of Quick Dashes, far out of range.


    Just in time too. A massive tentacle slammed into the ground where I''d been a moment earlier, gouging the earth. Blimey, that thing was sharp. If I¡¯d been a second slower, I¡¯d be skewered for sure.


    But now the brute was down, my chance had come. It wouldn''t be pouncing at me again, not this time! I let my wings unfurl, soaring to the treetops, before unleashing another blistering inferno straight above its thick skull. And, for good measure, I aimed a fresh blast at its already mangled gut. BURN, YOU VILE CREATURE!


    [Flamethrower has reached level 3]


    Oh, smashing, right on time!


    The beast bellowed in torment, thrashing on the ground, desperate to rid itself of the fire''s relentless fury. But no, it wouldn¡¯t be wriggling free. I held the flames steady, the second wave of scorching fury in full swing. And for good measure¡ªthird charge engaged. It made a pathetic attempt to flee, but the creature was spent, collapsing in a heap. HELL YES! I snarled, letting loose yet another torrent, flames greedily consuming the beast.


    What I didn¡¯t expect, though, was the glint of another claw cutting through the flames. Wait.. what in the bloody hell...? How¡­ My brain went into overdrive as I desperately swerved. No Quick Dash in mid-air, though. The damn thing feigned its own collapse to lure me in. Clever piece of shite.


    Too late to think now¡ªone of its claws raked through my stomach. Felt my scales harden, but that wasn¡¯t enough. The claws tore through them like parchment, and I screamed as the sheer force of the blow hurled me sideways. I crashed into the trees with a bone-rattling thud.


    Vision swam, but the pain and pure adrenaline yanked me back to reality. Gritting my teeth, I knew this thing was suffering worse than I was. A mere slash wouldn¡¯t take me down. Struggling, I rose onto my claws, eyes locked on its crippled form. Through the trees, it crawled¡ªdesperate, broken, but still clinging to some idiotic hope of survival.


    Not today.


    Hatred burned hot inside me as I lunged. Quick Dashes carried me closer, claws humming with power as I charged them with every last drop of stamina. I slashed through its legs first, each swipe leaving deep, vicious gashes, with the echoes following and digging deeper still. Let¡¯s see how it plans to lunge with no legs. It howled, thrashing as it tried to drag itself away, but I was having none of it. A tentacle lashed out¡ªbig mistake. With teeth bared, I clamped down, hard.


    [Spectral Crunch]


    Already wounded, was it? Well, I bit down on the same spot, and Spectral Crunch tore into the injury, ripping it wide open. The beast went limp, and I could taste the moment it knew¡ªthis was the end. But no, I wasn¡¯t done yet.


    Its pitiful howls filled the air as I lashed out with more Echo Claws, vicious, wild strikes hammering at its limbs. Each blow targeted joints, locking it down, stripping away any hope of escape. The burns from the relentless flamethrowers, the damage I¡¯d already done¡ªit all piled up. It staggered, trying to rise on its hind legs, but NOT ON MY BLOODY WATCH!


    I bit down again, claws shredding wildly, sapping my stamina but widening its wounds. Its fight ebbed away, crumbling beneath me. But I didn¡¯t stop. Didn¡¯t falter. Claw. Bite. Claw. Bite. Claw. Bite.


    I ripped it apart, tearing chunk after chunk, until bones gleamed through the carnage. Even then, I didn¡¯t stop. I shredded it to pieces, and only when that familiar chime rang in my mind did I finally relent.


    [You have slain a Level 24 Umbrocephalus Rapax Carnifex (IV).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Skill point(s) obtained: +3.]


    Took me a while to settle my frenzy. I glanced down at myself¡ªdrenched in that foul black ichor, properly looking like something out of a nightmare. Before I could even think, it surged up my throat, and I unleashed a ROAR of triumph. Loud, proud...and then cut short by a sharp twinge of pain in my sides.


    Adrenaline fading, I had a good look at the state I was in¡ªone hind leg feeling numb, a nice, deep set of claw marks running down my flank. Not exactly the clean hunt I was hoping for.


    Still, the victory buzzed through me. Ha! I¡¯d bested the damned thing! Even though it nearly had me in those final moments. Bloody menace it was, even after I¡¯d burned it to crisp. I had one charge of flamethrower left, but when I glanced at my stats, I was knackered. 3 mana? 2 stamina? You¡¯ve got to be joking!


    Even time wasn¡¯t on my side. Actually... still isn¡¯t. It reminded me I hadn¡¯t used that stamina surge from the Macro-Trophic Sac upgrade yet. Focused on it, and just like that, a fresh burst of energy. Stat screen showed stamina bumped to a modest 7 points.


    Decent. But more important matters¡ªhealing and rest. Luckily, with the sac offering both stamina and healing through consumption, the answer was staring me right in the face.


    So, without any more hesitation, I bared my fangs and dug in.

 Chapter 55: Moment of Respite

    I had made quick work of the beast, tearing off hefty slabs of meat, barely giving myself time to chew before swallowing it down. No time for pleasantries¡ªand by the gods, Thalador¡¯s beard¡ªit was exquisite. The higher the monster''s rank, the finer the flavour, I was certain of it. Another bite, and even that vile black ichor gushing from its wounds was bloody sweet and dripping with flavour.


    What caught my eye was how fast my wounds closed up as I devoured it. A few chomps and the slash across my side vanished, leaving naught but a faint scar. Another mouthful, and my scales began knitting back together. Stamina surged like a madman, climbing higher and higher until it capped. I wasn¡¯t even halfway through my feast, and I was already fit for another fight¡ªphysically, at least. No doubt about it, this hunger evolution malarkey was a cut above in a place like this.


    Then, when my stamina maxed out, the overflow went straight into the Stamina Surge Reservoir. I could feel that filling up nicely too. Last time, it hadn¡¯t even been half full, but now, I¡¯d get more than a measly 5 SP when I used it. After devouring the scattered guts and leaving naught but bones and a toxic-looking tentacle¡ªand the tongue, which I only just noticed had been severed¡ªit seemed whatever had slashed this thing left a hell of a mark. Then came that oh-so-familiar ding in my head.


    [Morphogen source assimilated.]


    [Morphogens acquired: +12.]


    Ahh, sweet morphogens, how I adored thee! Wait, what? I¡¯d expected six from something a tier above me. Where in the devil did twelve come from? No matter! Who was I to argue with a bonus? If the system was feeling generous, I¡¯d gladly take its errors with open arms.


    Only one task remained. I eyed the black orb of swirling darkness lying before me, larger than the usual ones. This monster¡¯s core wasn¡¯t playing games¡ªabout the size of a small ball rather than a marble. Without hesitation, I snatched it up, popped it in my gob, and felt a zap as it dissolved on my tongue. A quick glance at my stats¡ªmana up by six points! Now sitting at a neat 21.


    Couple that with the morphogens, three shiny skill points, and the bonus stats from those levels¡ªbloody hell, what a haul!


    I halted, scanning the air for any signs of tomfoolery. Something could be lurking, poised to strike while I basked in my well-earned spoils. After all, a lone beast lounging on a massive carcass? That¡¯s practically ringing the dinner bell for every scavenger and predator within earshot. But thanks be to Thalador, everything seemed peachy.


    Welp, job¡¯s a good ¡¯un. I slinked off, quiet as a church mouse. The longer I lingered, the more antsy I became. Physically, I was ready for another round, but tempting fate wasn¡¯t on my agenda. Plus, my mana reserves were rather¡­ dry at the moment. That reminded me¡ªI still had that shiny new skill waiting. With those fresh points, I could finally snag it. But priorities first.


    After putting a bit of distance between me and the carnage, I scanned the glowing forest. Hah, now to find a place to rest, recharge, and have a think about my next moves. That sap tunnel from earlier had been a godsend, but out here in this wild, glowing thicket? I needed something a bit safer.


    With stealth still active, I drifted through the bioluminescent foliage, not sure what exactly I was seeking¡ªjust¡­ somewhere to hole up. Somewhere safe. Perhaps even a chance to chat with Lotte, if I fancied a nap.


    After some wandering, I stumbled across a snug little nook beneath a tree¡ªit¡¯d do. It looked natural, even inviting, but I wasn¡¯t about to dive in without checking. I unleashed a quick burst of flame, torching the interior to smoke out any potential squatters.


    Good. All clear.


    It wasn¡¯t much, but it¡¯d house me, and with a bit of elbow grease, I could make it proper snug. I slashed at some nearby branches and shrubs, dragging them over the entrance for a quick bit of camouflage. Not perfect, but it¡¯d keep the riff-raff out for now. I shuffled inside, slightly disturbing my cover, but I fixed it from the inside.


    Not half bad.


    I curled up, finally exhaling. The earlier fight¡¯s adrenaline still buzzed through me, making it hard to properly unwind. That monster had been a whole stage above me¡ªan absolute brute. If it hadn¡¯t been wounded, I probably would¡¯ve been nothing more than a decorative smear.


    And yet, even in its final throes, it tried to sucker-punch me. That¡¯s the nasty bit about higher-stage creatures. But there was something else¡­ something exhilarating. The fight had been real, and a bitter part of me resented that it hadn¡¯t been at full strength. I smacked that thought down quickly¡ªthe dragon in me was clearly bonkers. Facing that thing at its peak? Have I lost my marbles?


    Still¡­ the battle''s rush clung to me, burning on my tongue like hot whisky. I could see why dungeon delvers teamed up and kept going deeper, chasing stronger monsters. The thrill¡ªthe pure, raw edge of life and death¡ªit was ¡­addictive.


    Let¡¯s just hope I don¡¯t get hooked.


    I shook my head, refusing to let the thrill seize me by the throat. As tempting as it was, I wasn¡¯t about to let this intoxicating rush make me think I could charge headfirst into battles with creatures far beyond my station. Sure, this creeper was a lucky fluke, already on its last legs, but I wasn¡¯t about to let one easy win puff up my ego. Not the way.


    One thing was certain, though¡ªI wasn¡¯t some weakling. Most monsters at my level would struggle to keep up. With tier-three organs, I had a leg up, but I¡¯d be daft to throw myself at beasts outside my range. No sense letting a bit of adrenaline steer me into tomfoolery.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Right then, onto more important matters¡ªtime to cash in on the spoils!


    System! Get your lazy arse over here! Finally got enough to snag a new skill and give another a well-deserved upgrade. My stats blinked into view:


    Name: Jade


    Level: 5


    Species: Voracious Manaweaver (Draconis) (III)


    Abilities: Mana Devourer


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 25


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 42


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 50


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 37


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 3/21


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 52/52


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Echo Claw Swipe: Level 1 (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Shadow Blur: Level 2 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Spectral Crunch: Level 1 (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Quick Dash: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flight: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Deep Breathing: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Air Sense: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Climb: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crush Claw: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flamethrower: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Manipulation: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Lightning Affinity: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes - Focusing Lenses, Peripheral Optimization (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws - Claw Flexibility, Razor-Edge Claws (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales - Colour Adaptation, Shock-Absorbent Scales (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings - Hollow Bones (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir, Mana Conservation (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac - Stamina Surge Reservoir (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Conduit Vasculature (I): +0


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 4


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 19


    </li>


    </ul>


    Hoh, look at that! Four shiny skill points. Right, here¡¯s the plan: spend one on that skill I¡¯d been eyeing, use two more to upgrade the essentials, and then I¡¯d give this new mana vein a proper kick in the teeth by maxing out the morphogen on it. More pain? Oh, delightful. I couldn¡¯t wait to see what that felt like. Truly a treat¡­ haha¡­


    I shook my head again, deciding to handle the less excruciating tasks first.


    I summoned the skill shop, and my gaze immediately latched onto the remaining options.


    [Body Slam: Requires 1 SP. Leverages user¡¯s body mass in a rapid, forceful downward motion, delivering substantial impact to nearby targets. Effective for disrupting enemy positioning or creating space in close combat scenarios.]


    [Core Stabilization: Requires 1 SP. Enables user to achieve a deep state of focus, stabilizing core functions. Increases mana recovery rate during periods of rest or concentration.]


    Core Stabilization was like a magical cousin to my Deep Breathing, but for mana instead of stamina. I had so many ways to recover stamina already: the Stamina Surge Reservoir, feeding on monsters, and that Deep Breathing skill. But for mana? I had almost nothing. Its natural recovery rate was abysmally slow, at three minutes per point. If I wanted to improve my Mana Manipulation, I needed to recover faster.


    So, without hesitation, I grabbed it. The instant I did, a lovely chill of newfound knowledge washed over me. Ahh, there it was¡ªthat blissful, icy flood of understanding. Nothing quite like it.


    The knowledge seeped into my mind like a draught of cool air, and just like that¡ªbang¡ªI knew. It was as if yet another fog had lifted, clearing away the cobwebs from my thoughts. No hesitation now. I closed my eyes and delved inward, feeling my core¡ªwarm, snugly lodged beside my heart, likely somewhere in the middle of my ribcage, though I wasn¡¯t planning on dissecting myself to check.


    Focus, let the mana flow¡ªeasy enough. No fuss, no frills, just a way to line things up. The skill took over, guiding me with a deft touch, smoothing out the snags. It was like untangling a ball of cables until everything clicked into place. My core, my mana pathways¡ªthey all hummed, perfectly synchronized like finely-tuned clockwork.


    The world stepped back, as if giving me room, and suddenly, the mana around me felt almost... tangible.


    The skill whispered its instructions: Call it.


    So, naturally, I did.


    I didn¡¯t have a clue what mana looked like or even felt like, but it responded. I summoned it like an obedient hound. I couldn¡¯t tell what it looked like or what it felt like, but there it was¡ªsnickering, brushing against my scales like a playful breeze before soaking into the thousands of channels that ran along my veins. My head split in two: one part gawking at the sheer marvel of it all, the other coolly ticking away, counting seconds. Got to track the time, after all. Can¡¯t be all wonder and no calculation.


    It was like deep breathing but for mana, not stamina. A smooth, rhythmic pull, inviting mana from the surroundings to flow into me. I stayed in that state for five minutes, then let it go, snapping back to reality. I glanced at my stat screen. Hah! Fourteen mana sitting pretty.


    I¡¯d gained 11 mana in five minutes?! Normally, that would¡¯ve taken me a good 33 minutes. I did the maths¡ªone point from the natural recovery rate (three minutes per point), leaving 10 mana from the skill alone. Meaning Core Stabilization was recovering a point every 30 seconds. Definitely worth it.


    Another peek at the stat screen revealed three skill points still waiting to be spent. Nice. Enough to level up two more skills with one in reserve. Not bad at all. Now... which ones to boost? Got to be strategic.


    Quick Dash and Air Sense¡ªmy best two utilities. Quick Dash was a beauty: it closed gaps, let me give chase, or allowed me to scarper like the wind. Perfect for any situation.


    Air Sense, though? That was the subtle killer. More than just sensing air¡ªit was reading disturbances, tracking sneaky movements, mapping out the unseen. In this dungeon, it was priceless.


    These two skills were what I leaned on down here anyway, so, with frequent use, leveling them up would be a breeze.


    Right then! Decision made.


    I locked in on the glowing "+" beside Quick Dash, and another window flashed up.

 Chapter 56: Cashing In

    Quick Dash


    <ul>


    <li>


    Increases velocity over brief intervals at the expense of Stamina.


    </li>


    </ul>


    [Upgrade 1: Variable Sprint. Allows user to adjust dash distance. Short dashes conserve stamina; long sprints consume more but grant more dash distance. Enhances overall maneuverability by adapting sprint to tactical needs.]


    [Upgrade 2: Rapid Recovery Dash. Reduces cooldown between dashes, enables for faster follow-up movements. Trades maximum distance for smoother, sustained mobility, improving evasion and repositioning during combat.]


    Once again, two options flashed before my eyes. Both upgrades for Quick Dash looked tantalising in their own right. Useful, no doubt. But¡­ which one had the edge?


    [Variable Sprint]: Adjust dash distance. My current dash range was already a hefty 7.5 metres, give or take, up from the basic five. It was no small distance, of course, but being able to tweak it on the fly? Short sprints to conserve stamina, long ones when I needed to make a break for it, at the cost of burning through more of my reserves. Tactical flexibility at its finest. I liked it. Quite a bit, actually. It¡¯d pair nicely with the upgrades to my eyes¡ªcapturing every inch of the battlefield¡ªand skills like Air Sense.


    Sometimes, a tiny hop could be the difference between life and a nasty surprise. Slip in, slip out, and barely scratch my stamina pool. Which, frankly, wasn¡¯t much of a concern given how high it was and I had a way to replenish it mid-fight.


    But then there was the second option¡­


    [Rapid Recovery Dash]: This one tackled the single, glaring flaw in my current Quick Dash¡ªthe cooldown. Every time I dashed, my limbs needed a split second to recharge, a measly second, sure, but in the thick of battle, that second could be an eternity. This upgrade promised shorter cooldowns. I could dash faster, more often. Granted, it¡¯d gulp down my stamina quicker, but by Thalador¡¯s beard, was it worth it. A proper upgrade for a speedster.


    Sacrificing a bit of max range for smoother, quicker dashes, lightning-fast dodges, and rapid repositioning. No more getting pinned down. After that creeper skirmish, I knew I needed this.


    Oof, just thinking about it was glorious. Zipping left and right, turning my legs into blurs. If I¡¯d had this for the last fight, I wouldn¡¯t have needed to think¡ªjust dash, dash, dash, out of harm¡¯s way before the enemy even blinked. The decision was made. I needed this.


    Flexibility over distance? Nice. But a reduced cooldown? A bloody game-changer. And it wasn¡¯t going to drain much stamina either.


    With the decision made, that icy flood of knowledge washed over me, sinking in like a cool, soothing wave. So satisfying. And just like that, my Quick Dash was better, faster, deadlier.


    But I wasn¡¯t done yet. I pulled up my stat screen and went straight to Air Sense. That skill had potential, and I was itching to see what kind of upgrade it held. The excitement simmered, because I knew¡­ it was going to be big.


    Air Sense


    <ul>


    <li>


    Increases sensitivity to wind pressure and direction.


    </li>


    </ul>


    [Upgrade 1: Gale Whisper. Expands user¡¯s ability to interpret distant wind movements. Detects environmental shifts, or approaching flying creatures well before visual confirmation. Useful for planning maneuvers, tactical evasion, or anticipating environmental changes.]


    [Upgrade 2: Breath of Shadows. Increases sensitivity to air currents in enclosed spaces or tight quarters. Detects breathing patterns, subtle movements, or the approach of hidden enemies. Optimized for ambush detection and locating concealed foes in complex environments.]


    The moment my eyes landed on the options, I did a double take. Were these really Tier 2 upgrades? Because they looked downright delicious.


    First up, [Gale Whisper]: it would boost my awareness of distant wind movements, if I were up in the open air, under the sky. I¡¯d be able to sense flying creatures before they even crossed my line of sight, pick up on environmental shifts¡ªwhatever that meant. Maybe it was like some sort of weathered predator reading the breeze? Perfect for evasion and planning ahead, spotting enemies long before they swooped in to tear me apart.


    It sounded powerful, no doubt about it. But the problem? It was limited to open spaces, wide skies, and well¡­ that didn¡¯t scream "me." I wasn¡¯t exactly planning on taking to the skies and announcing to the world that a dragon was here for a casual flyabout. A terrible choice for someone like me, which was a real shame. I actually liked it in theory.


    But then¡­ [Breath of Shadows]. Now this was what I needed. It fine-tuned my sensitivity in tight, confined spaces, or even in more complex terrain. And it wasn¡¯t just about reading the wind anymore¡ªit was more like a full-blown detection system. Breathing, tiny shifts in movement, hidden enemies. It screamed "I dare you to sneak up on me," and that¡¯s exactly the kind of tool I needed down here. Practically everything in this place loved sneaking up on its prey, and I wasn¡¯t above doing the same. The perfect ambush-evader turned hunter.


    I¡¯d already been using Air Sense as a detection tool of sorts, catching those subtle changes in the air to gauge whether my surroundings were safe. It wasn¡¯t super clear, but it worked well enough. Now, the thought of upgrading that into something even more powerful? Hell yes, I wanted this.


    This option felt downright devious. No more surprises, no more sneak attacks. As long as I kept my wits about me¡ªand I liked to think I wasn¡¯t a fool¡ªI¡¯d be able to detect any hidden foe by the sound of their blasted breathing.


    So, the choice was obvious: Gale Whisper was great for wide fields, but Breath of Shadows was tailor-made for close combat, ambush-proofing, and enemy-tracking in tight quarters. Perfect for my situation.


    Without hesitation, I picked Breath of Shadows. No point in procrastinating. And, as always, that cool rush of new knowledge poured into my mind, settling in like an icy stream down my spine.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I lifted my head, sucking in a deep breath, and¡ªby the Thalador¡ªit was as if someone flipped a switch in my brain, opening a door to senses I hadn¡¯t known existed. Suddenly, the air around me was giving up secrets¡ªpatterns, signals, little whispers in the wind I¡¯d never noticed before.


    Granted, I was holed up in my cosy little hideaway, so there wasn¡¯t much air to work with, but even the scraps that trickled through the branches carried stories. A tree nearby, just to the right¡ª16 metres, give or take¡ªa soft, warm breath. A monster. Lovely. More patterns fluttered into focus, like guests I hadn¡¯t invited.


    But, of course, nothing is ever perfect, is it? My shiny new ability came with a glaring flaw. A creature with a decent Stealth skill might just slip past my radar. Why? Because I had Stealth too, and the first thing I noticed when I unlocked it was how I didn¡¯t even stir the air around me. I gave it another test just to be sure, and, yep, if someone was using my trick, I¡¯d struggle to detect them too.


    That¡¯s the system, of course¡ªno matter how strong an ability, there¡¯s always a catch, some built-in flaw that leaves one vulnerable. Honestly, the sheer scope of this system, with its monstrous intricacies, never failed to baffle me. It made you wonder why it was so hell-bent on stomping out the humanoid species. Not that I¡¯d be solving that mystery any time soon. And frankly, I couldn¡¯t be arsed to care right now. Both of my missions could be declined without consequence, so that¡¯s what I did. Cheers to small mercies.


    With that sorted, I had a single skill point left to play with, but I stashed it away for later. Now came the fun part¡ªmutating my new organ. I glanced at the screen and couldn¡¯t help but groan. Seriously, Thalador, why must every bloody mutation feel like I¡¯m being dragged through the seven hells? And this one? I¡¯d have to endure it five sodding times.


    Fifteen morphogens. The prize might be worth it, though¡ªa possible boost to my mana control. The organ itself had to be rare, something like a macro-trophic sac, which would definitely up its value. I swallowed hard.


    Would you like to use 1 Morphogen to upgrade Mana Conduit Vasculature?


    Before I had a chance to second-guess it, the adrenaline kicked in. Right, screw it! Let¡¯s just get this torture over with.


    And so, the agony began anew.


    ***


    Ah, finally it was over! That pain, bloody hell, it was like each mutation had a fresh, unique brand of torment, as if the system was playing some twisted game. Imagine having your veins set ablaze, roasting you from the inside out. Worse than anything that could wound you on the outside. My breaths came in ragged gasps, and one would think with all the sophistication of the system, it might have a built-in feature for easing pain. But no, clearly it¡¯s got a sadistic streak.


    My body was still trembling, protesting from enduring that torture not once, not twice, but five bloody times! Yet there wasn¡¯t a second to rest¡ªnot if I had any courage left to scrape together. I had to push forward, secure the advancement before I lost my nerve. One more round of hellish agony, and then I¡¯d be done. The next upgrades were a long way off, mercifully,


    [Mana Conduit Vasculature +5: Advancement Options]


    Choose one of the following:


    ? Mana Flow Optimization: Enhances circulation speed within conduits, enabling faster activation of mana-based abilities and quicker recovery of mana post-usage.


    ? Micro-Mana Control: Grants precision manipulation of minute mana quantities, allowing for intricate spell formation and mana management in confined spaces.


    ? Mana Surge Dampeners: Implements control systems to stabilize mana surges, preventing overload and damage during high-output spells or abilities.


    ? Mana Conduction Reinforcement: Strengthens conduits for higher mana transfer capacity, supporting more powerful outputs and extended ability usage.


    Then the options blinked into view. Well, blow me down. These upgrades were leagues above what I¡¯d expected, but then again, this was a rare organ I was mucking about with. The system wasn¡¯t pulling any punches.


    [Mana Flow Optimization], eh? Essentially, once I started slinging spells around, even just recharging the fire gland, this would give me faster activation and a quicker recovery time. It meant my base mana regen would get a nice little boost. So much more efficient than how humans faff about increasing their mana regen. Having mana veins as an upgradable organ was a right gift from the gods. This upgrade would be like strapping a turbocharger to my system. Spells fired off quicker, mana recovery in record time¡ªoh, this was definitely a goodie, no matter the situation.


    Then we¡¯ve got [Micro-Mana Control], finer manipulation of mana, down to the smallest thread. Can¡¯t go wrong with that! Being able to weave mana through the eye of a needle. Neat. Granted, I had no clue how precise my control was at the moment, but I could feel it. By human standards, I was practically a mana prodigy, not to toot my own horn too much. Mana Manipulation had already set me miles ahead of them, and the more I used it, the sharper it became. Every time I worked with mana, I came out stronger.


    With this upgrade, I could form intricate spells with deadly precision, control the tiniest amounts of mana, and create formations even in the tightest spaces. Spells I¡¯d only heard whispers about were already bubbling up in my head¡ªones that demanded absolute mastery. I might even rope Lotte into teaching me some once my skills were up to scratch. It was very tempting¡ªa delicate touch that could open up a world of crafty spellwork. And me being me, the finesse of it all was hard to resist.


    But still, I wasn¡¯t about to rush things. I had to weigh every option before making my choice. No room for foolishness now!


    [Mana Surge Dampeners]¡ªthe contraption designed to stabilise mana surges. Now this, this was actually worth the time. Honestly, it was a no-brainer that anyone flinging magic around like a toddler with a crossbow was bound to tear up their mana veins. Or worse, attempt spells well beyond their pay grade. Every year, without fail, some imbecile at school would get their grubby hands on a grimoire meant for someone with ten times their core capacity and decide to "give it a go." Result? A one-way ride on the back of a Quilidar to Thalador¡¯s church. Idiots.


    So yes, a safeguard like this was appealing¡ªif I ever had the desire to fling high-output spells without blowing myself into next week. A built-in insurance policy. After you¡¯ve had one or two explosions detonate inside your chest cavity, you tend to appreciate that kind of thing. But I wasn¡¯t stupid enough to mess with spells beyond my level in the first place. That never ends in anything but a lovely evening in a healer¡¯s tent, and frankly, I wasn¡¯t interested. I knew my limits. I¡¯d only cast what my mana veins could handle, and I¡¯d always have an oblivion rune in spell-matrix, sapping off excess mana before anything got truly dire.


    Now, moving on to the next: [Mana Conduction Reinforcement]. More power, plain and simple. Strengthening the mana conduits, increasing their capacity. Longer casting time, more oomph. Couldn¡¯t argue with that. Everyone knows there¡¯s a limit to how long you can sustain spell matrices before your veins throw in the towel, demanding a break. Essentially, this was stamina for magic. Definitely something to have in the toolbox.


    They all had their perks.


    [Mana Flow Optimization]? Speed. Oh, and how I loved speed.


    [Micro-Mana Control]? Every detail-oriented mage¡¯s dream, especially those who walked a pure magic [Path]. The sheer finesse you could achieve was intoxicating.


    [Mana Surge Dampeners]? Well, practical, sure¡ªsafe, even¡ªbut hardly exciting.


    And then [Mana Conduction Reinforcement] for a marathon of magic, letting me keep the spells going longer.


    But deep down, I knew exactly where my heart lay. Actually, it was torn between two. [Mana Flow Optimization] would be BIG right from the word go¡ªspeeding up casting, faster mana channeling, faster recovery. An immediate edge. But then, [Micro-Mana Control]¡ªoh, that was the golden ticket for the long game. I¡¯ve spent my life thirsting for mastery over mana. The finer the control, the more intricate the effects. The sheer precision it would offer, especially for something as unruly as Lightning magic, was going to be mind-blowing.


    So, did I want something that would deliver right now, or did I want the long-term investment, the key to unlocking the hardest magic known to man?


    I didn¡¯t want to choose. Damn it, I really didn¡¯t.

 Chapter 57: Little Badger

    Ah, the old mantra they drilled into our heads¡ª¡°Mana is unruly,¡± they said, ¡°like a blasted dog that won¡¯t heel.¡± You had to crush it, bend it beneath the weight of your will, force it into submission. Without that iron grip, it would never come to heel, they claimed. So, every single one of their tedious exercises circled around the same tiresome notion: a way to make this elusive mana inside us obey.


    I¡¯d seen it, of course¡ªwatched my classmates grimace and sweat, struggling to tame that force. It¡¯s not like I wanted to relive those memories, but there they were, uninvited. Watching them fight for what I craved with every fiber of my being, knowing I had nothing. I¡¯d lie awake, dreaming of the day I¡¯d get my own mana¡ªwondering, would it fight me like it fought them? Would it try to resist, leaving me thrashing in the muck like the rest?


    Well, I¡¯d found my answer: no. Whatever they told me was utter rubbish. Mana wasn¡¯t some obstinate cur¡ªit was more like a pup, eager for a game of fetch. Every time I reached for it, it practically lit up, buzzing with anticipation, waiting for my next command. Maybe it was the mana manipulation skill? Nah, it didn¡¯t feel like that. The skill¡¯s description just mentioned helping with control, not making it downright subservient.


    Perhaps it was the dragon blood in me. Maybe mana just¡­ fancied it. Who knew?


    Weird. Bloody weird, actually.


    Anyway, I opted for [Micro-Mana Control] over [Mana Flow Optimization]¡ªthinking long-term here. Lightning affinity¡¯s a beast to manage, or so I¡¯d been told. Like all magic, the trickiest spells at each core stage demanded an absurdly delicate touch with mana threads. Even with mana practically wagging its tail at me, I couldn¡¯t say I¡¯d mastered it just yet. Those matrices? Nightmarish. They didn¡¯t call them difficult for nothing. The amount of control needed was downright maddening, and I didn¡¯t have the time to gain that level of finesse. Thank the gods for the system for things like Mana Manipulation, though¡ªit felt a bit like cheating, but by the gods, it was satisfying.


    After yet another round of rolling the mana through my veins and out through my claws, where it tried to explore every nook and cranny of my body, I finally got what I was waiting for:


    Mana Manipulation has reached Level 4.


    Sweet hell, that took ten cycles of recovering and channeling! But oh, was it worth it. Just one more step, and it would cap out. Then I¡¯d slap a precious skill point on it and level up again. Worth every second!


    Right then, the next level would sort itself out soon enough. I¡¯d been holed up in this dank pit for what felt like an age¡ªalright, maybe not quite an eternity, but we were definitely edging into ¡°I should be charging rent¡± territory. Four hours, give or take. But hey, I was feeling a damn sight better. Mana Manipulation was sitting smugly at level 4, and Core Stabilization had decided to bump up to level 2. All the cogs were whirring along nicely.


    Now, the real question¡ªdid I fancy a kip, have a chinwag with Lotte, or head off for a bit more skulking about? I pulled up my status screen. Mana, nearly full. Stamina? Overflowing. And honestly, I wasn¡¯t even a sniff near being knackered. How long had it been since I last slept? Couldn¡¯t tell really. Down here, with no sun to mark time, keeping track was like trying to juggle jelly.


    Did I even need sleep anymore? As long as the stamina gauge stayed plump and I got the odd moment to breathe, I was starting to wonder if I could just carry on indefinitely. It was absurd. Surely even I would hit a wall at some point. But why not see how far I could push it before my body waved the white flag? I felt fresh as a daisy, so might as well ride the wave.


    Another whiff of that stale underground air, and¡­ there was something¡ªtwo more creatures lurking about. Close, perhaps too close for comfort. Zoned in. One was five meters west, the other a few paces behind, maybe stalking its mate, knowing it was a dungeon, probably hoping for a backstab.


    I kept my detection sharp, muscles coiling as the first one crept closer. It was coming straight for me, the second one still trailing like a breathless jogger. Funny, despite all this fancy breath-sensing, I hadn¡¯t a bloody clue what I was up against. Just two breaths to work with.


    The first had this fast, sharp breathing¡ªlike it was gulping air. Probably small, quick, and twitchy. A predator, maybe. The skill kicked in: small things with rapid breathing tended to be light on their feet.


    The second one was a tougher nut to crack. Its breath was slower, but the heat it gave off wasn¡¯t much to write home about¡ªnot what you¡¯d expect from a hulking brute. Big creatures tended to have long, heavy exhalations, like a furnace puffing away. This one? More deliberate, cautious. Maybe a tad heavier than the first, but not by much.


    And yet, there was something off about that second signature¡ªlike it was holding back, lying in wait¡­ rather creepy, in a way.


    But there it was. Nothing to go on but breaths and a bit of half-baked guesswork. Could¡¯ve moved, but that would¡¯ve been like yelling, ¡°Oi, dinner¡¯s here!¡± to the whole forest. So, I held still, sinking into Stealth. Instantly, my scales shifted, blending perfectly with the dark nook I was in. Convincing, I¡¯d say, unless you were me. My own eyes could still make out every shade, courtesy of those bright hues, a far cry from the absolute black it should¡¯ve been.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Just in case, I stoked the fire in my throat, charged my fire gland with 4 mana, and let it simmer. The first one got close now, instincts screaming at it that danger lurked nearby. It sped up, and the second one followed, not wanting to miss the fun.


    Game was up. Chase was on.


    The first one made a beeline for my hiding spot, like it had a bloody treasure map leading it right to me. It lunged into the nook without hesitation¡ªstraight into my lap. Oblivious. Blissfully unaware it had thrown itself right into my claws.


    That¡¯s when I clocked it.


    Sleek, black-and-white fur, claws sharp enough to carve up granite if it fancied. A stubby little brute, built like a squat boulder with legs. Its nose wiggled about, but those beady eyes? Dead set on the tunnel ahead, not a thought spared for what might be behind. Clueless little sod didn¡¯t have a sniff I was a hair¡¯s breadth away.


    A fucking badger!


    And not even a big one at that. Could¡¯ve been charming if it wasn¡¯t packing talons fit to fillet... well, not me, obviously. I¡¯m no wilting flower. But maybe a sapling? A small one.


    My tail coiled, twitching like a serpent about to strike. One swift lash, and I could¡¯ve squeezed the life out of it in seconds. But the poor bugger was panting, chest heaving like it¡¯d run a marathon. Clearly rattled from being chased, but too fixated on whatever lurked outside to even notice me.


    So, I thought, why not just watch? I could snap its neck in a heartbeat. And while those claws were nasty, they¡¯d barely scratch me. Besides, there was something rather entertaining about watching a badger brace itself for doom.


    I sniffed the air. Ah, there it was¡ªanother source of breath, edging closer. A damn fine tracker, this one. Soon enough, it hovered just outside our little burrow. Well, bollocks. So much for picking a quiet hidey-hole. Seemed I¡¯d wandered into this badger¡¯s panic room. Maybe next time I¡¯d be choosier.


    I stayed put, quietly amused at the badger¡¯s frantic breaths, still blissfully unaware of me. It twitched, looked around like it might sense something... but no. Just darkness for its trouble. After realizing it was trapped, it steadied those claws. Brave little tosser, gearing up to face whatever beast lurked outside!


    ...And then it started digging at the wall.


    Ahh, I spoke too soon. Turns out, this little coward had more in common with me than I thought. Hah! Couldn¡¯t really blame it. Shame, though¡ªtime wasn¡¯t exactly on its side. The real predator closed in fast, breath thick in the air, curling around like fog. So close now that I could feel its outline through air¡ªsleek body, long limbs, maybe a tail. Unless those were branches. But the picture forming in my mind? Oh, it wasn¡¯t one I liked.


    It looked an awful lot like something I bloody despised.


    Then, it appeared¡ªan eyeless maw. Ah, for crying out loud! My nose wrinkled in pure disgust. Creepers. Always bloody creepers. Filthy things, always skulking around, picking on the small and defenseless. Meanwhile, the badger went berserk, digging like mad, but honestly¡ªsod it. No one¡¯s digging their way out of this.


    I didn¡¯t waste a moment. My tail whipped out, coiling around the creeper¡¯s eyeless mug, squeezing tight. Before it even knew what hit it, I yanked it in. Sharp claws ready, I plunged into its belly, then, with a Spectral Crunch to the throat, tore it apart from the inside.


    [You have slain a level 7 Umbrocephalus rapax(III).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    Dead meat, just like that. Didn¡¯t even need to bother with the flamethrower. Bloody hell, being an ambush predator was actually quite fun.


    Once the sneaky bit was done, I dropped the lifeless creeper on the ground with a satisfying thud. The poor badger was backed up against the wall, panting, eyes wide as dinner plates, utterly frozen with fear. Ha, poor thing.


    I just stared at it for a moment, before waving my claw. Its fear became even more tangible.


    Ahh... I liked it.


    I scooped it up with my claws, giving it a good look. Scruffy little thing¡ªblack and white fur all matted, with beady eyes that practically screamed, "Help!" No wonder that creeper was so keen to snatch it. Creepers always had a nose for snuffing out the few good things in the world. And this little critter? It was actually quite cute, even if its heart hammered so wildly I could feel the vibrations through its body. I half expected it to lash out at me, but no¡ªresigned to its fate, it just stayed there, probably figuring it had no shot.


    I brought it closer to my maw and¡­ gave it a little kiss on the head. Then, with all the care of a benevolent predator, I set it outside the nook. Definitely a stage two, perhaps even one. Not my taste anyway¡ªbarely enough morphogen to make it worth my time. When it just sat there, stunned, I flicked its rear with my claw, and off it shot, like a bloody magic missile. Thalador¡¯s beard, the little blighter was fast!


    Before I even laid eyes on the creeper¡¯s corpse, I licked my chops. Free food! Delivered right to me. Now that¡¯s service. Time to dig in!


    ***


    I was finally out, doing a bit of reconnaissance around the bioluminescent forest. No matter how much time I spent here, the place always managed to toss something unexpected my way. I wasn¡¯t far from the nook I¡¯d been hiding in when I stumbled across something that stopped me in my tracks.


    My breath caught as I stared at it¡ªa flower, glowing like everything else around here, but this one¡­ this one was different. Seven petals, a deep violet, shimmering ever so faintly, and at the centre, a crystalline core. No stem, no roots. It just grew there, like some parasitic jewel feeding off an ancient, gnarled tree.


    I knew exactly what it was. Noctis Bloom.


    Really fucking rare.


    I¡¯d used one before, back in the day. One petal of this stuff would set you back a whole silver, which was a fair price, considering it could brew a medium-grade mana potion. Worked on one with Miss Hester, my alchemy teacher¡ªthe only human who could stomach me in that miserable town. Of course, it was poisonous on its own, but with the right steps¡ªdetoxification using a proper base to break down the toxin¡ªit became a mana-holding solution.


    Consumable.


    Like most mana recovery ingredients, though, overuse would burn out ones conduits. Still, a damn powerful find.


    But I had no way to store it. Hah, typical. I really should¡¯ve nicked one of those sub-space rings from the cultists. Sure, they were dangerous, and ¡­they probably had tracking enchantments. Ugh, why couldn¡¯t things ever be simple?


    Still, my claws moved before my brain did, tearing through the dead tree and plucking the flower, root and all, in one swift motion. Just as I did, the ground shook beneath me.


    Huh?


    I didn¡¯t need to sense the air, but instinctively, I still did. And then I felt it¡ªa sharp, explosive breath on air radar, that made my scales bristle.


    It wasn¡¯t close.


    Thud.


    But whatever it was¡­ it was massive.

 Chapter 58: The Real Monsters

    There was, unfortunately, a limit to how far my air sense could stretch. Used to be a meagre 15 metres¡ªbarely worth boasting about, really¡ªbut after the last upgrade, it grudgingly pushed itself to a slightly less embarrassing 20. The closer I got to something, the better the air currents whispered their secrets. So, when the ground began to quiver underfoot¡ªnot a full-blown earthquake, of course, more like something immense stomping around with all the grace of a drunken giant¡ªI knew I wasn¡¯t alone. Several breath signatures hovered right at the edge of my reach.


    The first was a sharp, thunderous exhale. Someone had pumped a bellows too hard and wasn¡¯t apologising for it. Then came the rest, a whole damned parade of them, quieter but no less foreboding in their number. At least 20. All following the big one, like ducklings trailing their enormous, monstrous mum.


    This wasn¡¯t supposed to be a bloody hunt. No, I¡¯d reminded myself time and again: reconnaissance mission. Simple stuff, or so I¡¯d thought. Map the terrain, figure out the no-go zones, and¡ªmost importantly¡ªcheck for any pesky Elven delvers lurking about. Not once had I factored actual monsters into the mix. Yet here we were, about to learn something I hadn¡¯t exactly signed up for.


    But maybe that wasn¡¯t a bad thing. As long as I kept my wits about me, stuck to the shadows, and didn¡¯t do anything heroic, I might just unearth some valuable information. Hell, I might even catch a glimpse of the local predators, maybe even witness them tear each other apart. Good reminder for my inner dragon that pride means sweet bugger all out here.


    With that cheery thought, I slunk into full stealth mode, melting into the shadows, and crept towards the source of those monumental breaths. As I moved, I dragged my claws across tree trunks, gouging deep marks to retrace my steps if need be. Gotta make a habit of it, really. Plus, that cosy nook I¡¯d been hiding in earlier was rather pleasant. Couldn¡¯t hurt to have a fallback spot, should things take a nosedive.


    Step by silent step, I edged closer, senses on high alert. And then, I saw it.


    By the bloody beard of Thalador, what fresh hell was this?


    It was nothing like I''d imagined. The beast in front of me¡ªno, scratch that¡ªthis absolute colossus was a mutated version of the Manaroes I knew from Randall. The kind one¡¯d usually see lugging heavy loads. Except this one? It was gigantic. Five times the size of the ones back home, at least. Its hide was a patchwork of dark grey, thick and leathery, bulging with muscle as it stomped forward, each step an earth-shattering event.


    Its back was a fortress¡ªan armoured mountain lined with vicious spikes from its shoulders down to its tail, which ended in a monstrous, spiked club that could probably flatten a house. Oh, and tusks¡ªbloody tusks, as if this walking nightmare wasn¡¯t bad enough. They curved out like a pair of oversized scythes, gleaming with some foul ¡­oily substance. Possibly poison. The horns were sharp enough to impale a boulder with ease. And those hooves, each one the size of my entire body, leaving craters in the ground.


    I saw more of them. Smaller, but still terrifyingly massive compared to me. These oxen-like monstrosities followed the behemoth in some sort of parade¡ªtwice my size, tusks, horns, spiked hooves, the works. They moved like they were born to follow, a slow, unstoppable march.


    If I so much as breathed too loud, I¡¯d be nothing but a bloodstain in seconds.


    I rechecked my Stealth, holding my breath¡ªno sound, no shift in the air, nothing. Good. None of these nightmares had noticed me. I crouched behind a clump of bushes, far enough to stay hidden but close enough to keep an eye on them. But I had detection skills¡ªno way of knowing if one of these beasts had them too.


    So far, so good, though. Not even the biggest one had sensed me. Maybe I was beneath its notice, a speck in its colossal path, too insignificant to bother with.


    That suited me just fine. Let it lumber on, smashing everything in its wake, and I¡¯d stay put, thank you very much.


    The smaller ones trailed behind like ducklings, obediently marching after their massive mother¡ªor whatever this unholy terror was. What really threw me off, though, was how they moved in a perfectly straight line. Trees? Reduced to kindling. Rocks? Ground into powder. The behemoth didn¡¯t so much as slow down. It was as if nature itself couldn¡¯t be bothered to stand in its way.


    I, for one, fully agreed.


    They were marching somewhere¡ªthough where exactly, I couldn¡¯t say. One thing I noticed was how every creature with the sense to survive was hightailing it out of there, fleeing at the mere whisper of its presence. I could feel them pop into existence though Air Sense, only to disappear faster than one could say ¡®run for your life.¡¯ None of them dared stick around long enough to see the thing up close. Frankly, I was inclined to let them do just that¡ªscamper off while I played spectator. Gave me a bit of time to figure out where in the devil¡¯s armpit this walking catastrophe was headed. On a leisurely jaunt, perhaps? Who knows.


    Then, just as I was getting rather bored with the predictability of it all¡ªfifteen minutes in, though it felt like hours¡ªsomething shifted. A new breath signature emerged. And this one wasn¡¯t bolting in the opposite direction like all the others. No, this one was actually coming closer, hoh? It was making its way directly towards the beast¡¯s path.


    Oddly enough, it wasn¡¯t massive like the others by the air around it. Felt like something closer to my size, in fact.


    And then it showed itself¡ªa sleek black wolf, strutting out of the trees with all the swagger of something that had clearly overestimated its own importance. Hah, sure, it was smaller, but I wasn¡¯t going to write it off just yet. Size is often a rather pathetic indicator of strength¡ªI¡¯m living proof of that. Maybe this wolf was the same: small but ready to bring the pain.


    Then came the STOMP!


    CRUNCH!


    When the behemoth¡¯s hoof lifted again, what was left of the wolf could only be described as a rather unappealing jam spread. Ah, well. Perhaps not the sharpest tool in the shed. Intelligence is a stat, after all, and some monsters roll rather poorly.


    The smaller oxen didn¡¯t even flinch. They immediately descended on the mangled remains like vultures at a buffet, gnashing away with jagged teeth, no grace or finesse whatsoever. Watching them chew was like witnessing a street brawl. Really vicious, ugly, and lacking any sort of decorum.


    But something caught my eye, a glimmer on the forest floor beneath the carnage.


    Interesting.


    Leaving my hiding spot, I crept toward the scene. Once the oxen had moved on, I reached the spot and bent down to inspect it. A monster core. Of course. I¡¯d seen plenty of these before, though I¡¯d never watched another monster eat one. I, too, used to ignore them. Before I had mana veins, they didn¡¯t seem like food to me. Sure, I might¡¯ve swallowed one or two in a frenzy, but I¡¯d always spat them out. Something about the texture didn¡¯t sit right. They weren¡¯t exactly edible.


    Stolen story; please report.


    But now? Now was different.


    I picked up the core, scraping it clean on the dirt¡ªit was still covered in saliva. One of those little oxen must¡¯ve spat it out. Ugh. After it was free from the slimy coating, I popped it into my maw.


    Zzzzp!


    It dissolved like an electric candy, leaving a buzzing sensation behind on my tongue.


    [Maximum Mana Increased: +2]


    Ahh, sweet, sweet mana. Judging by the bump, this wolf must¡¯ve been Stage 3, like me. Shame it didn¡¯t have a brain to match. Oh well, its loss, my gain. No complaints about free mana.


    Before long, I caught up with the behemoth¡¯s group once again. The bizarre forest continued to shift and morph around me as I moved. Bioluminescent trees flickered in and out of sight, their colors warping as the terrain evolved beneath my feet. The place I landed in had been relatively flat, but that was just the start. Small waterfalls cascaded from hidden heights, shallow valleys dipped and rose, jagged cliffs jutted out from nowhere, and there were clusters of oversized glowing fungi, massive compared to the ones I burned. What had once been obscured by the fog of hues was slowly revealing itself as I traveled along, sneakily tailing this monstrous caravan.


    Speaking of hues¡­ it was getting weird. I had noticed the haze when I first landed here, but now it was undeniable¡ªthe concentration of hues around me was increasing, subtly at first but building. It was faint, so much so that if you weren¡¯t paying attention, you might miss it. But I had time, and the longer I stayed, the more obvious it became. I¡¯d only seen these hues act this way once before, when that turtle monster spawned during my first hunt. But then, the hues had gathered in one spot, thickening until they solidified and brought that beast into being. This time, however, the hues weren¡¯t gathering in one place. They were just¡­ thickening everywhere. Slowly. Pervasively.


    It was unsettling. Even though these hues had helped me time and time again, something about them always felt off. Eerie.


    I shook my head, dismissing the creeping unease. It could just be part of the dungeon¡¯s natural cycle, like monster spawning. No need to stress about it. Nodding to myself, I carried on. A few more foolish creatures tried to cross the path of the behemoth, but they were obliterated before they even had a chance to blink. As the ox-beasts sucked up all the morphogen from the mangled remains, I got something even better.


    [Maximum Mana Increased: +2]


    [Maximum Mana Increased: +2]


    [Maximum Mana Increased: +2]


    Eight mana points in total! This little outing was turning out to be a brilliant idea. I continued sneaking along, no fuss, no muss. Though it seemed the remaining creatures were wise enough to stay out of the behemoth¡¯s way. And then, I heard it¡ªsomething new reaching my ears.


    Screeching. Wingflaps. Scraping and snarling. The unmistakable sounds of battle.


    The behemoth, as if hearing the same thing, increased its pace, and its oxen followers did the same. They were charging. Bloody hell.


    I broke stealth, spreading my wings as I scrambled up the nearest tree. Climbing to the top, I surveyed the scene that lay ahead.


    It was a monster mosh pit. A battlefield teeming with creatures, all engaged in brutal, chaotic combat. The scale of it hit me like a punch to the gut. Holy Thalador, what in the void were they fighting over?!? But that question felt pointless the second I thought it. This was a dungeon. Combat wasn¡¯t just the norm; it was the bloody point. It was the way to grow stronger, to gain experience, levels and morphogen. Of course, that was what this chaos was for. Getting stronger through carnage.


    The scene ahead was so bizarre and destructive, it took my breath away. I was panting, heavy gasps searing my lungs¡ªnot from fear, but from sheer, electrifying thrill. The carnage was ¡­glorious. landscape before me looked like it had never known peace, as monsters driven by unhinged bloodlust shredded one another apart with claws, fangs, and magic. It was a hurricane of violence. So unrelenting. Ahh.. so pure.


    Two factions seemed to dominate the battlefield. One side was made up of serpent-like creatures, though not all of them slithered on the ground. Some were earthbound, with clawed tails and terrifying fangs, while others soared through the sky, feathered, ferocious. Just like the pack of them that had ganged up on the serpent I saw when I first landed here.


    In the center of it all stood an enormous serpent, just as large as the behemoth I had been tailing. But this one wasn¡¯t charging blindly like the ox-beasts. It stood, feathered, but grounded, surrounded by a strange mist that swirled like a veil around it. Water magic, perhaps? The mist made it hard to see its details clearly, but from what I could make out, this thing was just as formidable as the behemoth. Maybe even more so.


    On the opposite side of the battlefield, the behemoth finally lumbered out of the treeline, bellowing a roar so deep it rattled my very bones. With the subtlety of a drunken boulder, it charged straight at the serpent in the heart of the chaos. Anything unfortunate enough to cross its path was swiftly turned into a grotesque pancake¡ªa crimson smear beneath its massive hooves. Despite its clumsy bulk, the brute''s charge was terrifying¡ªmomentum transforming its girth into a living wrecking ball of doom.


    To top it off, I realized it was slightly¡­ on fire. Flames licked along its back and horns, an odd contrast against the dampened hues of the mist swirling around the serpent.


    When they clashed, it was nothing short of cataclysmic. The ground itself quaked beneath the impact, earth splintering under the behemoth¡¯s hooves as mist erupted from the serpent¡¯s veil. Fire met water in a violent burst of steam, creating an even thicker fog that turned the whole scene into a swirling mess of madness. Through the chaos, I could only catch fleeting glimpses¡ªscales and fur, horns clashing with claws. Absolute pandemonium.


    I squinted, straining to see through the murk, but the haze was too dense. Even with my enhanced senses, it was like trying to peer through soup. Increasing concentration of hues wasn¡¯t helping me either. Climbing down from my perch, I knew I¡¯d have to get closer if I wanted any hope of making sense of this insanity. Was this a territorial spat between two colossal egos, or something more cunning? Who could say? But one thing was for sure: I wasn¡¯t leaving empty-handed.


    As I crept along the battlefield''s edge, my eyes locked onto the corpses strewn about¡ªsome half-crushed, others ripped apart in the fray. I licked my lips. A feast of morphogen just waiting to be claimed. And really, what kind of sneaky dragon would I be if I let such prime spoils go to waste?

 Chapter 59: Uh-Oh!

    I kept my eyes peeled on the brutal mayhem ahead, creeping ever closer. The battlefield was pure bedlam. Craters gouged out by the behemoth¡¯s rampage. Earth ripped apart where its colossal body had barreled through. Thick mist billowing where fire clashed with that serpent¡¯s water magic. The destruction sprawled everywhere. Trees snapped like twigs, boulders reduced to rubble, and plants uprooted, tossed about like confetti. Sobering, really, to think of all that senseless destruction. Collateral. That''s all it was. Just... scraps in the wake of something so incomprehensibly strong.


    Deep inside, the dragon stirred. I''d hoped, rather foolishly, that witnessing the sheer scale of these creatures¡¯ carnage might knock some humility into the beast, perhaps dull its insatiable thirst for power. But no. Each roar, each tremor, each bloody shockwave ripping through the ground only made the hunger grow sharper. More delicious. I craved it. That raw, unbridled force that could reduce all opposition to dust. One day. Someday.


    Another deafening crash split the air, and the ground shuddered beneath me. A violent gust of mist-laden air followed, strong enough to nearly send me sprawling. But wind? Pfft. Child¡¯s play by now. My wings unfurled, catching the current with a deftness that bordered on arrogant, bending and weaving like the trees themselves. Flight was becoming second nature. I steadied myself, heart pounding. Well, damn. That was something.


    The roars ahead grew louder as I neared the edge of the battlefield. Corpses were strewn about. Mangled. Ripped apart. Squashed flat or half-devoured. Even clawed beyond all recognition. The ground was drenched in blood. Even the smell was overpowering. Once, as a mere half-human, I¡¯d have gagged. But now? The scent of fresh blood, the charred flesh tinged with a smoky undertone, that sharp metallic bite, mmm, it all made my mouth water.


    I kept low, slinking through the outskirts, hugging the bushes that hadn¡¯t yet been reduced to mulch. Scales shifted each time I moved, blending perfectly with the surroundings. Thus I slipped through unseen. I wasn¡¯t here to join their little brawl. Oh no, I had a far smarter plan, reap the spoils, then disappear before any of the bigger players noticed my presence.


    My enhanced gaze darted over the macabre, picking out the details. Bloodied corpses, shattered remains of monsters too slow to dodge the crossfire. Some were still fresh, oozing crimson from gaping wounds; others had been squashed into indistinguishable mush. A severed claw here, a torn-off tail there, nothing more than unlucky fodder. But among the carnage, my eyes locked onto it¡ªthe largest corpse in sight. My mouth practically watered.


    But I wasn¡¯t alone.


    On the periphery, I sensed them¡ªthe breaths of other opportunists like me. My Air Sense flickered with their presence, but even without it, I could see them. Small creatures hiding in the underbrush, waiting for their moment. One wolf-like beast gnawed at a half-eaten monster, dragging the remains into a shadowy thicket. Above, vulture-like creatures with absurdly long beaks perched on the treetops, their claws already clutching torn flesh, tearing into it hastily. Others waited, eager to swoop down and grab more of what the battlefield offered.


    There were even more of them. Rodent-like creatures scurried from body to body, ripping chunks of meat and retreating as quickly as they¡¯d come. Winged insects, larger than ones I saw in sap chamber, buzzed about, feasting on the blood pooling in the cracks of the earth. Even the plants looked... hungry, vines creeping toward the bodies, latching onto anything within reach. Holy shit, there were so many of them.


    The wolf noticed me as I emerged from the shadows, but it did nothing. Just dragged its prize deeper into the underbrush, its eyes locked forward. The vultures overhead, perched with their long, twisted beaks dripping, gave me a glance¡ªcautious, not curious¡ªbefore returning to their meal. None of them challenged me. And I understood why.


    It was simple, really. Brutal, but simple. A delicate balance between survival and growth. These creatures weren¡¯t looking for dominance, not here, not now. This was a place for calculation, for restraint. I didn¡¯t look around either; making eye contact just felt wrong. No one watched me directly¡ªjust the sidelong glances. Eye contact here would break the unspoken rules. You don¡¯t make eye contact. You don¡¯t challenge. Because the moment you do, the whole ecosystem shifts. Suddenly, you¡¯re not just a scavenger. You¡¯re prey.


    Every twitch, every glance carried intention. But not aggression. It was measured. Growing strong in the dungeon wasn¡¯t just about raw power. It was a game of patience. There was no glory in standing out, no reward in being noticed. You blend in. You move carefully. It wasn¡¯t a conscious thought¡ªjust instinct. Primal.


    It all felt transactional. You took what you needed, no more, no less. The dungeon didn¡¯t give a damn about morality or fairness¡ªit cared about opportunity. And when opportunity presented itself, you grabbed it. Eat your fill, vanish without a trace.


    It wasn¡¯t always about thriving. It was about enduring. Until, one day, you reached the level of power where thriving wasn¡¯t a question anymore. None of it was personal. Just survival.


    I smirked. Yeah. I could play that game.


    The massive corpse lay ahead of me, untouched save for a lone rodent that scurried away the moment I approached. I wasn¡¯t the biggest predator around, quite the opposite really. Except for my long neck, my body wouldn¡¯t even reach the height of a human thigh. But that didn¡¯t mean I was weak. Far from it.


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


    The corpse in front of me had been stomped to death. Its head flattened, the body still mostly intact¡ªhefty, well-built, but gone in an instant. No struggle, just a quick, brutal end. It had hooves, but without the head, I couldn¡¯t tell exactly what kind of monster it was. Not that it mattered.


    I dug my sharp, curved teeth into the soft tissue at the base of its neck, where the spine meets the shoulder¡ªthe optimal spot for dragging. My claws sank into the tough muscle just below its ribs, finding perfect purchase between the tendons. For the first time, I truly felt my physical power. This thing was massive, easily twice my size, yet it felt so light in my grip. If I wanted to, I could take to the air with it, no problem.


    With a little effort, I spread my wings, a half-flight, half-sprint dragging me across the field without too much hullabaloo. I didn¡¯t activate Quick Dash¡ªI didn¡¯t want to startle the other scavengers. We had an understanding, and I had no desire to muck it up.


    A few rodents scurried by, grabbing whatever scraps they could. Overhead, a vulture monster swooped down, snagging a rib from a shredded corpse before flying off again. No one bothered with me as I slipped into the underbrush. Once in a secure spot, I crouched, my senses reaching out¡ªAir Sense confirming no threats nearby.


    I dug in.


    The taste¡ªoh, Thalador, the taste¡ªwas exquisite. No time to savor it, though. I ripped hefty chunks of meat from its bones, my teeth tearing through flesh with rapid efficiency. The entrails were slurped up in seconds, their rich, gamey flavor filling my senses. I worked quickly, taking the corpse apart with the precision of a predator honed by necessity. The bones crunched between my jaws as I cleaned them of marrow. In minutes, it was gone. Devoured. Whatever stamina I had spent coming here was fully replenished, and my reserves? Brimming.


    But more importantly, the morphogen. That¡¯s what I was really after. That, and the monster cores. I plucked one from the chest cavity of the beast I¡¯d just stripped clean and popped it into my mouth. Another two points of mana.


    It was almost too easy.


    I didn¡¯t slow down. I found another corpse, this one still fresh but already attracting a crowd of vultures and vermin. I kept my distance, waiting for the nearest vulture to hop off before darting in, sinking my claws into its hindquarters and ripping it back to the bushes. My teeth found the weak spot at the spine, and with a quick twist, the body was mine to devour.


    No time to waste. I kept at it¡ªcorpse after corpse, carefully assessing, waiting for the perfect moment. My claws dug into the tender spots: under the ribs, near the spine, at the base of the limbs. My teeth shredded flesh, tendons snapping under the pressure. Each body stripped of value in minutes. No waste. No trace. Just blood-soaked earth and splintered bones left behind.


    I wasn¡¯t alone, either. All the scavengers around me were doing the same¡ªpicking the battlefield clean, working in eerie synchronicity as the chaos of the ongoing battle raged on. The serpent and behemoth clashed ahead, their roars rattling the earth with each collision. And we all just got used to it. Shockwaves? Just background noise. An injured oxen beast and a feathered serpent ventured too close to the edges of the battlefield, but every scavenger gave them a wide berth. No one wanted to risk tangling with a live one, not here, not now.


    Soon, though, I had gathered a decent haul.


    Maximum mana: bumped up to 46. I hadn¡¯t found every single core¡ªsome were buried too deep, and the hues in the air, while helpful in locating them, were unreliable here. The concentration was too dense, too chaotic. But it didn¡¯t matter. Morphogen was where I¡¯d won. Nearly 38 points gained from here alone. Combined with the two I already had, that put me at 40. Not bad.


    But soon, the outskirts would be picked clean. I would have to move deeper into more dangerous areas if I wanted more. And that came with risks. I crouched in the bushes, watching the chaos unfold ahead of me. Venturing further into the thick of battle seemed foolish. The monsters there were feral, wild with rage and madness. Magic was thrown about haphazardly, fire and water clashing like living forces. Monsters didn¡¯t even recognize their allies anymore. I watched as an oxen creature impaled one of its own kind with its horns, trampling it in a frenzy.


    The most bizarre sight, though, was happening right in front of me. A feathered serpent, barely clinging to life, slithered desperately across the torn-up battlefield. Its body was mangled, torn apart from below, and I thought for sure it was done for as an ox monster closed in to stomp it to death. But then, something happened. The dungeon itself came alive.


    Tendrils of soil, thick and writhing like living roots, erupted from the ground, wrapping around the serpent. The ox tried to stomp it, but it was like hitting an invisible wall. A cocoon of force surged from the earth, flinging the ox backward with the same force it had tried to crush the serpent with.


    I blinked.


    Ahh¡­ it was evolving. The dungeon itself had become its guardian. I¡¯d always thought the dungeon simply masked one¡¯s presence beneath the soil, but this¡ªthis was something else. Reflecting damage? That was new. The evolving description had mentioned being in "Her embrace"¡ªGaia, was it? Maybe that was the dungeon¡¯s name. I nodded. A rather powerful tool. Nothing would touch that serpent until its evolution completed. I wondered if it could heal its torn body, though¡ªit had been ripped in half when it started.


    Well, I guess I¡¯d find out soon enough.


    For now, more morphogen. My eyes scanned the battlefield again, locking onto another opportunity. A hefty feathered serpent, not too far from the chaos but far enough for a quick grab. I moved without hesitation¡ªhalf gliding, half sprinting¡ªmy teeth sank deep into its hide.


    And then¡­ it hit me. A strange feeling of wrongness.


    I froze, my instincts screaming. Immediately, I checked my Air Sense. There were four new breath signatures in the vicinity. Different. Controlled. My gaze shifted to a small hill on my right. And I knew¡ªI knew the cause of that wrongness.


    Because I recognized those breathing patterns. I had breathed just like that¡ªonce, not even a week ago.


    Elves.


    Four of them. My eyes widened. Before I could even process what that meant, a wave of blistering heat passed over me, searing the air. I glanced up as the cavern sky above turned an ominous shade of red.


    A gigantic fireball.


    And it was coming¡­ straight for the nearest monster group.


    I was definitely in the blast radius.

 Chapter 60: Malevolent Dragon

    I awoke to a sharp pain gnawing in my innards. Vision blurring at the edges, twisting, the world shifting between shades of red and black. My chest¡­ heavy. Breathing¡­ shallow.


    What¡­ just happened? I¡­ was preparing a Quick Dash when¡­ I lost my vision. Something else hit me. Other than fireball.


    Another breathing a searing gasp. Pain, all around my body. Couldn¡¯t¡­ think clearly. No¡­ No¡­ Get a goddamned grip. But vision was slipping once again.


    Flashes¡ªfeathers. Heat. Smell of blood. So much blood.


    Something sharp dug into my side. No¡­ not just sharp. Tearing. Pain immediately bought the focus back. Eyes groggily opened once again, trying to focus, the sensation repeating once again. Sharp. Jagged. Like something was¡­ sawing through me.


    The thought was enough. Danger. I was in danger. Fragmanted thoughts started to pull together as a surge of panic and anger awoke the adrenaline inside. Vision sharpened once again, the hues blinking in existence.


    Another tear. I felt before I saw. A shadow¡­ claws. Talons? Yes. A beak.


    I twisted, claws sunk in, digging into my abdomen. Another searing sensation of pain.


    My eyes snapped wide open, the haze lifting in a storm of burning fury.


    My once gleaming scales were now blackened, my skin scorched. One eye wouldn¡¯t even open, vision lost. Every bone felt shattered, every breath a torment.


    Then it hit me¡ªI wasn¡¯t even on the ground. The filthy creature had me pinned, its mangy claws gripping my broken form, dangling me like a ragged carcass over a thick branch as it feasted¡ªon me.


    Another scorching wave of agony as that wretched beak stabbed deeper into my insides. It was eating me. Not just attacking¡ªeating me alive.


    That was it.


    A searing, blinding rage ignited within me. This filthy, feathered vermin DARED to lay its rancid claws on me? Dared to treat ME as prey?


    On instinct, my fire gland flared to life, mana coursing through my exhausted body, stamina flooding into my claws, crackling with untamed, furious power.


    The heat of anger exploded within me, igniting every nerve, every muscle.


    My claws twitched, flexing as fury consumed every inch of my battered body. The vulture¡ªoblivious, filthy¡ªthought I was dead. Its greedy beak tore through my flesh, savoring each bite like I was just another meal.


    Ahh, it was enjoying itself.


    I waited. It chewed.


    I waited. It savored.


    And I waited¡­ until the moment came.


    My flesh, too tempting to resist, lured the beast into one final mistake. Its beak edged closer, closer still, until it dug into me once again. This time, it would regret every second.


    SURPRISE, MOTHERFUCKER!


    The flare sparked, and the air around us hissed¡ªscorched by the fire building within my gland. The vulture¡¯s screech echoed across the battlefield as I unleashed it. Molten flames erupted, consuming its disgusting head in a torrent of heat, blistering and violent. Feathers blackened, curled, and burned away in an instant. Its eyes¡ªcharred, molten orbs¡ªpopped as its skin sizzled and flesh melted.


    Delicious.


    Its shrieks were music to my ears. Pure, agonized, visceral screams.


    Ahhh!


    KRRRRRRRRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!


    Now was my chance. I twisted, claws slashing upward in a flurry of movement. Stamina surged violently through them. Echo Claw. Flesh tore. Feathers scattered. The echo followed. Tearing through its innards once again.


    The vulture screeched again, its voice raw and ragged¡ªbut I wasn¡¯t done. Not yet. Not by a bloody long shot.


    SCREAM, YOU WRETCH! SCREECH LIKE THE WORTHLESS FILTH YOU ARE! LET ME DRINK IN EVERY LAST DROP OF YOUR MISERABLE PAIN!


    Another breath¡ªanother burst of flame¡ªsearing through its fresh wounds. The vulture''s claws slackened, losing their grip on my broken body. It was my turn now. My jaws snapped forward, fangs finding their mark.


    Spectral Crunch.


    Teeth sank into its scorched wing, the crack of bone beneath my bite sending another wave of satisfying agony through the vulture. Its scream filled the air again, and my heart raced with exhilaration.


    YES! More screams. More suffering.


    I held tight, claws dug deep into its hide as I yanked¡ªripped its wing clean off with a sickening tear. The creature¡¯s body slackened entirely, the pull of gravity taking us both as we plummeted to the ground.


    Falling.


    We hit the ground with a thud, pain shooting through my own body¡ªit hurt¡ªbut the thrill, the manic glee kept me going. My body felt broken, but I crawled toward the vulture, tongue lolling in sadistic glee as its desperate filthy claws flailed weakly at me.


    PATHETIC. WEAK.


    It was nothing. Less than nothing. I hovered over it, eyes wide, breath ragged. And then¡ªanother burst of flame.


    MORE SCREAMS!


    The fire surged again, swallowing the wretched form whole. The stench of burnt flesh, blood¡ªthick in the air. Fire gland? Drained. Mana? Still plenty.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    MORE FIRE!


    I pushed the flames harder, my fire gland protesting, heat searing my own skin.


    MORE SCREAMS!


    It kept howling. Good. More mana into the flames. The inferno raged on.


    But the vulture¡¯s cries began to weaken, its twitching slowing down.


    No.


    NO!


    Where were the screams? Where was the agony I craved? I needed more¡ªmore fire, more pain. But¡­


    The fire gland was empty.


    MORE FIRE!


    I bellowed, furious. No more flames? Really?


    Snarling, I searched inside for more! But I was tapped out, mana gone, drained dry. And yet the hunger, the rage, still demanded. I glared at the charred husk of the vulture as it lay there, limp, lifeless.


    SCREAM! I snarled, crushing the pitiful remains with my claws. I DEMAND IT!


    Nothing. Just smouldering, silent ashes. How dare they not scream.


    SCREAM YOU WORTHLESS SACK OF FILTH!


    I wanted to burn the earth itself. But my body, battered beyond recognition, refused to comply. No more fire. No mana.


    My breaths came in jagged bursts, but the fury refused to fade.


    Hah¡­


    I collapsed, barely breathing. And for a moment, I simply stayed there.


    Ashes.


    Empty. Hollow.


    No more fire. Just¡­ stillness.


    Why¡­ didn¡¯t they scream?


    I rolled my head through the ashes, the warmth soothing in a strange, comforting way. Ahh¡­ my rage fed on resistance, on the thrill of defiance. But now? Now that there was none, now that the vulture lay as a heap of smoldering ruin beneath me? It all ¡­slipped away. Slowly.


    Mmm¡­ these warm ashes.


    As the fury ebbed, my mind slunk back into something resembling normality. I lay there, dazed, doing nothing, the adrenaline fading along with the fire.


    Something was beneath my head. I blinked, lifting my jaw sluggishly. Ahh¡­ a swirling marble of darkness, faintly glowing beneath the soot. Monster core. I picked it up lazily and tossed it into my mouth, the jolt of energy settling in my chest. With it, the system notifications blinked on.


    There were many of them¡ªkill notification, maximum mana increase. Flamethrower had levelled up. But one message caught my eye, standing out against the rest.


    Not a notification¡ªa mission.


    Mission Alert!


    Ahh, you''ve been wounded, ambushed by low-life thieves wielding stolen power! Surely, you¡¯re not going to let them slither away unscathed?


    Objective: ELF ERADICATION!


    Task: Exterminate every thieving wretch you detected earlier. RIP THEM TO SHREDS!


    Reward: +1 Skill Point per elf killed. Bonus: +1 Technique recipe after all four are dealt with. The more creative the carnage, the higher the chance for extra rewards!


    Progress: 0/4


    Penalty: None.


    Accept: Y/N?


    I stared at the words, waiting for that familiar spark¡ªthe rage, the hunger for revenge¡ªbut instead, there was only hollowness. Just... nothing. No spark, no fury. The empty feeling lingered as I dismissed the message.


    For now, it could wait.


    My attention shifted to the scene around me as I activated Air Sense. The subtle shift in the air painted a picture of the battlefield, revealing the hidden monsters skulking about. None seemed particularly interested in me¡ªfor the moment, at least.


    Through the trees, I could still see the aftermath of the chaos. The battlefield stretched out ahead, a massive scorch mark¡ªshallow, but impressively wide¡ªetched the spot where I¡¯d once stood. Two colossal craters lay nearby, still faintly smoking from the fireballs that had rained down from above.


    Fire magic. Not exactly imaginative, but undeniably effective. Low yellow core, judging by the raw power. Fire mana¡ªgreat for destruction, rubbish for finesse.


    Several unfortunate monsters had been caught in the blast, burnt to a crisp and crushed beneath the raw force. I must¡¯ve tried to trigger Quick Dash before the second fireball hit. Maybe I did. Not fast enough, evidently.


    I glanced down at my battered body. My throat felt raw, the inside of my mouth dry, though not charred¡ªan innate immunity to my own heat, perhaps. Still, the rest of me was a wreck. One side burned, several ribs broken, and my hind leg... it refused to move properly. Each attempt sent a sharp pain shooting through my nerves.


    I was bleeding. The gaping wound where that vulture had been feasting on my flesh throbbed with every movement. Disgusting vermin. I glanced around, half-delirious, searching for something¡ªanything¡ªto help. I would''ve healed by now if I hadn''t given in to that blind fury, and left the vulture''s body intact. It had been large enough to heal me after feeding on it.


    But now?


    Just ashes. Nothing but scorched earth and the stench of death.


    And my mana¡­ drained to the dregs.


    FUCK.


    I growled, my frustration bubbling again. I needed to replenish, needed to recenter. So, I did what I had to. Dragging myself toward a nearby bush, each pull of my limbs sending waves of pain through my broken body, I activated Core Stabilization.


    Little by little, I felt the mana trickle back into me, a faint glow of strength returning to my core. It wasn¡¯t fast, but it was something. And it gave me a moment to breathe, to think.


    What the hell had I just done?


    Images of the vulture¡¯s pain played through my mind like a vivid nightmare, each scene replaying over and over. The thrill I had felt, the satisfaction at its suffering, gnawed at me now. It had been its bite¡ªits claws digging into me¡ªthat sparked the rage. But something about my reaction felt¡­ off.


    I wasn¡¯t like that. Was I?


    I had never enjoyed anyone¡¯s suffering before. The hunt was the hunt, it should end clean. Swift.


    Or¡­ was I like that?


    The question lingered, unanswered. Now, the memory of it felt wrong, unsettling, but in that moment¡­ it had felt oh so right. Where had that sheer malevolence come from? The hunger to inflict pain? I didn¡¯t know. Like so many things about this place, about me, I didn¡¯t have the answer.


    I curled over my battered form, focusing on my mana recovery. Time passed in a blur, my Air Sense scanning the area constantly. Every creature in my vicinity¡ªevery shape, every breath¡ªmapped itself out, though none moved toward me.


    Until one did.


    A new breath signature entered my range. Slow, deliberate. Moving cautiously. My focus narrowed. Close now, I could pick out more details from its breathing pattern, its gait, the way the air shifted around it. A quadruped, light-footed.


    A wolf.


    Maybe not the same one that had eyed me when I ventured out before. Maybe. But the same species, certainly. My senses flared.


    Yet, a wave of hesitation washed over me. Lingering. Pah. Really? Was I going to stop hunting because something primal and ugly had awoken within me? Because it dragged out some¡­ malevolent part? Was I seriously going to let that stop me now?


    HELL NO.


    I recentered myself, claws flexing. I had a goal¡ªget stronger, evolve, build enough mana to regain my Drakarri form. I had no time for useless musings.


    That was dungeon¡¯s first rule after all. Everything here is out to kill and devour.


    And I would be a fool to question that.


    The wolf inched closer, and I couldn''t ignore the feeling bubbling up once again¡ªexhilaration. Glee.


    I sprawled on the floor, letting my body relax into the dirt, playing the part. Steadying my breath, I activated Stealth. My chest rose and fell in a slow, practiced rhythm. Even the thunderous pounding of my heart dulled, masking my presence.


    The wolf emerged, eyes sharp with hunger. A predator. Oh, yes. I knew that look well. I was its next meal.


    Ahh, what a pitiful sight it must¡¯ve been. A broken dragon, too small for its level. Even this wolf, with its hulking frame, was bulkier than me. So much bigger. Stronger. I dragged myself across the ground, my claws digging weakly into the dirt. Each movement sluggish, deliberate. I wanted it to believe I was weak. I wanted it to think I was easy prey.


    And the fool did.


    What a graceful fella. No hesitation. No brain cells either.


    The moment it leapt into the air, its body soaring toward me with all the grace of a seasoned killer, my stance shifted in a blink.


    Quick Dash


    My one good hind leg thrust me forward, positioning me beneath it. Claws out, I tore through its underbelly using the momentum from Quick Dash. Flesh ripped apart with a delicious crunch. Echo followed, magnifying the carnage. It didn¡¯t even manage a whimper before my tail whipped out, coiling around its snout and yanking it down. With a bone-shattering thud, it hit the ground, dazed and confused.


    The hunter had become the hunted.


    Spectral Crunch¡ªI bit down on its throat, tearing through flesh and sinew in one swift, brutal motion. Its life ended before it could even register what had happened.


    [You have slain a Level 2 Lupinor Canivorax Adolescentus (III).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    Ahh, the charm of being an ambush predator. Quick, efficient, and blood-soaked. But no time to gloat¡ªI needed to heal. So, with all dignity out the window, I ripped into its carcass like a starving beast.

 Chapter 61: Playing on my own terms

    Something about the whole affair rubbed me entirely the wrong way. For starters, Lotte had let slip that the System had all but disowned humanoid species¡ªsomething about a long-standing grudge against them. Every time I crossed paths with an elf, the System flagged them as thieves. But today, it went a step further: stolen gifts.


    The puzzle pieces were falling into place, and the image they formed was anything but pleasant. Had the humanoid races truly wronged the System? Nicked something they shouldn¡¯t have? The question gnawed at me. What exactly were these so-called magic paths? And why, for Thalador¡¯s sake, were they all named after monsters everyone would gladly see torn to bits? The Blood Wyvern Path, Flame Vixen Path, Winter Salamander Path, Nature Hydra Path¡ªit was all a bit too on the nose. There was more to it, I was sure of that.


    What if¡­ these paths weren¡¯t just some arbitrary invention? What if they¡¯d been gifts from the System once upon a time?


    And then there was the curious case of Delvers. Those brave or foolish enough to go dungeon-crawling seemed to advance along these paths faster than anyone else. Theories abounded, of course. Some claimed that facing death sharpened the mind, a sort of enlightenment born from sheer terror. Others thought the extreme stress forced their bodies into rapid adaptation, a biological knee-jerk reaction to staying alive. The half-forgotten whispers from my dreams came to mind: hormonal cascades, stress-induced resilience, neural plasticity ratcheted up by the thrill of survival. All quite logical.


    But what if there was another reason?


    What if delvers gained power just like I did? By slaughtering monsters. By draining the very essence of life from their foes. Lotte¡¯s words echoed in my head¡ªthink of it more as an archivist, not the true source. The power you wield is a manifestation entirely of your own making. The power was mine, always had been. The System merely facilitated it, a bureaucrat at best. The implications left me cold.


    My theory had holes, sure, but it was starting to add up in a rather disquieting way. Too soon to draw any conclusions, though. For now, I had more immediate concerns.


    The wolf hadn¡¯t done the job of healing me fully. I cast a glance at my body¡ªscales along my flank had reformed where the burns had seared through earlier, but they were delicate, almost brittle, like the thin layer of skin after a fresh wound. Halfway healed, if that. In some places, the scales hadn¡¯t regrown at all, leaving raw patches of flesh exposed to the elements. My damaged eye had recovered a bit, but everything was still a blur on that side, not quite back to full function.


    Macro-trophic sac was doing its damned best to patch itself up, pouring every drop of nutrients and healing into the task. But the speed of it came with a price¡ªthe more the healing, the weaker the result. Flesh soft and tender, like fresh skin after a bad burn, still far too fragile for battle. I was barely holding myself together.


    Only my hind leg had made a full recovery. Small mercies, I suppose. The rest of me? A patchwork mess. If I wanted to get back to fighting form, I¡¯d need more fuel. Make a full recovery.


    I smirked, scanning the forest as my Air Sense flared out. The whole place was positively crawling with scavengers. Now prey. Excellent. Time to hunt.


    Slinking through the underbrush, I moved like a shadow¡ªsilent, unseen. Stealth at its finest. My breath barely stirred the air, my steps as quiet as a ghost¡¯s whisper. This was my domain, my element. I hid. I prowled. And when the moment struck, I''d descend like a bloody nightmare.


    This time, my mark was another wolf-like creature. No baiting games, though. The last one had fallen because I¡¯d looked like death warmed over. Luck¡ªmaybe even fate¡ªhad played its hand, and I¡¯d won. But I wasn¡¯t about to toss my chips in on luck again.


    There¡¯s merit in manipulation, sure. But I wanted something cleaner this time, no mess, no risks.


    I saw my mana settle at a whopping 49 after devouring the last wolf''s core. Not bad, really, though I¡¯d been half expecting to hit the wall at 50. What a laugh that would¡¯ve been, if the cap had caught me there. Still, I was tearing through those limits faster than I¡¯d planned.


    4 points drained, and my fire gland was full¡ª4 charges of burning flames, 5 seconds each. So far, nothing had shown resistance to my tier 3 fire gland. The Flamethrower skill was almost ready to advance as well.


    The thought put a wicked smile on my face.


    I couldn¡¯t wait.


    ***


    I crouched low, eyes locked on my next target. A wolf gnawed on its scavenged meat ahead, blissfully unaware of what lurked just beyond the trees. Perfect.


    I could unleash a flamethrower straight into its face¡ªquick, effective. But something about that felt off. It wouldn¡¯t be enough to take it down, not cleanly. Worse, it might agitate the beast, make it raise its guard, or even try to flee. Call its pack. Wolves were said to hunt in groups, after all. And this one? Stage three. I had no idea what skills it had, and frankly, I didn¡¯t care to find out. I had burst damage on my side, enough to cripple it instantly. And if anything went wrong, I could still retreat with Quick Dash.


    No, claws would do the trick. The fire? That would come later.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    I inched closer, the underbrush rustling ever so slightly, my body coiling, muscles surging with Stamina. Breath shallow, heart steady.


    The wolf stopped, sniffing the air. For a second, I tensed. Did it sense me? The last one had been drawn to my scent when I was wounded. But this one¡­ no sensing skill, apparently. Lucky.


    One more step¡­ now.


    Quick Dash.


    I darted forward, legs hitting the ground as they charged again. Close, but not close enough. The wolf¡¯s eyes widened, instinct kicking in. Too late, beastie. I vanished and reappeared, my grin practically inches from its snout, flames licking at my teeth.


    Before it could react, its throat was already slashed. Before it could howl, flames had already engulfed it. Before it could understand, the Echo clawed through its core.


    The wolf dropped. Its body slumped, charred head nearly severed from the rest. A delectable trophy. Of precision and of sheer force.


    Efficient. Clean.


    Another wolf down. Another core for the taking.


    I grinned, my tail writhing like a ribbon in the wind. I licked my choppers, savoring the taste of the kill. The smell of charred flesh in the air.


    Time for another meal.


    ***


    This time, I was fully restored. The scales toughened as I devoured more, the once smooth flesh hardened, and my right eye¡ªah, it was back to sharp, full use. I was, without a doubt, in prime fighting shape again.


    Thank bloody heavens for the Macro-tropic sac. I¡¯d thought my first evolution might end up being a cursed trade, but good God, no. I could now gorge far beyond what was once possible, and heal at a damn near miraculous rate¡ªstamina bouncing back as quick as a fox in a henhouse. No matter how brutal the hunt left me, I knew I¡¯d recover after just one proper meal.


    It made all the sense in the world to pump some morphogen into advancing this beauty of an organ, didn¡¯t it? And lucky for me, I¡¯d stockpiled enough. Forty-four of the stuff; I only needed forty to push the next step. But now wasn¡¯t the time for that.


    No, I¡¯d cooled off a bit¡ªand the anger surged right back. I still hadn¡¯t the faintest idea what was going on. Was this some monster''s turf war? Or was it something else entirely? I couldn¡¯t tell, but there was no doubt¡ªI was seething. And those elves... oh, those bastards. The moment I laid eyes on them, everything screamed wrong. They were out of place, like a rotten tooth in a smile, disrupting the natural order of this dungeon¡¯s ecosystem. Bloody invaders. And I was livid.


    I pulled up the screen again, staring at the mission. I hadn¡¯t accepted or declined, but seeing those elves stirred something fierce. I had to act. Were they just farming resources? Growing stronger by hunting the monsters here? I didn¡¯t know much about Lithrindel or Delver culture, for that matter. Maybe they understood the situation better than I did.


    Whatever it was, I¡¯d see for myself. Their magic, powerful as it was, didn¡¯t scare me. It was fire magic, clear as day. I recognised the spell too, from Flame Vixen path, yellow core. A spell that took time to channel, draining the caster in the process. But hell, it packed such a punch, the drawbacks were laughable. Two mages, at least, had to be in that group¡ªthere were two distinct spells that had hit.


    Ah, fuck it. My wings bristled. I couldn¡¯t let those wretches walk away with it, now could I?


    I once again found myself on the outskirts of the battlefield. And, by all the gods, it was getting foggy in here. The fight was still raging¡ªmore bodies littering the ground, and scavengers were starting to creep in, scavenging for scraps like vultures. I scrambled up the tallest tree nearby, scanning the carnage from above.


    Another blast echoed from the centre, followed by a bone-shaking boom. That colossal serpent and the behemoth were still locked in combat, but the steam and mist had thickened, making it impossible to see the details. Still, the sounds of battle were unmistakable.


    But then¡ªthere, through the haze¡ªI spotted them. Four silhouettes. They fancied themselves hidden, but my Air Sense and the faintest shadows betrayed them. My eyes narrowed as I focused on the figure in front, holding a staff. An elven woman. She was chanting. There wasn¡¯t any visible matrix around her until I caught a flicker at the staff¡¯s tip¡ªsomething glowing.


    I¡¯d never seen a mage from the Flame Vixen path actually cast a spell. I¡¯d read about it, sure, obsessing over magic in my usual fashion, but this? Seeing it? This was something else entirely.


    My gaze drifted back over the battlefield, and through the fog¡ªholy shit! I could just make out glowing red lines and runes. A massive matrix was taking shape right over another monster group. These bastards had been using the chaos to slaughter their way through, picking off monsters while everyone else was distracted.


    I glanced back to the mage, and there it was¡ªa grin. Two warriors flanked her, big brutes in leather armour, swords out, standing guard. But they were relaxed, laughing like this was all a joke. Their eyes locked onto the forming matrix above the battlefield, and they chuckled like the filthy cowards they were.


    They laughed.


    A massive fireball took shape.


    They laughed.


    It descended, and I heard the anguished screams as it tore through the dungeon¡¯s creatures. The air was filled with the stench of burning flesh, and they DARED to laugh again?


    These vile invaders, corrupting the natural order, attacking monsters in their own territory, on sacred hunting grounds. And they had the sheer gall to laugh while they slaughtered?


    I felt something snap, like a taut string inside my head. A window popped up in my vision.


    Mission Accepted!


    They would¡¯ve walked away unscathed¡ªif it weren¡¯t for me. Their smug little display, their arrogance in the face of slaughter, would¡¯ve carried on unchecked. But I¡¯d caught them. And perhaps they knew, just as well as I did, that once they¡¯d set foot in this place, they¡¯d joined the dungeon¡¯s twisted game. They weren¡¯t just intruders anymore; they were players. No different from me, no different from the beasts they hunted. Prey, just waiting for their turn.


    This place wasn¡¯t just a pit for survival of the fittest¡ªit was a forge. A crucible where power was hammered out of blood, bone, and desperation. Every kill was a step toward something greater. Growth. Evolution.


    Seize every fucking chance, because they¡¯d vanish faster than a rabbit in a hawk¡¯s shadow. Every little opportunity dangling in front of you¡ªtake it. That was the rule.


    And I didn¡¯t need the System flashing its little reminders to know it. This time, the moment was mine, no puppet strings forcing me to act. I wanted this. I wanted to turn the tables, to make them the prey for once.


    I¡¯d had enough of whatever game was being played. Now, I¡¯d be playing it on my terms. No more standing idly by, letting fate have its way. No, I¡¯d be seizing it, shoving it, until the only outcome was the one I fucking wanted.


    Something shifted, cold as a dagger to the spine. Perhaps that close brush with death had opened my eyes. I¡¯d stared down the void and seen something lurking in the depths of my mind, something sinister that had been biding its time, waiting.


    My gaze locked on the mage, a grin stretched across my face, almost painful in its hunger.


    And I wasn¡¯t about to deny it. Not anymore.

 Chapter 62: Tired

    First step: observe.


    Their routine was painfully predictable. The elven mage would channel her spells, unleashing destruction while her two armoured warriors stood guard, ready to carve through anything that dared get close. The second mage, tucked beneath a hood, kept to the shadows, casting strange distortion spells that turned the warriors into little more than blurs of movement. Intriguing, really. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder¡ªdid the spell have range limits? Could they only stay hidden if they stuck together? But for now, they worked as a well-oiled machine.


    The warriors would break away when monsters or scavengers wandered too close, making short work of them. The cloaked mage followed in their distorted shadow, always in sync. After each wave, they¡¯d pause, gather the monster cores, and stand still there for a minute for whatever reason. Till then the first mage would mop up whatever remained with smaller, precise spells.


    Efficient. Ruthlessly efficient. It reeked of experience, of cold strategy honed by countless kills.


    Not that it surprised me. My mind was icy, the anger burning like a smouldering coal beneath the surface. I could almost hear the gears turning in their heads¡ªthese elves had found something valuable, some resource in these monsters. Maybe it was the cores, or perhaps their organs. Could¡¯ve even been the raw experience, turning bloodshed into power. I didn¡¯t know. I didn¡¯t care.


    Like them, I had the strength to take whatever I wanted. To use it however I pleased. Why should I feel the slightest twinge of guilt? These elves were butchers, no different from me. They ambushed and slaughtered creatures in this battlefield, and I intended to do the very same to them. For all I knew, they¡¯d carved out a nice chunk of forest somewhere, built walls, set up fences¡ªturned the dungeon into their little playground.


    This was how things worked down here. The strong took. The weak got trampled. No room for guilt, no moral high ground¡ªjust survival, raw and unflinching.


    The monsters in this place were little more than fodder. Their intelligence, if you could even call it that, was laughable. Especially compared to mine, already high, now sharpened further by two rounds of Gold-rank evolution. They could be baited, tricked, and dispatched with the barest hint of strategy. The elves knew it too. That¡¯s why they lounged there, relaxed and grinning, knowing these low-tier beasts posed no threat. The creatures were too caught up in their own frenzied bloodlust, oblivious to the quiet, invisible killers picking them off from a distance.


    It made me wonder¡ªwhy didn¡¯t the System warn the other monsters? Why hadn¡¯t it alerted them to the elves? It wasn¡¯t as though it lacked the ability. It notified me, didn¡¯t it? The moment I spotted them, the mission had appeared.


    Maybe there was a condition to it. Maybe the System only reacted once I became aware. But whatever the reason, it didn¡¯t matter.


    I had to act.


    And I didn¡¯t think.


    The underbrush rustled softly beneath me as I slithered closer to the group, heart pounding with a steady rhythm. The anger burned hot in my veins, driving me forward, the rage was sharper than any fear. Soon, I reached the edge of a clearing, where the elves had trimmed back branches and brush to create a tidy little vantage point of the battlefield.


    I crouched low, waiting, watching as the warriors descended once more onto the field. This was it. In a perfect world, I¡¯d pick them off one by one like an assassin in a bad novel. But I wasn¡¯t that cocky¡ªnot here. At the very least, I could throw a wrench in their tedious slaughter. Shake up their well-rehearsed little routine.


    With a slow, deliberate breath, I focused. Four mana points surged into the fire gland, warming it, igniting my attack.


    No more thinking¡ªjust action.


    Inch by inch, I crept forward, closing the gap between me and the mage left behind, her nose too far up in the air casting piddly little spells for her comrades. Clueless to the fact that I was right there, breathing down her neck. Perfect.


    I positioned myself, maw aimed, and let Flamethrower rip.


    Fwoosh!


    A streak of blistering fire erupted from my jaws, cutting through the air toward the back of her head. The flames roared and hissed, burning with a ferocity that could melt bone. But just as the fire was about to make contact, it splattered against an invisible barrier, spreading out like molten metal against glass.


    Expected.


    A mage on the Flame Vixen path wouldn¡¯t be caught dead without a shielding enchantment. Her reaction was immediate¡ªshe spun around, wide-eyed, her gaze frantically searching for the source of the attack.


    Too late. I was already gone, using two Quick Dashes to disappear back into the thicket. Stealth active, I watched her from the shadows, motionless, my breath silent. She fumbled, scanning the area with rising tension. But at her yellow stage? Please. She didn¡¯t have any mana detection spells, not with the path she¡¯d chosen. After a few moments of confusion, she exhaled, her guard lowering as she convinced herself it was a fluke.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Ah, how delightfully naive.


    I shifted position again, the underbrush rustling slightly, but her inferior senses didn¡¯t pick up on a thing. Those pointy ears of hers were just for show.


    I launched another torrent of flames.


    Crack-boom!


    The fire slammed into her barrier once more, this time with a thunderous explosion.


    The flames crackled uselessly against her barrier, struggling to gnaw through that irritating layer of defence. A fancy little trinket, no doubt¡ªbut even the finest of baubles can only take so much abuse. The mage, fully realising she wasn¡¯t dealing with a campfire here, whirled around, her face twisted with fury. Whatever spell she''d been brewing got tossed aside, and she sent a vicious jet of flame from her hand, flinging it about like a crazed arsonist, scorching everything in sight.


    Fortunately, I wasn¡¯t daft enough to hang about after riling her up. I¡¯d already pulled back to a safer distance, well before she started her pyrotechnic display. Still, I could feel the heat simmering in the air. Impressive? Perhaps. But it was... lacking. Maybe it was my natural fire resistance, or the simple fact that I¡¯d already walked away from her earlier attempt to incinerate everything in her path¡ªexcept me, of course.


    After a while, she stopped, her face contorted with irritation as she glared at the smouldering wreckage, clearly trying to sniff me out. Too bad, love¡ªnot about to roll out the red carpet for you.


    But she had other problems¡ªher friends were in desperate need of a hand, and with an exasperated huff, she turned back to the battlefield, slinging smaller spells about while casting nervous glances over her shoulder. And just like that, her back was to me again. Perfect.


    A few swift moves later, I was in position, and I unleashed another searing burst at her barrier. This time, cracks appeared, spiderwebbing across the surface. Panic set in¡ªher head snapped around, and she let out her first shriek of alarm.


    Oh, bloody hell.


    Time to move. No second-guessing. Instead of retreating, I charged, launching another fire blast at her weakening shield. With a sound like shattering glass, the barrier crumbled, and her eyes went wide as my flames engulfed her. She screamed¡ªa high, gut-wrenching screech¡ªas she crumpled to the ground.


    That was enough. I lunged forward, claws outstretched, momentum driving me. With a sickening thud, my claws buried deep in her stomach. Her eyes went wider still, shock and pain clouding her gaze. Blood sprayed from her mouth as I followed with another brutal strike, Echo kicking in for the final blow. Her staff slipped from her fingers, clattering to the ground like the useless stick it was.


    But just as I was about to enjoy the moment, a deafening roar ripped through the air. Something fast¡ªtoo fast to properly track¡ªhurtled towards me. Instinct kicked in¡ªI dropped her lifeless form and bolted, just as an explosion tore the ground where I¡¯d stood moments before. A smouldering crater remained, a smoking reminder of how close I¡¯d come to being a pile of ash.


    One of her brutish friends had arrived. A hulking mass of muscle and barely-restrained fury, wielding an axe that looked far too eager to split me right down the middle. His eyes locked onto me, burning with a seething rage that promised nothing pleasant.


    I kept moving, my form a blur, meeting that brute¡¯s fiery glare with one of my own. He clearly wanted to follow, but something else demanded his attention. Unfortunate. Seemed I hadn¡¯t quite finished off the fire mage. My window to strike had slammed shut. Her entire team had gathered, and I pulled back into the shadows. I didn¡¯t care what became of her, but she was in no shape to fight again anytime soon. I half-hoped the big muscle-head would come after me so I could lay a proper ambush, but he stayed put. These weren¡¯t mindless beasts after all¡ªthey were elves. Intelligent ones, at that.


    I tried. But I wasn¡¯t ready for them yet. Especially not a group. More strength¡ªthat¡¯s what I needed. More power. I dug my claws into the bark of a nearby tree, surveying the battlefield. The hill they¡¯d been using as a base was now abandoned, and the mage I¡¯d torn into was being force-fed a green potion by the hooded support. The axe-wielding brute kept watch while another, armed with a sword, harvested the cores and organs of the fallen monsters around them.


    I watched, fury simmering beneath my skin, as her wounds knit themselves back together. A high-grade healing potion, no doubt, given the speed of her recovery. Tch. I half-expected her to bleed out, but that damn elixir had pulled her right back from death¡¯s doorstep. Still, she wouldn¡¯t be fighting any time soon. A healing potion could patch up flesh, but it couldn¡¯t replace what was lost¡ªnamely, her blood. She¡¯d be out of commission for a while yet. Inferior methods.


    Now they were gathered, having a little meeting while keeping an eye on their surroundings. Was she thanking him? She bloody well should be, considering she¡¯d be a corpse right now if it weren¡¯t for him. The taste of bitterness clung to my tongue, but it was what it was. Once I mastered basic lightning spells, these little pests wouldn¡¯t know what hit them.


    My gaze shifted to the fallen beasts, felled while fighting for their lives against these thieves. Numbness settled in, though a flicker of anger remained. My moral compass had long since skewed, but that didn¡¯t change the facts. As soon as the elves vanished into the bushes, I turned my attention elsewhere.


    There was a heap of morphogen waiting for me. And I¡¯d be a fool to pass up on that.


    ***


    Seemed I¡¯d hit the wall¡ª52 points of mana, and that was my lot. Every time I tried to swallow down more cores, the same message flashed up like a smug little reminder:


    [Mana Capacity Reached: Core Expansion Required for Further Increase. Evolution Necessary.]


    So, that was it for now. Still, I gathered up the remaining cores, only 13 left on the outskirts. Not much, but I tucked them under a nearby tree for later. My little buffet of corpses had reached its limit too¡ªI''d devoured around 17 monsters before my body threw up a metaphorical "no vacancy" sign. Even with the Macro-trophic sac enhancing my digestion, 17 beasts was no small feast. I suppose it made sense. A creature can only shove so much down before it all becomes a bit much.


    One glance at the battlefield told me the fight was still in full swing. Roars and crashes echoed from the centre. Deafening. Relentless. The behemoth and the serpent were still at each other¡¯s throats, neither showing any sign of backing down.


    Welp, I¡¯d gotten what I came for. I¡¯d disrupted those thieves, scooped up enough morphogen to fuel my next advances, and could feel myself pushing closer to the next stage. Physically, I was still raring to go, but mentally? I was drained. Exhausted, really. It was time to improve the Macro-trophic sac, get some proper rest, and finally sit down with Lotte.


    I needed to choose my Lightning Magic Path. Time to take that leap.


    Of course, that was assuming Lotte agreed to teach me.

 Chapter 63: Choices

    I needed something to carry all this lot. Leaving these precious monster cores scattered about was hardly an option. And if I¡¯d had something useful on hand when I first stumbled upon that Noctis Bloom, I wouldn¡¯t have dropped it like a clumsy fool. Rare as it was, a find that valuable ought to be cherished, not abandoned because some lumbering beast decided to interrupt. Tch. Annoying.


    Hah. There wasn¡¯t much about that looked sturdy enough to hold anything, or so I thought. But no, that wasn¡¯t entirely true. There was something¡ªmy claws might not be made for holding onto things, and given my small frame, it was futile to even try. But there was a solution, alright.


    I glanced at the battlefield below, surveying the mess of carnage. Monster corpses strewn about like a banquet for scavengers. One of them ought to do nicely. Their skin was tough enough¡ªgranted, it wouldn¡¯t be refined, but it¡¯d be serviceable. A bit rough, perhaps, but it¡¯d function as a container, no doubt.


    My eyes narrowed in on a suitable carcass¡ªwell, ¡°intact¡± was a stretch. It was more of a pile of flesh and fur that hadn¡¯t been completely pulverised. Close enough.


    With a quick flick of my wings, I launched myself downward, letting Flight guide me as I angled my descent to conserve a bit of energy. The air thinned as I sped up, adjusting my wingtips to reduce drag and generate just enough lift to glide smoothly.


    Touchdown wasn¡¯t exactly graceful. My claws bit into the hide, but when I tried to take off again, I dropped like a stone and landed with an ungainly thud. Still needed practice with that.


    Well, never mind that. I seized the carcass and gave it a good yank. The skin was thick and leathery, reminiscent of crocodile hide but a touch more pliable. Just what I needed.


    Another flight later, I had the body dragged to a safer spot. I got to work right away, inspecting the hide for any weak points¡ªparticularly along the folds where the skin had started to separate from the muscle near the belly. My claws may not have been ideal for gripping, but they were certainly sharp enough to slice through the tough tissue. I applied pressure, sliding the tip along a natural seam near its torso, peeling back layers in long, deliberate motions. The skin¡¯s elasticity made things easier, the friction doing most of the work as I severed the connective fibers.


    A few more well-placed cuts and I had a decent-sized sheet of hide¡ªthick and sturdy enough to fashion into a rough satchel. It wasn¡¯t elegant; lacking proper tools, there¡¯d be no reinforcement or fancy stitching, but functionally? It would serve. I folded the hide over, lashing the edges together with sinew remnants and tying crude knots to secure it. Simple, but effective.


    Satisfied, I tested the makeshift sack, giving it a good tug to ensure it could handle the weight of the cores. It held. For now, this would do.


    I turned back to where the cores were hidden beneath a nearby tree and stuffed the precious orbs into their new leather home. They clinked softly as they settled inside. It would¡¯ve been ideal to find some sturdy vines so I could sling the thing over my shoulder, but there wasn¡¯t a single one fit for the task. Ah well, clutching it in my hands would have to suffice for now.


    Old me would¡¯ve gagged at the sight of this bloody excuse for a satchel, but right now? It was like putting coins in my dessert. Hardly elegant, but it would do the job. Plus, it was roomy enough to stash other valuables¡ªherbs, alchemical ingredients, what have you. Some recipes were basic enough that even without proper tools, I should manage.


    I cast one last glance in the direction where those elves had vanished. As much as I wanted to chase after them earlier, I knew better. Charging in headfirst while bone-tired was just asking for trouble. I¡¯d be more likely to trip over my own feet than actually catch them.


    Hah.


    I shook it off, turned away, and spread my wings. With my makeshift satchel clutched in my claws, I took off. Retracing my path was easy enough¡ªBehemoth had carved a wide, ugly swath through the forest. I kept close to the treetops, orienting myself with the crevice above the cavern and following the claw marks I¡¯d left on the trees. Soon enough, I was on the right track.


    Air Sense helped me skirt around any monsters lurking nearby, though the exhaustion was starting to creep in. My head felt sluggish, like it was trying to lull me to sleep mid-flight. I shook it off. I was almost there.


    As I swooped down to the little nook beneath the tree, I sensed a breath signature inside.


    Huh?


    The issue wasn¡¯t that there was a breath signature, but that I recognized it. I didn¡¯t waste a second and poked my head in, all bristled and indignant.


    It was that blasted Badger again! What was it doing here? Didn¡¯t it know this was my hideout now? I saved its life, for crying out loud! The least it could do was show some gratitude and clear off.


    It froze when it saw my scowling face appear in the entrance. Alright, fine¡ªmaybe it was its home to begin with, but that didn¡¯t change the fact that I deserved a bit of compensation. I was practically doing it a favor by moving in.


    Wait a minute.


    Only now did I notice the dead rat-like creature clutched in its sharp little claws. About the same size as the Badger itself. Even though it was rooted to the spot, it slowly pushed the offering towards me.


    An offering?


    Without a second thought, I slithered inside and snatched it up, swallowing the thing in one gulp.


    [Morphogen source assimilated.]


    No other notifications popped up¡ªless than one Morphogen''s worth. But, well, that wasn¡¯t the point. It didn¡¯t seem like the Badger had any ill intentions. Quite the opposite, really.


    The Badger visibly relaxed as I settled down. Maybe it was just instinct, some gut-level understanding that I wasn¡¯t about to chase it out or eat it. Either way, it seemed to grasp the situation: I was in charge here. Or maybe it was just smart enough to read the room¡ªintelligence was a stat, after all, and this little Badger seemed to have a bit of it.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Well¡­ that was something. I watched as it shuffled over to a corner of the nook while I took my place in the back. Odd arrangement, sharing a hideout with a Badger. But to be fair, I didn¡¯t actually want to eat it. It was small and kind of cute, in a scruffy, half-starved sort of way. Hmph! Reckless on its part, though. Any other monster would¡¯ve gobbled it up in a heartbeat. If I had the energy, or even the inclination, I might¡¯ve given it a good scolding for being so careless.


    But I had other matters to attend to.


    First things first.


    Mutations. Ugh. Time to see what I was working with. I summoned my stat screen.


    Name: Jade


    Level: 5


    Species: Voracious Manaweaver (Draconis) (III)


    Abilities: Mana Devourer


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 25


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 42


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 50


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 37


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 40/52


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 52/52


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Echo Claw Swipe: Level 1 (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Shadow Blur: Level 1 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Spectral Crunch: Level 1 (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Rapid Recovery Dash: Level 1 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flight: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Deep Breathing: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Breath of Shadows: Level 1 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Climb: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crush Claw: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flamethrower: Level 4 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Manipulation: Level 4 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Lightning Affinity: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes - Focusing Lenses, Peripheral Optimization (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws - Claw Flexibility, Razor-Edge Claws (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales - Colour Adaptation, Shock-Absorbent Scales (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings - Hollow Bones (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir, Mana Conservation (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac - Stamina Surge Reservoir (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Conduit Vasculature - Micro-Mana Control (II): +0


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 1


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 76


    </li>


    </ul>


    Almost at 80, eh? Just four short. Would''ve had enough for both the Mana Conduit Vasculature and the Macro-Trophic Sac. But no matter¡ªnow I can push the sac up another advancement and boost the vasculature to +4. Should do the trick.


    I yawned, glancing at the screen. Damn, I was knackered. Stuffed myself silly, and this little nook was proper snug. Even had a badger keeping watch, or so it seemed. Not quite, but it was cozy enough down here.


    I focused back on the screen, and soon the window popped up.


    Would you like to use 12 Morphogen to upgrade Mana Conduit Vasculature and Macro-Trophic Sac?


    Oh, joy. Another round of agony. Just part of the routine at this point. Right, let''s get this bloody thing over with, then!


    ****


    For some reason, the badger didn''t even flinch while I cursed every deity I could name and mutated my guts out. We both knew the score¡ªmutating wasn¡¯t exactly a picnic. He just shifted and kept watch, eyes darting anxiously outside the nook as I writhed in pain.


    Nice of him, really.


    But finally, it was done. Breath coming in ragged gasps, I stared at the screen. Ha! About time! Felt like I''d spent an eternity torturing myself. But I''d made it. And damn, the new options looked absolutely mouth-watering.


    ? Nutrient Overclocking: Excess nutrients stored passively during feeding. Temporarily boosts physical stats (strength, durability, speed) by overloading the system with stored nutrients. Cooldown period enforced to prevent post-activation exhaustion.


    ? Anabolic Reserves: Enhances muscle and tissue regeneration over time. Stores excess nutrients for passive emergency healing during injury, focusing on sustained recovery.


    ? Super-Stamina Reserves: Increases Stamina Surge Reservoir capacity by 100%, allowing extended stamina boosts during combat. Reduces downtime and accelerates stamina regeneration during rest periods.


    ? Mana Feedback Loop: Stores nutrients passively during feeding, converting nutrient energy into mana. Restores mana when below 25% of capacity, and increases stamina regeneration when stamina falls below 25%. Efficiently balances mana and stamina needs.


    ? Toxicity Neutralizer: Advanced filtering mechanism converts harmful substances into usable mana. Grants poison immunity from ingested or inhaled toxins, enabling safe digestion and mana conversion from toxic entities.


    Rare organs! A whole different breed, indeed. Each option, absolute units in their own right.


    Nutrient Overclocking. A proper powerhouse. The idea of dialing up physical stats on demand, like cranking the volume to eleven, was bloody brilliant. Of course, there¡¯d be a cooldown¡ªyou couldn¡¯t ride the high forever without a crash. But the raw, destructive burst of strength in that moment? Oh, that was tempting. Last time, I¡¯d had something similar, but this time, I¡¯d be stockpiling the nutrients needed to fuel it. A solid upgrade all around.


    Anabolic Reserves. The slow-and-steady approach, eh? Emergency healing, muscle and tissue repair quietly ticking away in the background, biding its time for when this unpredictable dungeon inevitably decided to chew me up. Could come in handy, that¡ªespecially after my latest escapade. Suppose I found myself without a tasty wolf to snack on. Could very well save me from an untimely, and rather unpleasant, demise. Granted, I¡¯d been a bit daft last round, but it wasn¡¯t all on me¡ªthose damned Elves were crafty as anything.


    Right, three more to go.


    Super-Stamina Reserves? An upgrade on top of an already decent foundation. For anyone perpetually on the move, always flying, fighting, or fleeing, that¡¯d be an absolute godsend. One could build themselves into an unstoppable force¡ªnever pausing, never tiring. Though, truth be told, I was already starting to feel the weight of fatigue pulling at my eyelids. I stifled a yawn. Still, would I end up burning myself out like a candle lit at both ends?


    Focus, now.


    Mana Feedback Loop. This one was the odd one out, but I could tell right away¡ªthere was serious potential here. Balance, eh? Between two critical forces. None of the other options had touched on mana till now, but this one did. A steady stream of nutrients converting to mana and stamina, keeping the reserves topped up. Efficient, reliable¡ªperfect for feeding two key resources my abilities thrived on. It was universal, a benefit that would always come in handy.


    And finally, Toxicity Neutralizer. Now that had some intrigue. Immunity to ingested poisons? Converting deadly toxins into mana? Talk about versatility. Up till now, I¡¯d been steering clear of anything that looked too noxious, though I¡¯d already developed some natural resistance¡ªafter all, I¡¯d eaten just about everything without much trouble. But if this choice kept cropping up, it meant there was a poison out there that would get the better of me. Even the stuff those delvers might be packing.


    It wasn¡¯t just about eating, though¡ªanything toxic I inhaled would be consumed and turned into mana. The possibilities were endless. Being an alchemy enthusiast, I knew my way around a few noxious recipes, thanks to Lotte. So it wasn¡¯t hard to picture¡ªsetting off a cloud of toxins, damaging everything around me while I stood there, immune, regenerating mana as I breathed it in. The idea alone was enough to blow one¡¯s mind.


    I let out a deep sigh as I glanced over the screen. Each choice had its own pull, each potent in its own way. There wasn¡¯t a wrong answer here, but picking one would set the course for my path ahead.


    And I could only choose one.

 Chapter 64: Something Terrible Awaits Beyond

    After a fair bit of dithering over what to pick¡ªor rather, what not to¡ªmy patience was wearing thin. Honestly, why must it always come down to just one choice? Two options stood out: the Toxicity Neutralizer and the Mana Feedback Loop.


    The Mana Feedback Loop would be a game-changer for sustaining my mana reserves once I started flinging spells around. But then again, the Toxicity Neutralizer... well, that would grant me outright immunity to poisons, whether ingested or inhaled. A gift that would stay useful forever. Just think of the mischief I could cause with it! If breathing in toxins could convert them to mana, I could whip up some deadly concoction, slap on a mask, and inhale my way to a full mana bar. The potential there was simply too much to brush aside.


    As I simmered in quiet frustration, the little badger scurried off. I didn¡¯t think much of it¡ªat first. But soon enough, it came bounding back, dragging a freshly killed mouse between its teeth. With a rather smug look (as much as a badger can manage), it nudged the limp thing toward me.


    ¡°Huh?¡± I blinked, thrown by the gesture.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    It seemed the little creature knew I¡¯d just mutated, and after the whole body-altering, morphogen-draining affair, it was normal for a bit of hunger to kick in. Clearly, the badger reckoned I¡¯d need a snack. There was something oddly shy about the way it looked up at me, almost sheepish, as if it wasn¡¯t sure whether I¡¯d appreciate its offering. Its body tensed, claws shifting nervously, ready to bolt at the first hint of rejection.


    I stared at the dead rodent for a moment, emotions I couldn¡¯t quite name swirling inside me. Eating it wouldn¡¯t do much for me¡ªtoo small, little to no morphogen. But for the badger? It was a token, a gesture of sorts. Some primitive instinct whispered that refusing it would be akin to rejecting the creature itself, and for reasons I couldn¡¯t fully explain, that just didn¡¯t sit right with me.


    A faint tug of... something settled in my chest. Perhaps monsters weren¡¯t all about endless hunts and ravenous devouring. There was something more to it, a deeper thread.


    With a sigh, I pressed a claw against the mouse¡¯s chubby form, slicing it cleanly in half. The badger¡¯s eyes widened as I nudged one half toward it and popped the other into my mouth.


    Juicy. Rather like a tomato¡ªif tomatoes had an earthy, peppery kick.


    ¡°Hmm, not bad,¡± I murmured, chewing slowly.


    Then it hit me¡ªcould I ever go back to human food after this? The thought stirred a flicker of revulsion. Ugh. Probably not.


    The badger, still uncertain, stared at its half of the mouse until I gave it a little prod. ¡°Go on, that¡¯s for you.¡±


    It hesitated for a moment, then let out a pleased grunt and wolfed down its share. Ah, I had half a mind to pat it on the head, but my claws weren¡¯t exactly made for affection. Pity.


    Odd, this strange warmth creeping in. Perhaps I was going mad¡ªor perhaps I was beginning to understand this whole monster business more than I¡¯d thought.


    With that, I turned back to my options, stifling a yawn. Right, time for another round of scrutinizing the fine print. After all that fuss, I¡¯d finally reached a decision.


    The potential that the Toxin Neutralizer offered to someone like me was simply too good to pass up. Apologies, Mana Feedback Loop¡ªno matter how powerful you seemed, I couldn¡¯t overlook the sheer possibilities with Toxin Neutralizer on my side. Decision made, I confirmed my choice. Another round of searing agony followed. But at this point, I was getting used to it.


    Ah, the raw, delicious thrill of these upgrades¡ªpain was just a passing sensation.


    Once the ordeal subsided, I turned my focus to practicing the Mana Manipulation skill, pushing until my core was entirely drained. No notification for an upgrade yet, but I could feel it¡ªI was close. Almost there. Once Lotte taught me anything, even the basics, I knew I¡¯d be flinging spells in no time. The badger watched with wide eyes as the entire nook shimmered in electric blue, sparks crackling in the air. I was just brute-forcing the lightning mana, really, but it certainly put on quite a show for the little thing.


    I stifled another yawn, and the badger seemed to notice. There was a curious gleam in its eye as it twirled around and settled near the entrance, keeping a watchful eye out. I couldn¡¯t help but question its intelligence again¡ªdid it really think, from my yawns, that I was about to sleep and had taken it upon itself to stand guard? No matter. I was too exhausted to entertain the thought.


    I let my eyes drift shut, and sleep claimed me the moment they closed.


    ***


    I didn¡¯t fall¡ªagain. Just like last time. Ever since I became a dragon, my days of dropping out of the sky seemed to be behind me. Hilarious, really, when you think about it.


    For a while, I just sprawled in the soft grass, watching the clouds drift lazily by. Same as last time. Only this time, I was different. No longer a pudgy little hatchling. I¡¯d grown¡ªa bit longer, a bit more graceful. My tail, once stubby, had stretched into something sleek, serpentine, and oh yes¡ªdeadly. Very deadly.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    No more stumbling over my own limbs. My body obeyed with the fluidity of a serpent¡¯s dance, every claw and fang sharper, every motion refined to a lethal edge. Built to kill. Made to carve and cleave with chilling efficiency.


    Then came the rumble, as the ground trembled beneath the weight of a massive shadow. Lotte loomed over me, still as ridiculously enormous as ever. One of her claws alone could probably crush me in an instant.


    Honestly, the thought crossed my mind¡ªif she ever had access to the kind of skills I¡¯d picked up, she could probably reduce cities to rubble with a flick of her tail. A single dash would level the place. A flamethrower? Everything as far as the eye could see would be scorched to ash.


    ¡°You return sooner than I had anticipated,¡± her voice purred within my thoughts. Was that a hint of sarcasm laced within her tone?


    I flashed a cheeky grin. ¡°Aww, did you actually miss me this time?¡±


    She huffed, shifting her massive hood with a casual grace. ¡°Certainly not. It was rather serene without you incessantly probing me about herbs and enchantments.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I tried,¡± I shot back. ¡°But even then, all you gave me were cryptic hints. I had to piece it all together on my own! The only time you really helped was when I was on the verge of getting myself killed!¡±


    ¡°I stand by that,¡± Lotte retorted with a snort. ¡°Learning through direct experience is the most effective means of ensuring it sticks.¡±


    Her eyes glinted with curiosity. ¡°But I¡¯m certain a wealth of intriguing events unfolded during your absence. You''re simply itching to share, so out with it.¡±


    I felt a spark of excitement¡ªof course I wanted to tell her. It had been an eventful time, to say the least. But first¡­


    With a gleeful laugh, I unfurled my wings and shot into the air. Lotte¡¯s towering form dwindled below as I climbed higher. Her laughter echoed in my mind, and I heard the earth shudder as she too took flight.


    I tilted my gaze skyward. In the real world, I¡¯d always been too afraid to fly¡ªafraid of what might see me, or what I might see. But here, in this dreamscape, I wanted to test my limits, to see how high I could soar. There was something about the sky¡ªabout the way the air curled around me. I felt each shift in the wind as I angled my wings to catch it just right, balancing lift and drag, pushing to the edge of a stall but never quite falling.


    Every beat of my wings was precise, every breath of air a challenge I embraced with a wild, reckless joy.


    My eyes snapped open, reaching instinctively for that endless, elusive sky. I was lost in the symphony of flight, wings beating in perfect rhythm, the sky¡¯s embrace vast and eternal. I didn¡¯t know how long I had been soaring, and I didn¡¯t care. I just flew¡ªlost in the motion, wing after wing carving through the air, the world below fading into a blur. My focus narrowed, the beat of my wings sharp and precise, the rush of the wind a song I could never tire of.


    Higher, I climbed. Through the clouds, tearing right through them. Each beat a pulse of strength. Lift. Drag. Speed. Endless. The sky¡¯s call just beyond my reach. The air grew thinner. The pressure dropped. But still, I climbed. Nothing but the sky to hold me.


    Then, abruptly, it all stopped. A familiar force snatched me mid-flight.


    "LOTTE!" I shouted, indignation flaring as I glared at her massive silhouette, which hovered calmly behind me.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ascend any higher,¡± she said, her voice composed, almost too calm. I just stared at her, defiance simmering under my scales.


    "Is it because of the thinning air?" I shot back. "I know it¡¯s getting harder to breathe, but I can handle it! You trust me, Lotte¡ªI know I can reach just a bit higher!" I pleaded, my gaze drifting upward. "Besides, it¡¯s a dream, isn¡¯t it? It¡¯s not like it could actually hurt me¡­ It¡¯s strange, though. It feels like the sky is calling to me..."


    Yes¡­ just a little more. I could feel it wrapping around me, coiling like something alive, whispering, twisting, waiting¡ªready to embrace me, to welcome me. The sky itself was inviting me in, and I was ready to give in¡ª


    But Lotte¡¯s eyes remained fixed on me, her hood shifting as she let out a low, rumbling growl, her gaze flicking sharply to the sky above.


    ¡°Head back. I¡¯ll return shortly,¡± she said, her voice warm but carrying a dangerous edge. She kept her glare locked on the heavens, and before I could protest, I felt a force launch me downwards.


    AAAAAAA¡ª


    The scream tore from my throat as I plummeted, the ground rushing up to meet me. The last thing I sensed was the beat of Lotte¡¯s wings, climbing higher and higher, leaving me to fall.


    ***


    Well, that was a bit of a head-scrambler. Not that I was hurt or anything, just this odd feeling that came over me the higher I soared. It was like my urge to reach out and touch the sky multiplied tenfold. Bloody strange. Really bloody strange. And unsettling, to be honest.


    Not long after, Lotte made her appearance in the sky once more, and naturally, I had to ask her what in the hell just happened. Some kind of bizarre dream phenomenon, perhaps? And the way she snarled at the sky with that look in her eye... I had a sinking feeling I already knew the answer.


    ¡°Nothing that concerns you,¡± she said, a warning edge to her voice. ¡°And heed this: even in the waking world, never surpass a certain height in the sky.¡±


    Well, that made it plain enough¡ªI wasn¡¯t meant to know whatever it was. Off-limits. Forbidden knowledge. I just stared up at the sky and asked, "And what would¡¯ve happened if I¡¯d gone through with it?"


    She paused, weighing her words. ¡°Something terrible awaits beyond.¡±


    "Even in a dream?" I shot back. This place had always been my refuge¡ªa sanctuary, or so I thought. But recently, I''d come to realize it was more than just a dream. The way Lotte could reach me outside, that odd metallic plant, Barn¡¯s sudden appearance here¡ªit was all adding up to something else entirely.


    Lotte gave a curt nod, not inclined to elaborate. Typical.


    Anyway, enough of the creepy sky nonsense. I shook my head to clear it. Focus, Jade. Lotte was here, and there wasn¡¯t a sky in the world, or dream, that could harm me while she was around. Right.


    So, I launched into the tale I¡¯d been dying to tell her, recounting every detail since we last spoke. The frenzy, the rush, the thrill of the hunt. My evolution, encountering my doppelg?nger, the scheme that obliterated an entire dungeon section, Barn¡¯s battle with the Queen. Every little exhilarating bit.


    Lotte listened with rapt attention, throwing in the odd quip, laughing here and there. It felt like it¡¯d been ages, and maybe it had. No way to tell time there. A week, perhaps? My life had never been this full of madness.


    But before we wandered too far off track, I had to get down to brass tacks. Lightning spells and Path were on the agenda, but there was one matter I¡¯d neglected to bring up earlier.


    "Lotte, first things first¡ªwhat in the blithering fuck are these hues that¡¯ve been haunting my vision ever since I became a dragon?!"

 Chapter 65: The Wave

    "Alright, so the first time I laid eyes on them, I just figured they were some sort of mana. You know, the usual, anything that seemed plausible. But then I noticed they were completely unaffected by any of my mana manipulation or core stabilization skills, both of which directly deal with mana. Whatever these things were, they certainly weren¡¯t mana."


    Lotte watched me, that same amused glint in her eye. Oh brilliant, was she about to dish out another one of her cryptic little riddles? Still, I pressed on, eager to share my observations in the vain hope that I¡¯d impress her enough to skip the mystery game for once. Worth a shot, wasn¡¯t it?


    "It was something else. A kind of... energy that only seemed to exist in dungeons, and curiously, on the moon. Nowhere else, from what I could tell. When I looked at places without them, it felt wrong. The shadows outside, their absence was unsettling. Off."


    I cast a pleading glance at Lotte, but she stayed maddeningly silent. "Oh, for Thalador''s sake, out with it already. This can¡¯t possibly be some deep, dark, forbidden secret. I just want to know what I¡¯ve been staring at all this time!" I paused, raising an eyebrow. "Or is it actually some form of forbidden knowledge?"


    Her voice wove through my consciousness like a delicate strand of silk. "Tell me, Jade, what do you believe constitutes forbidden knowledge?"


    I frowned. "Well, that¡¯s out of left field, but fine. I¡¯d say, based on your past theatrics, it¡¯s the kind of knowledge I¡¯m not supposed to have. Something dangerous¡ªtoo dangerous for the likes of me. The sort of thing that would get those ¡®Keepers of History¡¯ or those divination zealots breathing down my neck. So yes, forbidden."


    A soft, knowing laugh reverberated in my mind. "A fair attempt," she murmured. "But allow me to clarify¡ªthere is no such thing as inherently forbidden knowledge."


    "What? Then what¡¯s with all the secrecy?"


    "You misinterpret," Lotte continued, her tail swaying with a languid, almost hypnotic grace. "The prohibition lies not in the knowledge itself, but in the manner of its acquisition. Picture knowledge as water. It flows¡ªnaturally, methodically¡ªsustaining, filling, adapting seamlessly to its environment. But when seized too hastily, unnaturally, the currents begin to churn."


    "Churn?" I repeated, squinting at her. "So you¡¯re saying it causes some kind of... disturbance?"


    "Far more than you might imagine." She said. "Sudden illuminations, abrupt insights¡ªthey fray the very fabric of existence. They draw unwanted attention, send ripples across the planes, unsettling the unprepared, making them vulnerable to those who walk the path of divination. True understanding comes through a deliberate pace¡ªthrough effort, discovery, trial and error. That is how the world intends it."


    ¡°So¡­ like studying from books? I mean, there are libraries full of knowledge just sitting there for the taking. Isn¡¯t that just spoon-feeding?¡±


    Lotte''s grin broadened, as if anticipating my thoughts. "Books, too, must be earned, Jade. The process remains. You seek, you decipher, you apply the wisdom you''ve painstakingly gathered. This aligns with the natural course of things. You''re accumulating knowledge, not merely seizing it. Whether it''s through exploring a dungeon or experimenting with magic, the question isn¡¯t whether the knowledge is concealed or forbidden. It¡¯s whether you¡¯re prepared to shoulder its weight. Acquire too much, too swiftly, and you won¡¯t just fracture the boundaries of reality¡ªyou risk shattering yourself."


    ¡°So, what you¡¯re saying is, if I don¡¯t want to implode, I should let my knowledge simmer?¡±


    "Precisely." Her gaze lingered on me, "There are no shortcuts. You must steep in it. Knowledge that is rightly earned finds its place¡ªit won¡¯t overwhelm you or the world you inhabit. But reach for what is beyond your grasp, and... well, you understand the peril."


    I scowled. ¡°You make it sound like I¡¯m some kind of ticking time bomb.¡±


    ¡°You said it, not me.¡±


    Hah! ¡°So, does that mean¡­ you¡¯re not going to answer my question? About what these hues are?¡±


    Lotte paused, letting the silence stretch, her immense eyes carrying that same amusement. "A compromise, perhaps," she finally said. "I could reveal their nature to you, even their name. But in doing so, I would unleash a torrent of questions within you. So¡ª"


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, you¡¯re gonna be cryptic and just ¡®nudge¡¯ me in the right direction, like you always do,¡± I cut her off, rolling my eyes. Honestly, at this point, a nudge would be worth it. I was dying to know what those hues meant, even if it was just a scrap of information.


    Her laugh echoed inside my skull, all too pleased. ¡°"Surely, you''ve perceived it by now."


    ¡°What?¡±


    "The way these hues behave. How they stand in contrast to mana?"


    I paused, my mind racing. ¡°They were just a nuisance at first when I opened my eyes. Couldn¡¯t see anything but that damn glow. But if you¡¯re asking what else¡­ they didn¡¯t linger around illusions. The dungeon spawned a monster using them, I think? And¡­ they seemed to brighten everything, sticking to spider webs, that sap, even the bioluminescent trees.¡±


    Lotte clicked her tongue. "I asked for the conceptual distinction."


    ¡°Conceptual?¡± I blinked, squinting at her. ¡°I¡ªhuh?¡±


    "The concept," she repeated, her tone implying I was a slow learner. "Doesn''t it strike you as peculiar, Jade? These hues possess the potential to engender life itself."Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    That made me stop cold. My thoughts tripped over each other. ¡°Wait, what? You¡¯re saying those hues¡ªthose little rainbow lights¡ªcan create life?¡±


    "Consider it carefully," Lotte purred. "Mana may power spells, animate objects, or bring constructs into being. But does it breathe life?"


    My brain had a mini-meltdown. Wait... IT SPAWNED THAT MONSTER! Those hues were part of the dungeon¡¯s creation process. I thought it was just the dungeon doing its thing, like everyone assumed¡ªbut the dungeon was using those hues! How did I not notice? It was right in front of me.


    Lotte watched my mental gears turn with a smug flick of her enormous tail. ¡°You¡¯re almost there, little hatchling.¡±


    ¡°Wait, so the dungeon is using them to build things? To create monsters?¡± I ventured.


    ¡°And reshape the ecosystem, tweak conditions, push its inhabitants in certain directions,¡± Lotte said, nodding slowly. ¡°While mana is fuel for magic, the hues are something more fundamental. You could say they are part of the dungeon¡¯s design, rather than just a tool within it.¡±


    ¡°...Not a tool, but part of the creation process¡­¡± I murmured. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me they have a mind of their own?¡±


    Lotte¡¯s silence was somehow the loudest answer she could give. Gah! But at least I¡¯d figured it out. She didn¡¯t even give me new information¡ªjust led me to what was right in front of me. Was I that thick? I shook my head. Of course, she couldn¡¯t make it easy for me.


    ¡°Still feels weird to call them hues. You sure I can¡¯t know their real name?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m quite sure.¡± She gave me that dragon grin again. ¡°Why not christen them yourself?"


    I sighed. ¡°Hmm¡­ a name for hues that literally create life. Oh, wait. There was a term for life energy in that old Thalador text¡­ Prana. Feels fitting, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Lotte¡¯s laugh echoed in my head. ¡°A fine name. I¡¯ll allow it.¡±


    I raised my head smugly. She could keep the name to herself. At least now I knew what these hues were. Prana. Part of me still wanted to ask why they were present on the moon too. And after a brief internal debate, I dropped that question in front of Lotte. ¡°Is the moon some sort of dungeon too?¡±


    "The Dungeon is far from the sole entity capable of wielding Prana," Lotte remarked. "So, steel yourself for the unexpected, for it may surface where you least anticipate."


    I choked on my immediate ¡°like what?¡± as the question died in my throat. Hmm. I¡¯d know if I ever came across anything that used Prana, I guess. For now, I had enough to chew on. The discovery made it all the more fascinating. Also¡­


    ¡°Lotte, I¡¯ve seen the Prana increasing in intensity, little by little. Considering it¡¯s a natural phenomenon tied to the dungeon, should I be¡­ concerned?¡±


    ¡°Hmm, what¡¯s the current intensity?¡± she asked, her eyes glazing over, no doubt peeking into those mystical threads she always saw.


    I described it¡ªjust a little more than usual, enough to be noticeable but not alarming yet.


    She refocused on me, her tone neutral but unmistakably sharp. ¡°About half a month.¡±


    Huh. ¡°Half a month until what?¡±


    ¡°Until a Wave occurs.¡±


    That stopped my thoughts in their tracks. A WAVE?! A goddamn Wave?!


    Even if I hadn¡¯t experienced one firsthand, I¡¯d heard the stories. Every creature, every soul living near a dungeon knew the terror that word carried. It wasn¡¯t just an event¡ªit was a catastrophe. A Wave was when monsters¡ªthousands upon thousands of them¡ªerupted from the dungeon¡¯s depths like a volcanic eruption of claws, teeth, and death. Waves didn¡¯t just affect the dungeon. They consumed everything in their path, overwhelming defenses, ripping apart settlements, leveling towns.


    They were raw, unstoppable chaos. No barriers strong enough. No walls high enough. No escape once it began. The monsters weren¡¯t just the usual dungeon spawn, either. They came in grotesque numbers, higher-level creatures emerging that no one had seen before, often led by bosses that should¡¯ve remained far deeper underground. Everything caught in the path of a Wave was flattened, overrun, or forced to flee to safer, more fortified areas.


    For adventurers, Waves were a deadly opportunity¡ªa rare moment to fight powerful monsters and possibly gain enormous rewards. But for most, it was simply a harbinger of death.


    And half a month? I had a month to prepare for that?


    My mouth had gone dry. ¡°So you¡¯re telling me,¡± I managed to say, my voice wavering a little, ¡°that this dungeon¡¯s been gradually gathering energy¡­ for a Wave?¡±


    "Exactly. The escalating intensity of Prana is merely the precursor, a forewarning before the inevitable eruption," Lotte said.


    I swallowed. Hard. ¡°What about me? What the hell am I supposed to do during a Wave?¡±


    "Perhaps, deep down, you¡¯ve already discerned the answer to that," she mused.


    I forced my thoughts to a halt. After all, I was a creature of the dungeon, wasn¡¯t I? And with my knowledge of the System and how it governed monsters, I had a hunch no one else did.


    ¡°The System¡­ it¡¯s going to send out a mass call, isn¡¯t it? A mission for every damned monster to raze the nearby civilizations, with rewards on offer. Don''t bother answering, of course it will.¡± I drew a breath, struggling to keep my voice steady. ¡°The real question is, what about me? I don¡¯t want any part in this madness. But what happens if I refuse? There¡¯ll be a sea of monsters sweeping over everything. I¡¯ve got to get out, flee while I still can. But how¡ª"


    "Steady yourself, Jade," Lotte''s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "Your primary concern should not be escape, but rather what advantage you can wrest from this situation."


    ¡°Huh? What are you getting at?¡± I asked, narrowing my eyes.


    "Tell me, when was the last occurrence of a Wave?"


    What was she on about now? I wracked my brain. There was only one dungeon even remotely close to Randall¡ªthough "close" was a stretch; it lay far to the south. ¡°I think it was over a decade ago,¡± I replied slowly. ¡°I was still a kid then¡ªmaybe six. But it was never a threat to us because we were so far away. For the Wave to reach Randall, it would¡¯ve had to tear through a series of fortified cities along the way. Which¡­ it didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°And if a Wave had been approaching, the word would have spread well in advance, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± Lotte pressed.


    ¡°Yeah, I guess so¡­ I mean, I don¡¯t remember all the details, but I¡¯m sure people with the right pathways or magic could¡¯ve detected something like that.¡±


    Lotte¡¯s eyes gleamed as if amused by my confusion. "So, Jade, what does that imply?"


    I groaned, rubbing my temples. ¡°I don¡¯t know! Just tell me, Lotte. My brain is scrambled from all this information you¡¯re throwing at me!¡±


    She chuckled, "It means, my little hatchling, that this presents an opportunity. The Elves in these lands are acutely attuned to the impending arrival of a Wave. Once they catch wind of it, they¡¯ll retreat to their heavily fortified cities, preparing for the event. This, in turn, will leave the Dungeon more desolate than it''s been in ages. Fewer of those shrewd Elves lurking in the shadows, waiting to ambush you like they did last time."


    Oh¡­


    OHHHH!!


    That actually made sense. With the Elves busy safeguarding their precious territories, the dungeon would be mine for the taking. Fewer eyes watching, less interference. I could hunt freely, gather what I needed, and level up fast. I¡¯d consume enough morphogen to upgrade my organs and push further down my evolution. It was a lot of work, sure, but I was relentless. Efficient. A born predator.


    And now that my Mana Manipulation was on the verge of advancement, I could finally tap into spellcasting.


    I grinned, feeling a surge of excitement through initial fear. MAGIC! ¡°Alright, then. I¡¯ve decided what to do next. Help me choose a Path of the Lightning affinity,¡± I said, practically jumping with anticipation. ¡°And teach me my first-ever Lightning spell!¡±

 Chapter 66: Runes and Matrices

    I understood the basics of magic. Even if they hadn¡¯t allowed me into the classes that taught Path fundamentals¡ªbecause, after all, without a mana core, I was considered unfit, barred from participation in any activity or class involving Paths. Maybe they figured I¡¯d just end up a liability or a risk, someone unworthy of such arts. Or maybe, deep down, they were just trying to put me in my place.


    It was alienation, plain and simple. But my perseverance burned brighter than any of their restrictions, and my hunger for knowledge only grew sharper. I had to know. I wanted to see how they cast spells, how they bent the elements to their will.


    And so I learned. Piece by piece, in small, forbidden fragments. Jord, that bastard, had helped me in the beginning. He¡¯d led me to books and scrolls that weren¡¯t officially banned but danced along the edges of what was legal. Not on any Path itself, of course¡ªthe Paths were jealously guarded secrets. No random librarian could loan a tome on them, not without risking serious repercussions. Paths and their workings were only authorized in regulated, licensed institutions.


    Only those with special permissions, like certified researchers and academy heads, could even keep records on them. Anyone caught with such knowledge outside these circles faced steep penalties. And Jord knew the risks as well as I did.


    But he had known all the little loopholes. He¡¯d shown me books on mana theory, on the mechanisms of spellcasting that didn¡¯t delve too deep into the classified parts. Books that slipped around the rules, offering glimpses into the vast structure of magic without ever showing the full picture. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough to piece together an understanding, one fragment at a time.


    And yet, even now, just thinking of his name left a sour taste in my mouth. Jord, the one who¡¯d sold me out. The one who¡¯d led me on this path, only to turn around and betray me for something as worthless as coin. All for a fucking book.


    Gah, I needed to scrub Jord¡¯s name right out of my brain.


    Anyway, magic¡ªhow spells were actually cast¡ªwas almost simple once you understood the basics. At its core, spellcasting was all about matrices: complex webs of runes arranged in carefully balanced formations to channel mana into a particular effect. Runes themselves might look like abstract symbols on a page, but they were far more than that. They represented natural principles, the very forces that underpinned reality. Arc, Pulse, Velocity, Resonance. These weren¡¯t just terms¡ªthey were powers you could call upon, warp, and amplify if you understood how to wield them.


    The beauty¡ªand the challenge¡ªlay in how these runes adapted to the caster¡¯s comprehension. They weren¡¯t rigid formulas; they shifted, almost as though they were alive, responding to a mage¡¯s interpretation. A novice might look at the Arc rune and see only a way to curve a projectile around a wall. But to someone who truly understood its potential, Arc could do far more. The difference depended on how deeply one saw into the rune¡¯s meaning and on weaving it into the matrix just right.


    Because runes didn¡¯t work alone. They linked up in matrices, forming the true essence of any spell. The matrix was the heart of spellcasting, an intricate structure that ordered runes into a logical chain, each affecting the next. Each link in that chain was forged by the caster¡¯s understanding. It wasn¡¯t about knowing where to put each rune; it was about understanding the connections between them, how mana flowed from one symbol to the next. The matrix had to reflect the world¡¯s logic¡ªor, more accurately, the mage¡¯s interpretation of that logic.


    Most people memorized matrices as rigid patterns, each symbol in its place. One mistake in the sequence, and the whole thing would collapse, either fizzling out or, in the worst cases, blowing up in your face. That¡¯s why the oblivion rune was drilled into every mage from day one. Its sole purpose was to halt magic¡¯s flow, to cut the spell short if you¡¯d set up something dangerously wrong.


    But for those with deeper knowledge, matrices weren¡¯t just static patterns to memorize; they were constructs to improve. They could create shortcuts, add tweaks, making their matrices more efficient or adaptable. Magic wasn¡¯t a mechanical recitation of symbols and sequences. It was the art of crafting a machine out of concepts, powered by mana and driven by the caster¡¯s reasoning.


    The real limits¡ªand the real power¡ªcame from understanding. Anyone could memorize a spell matrix for lightning, but without grasping what lightning truly was and how it interacted with said runes, they¡¯d be stuck with a static spell, no room to adapt or innovate. That¡¯s why each new insight into spellcasting was guarded so fiercely, and why the apprentice system was practically sacred. Apprentices signed binding contracts, sworn to never share their master¡¯s insights with another soul.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    The Academy wouldn¡¯t admit it, of course, but even their teachings were¡­ restricted. The Path of Winter Salamander, for instance, was supposed to be about elemental mastery over illusions and light, but the way they taught it felt more like training a parrot. They spoon-fed them rigid matrices, teaching only a fixed interpretation of the runes. There was value in the instruction, no doubt, and I¡¯d heard enough from eavesdropping to realize they were drilling students with some structured understanding of how to unlock runes. But it was still frustratingly shallow¡ªnothing like the potential I¡¯d glimpsed through the cracks.


    For someone like me, without access to mana back then, the Academy¡¯s gates were closed. But with my Mana Manipulation skill now creeping up on level 5, I could feel the first spark of real spellcasting potential within reach. If I waited until my first advancement, I might make it easier on myself, build that crucial foundation before leaping in.


    And then came the thought I¡¯d been mulling over: should I bother asking Lotte for help with this, or just dive in, trial and error style? No harm in testing the waters, I supposed. So, I turned to her with my best ¡®I¡¯m-going-to-try-my-luck¡¯ look.


    To my astonishment, the reply wasn¡¯t the usual cryptic riddle but rather a direct question.


    "Are you truly inclined to traverse a path already well-charted by another¡¯s steps?"


    Huh? ¡°Well, I¡¯ve no intention of walking it in the usual fashion. I¡¯ll craft my own understanding¡ªfor each spell, for every rune. I won¡¯t treat matrices as rigid constructs but as frameworks to bend and innovate upon.¡±


    Lotte let out a chuckle. ¡°Paths¡­ yes, I am acquainted with a number. Now that you''ve managed a semblance of spellcraft, perhaps you¡¯re ready to glimpse some of what lies therein.¡±


    Wait. Hold on. ¡°Are you saying you actually intend to teach me?!?¡±


    Lotte¡¯s expression turned almost too amused, her eyes narrowing with a glint that suggested anything but charity. ¡°Do I appear the sort to dispense knowledge freely, Jade?¡±


    I opened my mouth, shut it, then opened it again, trying to find words that didn¡¯t sound like outright pleading. ¡°I mean¡­ not precisely, no. But for you, imparting knowledge isn¡¯t exactly an act of charity, is it? More like¡­ an, umm, extended form of entertainment!¡±


    ¡°Oh, how audacious of you to presume,¡± she replied, entirely unruffled. ¡°And yet, you¡¯re not mistaken¡ªit would indeed be¡­ illuminating, observing you struggle to comprehend, compelled to shape your own vision rather than follow some preordained script.¡±


    I nearly leapt for joy. ¡°So, you are teaching me?¡±


    The enormous dragon gave a languid shrug. ¡°A prod here, a nudge there. Perhaps the rare suggestion¡ªprovided, of course, you manage to hold my interest.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I replied, meeting her gaze with as much determination as I could muster. ¡°I know you won¡¯t be spoon-feeding me. I¡¯m used to that. Just show me where to start, and I¡¯ll find the rest on my own!¡±


    ¡°Well then,¡± she said, ¡°the true name of this Path I shall keep veiled, for reasons you will understand in time. You may know it as the Path of the Lightning Serpent.¡±


    ¡°Hah¡­ It has been ages since I last instructed anyone,¡± Lotte grinned, her teeth a vision of white, though there was something utterly menacing about the sight as she rose. ¡°Ready yourself, little fledgling; this Path is anything but a gentle one.¡±


    ***


    I awoke to the sight of a badger. Well, technically, the back of a badger. It was propped against the wall, staring at the entrance of the nook like a diligent little guardian. Except¡­ wait¡ªwhy was its head tilting and swaying like that? Stretching my serpentine neck to get a closer look, I realized¡ªah. It was asleep. In that position. Lazy badger.


    But now, I was awake! Finally, time to practice some real magic. Lotte, it seemed, was going to be an insufferable teacher. She¡¯d only given me three runes¡ªjust three! No hints on their placements in the matrix, no guidance on their interactions, not even a hint of what spell I was supposed to be casting. Her only words: ¡°Use your own comprehension.¡±


    Which, if I¡¯m honest, might actually have been fair. After all, the real heart of magic was understanding how these fundamental forces worked. And my own comprehension? Well, it felt¡­ different. There were echoes from my dreams, fragments of knowledge that terrified me in their precision. Chemistry, as my Doppelganger called it¡ªthe stuff they called alchemy here. And those runes Lotte had tossed my way? With a few tweaks, I might just be able to come up with something exciting.


    But first things first¡ªI had to push Mana Manipulation to level 5 and see what kind of advancement it offered. Better to know my options before applying my own understanding to the runes. So, I got to work, manipulating lightning mana and channeling it through my claws. I could feel how much better, more efficient, I¡¯d become, like comparing night and day to my clumsy attempts at level 1. Lightning mana, once a curious pup bouncing everywhere, now perked up attentively, following the pathways I¡¯d been training it to run down.


    About ten repetitions of this light show later, the system chimed in.


    [Mana Manipulation has reached level 5]


    I almost did a little victory dance right there, which seemed to catch the badger¡¯s attention; it blinked up at me with a curious glint in its eyes. I wondered if it had any mana. It looked stage 1, maybe stage 2 at best, but who knew? I gently scooped it up as it tensed, then deposited it back where I¡¯d been sleeping.


    ¡°Thanks for watching over me! And sorry for waking you up,¡± I said with a little chirp. Of course, it didn¡¯t understand a word, but maybe the gesture made sense because it curled back up and drifted right off.


    Now then. I gave myself a nod and pulled up my stat screen.


    Time to see what kind of upgrades awaited me.

 Chapter 67: The Science Of Runes

    It seemed like there was only one option available for Mana Manipulation¡¯s advancement: Advanced Mana Manipulation. Practical, precise, but¡­ not exactly mind-blowing. Then again, I didn¡¯t need it to be flashy as long as it got the job done.


    As I stood in the clearing, the difference was immediate the moment I tapped into it. I could practically visualize my core as I drew on it. Mana felt almost tangible now, something I could trace and hold with my mind. The energy perked up the moment I touched it, flowing eagerly from my crystalline core near my heart into my veins, automatically turning into lightning mana through my affinity.


    Of course, I could stop it, push out pure, affinity-less mana if I really wanted to, but I¡¯d only been training with lightning mana. It behaved wildly compared to neutral mana, which meant even my training process was different. Trying to teach myself the feel of pure mana could wait; right now, all that mattered was getting to know lightning mana like the back of my own claws.


    With renewed focus, I guided the lightning mana through my body, feeling the currents as they converged into my claws. The level of precision I had now was shocking¡ªpun absolutely intended. The threads of magic streaming out of my claws were so thin they could barely be seen, finer than anything I¡¯d witnessed even from Academy instructors.


    A satisfied grin spread across my face. This was it¡ªthe combined result of my Mana Conduit Vasculature upgrade and Advanced Mana Manipulation. I was finally ready to witness my first spell.


    Lotte had only given me three runes, and I studied each one with anticipation.


    Two of them were Lightning runes: Charge and Discharge.


    Charge was a zigzag line, like a stylized lightning bolt with soft, rounded edges. Based on what I could gather (plus a subtle hint from Lotte), it represented the buildup of energy.


    Discharge was a circle with an arrow breaking out from its center. The circle held the energy, while the arrow symbolized its release, directed and intentional.


    Finally, the third rune was Arc¡ªa simple crescent shape that seemed to represent control over the energy¡¯s direction.


    And then there was one rune Lotte hadn¡¯t even bothered to mention¡ªthe Oblivion rune. A simple circle bisected by a single line. Naturally, I wasn¡¯t foolish enough to try spellcasting experiments without it. Its purpose was to halt mana flow and safely dissipate energy if the matrix became unstable¡ªan essential safeguard given all the madness I was about to attempt to get this matrix operational.


    I had at least some familiarity with a few runes, thanks to Jord''s... umm, ¡°questionably legal¡± tomes. Arc and Oblivion I¡¯d seen before, but Charge and Discharge were mysteries. Still, Lotte had given me enough to piece things together. Now I needed to determine precisely where to place each rune.


    There were two main types of spell matrices I knew of: circular ones for continuous spells and linear ones for single-use. Given that I was about to launch a projectile (that might or might not even work), I opted for a linear matrix. Plus, circular matrices required additional runes, and I doubted Lotte had fully explained those to me.


    And so began the assembly. I used mana to shape the base of the matrix, arranging the runes in a logical sequence, aiming for stability. Just three runes to work with, after all. The general rule dictated that the Oblivion rune go first¡ªit¡¯s universal, after all¡ªleaving me to sort the others. My first attempt? [Charge] [Arc] [Discharge]. The whole thing destabilised and fizzled instantly.


    But I hit it right on my second try: [Charge] [Discharge] [Arc]. The matrix immediately stabilised, and I nearly skipped a heartbeat at the sight. I stared at the bright blue line of runes¡ªutterly mesmerising.


    The work wasn¡¯t done yet, though. The next task was to fine-tune the mana input for each rune, an art form of trial and error. I started off by feeding each rune a single point of mana.


    [1 1 1]


    And¡­ it destabilised on the spot, fizzling out as the Oblivion rune halted the flow, preventing any energetic mishaps. Expected, of course. So I continued, adjusting the mana ratios until, at last, after five or six tries, I found the ideal balance:


    [2 2 1].


    Two points of mana into each charge and discharge, with one in Arc. This was it. I gazed at the finished matrix¡ªI''d finally done it. I¡¯d crafted my very first spell. The mana crackled, wild and untamed, with electric fervour. And I could hold it before releasing, as the mana threads I¡¯d woven were so fine they wouldn¡¯t easily destabilize.


    I glanced around and spotted a nearby tree, taking careful aim. It felt like holding the trigger of a loaded gun, just waiting to be pulled. I closed my eyes and pictured that trigger. It was instinctual; before I knew it, the spell¡¯s name was on my lips.


    LIGHTNING BOLT!


    I roared as the runes merged, and a blinding arc of lightning shot out before me. It wasn¡¯t massive, but it struck the tree with a sharp clap, fizzling out and leaving a charred mark on the trunk.


    For a moment, I simply stared at it. Then, unable to contain myself, I hopped up and laughed like an absolute madman. Ahahaha! At long last, I¡¯d cast my very first spell! How long I¡¯d waited, how I¡¯d craved this moment! It had finally arrived.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    I forced myself to settle down when two breath signatures shuffled nervously on the edge of my air sense, perhaps unsettled by my wild celebrations. But sod it! I did a little dance as I tiptoed over to inspect the tree. It wasn¡¯t as mana-efficient as my Flamethrower¡ªonly a single mana point for that with far more impressive results¡ªbut this spell had its advantages.


    I ran my claw over the scorched mark the bolt left: a shallow but concentrated gouge. First advantage over Flamethrower? Range. And surely that would increase as my mastery grew. Plus, it was infinitely more flexible. With countless rune and mana combinations, I could conjure a range of effects. As my understanding of these runes deepened, I could even use my dream-inspired insights to customize them into entirely unique spells. Knowing Lotte, she¡¯d chosen these runes for a reason.


    All I had to do was explore their intricacies further.


    I could finally understand why a monster¡¯s magic was so limited¡ªthey¡¯re bound to use specific organs for different mana effects. But me? I had not only organs but mana veins. The best of both worlds. Organs offered efficient, convenient casting, but with this knowledge, I could stretch spellcasting to its utmost.


    And truth be told, I was more of a¡­ ¡®second sort of dragon.¡¯ Flamethrower might be efficient, but it¡¯s as rigid as it is predictable. Admittedly, I¡¯d grown tired of it¡ªtoo repetitive, and far too easy for sharp foes, particularly those wily elves, to anticipate. Plus, it left much to be desired in both range and flexibility.


    But those days were behind me now.


    I looked down at my claws, still tingling from the lightning spell. My heart pounded. Then, with a grin, I glanced at the tree again. Sorry, tree. Looks like you¡¯re in for a bit more abuse¡ªI¡¯m just getting started!


    ***


    I kept at it, casting spell after spell, each shot sharper, more precise than the last. I''d never felt anything quite like this¡ªan exhilarating rush of raw energy, like I was breathing for the first time, not with lungs but with mana. Every cast looped seamlessly into the next, conjuring the runes, charging the spell, firing it, and repeating the cycle, barely pausing. When my reserves started flagging, I relied on Core Stabilization to refuel.


    Each cast wasn¡¯t just a practice anymore. A study in motion. A dissection of each spell component in real-time. I could feel my understanding deepening with each repetition, like I was sensing the weave of each rune, the threads of mana linking into an intricate pattern. Soon, I wasn¡¯t just casting; I was timing how fast I could complete each cycle. Not just a sequence of actions, but a rhythm.


    A syncopated dance.


    Of mana and of mind.


    I don¡¯t know how long I kept going. Hours, maybe. My claws throbbed with each strike lightning bolt, a persistent headache was building, but the results were worth it. Core Stabilization had levelled up to three. Lightning Affinity, now at level two. Advanced Mana Manipulation, also level two.


    I¡¯d started testing how much I could push the spell¡¯s power, too. By keeping the mana ratio steady but increasing the overall flow, the Lightning Bolt became noticeably stronger, punching out in wider arcs, striking trees with a deafening crackle. Three had fallen under my constant abuse, their trunks smoking from the concentrated strikes. I felt a bit sorry for them, but research demanded sacrifice.


    What I didn¡¯t expect was the insight into the runes themselves. I¡¯d read that runes were supposed to adapt to the mage¡¯s understanding, that they would subtly reshape to reflect deeper insights. As I refined each cast, I could almost sense the nuances of my understanding shifting, trying to impress themselves onto the rune structure. Runes, after all, are as much a representation of one''s mind as they are of magic itself.


    But no matter what I tried, the runes remained unchanged. Despite the whisper of knowledge from those dream-memories, despite visualizing every adjustment, the runes looked exactly the same. It didn¡¯t make sense. Every time I¡¯d used knowledge from the dreams before, it had proven accurate, like a guide beyond even Lotte¡¯s teaching. But here? Nothing. It was maddening.


    Charge and Discharge¡­ I started peeking into dreams once again. If I¡¯d missed something essential about these foundational concepts. Charge, with its zigzag shape, represented not just energy buildup but the buildup of a potential difference. Not a burst of power as its original meaning intended; it was a carefully prepared imbalance, a set of electric layers packed so tightly they had no choice but to seek equilibrium at the first chance.


    Discharge, on the other hand, was all about releasing that imbalance, letting that stored power explode out in a directional flow. The arrow at the center signified not just release but targeted release, like a gun barrel focusing a bullet. There was¡­ something to it, real mechanics behind these matrices.


    The theory was sound, but the runes themselves refused to shift or respond. I was hitting a wall.


    Maybe it was exactly what Lotte had wanted. She¡¯d given me these runes as a foundation, to test me, make me work out their secrets and apply them. But I was missing something, some key insight that would bridge understanding and action.


    The spell remained stubbornly the same, the runes static. I clenched my claws, frustrated. This wall wasn¡¯t going anywhere. Not yet.


    But I was bound to break through it. I was a stubborn dragon, after all. A dragon absolutely obsessed with magic. But even stubborn dragons had their limits, as my throbbing skull kept reminding me. I flopped onto the ground, groaning and rolling about, cursing my head for punishing my eagerness. Arghhh! Maybe I¡¯d gone a bit further than expected. I was so absorbed in the rhythm of casting and re-casting, weaving and releasing mana, that I¡¯d simply refused to stop. But I had to remember¡ªmy brain wasn¡¯t made for relentless abuse. I could heal my body, sure, but there didn¡¯t seem to be any healing for the mind just yet.


    Mages usually had potions for mental exhaustion, and I knew the recipes for a few¡­ not that they did me any good out here with no ingredients. No choice but to grin, bear it, and take a break.


    That¡¯s when I noticed my badger friend, who was watching my spellcasting with wide-eyed admiration, had laid out two new offerings: another rat and a bird monster with some truly nasty claws. How it had managed to snag that was beyond me! I couldn''t help a grin. I loved this little guy¡ªerr, no, girl! Apparently. Didn¡¯t ask me how I knew, just chalk it up to this uncanny knack I had for reading monster body language. So far, my guesses had been accurate. If they turned out wrong one day? Future Jade¡¯s problem.


    Once again, I sliced each offering and shared it with my valiant hunter. She eagerly dug in, clearly pleased with my approval.


    [Morphogen source assimilated.]


    Hmm, no new gains. Expected. That reminded me I needed to advance my Mana Conduit Vasculature¡ªI was only four Morphogen short. With those sneaky elves finally leaving the dungeon alone, it looked like I could hunt freely again.


    After resting off the headache, I stretched out, told my badger friend to stay put, and set out, Air Sense on high alert for any nearby prey.


    But instead of dinner, my sense caught something else entirely¡ªthree familiar breath signatures coming into range.


    Elves?! AGAIN?!

 Chapter 68: Stalking Dragon

    I wasn''t too far from my nook, that reluctant little corner of the forest I''d begrudgingly started to call "home." Close enough to the line of havoc the Behemoth¡¯s rampage had carved through the forest, I''d been quietly combing the air for a creature to bring down for dinner. And that¡¯s when I felt it¡ªthat faint, offbeat cadence of breath drifting into my senses like an unwelcome memory. Elves. That frustratingly irregular, soft rhythm was unmistakable, hitting me with the subtlety of a thunderclap. Hard to forget how elves breathed. Not after last time.


    Swallowing the urge to bolt, I scanned for any nearby nasties. All clear. Slipping into stealth, I crept up into the boughs of a sturdy tree, tucked myself into the shadows, and settled in to watch.


    It didn¡¯t take long. Three of them glided into view with their irritating, calculated elegance. They stopped by a clearing where bioluminescent vines cast a greenish-blue glow over the forest floor, lighting up the loamy ground and sending shadows slanting across the leaves. One elf, a slender one with hunched shoulders, knelt, pressing her fingers into the soil. She murmured to the others, eyes darting up as they stood guard.


    Humans came in all shapes, but elves¡ªthey were unsettlingly uniform. Each one wiry and gaunt, ears long and sharp as their faces. Their leather armour was streaked with mud and smeared green to blend in, and one of them, the shortest, held a short staff that pulsed with an eerie, cold light, marked with symbols that were again¡­ not-Vel¡¯ Tan script. Looked like it was enchanted with a spell, probably ice-based. Not that I had any plans to test it.


    Their eyes swept the scene, scouring the roots, nooks, and lower branches, as though hunting for something small and very much hidden.


    Just as the System pinged in with another of its murderous little quests, dangling skill points for kills, I glanced at it and dismissed the prompt. Not quite ready for that yet. But if chance showed up on my doorstep? I might just entertain it. Could always use a few more skill points.


    For now, I stayed put, finely attuned to their hushed voices. The forest¡¯s quiet only sharpened their murmurs.


    One of them, clearly frustrated, clicked his tongue. The lone guy the the group muttered, irritation in his voice, ¡°C¡¯est peine perdue, Soril. We¡¯ve searched everywhere, even an extra mile. There¡¯s not a trace.¡±


    Soril, kneeling on the ground, let out a short, dry laugh. ¡°If patience isn¡¯t your strength, maybe you should head back to camp. The weaker hunters won¡¯t mind your company.¡±


    The third member, the tallest one, a female elf with a thin scar running from her temple to her chin, gave the grumbler a nudge. ¡°I¡¯m with Soril. You were the one who insisted on taking this mission, swearing it would be easy to track the creature.¡± She smirked. ¡°Starting to doubt yourself, Carel?¡±


    He sighed, rolling his eyes. ¡°It should have been easy! A creature that kind would leave traces everywhere. The mana trails should still be visible.¡±


    Soril rose to her feet, dusting off her hands. ¡°Mana trails fade if they¡¯re too old. We need something fresh. So, Carel, if you¡¯re so sure, tell me¡ªwhere do you think it went?¡±


    Carel gestured with a nod toward a dense tangle of roots nearby. ¡°It¡¯s likely hiding in those burrows. But if that¡¯s the case, we¡¯ll be at it all night to get it out.¡±


    The female elf scoffed. ¡°And whose fault is that?¡± She shook her head, clearly irritated. ¡°Maybe if you¡¯d tracked it properly...¡±


    Carel¡¯s grip tightened on his staff. ¡°I¡¯d love to see you do better, Lira.¡±


    Lira ignored his jab, turning to Soril instead. ¡°So? Anything?¡±


    Soril studied the ground, her eyes narrowing. ¡°Faint traces. It¡¯s either very good at hiding, or smarter than we gave it credit for.¡±


    ¡°Smart creatures seem to be the trend these days,¡± Lira muttered. ¡°Solfis¡¯s team nearly got wiped yesterday. Mira barely escaped a tricky one.¡±


    Wouldn¡¯t it be rich if Mira were the very elf I skewered yesterday? I watched them edge out of my range, and after some thought, climbed down. I needed to know what in the blazes they were still doing here if they knew what was coming.


    The hues in the air were intensifying, and I could hardly believe anyone in Lithrindel would be fool enough to operate a dungeon without a divinator to sound the alarm on such disasters. Or were these elves truly oblivious to the impending catastrophe about to hit their precious land?


    As they exchanged jibes, I drifted closer, staying to the shadows, testing each step. Bit by bit, I edged near enough to tail them, gleaning their chatter without giving myself away.


    Soril crouched down, inspecting a spot just a few feet away. ¡°According to the mission details, this creature wouldn¡¯t risk showing itself out in the open. It knows how to hide.¡± She pointed to faint scratches in the dirt, nearly covered by fallen leaves. ¡°These claw marks look fresh. If we¡¯re lucky, we can follow them east, past the clearing.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Carel glanced at the marks with a skeptical look, then gave a brief nod. ¡°Alright, but if we don¡¯t find it soon, I¡¯m turning back.¡±


    Lira¡¯s lips curled into a dry smile. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want your pride to suffer, now, would we?¡±


    ¡°Not just pride, mon ami. There¡¯s also coin on the line. Have you even seen how much they¡¯re offering for this?¡± Carel scoffed, clearly unfazed by Lira¡¯s jab. ¡°And as much as I want that payout, you¡¯ve all heard the news. It¡¯s about to get tricky in these woods.¡±


    Umm, were they talking about the wave?


    ¡°Well, the way I heard it, if those people succeed, we won¡¯t have to worry about the wave at all,¡± Soril said, though her tone betrayed doubt.


    ¡°They¡¯re shady. I don¡¯t trust them,¡± Lira muttered under his breath.


    ¡°Then why are you even working for them?¡± Carel raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°For the same reason you are. For the money, genius,¡± Lira shot back.


    With that, the trio headed eastward, still grumbling as they slipped into the thicket, looking far more begrudging than bold. Their complaints, though, had been most informative. So, it was indeed the Wave they were on about¡ªoh, and it seemed there was some organization involved, gathering rare creatures in exchange for hefty rewards. If these elves were chancing their necks despite the looming threat, their backer must have some serious cash. And, by the looks of it, an agenda.


    Hmm¡­


    A chill ran down my spine. This was beginning to feel unpleasantly familiar. I¡¯d already squared off against one of these shadowy groups, and most of their lot were now neatly digested in Barn¡¯s belly. Problem was, I couldn¡¯t rely on Barn this time around.


    Steady on, I thought. Could be entirely unrelated, just some wealthy newcomers with a penchant for rare finds. And that nagging little voice in the back of my head, wondering if their prize was intended for some dark sacrifice? I shoved that thought right out. No need to go crying cult just yet.


    Meanwhile, the oblivious elves pressed on, utterly unaware they were being followed by a dragon.


    It wasn¡¯t long before things got interesting. The elves moved cautiously through the dense underbrush, senses on high alert. Soril must have spotted something, judging by the way she signalled them to hush. They advanced slowly, Soril leading, her hand tracing glowing runes in the air. I could only make out the Arc and Oblivion symbols among them. Three others formed a circular pattern¡ªclearly, a continuous matrix of some sort.


    Then, just when I almost missed it, something darted from the shadows¡ªa quick, sleek figure covered in dark scales. A stag-like creature with elongated limbs tipped with clawed hooves, a sinuous tail ending in a tuft of fur, and piercing red eyes with a gemstone nestled between them. It moved with alarming speed.


    Soril muttered, flicking her wrist with a flourish.


    ¡°ICE LANCE!¡±


    Five shimmering ice lances materialized and launched, cutting through the air not toward the creature but surrounding it, blocking its escape paths. Each time it tried to dodge, a lance descended, herding it into an ever-tightening circle. Clever. Soril had it all mapped out, driving the creature right toward Lira and Carel, who sprang into position, setting up their own spells.


    Lira¡¯s feet glowed as a dark, twisting rune coiled beneath her, casting shadowy fog underneath her boots. Carel stretched his hands wide, conjuring a gleaming, intricate net between his fingers, glowing with faint, blue mana.


    It was all happening so quickly I barely had a moment to catch my breath, let alone analyse the scene in detail.


    The creature was no pushover, that much was clear. Slipping right through the gaps in the ice lances, it leapt onto a nearby tree with a predator¡¯s grace, scrabbling up the trunk with its clawed hooves as if it were born to do so. Soril gritted her teeth, muttering a new incantation. A spectral tether wisped from his fingertips, and Lira murmured her own spell, layering it with a shimmering sheen.


    The plan was nearly working¡ªnearly. The creature gave a sharp jolt as the tether snagged its tail, and a fine mist spread around it, hampering its frantic struggles. Clearly something to keep the beast¡¯s darting about in check. Ever opportunistic, Carel muttered something sharp under his breath¡ªmissed the exact words, but his netting flared bright in his hands, shooting forward and unfurling mid-air like it had a mind of its own, seeking to entrap the creature entirely.


    It all unfolded in barely a minute, and impressive as it was to watch three mages so perfectly in sync, I had my own little ace up my sleeve. If they could form a team, well, what¡¯s to stop a few monsters from doing the same? I had a clear shot, no obstructions. Flamethrower was a bit far out, but just right for my brand-new spell. Last time, I¡¯d only had flamethrower; lightning, however, was supposed to pack a bit more piercing power.


    [Charge.]


    A twisted grin crossed my face as I funneled six points of mana into the spell, feeling it crackle to life at my claws, vibrating with fierce intensity. My claws began to ache, but I was only just getting started.


    [Discharge.]


    I winced as I fed another six mana into the spell. My claws throbbed, but the rune seared brighter, crackling with raw energy.


    [Arc.]


    Three more mana flowed into the final rune. The matrix had taken everything I could put into it, and my claws trembled, searing with power. I locked eyes on Carel, claws aching as I muttered the trigger with gritted teeth.


    ¡°LIGHTNING BOLT!¡±


    A searing bolt of lightning exploded forward, roaring through the air as it shattered through anything in its path. Carel barely had time to turn, eyes widening in horror. A barrier shimmered before him, but it was nothing to my spell¡¯s fury. Lightning tore through it, slamming into him between the shoulder blades.


    Carel¡¯s scream ripped through the air as he was thrown forward with brutal force, his net disintegrating instantly. Lira and Soril spun, shock flashing in their eyes before their training kicked in. Lira bolted toward Carel, who lay gasping and writhing, while Soril¡¯s gaze darkened, darting around to locate the source.


    The creature seized its chance. With a shrill cry, it tore free from Soril¡¯s spell, diving into the dense undergrowth.


    ¡°WHO THE HELL IS THERE?!¡± Soril thundered, her voice carrying through the trees, but I, being the sly dragon I was, had already slithered away, grinning like some half-mad fiend. Every step rattled my brain. Every pulse throbbed in my claws from the strain. But oh, it was satisfying to snatch victory from those elves¡¯ greedy fingers.


    The stag darted in my direction as well, its crystal-tipped head swiveling toward my moving blur. Even with my stealth on, the gleaming stone in its forehead caught my presence, and¡ªoddly enough¡ªit lowered its head in my direction before slipping into the underbrush. Was it¡­ thanking me?


    Monsters. Heh. Clearly, I still had a thing or two to learn about them.

 Chapter 69: What in the blazes was going on here?

    Something was decidedly amiss. I decided to dash back to my hideout, only to feel the prickling sensation of yet more elven breath signatures drifting into my detection radius. What in the blazes was going on here? I dodged most of them, slipping past their patrols, snagging snippets of conversation whenever I could. There were a few close calls too¡ªone keen-eyed elf even sensed something wasn¡¯t right and set the entire bush I¡¯d been crouching in ablaze. That got my heart thundering, a sharp reminder that I wasn¡¯t quite the stealthy spectre I¡¯d like to think. At least Shadow Blur had levelled up to three, so... maybe worth it?


    Piecing together the bits I overheard, it became clear they weren¡¯t hunting for just one beast. No, they were after all sorts of rare, exotic creatures, apparently for the same organization. And the more I eavesdropped, the more questions flooded in. After that fiasco with the Barn and Queen, I¡¯d have thought they¡¯d put a strict lockdown on hunting licenses here, keeping everything above board till the investigations were over. Yet here they were, equipped like proper licensed hunters. The whole setup reeked of ulterior motives.


    Not that it changed my mission. I was out here for one purpose: hunt, gather morphogens, and secure the four I needed to advance my Mana Conduit Vasculature. The elves¡ªthough suddenly everywhere¡ªweren''t my chief concern, and as long as I kept my distance and kept quiet, I could steer clear. My Air Sense covered a good twenty metres, so unless they miraculously figured out how my detection worked and fancied holding their breath, I doubted they¡¯d catch me unawares.


    This was the first time I truly appreciated what all those points into my intelligence stat were doing. Air Sense was a constant, almost subliminal feed; my mind split into layers, processing air currents, cataloguing creatures, tracking individual breaths. If I hadn¡¯t bolstered my intelligence, my brain would¡¯ve been a scrambled mess of static and noise. As I stalked onward, smirking at the notification that Breath of Shadows had reached level two, I pressed on in search of a good, hearty meal.


    And that pesky system quest for slaughtering elves? Since there was no penalty, I accepted every last one. It was more than tempting, with each success promising a shiny skill point. But let¡¯s face it¡ªthere was no chance of me diving headfirst into a group fight with these elves just yet. I¡¯d seen their teamwork, their arsenal of weapons, staffs, and enchanted trinkets. One misstep, and I¡¯d be the next unfortunate soul roasted among the shrubbery.


    Ahh¡­ how thoroughly annoying.


    Eventually, after some relentless scouring, I found a target¡ªanother one of those wolves. What was with these creatures always being underfoot? I grumbled, wishing I could try something more exotic, but wolves were tasty enough, so no real complaints.


    This time, I kept things straightforward. Lightning magic was out of the question; I didn¡¯t feel like pushing my limits again. There was only so much I could channel through a single matrix, and after that last spell, my mana flow had become sluggish and painfully resistant, especially through my claws. Even trying to summon it now felt like prodding a bruise. It was a dead giveaway that I¡¯d done some temporary damage to my mana veins. No more casting until the damage mended itself, clearly.


    After my earlier experimentation, I¡¯d found the ¡°safe¡± amount to feed my runes¡ª4 mana to each lightning rune and 2 to the Arc rune¡ªdoubling the base power of my Lightning Bolt. Any more, and it started backfiring on me. That last shot, pushing both runes to 6, had been reckless but necessary. I couldn¡¯t risk guessing the nature of that elf¡¯s barrier enchantment; if it had been an element resistant to lightning, I might¡¯ve been in trouble. Still¡­ with the force I¡¯d unleashed, that barrier would¡¯ve crumbled either way.


    I winced as my claws brushed the ground, each step sending a reminder of the strain I¡¯d put on my mana veins. For humans, mana veins weren¡¯t exactly physical¡ªno healing potion would do anything if they ruptured. But as a dragon, my mana veins were part of my very flesh. I could mend them the same way I healed any other part of my body: by eating. And I was very much looking forward to putting that to the test.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    The wolf froze mid-step, its nose twitching, but it was already doomed. One swift pounce, and my Echo Claw slashed through its belly, a Flamethrower to its face sealing the deal before it could even let out a yelp. Dinner was served.


    [You have slain a Level 6 Lupinor Canivorax Adolescentus (III).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    As I gnawed through its innards, I felt that familiar pain ebb away, my mana veins slowly knitting themselves back together. My claws felt sharper, more¡­ alive. Theory confirmed. Alas, my stubborn headache remained. Seems I couldn¡¯t just snack on monsters to mend a bit of mental strain. Quite a shame, really. Imagine pushing one¡¯s wits to the very edge and then refreshing it all with a hearty meal? Greedy dragon.


    Still, my Macro-trophic Sac deserved its due appreciation. It was certainly pulling its weight. My mind, though, would remain its own beast to tame.


    By the time I finished my feast, I¡¯d acquired a pair of morphogens. Just two more, and I could finally funnel them into my Mana Conduit Vasculature. Oh, Thalador, the anticipation! It had to be something astounding¡ªI¡¯d stake a claw on it.


    Slipping through the undergrowth with all the elegance of a whisper, I was halfway to pouncing on my prey when something peculiar caught my eye. The hues¡ªyes, the usual drifty clouds of colour¡ªwere acting rather queerly.


    Typically, they hover like a lazy plume from a dimming firework, wild and whimsical. But now... they were moving. And not their usual everywhere-at-once shuffle, of course. No, this bright mist was drifting with a purpose, inching¡ªjust barely¡ªtowards a single direction.


    And as it happened, my wolf-shaped quarry was heading that way, too. Well, I thought, might as well tag along. The hues, after all, were part of the dungeon''s design, and I was feeling a distinct twinge of curiosity.


    It wasn¡¯t long before I detected something else. Breathing. Elf-kind breathing, of course. Normally, I¡¯d find one or two lurking, maybe a trio if I was unlucky, but this... As I edged closer, the count kept rising¡ªthree, five, seven, nine dozen breaths, packed together like some sort of layered tapestry. I froze, every scale of mine tingling with caution. A sight like this? I¡¯d be as good as dragon skewer if they caught wind of me.


    Still, I edged nearer, broadening my air-sense radar to take in the scene. Faint shapes materialized as I mapped the airflow around them. Hidden beneath a convenient shrub, I shut my eyes and focused on the air. Looked like a clearing lay ahead, little in the way of trees, and in the centre, a tall structure loomed¡ªtoo smooth to be natural.


    The hues intensified with every step I crept closer.


    This was unusual, and my instincts were practically doing a jig inside my head. Hues behaving oddly, a veritable elf convention... Decisions, decisions. Should I run like a sensible creature? Or was curiosity about to land me in deep trouble?


    Curiosity won out, naturally¡ªstoked by a little flicker of possibility. My mana veins were back to good working order, and if things went sideways, I had the Quick Dash down to a fine art. So, in silence, I crept forward, slipping past trees and shrubs, scales blending in like a fine chameleon coat. With any luck, they¡¯d never know I was there.


    As I crept closer, the trees began to thin out, and through a tangle of bioluminescent branches, the scene spread out before me.


    The sight was... well, something out of a fevered dream. A colossal, hollowed-out clearing stretched ahead. Entire thing bathed in a strange, ghostly glow. Definitely from pale-green flames that hovered in suspended orbs above scores of hooded elven figures.


    Elves, standing in rigid, disciplined circles, all facing a towering stone obelisk that rose in the centre. Surface was a labyrinthine maze of runes. Each one writhing with a sickly, phosphorescent light.


    Between each ring of elves, spell matrices sprawled across the ground, dizzying in their complexity and glowing in time with the runes. They circled the obelisk in layered, concentric patterns, spreading outward like some infernal clockwork.


    And the hues¡ªthey were gathering, swirling toward the obelisk, their brilliance feeding the runes until they pulsed with a rainbow light. Beneath the obelisk itself, in a hollowed base, lay an enormous crystal, iridescent and expanding with every wisp of colour that coalesced into it.


    Barely had I time to even consider the purpose of those runes, what they might mean, or why the fuck they were glowing in ways that defied reason. My gaze was fixed on the cloaks draped over those elves.


    The very same dark robes. The ones I¡¯d seen before.


    The same damned cult.


    And then¡ªDing!¡ªa system mission message blazed across my vision.

 Chapter 70: I Needed A Plan

    MISSION ALERT!


    MISSION: Save the Dungeon!


    OBJECTIVE: Those FILTHY THIEVES are DEFILING the dungeon, draining its power for their WRETCHED GAIN. Their twisted rituals are corrupting the very essence of this place. Find them. Kill them. WIPE THEM OUT.


    TASK: Stop the thieves from completing their vile rituals. Leave no one standing.


    REWARD: Permanent +6 to all stats, +3 Skill Points, +20 Morphogen per disrupted ritual. Extra rewards for each elf killed. Special prize for eradicating all rituals.


    PROGRESS: 0/4


    PENALTY: None.


    ACCEPT: Y/N?


    The mission flashed, dripping with a thirst for vengeance. The familiar, goading murmur¡ªusually playful, steering me toward the thrill of carnage¡ªhad vanished, leaving something raw and bristling, practically spitting with wrath.


    And I wasn¡¯t the only one feeling it. Around me, the glowing eyes of creatures scattered in the clearing had locked onto the site with shared fury, their own missions likely burning in their gaze. The call had sparked like dry tinder, and even the system seemed hellbent on putting a stop to this ritual.


    But the cultists had come ready. Lining the edge of the clearing were masked warriors, elite guards stationed with chilling precision, carving down any creature reckless enough to rush in unprepared.


    I watched as a group of ox-like beasts, horns flashing, charged the line¡ªand in a blink, the masked warriors descended, turning the charge into a blur of black and a shower of entrails. The creatures poured in by the dozen, but they were nothing more than low-stage fodder, numbers barely enough to be a distraction.


    The guards, twenty-strong and each at yellow core, cut through them with ease. Low-tier creatures didn¡¯t stand a chance, no matter their numbers.


    I glanced back at the screen, noting the empty ¡°Penalty¡± slot. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder: why include it if they never slap a punishment on refusal? But my eyes settled on the elves, and a deep-rooted revulsion twisted in me, burrowing under my scales like a thorn.


    Watching them drain the dungeon¡¯s lifeblood¡ªwarping its natural chaos, forcing it into those grotesque glowing sigils¡ªmade my teeth itch. It was like they were chaining something wild, something that wasn¡¯t theirs to tame. This wasn¡¯t just an affront to the dungeon; it was a sneer at everything that survived here, everything that clawed and fought for life. Even I, ravenous and merciless as I am, was woven into this. And these leeches dared to corrupt it. I could feel my snarl rising, the urge to rip them apart itching in my claws.


    But I took a steadying breath, forcing the fury down. Focus first, bloodlust later. My claws flexed, and I nodded, the screen ¡°Mission Accepted¡± appearing before me. Rewards or not, I wasn¡¯t letting these vermin walk away from this one.


    Oh, the old me might¡¯ve had a moment¡¯s pause, maybe even turned tail like a spineless dog, leaving them to it¡ªcowardice plain as day. But that part of me was now dead and buried. I¡¯d be damned before letting those grubby vermin waltz off with whatever they were after.


    I ducked back into cover, pressing myself low into the brush, weighing up my options. Unlike those witless monsters charging headlong into their doom, I had no interest in playing the sacrificial lamb. This job wasn¡¯t about body counts, just disruption. And the main thing was¡ªmission didn¡¯t say ¡°ritual,¡± singular. It said ¡°rituals.¡± Plural. Which meant other sites like this one were likely scattered around. So, all I needed to do was throw a spanner in the works here and avoid ending up on a spit.


    Watching the chaos unfold, it became clear that not all these creatures were throwing themselves into the massacre blindly. Some flyers and slinkers were circling, lobbing attacks at the obelisk and those cloaked fanatics. But every time one got close, those masked warriors were on it, a split-second step ahead.


    Looked like they had a knack for sniffing out mana buildup. Soon as a monster tried their luck with mana, these lot were right there, dropping them like rotten fruit, leaving behind scraps of feathers or scales.


    Brute force wouldn¡¯t cut it here; same principle as when I¡¯d used my flamethrower. They sensed a surge before you¡¯d even fully formed the attack. And any creature daft enough to get airborne got plucked from the sky by elves wielding bows and staves with deadly grace. They¡¯d come ready for every bungled charge the dungeon could spit at them, which shot my original idea of sneaking in with a Lightning Bolt squarely in the foot.


    Still, worth testing. I crouched low, activating my air sense to find the nearest monster. Not far off, a beast my size was lumbering straight toward the elves. Lovely.


    Using its presence as my cover, I set to work, weaving the runes for Lightning Bolt and starting with Charge, hoping to slip under their radar. Barely got started when¡ªbam!¡ªthree masked warriors¡¯ eyes whipped right to me. Bloody hell!


    I abandoned the cast and legged it, Quick Dashing again and again to stay ahead of the closing elves. They turned on the brute I¡¯d used as cover, slicing it to ribbons in a flash of steel. Then, as calm as you please, they slid right back into formation, not a single glance in my direction.


    Peeking out from the underbrush, I felt my heartbeat finally ease. So, there it was¡ªno casting, not unless I fancied an early grave. Which left the crucial question: what the hell could I do? Every attempt at charging a rune got me seen before I¡¯d even managed a spark.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I needed a plan. Any plan. But after what felt like ages of turning over every useless idea, my mind was drawing a bloody blank. Just as I was about to throw in the towel, a bigger stir broke out right in front of me.


    A massive wolf had prowled silently into the clearing, hackles raised, eyes glowing a fierce crimson. First, its sheer size struck me¡ªthis beast wasn¡¯t merely large; it was monstrous. Second, the way it moved wasn¡¯t reckless. No charging straight at the elves, just a slow, assessing stalk. Its fur was dark as shadows, flecked with streaks of silver. Thrice the size of any wolf I¡¯d ever seen, a creature that must¡¯ve survived countless fights to evolve to this, a Stage 4 at the very least.


    The wolf¡¯s gaze scanned the scene, and for once, the Elven warriors were on edge. My enhanced vision caught a glint in its eyes, a flicker as five warriors closed in, cautious, aware. It was almost as if I could see it calculating every step, every strike.


    Its muscles tensed, lightning crackling across its fur. In an instant, it disappeared, only to reappear with a terrifying snarl right in front of the first line of masked warriors, jaws sparking with electric fury as it lunged at the nearest elf¡¯s head. I thought he¡¯d be done for, but the warrior vanished too, moving with an almost supernatural speed, blade flashing. The wolf twisted mid-air, narrowly dodging the strike and snapped back toward another warrior, teeth bared for a brutal bite at the leg.


    The wolf moved like a spectre, slipping past the first wave of elven swords with an uncanny, nimble grace. The air was a blur of blades, yet somehow, not one struck true¡ªnot on that beast. Then I spotted it¡ªa masked warrior with an arm hanging mangled. Instead of backing down, the fool popped a potion and downed it in one swig. Just like that, the arm knitted back together. Bloody hell.


    Then the wolf sprang, all teeth and fury, and for a heartbeat, I thought it might actually shatter their line. It moved like sin incarnate¡ªtoo fast, too shrewd for even these elves to match so easily. It faked left, then lunged right, catching an elf¡¯s throat in a brutal snap. But those warriors were no strangers to blood; they tightened formation, their masked faces as blank as stone, every move as sharp and coordinated as the next. And mind, this lot weren¡¯t even all on the wolf¡ªit was just one monster in a field of others. But damn if it wasn¡¯t the deadliest.


    Then, after a vicious back-and-forth, the tide seemed to turn. One muttered some gibberish, and a group of mages peeled away from the main force. I watched as spell matrices sparked underfoot, and in the blink of an eye, they¡¯d surrounded the beast, weaving a net of gleaming energy around it. A cage shot up around the wolf, and for once, it was trapped. It bolted forward, slamming into unseen walls. Lightning arced off its claws, but not a single crack appeared in those barriers.


    Just then, a masked warrior lunged from the side, blade aimed straight for the wolf¡¯s spine. But that was his mistake¡ªthe wolf¡¯s eyes gleamed; it had been waiting. With a vicious twist, it sank its fangs into the poor sod¡¯s arm, sending a surge of lightning through him that lit him up from the inside out. Blood sprayed, splattering grass and barrier alike, and for a fleeting moment, I thought the beast might turn this whole bloody mess on its head.


    But no, that wolf was caged tight, held fast in a shimmering octagon, and I could see it plain as day¡ªsomeone, somewhere, was pulling the strings, keeping those walls firmly locked around it.


    The elves didn¡¯t dare close in now, not once they realized the beast still had enough wit and brawn to bite back. They struck in measured bursts, each jab precise; whenever a spell entered, a sliver of the barrier would vanish, only to snap shut just as quick, holding the wolf pinned. Slowly, its movements grew sluggish, breaths turned ragged. The shimmering walls tightened, squeezing round its limbs until it could barely twitch. It tried to guess where the next strike would come from, but the controller had it sussed out like a child¡¯s book. And then, just as it made one last desperate move, a masked warrior drove his sword straight through its heart. The wolf crumpled, defeated at last.


    And my blood ran cold.


    Watching from the shadows, I felt a pang of... what? Frustration? Envy, even? There was respect there, for how fiercely it had fought, and a thrill at the sheer havoc it had wreaked. But in the end, it was always the same tale¡ªstrength, wit, defiance, all ground to dust. The elves, nonchalant as anything, resumed their places, their ritual unbroken, one of their own lying dead as if it meant nothing at all.


    I stole a look at the wolf¡¯s body. Poor beast tried its best. All that power amassed, and downed by a pack of blasted elves working in lockstep. The frustration knotted in my gut. What could I do, eh? Those pointy-eared bastards were too well-trained; I¡¯d be down before I even made a dent. The wolf, too. If only there were more of them, though... Just a few more, and I¡¯d love to see these overgrown tree-huggers try to hold their ground then.


    My eyes narrowed as the idea struck. What if more high-tier beasts caught wind of this little ritual? They¡¯d be drawn in, with the promise of reward from the system, and then the real fun would begin.


    More monsters, this was it. My answer. My solution! I needed more monsters here.


    Enough to get their hands full and let me charge up my lightning in peace. No need for a win¡ªjust a distraction, that¡¯s all.


    A devilish grin split my face as I slid away. Time to give these elves a taste of the beta version of The Wave.

 Chapter 71: The Horde

    With a grin that was half-mad and wholly triumphant, I took off, an oversized Creeper and some ape-brained brute tearing after me like rabid hounds. The Creeper thought itself clever, slipping on illusions to blend into the scenery like it¡¯d vanished into thin air¡ªbut the hues had its number.


    Oh, I could spot that slimy, deceitful little blur without even breaking a sweat. Stage 4, no less, just like the last one I¡¯d picked off when I first stumbled into this forest. But that one was a miserable shell, barely clinging to life. This one, though? Fresh, furious, and itching for a scrap.


    As I veered off, my wings flared, narrowly dodging a tentacle whipping out from the shadows. Twisting mid-air, I shot forward with a series of dashes, weaving through the trees in a blur, left, right, and center. My air sense painted a perfect 20-meter map around me, every branch, every root, every trunk laid bare. This wasn¡¯t some predator¡¯s pursuit, no¡ªthis was my game. And, by Thalador, was I a marvel at it.


    With the ape and Creeper in tow, keeping tabs on them was a cinch thanks to my shifting vision. Focusing on the breaths around me, I could sniff out anything else lurking nearby, sidestepping any other nasties on the prowl.


    The Creeper was never meant to be the mark of this little charade. I clocked that big lunkhead ape from some distance, tracking him down with my Air Sense, tuned right in to his thunderous breathing. Granted, the Creeper was wily, slippery as me, knew how to hold its breath to skulk past my senses. So, I arrived, and there it was, snug in its illusion, right beside the ape. Hunting it, perhaps? Well, not anymore. I sent its plans straight to the gutter, when I blindsided it with a lightning bolt. The ape too, caught sight of me after that¡ªterritorial beast, frothing at the mouth. Now, both of them tearing after me like they had a prayer of catching me.


    With my Rapid Recovery Dash, Breath of Shadows, and honed vision, I could keep tabs on both louts and every twist in the landscape. My air sense laid out every root and ridge, and my dashes had me dodging like a ghost, leaving these two so-called stage 4 hunters floundering.


    Of course, all this darting about was chewing through my stamina faster than I¡¯d prefer. Each dash had its price, but I wasn¡¯t sweating. My calculations were spot-on; I¡¯d reach my goal with a comfortable 10 points in reserve¡ªand the Surge Reservoir untouched.


    Plenty in the tank.


    And so the dance dragged on, the Creeper nipping at my heels a few times too close for comfort. The ape, though¡ªthick as brick and twice as clueless. In a fit of sheer brute instinct, it ripped a tree from the earth, charring it to cinders with flares erupting from its hulking frame, and hurled it in my direction. Naturally, I slipped aside with all the ease of a leaf in the breeze. The lumbering fool took so long winding up that even a halfwit would¡¯ve seen it coming.


    But eventually, I broke through to the clearing. With a flick of my wings, I dove into the underbrush, weaving around to catch my bearings. The ape, daft as it was, instantly lost interest, eyes locked onto the ritual ahead, where the system¡¯s siren call promised it rewards far juicier than chasing me. The Creeper, though, clung to my trail a bit longer before it, too, lost heart.


    Now, the Elven warriors¡¯ tension was so thick you could cut it with a dagger. But that wouldn¡¯t be enough. I felt the presence of even more breaths nearby, crouching in the shadows. Perfect timing. I tapped into my Surge Reservoir, refilling my stamina with a satisfying 15 points, putting me at a cool 30. Then I retreated further¡ªtime to max out the tank.


    A lone stage 3 wolf caught my eye, and I dispatched it before it even knew what hit it. Barely a minute later, I¡¯d devoured the beast, meat scarcely touching my tongue before it was gone, and my stamina sat at a perfect, full charge.


    Now for the grand finale. A hulking ox, a scaly vulture swooping above, a writhing pack of serpents slithering through the shadows¡ªI lured them all, darting just close enough to tantalize them, then leading the pack straight towards the ritual site. And bit by bit, the beasts were gathering, drawn by the commotion. Stage 4 predators now circled the clearing like hungry wolves, a veritable army converging on the Elves¡¯ precious little ritual.


    ***


    Al¨¦rion! Nom de dieu, what in the flaming abyss is even happening?!


    Al¨¦rion d''Argelys, captain of the Thorn Guards and head of the mages tasked with safeguarding the ritual 3, felt the jarring pulse of a psychic link in his mind yet again. He didn¡¯t need to guess who sent it¡ªthe red haze in his eyes darted straight to the source: Elionor, clad in his ever-ominous black mask, currently facing off against a pack of stage-four feathered serpents. Warriors¡¯ commander, just as he commanded the mages. But as for an answer? Al¨¦rion had none, save for his own rising irritation.


    No time for rumination either; his hands were aflame with spellwork, casting and commanding as fast as he breathed, hurling each enchantment at the monstrous swarm while coordinating the mages under his charge.


    The plan? Laughably simple at the outset. Stage-three monsters, some occasional stage-fours; nothing they couldn¡¯t manage. But why the bloody hell were they flocking here en masse? It had all seemed so straightforward until now. His gaze hardened as he watched yet another wave of hulking beasts surge toward the clearing.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Merde!


    Steeling himself, Al¨¦rion¡¯s burning red eyes gleamed from behind his mask, churning with renewed mana as circles blazed. The chaos of the ritual site, riddled with felled creatures, now offered him an arsenal of corpses. With a flick of his fingers and a pulse of rune-charged energy, he began the animation of the remains of the fallen, directing two mages to fortify the barriers, leaving him undisturbed as he began weaving the bodies together.


    From the earth, thorned tendrils coiled upward, sinking into the carcasses, crimson blood buzzing through torn veins as he worked. Somewhere in the mess, Elionor¡¯s voice shot through the din.


    "Lucen, Aure! Flank and hold the line. Keep them clear of the center!"


    For a flicker of a moment, Al¨¦rion almost envied him¡ªwatching Elionor¡¯s warriors move with unflinching discipline, their coordination flawless. His mages, on the other hand, were as reliable as a rotten rope bridge. Even that sorry bastard Darvin had better underlings! He cuffed the mage in front of him, his focus never wavering from the runes he held.


    ¡°Keep the barrier intact, you blithering ass! And for the love of Selene, look up!¡±


    An eagle-like beast circled above them, and the unfortunate mage scrambled, hurling a feeble spell that barely fazed the creature but at least startled it. Merveilleux.


    Al¨¦rion¡¯s gaze shifted back to Elionor¡¯s unit¡ªan elegant machine of death, swords flashing and disappearing like a phantom''s grin. But even their prowess was beginning to falter under the onslaught of high-tier beasts.


    The final rune flared in Al¨¦rion¡¯s mind. The corpses were ready, woven together with grisly precision. One final array of runes, and he snapped the command.


    "Deathroot Reclamation!"


    The bodies lurched upright, brought to life by his path''s magics as thorny vines unwound, leaving each corpse charged with a sinister, pulsing intent. With one sharp command, he unleashed them on the incoming creatures, not sparing them another look.


    He repeated the spell with another group, marshaling his reanimated horde¡ªa collection of twisted parodies of their former selves, clawing and biting with a fury so grotesque that under other circumstances, it might¡¯ve brought a smile to his face. Dark thorny tendrils of magic twined and twisted through the air, cutting relentlessly through the ranks of feathered serpents. They even nipped at the heels of Elionor¡¯s warriors when his focus waned. A constant, brutal edge. It was a battle growing beyond control.


    He tried to ignore his own frustration. His concentration had every right to waver, given the overwhelming force against them¡ªstage 4 beasts in their dozens, while lower-stage creatures slinked in below the main fray. For a few unfortunate soldiers, a split-second lapse was enough; they fell victim to flashing claws or venom-dripping fangs.


    As his mana ebbed, he grimaced, downing a potion to stave off the growing ache in his head. This was his battleground, full of fallen bodies ready to rise on his command, yet even his army began to thin. Their bodies collapsed to ash, torn beyond repair by fresh waves of serpents and hideous beasts that ground his defenses down.


    Despite Al¨¦rion¡¯s path of the Guardian of Undeath, the odds looked grim; each monster slain was replaced by two more, snapping and snarling with malevolence. The monsters pushed ever closer to the ritual, as if it were a dangling prize, leaving trails of blood and ruin in their wake.


    Panic spread among the ritualists. Al¨¦rion might have reassured them¡ªif he¡¯d had the chance, if he could.


    With his warriors¡¯ desperate cries, Elionor¡¯s barked orders, and his own weary mage force barely holding their ground, Al¨¦rion felt a bitter truth solidify in his gut: they were losing, and losing badly.


    His hands remained steady as he drew every last drop of mana into his spellwork, his head pounding from the incessant consumption of mana potions. He conjured malicious thorns that siphoned life, growing stronger with each surge. But the tide of battle surged too fiercely. A cruel thorn construct erupted from the ground to intercept a swooping beast, only to be shredded by another that lunged in behind it.


    Before he could issue commands, his mages broke formation, retreating in a frenzy. He wanted to yell¡ªto hurl insults at their ineptitude¡ªbut he understood their panic all too well. He bit his tongue, forcing himself to bark out orders, desperately trying to reel his line back into formation, but even that frayed resistance began to unravel.


    His heartbeat thundered as he surveyed the carnage: half of Elionor¡¯s warriors lay dead, two of his own mages who had supported them were gone.


    They had to abandon the ritual, and fast! Better a bruised ego and a botched mission than a guaranteed death sentence.


    Through clenched teeth, Al¨¦rion stole one last look at the ritual site¡ªthe pulsing glyphs and the intricate spellwork¡ªbut there was no way they were close to completion. Pushing it even a moment longer would be suicide, even for him.


    The gnawing dread of the Warden''s wrath loomed larger with each passing second. The Warden was already fuming over the earlier failed ritual that had seen a Netherbeast materialize and annihilate them all. That defeat had made him bitter and cautious, and Al¨¦rion could only imagine the pain that awaited him as punishment. He relayed the news to Elionor, who cursed him and protested vehemently. Yet, witnessing the unfolding chaos, he quickly relented.


    Every corner of Al¨¦rion¡¯s mind screamed to keep fighting, to not to risk the Warden¡¯s ire rather than retreat. But the primal fear of death¡ªbloody and imminent, clawing for them in the here and now¡ªoverpowered that urge. There was no honor in feeding his corpse to these monsters. Better to face the day of reckoning later than a funeral tonight.


    Besides, they were just retreating. The obelisk and the Creation Orb conjured with it would remain safe. They could always recreate the ritual later. Yes.


    Determination surged, Al¨¦rion shattered his ongoing spells, tapping into his belt and seizing a ring. He commanded every mage to channel their mana into him through their connection. Thorny roots erupted beneath each of them and the ritualists, piercing their hands as he siphoned their mana. Another matrix formed, and the dead began to feed him even more as he funneled everything into this one-time teleportation ring.


    A massive teleportation spell circle blossomed beneath them while warriors fell back and mages cast a collective barrier to hold the horde at bay. Elionor let out a pained grunt as he fell beside him. The monsters clawed and tore at the barrier, which began to crack in places, but Al¨¦rion kept his focus; the teleportation was almost complete.


    As he charged the final rune, he felt a tremendous surge of foreign mana building behind them. Before he could react, a gravelly scream filled with hatred pierced the air.


    ¡°LIGHTNING BOLT!¡±


    The last thing he saw was a fierce bolt of white tearing through the barrier, striking the obelisk and the surrounding ritualists with deadly precision just before they vanished from the battlefield.

 Chapter 72: Deadly Little Monster Train

    [Rewards received: +6 to all stats, +3 Skill Points, +20 Morphogen]


    [Progress: ?]


    A grin split my face, but it was immediately replaced by a wince as I clutched my arms, skin scorched and burning, breaths coming out in ragged gasps.


    Holy shit, maybe I''d gone a bit too far. I knew my Lightning Bolt spells were safely capped at 10 mana¡ªanything above that risked ripping through my mana veins. Last time, I¡¯d pushed to 15, felt a little burning damage to claws but came out fine. This time, though, I''d gone all-in, layering a full 25 mana into the spell: ten, ten, and five in all three runes. More just to punch through.


    I felt the consequence, every inch of my veins fried from forcing that much lightning through them.


    But it was necessary. If I hadn¡¯t poured everything into that barrier, those elven bastards might''ve slipped away again, just like the last two times. I wasn¡¯t going to let some mystical defense protect that damned obelisk they were huddled around. My veins would heal eventually. But if those elves had gotten their ritual off without a hitch, I¡¯d be left gnashing my teeth over a lost chance. This? Worth it.


    Still, I was uncertain. The screen had flashed the ¡°success¡± notification, but my head was spinning from the aftermath. The recoil had launched me clear off the tree I¡¯d been perched on, and I¡¯d barely caught myself as I crashed to the ground below. When I shook myself off and looked back, I realized the clearing was empty. The lead mage had pulled some ring from his robes right before the lightning struck¡ªit must have been enchanted for emergency teleportation.


    Tsk. I was frustrated. Those pointy-eared bastards always had these tricks. Dodged me again. That was three times now¡ªthree! Every time I¡¯d gone after an elf, they¡¯d slipped right through my claws. Swiping the system screen away, I spotted a monster skulking near the edge of the clearing, a scaled bird eyeing me as if I were a piece of prey.


    I grinned as I sprawled like the dead. Perfect. It inched closer.


    In a flash, my tail whipped out, coiling tight around its neck. It thrashed, beak snapping in protest, but it didn¡¯t stand a chance. A stage three against me, with gold-rank evolutions? Please.


    YOINK!


    One swift pull, a Spectral Crunch, and it went limp.


    [You have slain a Level 4 Avesquamata Dracocinctus (III).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Skill point(s) obtained: +1.]


    Ahh, there it was¡ªthe level up I''d been waiting for. With every new stage, the stat disparity between me and the other Stage 3 creatures around here only widened. My bonus stats per level were leagues above what any common-ranked monster would get. It made me wonder: what kind of monster could those rainbow-hued tomes have made me?


    Just a little food for thought while I dug into my scaled snack, tearing into it with big, greedy gulps. And soon, two more morphogens added to the mix, seeping into my system as the familiar warmth healed my mana veins and replenished my stamina.


    Ah, Macro-Trophic Sac, my cherished, repulsive sack of wonders! What in blazes would I do without ye?


    But the feast ended quick as I caught sight of the lot that¡¯d filled the clearing¡ªmonsters all around, milling about like they''d misplaced their marbles now that the elves had pulled a vanishing act. That¡¯s when it hit me: they¡¯d gone full horde mentality. Normally, these beasts would be at each other¡¯s throats, right? But here they were, all shoulder-to-shoulder against a common enemy. More like the tales I''d heard of Waves, where hordes formed, the monsters acting as if there was a shared objective rather than a natural kill-or-be-killed law. Not a single gluttonous glance at each other; they were dead-set on sniffing out their missing prey.


    Some of the winged ones took to the skies, the rest lumbered around clueless, even checking the bushes, like they were piecing together the world''s biggest puzzle. I even noticed some with that faraway gaze¡ªlikely assigning their own skill points after gaining the shared rewards from destroying the obelisk. One massive ape-thing was even rolling around on the ground, mutating right out in the open. Good grief, no survival instincts whatsoever?


    Well, one ritual was down, three more to go. And the way I saw it, the element of surprise was still on our side if we moved quickly enough. The surviving elves would likely be warning the others, but the shifting hues in the distance gave away the location of the next ritual site. And I couldn¡¯t trust this horde to stumble on it by sheer luck.


    No, once more, I¡¯d have to be the bait, drawing them all to the second ritual like a twisted Pied Piper. My grin widened. They¡¯d never see it coming.


    A quick hop into the air, and there it was: my target. A grin split my face as I swooped down and planted myself right in front of it¡ªour red ape friend from before, still nursing a few bruises. The moment it laid eyes on me, a vein popped on its thick skull. I gave it a cheeky little tail wiggle, raising my posterior high and swaying it. Ahh, I winked at it, an audacious little lure if I do say so myself.


    It worked a charm. The ape''s eyes bulged, and it let out a roar of pure rage, thundering after me like its life depended on it. And it wasn¡¯t alone. A serpent I¡¯d managed to snag noticed me too, along with a few other Stage Four brutes. Oh, they took the bait alright. With a wicked laugh, I sprang to the side, bolting away just as the mob lunged after me.


    ¡°AHAHAHA!¡± The thrill shot through me, raw and electric. My life was hanging by a thread, yet I was pushing it, dancing with danger as I lured these beasts. By Thalador, I¡¯d never felt more alive.


    Left, right, up, down¡ªI darted like a whisper in the wind, skirting around trees and diving through brush. A growing mass of fur, scales, claws, and venom surged behind me, the line of beasts swelling by the second. And I, the twisted conductor, was leading this monstrous parade straight to elven doom.


    The hues in the distance shifted faster, the ritual site drawing close. More monsters from surroundings piled into my deadly little train, their snarls and roars growing into a symphony of chaos.


    These elves? Oh, they were utterly, gloriously FUCKED!


    ***


    A dull ache thumped in Carel¡¯s skull as he stirred, the sting in his ribs reminding him that waking up could indeed be an unwelcome affair. By Selene''s name, what in the realms had happened? They¡¯d almost had that beast cornered, and then¡ªjust like that¡ªhis world had flipped on him, hitting him with a pain unlike any he''d felt before. With a groggy squint, he took in his surroundings: the healer¡¯s tent, where the healer herself hovered over him, hands glowing softly as she muttered under her breath.


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Why this particular memory resurfaced now, he didn¡¯t know. Better a scar than a story, his father used to say, tales were only worth telling if they had to be. And here he was, barely clinging on, another tale gnawing at him from within.


    He couldn¡¯t help it; a sardonic chuckle escaped, but it quickly turned to a grimace as pain shot through his ribs. ¡°Merde,¡± he hissed, clutching his side. ¡°Remind me next time not to believe we¡¯ve got the beast cornered. It seems¡­ unwise, in retrospect.¡±


    It came back to him: they had cornered the beast¡ªuntil something hit him, and everything went dark.


    The healer, a young, pale elven woman with a bundle of bottles rattling at her side, shot him a fierce glare. ¡°Keep wriggling, Carel, and you¡¯ll have more than that to regret,¡± she muttered, dabbing a pungent green potion onto his bruised side. ¡°Honestly, you delvers think you can just keep gulping down potions for any and every injury. Your body is not a pack mule.¡±


    Carel let his gaze drift to Soril, who stood nearby with a dazed expression. He vaguely recalled the sharp taste of potions forced down his throat. ¡°Ahh,¡± he grunted, ¡°so it¡¯s you who¡¯s been so liberal with the potions?¡±


    Soril, suddenly leaped with a startled expression, blinked as if she¡¯d only just realized he was awake. ¡°I¡­ well, you weren¡¯t waking up, Carel. You convulsed, and there was foam at your mouth when Lira tried one of those potions¡ª¡±


    Carel gave a rough laugh, which sent another jab of pain through his ribs. ¡°That tall wretch must¡¯ve done it on purpose,¡± he joked, wincing at his own words. But Soril didn¡¯t catch his jest and plunged into an earnest explanation. Carel held up a hand, shaking his head with a faint wince.


    Once the healer had gathered her things and stormed out, Carel turned back to Soril, his tone low as he watched the tent flaps still quivering from her departure. ¡°Alright, Soril. I know something¡¯s eating at you¡ªout with it. And where the hell is Lira?¡±


    Soril shifted uncomfortably, glancing down before meeting Carel¡¯s gaze. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ well, it wasn¡¯t just some random ambush. You were hit by lightning spell, Carel. And it wasn¡¯t from any monster.¡±


    Carel blinked, letting the words sink in. ¡°A fucking elf?! Another delver?! Don¡¯t be absurd, Soril! Why would anyone target us? There are plenty of missions, and only a few teams. No one else signed up for this creature¡ªlet alone tagged along to sabotage us.¡±


    Soril¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°Oh, really? Then how else would you explain it? You think that a monster suddenly took up spellcasting? I heard the casting of the spell, Carel. Only one way that happens, and a beast can¡¯t do that.¡±


    Carel winced as his head gave a sickening swirl, forcing him to steady himself. ¡°So¡­ we¡¯re dealing with an elf delver, someone from our own ranks, hitting us with lightning magic? I thought it was the creature¡¯s mother or some higher-stage beast.¡± He shook his head. ¡°What about Lira?¡±


    Soril hesitated, her lips tightening. ¡°She went to report it. Apparently, we¡¯re not the only ones who¡¯ve been hit. The handlers think it¡¯s this.¡± She pulled a mission pamphlet from her pocket, unfolding it to reveal a shadowy sketch of a serpent-like creature with elongated claws and a tail like a whip, the details hazy and almost ghostly. ¡°They¡¯re saying this is responsible for the attacks. I don¡¯t know much more, but they¡¯re in a right fury about it. They¡¯ve questioned every delver on-site, asking if anyone¡¯s run into high-level lightning magic recently. Even offering to pay for the information.¡±


    Carel squinted at the drawing, letting out a disbelieving huff. ¡°Like the spell we got hit with¡ªbut you¡¯re saying it wasn¡¯t from the creature.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. And that¡¯s why Lira¡¯s reporting it. If there¡¯s a high-level mage messing with us, maybe they¡¯re cloaking themselves behind the creature. Could explain why no one else heard a spell being cast.¡±


    Carel mulled this over, a deep frown setting into his face. ¡°Doesn¡¯t add up. If they¡¯re issuing missions for us to capture this thing, why are they so convinced this creature is to blame? They¡¯re cagey at the best of times, but something here reeks.¡± He looked back at Soril. ¡°Did you ask for more details?¡±


    Soril let out a sarcastic laugh. ¡°Yeah, right. Information exchange with those handlers is as one-sided as it gets. And I don¡¯t trust them. They¡¯re hiding something big¡ªI don¡¯t know what, but I¡¯m getting a bad feeling it¡¯s more than just a ¡®creature.¡¯¡±


    Carel pondered for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re holding onto that mission pamphlet pretty tightly for someone who doesn¡¯t trust the handlers. Something tells me you weren¡¯t just waiting to inform me about it.¡±


    Soril scoffed, flipping the pamphlet and tapping the rewards section with a grin. ¡°Why do you think the three of us even signed up for this? Look.¡±


    Carel leaned in, and his eyes widened. The reward listed was staggering, nearly five times what they¡¯d ever seen for a single hunt. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± he muttered, barely able to contain his shock.


    Carel shifted, careful not to reopen the wounds that had finally begun to mend. Frustration flared in him, sharper than the physical ache. Growing up in Lithrindel¡¯s capital, city of ¨¦ravenne, had been filled with dreams¡ªuntil his father¡¯s untimely death and his uncle¡¯s ruthless grab at the family estate. In the blink of an eye, he¡¯d been left nearly penniless. Now, every coin he earned at the border barely covered his needs, let alone the life he¡¯d envisioned.


    A single windfall, enough for the ¨¦ravenne¡¯s Academy tuition¡­ it would solve everything. He¡¯d been bottlenecked at low yellow core for a year now, the point where almost everyone needed guidance to advance. Without it, he could be stuck forever, unable to reach red core, let alone gold. But with proper training? He could rise through the ranks and finally delve with the best. This was their shared goal¡ªhis, Soril¡¯s, and Lira¡¯s. They¡¯d been scraping by and saving every coin, all for the Academy. Desperation had brought them here.


    He looked at Soril. ¡°One thing doesn¡¯t make sense. Why the hell are they offering this much for one beast?¡±


    Soril shrugged. ¡°Lira¡¯s already been talking about adding a divinator to the team. If nothing changes after she reports back to the handlers with what we know, it¡¯ll only mean one thing.¡±


    She looked him dead in the eye. ¡°Either this creature¡¯s bonded to someone, or it¡¯s smart enough to cast spells.¡±


    A hint of unease prickled at Carel, but he pushed it aside with a wry grin. ¡°None of that matters to us.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Soril agreed, her grin matching his. ¡°Since we¡¯ll be the first ones to hunt it.¡±

 Chapter 73: The Technique

    [MISSION COMPLETE: Save the Dungeon]


    [Objective Accomplished: All Rituals Eradicated.]


    [Total Reward: Permanent +24 to All Stats | +12 Skill Points | Morphogen Accumulated: +80 | Special Prize: Granted for Complete Ritual Eradication: An extra rare organ choice upon next evolution. +1 Technique Recipe. +1 Skill Fusion Token.]


    I kept this particular screen open, grinning as I eyed it and took another hearty bite of monster meat right off the bone. One of those apes fancied itself a tough nut, but look at it now¡ªresting snugly in my belly. Good riddance.


    Meanwhile, my mana veins patched themselves up nicely. I¡¯d dismantled four rituals in a row¡ªyes, all four¡ªby waltzing the monsters right into them. They were rather close together, so it was an easy job. Well, theoretically easy. The reality of baiting a few stage-fours with nothing but myself as bait? Far from simple. Luckily, I had just the skillset for the art of sneak and sprint.


    Taking another generous bite, I peered out from the bushes where I¡¯d nestled. The ritual site lay empty once more. Elves, crafty buggers, always kept contingencies. A teleportation ring, not your average getaway trick either, but one that transported everything in range¡ªorganic or not. It might¡¯ve even been influenced by the mage¡¯s mind, but that was just speculation. Point is, they always managed to slip away, and there wasn¡¯t a thing I could do about it.


    Oh, and they had proper barriers to keep the monsters at bay, even herded them with some skill. Sharp operators, this lot. They knew when to leg it, and despite the monsters¡¯ best attempts at a slaughter, the Elves saved their skins.


    I even took a shot with my lightning at the mage who seemed to be leading the pack, barking orders beside the obelisk. Thought if I could rattle him enough, he¡¯d fumble with the ring and leave them all to perish. No such luck. His shield held firm, and they vanished before I could savour the moment.


    Glancing around, I realised the mission was officially a bust. The monsters fell back to their old ways; some were making a break for it, likely after their spoils. That is, until one of those stage-four apes decided to square off against a serpentine creature, sparking utter chaos. I slipped past unnoticed¡ªuntil a stage 3 ape set its sights on me. Well, I won in the end. His loss, my supper. Now all that was left was the taste of victory as I gnawed these bones.


    With my stamina restored and my wounds knitting up, I figured it was high time to make myself scarce.


    The din of monsters clawing each other to shreds behind me was rather insistent, but I paid it no mind, focusing on Air Sense. My head throbbed, the result of having pushed myself through a litany of spells and overloaded runes. But I pressed on, another Dash carrying me between bushes, avoiding anything Air Sense flagged. I kept my eyes peeled, lenses shifting to take in every last detail, hues brightening everything for a better look. It was almost second nature by now.


    And soon enough, I stumbled upon my own claw marks, leading me right to my little nook. The badger was still there, and judging by her little pile of rat monsters, she¡¯d kept herself occupied. She perked up as I entered, giving a little chirp¡ªa welcome, I reckoned. The way I understood monsters was more¡­ instinct than language, a kind of feeling, if you will. I patted her with a word of thanks and then collapsed beside her.


    Oh, Thalador, what a day. Even as exhaustion took me, I couldn¡¯t shake the grin on my face. Still, despite my success, one niggling worry kept gnawing at me: divination. I¡¯d been the one who¡¯d whipped the hordes into a frenzy, the one who¡¯d disrupted those rituals¡ªand in doing so, I¡¯d no doubt left some sort of mark, ripe for any divination hounds to sniff out.


    I hadn¡¯t the faintest idea how divination worked, of course. It was one of those oh-so-secretive paths, rarely spoken of, even rarer to tread, and mastering it was practically unheard of. I didn¡¯t even know what sort of affinities could conjure up such magic.


    Caution, then. Yes, caution was in order. At least I¡¯d managed to throw them off my scent a bit¡ªunintentionally. Every time I cast a spell, I had to call out its name to fire it off. It¡¯s just what everyone does in the beginning; after enough practice, you learn to pull that trigger silently. But I was nowhere near that level, so I shouted when the adrenaline kicked in. It might just serve as a smokescreen, though¡ªmonsters aren¡¯t exactly known for spellcasting, let alone in human tongue. If anyone tried to divine what happened, I could only hope they¡¯d be left scratching their heads.


    Anyway, I really ought to have a word with Lotte. But before drifting off to the land of dreams, I cast a quick glance at the screen. Might as well cash in those rewards while I was still awake. And, oh-ho, there were new goodies I hadn¡¯t the foggiest about.


    Each of my stats had leapt by 24. Every. Single. One. That was like twelve levels¡¯ worth of gold-ranked stat points. I was lethal before, but now? Positively lethal-plus. Though I hadn¡¯t the faintest if every monster snagged the same rewards; I was the one who smacked the obelisk and put a proper end to the ritual. Surely that was worth something extra. I shook my head¡ªwell, if all the monsters did get boosted, then good for them. But right now, my head was throbbing too much to give a toss.


    Right then, on to the new loot. My gaze fixed on the technique recipe and the skill fusion token. It mentioned that Techniques were fusions of skills, so maybe this token was a must-have. With all the skills I¡¯d piled up, I was certain I should¡¯ve unlocked some kind of Technique by now. Yes, it all fit together.


    Now, time to focus on that recipe.


    [Utilize 1 Technique Recipe to initiate search for optimal learnable techniques? Confirm: Y/N]


    Yes. Seemed simple enough.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    [Recommended Technique: Phantom Dragon Dance]


    <ul>


    <li>


    Requirements: 2x Tier III Attacking Skills, 1x Tier II Stealth Skill, 1x Tier II Dodge Skill, >4 Attacking Skills, Strength >50, Intelligence >60,


    </li>


    <li>


    Resources Required: 1x Skill Fusion Token, 6x Skill Points.


    </li>


    </ul>


    Caution:


    ? Techniques result in fusion of multiple skills. Original effects of fused skills are retained and amplified according to the technique¡¯s nature. All fused skills will progress only as the technique advances.


    ? Each technique advancement adds new effects to each skill in alignment with the technique¡¯s nature. Natural progression of individual skills is disabled upon fusion.


    Current Target Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Echo Claw Swipe, Spectral Crunch, Shadow Blur, Rapid Recovery Dash, Tail Whip, Crush Claw


    </li>


    </ul>


    Effect (Tier I: Phantom Dragon Dance):


    User enters a phantom-like state, making visual tracking difficult and enhancing perception of incoming attacks. Stance persists and intensifies during movement. Consumes stamina while in stance.


    <ul>


    <li>


    Distortion Aura: Generates a distortion field, creating a flickering, blurred effect. User can nearly vanish while stationary, blending into surroundings.


    </li>


    <li>


    Phase Dash: Enables phasing through small obstacles, walls, or debris, facilitating evasive movement around opponents.


    </li>


    <li>


    Unpredictable Strikes: Attacking skills cause body parts to shimmer intermittently, disorienting opponents and obscuring strike timing.


    </li>


    </ul>


    Added Skill Effects:


    ? Echo Claw Swipe: Echo effect gains chance to bypass non-magical defenses.


    ? Spectral Crunch: Follow-up crunch has chance to bypass non-magical defenses.


    ? Shadow Blur: Conceals user¡¯s heat signature.


    ? Rapid Recovery Dash: Cooldown further reduced by 50%.


    ? Tail Whip: Option to consume stamina for increased damage output.


    ? Crush Claw: Option to consume stamina for increased damage output.


    [Tier I Effect: Distortion Aura radiates within a limited area around the user.]


    I just stared at it, jaw hanging open before I caught myself. What in Thalador¡¯s beard did I just read? It looked like a path technique, but instead of pulling from mana, this one would draw on stamina.


    Now, Lotte was already teaching me the Lightning Serpent technique for the path, but this¡­ Knowing the system, the knowledge would be beamed straight into my head. A full-blown path technique, stamina-based? My brain scrambled to process it all, though admittedly it was starting to short-circuit. I gave my head a shake.


    Powerful, no doubt. First, a recipe, then a fusion token, and it would cost six skill points on top of that¡ªall while using my most powerful skills as its core. But as I squinted at the description, I realised that although it called for two Tier-3 attacking skills, it seemed to be building on Shadow Blur as the base. Might be some hidden requirement lurking there.


    I did what I always did¡ªstopped gawking and started analyzing. The caution part caught my attention. So, it said that while this would merge my skills and pile on new effects as the technique advanced, I¡¯d lose the usual flexibility in upgrading those individual skills. Still, I¡¯d retain the core knowledge of the skills, effects included, and could use them outside of the stance, too.


    But the downside? Once fused, I¡¯d forfeit my usual freedom in tweaking these skills¡¯ progressions. And that¡­ didn¡¯t sit well with me. Sure, it was powerful, but there was something irksome about sacrificing that flexibility.


    While I stewed over it, my badger friend helpfully piled in two more rats and a bird. Efficient little hunter¡ªshe must¡¯ve had some skill upgrades of her own. I gave her a pat, splitting the spoils. I munched on the rats, gaining one morphogen from a few bites, while she lounged contentedly near my stomach. Cozy little companion; I was starting to get fond of her.


    But my focus stayed glued to the screen. The headache intensified with every thought. Ugh. I dismissed it for now. Maybe a chat with Lotte would clear up the finer points on these techniques.


    First things first, though. I had some skill points to spend. If I wanted that technique eventually, and it would retain the skills¡¯ effects at the moment of fusion, I ought to level up Crush Claw and Tail Whip before merging.


    I pulled up my stat screen.


    Name: Jade


    Level: 6


    Species: Voracious Manaweaver (Draconis) (III)


    Abilities: Mana Devourer


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 51


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 68


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 76


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 63


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 32/52


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 43/93


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Echo Claw Swipe: Level 2 (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Tail Whip: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Shadow Blur: Level 6 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Spectral Crunch: Level 2 (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Rapid Recovery Dash: Level 4 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flight: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Deep Breathing: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Breath of Shadows: Level 3 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Climb: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Crush Claw: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flamethrower: Level 4 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Advanced Mana Manipulation: Level 3 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Core Stabilization: Level 4 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Lightning Affinity: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes - Focusing Lenses, Peripheral Optimization (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws - Claw Flexibility, Razor-Edge Claws (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales - Colour Adaptation, Shock-Absorbent Scales (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings - Hollow Bones (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir, Mana Conservation (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac - Stamina Surge Reservoir, Toxicity Neutralizer (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Conduit Vasculature - Micro-Mana Control (II): +4


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 13


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 90


    </li>


    </ul>


    And another thing¡ªwhat in Thalador¡¯s name was going on with my stamina points? I couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of what actually increased them. My brain did a whole acrobatic routine through the headache, trying to work it out based on my physical stats, but I came up empty. No pattern at all. Bizarre.


    I shook it off. Priorities, right? I had a few things to check off before crashing. First up, those skill upgrades. And damn, Flamethrower was just a hair¡¯s breadth from hitting level 5¡ªI knew I was close. After skills, I needed to take a look at advancing the Mana Conduit Vasculature mutation.


    No time to waste. I dove right in.

 Chapter 74: Wake Up

    The options flickered up before me once more, and I didn¡¯t dawdle a tick sifting through them. I settled on Sweeping Surge for Tail Whip¡ªit would give it a lovely broadening and add a bit of brawn, ideal for wide, sweeping strikes that packed more disruption. As for Crush Claw, I chose Sunder Strike¡ªa proper gem for landing a precise wallop, breaking through tougher defenses and armor with ease.


    Honestly, I couldn¡¯t have been more chuffed with the upgrades. I¡¯d had my reservations about the technique¡ªpowerful as it was, it kept me cautiously intrigued. But, let¡¯s face it, I wouldn¡¯t be regretting this choice any time soon. The stronger my skills grew, the more confounding the choices became. Decision-fatigue was setting in, truth be told, so the idea of upgrades aligning themselves naturally with my technique¡¯s nature? Well, why the bloody hell not!


    That said, I still planned to have a natter with Lotte about it. It sounded beastly, after all, and it was never a bad shout to get a second opinion. I squinted into the middle distance, perhaps a tad too much for effect. But on to more pressing matters¡ªtime to tackle this Mana Conduit Vasculature upgrade.


    I took a quick survey of the surroundings. My little badger chum was off in the land of nod, and Air Sense whispered no hint of any sneaky nuisances lurking about. All looked clear. Right then, no more dilly-dallying. The thought of this particular mutation made me wince, though¡ªthe pain was in a league of its own, like a wasabi-kick to the spine, only worse. But that stubborn, dragon-hearted side of me balked at the very idea of shying away from a bit of pain. So, with fierce resolve, I dove straight in.


    One brutal, blazing stint of agony later, the advancement lay there waiting.


    [Mana Conduit Vasculature: Tier II Advancement Options]


    <ul>


    <li>


    Mana Reabsorption Nodes: Enables passive mana recovery post-ability use. Specialized nodes along mana conduits absorb residual energy from abilities, providing consistent replenishment while erasing all mana traces, enhancing both sustainability and stealth.


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Burst Capacitors: Allows temporary mana surges for high-powered abilities. Biological "capacitors" store excess mana, enabling momentary power boosts for any mana-based attack or ability. Enhances impact significantly for one use without core mana drain.


    </li>


    <li>


    Diffusive Mana Network: Distributes low-level mana throughout body tissues. This diffusion enhances physical resilience and provides slight resistance to mana-based attacks, adding a passive defensive layer across muscles and skin.


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Conduit Resilience: Reinforces conduit structure to handle intense mana flow. Strengthened conduits allow for sustained high-output spells with reduced strain, supporting prolonged powerful attacks with minimal recoil.


    </li>


    </ul>


    Ohhh, blimey. These options were improving by the second, weren¡¯t they? I scanned the list of upgrades, each one a vague pulse of potential just waiting at the edge of my awareness. Four options, and I had to pick one. Smashing¡ªabsolutely no pressure there, right? Cheers, System! I¡¯d wager my arse it was having a proper laugh, dangling such tempting choices before me and demanding I choose just one. What a sadistic little bastard.


    Ah, well, couldn¡¯t afford to half-arse this one like I did with those skills earlier. I needed to give this a good think.


    First up, Mana Reabsorption Nodes. Sounded simple enough. Bit of extra mana trickling in after each ability¡ªno fuss, no extra thought required. It¡¯d kick in automatically after every cast, just set and forget. Solid, consistent, no strings attached. And the added perk of erasing traces of my mana after every use¡ªspot on for slipping past any bothersome divinators. But, let¡¯s be honest, I already had a few recovery tricks up my sleeve, and surely some anti-divination spells would do the job better. No sense wasting an entire upgrade on this one, really.


    Then there was Mana Burst Capacitors. Basically, a sudden zap of extra juice when I needed it. Think of it as the Stamina Surge Reservoir¡¯s magical cousin. The boost it¡¯d give me in a pinch¡ªcrikey, I could hit harder, catch someone off-guard. Plus, a cheeky way of having more mana than I technically should. Solid choice, if I¡¯m honest.


    Next, the Diffusive Mana Network. Oh, Thalador, just the name made me fancy it. This one spread a light layer of mana throughout my body, a bit like a passive shield. Resilience against physical damage, with a bit of magical defense on the side. Considering everyone and their mum would be slinging spells at me from here on, a constant boost to defense, both physical and magical, wasn¡¯t the worst idea.


    And lastly: Mana Conduit Resilience¡ªreinforcing my mana pathways so I could push my limits longer without burning out. Well, bugger me sideways! I narrowed my eyes and shot a look skyward. Was the System messing with my mind, digging into my thoughts? ¡­oh, right, of course it was. It was basically rearranging my memories and even muscle memory to give me new skills. That realization sent a cold shiver down my spine. Whoever¡ªor whatever¡ªput this together was either godlike or had a bloody twisted sense of humour. Either way, impressive and properly unsettling. Gave my head a shake to clear it.


    Point was, I¡¯d been wondering if the System would offer me reinforced mana veins in the next upgrade¡ªthe one thing I¡¯d been struggling with. And wouldn¡¯t you know, it just might be the most overpowered option here, especially for someone like me. I could cast spells, sure, but right now, there was a cap on how much mana I could channel into a single rune and keep my veins stable. With this, though, I could push straight past that limit. Last time, my arms were practically charred from forcing 25 mana into one lightning spell; with this, I could go well beyond. Just the thought of putting all 50 mana into a single lightning strike sent a shiver down my spine.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Honestly, I didn¡¯t care if it might scorch my veins all over again¡ªthe main thing was, I¡¯d be breaking my limits. This upgrade was utterly absurd in its power.


    Best part? It looked like a passive effect that stuck around for every spell stage I learned, meaning I could push past my limits for any cast. Basically, I¡¯d be firing off nukes, ending things before they even started.


    A spark flickered in my claws. Yep, this was the one. There was no competition. Mana Conduit Resilience it was, and I selected it without another thought. The familiar sting tore through me, the kind that told me those pathways were toughening up good. And the grin? Oh, it was fixed in place.


    I was becoming formidable, and there wasn¡¯t a word for how satisfying that felt.


    ***


    "And then I wagged my tail at it! Proper grand sway, mind you¡ªand the daft thing bit again!" I recounted with all the dramatic flair I could muster, practically waving my tail at Lotte. She was cackling like a loon in my head, her great, snakey mug stoic as a rock but her tone as warm as a cuppa. Oh, she always found my tales amusing; even the mundane bits made her chortle. And now, with me stirring up such delightful mayhem, she could hardly keep her mirth contained, which nearly had me cracking up mid-story.


    "So, in the end, I just legged it. Exhilarating. Humans are all warned against damaging their mana veins, since some wounds might never heal unless they¡¯ve got a high-core healer handy. But me? I can push my veins to their limit, even burn them out. Only downside¡¯s the pain, but I¡¯ve been mutating long enough that scorched mana veins feel almost ¡­sweet by comparison."


    Lotte¡¯s voice took on a suspicious note. "Are you certain it isn¡¯t that you find this ¡®sweetness¡¯... peculiarly appealing?"


    I had to stifle a snort, keeping my poker face in place, eyes wide and innocent. "Oh, please. You think I¡¯m some kind of pain junkie?" I sniffed in exaggerated disdain. "I''m simply adaptable."


    "Adaptable, yes¡­¡± She gave a long, amused sigh in my mind. ¡°Jade, I just observed you explaining how you ignited your mana veins like a spectacle and then traipsed about as though you¡¯d uncovered some delightful indulgence.¡±


    I groaned with mock exasperation, throwing my tail up dramatically. ¡°I just enjoyed the aftermath! All the chaos it stirred up, that¡¯s it. And for the record, it was definitely painful. Plus, it was for a noble cause¡ªstopping those snooty tree-huggers!¡± I huffed. ¡°Besides, next time, I¡¯ll mostly keep my mana veins intact... if possible.¡±


    She chuckled dryly, "Mostly intact? Well, you¡¯re a model of restraint, Jade. I''m sure that''ll catch on."


    "Oi!" I shot back, unrepentant. ¡°Maybe some of us like a bit of fun, hmm? Even you could do with a pinch of spice, Miss High-and-Mighty Dragon.¡±


    She scoffed. ¡°If you believe I require a little ¡®spice,¡¯ perhaps I¡¯m long overdue for a rampage of my own¡­¡±


    That made my eyes widen; the thought of her on a rampage was equally terrifying and¡­ spine-tingling. A shiver of pleasure ran through me, though I recovered quickly as her chuckle echoed in my head. I remembered all too well what she''d first said about me when I¡¯d started changing¡­


    She''d once called me a creature of sinister nature, as if there were parts of me far too wild to be fully tamed. No matter how hard I tried to rein it in, there were certain¡­ inclinations¡ªlike the pleasure I took in watching things burn, in the beauty of sheer destruction. And oh, it was most pleasing. Words couldn''t capture it. Sometimes I''d even catch myself analyzing my own mind, wondering why I felt so at peace with such impulses. Yet I''d come up empty every time. This was simply me, my true self. Didn''t mean I''d ever go on some mindless rampage, of course¡ªI had enough self-control and intelligence for that.


    So when Lotte mentioned her own potential for chaos, I clutched my chest with mock horror. "Lotte! Imagine the scandal¡ªthe noble, elegant dragon going on a spree! What would the people say?"


    She burst out laughing, and I couldn''t help but join her. But before I got sidetracked, I steered us back to something I was curious about: runes. I knew she wouldn¡¯t just give me a straight answer, but it was worth a shot. I explained how, despite grasping a spell¡¯s runes better, I still couldn¡¯t impose my understanding on them. I was missing something, and I hadn¡¯t the foggiest what.


    Her tone shifted, and she took on that maddening, wise-teacher air¡ªthe one that flirts around the answer without actually giving it. ¡°Sometimes, a path demands self-discovery. It always begins with a foundational question: how harmoniously do your mind and body resonate with your affinity? It appears your mind grasps the nature of lightning. But can you confidently say the same for your body?¡±


    ¡°Er¡­ maybe?¡± I scratched my head, stumped. ¡°How do I make my body understand how lightning works if it just¡­ doesn¡¯t?¡±


    Lotte chuckled, smug as you please. ¡°I have no doubt you¡¯ll work it out.¡±


    Lotte¡¯s maddening, cryptic nature was enough to make anyone irate, and I was no exception. She was an infuriating teacher. Yet, despite myself, I¡¯d caught a glimpse of what I¡¯d been missing, and¡ªmuch as I hated to admit it¡ªmy blood was humming with the thrill of a challenge. Oh, I did love a good challenge! Huffing at her, I declared, ¡°Fine then, keep your secrets. But next time, my body¡¯s going to be sparking like a natural.¡± I¡¯d probably regret saying that, but I wasn¡¯t about to back down this time!


    Lotte¡¯s laughter only deepened. ¡°Oh, we shall see. I suspect, however, that runes are far from the only matter occupying your thoughts.¡±


    ¡°Ah, right¡­ about these techniques.¡± I¡¯d been leaning towards fusing my skills, but a nod from her would be all the approval I needed. Hopefully, she''d finally give me a straight answer.


    She did approve¡ªalthough, predictably, with a cautionary note. ¡°Bear in mind, you¡¯ll only be able to hold a single technique slot at the moment. The system¡¯s analyzed your fighting tendencies and given a recommendation, one that will define your style. While future evolutions might grant an additional slot, techniques are powerful precisely because of their focus. As a technique advances, you can incorporate more skills into it.¡±


    ¡°Ah, got it¡ªrather like a path, then. Comes with its own limits.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Though more techniques may open to you later, I¡¯d advise investing thoroughly in one for now. Does this option resonate with you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, definitely. Staying hidden? That¡¯s right up my alley! This technique would crank my fighting style to the max. And it fits, doesn¡¯t it? You said no one should know I¡¯m a dragon, so this would keep me under wraps and let me be a sneaky menace. Perfect!¡± I grinned.


    ¡°Then proceed,¡± Lotte intoned simply.


    Just as I was about to celebrate, I noticed her eyes glaze over, only to snap back with sudden clarity. ¡°I realize you have more questions, but you must awaken. Now.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°There are several threads around you... each one turning red.¡±


    OH BLOODY HELL!

 Chapter 75: Cornered

    The moment I jolted awake, I knew precisely what needed doing. Snatched up that scrappy little bag I¡¯d whipped together earlier, stashed with my precious monster cores. Then I shook awake my nook-mate Badger. Poor thing seemed to sense something was off¡ªperhaps from my frenzied movements or the tension radiating off me. I spread my Air Sense in a 20-meter ring, but all I picked up were a few stray beasts, nothing more.


    Lotte¡¯s sudden warning was enough to make my skin crawl. Danger was looming, and I had a strong inkling about who was behind it. Bloody divinators. Sod it all¡ªwhat fresh hell had they dragged me into now?


    If it truly were those lot, then that meant a target was likely pinned on my back. How they¡¯d track me, I couldn¡¯t be sure, but they surely would. For the moment, I sensed nothing immediate. But ¡°prepare¡± I must, and in this case, that meant only one thing: pulling up my stats screen. It was high time to fuse these skills and unlock a proper technique.


    I confirmed the system prompt to begin the fusion, and no sooner had I done so than I felt an odd tingle take root in my mind. A rush of knowledge began seeping through me, steady and sure, feeding my body the knowledge of a stance. Muscles tightened, anticipation heightened, but I kept my Air Sense on high alert.


    And that¡¯s when I noticed something amiss. Monsters loitering at the edge of my radius were¡­vanishing. As if something were devouring them whole. One, two, three, disappearing from every direction. Either that or¡ªThalador help me¡ªmy hunters had arrived. I pushed my Air Sense to its limit, but even then, couldn¡¯t make out their shapes. Another beast dropped, and my gut twisted. I had to flee. They must be using stealth magic, hiding their presence from me. And evidently, these people were prepared, likely even aware of my Air Sense.


    Skill fusion was still in process, that steady trickle of knowledge weaving through me, but for the first time, I felt true danger. I glanced at Badger. If they were slaughtering every creature nearby, then she might be next. I motioned for her to stay put and gently slipped her into the bag of monster cores. No way I¡¯d let them harm her. She was, after all, my very first friend down here. I tightened the bag around me as she peeked out, eyes anxious, and gave her a reassuring nod. My slitted gaze narrowed, and I slid out of the nook.


    Flying was an option, sure, but it would make me an easy target. I couldn¡¯t fly half as fast as I could leg it. And with Lotte¡¯s warning about multiple threats, there were bound to be mages or rangers among them. If they already knew about my Air Sense, who¡¯s to say they weren¡¯t equally prepared for flight?


    I scanned my surroundings, my heightened senses painting everything in vivid hues. My mind raced, even as that cool, steady rush of knowledge settled into my bones. How much longer would this fusion take?


    Right then¡ªI couldn¡¯t sit around waiting. I was surrounded, no doubt. All right, just pick one direction and leg it. Yes, that¡¯s the plan!


    I picked a direction at random and strode off, confident I''d inevitably run into someone. Whoever they were, they¡¯d somehow slipped under the radar of my Air Sense¡ªdoing Thalador knows what¡ªso I kept every other sense on high alert. My hues let me see with vivid, perfect clarity, and it wasn¡¯t long before a yell tore through the underbrush. I caught sight of him just before he burst into view, sword in hand. A mission notification flashed in my periphery; dismissed it at once. I had bigger fish to fry.


    An elf, tall and brawny, his sword lifted with menacing purpose. The moment he locked eyes with me, he growled something, voice gruff and ready to spring. His stance was rock-solid, low to the ground, poised to counter. And, quicker than I could blink, he surged forward. I dodged to the side in a flash, but that blasted sword of his followed me with such precision that I had to abruptly halt, momentum be damned. A gash appeared on my side, and, to make matters worse, it was starting to freeze.


    A warning rumble escaped my throat. This wasn¡¯t your run-of-the-mill prey or some woodland fiend. No, this one had seen his share of battles, a proper monster-slayer and likely yellow core, judging by his no-nonsense approach to killing me.


    I moved; his sword moved. I dashed; the sword dashed with me. He wasn¡¯t just reacting; he was reading my moves, probably with a dash technique of his own. No way to slip from his grasp.


    So I changed tack. Escaped escaping, as it were.


    Just as his sword cut through the air again, I lunged, claws out and thrumming with stamina, straight for his guard. He didn¡¯t so much as flinch, deflecting with the flat of his blade, sending a clang ringing through the air, sparks flying. My follow-up attack echoed in the empty space.


    With a flicker of thought, I pumped four mana into my fire gland. My sights were on his neck, and a torrent of flame burst forth. He dodged. My chance. I tried to weave around him, but there he was again, always a step ahead, blade glinting as he swung at my side. I ducked, dashed back, barely slipping out of reach of the arc. Another gout of flame from me; another dodge from him. I tried to take advantage of his off-balance stance, lashing out with my tail, which sliced past his arm but only left a shallow mark. He didn¡¯t even blink.


    Then it came, a rumbling underfoot¡ªa sign that this warrior wasn¡¯t my only problem. I knew well enough these bastards hunted in packs. And just as I feared, his teammate had arrived. A robed figure appeared, arcane runes swirling in a circular matrix, forming a continuous spell. This wasn¡¯t good. I needed to run. Needed to bolt. Otherwise, I¡¯d be done for.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Think, Jade, THINK!


    The faint tug of unformed knowledge was there, taunting me. Thalador¡¯s grace, how much longer till these blasted skills merged and that technique took hold? Time wasn¡¯t on my side. I considered Roaring to stun them, maybe buy a moment¡¯s breath, but it would leave me too exposed. No chance for that. Another slice, another dodge. The ground buckled as an earthen wall sprang up before me. Just caught a glimpse of the mage¡ªmy hackles rose. Right, if I couldn¡¯t get past the warrior, I¡¯d take a shot at his friend.


    I darted to the side, claws at the ready, angled straight for the mage. But another wall shot up, and I¡¯d been expecting that. Wings flared, I leapt clean over it, claws thrumming with stamina as I hurtled down. Only to smack against a barrier. Bloody Thalador, what was it with these Elves and their bloody shielding enchantments? But just as I was cursing, I knew I¡¯d made a fatal error.


    Another warrior had slipped behind the mage and was already closing in. His sword swung before my paws even touched the ground. I lashed out with my claws, sparks crackling as metal met them¡ªbut the warrior was relentless, driving a knee squarely into my hindquarters. And there I went, launched like a ragdoll, air slammed from my lungs as I hurtled backwards. I thudded against a tree, the impact jarring, but not enough to knock me out. I still had sense enough to roll, dashing just in time to avoid two gleaming swords.


    Earthen walls sprang up around me, their plan becoming all too clear: box me in, corner me for capture. That¡¯s why they were being so bloody careful. Maybe they¡¯d wound me, weaken me, but not one strike aimed at anything vital. No, they were targeting my legs, doing their best to rob me of my mobility, one swipe at a time.


    The first warrior came at me again, his blade glinting with an icy blue edge. I¡­ was losing here, and the picture of it sparked a fierce, simmering rage. If this was how it went, I¡¯d make sure to take one of these smug bastards down with me. I dropped low, claws scraping against the packed earth as I lunged forward, aiming right for his exposed knee. But he stepped back with infuriating ease, redirecting my strike with a flick that nearly threw me off balance.


    Then came a tremor¡ªa stone spike burst from the ground behind me. I twisted, slicing through it with a sharp swipe before diving sideways as more spikes erupted in my wake.


    More dashes. The second warrior joined in.


    The mage wasn¡¯t letting up either, shifting the earth to herd me right into the first warrior¡¯s line of attack. And the second one, no doubt, was there to cut off any chance of escape. They knew my dashes, my flight, my claws, even my Air Senses¡ªthe divinators weren¡¯t to be trifled with.


    The first elf lunged again, his sword slicing toward my legs. I twisted, his blade missing by a hair, but he was relentless. A second swing followed, aimed right at my shoulder. I dodged sideways, the tight space and crowded walls making every move riskier, every dodge closer.


    The mage raised his hands again, shifting the ground as if he¡¯d puppeteered it his whole life. Every dash was draining my stamina now, down to the 60s. No time to waste. I lunged straight at the sword-wielder, claws out. He didn¡¯t flinch, bracing himself, grip steady for the clash. But I feinted left, then struck right, catching him just off guard enough to rake my claws across his forearm. He hissed, but the cut barely scratched him.


    His blade lashed out in a tight arc¡ªI ducked, but not quickly enough. The edge nicked my scales. I tried to fall back, but my shoulder hit solid stone. No space to breathe. They had me cornered. And before I could blink, the ground beneath me pulsed with life as a net of glowing gold surged up, encasing me completely.


    A strange calm settled over me, the steady rush of technique¡¯s knowledge finally sinking into my bones. My slitted eyes narrowed on the smug warrior standing before me, his smug smile twisting my insides.


    Just you fucking wait.


    [Mission Accepted]


    I¡¯d wipe that smug, cocky grin off his insufferable face.


    ***


    Carel sometimes loathed this place¡ªhonestly, bioluminescent trees, shadows dancing with every whisper of wind. Utterly eerie. His team moved in hushed precision, each footstep cushioned by layers of fallen leaves and moss.


    Soril was just ahead, staff gripped tight, her spell matrix already primed, while Lira trailed behind. Their movements were fluid; a year of training at the Delver¡¯s Guild had ingrained it into them¡ªwatchful eyes, ears tuned to every twitch and rustle.


    Ahead stood a figure, the lone divinator of the camp, standing still as stone in his illusionary cover. Carel was still incredulous someone¡¯d managed to hire an actual divinator for half the mission¡¯s reward. Reasonable enough, given divination was a pricey and perilous path. There were far cushier gigs than spelunking with dungeon-delvers, but hey, who was he to judge? He¡¯d once had a stash, too.


    Now, thanks to Soril¡¯s spell, Carel could see through the divinator¡¯s mirage¡ªand there he was, totally oblivious to their approach. Carel leaned toward Soril with a smirk.


    "Really, Soril, care to remind me whose genius idea it was to miss our chance with the only divinator in camp?¡±


    Soril shot him a glare, giving his nose a flick. ¡°I¡¯d say it was the one distracted arguing over the handlers¡¯ reward scheme, Carel.¡±


    Carel feigned offense. ¡°Oh, please. If we¡¯re blaming distractions, let¡¯s point fingers at the one who thought she¡¯d ¡®charm¡¯ our way to the front of the line. Lira?¡±


    Lira, deftly skirting a thorn bush, stifled a grin, which looked undeniably odd on someone her size. ¡°Diplomacy, Carel, is what it¡¯s called. Not my fault the other team had more ¡®charm¡¯ jingling in their pouches.¡±


    ¡°Diplomacy,¡± Carel scoffed, nodding at the divinator ahead. ¡°Sure, that¡¯s what they call it in the capital. Out here? Losing an asset.¡±


    The divinator was a wiry sort, swathed in white robes, a glinting blue orb orbiting him like some celestial body. He¡¯d probably already pointed the earlier team straight to the creature¡¯s lair, maybe even rattled off tips on its powers and counters. Handy. Too bad they hadn¡¯t snagged him first.


    Lira gave a casual shrug, her eyes locked on the figure ahead. ¡°If we¡¯d gotten him first, we¡¯d be splitting the rewards. This way, we stay clean, scoop all the loot, and skip the lecture on ¡®team dynamics.¡¯¡±


    Soril glared, ducking under a low branch. ¡°And if they actually capture it? You¡¯d walk away empty-handed?¡±


    Lira glanced back at them, her grin widening. ¡°You think I¡¯d leave spoils? We¡¯re here for insurance.¡±


    Carel stifled a chuckle. Sure, they¡¯d missed the divinator, and now only one path remained. He had no clue which team had hired him, but if it was one of the rookie squads who flooded these kinds of contracts, well¡­they might just nab the beast themselves. A bit of intimidation¡ªor, if necessary, a well-placed ¡°misunderstanding¡±¡ªand they¡¯d be waltzing off with that prize solo. No divinator, no split.


    They waited in silence, ears pricked, and before long, faint laughter echoed through the trees. The divinator¡¯s face brightened as he drifted toward the sound. They hadn¡¯t needed to wait long at all.

 Chapter 76: A Bruised Ego

    Hunting monsters down here had its gold-plated rules, top of the list: expect the unexpected and know that any scrap of ¡°truth¡± you hold is likely the tip of an iceberg. Never, ever let your guard down¡ªeven if you''ve taken down 99 out of 100 beasts, it¡¯s that one time you slip that a monster will be right there, eager to remind you why that¡¯s the only number that counts.


    Now, the lower-tier creatures? Sure, you could outwit a few¡ªsometimes even bait them into their own traps if they were dim enough. But every so often, you¡¯d stumble on a sharp one, a beast with just enough cunning to flip the game when you thought you had the upper hand.


    Carel knew this far too well. The Delver¡¯s Guild had drilled it into his bones with training that left no space for errors. His father, in the handful of lessons he¡¯d managed to share before he was gone, had hammered it home too.


    So, when Carel spotted the tall, scruffy elf emerging from the trees, bearded and laughing with an all-too-easy familiarity as his team filed in, Carel recognized him in an instant. And he knew another golden rule: a few were exceptions to all the rest. Those were the prodigies, late bloomers who''d traded past pursuits for the thrill of delving, advancing their cores at breakneck speed. As for their skills, teamwork, instincts? The odds of a monster getting the jump on them were slimmer than slim.


    Tharen and his crew were cut from that cloth. Carel had heard the stories: Tharen, once a captain of the City Guard in border town of Vakaris and the governor¡¯s enforcer, had left that life behind after a scandal involving corruption at the top. He¡¯d walked out, joined the Delver¡¯s Guild, and wasted no time rising through the ranks. It wasn¡¯t just Tharen, though; his team¡ªall as rare as they came¡ªhad shown up already at the peak of the grey core, and in no time had surged ahead, sitting comfortably at mid-yellow. Carel felt a twinge of jealousy, a smolder of envy.


    But he wasn¡¯t a fool. As meteoric as their rise was, there was always more to the story, and Tharen¡¯s ¡°justice-seeker¡± reputation was only one side of the coin. Carel had heard the rumors, and he knew¡ªno further evidence needed¡ªthat it was time to cut his losses and get the hell out.


    Before Carel could even think of slipping off, Tharen¡¯s gaze locked onto him¡ªsharp and sudden, like a hawk on a field mouse. A wide grin broke across Tharen¡¯s face as he threw a casual wave, though Carel felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Stars above¡ªwhat sort of mid-yellow core had perception that sharp? He caught Soril and Lira exchanging wary glances, and with a quiet nod, they all stepped forward. Too late to back out now without giving offense.


    ¡°Carel! Out for a bit of sport?¡± Tharen¡¯s voice was warm, maybe too warm. His boot, meanwhile, tapped idly against the side of a beast ensnared in a gold-etched, shimmering metallic vines¡ªa high-end enchantment, no cut-rate kit. Carel squinted at the creature inside. It matched the poster¡¯s description, but its edges wavered in shadowy haze, giving its long limbs, spindly neck, and whip-like tail an almost ghostly shimmer. It looked smaller than expected, and Carel stifled an inward groan. If only they hadn¡¯t missed the divinator; this would¡¯ve been a breeze.


    ¡°Some kind of familiar, drenched in distortion magic,¡± Tharen added with a smirk, catching Carel¡¯s stare. He sent a kick straight into its exposed chest, the crack echoing in Carel¡¯s ears. ¡°Crafty little beast,¡± Tharen sneered. ¡°Would¡¯ve been a fun fight, though capturing¡¯s not my usual sport.¡±


    Two more kicks, each more vicious than the last, made Carel¡¯s stomach twist. Tharen¡¯s grin showed he was enjoying it far too much, savoring every blow. And then he turned to Carel with that same easy grin, as if he hadn¡¯t just stomped all over the creature¡¯s dignity.


    ¡°Good to see more folks out here,¡± he said, almost friendly. ¡°These creatures are a damned scourge, tame or not. Would¡¯ve rather ended it.¡± He punctuated the thought with another brutal kick. Despite its small size, the creature glared at him, fierce red, slitted eyes practically ablaze with defiance. Carel felt a flicker of fear¡ªthere was a ferocity in its stare that made him question just how ¡°tamed¡± it really was.


    ¡°Thinks it¡¯s clever, does it?¡± Tharen snarled, grinding his heel into the creature¡¯s side. ¡°Tried to make the most of my mercy for letting it live. Looks like it didn¡¯t appreciate the favor.¡± Another disdainful kick. ¡°What¡¯re you staring at, you little pest?¡±


    Beside Carel, the divinator shifted uncomfortably, apparently aware it was time to intervene before Tharen went too far¡ªno handler would pay full price for a battered creature.


    ¡°Uh, maybe go easy there, Tharen,¡± the divinator said, voice as smooth as he could manage. ¡°Unless you¡¯re hoping for a pay cut on account of a broken product?¡±


    Tharen threw him a look, his irritation briefly flaring before he chuckled. ¡°A pay cut? Please. They should be giving me a bonus for teaching this thing some respect.¡±


    The robed mage chimed in with a grin, ¡°Careful, Tharen. If that cage slips up, looks like it¡¯s got a score to settle with you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, let it try,¡± Tharen scoffed, landing one last jab to the beast¡¯s side, though less brutal this time. ¡°Better it serves our own here than running wild, tearing up the land,¡± he added, his tone suddenly warm as he leaned on his sword, eyeing the caged creature with that predator¡¯s glint. ¡°At least this way, they¡¯re useful. Won¡¯t just go to waste in the wild, feasting on anything that moves.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Carel offered a faint, skeptical smile. This guy was a piece of work¡ªclearly bruised by the creature¡¯s little act of defiance and now taking his wounded pride out on it. ¡°Efficient, I guess,¡± he said, ¡°And¡­ less mess.¡±


    Tharen laughed, deep and hearty. ¡°Exactly! And to think, I used to dream about hunting them to the last, wiping them out to see the forest free of the things. But here we are, in a place that¡¯s practically a breeding ground for them.¡± He looked back at Carel with a fierce gleam. ¡°What about you, Carel? How do you feel about the dungeon?¡±


    Carel hesitated, as if his answer might actually matter to this bastard. ¡°Well¡­ hunting monsters makes us stronger, and we rely on the resources we get from these dungeons. Not sure many would welcome seeing these pits vanish, no matter the risk,¡± he replied, carefully choosing his words.


    Tharen seemed satisfied, giving Carel a nod. But the mage beside him nudged him forward. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get moving. Might actually snag another mission if we don¡¯t loiter.¡±


    Tharen groaned but shot Carel¡¯s team a warm grin. ¡°As much as I¡¯d rather stick to straight-up hunts, coin has this pesky way of deciding my priorities.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Good luck with whatever sneaky vermin you¡¯re after! Show it that clever doesn¡¯t count for much.¡± He tossed a final glare at the caged creature, still a bit sore.


    Carel nodded, and just like that, Tharen¡¯s group moved off. Carel let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding.


    ¡°What now?¡± Soril grumbled as Tharen and the mage¡¯s shapes faded into the trees.


    ¡°Nothing!¡± Carel huffed, glancing back in the direction of Tharen¡¯s gang, then turning towards the camp. Lira and Soril followed, no questions asked. ¡°Let¡¯s get back and pick a new mission. This contract¡¯s been a disaster since the start. Three missions, three dead-ends. And still empty-handed.¡±


    Soril snorted, adjusting her staff as she refreshed a spell. ¡°Maybe if we hadn¡¯t chased unknown monsters each time. We were flying blind on all three hunts.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I adored every second,¡± Lira drawled, tone dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Chasing after a target that¡¯s always a step ahead and still sidestepping random attacks? My idea of paradise.¡±


    ¡°Could¡¯ve been worse,¡± Carel shrugged. ¡°We could¡¯ve been stuck with Tharen the whole time.¡±


    Lira laughed. ¡°Fair point. That guy gives ¡®team morale¡¯ a whole new meaning. I think the creature¡¯s the one who outsmarted him.¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± Soril agreed. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan for later? Less... wild goose chasing?¡±


    Carel sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s go with something familiar. Hunt the monsters we know, ones we¡¯ve tackled before. Coin is low but better than a whole load of nothing.¡±


    ¡°Back to basics, then. I can live with that,¡± Lira grinned.


    ¡°Great,¡± Soril muttered. ¡°Because if we¡¯re chasing shadows again, I¡¯ll probably turn into the next monster on the bounty list.¡±


    Carel scoffed, still a bit down but glad for Soril and Lira¡¯s company. His gaze stayed sharp, aware they were still in a dungeon. Their chatter continued until they saw the camp just downhill¡ªalong with Tharen¡¯s team descending toward it.


    Almost pitied that caged creature, though. Probably belonged to some high-core pathwalker, and heaven forbid if they came looking to reclaim it. If anything, the handlers should get a taste of their justice. And Tharen, maybe.


    He half-smirked, amused by the thought of the beast getting loose right in Tharen¡¯s face¡ªwait.


    Carel froze, his expression shifting from mirth to horror. Lira and Soril, catching his look, exchanged glances and asked what was wrong. He simply pointed at Tharen¡¯s crew and the gold cage where the creature had been ensnared moments earlier.


    It was empty. And Tharen¡¯s team hadn¡¯t noticed.


    ***


    A tall figure floated near the cavern¡¯s vaulted ceiling, draped in a gown of deep, blood-red satin and resting lightly on an ornate cane. Below her, the forest shimmered in a spellbinding glow¡ªa veritable ocean of bioluminescent light. But beneath that gleaming blanket, there lay... something. Something thoroughly magnificent. Something that had held her in rapture for as long as she could recall.


    Ah, those ever-flickering hues. Dancing just at the edge of her perception, taunting her with a coy flash here, a tease of a glimmer there¡ªonly to vanish the moment she sought to pin them down.


    Oh, they did love their little games. And how she relished playing along.


    Far below, the forest dwellers scurried about like busy ants. The sheer intricacy of their comings and goings would twist a mortal¡¯s mind into knots, but not hers. No, she drank in every nuance, every skitter and scuffle, every ripple of life. There¡ªa hunt on the eastern fringe. Predators stalking prey, tusked giants rustling through the underbrush, and winged serpents circling the canopies like spectres. A world thrumming with tooth and claw.


    Yet, one particular spectacle caught her attention.


    There it was: a bound beast, her pride as bruised as her hide. And there, her captor¡ªa strutting lout of an elf, preening as if his feeble victory meant a jot. A flicker of wrath ignited within her¡ªa fiery outrage that this pest would dare bind something so sacred, even go so far as to plant his grimy boots upon it. The flame was swiftly quelled, snuffed out like a spent candle. Emotions were little more than passing amusements for her. Her one constant? The hunt for pleasure, unending and undeniable.


    A screen materialised before her, glowing softly in a spectral blue. A mission prompt.


    She cast it a mere sidelong glance before her attention drifted back to the dragonling. Poor creature, with pride as wounded as her body. Oh, how tempting it was to descend and peel apart her captors, one sinew at a time. But, as it happened, she likely wouldn¡¯t have to lift a claw. A smirk played at the edges of her lips. Her slitted eyes narrowed as the scales along her spine undulated in a wave of satisfaction. Her time would come when it was ripe.


    But no, not now. Who was she to intrude upon the sacred theatre of a dragonling¡¯s retribution? For now, she¡¯d be quite content to observe.


    [Mission Declined]


    Her gaze drifted toward a distant cave, where foul Elven wretches were once more dabbling in things both forbidden and foolish. She made no move to stop them. Her forked tongue flickered out, wetting her fangs in anticipation. Ah, perhaps there¡¯d soon be something potent enough for a proper meal.

 Chapter 77: A Dragonlings Retribution

    Ah, there¡¯s a certain quaintness to pain, isn¡¯t there? The way it creeps into your mind, settles in like an unwelcome guest. But here¡¯s the rub ¡ª reach a certain threshold, and it starts to dull, droning away in the background like a distant hum.


    Perhaps because one has sunk to depths of pain so abysmal, it outstretches even the gloomiest imaginings. Now, I¡¯ve always wondered why monsters ¡ª those unsparing creatures ¡ª seem so unaffected by the sting of it all. Turns out, the answer¡¯s plain. I¡¯ve felt it too, just like every other monster. In every skirmish, every bout of mutation. We¡¯re all so familiar with suffering that when agony sidles up, it hardly breaks our stride.


    And that stride? Oh, it¡¯s always a vicious one. Rather like mine, in this very moment. Now, I¡¯d my doubts about whether my technique¡¯s phase would let me slip through this oddly enchanted cage they thought suitable for the likes of me. But as it happens, there was no need for worry ¡ª I ghosted right past it, so seamlessly that not one of them noticed, wrapped up as they were in their own chatter and merriment.


    My skills were already fused by the time this Tharen guy and his crew managed to catch me. But I¡¯d clocked they had some sort of divinator guiding them. Couldn¡¯t let my ace slip out of the bag then, could I? Finally got eyes on the one I reckoned was the divinator, and that little hunch was confirmed quick enough. Heard enough of their chatter to make it plain as day.


    Then, of course, things went and got complicated. More faces, more elves. Couldn¡¯t go charging in, not just yet. Escaping would be easy, if that was my aim. But did I want to? Not after all the humiliation these miserable scum had put me through. He had the nerve, the cheek to trample over me! Me?! That loathsome wretch DARED!


    I swallowed the fury simmering inside ¡ª a cool head, that¡¯s what I needed. Let them off easy? Not bloody likely. A coward, I was no longer. They¡¯d pay, every last one. And by Thalador, this Tharen will rue the day he thought to soil my scales with his filthy boots.


    Once I deemed we were nicely isolated, I activated my technique. I felt every sense tuned to its purpose, thrumming with a deeper knowledge. The essence of elusiveness, taken to its very extreme. A specter, an apparition. No cage could hold me, no wall could bar me.


    Even after becoming a monster and gaining magic, this technique was the first thing that gave me a true glimpse into the abyss of power.


    I let instinct guide me, and the cage was no more. My body sifted like sand, slipping through unseen.


    I stayed calm, focused. But first, there was stamina to monitor. My gaze flickered to my stats screen as my eyes adjusted, lenses shifting but still pinned on the Elven vermin. One point of stamina per three seconds ¡ª I¡¯d be able to hold this form for about 4.5 minutes.


    A plan settled in my mind as I stood there, watching these Elves, my slitted eyes narrowing with a quiet, simmering fury. First order of business ¡ª take out the blasted mage. One of them was bound to notice my absence soon enough, but not until I¡¯d put this little scheme into motion. Step one: make some distance. Four rapid dashes, and I¡¯d gained enough ground to avoid any detection of my mana buildup.


    The runes sparked to life, swirling as I poured mana in, skirting the edge of what my veins could take ¡ª no intention of overdoing it this time. But, of course, the mage¡¯s brow furrowed the second he felt it. Moments later, he was shouting, and the others spun around, eyes widening at my empty cage. But by now, I¡¯d nearly finished charging.


    The runes thrummed with a full twenty mana ¡ª eight, eight, and four into the triad. Potent, immensely so. This was a safe point. Raw mana alone was enough to make my spells four times stronger, forced by brute force.


    I set my sights on the mage, his eyes wide at the crackling runes hovering by my claws. ¡°LIGHTNING BOLT!¡± I roared, voice drowned by clap of thunder.


    He¡¯d come prepared, apparently; the staff in his hand triggered a wall of earth, leaping up to shield him from the bolt. Earth, of course, was no fan of lightning. But I¡¯d forced so much mana through, the bolt punched clean through the wall, then splintered through his barrier. The impact wasn¡¯t as deadly as I¡¯d hoped, but enough to knock him off his feet, sending him sprawling. Not quite finished, though. Tsk.


    I never thought this fight would be easy. But the cold, steady burn of fury driving me onward was plenty. The battle had begun.


    The moment they caught sight of me, it was Tharen who boiled over first, his face going crimson with fury. What, did he really believe sheer rage could best a bit of cleverness? I sneered, baring my fangs in a mocking grin. With no more delay, both warriors sprang into action¡ªTharen leading the charge, wielding that ice-wreathed blade of his, glistening with lethal sharpness. Certainly not something I fancied taking a hit from. And the seething anger on his face as he advanced suggested he¡¯d no qualms about breaking me to pieces this time.


    Yet, for all their bluster, they moved as one, closing the gap with eerie synchrony. I saw their strikes long before they reached me; my heightened perception charted every shift. One quick dash, and I phased through them, leaving their swings biting at empty air. If they were shocked, they hid it well. Their attacks came relentless, forcing me to stay nimble, dodging and weaving, while all the while I let my technique settle in, learning its rhythms and nuances. I darted left, then right, my form flickering, distortion rippling around me in a blur. But I couldn¡¯t afford to be reckless¡ªI needed to bide my time, feel out their next move.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The chill in the air thickened as ice mana surged around me, the temperature plummeting as they invoked their technique in earnest. Then, without warning, it struck. Each swing they¡¯d made seemed to coalesce, the very air around me filling with a cage of slicing, icy arcs.


    I sensed the slashes flaring in my perception just in time. No sense staying put, after all¡ªI was no caged beast. A single dash with perfect timing, and I slipped cleanly through the attack, though a nick on my hind leg bit at me like a paper cut. No matter. I zeroed in on the second Elven pest, his eyes widening as he realised I¡¯d escaped his frozen web. Too late.


    My claws lashed out, one poised for his torso while the other stayed ready as a feint, masked by the shimmering distortion around me. He raised his sword to block, but the movement was off, my strike slipping past his defense. He shrieked¡ªa glorious sound¡ªas my claws ripped through his leather armour, digging deep enough to draw a satisfying scream. But that was just the opening act. My Echo lashed out after, tearing through his ribcage. More screams, fervent and shrill, ringing out like music to my ears.


    ¡°YOU FOUL CREATURE!¡± Tharen¡¯s furious cry split the air, seething through the clearing.


    I had to dodge quick¡ªthese fellows weren¡¯t amateurs, and a follow-up attack would only leave me wide open. Tharen¡¯s blade was on me in a flash. My gaze darted between them, catching a glint of green as the other warrior downed a healing potion. Tch. Bloody cockroaches.


    In the background, the earth mage planted himself, likely chugging a potion of his own, now hurling volleys of stone shards and jagged earth spikes to funnel me right into Tharen¡¯s reach. But my senses were heightened well beyond the ordinary; each shard, every spike, I danced around them with ease, slipping through the tiniest gaps like water trickling through clenched fingers. Where gaps didn¡¯t exist, I phased right through, untouchable.


    Tharen lunged, his frosty blade cutting a deadly diagonal arc. I ducked low, feeling its frigid edge slice through the air just above my horns. In one swift motion, I sprung up, twisting to dodge a spike of earth that erupted exactly where I¡¯d been a heartbeat before. The other warrior, back on his feet and charging from the right, swung high, but I wove past, gliding through their assault like smoke through a keyhole.


    Seizing an opening, I struck out. My claws raked across his shoulder as I zipped by, the echo tearing into his armor, his shoulder sagging as he stumbled. The fury in his eyes flared as he steadied himself, another healing potion already in hand.


    The mage barked an incantation, and a stone ring shot up around me, blocking every exit. But I wasn¡¯t about to be boxed in. My stamina was ticking down fast¡ªless than a minute had passed, but all this dodging had been for naught. Phasing out was an option, but I knew I needed to change tactics. I had to slip out of sight, let the forest work its magic as my cover.


    I leapt skyward, wings unfurling just enough to lift me over the stone ring, then dove into a dense underbrush below. Tharen muttered something in Elven as they regrouped. I circled back, keeping low and out of the mage¡¯s line of sight. It was the second warrior who first spotted me, jabbing a finger in my direction. Tharen charged, though the mage hesitated, unsure where to aim. Perfect.


    I dodged Tharen¡¯s furious strikes, lunging for his legs. Everywhere he aimed to block, my claws found somewhere else to strike, slipping around his defences like a whisper of death.


    "Damn the coin¡ªyou¡¯re long past due for a dirt nap, YOU FILTHY BEAST!¡± He surged forward again, blade iced over, aiming straight for my chest. I sidestepped, quick as a blink, letting his own blind rage do the work for me. Oh, the sweet delight of fury and folly; his first blunder, courtesy of yours truly.


    With a flick of my tail, I hooked his ankle, sending him teetering. A fleeting wobble¡ªbut enough. My claws flashed across his torso, leaving a nice, neat line. His face contorted in agony, and the echo followed¡ªa ripping reverberation enough to coax a scream and a drop of his guard as he clasped at the wound, his ice-blade flickering like a candle in the wind. I seized the opportunity, aiming low at his belt where those ridiculous potions dangled. Tharen¡¯s eyes flared in panic as I shredded it; bottles spilled, smashed, and their precious contents mingled with the dirt. The echo slashed a deeper cut across his side, a taste of my good work.


    The mage wasn¡¯t daft, though. He flung his hand up, summoning a stony deluge to rain down. I darted, twisted mid-leap to evade the worst of it, though one shard clipped my wing, a shock of pain making me hiss. No matter¡ªI stayed locked in. Tharen was down, so it was high time I paid the others a visit. The mage and their divinator sidekick were up first. The divinator? Hardly a worry; battle wasn¡¯t his scene, poor sod. But letting him scarper? Not in the cards, I¡¯m afraid. I landed low, rolled up, and dashed forward, slipping under the second warrior¡¯s frosty swipe, straight at the mage. No Tharen to coddle him now.


    Four mana charged into my fire gland, ready to torch this hapless lot. Oh, the warrior¡¯s astonishment¡ª Couldn¡¯t quite fathom I could breathe fire as well, even after he¡¯d seen it! Simpletons. I aimed for his belt, naturally; those lovely healing elixirs needed warming up. No better way to ruin their day than turning them into a simmering mess.


    Another dash and I was on the mage. No shield to hide behind, just bare flesh waiting for a proper lesson. Claws clamped around his wrist, the staff dropped, and I didn¡¯t give him the chance to squeak before I buried my teeth in his throat. The divinator¡¯s scream came next, and as I turned, bloodied grin in place, I tore through him with a single bound.


    The second warrior wailed at the sight of his friends¡¯ demise. Before he knew it, I was upon him, momentum carrying my swipe into his torso. Flesh parted like ripe fruit, and an echo followed as his innards spilled. With a twisted smile, I added a ¡®kiss,¡¯ tearing his jaw from his face, his scream still hanging in the air.


    A swift jab to his throat and silence fell, blessedly final.


    Tharen, poor Tharen, seemed somewhat recovered now, frozen in horror at the grim display before him. A chuckle bubbled up in my throat, swelling into a full-bodied, gravelly laugh. Oh, the shock! The heartbreak! The absolute emptiness in his eyes.


    I scooped up his mate¡¯s corpse, took a nice bite from his ear, and spat. ¡°Ghastly taste, that. Suits the company, wouldn¡¯t you say, Mr. Tharen?¡±


    His face twisted, furious at first, then fell as realisation dawned. ¡°What? Never heard a beast speak so proper?¡±


    I had a few things to pry out of him before his visit to my digestive tract. He wouldn¡¯t tell me willingly, but never fear¡ªI¡¯ve always been rather skilled at drawing out confessions.

 Chapter 78: Sneaking In

    Notifications flashed in the corner of my vision as each of them fell, but I closed them with a thought, keeping my focus sharp on Tharen. His sword remained taut in his grip, his face still red with fury. For now, I let the technique fade, saving the stamina. But before I could speak, Tharen cut in, his voice raw with something beyond anger¡ªfear, perhaps. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ not a monster, are you?¡± His grip tightened on the sword.


    I tilted my head, feigning contemplation. ¡°Hmm,¡± I murmured, taking a leisurely step forward, relishing the way his posture tensed. ¡°If I¡¯m not a monster, then what am I, Mr. Tharen?¡±


    His jaw clenched and unclenched as he fumbled for words¡ªdisbelief? Hatred? ¡°Monsters¡­ they don¡¯t think like you, don¡¯t talk like you¡­¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± I mused, circling him with a slow, predatory gait. I was small, much smaller than him, no bigger than a large cat perhaps. Yet the shiver that seized him as I neared made my heart race all the more. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m just a clever monster. Or maybe¡­¡± I raised my head, voice dropping to a whisper that cut cleanly through the forest¡¯s hush. ¡°Monsters aren¡¯t as simple as you think.¡±


    But I had my own curiosities. ¡°Well then, to answer your question¡ªI¡¯m not really a monster.¡± I saw the way his eyes flickered; I knew they thought me as a familiar of some high-cored pathwalker? Why not play along? ¡°A bond,¡± I continued, ¡°sent by my master to meddle in whatever grand ritual these cultists are brewing, while she lingers, observing.¡± I shrugged, feigning disinterest. ¡°Gold cores do love their games, don¡¯t they?¡±


    The mere mention of ¡°gold core¡± had Tharen¡¯s shoulders drooping in resignation. ¡°Apologies, but you lot never stood a chance.¡± I shrugged again, as if brushing off a minor inconvenience. ¡°It may seem I¡¯m up against it, but trust me¡ªI doubt she¡¯d let me die so easily. Might be wrong about my value,¡± I said, throwing in another casual shrug, ¡°but eh, if she wants whatever they''re doing in that dungeon disrupted, who am I to argue?¡±


    Tharen stayed silent, his sword still raised, but I continued, as though I hadn¡¯t noticed. ¡°Didn¡¯t want it to come to this, you know,¡± I sighed, looking at his fallen friends. ¡°I trusted my master to mask me from divination, but it seems even that was too much.¡± I let a hint of regret color my tone, letting my gaze fall to the bodies around us. ¡°I know what you think of monsters, but I feel the same,¡± I lied, with a long-suffering sigh. ¡°They¡¯ve been like blasted mosquitoes, chasing me down, so I understand why you reacted as you did. Could have taken you all out here, of course, but truthfully, I had my sights on the divinator.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t softened, not by a long shot, but his sword hand twitched as he processed it all, his fury at his friends¡¯ deaths still simmering beneath the surface. Just as I prepared to push further, my air sense picked up the faint drift of approaching breaths. Ah yes, I¡¯d nearly forgotten those three. Time to wrap this up.


    ¡°So,¡± I said, my voice dropping to a businesslike tone. ¡°Answer a few questions for me, or join your friends. Don¡¯t mistake me, Tharen¡ªI¡¯ve no empathy for your lot, and you¡¯ve seen I don¡¯t hesitate. Who hired you, and what is it you¡¯re after in the dungeon?¡±


    Tharen¡¯s face twisted with fury, his sword trembling¡ªwhether at me or at my supposed gold-rank master, it was hard to say. It was enough, though, and I kept a sliver of focus on the three signatures lingering at the edge of my air sense, a good twenty meters away, likely plotting their next move. But Tharen spoke up first, his anger making his voice shake. ¡°What the hell do you think we all want here? Came for fucking coin! How were we to know we¡¯d stumbled into a gold rank¡¯s bad graces?¡±


    He scoffed, but his words tumbled on. ¡°Handlers didn¡¯t tell us a damn thing. Just said these people were trying to stop the waves and were hiring delvers for a good payout to clean out the dungeon. Contracts were shady, sure, but if they were stopping a wave, we weren¡¯t exactly questioning it. Besides, they¡¯ve got the House Valendris seal to back them up¡ªseemed official enough.¡±


    I bloody knew it. Those cultists had the backing of Lithrindel¡¯s nobles, clear as day, while these delvers¡ªwell, they weren¡¯t exactly at fault, were they? So I prodded with a few more pointed questions. Either he truly didn¡¯t know a damned thing, or whatever contract he¡¯d signed with those cultists had him gagged tighter than a banker¡¯s purse. Judging by his frustration, I¡¯d wager they hadn¡¯t bothered filling him in much anyway.


    All the while, I kept my air sense and shifting lenses primed, taking in every detail. Then, I caught a flicker¡ªhues shifting behind Tharen. Odd. He was still holding his sword, though one hand had slipped behind his back. He droned on, griping about the handlers as if that¡¯d win him sympathy. I kept my gait easy, pretending not to notice, but the way the hues had moved? Strange.


    Not that it mattered. I reactivated my technique, and he must¡¯ve known I wasn¡¯t letting him just walk off. He spilled only that the cultists had some ¡°special¡± tent pitched in the camp ahead, nothing else of value. He knew as much too, so when a round, badge-like trinket shot from his hand towards me, I was ready. Waited just a beat, timed it right, and dashed¡ªphasing clean through it. A moment later, it hit the ground behind me in a cracking blast of ice. I launched myself skyward, wings unfurling.


    And Tharen? Vanished, at least to the eyes. Breathing gave him away, though¡ªmust¡¯ve been some enchanted trinkets, one for the icy blast, another for the illusion cloaking him. Pity for him; hues avoided his spot entirely, marking his position all the clearer. He swung something down, and an arc of razor-sharp ice sliced through the air towards me. I dodged it with ease, but blimey, why hadn¡¯t he used it earlier? Ah¡ªfriendly fire, perhaps.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Didn¡¯t matter. Fire Gland charged, I released a stream of flames dead-on at his location. He let out a scream, and now I sensed other breath signatures edging into my Air Sense range, closing in fast. No time to linger. I lunged, claws out, landing squarely on the screeching Tharen, his face still smoking from the flames. His sword clattered as I tore into him, ending the struggle swiftly.


    Wasn¡¯t having second thoughts, mind you, though it seemed we¡¯d both begun with the same intent: test the other¡¯s limits. But by end, he knew a head-on fight with me was a losing game.


    The other elves were drawing nearer, and with my stamina waning, I couldn¡¯t dawdle. I darted off, putting as much distance between us as I could.


    ***


    After a bit of a trot, I stopped, snatched a deer-like beast and made a decent dinner of it, restoring my stamina to full and patching up my wounds¡ªthe ones I could feel, anyway: a likely snapped spine, a little tear in wing, and a few generous gashes that halfwit¡¯s blade. Oddly enough, none of it really seemed to slow me down.


    And then, I could finally turn my attention to those notifications I¡¯d been so artfully dodging.


    [You have slain an Elf - Level 37 Geomancer (IV)/Level 2 Crafter (II)]


    [You have slain an Elf - Level 32 Starcaller (IV)/Level 7 Enchanter (II)]


    [You have slain an Elf - Level 40 Frost Knight(V)/Level 12 Wraith Duelist (II)]


    [You have slain an Elf - Level 43 Frost Knight(V)/Level 17 Frost Hexer(II)]


    [Massive Experience Points acquired from defeating higher-level targets.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Skill point(s) obtained: +9.]


    [+1 Skill Point for each Elf killed.]


    [MISSION COMPLETE: Elf Eradication]


    [Objective Accomplished: All 4 Elves Killed.]


    [Total Reward: Rewards received: +10 Morphogen, +1 in all stats. Bonus reward for creative agony: mana core size slightly increased, +2 maximum mana.]


    Thalador¡¯s Beard! I just found myself staring at the screen, trying to take it all in. I¡¯d already grasped the mission and its rewards, but that maximum mana boost? That took me quite by surprise. Yet, there was one glaring thing that truly held my attention: the levels behind those Elves I¡¯d dispatched.


    My slitted eyes were wide, thoughts whirling more and more. I drew a steadying breath. I knew what had to be done and took a moment to dive into deep breathing. Not that I needed stamina, mind you, but it always helped me settle down. And in that calm, the pieces began to fit.


    First revelation: levels, and something¡­ familiar, echoing from dreams ¡ª ¡°classes.¡± Could these titles be classes, then? This only served to confirm it. Lotte had been right all along, perhaps still was. These Elves had a progression system strikingly similar to my own evolutionary paths. Just as I held the title of Voracious Manaweaver (III), they, too, advanced with names like Geomancer (IV) and Frost Knight (V), climbing through layers of some sequential system, much like mine.


    Yet here they were, advancing despite losing access to the system. Gaining experience by their own mysterious means, without so much as a hint of system guidance. Their growth reflected a semblance of advancement, but one without clear purpose or precision. The system was still nudging them, though, in its own subtle, passive way.


    Still, they felt a touch weaker than I might¡¯ve expected, though I¡¯m hardly the most impartial measure. Any other Stage 3 or 4 beast would¡¯ve fallen to them easily; I just happened to be an outlier. But for Tier 5? Perhaps they hadn¡¯t quite grasped how to fully harness their growth. Unlike me, with my tidy allocation of skill points and morphogens, these Elves, with no system to hand-hold, were left to stumble blindly, squandering resources left and right, no doubt.


    Now I understood what they meant by "path advancement" and bottlenecks. For me, the system took the hassle out of it all. But for them? Not so. I hadn¡¯t the faintest idea how paths worked for their kind, but there was a pattern here, and it made me question just how much I depended on the system. Even if it were just a facilitator, issuing quests and rewards to support my growth, I was still bound to it in more ways than one. I shook my head as my focus broke, stopped my deep breathing, and stood up.


    I realized I¡¯d gone on a right ramble. How much of it was true? Perhaps none of it. Yet, it must mean something. The system¡¯s disdain, calling them thieves of gifts, its thirst to watch them fall, eager to reward me for pushing them toward despair ¡ª all of it was tinged with bloodlust and something deeper. I hadn¡¯t a clue. Each revelation unraveled new questions, and I wasn¡¯t even sure I wanted the answers anymore. Each pursuit took me further from where I began, veering into the unknown.


    For the moment, I set it all aside, shimmied up the nearest tree, and took in the camp below with a hunter¡¯s eye. It sprawled through the forest like a quaint village, snugly nestled among the trees, with tent after tent pitched in neat, military rows, as if drawn by a meticulous hand. Mana lamps hung between them, casting a soft orange glow that barely brushed the surrounding shadows. A grand open space lay at the heart of it all, where Elves milled about, going about their business. Crude barricades lined the camp¡¯s perimeter, made of sharpened stakes and dense logs. Those masked warriors prowled the edge in pairs, footsteps quiet yet deliberate, their eyes sharp as hawks scouring the trees.


    Encircling the camp was a shimmering shield, faintly blue and thrumming with energy. Every now and again, some poor daft creature dared too close, maybe egged on by the system¡¯s promise of rewards. But any who ventured too near were dispatched with ruthless efficiency. Archers and mages, perched on watch, unleashed arrows or spells with practiced precision, a quick flash cutting through the air, and soon another beast lay sprawled in the dirt. Scavengers lurked in the undergrowth, quick to claim what was left behind.


    I slipped back down, swatting away yet another mission notification. Another system kill order ¡ª hardly tempting. The camp was packed with Elves, and I¡¯d scarcely begun to test the mettle of my new technique. No point getting cocky with survival hanging by a thread.


    I glanced back the way I¡¯d come. Part of me itched to retrieve the corpses, to see if a feast of Elven flesh would yield morphogens or if they had cores within their bodies as well. I¡¯d bolted too fast, head spinning, perhaps half-reluctant to feast on creatures that mirrored my own former form so eerily. That one ear I¡¯d tasted? Scarcely a snack, let alone enough to gauge their flavour or strength. A dark curiosity gnawed at me all the same.


    And as for cores ¡ª I¡¯d left my bag of them behind, along with my badger friend when the delvers had snatched me. I could only hope she¡¯d slunk away unseen, dodging both predators and prying eyes.


    But enough mulling. My focus swung back to the camp, and more to the point, that one special tent where the cultists stayed. If any monster could slip in and catch them at their tricks, well ¡ª it was me.

 Chapter 79: Phasing Through

    For a good while, I prowled around the camp¡¯s edge, cloaked in shadows, taking in every detail. A few tidbits emerged. First off, there were two separate patrol teams, alongside mages and archers stationed at predictable corners, all clearly affiliated with the cult, thanks to those peculiar masks they wore. The delvers, in contrast, were easy to spot in their less formal garb and functional armour.


    One unsettling discovery followed: it seemed I was in far deeper trouble than I¡¯d initially thought. Those three Elves from before had reached the spot where I¡¯d dispatched their comrades and dragged the corpses back to camp. Comrades, or perhaps something less chummy¡ªthe fellow named Carel looked awfully stiff when confronting Tharen. Bit of bad blood there, I¡¯d wager. But history aside, the spotlight of danger had decidedly shifted to yours truly.


    Watching the Elves haul those half-shredded bodies through the camp, I knew they¡¯d be using them for divination. With that, I was well and truly in the crosshairs. I lingered under the bioluminescent canopy, muttering curses under my breath. Luck? More like fate¡¯s twisted sense of humour, it seemed.


    Then my gaze fell upon the blue barrier around the camp¡ªtricky business, that. I needed to test one last thing: would my technique let me phase through the barrier? It wasn¡¯t particularly thick, and there was nothing in my skill¡¯s description saying it couldn¡¯t handle a magical construct, only that it struggled with dense materials. I¡¯d already tried trees with no success; anything thicker than a few centimetres had me bouncing off like a fool. Perhaps, in time, I¡¯d build up the skill to phase through more substantial obstacles.


    Another detail noted¡ªmy stamina took a hit each time I phased, costing an extra 3 points on top of the usual expenditure to maintain the stance. Altogether, quite the drain on resources.


    I threw one last glance at the barrier, then retreated a few paces. Best to get prepared, I thought, and summoned my stat screen.


    Name: Jade


    Level: 15


    Species: Voracious Manaweaver (Draconis) (III)


    Abilities: Mana Devourer


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 70


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 87


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 95


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 82


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points: 52/54


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points: 106/110


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Roar: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scale Harden: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flight: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Deep Breathing: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Breath of Shadows: Level 3 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Climb: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flamethrower: Level 4 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Advanced Mana Manipulation: Level 3 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Core Stabilization: Level 4 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Lightning Affinity: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Techniques(1/1):


    - Phantom Dragon Dance: Level 1(I)


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes - Focusing Lenses, Peripheral Optimization (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws - Claw Flexibility, Razor-Edge Claws (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales - Colour Adaptation, Shock-Absorbent Scales (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings - Hollow Bones (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir, Mana Conservation (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac - Stamina Surge Reservoir, Toxicity Neutralizer (III): +0


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Conduit Vasculature - Micro-Mana Control, Mana Conduit Resilience (III): +0


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 18


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 99


    </li>


    </ul>


    This was a proper bit of progress, wasn¡¯t it? Nearly all my stats were unrecognizable from where they¡¯d once been¡ªa written record of how far I¡¯d come, as it were. Strengthened with each encounter, a grand wave of accomplishment swept over me. I¡¯d have Barn to thank for the early boost, no question, but after that, every inch gained was mine. I¡¯d done it¡ªon my very own! Now, once again, I found myself near the edge of evolution. Well, perhaps not quite; still five levels to go, but close enough for a bit of well-earned self-congratulation!


    My eyes skimmed over the screen, catching the same old oddities with stamina points. If there was any sense to what made them increase, I¡¯d long since thrown in the towel. For now, it seemed they only grew whenever my other stats took a jump.


    And then at the bottom, the morphogens stared back at me. It¡¯d take roughly 65 points to advance a single organ. With my current stash, I could only push one organ forward, if I fancied it. But at present, the thought of mutating felt a bit... vulnerable, so I brushed it off. However tempting a Tier IV upgrade on these rare bits might be, I¡¯d prefer to skip the mutation fanfare just now.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    That left skill upgrades, and I eagerly dived in. With a bounty of skill points on hand, I had more than enough to splurge. One by one, the options came up, and I picked the best of the lot. Not all that thrilling at Tier II, true, though a couple were decent enough. In the end, I nabbed a good mix, all for the cost of five skill points. Quite a satisfying haul!


    [Advanced Flight:] Wing and muscle coordination enhanced; wing bones adapt subtly to optimize airflow, reducing drag. Improves high-speed control, enables rapid altitude shifts, and allows precise dives, sharp turns, and sudden ascents.


    [Rich Respiration:] Lung alveoli density increased for faster air absorption. Significantly boosts stamina regeneration during rest, reduces recovery breath time in combat, and enhances tolerance to low-air environments for prolonged exertion.


    [Adaptive Grip:] Claws and digits gain adaptive tensioning, enabling grip adjustment on various surfaces. Increases climbing speed and stability, allowing secure clinging on challenging, smooth, or inverted terrain.


    [Resonance Roar:] Vocal cords and throat structure modified for deeper resonance, producing a low-frequency vibration. Increases roar range and intensity, inducing fear and briefly disrupting balance of nearby opponents, reducing response time.


    [Reinforced Scales:] Scales gain an additional sub-layer of dense fibers, increasing resistance to physical and elemental damage. Reinforcement disperses impact force, minimizing damage from concentrated attacks.


    With a step up in skills, it felt like I¡¯d made a substantial leap in my progression. Had me wondering, as I often did, what it¡¯d be like without a system to lavishly allow me to use these skill points. Just imagining it: how many humans, Elves, dwarves, even beast-kins out there, brimming with untapped potential they¡¯ve yet to touch. Assuming, of course, they had resources like mine to begin with.


    I shook my head; another matter to chew over later. Right now, there was work to be done. A few deft hops through the underbrush brought me close to camp again. As I skirted around, I found my entrance¡ªa nice, quiet patch with a shabby barricade just beyond the glowing blue barrier. Easy enough to soar over, yet those makeshift watchtowers¡ªoh, those were the real nuisance. Masked Elven mages and archers perched atop them, watchful as hawks, ready to skewer anything daft enough to come too close.


    A plan began to brew. Time to play the bait once more, it seemed. Couldn¡¯t deny I¡¯d developed a certain¡­ fondness for luring these ravenous beasts after me. The ones who¡¯d happily shred me to bits, all while I led them merrily to where I wanted them¡ªif the glint in my grin was any sign.


    ***


    Wasn¡¯t long before I stumbled upon a hulking Manaroe-like creature. Not quite the colossal brute I¡¯d seen before, but still formidable enough to give those Elves a proper fright. A doddle leading its thick head to the spot I wanted. And when the system kindly threw a quest at it, it did just as planned¡ªcharged the barrier full tilt. Along the way, I picked up a few other monsters who eagerly joined the brawl. A sizeable kerfuffle ensued, capturing the second watchtower¡¯s attention, and with my technique active, I snuck closer, silent as a shadow. By description, it should cloak me entirely so long as I stayed as still as stone¡ªand sure enough, no one seemed the wiser as I edged up to the barrier.


    Time for the grand moment. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes, struck a stance, and bolted forward. Worst-case scenario? I¡¯d crash headlong into the blue shimmer, then find myself pinned like a dartboard under a barrage of arrows and spells.


    I was just considering the best case when I opened my eyes¡ªand found myself right beside it! SUCCESS! I could phase through thin magical barriers too. Oh, Thalador, what splendid news! This technique was positively busted. But I shook my head, reminding myself not to get carried away.


    No one seemed to notice me as they were busy fending off that enormous, manaroe-like beast. And blast it, the barrier actually had a fracture from where the creature had charged. Makes sense they¡¯d be vigilant about taking it down before it became a proper disaster.


    I offered a mock salute in the beast¡¯s direction. Thank you, brave, clueless creature. Your sacrifice shall not be remembered! With that, it was time for a proper infiltration. I kept my air sense sharp as I glided over the barricade. More monsters had gathered, and that big brute looked ready for another charge. The surrounding elves were thoroughly preoccupied. I dove with such grace and silence, even I could scarcely believe it¡ªmy landings had never been this smooth. The upgrade was absolutely worth it for these little tricks.


    I took a moment to survey my surroundings. I was in the rear of some meticulously aligned tents. From my earlier scouting, I had a general idea of the layout. There were two rows of tents on three sides, with the fourth side open, but heavily watched, so that route was a no-go. My main aim? Gather whatever the elves knew. And if possible, slip into the cultists¡¯ tent. Since they were giving orders to these delvers, they¡¯d likely have an operations tent here as well. But that would be a trial-and-error affair.


    I began my search, using Air Sense to suss out which tents were unoccupied, sliding into the empty ones like a breeze through a drafty window. Mostly, I found the usual assortment of delver knick-knacks, likely left by the lot hired under the cultists¡¯ dodgy contract. A few weapons, some personal effects, even the odd alchemy or enchanting kit. Shame I couldn¡¯t pocket any of it¡ªquite the pity, really.


    I pressed on, keeping an ear cocked for any stray tidbits the Elven delvers might unwittingly drop. One detail struck me as rather curious¡ªa seething undercurrent of resentment in their tones, punctuated by muttered gripes about the ¡°handlers¡± that seemed to lace nearly every whispered exchange. Their top complaint? Pay cuts. Particularly galling, it seemed, after they''d been stranded here for weeks on end. Supplies had taken a similar nosedive, leaving them scraping by on meager portions while the cultists'' stores remained under lock and key. Tension simmered between them, with some conversations edging dangerously close to full-blown arguments¡ªas if the entire setup was ready to tip into outright mutiny.


    One juicy morsel came my way: apparently, these delvers were bound by contract, unable to leave until their time was up. I caught one Elf whispering about a mate who¡¯d been caught trying to slip away at the fortress gates, only to be dragged back with threats of hard labour. Whatever the cultists had going here, it reeked of ruthless efficiency, bleeding every resource dry¡ªincluding their own people.


    A grim thought whispered in the back of my mind¡ªwere these delvers destined for the chopping block as well? I pushed it aside. Why sacrifice their own? Last time, I¡¯d seen them desecrating beast-kin bodies for nothing more than grotesque decor. Did these cultists even need sacrifices, or was it all just a morbid flourish for the grim aesthetic?


    But speculation could wait¡ªI had cultists to find, and their tents called to me. Skirting through each one with care, I paused here and there in snug, shadowed nooks to let Rich Respiration restore my stamina. That stamina-hungry technique needed its fuel.


    Finally, I spotted it¡ªa sprawling pavilion across the way, almost in the opposite corner from where I¡¯d slipped in. Eight signatures pulsed faintly inside, clustered around the center, with one off to the far side¡ªand another one... floating? That was new. A quick scan with Air Sense mapped the area around it in satisfying detail, revealing what looked to be a small shelf¡ªjust the sort of perch perfect for a subtle, tucked-away entrance.


    I poked a tiny hole in the fabric, wary of wards or the chance that the assumed shelf was really a transparent screen, a perfect trap for the incautious. All seemed clear. I took a breath, checking my stamina reserves, which hovered nicely above ninety points¡ªjust the buffer I needed.


    Without further ado, I phased through the fabric. Time to see what these blighters were up to this time.

 Interlude 2.4: Heralas

    Heralas glared down at the whimpering string bean of an Elf, hands twitching, fingers itching to wring the life out of this spoiled little pillock. That voice! By the gods, it scraped at his patience, a grating blend of a child¡¯s tantrum and some posh berk¡¯s hissy fit.


    And what was he supposed to do with it, exactly? Was Cerith actually punishing him by foisting this whingeing waste of space upon him? That twisted sod was probably having a good chuckle back in his study. On second thought, Cerith wasn¡¯t exactly the chuckling type; more of a glacial sneer if anything.


    The immediate problem was squawking right in front of him. Eryndor Faenlith, heir to House Faenlith¡ªwell, technically¡ªthough Selene knows how far the house had tumbled with this perfumed prat as kin. There he stood, draped in pristine white robes, his face a feeble echo of his father¡¯s, who¡¯d once stood alone against a monster horde in Silvethorne Glades. Heralas was willing to bet this prissy twig had never even seen a monster up close. Halfway through another whinge about lack of "basic comforts" and his order¡¯s supposed ineptitude, Heralas forced a nod, cursing himself for not nicking a stronger drink before this misery began.


    ¡°¡­And you expect me to recline upon the earth itself? The earth, mind you! Teeming with creatures¡ªright here, within the camp¡¯s bounds. One of them had the audacity to slither up from the soil beneath me! Scandalous. Imagine what mon p¨¨re would say, knowing I am subjected to such¡­ barbarie!¡± The noble¡¯s delicate lip curled as he gave the camp a sniff, as though he might catch a whiff of ¡°common¡± off it.


    Oh, his father would keel over from shock, no doubt, if he knew what a feckless wimp his precious whelp had become. Heralas just wondered if they¡¯d sent him any guidance for what in blazes he was supposed to do with him.


    Instead, he kept his voice level, feigned a shred of sympathy, and by Selene, it stung to keep it polite. ¡°The ground is, indeed, somewhat¡­ unsuited, my lord,¡± he managed. ¡°However, we are conducting this ritual at quite a clip, and there¡¯s little time to arrange accommodations. Apologies, truly. Soon, you shall receive Lord Styn Lor¡¯s blessing. You¡¯ll then need to ¡®cultivate¡¯ within the dungeon. Perhaps a bit of experience with monsters would not go¡­ amiss.¡±


    That last bit got his lordship¡¯s attention all right, and in exactly the wrong way.


    ¡°Cultiver?¡± Eryndor¡¯s voice shot up a note or two, eyes bugging. ¡°Pray, what madness do you speak of? You would have me confront beasts? I¡¯ve already ensured my father¡¯s most ¨¦lite guards are at our service for precisely such brutish tasks!¡±


    He spun to the nearest guard, a silver-armored Valerian, with two more in tow. Elite guards, Heralas¡¯ backside. He¡¯d seen them ¡°fight,¡± if one could call it that. House Faenlith must be lowering their standards if these lads were at the top.


    ¡°Of course, my lord,¡± the guard intoned, clearly used to this palaver. ¡°We¡¯ll provide you with whatever you require once you have the blessings.¡±


    ¡°Beast-chasing? Moi? As if I¡¯d lower myself to such antics, like your band of ruffians! This talk of ¡®experience¡¯ is absurd; I¡¯ve no need for such trivialities.¡± The young whingebag spat back, and Heralas fought the urge to throttle the brat right there and then.


    He cast one pleading look at Arbiter Enlor, standing beside him in sleek black armour. Enlor, a figure of actual power, matched Heralas¡¯s own low-red core level but offered nothing more than a weary head shake.


    Just as fed up as him, it seemed, but equally hand-tied when it came to dealing with these Noble whingers.


    ¡°My lord, terribly sorry that you felt so... vulnerable,¡± Heralas said, bowing, all the while entertaining one deliciously intrusive thought: snapping every last one of these prats'' necks. But no, he dismissed it¡ªCerith, that twisted wench, would make sure he regretted it worse than death. Instead, he plastered on a placating smile. ¡°We¡¯re speeding up the ritual as fast as we can. The blessing and power are almost yours, my lord. Though, just my personal view¡ªcould still be useful to test against a few creatures. Just an idea.¡±


    The noble¡¯s sneer could¡¯ve killed a weaker man. ¡°Keep your fanciful ideas to yourself, Arcaniste Heralas. In fact, see to it that the guard is doubled until the ritual begins. What, pray tell, is the purpose of your wages if not to ensure my safety?¡±


    Heralas barely held back an eye roll. If the brat knew a thing about his father¡¯s coin, well, maybe he¡¯d understand that his safety wasn¡¯t the actual priority here¡ªbut that¡¯d all change once the prat gained power. How it pained Heralas to see this whelp ascend to low-gold.


    Selene save them all, was this the grand future of their once-proud order?


    Still, he gave another deferential nod, smooth as ever. ¡°Of course, my lord. I¡¯ll see to it the guard¡¯s ¡®fortified,¡¯ and you¡¯ll be... utterly secure.¡± Even though Heralas would bet his right bollock the brat wouldn¡¯t last a morning with his own damn whining.


    The little lordling sniffed, looking like he¡¯d smelled something rank as he gestured toward the supplies. ¡°And the provisions¡ªthis¡­ potage is a disgrace, unworthy of even a vermin¡¯s palate. An Elf of my standing requires fare that is fresh, not whatever abomination this might be.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Fresh. Heralas almost smirked, the urge to shove him into the muck prickling at his palms. ¡°Yes, my lord, I¡¯ll... see about arranging something more ¡®suitable.¡¯¡±


    The brat raised a brow, voice as sweet as a poisoned quill. ¡°Excellent. And, Arcaniste Heralas, it would grieve me deeply to mention this to Oncle Cerith. Surely, you wouldn¡¯t wish your d¨¦vouement to duty called into question.¡±


    Selene above, he was making it really difficult not to flay him on the spot. Heralas gave a tight nod, swallowing the bile in his throat. ¡°Of course, my lord.¡±


    And just like that, the wench waltzed off, leaving Heralas stewing in his own bloody rage.


    At last, he turned to size up the three remaining guests. Ah, the delvers¡ªthe lot hunting down that pesky creature mucking up their rituals. As if Heralas needed another reminder that some sodding nuisance was hell-bent on putting a spanner in their works.


    First, Arion goes and does whatever unholy bollocks he did, ending up dead and unleashing a bloody NetherBeast to boot. Seriously, what in the actual hell happened there?


    Investigations were still underway, and it looked like the outcome would be exactly what he feared. Heralas suspected it was tangled up in more of that noble nonsense, since Arion himself was one¡ªthere always was some shady shite when it came to them, wasn¡¯t there? But no, this time he was the one at the helm, and he¡¯d be damned if he¡¯d let this whole circus go tits-up on his watch.


    Putting on a strained smile, he addressed the delver in front of him.


    He could stomach this lot far better than those prissy nobles with their airs and graces. At least the delvers had earned their keep by grit alone, chasing down monsters and honing their craft.


    Pity they didn¡¯t see why rations had been tight¡ªserving some sodding noble and his entourage of twenty guards. His own order was left scraping by just as much as the delvers, all thanks to this hasty circus.


    They¡¯d been given precious little time to prepare for the so-called ¡°blessing,¡± and Arion¡¯s spectacular cock-up¡ªnot to mention getting a noble killed in the process¡ªhad left a bloody stain on their reputation, plain as day. Now, Heralas was tasked with salvaging it all with yet another rushed ritual, just so they didn¡¯t miss this ¡°oh-so-rare¡± opportunity.


    Did he personally give a toss? Not particularly. But with noble pressure on one side and his order''s neck on the chopping block, he had no choice but to dive in himself. Still, he¡¯d have preferred a proper buildup of dungeon energy, but that ship had sailed. All because of some bastard intent on causing mayhem, and there he was, hands tied, raging helplessly.


    Heralas shook his head, his gaze falling on the delver¡ªCarel, was it? Right, he¡¯d had a word with him and his team earlier; Carel was the poor sod that got walloped by that creature.


    ¡°We can come back later if timing¡¯s a problem,¡± Carel said, shifting his weight with that weathered look of someone who¡¯d rather be hunting monsters than dealing with all this pomp.


    Heralas shook his head, muttering, ¡°Time¡¯s a luxury we don¡¯t have. Just give me the rundown¡ªwhat¡¯ve we got this time?¡± He sighed, already bracing for the worst. ¡°Did the Divinator manage to scrape anything useful off your mate¡¯s butchered corpses?¡±


    The delver''s face tightened at ¡®mate¡¯¡ªperhaps not so close a friend after all, but the look said enough. ¡°He¡¯s giving it another go now, told us to check in after. Whatever this beast is, it¡¯s masking itself from divination. Or whoever¡¯s pulling the strings is doing it for it. Divinator¡¯s drawing blanks all over the place, which is strange; last time, we dug up quite a bit.¡±


    As usual, nothing but a pile of shite for Heralas to wade through. He glanced over at Arbiter Elnor, who, stony as ever, was starting to show signs of wear himself. After a few probing questions, the delvers recounted the recent events. The creature had been captured, and under strict orders to be kept in pristine condition, ripe for a bit of good old-fashioned divining to sniff out its master. But the beast had broken loose at the last minute and shredded all four poor sods to bits.


    Aside from its unsettling shape-shifting, the creature wielded potent lightning magic, a touch of ghostly trickery, and brute strength to boot. Beyond that? Zilch. Heralas was leaning towards it being undead; whoever was pulling its strings had to be damn powerful. Red core, at least.


    And cautious, too¡ªa detail he might be able to twist to his advantage. After dismissing the delvers, he took a rare moment of quiet, just him and Elnor in the camp.


    ¡°Well, if this isn¡¯t a right twist-up,¡± he muttered dryly, not bothering to hold back on his language anymore. ¡°Once again, it¡¯s all on me. Part of me just wants to fuck off and live a nice, quiet life brewing potions in some forest. But, nooo, I¡¯m in too deep, ain¡¯t I? Nobility would have me head before I could even say ¡®bollocks to this.¡¯ Oh, Selene, why are you giving me such grief?¡± He sighed, glancing up at Elnor¡¯s stony expression. ¡°But, whatever¡ªwhoever¡¯s pulling the strings on this creature is already making a right arse of our plans. Might as well get ahead of them, eh?¡±


    Elnor¡¯s gaze sharpened, one dark brow arching, deadpan as a gravestone. ¡°Oh, fantastic. Because rushing rituals has never gone tits-up for anyone, has it?¡±


    Heralas scowled. ¡°Sarcasm doesn¡¯t suit you; it¡¯s dreadful, truly. But I¡¯m serious. What exactly are we waiting for? More mangled bodies and half-baked visions from that fat, excuse-for-a-divinator sack we dragged along? I¡¯d be well pleased if the beast went for him next.¡±


    Elnor huffed, his rigid mask slipping just enough to glint with humor. Now, that was terrifying¡ªhim acting out of character, all for Heralas¡¯s benefit. ¡°Just so I¡¯m clear, you¡¯d rather we dive into some¡­ half-baked ritual and hope it¡¯s close enough to the ¡®real deal¡¯? Have you heard yourself?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly my standard approach, no. I don¡¯t do ¡®close enough,¡¯ Elnor. But this time, we¡¯re out of time. We botch this, and we can say goodbye to the order. I mean, these bloody rituals? Spent enough time with ¡®em to know they¡¯re no ordinary summoning games.¡± Heralas threw up his hands and started pacing. ¡°Just makes me wonder what these bloody nobles are up to. But whatever it is, it doesn¡¯t change that we¡¯ve got to go through with it. Something¡¯s out there, organizing, and it¡¯s sharp as a knife in our arses. No more perfect relics and offerings. Whatever I¡¯ve gathered, my years as a ritualist tell me we¡¯ve got enough for a go, even if it¡¯ll be on me to fix every damn nuance once it starts.¡±


    Elnor shook his head slowly, his usual stone face snapping back into place. ¡°So, your brilliant idea is to just¡­ trust that we¡¯ve got enough juice to hold this thing?¡±


    ¡°Oh, not just ¡®trust.¡¯¡± Heralas chuckled. ¡°You¡¯ve gone awfully cynical of my expertise lately, Elnor. I know we can pull it off. But we need zero interruptions. If that creature shows up for round two, I want you out there yourself with those so-called ¡®elite¡¯ guards that pompous cow dragged in.¡± With a last pinched finger raised, Heralas started off. ¡°And we¡¯re starting right bloody now!¡±

 Chapter 80: Poison Dragon

    Oh, Thalador, I thought my thundering heart might betray me right there and then, but the moment I saw the last of who I presumed to be in charge slip out through the tent flaps, I finally exhaled a sigh of relief. And just like that, I was left alone in their sanctum. Learned a fair bit, far more than I¡¯d anticipated.


    A bloody ritual to elevate someone to low-gold? By the gods, what in all of Lithrindel were these Elves plotting? It made a twisted sort of sense, of course. Cults rarely moved without noble strings tugging at their leashes. And wouldn¡¯t you know it, they were trying to ascend some prancing heir. But that Heralas guy didn¡¯t seem too chuffed about the whole ordeal. Can¡¯t say I blame him.


    And as for that noble elf they were so desperate to exalt? What a prize-winning whingebag. The sourness of his snivelling attitude could curdle milk. That¡¯s the would-be leader they¡¯re grooming? Lithrindel¡¯s doom might arrive faster with that berk at the helm. Stupid sods, the lot of them.


    My eyes swept the tent as I stepped out from my hiding spot, each detail snagging on my attention like brambles on a cloak. It wasn¡¯t luxurious¡ªfunctional, mostly¡ªbut there was a touch of carelessness that set my claws itching. A heavy oak table dominated the center, groaning under the weight of maps and scrolls haphazardly scattered across its surface. Corners were pinned down by whatever was to hand: a polished silver dagger, a rune-etched stone, and a half-drained goblet with a rim sticky enough to make me wince.


    To one side, a cot sagged under a tangle of unmade blankets, and against the wall where I¡¯d been lurking, a low shelf held a mess of scrolls and leather-bound tomes. Their spines were cracked and stained, promising secrets I didn¡¯t have time to uncover. But perched atop the shelf, gleaming under the hues, was the real prize. A glass case, its contents arranged as neatly as a jeweler¡¯s display.


    Alchemy supplies! My claws twitched with anticipation as I slid the latch open, careful to keep the hinges from creaking.


    My air sense stayed sharp, tuned for any incoming disturbances, but once my eyes locked onto the treasures inside, nothing short of a thunderclap would¡¯ve torn me away.


    The first vial I snatched up practically sang in the hues¡ªa clear liquid shot through with a silvery shimmer. A quick shake confirmed it. Silvershade Sap. The lazy, deliberate way the bubbles clung to the glass before slinking upward was unmistakable. By Thalador, this was high-tier stuff. Finicky to distill, near impossible to purify without fouling the batch. Whoever brewed this had the patience of a saint.


    But knowing it was one of these bloody cultists? That left a foul taste in my mouth. Wasted talent. What a bloody shame.


    My gaze flitted past yet another vial before landing on a thick, crimson beauty. With a flick of my claw, I uncorked it, raising it to my nose for a cautious sniff. The acrid, metallic tang tickled my senses¡ªNightthorn Extract, perfectly matured. Too fresh, and it reeks of rotten onions; too old, and it¡¯s nothing but a sticky sludge. But this one? The Goldilocks of poisons: just right.


    The next few vials? Utterly pedestrian. But the herbs, oh, the herbs were a different story. My eyes lit upon a sprig of Barrowgrass, its red tendrils curling inward like an offended houseplant. Poisonous, naturally. A spark of inspiration danced in my head, and before I could second-guess myself, I channelled four points into my fire gland. Down to 50 mana points. Worth it. I plucked a single leaf, popped it into my mouth, and chewed.


    Bitter as sin, with a wicked afterburn that prickled my tongue¡ªBarrowgrass, fresh and feisty. My Macro-Trophic sac kicked into action, absorbing the venom. The result? My mana ticked up by one. My eyes widened with glee. I knew that Toxicity Immunity upgrade was worth every last point! Not just for its mana-conversion prowess, but for the sheer audacity of what it allowed me to do.


    Imagine returning to civilization as a proper alchemist! No tedious processes for identifying herbs. No delicate sniffing or careful infusions. No, no¡ªI could just poison myself! AHAHAHAHA! Ahem. Back to the matter at hand.


    More ingredients beckoned. Nearby, powdered Blightcap offered a familiar, waspish tang that stung my nose delightfully. I leaned closer and inhaled sharply¡ªmy reward was another glorious burn and a small mana boost. Ahhh, addictive! I was tempted to take another hit before slapping some sense into myself. Alchemy was turning me scatterbrained again. Still, how could I not? This trove was a playground for my mind, and the possibilities were endless.


    And then, the resin. Sticky, golden-brown Coppervine Resin, with a faint aroma of burnt sugar. I pinched a bit, rubbing it between my claws. Sticky, yes, but not gummy¡ªa sign of proper patience in the harvesting process. Whoever collected this knew their craft and took their time letting it seep naturally from the bark. Expensive stuff, this.


    My thoughts buzzed as I considered brewing a mana potion. Alas, no Foxglow or Greymoss graced this stash, so that dream would wait for another day. Poisons, however? An absolute treasure trove. Whoever had prepared this cache was no amateur, but the real shame? They didn¡¯t anticipate someone like me coming along. Their loss, my goldmine.


    I clutched the chest tightly to my body, holding it close with my claws as I walked bipedally back toward the tent¡¯s entrance, slipping behind the shelf where I¡¯d first come in. A thought struck me, one that had somehow eluded me until now¡ªcould I phase through barriers while carrying something with me? Odd that it had never crossed my mind, but oh, Thalador, the last thing I wanted was to leave these glorious ingredients behind.


    I had a plan. A delightful, audacious plan to utterly ruin these ritualists¡¯ day. The irony wasn¡¯t lost on me¡ªeverything I needed to bring their efforts to ruin had been handed to me on a silver platter, right here in their tent. Usually, there was only so much a sneaky little dragon like me could do against an army. But this time? This time, they¡¯d face a poison dragon.


    I¡¯d never used my alchemy to harm before. And when I had needed to harm, alchemy wasn¡¯t an option. Now, for the first time, I had both the means and the motive. And I was determined to make it count.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    First, the setup. I activated Air Sense, scanning for any signs of lurking cultists. The air was clear. Good. I triggered Phantom Dragon Dance, and a flickering distortion enveloped my form. My perception sharpened, and I turned my attention to the tent fabric. Time to test the theory. I closed my eyes, focused, and tried to phase through with the chest.


    The result? Disaster. Over and over, I attempted the maneuver, only for the chest to clatter noisily behind me like a child¡¯s tantrum. The conclusion was clear¡ªwhile I could phase through, my cargo didn¡¯t seem keen on joining me. An unfortunate limitation. No sneaky escapes for me this time.


    But that didn¡¯t mean I was out of tricks. If sneaky wouldn¡¯t do, I¡¯d go with something¡­ less subtle. My grin stretched wide at the thought. These cultists already considered me a nuisance, and oh, how they deserved it. Why not turn that irritation up to eleven?


    I set to work, tearing a large sheet of cloth from a nearby pile and carefully wrapping it around the glass container of poisons. Using another length of fabric, I secured the bundle to my back. A quick hop and a double-check confirmed it was steady. And because I couldn¡¯t resist, I fashioned a makeshift bandana to tie around the tips of my horns. A poison dragon should look the part, after all.


    I inhaled deeply. Phase one complete. Now came phase two: breaking out. That accursed barrier was my main obstacle, but I¡¯d already seen it crack under the charge of a Stage 4 beast. My lightning should be more than capable of piercing it.


    But I¡¯d have to push myself. Hard. Time to see exactly how far these reinforced conduits could take me. A shiver of anticipation coursed through me.


    I stood steady, claws gripping the ground as if anchoring myself to the very earth. My fire gland was primed with four volleys of fire, and my mana points hovered at 53. A deep breath steadied me, though my heart thundered in time with the storm building within me. The barrier was ahead, but I couldn¡¯t see it clearly. Cutting the fabric would have been easier, but I couldn¡¯t risk being spotted early.


    Lightning mana raged obediently through my veins, the sensation both agonizing and exhilarating. It responded to my command like an overzealous hound, surging forward in threads as I began weaving the runes. The delicate structure shimmered as the threads intertwined. Three runes formed quickly, and I funneled 15 mana points into it.


    But it wasn¡¯t enough.


    With a growl, I pushed further¡ª25 points, the pain biting at my arms like smoldering embers. Still not enough. 35 points. My claws curled, smoke rising as the mana scorched through my body. I screamed internally, my body threatening rebellion. But I pressed harder.


    40.


    45.


    50!


    The pain was unbearable. Lightning tore through my limbs like molten shards, and the runes flared with instability, sparking wildly as electricity danced around me. The air smelled of ozone and burnt scales. Shouts erupted outside the tent as the mana buildup reached a crescendo. My ears rang, and my vision blurred with static as every nerve in my body screamed.


    Then I heard her voice again¡ªLotte¡¯s question. How much did my body truly understand lightning? My mind grasped it, but for my body to accept it¡­ perhaps the key lay in surrender. And so, I let go.


    My instincts took over, guiding the final steps. I took aim at the barrier, the runes glowing with dangerous, unstable light. A single breath escaped my lips as I roared.


    ¡°LIGHTNING BOLT!¡±


    The bolt erupted with a deafening crack, a spear of blinding blue-white energy that tore through the tent and hurtled into the barrier. The recoil hit me like a battering ram, but my claws dug deep, keeping me grounded. The sheer force left my arms trembling, the burned scales on my claws screaming in protest.


    The barrier didn¡¯t stand a snowball¡¯s chance in a furnace. The impact reduced it to glittering shards, splintering like glass under a sledgehammer, glowing fragments scattering in a radiant storm. The explosion surged outward, scorching trees and toppling the smaller ones like hapless bystanders. Cultists shrieked as the crackling bolt split into deadly arcs of electricity, searing earth and beast alike.


    A grin tugged at my lips¡ªoh, the rush! Pain knifed through my body, but the chaos? Bliss. Destruction on this scale had a heady sort of allure. A symphony of terror, their yells, their scurrying, their desperate flails against the inevitable.


    Flames licked at the trees. Monsters crumpled like discarded puppets. Notifications burst onto the system screen, but I swatted them away without a second glance. The forest? An artist¡¯s canvas now. Painted strokes of carnage, of fire, of ash. A masterpiece forged in fury. And oh, how the destruction coursed through me¡ªlike lightning, but softer this time. Gentle. Euphoric.


    The sweet intoxication of destruction made the throbbing in my body a mere whisper compared to the symphony of ruin.


    But even amidst the revelry, I hadn¡¯t lost the thread of purpose. My will kept me tethered, though only just. Through the haze of pain and pleasure, I stretched my wings. Charred muscles screamed as I launched skyward. My focusing lenses slid into place, granting me a crystal-clear view of the devastation I¡¯d wrought.


    The cultists scrambled below, an army of ants whose hill had just been kicked. Orders were shouted, spells fumbled, chaos reigning supreme. At the heart of it all stood Heralas, rooted in place, staring at the wreckage of his precious barrier. His face was a masterpiece, horror and disbelief mingling beautifully. Oh, what I wouldn¡¯t give to peek into his thoughts at that moment.


    A few hasty spells streaked my way, but with my sharpened perception, they might as well have been butterflies in a hurricane. I wove through the air with effortless grace, the Phantom Dragon Dance cloaking my movements in rippling distortion. Upgraded Flight kicked in, speed turning my escape into a mocking blur.


    By the time they¡¯d pieced together what had happened, I was already deep in the dungeon¡¯s embrace, the foliage swallowing me whole.


    Safe.


    For now.

 Chapter 81: Preparations

    [You have slain a Level 9 Pyrocanis Lupus (III).]


    [You have slain a Level 17 Verdant Thornspike (III).]


    [You have slain a Level 1 Umbrafelis (I).]


    [You have slain a Level 1 Umbrafelis (I).]


    [You have slain a Level 1 Umbrafelis (I).]


    [You have slain a Level 2 Umbrafelis (I).]


    [You have slain a Level 2 Stonebound Skitterer (II).]


    [You have slain a Level 1 Aetherflit Wisp (I).]


    [You have slain a Level 11 Winterquill Boar (III).]


    [You have slain a Level 7 Cinderwing Moth (II).]


    ¡­.


    ¡­.


    Blimey, how wide was that thunder arc? My kill list stretched longer than a summer solstice shadow¡ªStages 1, 2, and 3 all making an appearance. But, of course, the real treasure lay buried beneath it all.


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Stat increases: Strength +2, Durability +2, Intelligence +2, Will +2.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Stat increases: Strength +2, Durability +2, Intelligence +2, Will +2.]


    [Skill point(s) obtained: +2.]


    And the pi¨¨ce de r¨¦sistance:


    [Flamethrower has reached level 5.]


    I couldn¡¯t help but smirk at the system screen as I bit into yet another poor, unsuspecting jellyfish-like monster. Charred it to a crisp with Flamethrower, and voil¨¤¡ªlevel 5 achieved. Progress tasted sweet, but the monster? A bit... electric. My wounds knit themselves together lazily as I picked through its blue, rubbery remains.


    My Air Sense still flared, and¡ªoddly enough¡ªevery critter in the vicinity seemed to flee at the sight of little ol'' me perched atop this oversized corpse. Pity. A palate cleanser would¡¯ve been lovely. Not that the jellyfish was bad¡ªjust... an acquired taste. Still, I couldn¡¯t deny I was hankering for some wolf meat. Ah, later, perhaps. Priorities first.


    I pulled up my status screen.


    <ul>


    <li>


    Name: Jade


    </li>


    <li>


    Level: 17


    </li>


    <li>


    Species: Voracious Manaweaver (Draconis) (III)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 74 (+4)


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 91 (+4)


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 99 (+4)


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 86 (+4)


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points (MP): 54 / 54


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points (SP): 113/ 113


    </li>


    </ul>


    Abilities:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Mana Devourer


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Resonance Roar: Level 1 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Reinforced Scales: Level 1 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Advanced Flight: Level 1 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Rich Respiration: Level 2 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Breath of Shadows: Level 4 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Adaptive Grip: Level 1 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flamethrower: Level 5 (I) (+)


    </li>


    <li>


    Advanced Mana Manipulation: Level 4 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Core Stabilization: Level 4 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Lightning Affinity: Level 3 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Techniques (1/1):


    <ul>


    <li>


    Phantom Dragon Dance: Level 1 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes: Focusing Lenses, Peripheral Optimization (III) (+0)


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws: Claw Flexibility, Razor-Edge Claws (III) (+0)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales: Colour Adaptation, Shock-Absorbent Scales (III) (+0)


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings: Hollow Bones (II) (+0)


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs: Joint Flexibility (II) (+0)


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland: Mana Reservoir, Mana Conservation (III) (+0)


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac: Stamina Surge Reservoir, Toxicity Neutralizer (III) (+0)


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Conduit Vasculature: Micro-Mana Control, Mana Conduit Resilience (III) (+0)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 15 (+2)


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 101


    </li>


    </ul>


    Rich Respiration had reached Level 2. Breath of Shadows was now Level 4, thanks to me keeping it active nearly 24/7. That left only Core Stabilization. Speaking of which¡ªhang on. I was bone-dry on mana when I clobbered this jellyfish, so why was my bar suddenly full aga¡ª


    Oh.


    Oh no.


    It was poisonous.


    I stared at the blue, gelatinous wreckage, realisation hitting me like a slap with a wet eel. Was that why all the scavengers had scarpered the moment I started munching on it?! Yet, despite my dawning horror, I couldn¡¯t resist licking my chops. No wonder the flavour packed such a... spirited punch.


    All credit to my trusty Macro-Trophic Sac, saving the day once again. And there I was, thinking I¡¯d have to burn precious time recovering with Core Stabilization. Speaking of which, it was also Level 4 and just shy of an upgrade. Shame, really¡ªno time to linger about. Those cultists would be stirring like ants from a kicked hill after my cheeky little stunt with their tent.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    No rest for the wicked¡ªor for the dragonling skulking right under their noses. Which, come to think of it, was decidedly inconvenient for me. Oh, Thalador preserve me. Thanks to my impromptu pyrotechnics, they were now keenly aware of my rather flashy¡ªand might I add scorchingly effective¡ªLightning magic. The forest still bore the scars of my little thunderclap tantrum, a vertical slice of devastation bought by me.


    Subtlety? Out the window.


    I could have slipped away unnoticed, but, alas, a rebellious streak within me refused to leave all that deliciously toxic alchemi¡ªerr, ingredients¡ªbehind. Plus, I had a more creative plan brewing than barging into another cultist-infested fight.


    Though something strange did give me pause. From what I overheard of their mutterings, they couldn¡¯t seem to divine anything about me. Now that was odd.


    My brain throbbed with the effort of making sense of it. I knew absolutely nothing about divination magic, so how could I possibly be countering it? I hadn¡¯t done a thing to shield myself from their prying eyes¡ªor at least, not knowingly.


    Still, I shrugged it off. It was their problem, not mine. If they couldn¡¯t track me, that worked to my advantage. It was how I caught those sneaky bastards who¡¯d kidnapped me earlier by surprise.


    Not a tactic I could rely on forever, though. Once someone understood how Phantom Dragon Dance worked, the element of surprise would vanish. Every power has its limits, no matter how flashy it looks. If someone¡¯s specifically gunning for me, they¡¯ll figure it out eventually.


    No point in dwelling on it for now; there were shinier distractions to chase. The next order of business: upgrading Flamethrower.


    Once again, there was only one advancement option. Naturally, I took it without a second thought. If it ain¡¯t broke, why hesitate?


    [Inferno Jet:]


    Fire gland capacity and flame ducts upgraded to manage higher output pressure. Enables extended flame range and intensified projection. Enhanced directional control supports wide-area coverage with decreased range or precise, narrow streams for focused damage and increased range.


    Range had always been Flamethrower''s Achilles¡¯ heel. But now, I could crank up the intensity, focusing the blaze into a searing, narrow beam to cover more ground.


    I tested it on a nearby tree, and blimey¡ªthe range had effectively doubled. The flame now concentrated to roughly the size of a clenched fist, leaving a smouldering gouge in the bark.


    A marvellous upgrade, this was. At last, I could punch through shields with pinpoint fire damage, should the moment call for it.


    Naturally, this called for a celebratory jig¡ªcue the little happy dragon dance. Oh, it was gloriously worth it.


    But before my thoughts wandered too far afield, I refocused on the task at hand. My gaze fell on the glass case of alchemical supplies I¡¯d "liberated."


    I lacked proper apparatus, true, but judging by the box¡¯s contents and my desired concoction, most of what I needed seemed prepped and ready. All I¡¯d have to do was fiddle with the volumes sans a single measuring tool.


    Not ideal, but precision under pressure? That was my bread and butter.


    Rolling up imaginary sleeves, I delved into the case, and once again, my breath caught. Oh, Thalador, how I adored alchemy. The heady scent of herbs and reagents sent my pulse racing, my heart pounding in sheer anticipation. Time to begin.


    Spread before me were my ill-gotten gains: vials, herbs, and one lonely glass tube. No mortar, no pestle, no flame-enchanted contraptions¡ªjust what I could scrounge together.


    Not precisely a laboratory fit for a grandmaster, but as Lotte once drily observed, poison-making isn¡¯t about perfection; it¡¯s about getting results. And results? That¡¯s my specialty.


    First up, the base. I decanted a thin ribbon of Nightthorn Extract into the glass tube. Its viscosity was spot-on¡ªdense enough to cling to a blade but not so sticky it¡¯d gum up the works. A gentle swirl confirmed it: the extract left no stubborn residue on the tube¡¯s inner walls. Clearly, it had been aged properly, free of the impurities that could ruin consistency.


    Next, a touch of Silvershade Sap. Popping the cork, I added two careful drops. Silvershade is a stabiliser, its silvery shimmer owed to the colloidal particles that knit toxins together. Add too much, and the mixture becomes a sluggish mess; too little, and it falls apart. But just the right amount? It turns poisons into works of art.


    Ah, now for the fun part: powdered Blightcap. With a delicate pinch between my claws, I flicked it into the mix. A satisfying hiss rose as the acidic Silvershade reacted with the alkaloids, releasing a waft of spicy, pepper-laced fumes. Lovely.


    The compounds would play off each other splendidly, making the venom all the more vicious. A quick swirl revealed the reaction was coming along nicely¡ªtiny bubbles fizzing and popping.


    For the next part, I grabbed a sprig of Barrowgrass. Crushing it properly was a bit beyond my claws¡¯ finesse, so I pressed it against the side of the vial and applied pressure. That did the trick, releasing its volatile juices into the mixture.


    Barrowgrass venom had a tendency to degrade into something laughably harmless, but thanks to the Silvershade, it would remain deliciously dangerous. I crushed another sprig for good measure, watching as the liquid darkened to a rich, near-black crimson. Exquisite.


    Finally, the trickiest element: Coppervine Resin. Tricky not because of its lethality, but its stubborn nature¡ªit stuck to everything and dissolved only under precise conditions.


    I channelled a few points of mana into my fire gland, the upgrades to my flamethrower letting me control the heat with precision. Carefully, I warmed the resin until it started to bubble and soften, scraping a dollop into the tube.


    Resin¡¯s natural stickiness made it an excellent binder, but if it wasn¡¯t dissolved properly, it could ruin the whole affair. A vigorous shake later, the strands melted into the concoction, giving it a glossy, almost oily sheen. Perfect.


    This venom would stick to anything¡ªblades, arrows, or, in this case, something far grander.


    I leaned in for a sniff, letting the bouquet unfold. The tangy bite of Silvershade, the subtle bitterness of Barrowgrass, and the burnt sweetness of Coppervine¡ªit was all there.


    Testing a drop on the back of a claw confirmed the texture: slick but not tacky, potent without being prone to spontaneous combustion. Ideal.


    I couldn¡¯t help but revel in the brilliance of my creation, eyeing the sinister, shimmering liquid with equal parts pride and awe. Improvised? Certainly. But damned if it wasn¡¯t sheer genius all the same.


    Whoever had brewed up these ingredients deserved both a standing ovation and a solid smack upside the head for siding with those cultist cretins. A pity, really. Their day was about to go downhill faster than a greased goblin on a slalom.


    As with everything Lotte ever taught me, this wasn¡¯t your garden-variety drink-and-drop poison. Oh no, she had a flair for concoctions that ran the gamut from mildly amusing to I¡¯d rather the poison had just finished me off.


    It was exactly why I was always a bit wary of using them. That, and the looming threat of divination. Let¡¯s be honest: getting caught with my signature brew wreaking havoc in some town that already had it in for me? Not the best way to secure my longevity.


    But for this particular poison? By Thalador¡¯s left stinky boot, this was going to be positively delicious. I could, theoretically, coat my claws and teeth with the stuff and go on the offensive that way, but that was a bit too bold, even for me. No, this called for a more refined, nuanced approach.


    My gaze fell on the vial again. The next step in my grand plan was going to be a touch experimental¡ªuncharted waters, if you will. I needed these toxins airborne, and for that, I just so happened to have the perfect tool.


    Lightning magic. A term from my dream whispered through my mind: electrolysis. Using electricity to turn liquid poison into gas would be quick, efficient... chef¡¯s kiss. Only one small snag: the lightning spell I knew wasn¡¯t exactly built for delicate manoeuvres.


    Or was it? Every upgrade I¡¯d taken so far had leaned towards finesse, hadn¡¯t it? Maybe I could pull this off after all. A bit of experimentation wouldn¡¯t hurt.


    Summoning the runes, I kept them as small as I could manage this time. Carefully, I reined in the lightning mana, allowing only the faintest tickle to escape¡ªno more flinging open the floodgates like before.


    My eyes locked on my dwindling mana points, and the moment a single point disappeared, I stopped. Distributing this tiny amount in a neat 2:2:1 ratio, I felt a flicker of triumph. Now to see if my theory would bear fruit¡ªor just blow up in my face.


    And as I stared at the fully charged matrix, a familiar urge rose in my chest¡ªthe spell¡¯s name, unbidden, perched on my tongue, daring me to unleash it.


    But I resisted.


    I didn¡¯t want to release everything in one flashy burst. Instead, I honed my focus on the matrix, coaxing the mana to flow gently, mirroring the delicate precision I¡¯d felt during casting.


    There was no teacher to guide me now, no steady hand to point the way. Trial and error were my only companions. So, when the matrix fizzled out in a disappointing puff, I rolled up my metaphorical sleeves and started again. And again. Until, finally, the lesson hit me square between the eyes. Enlightenment came not from control but from surrender.


    I¡¯d been so obsessed with micromanaging every spark, I¡¯d forgotten the essence of lightning¡ªit isn¡¯t tamed; it¡¯s guided. The moment I stopped trying to rule it with an iron fist, the energy responded like an overexcited pup. A small arc leapt from the matrix, its path eager but measured, as the mana drained in a slow, steady flow.


    Grinning, I grabbed the glass case, dribbled a bit of the poison onto its metal rim, and set up my impromptu lab. Nothing fancy, mind¡ªjust a conductive surface and a dash of audacity. Holding my clawed hand just above the liquid, I focused on summoning a steady, low-voltage arc. A hiss rose almost immediately, followed by the tell-tale formation of tiny bubbles. Gas began to rise, delicate wisps carrying the volatile essence of the poison.


    Then, the coup de grace¡ªmy mana points started ticking upward. I breathed it in, and there it was: the sweet, heady buzz of success.


    ¡°HAH! IT FUCKING WORKED!¡±


    My heart pounded like a storm in my chest. IT WORKED, IT WORKED, IT WORKED! I¡¯d fretted about using too much lightning¡ªwhat if the heat caused uneven reactions, ruining the poison¡¯s potency or, worse, destroying the venom entirely? What if I¡¯d completely misunderstood the ingredients?


    But no, turns out all I needed was a pinch of confidence and a dash of faith in my own bloody genius.


    With a sharp intake of breath, I took to the skies, my wings slicing the air as I climbed higher. The shifting lenses of my upgraded eyes snapped into focus, offering me a crystal-clear view of the camp below. Cultists still milled about, their movements deliberate. From the looks of it, they were packing up¡ªpreparing, no doubt, for that infernal ritual of theirs.


    Perfect.


    A feral grin split my face wide¡ªso wide it might as well have torn me in half.


    I would tail them. I would find them. And I would ruin their bloody ritual so thoroughly they¡¯d regret having all five senses to comprehend it.

 Chapter 82: Unfavorable Odds

    Claws scraped gently against the unyielding stone, carving tiny grooves with their sharpened edges as I crept closer to the crest of a small hill. I shadowed the procession of cultists, the lot of them blissfully unaware of their tail. That Heralas fellow wasn¡¯t bluffing¡ªthey were hell-bent on wrapping up this ritual post-haste.


    Oddly enough, it seemed the system itself agreed with my suspicions. For the first time ever, it presented not just a challenge, but a proper penalty.


    MISSION ALERT!


    MISSION: Purge the Corruptors!


    OBJECTIVE: The vile cultists aim to desecrate this dungeon floor, distorting its energies to fuel their nefarious ascension and conjure something utterly abominable in the process. Halt their heresy. Wipe them from existence.


    TASK: Track the cultists. Destroy their altars. Slay their leaders before the ritual reaches completion.


    REWARD: Choice of a Tier 4 skill. Additional Technique Slot. Additional technique of choice. +10 to all stats, +5 Skill Points, +30 Morphogen per altar destroyed. Bonus reward for each cultist leader slain. Special reward for completely disrupting the ritual.


    PROGRESS: 0/3 Altars destroyed | 0/2 Leaders slain


    PENALTY: Failure will result in the destruction of the biome.


    ACCEPT: Y/N?


    The system¡¯s fury was palpable, and for the first time, I sensed a hint of¡­ vulnerability? Helplessness? It wasn¡¯t aimed at me, but it was unsettling nonetheless. By now, I¡¯d pieced together how it worked. The system could only issue these missions when a monster became aware of the interlopers or their schemes. It couldn¡¯t broadcast this plea to every hulking beast lurking in the shadows¡ªthere were limits to its power, as frustrating as that must¡¯ve been.


    My gaze flicked back to the cultists below as I unfurled my wings. With a silent leap, I plunged into a low glide, tailing them through the dim undergrowth. Their entourage wasn¡¯t hard to follow¡ªseveral other monsters had already noticed them and were throwing themselves at the group with reckless abandon.


    Poor fools. The cultists were absurdly well-prepared. Their warriors weren¡¯t just formidable¡ªthey were ruthless, each at least a yellow core. When even a Stage 4 stag-like beast charged in, it didn¡¯t last long enough to so much as scratch their ranks.


    They moved with clinical efficiency, dispatching attackers without breaking stride. Worse yet, an inner circle of them was acutely attuned to mana fluctuations, snuffing out any creature attempting to channel abilities before it could act.


    Whatever the monsters were doing, it was working well enough to keep the Elves preoccupied, though not nearly well enough to make a dent. Still, I kept my Air Sense sharp, one eye¡¯s shifting lenses tracking movements around me while the other dissected the details of the mission. It struck me how much faster my mind had become at processing this kind of information. Thinking about it all at once might¡¯ve seemed overwhelming, but in practice, it was seamless, natural¡ªlike breathing.


    The mission itself, though, was unlike anything I¡¯d encountered before. The destruction of the entire biome if the cultists succeeded? What in all the blazing hells were these bloody Elves plotting? What monstrosity were they summoning? And how in the name of all things unholy did they plan to ascend that pompous noble brat of theirs?


    I had questions. Too many questions. But, frankly, I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted the answers. All I wanted was to end this madness. This dungeon wasn¡¯t theirs to claim. Its energy¡ªits Prana¡ªwasn¡¯t theirs to exploit.


    They didn¡¯t belong here.


    Did they even understand the consequences of what they were doing? From what I¡¯d gathered, they relied on this place¡¯s resources¡ªtheir warriors grew strong battling its monsters. Why risk destroying that?


    No, it wasn¡¯t even theirs to destroy.


    A fierce, primal rage simmered in me at their arrogance. And beyond the anger, there was a creeping sense of wrongness. Whatever they were planning to do, whatever grotesque thing they aimed to summon, it wasn¡¯t just vile¡ªit was unnatural. Worse, I was sure it tied directly to elevating that noble brat to low-gold, just as the system hinted.


    The deeper I thought about it, the more uneasy I became. This was far bigger than I¡¯d expected. The scale of the biome alone was staggering¡ªstill impossible to fully grasp. Despite the fog-like hues that veiled half the horizon, I could tell: it was massive. Easily the size of four or five Caerlum capitals¡ªthe sprawling heart of the Aurelia Empire¡ªstacked together.


    And they planned to destroy all of it.


    A pit twisted in my stomach. Whatever this business was, it had to be stopped¡ªno hesitation, no quarter. I glared at them as they cut down yet more monsters, their blades dripping with cruelty. But for now, my hands were tied; I simply didn¡¯t have the strength.


    Sure, I could torch my arms again unleashing that monstrous torrent of lightning¡ªworth every drop of my hard-earned 50 mana¡ªbut doing so now would be idiotic at best. They¡¯d detect it immediately, and I¡¯d wager my claws they¡¯d prepared for it after my little stunt back at their camp. Besides, they were constantly on the move, which made scattering my toxins into an airborne poison an exercise in futility. No, patience was key. I needed to bide my time until they reached their destination¡ªthough the waiting gnawed at me something dreadful.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Still, I couldn¡¯t let anger take the reins. Rage is an unreliable co-pilot when sharp wits and a steady hand are required. So, I kept my head cool, even if my tail lashed with frustration, and the pursuit continued.


    Before long, the entourage arrived at a colossal cavern within the dungeon. The space had been freshly carved out, no doubt the work of Earth mages. Its sheer size was impressive, but what truly caught my eye was the shimmering frame of orichalcum¡ªplentiful and painstakingly arranged. My heart sank. These cultists were supposed to be in a hurry, and yet here they were, flaunting a fully erected barrier enchantment, reinforced with some of the most expensive materials imaginable. Typical.


    The ritualists were the first to enter, clad in their predictably ominous black robes, embroidered with enchanting runes. Among them was Heralas, who immediately began chatting with another figure¡ªthe one who¡¯d been with him before. What was his name? Elnor? Yes, that was it. Two leaders, then. At least I¡¯d identified the ringleaders of this infernal circus.


    Much as I yearned to storm in and put an end to their meddling, I knew the timing wasn¡¯t right. With a steadying breath, I quelled the itch in my claws for action and settled into a waiting game, patience proving the better part of valor.


    Soon enough, an opportunity presented itself. The barrier shimmered to life, sealing the cavern, but not all the warriors had ventured inside. A contingent remained outside, busy fending off the little tide of monsters foolish enough to throw themselves at their ranks.


    I backed off, taking stock. Their numbers were, shall we say, a tad excessive for a head-on approach. What I needed was more distraction¡ªand by distraction, I meant monsters. Conveniently, I¡¯d become something of a connoisseur in the art of baiting beasts.


    Using my Air Sense, I locked onto the largest breathing signatures in the vicinity and set to work. One by one, I drew them in. This time, while the defenders'' numbers were overwhelming, the plan still worked in my favor. Same tactic: bait the monsters until they noticed the cultists, then let the system¡ªboth theirs and mine¡ªhandle the chaos. The rewards for the mission were particularly tempting this time, so the moment those formidable Stage 4 beasts spotted the cultists, they dropped any interest in chasing after little old me.


    I repeated the process, gathering an eclectic assortment of monsters. My evasiveness and speed served me well, allowing me to amass a truly formidable horde in record time. Before long, the cultists¡¯ forces found themselves facing a surging mass of teeth, claws, and fury.


    And yet, frustratingly, it still wasn¡¯t enough. These Elves were infuriatingly clever and decisive. Not only had the cultists brought their full enforcer force, but their contracted delvers were here too, muddying the waters even further.


    The cultists¡¯ warriors, mages, and rangers¡ªall masked in black¡ªwere unmistakable, numbering nearly sixty. At the forefront were warriors and a smattering of delvers, distinguishable by their simpler leather armor. They all had peculiar shields. Green vines writhed over those shields, degrading any monster foolish enough to make contact. They formed an impenetrable bulwark, flanked by spear-wielding warriors whose weapons bore the same corrosive vine enchantment.


    Ten paces behind them, I spotted the control mages¡ªsimilar to the ones I¡¯d seen in their rituals. Thorny vines, earthen constructs, and shimmering barriers erupted from the ground at their command, corralling the dumb beasts and funneling them directly into the frontline¡¯s hungry blades. Some of the mages had the gall to reanimate fallen monsters, turning them against their kin.


    Further back loomed another unit of masked warriors, with that Arbiter Elnor guy planted squarely at their centre, surveying the chaos like a frosty monarch overseeing a disheveled court. His elite guards flanked him, coiled and ready to strike should the frontlines so much as wobble.


    A single sharp glance from him was all it took¡ªlike a silent conductor orchestrating carnage. They surged forward with precision, delivering punishing counterattacks to seal any breach in their defences.


    Elnor himself wielded a peculiar black blade, its menace as unsettling as the man. I never once saw him move¡ªnot properly¡ªbut every so often, he¡¯d draw the sword, and just like that, the most troublesome monster on the field would crumple, lifeless.


    He was undoubtedly a red core¡ªsame as Queen once was. Their power remained as inscrutable to me as the depths of the Abyss.


    Something about him screamed that he could dismantle my pitiful monster wave singlehandedly if he fancied it. Yet he wasn¡¯t. No, his gaze prowled the battlefield, clearly hunting for something¡ªor someone¡ªlikely me. Or whoever they thought might be pulling my strings. Meanwhile, under his relentless command, more and more monsters fell, their resistance crumbling like sandcastles against a tide.


    I gave it one last go, summoning as many stage-four beasts as I could muster. More came, drawn to the delicious scent of slaughter. But even their ferocity wasn¡¯t enough; the Elves were still winning. Efficient. Ruthless. Experienced. Clever. A whole bloody army.


    Against me.


    For the briefest moment, doubt clawed at my chest. But I smothered it, snuffing it out with the furious resolve bubbling in its place. No. The ritual should already be underway. It had to be. I unfastened the knot securing the glass case on my back¡ªthe case cradling my one true trump card¡ªand drew it free with deliberate care.


    The poison. My special concoction.


    Narrowing my focus to the cultists, I worked with precision. Slowly, I dripped the toxic brew onto the metal rim of the case, one claw guiding the flow with the delicacy of a surgeon, the other coaxing out faint crackles of lightning to atomize the droplets.


    I unfurled my wings, sensing the air currents and directing the invisible, lethal vapour towards the Elves with quiet finesse. As for the monsters still locked in their futile skirmish? They¡¯d serve as unwilling collateral. A necessary sacrifice. I whispered an apology to my fellow creatures for the torment to come, though it didn¡¯t slow my hand. Some losses, regrettable as they might be, were inevitable.


    Changing positions, I let the toxins seep into every corner of the battlefield. And when the first signs of confusion gripped the combatants¡ªmonsters staggering, frontline warriors stumbling¡ªI knew I¡¯d succeeded.


    This poison was an elegant kind of wickedness. Bizarre, perhaps, but as brilliant as any of Lotte¡¯s outlandish recipes. It inverted its victim¡¯s senses into a tangled web of chaos. Sight became touch, touch became sound. It was sheer, unrelenting torment, a symphony of sensory disarray.


    The battlefield was ripe for my entrance.


    It was time.

 Chapter 83: A Phantom in the Chaos

    Maelric held the line, unyielding against the encroaching tide of beasts. Poor bastards didn¡¯t stand a chance¡ªor so he told himself. Yet, he couldn''t ignore the disconcerting surge in their numbers. It was as if something¡ªor someone¡ªwas rallying them, directing the grotesque horde straight to their doorstep. His shield, steadfast and enchanted with corrosive magic, absorbed the brunt of their assault.


    A particularly audacious monkey-like creature sprang at him. One well-timed deflection saw the shield¡¯s enchantment kick in, corroding the unfortunate beast on contact. A heartbeat later, a spear whistled past Maelric¡¯s ear, burying itself neatly in the creature¡¯s skull.


    He might have offered his comrade a cheeky grin if not for the masks obscuring their faces. Ah, yes. The masks. A minor obstacle, but he grinned anyway. The battle raged on, relentless, and with Arbiter Elnor¡¯s gaze boring into them like a hawk sizing up its prey, Maelric knew better than to grow complacent. No, the man hadn¡¯t moved an inch, and Maelric¡¯s gut twisted with suspicion. This had the trappings of a test, didn¡¯t it? A secret examination, perhaps? Surely, the Order was sizing them up, selecting the best and brightest to serve alongside the nobility at last.


    The thought fueled his resolve, and his grin widened. Oh, today was not the day to disappoint. Sword in hand, mana coursing through his veins like liquid fire, he surged forward. His blade shimmered with flickers of corrosive energy as it plunged into yet another monster. A shield bash sent another sprawling, only for the spears of his comrades to finish the job. The vanguard held firm.


    But then¡ªsomething shifted. The monsters ahead grew erratic, their movements frenzied. They clawed at the earth, the trees, and even each other, their screeches morphing into something unearthly. Maelric¡¯s brow furrowed as he glanced left and right, unease prickling at his spine. And then it hit him.


    A bitter, metallic taste flooded his senses¡ªa sound, yet not quite a sound, like the scream of a dying melody. He staggered back, his shield slipping from his grasp and shattering upon the blood-soaked ground. His vision swam, pupils contracting to eerie, glowing pinpricks as a cold, numbing sensation crawled up his throat.


    He gasped¡ªan involuntary, jagged noise that tasted of blood and frost. Clutching his neck, he gagged, his breath billowing out in icy plumes. Whatever was happening, it wasn¡¯t natural. And it wasn¡¯t stopping.


    Maelric staggered.


    His breath hitched, each inhale jagged, fractured. The battlefield twisted around him, splintering into shards of chaos that slammed into his senses. The air itself was wrong¡ªheavy, cloying, a suffocating blanket laced with iron and bile.


    Snarls and howls blended into a vile cacophony, a sound not meant for mortal ears. It crawled beneath his skin, digging icy claws into his nerves. He shook his head, desperate to clear it, but the world refused to settle. Each attempt only smeared his vision further into jagged, bleeding shapes.


    Metal screamed¡ªnot the clash of blades, but something sharper, brighter. A piercing note exploded in his mind, white-hot streaks carving through the blood-soaked haze. He blinked hard, but the trails burned on, searing against the chaos. Too much. Far too much.


    The stench¡ªsweat, blood, molten iron¡ªhowled through his senses like a storm, unrelenting and suffocating. His hands shot to his head, desperate for relief that refused to come. His boots skidded, the ground beneath him no longer solid but a sticky mire pulling him down with each step.


    "Maelric! Hold the line!"


    The voice sliced through the din, cold and sharp as ice, cutting into his skin like invisible razors. He turned, struggling against the tide of nausea. His vision swam, catching only distorted smudges of crimson and violet, colors that pulsed and throbbed, pressing against his skull.


    His sword felt wrong¡ªforeign, grotesque in his hand. The hilt scraped like jagged stone against his fingers, every movement sending electric pain stabbing up his arm. He clenched his jaw, but his teeth bit down on the taste of glass, bitter and grinding, splintering through his mind.


    A blur. Movement. No¡ªmore than sight, a smell. Burning flesh. Acidic venom. Needles stabbing his face. A beast loomed before him, massive and grotesque, its gaping maw dripping poison. Instinct screamed, driving his blade forward in a blind arc.


    The strike connected¡ªor did it? His arm reverberated with a muted thud, the sensation dulled and alien. No sound confirmed his blow, no feedback except the maddening, hollow vibration crawling through his bones. Was it enough? He didn¡¯t know. He couldn¡¯t know.


    His chest burned, veins running cold with jagged fire. His knees buckled, and he crashed to the earth, gasping, choking on air that felt like sludge. Each breath pulled in grey clouds, coiling tight around him. Each exhale sent a tremor through the ground, a low, menacing hum that rattled his teeth.


    He clutched his head, a scream clawing its way out of his throat. "MAKE IT STOP!"


    Writhing. Thrashing. Time lost all meaning.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Then, silence.


    The world flipped upside down, the chaos collapsing into a singular, horrifying clarity. His vision locked onto two baleful, slitted eyes, madness swirling in their flickering depths. A distortion, shimmering and unreal, stood before him.


    His body was gone¡ªno pain, no weight. Just the faint awareness of his head, his thoughts scattering into the void. And yet, for the briefest moment, there was peace.


    Then, nothing.


    ***


    The poison¡¯s effect was slow to manifest¡ªfair play, given it was airborne. It needed a touch of time to seep into the delicate systems of these Elves. But once it did¡­ oh, the results were nothing short of magnificent. With my Technique active, I became a flickering blur, darting through the cacophony of screeching monsters and screaming Elves. My claws found another whimpering, masked Elf, swiftly granting him release from his misery.


    Notifications chimed merrily, tallying my kills, but I gave them no mind. My focus was set firmly on the prize: Elnor. Oh, yes, the illustrious leader had twigged that something was amiss. Of course, by then, it was a touch too late. For the first time, I saw his icy composure crack, his mask slipping as he bellowed orders to his faltering warriors. But with every breath they drew, more of them succumbed to my poison. It was delightful to watch.


    The healers were present, but to counter a poison of this calibre? They¡¯d need a personal touch¡ªquite literally¡ªto diagnose and purge it with their magic. A shame for them, really, as I had no intention of letting them live long enough to try. One by one, I tore through the vanguard, striking swiftly while Elnor flailed amidst the chaos. He barked orders, desperate to corral his crumbling ranks, but the pandemonium was simply too perfect. My little concoction had worked wonders.


    Four of the vanguard had fallen already, and Elnor remained blissfully unaware of my precise movements, the chaos serving as my perfect cloak. Behind him, the mages began to falter, their erratic movements betraying that the poison had wormed its way into their systems. Another vanguard fighter lunged at me, but with a deft dodge and a flick of my claws, I silenced their screams with a neat slice to the throat. Justice served.


    My tail lashed out next, coiling around a feline monstrosity, pulling the thrashing creature closer until I ended its wailing torment. Flamethrower? Too ostentatious for this little dance. Echo Claw Swipe sufficed to make short work of squishy Elven necks, and I carved my way through the chaos with elegant precision. Every second, the disarray deepened, and I simply kept to my work. Methodical. Unrelenting.


    The chaos surged like a tide, swallowing everything in its path. By now, nearly half the Elves and an equal number of monsters had succumbed to my poison¡¯s tender embrace, their senses betraying them¡ªswapping, shifting, spiraling into disarray. And it would only grow worse.


    They toppled in droves: five, seven, nine. Another vanguard crumpled before me, and my sights settled on the first healer. He was hunched over, desperately trying to mend a screeching, writhing Elf. Beside him, a Delver mage stood guard, her piercing blue eyes locking onto me as I approached.


    Before she could summon her mana, I was upon her. A shield shimmered into existence, predictable as clockwork. But I passed through it as though it were mist, a phantom in motion. Her widening eyes betrayed her disbelief, but no words escaped her lips¡ªonly the wet choke of my claws piercing her throat.


    The healer screamed, stumbling backward, but before I could pounce, my perception spun into disarray. Without hesitation, I dashed twice in rapid succession, instincts screaming. A razor-thin arc of wire-like energy hissed through the air above me, slicing cleanly through the monsters behind. It didn¡¯t stop until it reached the treeline, severing everything in its path.


    I knew who was responsible. Elnor. The game was up¡ªhe¡¯d finally clocked my presence. I had no inkling of his chosen Path, only fragmented clues: monsters felled by clean, surgical strikes, heads, claws, and limbs lopped off with eerie precision.


    A part of me idly wished the poison might touch him as well, but if he¡¯d achieved the Red Core? That was wishful thinking at best. The leap from Yellow to Red was transformative¡ªa reconstruction of the body itself. Constitution, strength, mana¡ªall amplified to staggering heights. No, poison was likely a pipe dream where he was concerned.


    His gaze burned with seething hatred as he unsheathed his blade once more, the metal gleaming ominously. I didn¡¯t wait for the inevitable. The next wave of flashing steel erupted, and I darted away, using more of his precious Elves as unwilling shields. Grinning, I slashed through another of his warriors, their blood mingling with the chaos around us.


    Elnor¡¯s movements faltered as I ducked behind another of his warriors. So, even in this pandemonium, he hesitated at the risk of friendly fire. Intriguing. Useful. Or so I thought¡ªuntil another arc of silvery light swept sideways, threading through his comrades to chase me down. Clever. Metal magic, no doubt, and with that infernal Red Core strength backing it up, he was leagues beyond me. I had no delusions of grandeur; facing him directly was a fool¡¯s errand.


    All I needed was to lure him far enough from his post so I could slip past and phase through their barrier. Once inside, I¡¯d unleash my lightning magic to reduce their altars to rubble. Time wasn¡¯t on my side, so as soon as his gaze locked onto me, I made the only sensible choice.


    I RAN.


    Wings unfurled as I dove into the underbrush, dodging five rapid flashes of silvery arcs that sliced indiscriminately through the chaos. I couldn¡¯t even pinpoint where Elnor was amidst the carnage; the arcs seemed to come from everywhere. No choice but to move. I dashed again and again in rapid succession, my form a streak of distortion, stamina dipping dangerously low. Activating the reservoir brought it back to 60, buying me a few precious moments.


    Eventually, the slashes ceased. Had I lost him? Excellent. With Elnor lured out of position, sneaking past those pesky Elven bastards would be a breeze. I could almost taste success.


    Yes¡ª


    ¡°I certainly don¡¯t know who you are or how you¡¯re puppeteering this creature.¡±


    The gravelly voice cut through the air like a dagger, freezing me mid-step. My eyes widened. Just at the edge of my vision, in a small clearing, stood a warrior clad in black. A runic sword rested in his hand, faintly pulsing with menace.


    ¡°But if you don¡¯t stop fucking with my body and mana this instant,¡± he snarled, his tone dripping with venom, ¡°I swear on Selene¡¯s name, I¡¯ll tear you apart and hang you up like a fucking trophy.¡±


    Elnor.


    His piercing eyes weren¡¯t on me, though. They were fixed just over my wings, his movements unnervingly deliberate as he advanced.


    ¡°Show yourself,¡± he demanded, his voice a low growl, ¡°before I make you.¡±

 Interlude 2.5: Gweneth Draycotte

    There was a peculiar charm to this forsaken continent that had captivated Gwen when she first arrived.


    The people here had such fragile faith, like spun sugar dissolving at the first hint of warmth. Their gods had remained silent for centuries, yet the moment something sinister Whispered honeyed promises through a keyhole, they swore it was divine. Pity they failed to notice the stench of doom wafting through the cracks.


    When the crown, the nobility, and their precious clergy began to fester from within, their souls hollowed out and replaced with something grotesque, it was only a matter of time before the entire continent crumbled like a damp biscuit.


    Take the man before her, for example. He still clung to blind faith in his goddess¡ªthough whatever was left of that devotion had long since rotted to the core. Like the others, he couldn''t see the rot, couldn''t smell it, couldn''t feel the weight of it dragging him down.


    And Gwen? She wasn¡¯t even visible to him. He thrust his sword ahead, oblivious to her presence¡ªbehind him, beneath him, everywhere. The eye peering through a tree¡¯s knothole, the grains of sand locking his boots in place, the wind gripping his hand. Even the mana itself, pausing, twisting, coiling¡ªher domain, her essence. It all moved at her whim, and oh, how it delighted her to dance.


    ¡°The wind... ah, did you hear it?¡± Gwen smiled, her voice dripping with mockery, as the man swung his blade toward the little dragonling. Yet his precious metal mana betrayed him again, refusing to obey his will. She cradled the tiny black-and-white creature in her hands, the badger clutching a bag of monster skin filled with cores, its beady eyes anxious as it watched the battle unfold.


    ¡°Curious, isn¡¯t it?¡± Gwen mused, tilting her head. ¡°What did the little dragonling see in you to make you her first supplicant? Personally, I¡¯d have gone for someone a touch... scalier.¡± She smiled again, her gaze fixed on the dragonling as arcs of silver mana streaked toward her, only for most to miss their mark.


    The ground answered Gwen¡¯s command, turning his steps sluggish, disrupting his rhythm, twisting, merging, and rendering his careful footwork utterly pointless. His frustration was palpable, his strikes increasingly erratic, and Gweneth didn¡¯t even bother learning his name. It wasn¡¯t worth the effort.


    Of course, despite her meddling, the man still had the upper hand against the dragonling. A low red-core¡ªnothing extraordinary outside this wretched, suppressed land, where progress crawled at a snail¡¯s pace¡ªbut here? Grit alone had dragged him to this level, and she supposed that was... admirable. In a tragically naive sort of way. Still, to her, watching him wield his mana was like watching a toddler fumble with a sword. She might have felt sorry for him if it weren¡¯t so thoroughly entertaining.


    The man roared again, demanding she show herself. Half of her was tempted to oblige¡ªoh, how delightful it would be to grant him a final wish. She could trap him in her nightmare realm, let horrors skin him alive, ever so slowly, while his physical body remained intact. A poetic end, really. But alas, she wasn¡¯t ready to step into the light just yet.


    Oh, her true quarry was infinitely more captivating. Gwen¡¯s gaze slid to the cave, its pitiful excuse for a barrier standing as defiant as wet parchment. Somewhere within, an elven noble was on the verge of summoning something delightfully monstrous, and Gwen had no intention of spooking it before it arrived. Imagine the tragedy if her snack caught wind of her presence and fled. Poor Gwen, left famished once more¡ªutterly heart-wrenching. Sob.


    The voice in her head chimed in, as unwelcome as ever.


    [Must you always do this, Gwen?]


    ¡°Oh, Kaelen, your disapproval is like music to my ears,¡± she quipped, her lips curving into a predatory grin. As if to mock his incessant nagging, she twirled her finger lazily, summoning a thread of sand to snake up the man¡¯s boot. ¡°It¡¯s harmless fun. I¡¯m merely... entertaining myself.¡±


    [Harmless? You¡¯ve been ¡®entertaining yourself¡¯ for an entire day, doing the precise opposite of what you promised when you demanded I let you swap places in Lithrindel. You¡¯re noisy. And inefficient.]


    Griffins. They were as joyless as a funeral in a rainstorm. Kaelen¡¯s tone carried the clipped precision of someone who would alphabetize their sighs if given the chance. Gwen could practically see the sharp lines of his ever-present frown.


    ¡°Noisy? Me? I¡¯m offended.¡± She sighed dramatically, her tone dripping with theatrical woe. ¡°There isn¡¯t a wyvern alive more subtle than I. Truly, your lack of faith wounds me.¡± She paused, her grin sharpening. ¡°Besides, you fret too much. This little morsel couldn¡¯t scream loud enough to summon help even if I planted him on the Order¡¯s bell tower. And admit it, Kaelen¡ªyou¡¯re curious, aren¡¯t you? A dragonling. Here. On this forsaken continent. Not some shapeshifting beast-kin impostor, but the real thing. A supposed father, memories tampered and muddled. Hiding among humans under the guise of a temporary shifter enchantment.¡±


    [Erryn would be ecstatic to know a new-born of her kind has turned up, but, Gwen, focus. The summoning¡ª]Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t forgotten,¡± she cut in, her slitted eyes gleaming as she tilted her head towards the cave. The air was heavy with unnatural vibrations, the fabric of reality thinning¡ªwhatever lay beyond, it was stirring, and it promised to be delectable. Her voice dropped to a sinister purr. ¡°I¡¯m waiting for it, too. Tell me, though¡ªdon¡¯t you think it¡¯s poetic? Lithrindel¡¯s nobles are blind, drunk on their supposed divinity, serving as nothing more than golden chalices for this ravenous abomination. Deliciously ironic, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    [Poetic? Spare me. Aurelia¡¯s decay is inevitable, especially after your ¡®efforts.¡¯ Three vessels, Gwen¡ªthree. Dispatched from the town you were supposed to be monitoring before you dumped the work on me.]


    ¡°I was... playing the long game.¡±


    [You were stalling.]


    ¡°I was not!¡±


    [And now you¡¯re stalling again.]


    ¡°And now you¡¯re insufferable,¡± she snapped, dismissing him with a flick of her wrist. The vine around the man¡¯s boot yanked his sword sideways, sending him careening into a nearby boulder with a satisfying crunch.


    Her attention flicked to the dragonling. The little creature had seized the moment, darting forward to swipe at the man, leaving a gash across his armour. Not bad. Smart, too¡ªthe dragonling quickly retreated before the man¡¯s tedious metal mana could counter. Gwen watched, enraptured, her grin widening.


    ¡°What are the odds she¡¯ll win?¡± she mused.


    [Your kind¡¯s devotion and obsession with dragons is as predictable as it is misguided. Stop meddling. Pick her up, take her somewhere safe, and figure out how on earth she ended up here. But she¡¯s not your concern right now.]


    ¡°Oh, but she is,¡± Gwen pouted. ¡°I won¡¯t rob her of this experience. Besides, watching her is quite diverting while I wait for the real prize to ripen.¡± Her gaze slid back to the man, who staggered upright, blood staining his armour from his own sword mana¡¯s recoil.


    The voice in her head paused, a rare but welcome reprieve, before it returned with its usual insufferable persistence.


    [Could I, perhaps, persuade you to abandon your next... meal? Before its essence displaces yet another innocent soul?]


    ¡°Innocent?¡± Gwen let out a low, mocking laugh. ¡°That noble brat reeks of entitlement, not innocence. But now that you¡¯ve mentioned it, perhaps I should leave a tether in his mind. Just imagine¡ªhis final moments, when his soul realizes the path to power was a lie. Devoured and replaced, all while his body marches on like a puppet. Oh, I could even refine it into a new torture technique for the Nightmare Realm!¡± Her smile widened. Sharp. Dangerous.


    [You¡¯re hopeless.]


    ¡°And you¡¯re dull.¡±


    [Well, this ¡®dull¡¯ griffin is cleaning up your messes. Again. Try not to unravel the entire framework I¡¯ve established, will you? Remember the next step.]


    ¡°I haven¡¯t forgotten,¡± Gwen said, her tone dripping with mockery as she squished the little badger softly with her fingers. ¡°Pursuit of pleasure doesn¡¯t equate to incompetence, Kaelen. And when it comes to the next phase, I¡¯m far more suited to the task than you.¡±


    [...Reluctant as I am to admit it, you might have a point. Just finish your meal and move on¡ªyou¡¯re already running late.]


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry,¡± Gwen purred, her forked tongue flicking over her fangs as she turned her attention back to the cave. Anticipation writhed through her like a serpent, her scales shifting faintly. ¡°I¡¯d hate to disappoint you.¡±


    The voice in her head blessedly fell silent, leaving Gwen to revel in the spectacle before her: the little dragonling¡¯s battle.


    Was Kaelen right about wyverns¡¯ instinctive devotion to their creators, the dragons? Perhaps there was a glimmer of truth in it. Gwen couldn¡¯t deny a peculiar, detached sort of protectiveness toward the audacious creature. It wasn¡¯t all-consuming, but it thrummed faintly, like a melody played just out of reach. Watching the dragonling, whether she was experimenting with magic, rallying monsters, stealing shiny things, or brewing poisons to sow delightful chaos on a battlefield, stirred something strange in Gwen¡ªa sensation she hadn¡¯t felt in ages.


    It was ridiculous, really. Something about the little one¡¯s sheer audacity made her cold heart flutter. Barely two weeks old, and already an embodiment of raw chaos. If humans compared it to anything, it might be the way they adored their cats¡ªmesmerized by their bold mischief, grotesque little hunts, and obliviously daring escapades. Every action the dragonling took was tinged with that irresistible charm.


    But oh, how Gwen wanted to snatch her up, this feisty, scrappy little creature. Instead, she restrained herself, fingers twitching as she subtly manipulated the elven warrior¡¯s footing. A flick here, a stumble there¡ªjust enough to keep the dance going.


    The fabric of reality thinned further. It was almost time.


    Yet despite Gwen¡¯s interference, it was clear the dragonling was losing ground. Blood dripped from her wounds¡ªdeep gashes etched across her scales. One wing was shredded, her claws chipped, her tail severed. Exhaustion visibly weighed her down. Though the elf hadn¡¯t landed a fatal blow, his relentless assault was wearing her thin.


    Gwen¡¯s fingers flexed, her restraint tested to its limits. She refused to fully intervene, instead watching and offering the occasional nudge. It wasn¡¯t enough.


    The elf¡¯s sword finally found its mark, slicing through the dragonling¡¯s legs and incapacitating her. She crumpled, her small body trembling with exertion. The badger in Gwen¡¯s hands shifted anxiously, letting out a worried chirp.


    The elven warrior, confident in his victory, loomed over the downed dragonling. His voice boomed, mocking her pitiful interference and taunting her to show herself. He raised his sword for the killing blow.


    ¡°Ah,¡± Gwen breathed, her lips curling into a smile. ¡°Too bad for you.¡±


    With a rumble, the soil coiled around the little creature, enveloping her in a divine cocoon. The elf¡¯s sword descended, but the moment it struck the protective shell, he was flung backward, crashing against the trees with twice the force.


    Gwen clapped her hands, her grin widening. ¡°Splendid! A draw... for now,¡± she mused, her gaze lingering on the cocoon. But not for long. Once the dragonling emerged from her evolution, the scales would tip decisively in her favor.


    She glanced at the thinning fabric of reality. Eight minutes until it tore completely. The dragonling¡¯s evolution would complete in two. Plenty of time for the next act of this delectable drama.


    Gwen¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡°Oh, little one,¡± she purred. ¡°SHOW ME MORE!¡±

 Chapter 84: Fourth Dimension

    I gave myself a sharp pinch. A phantom jolt zipped up my arm and fizzled out.


    Hmm.


    Tried again.


    Hmm.


    ¡°Will you stop that?¡±


    ¡°Just checking if I¡¯m still alive!¡± I retorted, giving my other arm a good squeeze for balance.


    ¡°And for the hundredth time, you are!¡±


    I threw my doppelganger an exasperated glare. She, as per usual, was perched against her favourite table, fiddling with something caustic and far too smug for my liking. I was half-dead out here, and she had the audacity to smirk.


    ¡°You¡¯re infuriatingly composed for someone meant to be me,¡± I muttered, collapsing onto the cold marble floor like a sack of regrets. Oh, Thalador, I was knackered. After dodging that bastard¡¯s attacks with all the grace of a drunken lizard, nothing had gone right¡ªescape, fight, survive? Absolutely none of it.


    ¡°I¡¯m not you.¡± She raised a brow with that patronising air she¡¯d perfected. ¡°Not entirely, at any rate. Surely, that¡¯s sunk in by now?¡±


    I knew it, of course. Didn¡¯t mean I wasn¡¯t going to keep this conversation rolling. After that debacle of a fight, this banter was practically medicinal.


    ¡°Right. You¡¯re just some conjured figment of the system, sent to keep me company at these riveting afterlife soir¨¦es.¡±


    ¡°Oh, please. If this were the afterlife, they¡¯d have chucked you out already¡ªfor atrocious manners.¡±


    ¡°And you for being utterly useless!¡±


    She clutched her chest in mock offence. ¡°Oh, the sting! Truly, I am undone!¡±


    I groaned, flopping onto my back again before deciding to slither along the slick floor instead of walking. Why bother? It was shiny, slippery, and my legs were done. ¡°I¡¯m half dragon, half corpse, and completely out of patience. This time, I mean it.¡±


    ¡°And yet, here you are, having a lovely chat with yourself.¡± She chuckled, swirling some dubious liquid that released a tang so sharp it made my mouth water. Not that I¡¯d show it. ¡°Let me guess. You want me to help with whatever harebrained scheme you¡¯re cooking up for when you inevitably face that bloodthirsty elf waiting outside your evolution chamber. Or perhaps you¡¯re after some reassurance that you¡¯ll pull through. Maybe you want confirmation that your wings and legs will grow back. Or is it that you¡¯re not entirely useless without them?¡±


    I shot her a sour look.


    Well, yes, I was curious about what evolution might do to mortal wounds. I¡¯d only ever seen something similar happen to that blasted feathered snake when those elves ambushed. So close to seeing the answer for myself before¡ªbloody elves. Always ruining everything.


    But I didn¡¯t care for how she¡¯d framed it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need reassurance,¡± I said, with a tone that would¡¯ve been convincing had it not betrayed the slightest wobble.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡± She chuckled, because of course she did. She was me, after all¡ªshe knew exactly what strings to pull. ¡°Because let¡¯s face it, the last thing you remember is dying.¡±


    With an infuriating nonchalance, she swirled the tangy liquid in her flask and strode towards me, heels tapping a rhythm on the floor. She lowered herself to sit beside my pathetic, sprawled form.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    I shifted upright, leaning against her without even thinking about it. ¡°I wish,¡± I muttered, staring blankly at the endless white that was the roof of this weird lab. ¡°I got ahead of myself. Thought I could outsmart an actual red core. Too cocky for my own good. And now? Now I¡¯m basically tied to that guy till I¡¯m done.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t change what you did, though,¡± she said, swirling her potion as it shimmered and changed colour. ¡°You fought¡ªfor yourself, for this dungeon you¡¯ve started calling home. Maybe for a bit of petty revenge against those cultists. But for the first time, you had power, real power, to do what you thought was right. And you almost pulled it off.¡±


    ¡°Almost,¡± she giggled.


    ¡°Yeah, almost,¡± I echoed with a sigh. ¡°Doesn¡¯t change the fact that I nearly got my head chopped off. Hell, maybe I still will, once I wake up. Although¡­¡± I sat up straighter, frowning as a thought struck me. ¡°It was weird, fighting that guy.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± she prompted, all faux curiosity.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, thinking back to the battle. ¡°It was like he was tripping over his own feet¡ªor his mana. He was still leagues ahead of me, don¡¯t get me wrong, but half the time it felt like his body wasn¡¯t listening to him. Do you think the poison worked on him too?¡±


    ¡°Would it now?¡± she asked, her tone light.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted, shaking my head. ¡°He was a red core, already through the body reconstruction phase. My poison shouldn¡¯t have done anything, not to someone like that. But it doesn¡¯t explain why he fought like a drunkard. Kept yelling about some mysterious benefactor, demanding they stop messing with his body and mana.¡±


    ¡°Maybe your incessant lies summoned a benefactor from thin air,¡± she smirked, far too pleased with herself.


    ¡°Oh, gee, thanks,¡± I shot back, rolling my eyes. ¡°As if anyone would help a random monster like me. But¡­ first there was something messing with their divinations, and now this. Maybe someone else is out there, pulling strings. Then again, divination¡¯s always been the unpredictable sort, hasn¡¯t it? You¡¯d have to be mad to base a plan on a hunch.¡±


    She kept swirling her concoction, a smile tugging at her lips that practically screamed mischief. She was itching for me to bite the bait, and I was knackered enough to oblige her.


    ¡°What¡¯s that, then?¡± I gestured lazily at the flask, the very picture of deadpan curiosity.


    Her grin broadened, all teeth and Cheshire charm. ¡°Oh, this?¡± she cooed, holding up the flask like some mad alchemist unveiling their pi¨¨ce de r¨¦sistance. The liquid inside churned between a chipper, sunshine yellow and a deeply ominous black.


    ¡°Just a little something I threw together while you were wittering on. Tetrodotoxin cocktail¡ªneurotoxin extraordinaire. One of nature¡¯s nastiest little numbers, courtesy of some cheerful sea critters with murderous intent. A splash of cyanogenic glycosides for depth¡ªyou know, the cherry-pit poison. And for a touch of flair, microdoses of aconitine. That¡¯s monkshood venom, love. Heart-stoppingly lethal and just the right amount of spicy. Oh, and it boosts your maximum mana by ten. Brilliant, innit?¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    I blinked at her. ¡°Right. So it¡¯s bottled death. With¡­ spice and a mana upgrade?¡±


    ¡°Not just any death,¡± she leaned in with a mad glint in her eyes. ¡°This beauty has the rare distinction of being absurdly toxic and tasting absolutely sublime. Sweet, with citrusy undertones and a kick that¡¯ll leave you breathless. Literally.¡± She cackled at her own joke, clearly chuffed. ¡°Shame most people only get to drink it once. For obvious reasons.¡±


    ¡°Oh, hysterical,¡± I deadpanned, though my gaze remained fixed on the flask. ¡°Although, the mana boost does sound pretty lush. Can I have it?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then why on earth are you carrying it?¡±


    ¡°For science,¡± she said primly, giving the flask another swirl as if it were a fine vintage. Then, in a conspiratorial whisper, ¡°Actually, now that I think of it, you¡¯re in luck. The System¡¯s eyes are elsewhere.¡± With a sly flourish, she slid the flask toward me, as if avoiding detection by some omniscient overseer. ¡°Go on, then. Drink up.¡±


    My stomach betrayed me with a growl before I could retort. Of course it did. And, well, I was poison-proof now, wasn¡¯t I? Besides, every poison had its¡­ distinctive charm.


    ¡°You¡¯re not seriously considering it, are you?¡± she teased, handing me the flask with all the gravitas of a queen bestowing a royal sceptre.


    Oh, I absolutely was.


    Rolling my eyes for good measure, I grabbed the flask and gave it a sniff. A sweet, intoxicating aroma wafted up¡ªcandied lemons with a tantalising edge of something wilder, sharper. My mouth watered despite the very loud, sensible part of my brain screaming objections.


    ¡°Well, bottoms up,¡± I muttered, and took a swig.


    The taste hit me like a lightning bolt. First, a flood of sweetness, rich and golden, followed by a tangy zip that raced down my throat like a live wire. Then the spice¡ªsharp, biting, and utterly electrifying. For a brief, glorious moment, I felt as if I¡¯d swallowed pure, unfiltered energy. My entire body thrummed with it, every nerve alight.


    I lowered the flask, blinking as the surge of vitality coursed through me. ¡°HOLY SHIT! THALADOR¡¯S BEARD! WHAT WAS THAT?!?¡±


    I leapt to my feet, energy practically bursting from my seams. Jumping around like a deranged jackrabbit, the SHEER vitality surging through me¡ªnot just physical energy, but a mental sharpness too. It was as if a switch had been flipped and every neuron in my brain decided to show up for work.


    ¡°Whoa,¡± I exhaled, half in awe. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s insane. Feels like I just drank sunshine. And maybe chased it with a thunderstorm.¡±


    She leaned back, arms folded, looking altogether too smug. ¡°Told you. A little death with a side of zing. The ultimate pick-me-up for a dragon running on fumes.¡±


    I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, the energy coursing through me making it impossible to stand still. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined drinking poison could feel this good. Then again, maybe I had. I¡¯d always craved those wild, dangerous flavours, hadn¡¯t I? With my half-human limitations, I¡¯d been cautious. Too cautious. But alchemy? Oh, alchemy was a siren call to madness, ....and that was completely normal¡­ Totally normal!!


    ¡°I think,¡± I said, bouncing on the balls of my feet like an over-caffeinated lunatic, ¡°I might actually be going mad.¡± My gaze darted to the bookshelf in front of me. Evolution manuals. Finally, I had the mental energy¡ªand none of the existential gloom¡ªto strategize how to survive the rather furious elf I¡¯d recently annoyed. ¡°But¡­ thanks, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± she said, her grin sly and insufferably self-satisfied. ¡°Or do. To that elf, perhaps. Let him know you powered up on something capable of wiping out a village. Should make for smashing last words.¡±


    ¡°Noted.¡±


    I handed the flask back as I reached for the first manual on the shelf, already flipping it open. ¡°Dying is officially not on today¡¯s agenda.¡± I glanced back at her with a grin, defiant for the very first time. ¡°Watch me get out of this in one piece.¡±


    ***


    I began leafing through the tomes, one by one. Even the drab grey and jaundiced yellow ones, belonging to the fourth stage of evolution, had a surprising weight to them. Yet, no matter how much I tried to focus, my gaze inevitably drifted to the five rainbow-bound tomes. A single glance at my smirking doppelganger¡ªalready busy concocting yet another potion¡ªreminded me why I shouldn¡¯t even entertain the thought of those forbidden fruits of power. And yet¡­ the curiosity gnawed at me.


    Why were they off-limits? What about the power of sun and light was deemed so perilous for me? What hidden snares lay within their promises? I¡¯d pondered it often, but as usual, I found myself staring at the same brick wall of ignorance.


    Still, times had changed. I had changed. My view of the world had grown sharper, more daring. The world itself, vast and writhing with danger and possibility, hadn¡¯t grown any kinder¡ªbut I had power now. Enough to seek my own answers. My little quest for understanding was far from over.


    I pressed on, flipping through evolution options.


    The grey-covered tomes held a few promising choices, though none that truly sparked my interest. The yellow ones were marginally better¡ªthere were a few standouts, true¡ªbut nothing that felt me. But some good options nonetheless.


    [Stonebark Sentinel]


    Description: Stalwart defender, emphasizing durability and defense, rooted in the strength of the land.


    ? Stat Bonuses per Level: +8 Durability, +2 Strength.


    ? New Organ: Geostructural Core ¨C Absorbs mana to reinforce skeleton and scales with mineral density, enhancing physical resistance.


    ? Ability Unlock: Immovable Bastion ¨C Temporarily anchors user, increasing defense, reducing knockback, and boosting regeneration.


    ? Affinity: Earth Affinity Unlocked.


    ? Mana Core: Intermediate Monster Core ¨C Increases mana storage capacity.


    ? Skills: Available for acquisition.


    The cover featured a colossal dragon, its scales massive and impenetrable. Yet there was a sluggishness to its design¡ªnone of the sleek, sinuous grace I admired. It screamed of endurance, but I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if it might weigh down my agility. Not that it mattered; I wasn¡¯t about to pick it. Still, I was surprised to see such a defense-oriented evolution. I couldn¡¯t recall earning any achievements in that vein.


    The next few entries, however, were far more intriguing.


    [Wraithwing Stalker]


    Description: Stealth-focused evolution blending dark mana manipulation with aerial precision.


    ? Stat Bonuses per Level: +4 Intelligence, +1 Will, +1 Durability, +4 Strength.


    ? New Organ: Umbral Membranes ¨C Wing and body tissues infused with dark mana for silent flight and temporary shadow cloaking.


    ? Ability Unlock: Phantom Strikes ¨C Stamina-based attacks may echo into the Shadow Dimension, creating delayed impacts.


    ? Affinity: Dark Affinity Unlocked.


    ? Mana Core: Intermediate Monster Core ¨C Increases mana storage capacity.


    ? Skills: Available for acquisition.


    Something about this one caught my eye. The abilities hinted at interactions with a ¡°dimension,¡± and it wasn¡¯t just this tome. Several other options in the yellow section whispered of a ¡°shadow dimension,¡± with my attacks subtly affecting it. Most seemed tied to unlocking dark mana, but things got properly bizarre when I ventured into the red-bound tomes.


    First one was something called a [Veil Warden]


    Description: Predator thriving at the boundary between the physical and the intangible.


    ? Stat Bonuses per Level: +4 Strength, +5 Intelligence, +3 Will, +2 Durability.


    ? New Organ: Shadow Tendons ¨C Specialized connective tissues laced with mana-reactive fibers. These tendons can temporarily phase into the Shadow Dimension, enabling user to execute follow-up echoing strikes that bypass physical defenses and barriers.


    ? Evolution-Exclusive Ability: Shadow Dimension Attunement ¨C Heightened sensitivity to disruptions in the 4th dimension, enabling detection of hidden and incorporeal entities, energy fluctuations, and structural vulnerabilities in the environment.


    ? Affinity: Dark Affinity Unlocked.


    And


    [Riftweaver]


    Description: Manipulates dimensional boundaries for advanced offensive and defensive capabilities.


    ? Stat Bonuses per Level: +7 Intelligence, +7 Will.


    ? New Organ: Shadow Membranes ¨C Thin, translucent layers beneath the scales that link the outer epidermis to the Mana Conduit Vasculature. These membranes emit faint dimensional ripples, making user harder to detect with physical senses. Additionally, they stabilize dimensional stepping, reducing resistance when phasing through the Shadow Dimension and extending phase distance.


    ? Ability Unlock: Distortion Veil ¨C Creates an aura of dimensional distortion when channelling mana, reducing enemy targeting accuracy.


    ? Affinity: Dark Affinity Unlocked.


    I frowned. There were thirteen tomes in the red section this time, and nearly a third of them made mention of this ¡°Shadow Dimension¡± or a ¡°Fourth Dimension.¡± Flipping through them left my head spinning with questions. Before I could stop myself, I turned to my doppelganger, annoyance bubbling over.


    ¡°What the hell is this ¡®Shadow Dimension¡¯? And why do half my options have something to do with it?¡±

 Chapter 85: WraithScale

    My doppelg?nger paused mid-stir, frowning as if I¡¯d just failed the most rudimentary of tests. ¡°Thought you¡¯d have caught on by now,¡± she said, fixing me with a look of mild exasperation. ¡°All those flashy attacks of yours? Echo Claw, Spectral Crunch, and now this phasing business¡ªI figured you¡¯d pieced it together.¡±


    I frowned, the gears in my head grinding at her words. Now that she mentioned it, the thought had crossed my mind, though fleetingly. ¡°I was, uh, a bit preoccupied wrecking those cultists, thanks very much. Didn¡¯t exactly have the luxury of sitting down for a tea and ponder session. Sure, the phasing bit with the Phantom Dragon Dance had me curious, but I didn¡¯t have a bloody clue how it worked. It all felt... instinctive. And, well, with no leads to go on, I figured if I started digging into it, I¡¯d tumble headfirst down some rabbit hole I didn¡¯t have the time or patience for.¡± I shrugged. ¡°So yeah, I shelved my curiosity and just rolled with it.¡±


    Honestly, if I stopped to question every bizarre thing that cropped up, I¡¯d never get anything done¡ªnot without driving myself mad in the process.


    She set her stirring rod down, and the potion, which had been swirling obediently a moment ago, immediately grew wilder. ¡°Alright,¡± she said, clasping her hands with the exaggerated patience of a teacher about to explain why two plus two isn¡¯t twenty-two. ¡°Picture this: the good old three dimensions¡ªlength, width, height. Everything you see, touch, or stub your toe on. But there¡¯s more to the world than that. Imagine an extra layer of reality, snug as a second skin. That¡¯s the fourth dimension¡ªthe Shadow Dimension. It¡¯s not some separate plane, mind you. It¡¯s right here, just... out of sync. A distorted mirror of our world, where things are shadowy, half-there, intangible.¡±


    I frowned, properly mulling it over now. My phasing technique suddenly started to make sense. I hadn¡¯t been teleporting or reconstructing myself on the fly like some stupid puzzle. It all clicked. ¡°So, when I phased through stuff, I was... hopping in and out of this Shadow Dimension?¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± she said with a nod. ¡°Your technique burns stamina to dip in and out of it, bypassing physical barriers like they¡¯re nothing. You¡¯re not altering the world; you¡¯re just sidestepping it entirely for a moment.¡±


    ¡°What about Echo Claw and Spectral Crunch, then?¡±


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s a property of this fourth dimension,¡± she said, leaning back smugly. ¡°Time moves... differently there. A little warped, a little stretched. So, when your skills interact with it¡ªlike a claw swipe or a bite¡ªthey leave a delayed echo. The action¡¯s already complete in the physical plane, but the Shadow Dimension lets you fire off a follow-up attack out of nowhere, catching your enemies off guard.¡±


    My eyes widened as the implications hit me. A whole different dimension, hiding in plain sight, and I¡¯d been dipping into it without even realising. ¡°Why the hell wasn¡¯t I aware of this till now?¡±


    She smirked. ¡°Don¡¯t fry your brain over it. It¡¯s not exactly a state secret. People in the world know about it, though they might call it something else. Ever notice how specters, wraiths, and incorporeal monsters work? They¡¯re native to this dimension. They exist there but interact with here, opposite of what you¡¯ve been doing.¡±


    I nodded, though my knowledge of such creatures was pitiful at best. Research wasn¡¯t exactly my strong suit, since my knowledge supply had always been limited, especially when it came to monsters. Still, my doppelganger seemed unnervingly well-informed about this dimension¡ªmore than a passing nod to the system¡¯s spoon-feeding, I reckoned. Judging by the stack of evolution tomes mentioning this shadowy dimension, it was clearly no small topic. Grinning, I decided to prod her further. She seemed in a rare teacher mode rather than her usual annoy-for-sport antics.


    ¡°Sooo¡­ learning that technique was quite the milestone, yeah? Considering all these shadow-dimension-themed options popping up. Not to mention, I¡¯ve been pulling off specter-ish stunts already. The name Phantom Dragon Dance is almost offensively on the nose, isn¡¯t it?¡± A thought struck me, and I cocked my head. ¡°But wait¡ªaren¡¯t the denizens of this dimension mostly undead? Am I nicking some of their traits or what?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she drawled, ¡°you¡¯re undeniably alive, so let¡¯s not add ¡®zombie¡¯ to your list of issues. And no, not everything there is undead. Spirits, incorporeal entities, and who knows what else reside in this plane. Unlike you, they¡¯re naturally attuned to it. Their bodies destabilize molecules and sync with dimensions instinctively. You, on the other hand, have been burning stamina to brute-force the same tricks. Now, with the right organ, you could do it with mana instead.¡±


    I glanced back at the tomes, a flicker of hope stirring in my chest. Maybe this dimension held the key I needed. But her voice echoed through my thoughts, dampening the spark. ¡°There¡¯s a catch, of course. While you¡¯re in this dimension, you¡¯re untouchable¡ªbut also utterly useless. You can¡¯t affect anything on the other side until you pop back into the 3D plane to do the deed.¡±


    I nodded. That tracked. Every story I¡¯d heard about specters or wraiths attacking involved them manifesting physically to land a blow. Still, curiosity got the better of me. ¡°Okay, phasing through stuff makes sense now, but ghost hunters¡ªthere was one incident in Randall with a wraith¡ªhow do they manage to catch these things? What should I be wary of?¡±


    She tilted her head. ¡°Well, what do dark mana entities fear most?¡±


    I blinked. ¡°Er¡­ light mana?¡±


    ¡°Bingo. Try phasing through a light mana barrier, and you¡¯ll have your answer.¡± Her laugh was half cackle, half lecture. It added up, really. Every organ linked to this dimension required dark mana to function or attune. ¡°And it¡¯s not just barriers. Any attack imbued with light mana will land on an incorporeal entity like a hammer on glass. Just because you¡¯re invisible to the eye doesn¡¯t mean the physical world won¡¯t respond. A drop in temperature, for instance¡ªthat¡¯s your telltale sign something¡¯s lurking.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    I filed that under important things not to ignore. Something else nagged at me, though. ¡°Why does it feel like energy¡ªmana and force¡ªhas more presence in this dimension than, y¡¯know, solid objects?¡±


    Her grin widened, all teeth and smug satisfaction. ¡°Knew you¡¯d clock it eventually. You¡¯ve been flirting with the fourth dimension for a while, and only now you¡¯ve bothered to ask its name.¡±


    I scowled, the gears in my mind grinding as the pieces clicked together. "So these evolutions¡ªWraithwing Stalker, Veil Warden, all that lot¡ªthey¡¯re designed to pull me deeper into that dimension, aren¡¯t they?" My gaze flicked to the gold section, narrowing. ¡°And I¡¯m guessing there¡¯s even more up there, isn¡¯t there?¡±


    ¡°Not just deeper,¡± she said, waggling a finger like a smug professor. ¡°Better. They refine your body for it¡ªtendons that detach, membranes that stabilize transitions, senses fine-tuned to disturbances in that shadowy layer. Oh, and as for those gold tomes?¡± She flashed a grin, all teeth. ¡°Why not take a peek and see for yourself?¡±


    That I would. My heart raced at the thought. Until now, I¡¯d only dabbled¡ªskirting the edges of becoming something ghost-like. But an evolution that could actually grant me their properties? Access to a dimension where they thrived? The idea of becoming the kind of monster that made hunters take specialized skills to deal with¡ªdeliciously irritating and devastating¡ªwas too tempting. Still, I wouldn¡¯t lose sight of my edge. I wasn¡¯t some fragile specter. No, for me, that dimension would be a weapon. A cloak to amplify my strength.


    The hope to survive when I woke up burned brighter as my gaze locked onto the gold tomes. I couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be lush if one of these evolutions let me fully dive into that dimension, like ghosts do?¡± I quipped, only to stop dead when my doppelganger¡¯s grin stretched even wider, her eyes practically gleaming.


    ¡°No fucking shot!?¡± I blurted.


    Her smile said it all, but I didn¡¯t wait for confirmation. My hands were already snatching up the first golden tome before she could say another word.


    [Thunder Scion]


    [Description: This evolution channels the ferocity of lightning mana through a body honed under extreme conditions, combining resilience with explosive capabilities.]


    ? Stat Bonuses per Level: +6 Intelligence, +5 Will, +5 Durability, +2 Strength.


    ? New Organ: Electroconductive Myelin ¨C Enhanced nerve fibers coated with specialized conductive sheaths. This adaptation accelerates neural signaling, enabling heightened reflexes and more precise lightning mana control.


    ? Evolution-Exclusive Ability: Living Conductor ¨C Grants the capability to absorb electrical energy and lightning mana, storing it internally for controlled release as devastating bursts. Overloaded energy can be redirected into a healing burst, restoring stamina and mending internal injuries.


    ? Mana Core Upgrade: Intermediate Mana Core ¨C Expands mana storage.


    ? Supplemental Core Unlock: Tempest Core ¨C A supplementary mana core designed to optimize lightning mana storage, providing an expanded reservoir exclusively for lightning mana.


    Not quite what I had in mind, but oh, gold tomes were leagues ahead of any other rarity, as usual. I couldn¡¯t help but gape for a moment at the evolution on display. The cover illustration alone was enough to make one¡¯s heart skip a beat¡ªgleaming bioelectric veins coursing beneath the skin, horns elegantly curving backward with a polished metallic sheen, crackling faintly with static energy.


    Scales shimmered like storm-touched silver-blue clouds, claws extended into blackened, razor-sharp talons etched with lightning-like patterns.


    It was a masterpiece of deadly grace, with eyes like blazing blue orbs that all but whispered, blink, and you¡¯re already gone. And that was just the first option among the four versions on offer in this section.


    The ability it came with was absurdly powerful¡ªone of those evolution-exclusive perks, though. The catch was there. It¡¯d vanish the moment I evolved again unless I kept to a similar path and snagged an upgraded version. With a sigh, I turned my attention to the second tome.


    [Draconic Devourer]


    [Description: A predatory evolution emphasizing resource consumption and metabolic adaptability, turning sustenance into combat advantages.]


    ? Stat Bonuses per Level: +6 Strength, +3 Durability, +6 Intelligence, +3 Will.


    ? New Organ: Energy Vault ¨C A secondary digestive organ equipped with mana-reactive enzymes and specialized acids. This organ processes consumed materials¡ªincluding mana-rich or toxic substances¡ªinto stamina, mana, or temporary boosts to physical attributes and regeneration.


    ? Evolution-Exclusive Ability: Ravenous Conversion ¨C Enables the user to consume enemy corpses or mana-infused objects mid-combat, replenishing health, mana, or stamina. Grants a temporary enhancement to stats and allows for limited replication of consumed traits.


    This one was another hunger-themed evolution, and sweet heavens, these options just kept improving. Boosts from eating? Check. Temporary trait mimicry? Check. A combat powerhouse, no doubt about it.


    The accompanying illustration leaned more towards nightmare fuel. Bulkier frame, muscles like coiled steel cables, and a maw so large it practically swallowed itself. Because why not, right? Stage 4 clearly didn¡¯t hold back¡ªevery one of these forms was at least the size of a horse now. Reluctantly, I set the tome down. Gold evolutions always reflected your path and top achievements, like a twisted mirror.


    My gaze slid to the third tome.


    [Venomscale]


    [Description: A toxin-focused evolution enhancing venom production and deployment, transforming the user into a master of poison manipulation.]


    ? Stat Bonuses per Level: +3 Strength, +3 Durability, +6 Intelligence, +6 Will.


    ? New Organ: Toxiferous Glands ¨C Dual-purpose glands capable of producing various toxins when supplied with mana. Includes corrosive venom for dismantling defenses, neurotoxins for incapacitating enemies, and hallucinogenic compounds for disrupting perceptions.


    ? Evolution-Exclusive Ability: Toxic Veil ¨C Deploys a venomous mist from the glands, creating a localized field with variable effects based on the toxin type:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Neurotoxin Mist: Slows movement and reduces enemy strength.


    </li>


    <li>


    Corrosive Mist: Deteriorates equipment and burns through physical defenses.


    </li>


    <li>


    Hallucinogenic Mist: Induces confusion and paranoia in targets, impairing coordination and perception.


    </li>


    </ul>


    The illustration was all sinuous grace¡ªa serpentine version of me. Scales of emerald green with golden flecks glimmered like a serpent¡¯s hoard. Needle-like fangs glistened with a suspiciously venomous sheen, and my tail had grown barbs, clearly designed for constriction. Thin membranes along my spine shimmered faintly, radiating a gaseous, toxic haze.


    It looked as dangerous as it was described. My very own venom glands?! The idea of cycling mana into poison, and poison back into mana, practically had my mind spinning. Could this be an infinite loop of self-sustaining terror? The possibilities were endless. Still, there was one more tome left on the shelf, and deep down, I already knew it had to be tied to that shadowy dimension.


    Without a moment¡¯s hesitation, I reached for it.


    [Wraithscale]

 Chapter 86: Go Kick His Sorry Arse!

    Wraithscale.


    The illustration alone left me gobsmacked. I had braced myself for something dark and brooding¡ªnaturally, given the shadowy theme¡ªbut a silver-scaled dragon? That, I didn¡¯t see coming. Its scales shimmered, some almost appearing distorted, as if teetering on the edge of reality, ready to slip away entirely.


    The creature itself was more serpentine, unnervingly sinuous. Jagged ivory horns spiraled upward, faint trails of distortion spiraling with them, as if they too might vanish at any moment. Crimson slitted eyes glared out from its elegant, predatory visage, and the wide maw promised anything but mercy. It was an exquisite nightmare¡ªprecisely the sort of thing you¡¯d prefer not to bump into in the dead of night.


    ...


    I liked it.


    Flipping the page, I devoured the description.


    An evolution specialized in maintaining stability while interfacing with the 4th dimension. A predator adapted to exist within the shadowed echoes of the world.


    Stat Enhancements (Per Level): +3 Willpower, +6 Intelligence, +3 Durability, +6 Strength


    New Organ:


    Dimensional Lamina ¨C A thin, vascularized membrane interwoven with the existing Mana Conduit Vasculature. Composed of advanced filaments, this organ vibrates the user¡¯s molecular structure to match the resonant frequency of the 4th dimension, ensuring stability for dimensional interaction.


    <ul>


    <li>


    Energy Source: Charges with dark mana. Consumed to sustain frequency alignment.


    </li>


    <li>


    Failure Condition: Forced ejection occurs upon depletion of charge.


    </li>


    </ul>


    New Ability:


    Distortion Cloak ¨C Generates a passive distortion field while the Dimensional Lamina is active in the 4th dimension. Blends the user¡¯s presence into the ambient shadows, granting stealth from 4th-dimensional entities.


    Unlocks Dark Affinity.


    Mana Core Upgrade: Intermediate Mana Core ¨C Enhances mana storage capacity.


    Supplemental Core: Wraith Heart ¨C An auxiliary core designed exclusively for dark mana, significantly increasing its dark mana storage capacity.


    Once again, I found myself pausing, taking a deliberate breath as my brain replayed the absurdity of what I¡¯d just read, connecting dots with incredulous zeal. These options¡ªhonestly, what was going on with them? Each one was utterly ridiculous. Granted, they were Stage 4 choices, so it stood to reason they''d be showstoppers. Stage 4 monsters weren¡¯t exactly tea-and-biscuits material.


    But still¡ªan organ that would grant me full access to the 4th dimension? Moments of near invincibility against practically everything, provided my foe wasn¡¯t packing light magic? And even if they were, what could they possibly do against me? The sheer audacity of it all left me momentarily stunned.


    Yet, there was a niggling little detail that gnawed at me¡ªthe mention of entities lurking about in this dimension. Surely, they could pose a threat to me, no? Or was I being overly cautious? I gave my head a shake. Even factoring in the limitations, this option outshone the rest. It wasn¡¯t just about standing out; it was about unlocking a completely new combat style.


    More than that, this was my ticket to survival when I woke up. Still, my eyes couldn¡¯t help but linger on the other tomes in the gilded section. Each one was its own marvel. The Thunder option¡ªbrimming with agility, enhanced perception, reflexes, and, naturally, lightning magic. The Hunger option¡ªletting me temporarily swipe traits from monsters, like some cheeky evolutionary magpie. And the Poison option¡ªversatile enough to cook up effects that could make even alchemists weep.


    And then there was the Wraith option, which didn¡¯t just dabble¡ªit granted direct access to an entirely separate dimension, one haunted by actual ghosts. The sheer scope of possibilities, the creative combat applications¡ªit all felt maddeningly unfair. Choosing one over the others felt like picking a favourite star in the night sky.


    But this wasn¡¯t just about indulgence¡ªmy survival hung in the balance, and I also had to think long-term. This would form the foundation, the bedrock for future evolutions. And as much as the others tempted me, Wraithscale stood head and shoulders above the rest. I could do lightning magic without first¡ªI already had a whiff of hunger evolutions¡ªand I had a sneaking suspicion the Macro-Trophic Sac¡¯s next upgrades would be equally absurd. As for poisons, I could whip up my own concoctions once I returned to civilization.


    The one thing I wouldn¡¯t be able to do? Access this dimension in full. And that sealed it.


    I drew a steadying breath, my decision clear as crystal. There was no real contest here¡ªone choice towered over the rest.


    With resolute determination, I reached for the tome and turned towards my doppelganger. She was already brewing a potion, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. Of course, she¡¯d figured it out already¡ªhow could she not?


    With a thud that made several neatly arranged vials shudder, I slammed the tome onto her desk. One vial wobbled dangerously, teetering on the brink before an unseen force steadied it and nudged it back into place. My doppelganger, her slitted eyes narrowing in mock irritation, looked up at me.


    "Rude," she said flatly, pouring a bubbling mixture into a violet flask. I could¡¯ve sworn an eye bobbed to the surface before sinking back down.


    I shrugged with all the nonchalance of a cat knocking a glass off a table. "Sorry about that."


    Her eyebrows arched, unimpressed. "Your tone¡¯s about as apologetic as a storm." She sidled aside to make room at the desk. ¡°Why not come brew something with me instead of pitching a tantrum?"


    ¡°Pitching a tantrum? Please,¡± I scoffed, crossing my arms. ¡°I¡¯m far too dignified a dragon for that.¡± But my gaze betrayed me, drawn to the vials of peculiar chemicals, swirling in their glass prisons. Then a sharp thought cut through the moment¡ªa reminder of the danger waiting outside.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°This is supposed to be a sanctuary,¡± my doppelganger said, reading me like an open book. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile as she ground something into a fine powder. ¡°Come on. Don¡¯t overthink it. You know as well as I do¡ªalchemy¡¯s the balm for your soul.¡±


    I didn¡¯t move, and with a sigh, she abandoned her task. Approaching me, she took my hands in hers. The heels she wore gave her just enough height to look down at me¡ªan odd sensation, given she was me. Her eerie twin-like face hovered close, her breath warm against my skin.


    Only then did I notice her eyes weren¡¯t slitted blue anymore; they gleamed a deep, unsettling red. She lifted my chin, locking her gaze with mine. ¡°Let it go,¡± she said softly. ¡°The world outside, the problems, the peril¡ªit¡¯s all irrelevant here. Nothing can touch you in this place. This is your moment. A sanctuary the system gave you. Let it immerse you again.¡±


    Before I could protest, she grinned and tugged me towards the workstation. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s concoct something absolutely lethal! And bonus points¡ªwe won¡¯t even pass out from the fumes this time!¡± She winked, sticking her tongue out and flashing a thumbs-up.


    For reasons beyond me, I felt lighter. My tension slipped away, replaced by a stupid grin. Before I knew it, I was elbow-deep in questionable alchemy, mixing who-knows-what with far too much enthusiasm. She was right¡ªalchemy was the balm for my soul.


    Then, with an almost theatrical flourish, she brought out three jars filled with... were those bloody organs?


    ¡°What are those for?!¡± I asked.


    She blinked at me as if I¡¯d just asked whether dragons breathe fire. ¡°Your reward from earlier. One extra-rare organ for your evolution, miss scatterbrain.¡±


    Oh. Ohhh. That was a thing, wasn¡¯t it?


    ¡°Well then,¡± she said, stepping back with a flourish. ¡°Pick one.¡±


    Squinting, I leaned closer to read the labels.


    The first jar held something resembling tangled fungal threads, pale and faintly glowing.


    [Spectral Mycelium Network]


    [Description: A lattice of mana-reactive filaments integrated within the user''s nervous system.]


    Functionality: Enables real-time feedback on dimensional disturbances, including specter movements and weaknesses within dimensional fabric.


    Healing Protocol: Allows the user to draw and convert residual energy from the 4th dimension into regenerative power, facilitating recovery.


    Hoh. Definitely tied to the evolution. My gaze slid reluctantly to the next jar.


    [Planar Resonance Core]


    [Description: A crystalline organ embedded centrally within the user, designed for dimensional energy conversion.]


    Energy Conversion: Extracts residual energy from the 4th dimension and transforms it into usable mana.


    Passive Mana Regeneration: While present in 4th dimension, steadily replenishes the user''s mana reserves.


    The last jar contained something... unsettlingly beautiful.


    [Dimensional Convergence Tendrils]


    [Description: Two pairs of semi-ethereal tentacles extending from mana-reactive nodules along the user¡¯s spinal or shoulder regions.]


    Dual-Plane Functionality: Operates simultaneously in the 4th dimension and the 3D plane.


    Combat and Manipulation: While the user remains intangible within the 4th dimension, tendrils can interact with objects or enemies in the 3D plane, enabling strikes and grappling.


    I cast a dejected glance at my doppelg?nger, my expression dripping with defeat. ¡°Really? I can only pick one?¡±


    She shrugged, utterly unbothered.


    I let out a sigh, leaning back. ¡°Brilliant. Another bloody impossible decision. I swear, I¡¯m done. Every single one of these is valuable, no matter what I pick.¡± Gesturing grandly, I declared, ¡°Each one¡¯s a rare organ, too¡ªprobably bursting with juicy upgrades. Just do it for me, yeah? Spare me the agony of choosing!¡±


    Her face settled into an infuriating mix of amusement and exasperation as she set a suspiciously heart-shaped jar on the table. ¡°Oh no no no no no. This delightful mess is yours alone. Don¡¯t try to foist it off on me just because you can¡¯t handle the options. Your evolution, your headache.¡±


    I groaned, burying my head in my hands. ¡°It¡¯s not indecision if every choice feels like cutting off a wing!¡±


    ¡°Dramatic,¡± she deadpanned, picking up one of the jars and giving it a lazy swirl. ¡°But here¡¯s a thought¡ªwhatever you choose, you¡¯ll still end up terrifying. Isn¡¯t that a bit comforting?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not!¡± I shot back, glaring at her. ¡°Because I¡¯ll always wonder what I missed! What if one of these is the game-changer, and I pass it up?¡±


    She rolled her eyes. ¡°Welcome to life. You¡¯d think you¡¯d be used to it by now, given the number of decisions you¡¯ve already botched¡ªer, made. It¡¯s like shopping for tea: there¡¯s always a blend you didn¡¯t try, but that doesn¡¯t make your Earl Grey any less satisfying.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t tea!¡± I jabbed a finger at the jars, my frustration spilling over. ¡°That one,¡± I pointed at the Spectral Mycelium Network, ¡°basically makes me a ghostly spider with a sixth sense for specters and self-healing. Phenomenal! Then there¡¯s this¡ª¡± I motioned to the Planar Resonance Core ¡°¡ªwhich would turn the fourth dimension into my personal mana battery. Tell me that¡¯s not tempting! And those¡ª¡± I waved wildly at the Dimensional Convergence Tendrils ¡°¡ªtentacles! Tentacles that can punch and strangle people across dimensions! You honestly expect me to casually pick between spider-ghost, mana reactor, and a spectral slap-boxer?!¡±


    She blinked, her expression flat as a board. ¡°Spectral slap-boxer? Really?¡±


    ¡°You know what I mean,¡± I grumbled, folding my arms. ¡°And for the record, you¡¯re supposed to be smarter than me. Why don¡¯t you decide?¡±


    She placed the jar down gently, folding her arms to mirror me. ¡°Because I already know what I¡¯d pick. But where¡¯s the fun in that? You¡¯ve got the brain power to weigh this out.¡±


    I slumped against the table, staring glumly at the jars. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s break this down like civilized dragons.¡±


    ¡°Progress!¡± she chimed, grinning.


    I pointed to the Mycelium jar. ¡°Creepy-cool, lets me sense and heal with dimensional energy. Amazing versatility.¡± I moved to the Resonance Core. ¡°Mana battery! Top-tier resource management.¡± Finally, I pointed to the Tendrils. ¡°Ghost tentacles! They can grab, punch, and possibly poke annoying people in two realms at once.¡±


    ¡°Truly, the dream,¡± she added, stifling a laugh.


    I let out another groan, thwacking the table with enough force to rattle the jars. ¡°Ugh! This is impossible. Why can¡¯t I just grow all three?¡±


    ¡°Sadly, no,¡± she replied with a nonchalant shrug. ¡°Unless you¡¯re planning to bribe the system with, I don¡¯t know... metaphysical biscuits?¡±


    I shot her a glare that could¡¯ve melted steel. ¡°Fine then. I choose none. I¡¯ll evolve into a grumpy, indecisive dragon and live in a cave stuffed with nothing but regrets.¡±


    ¡°Sounds cozy,¡± she said with mock cheer, nudging me gently toward the jars. ¡°Now, come on. Just pick already. You know I¡¯m not doing it for you. This one¡¯s all yours.¡±


    ¡°I hate this,¡± I muttered, scowling at the jars like they¡¯d personally offended me. ¡°Every time there¡¯s a choice between good things, it¡¯s like pulling teeth.¡± My fingers hovered indecisively, twitching between the jars in a spectral game of eeny-meeny-miny-moe.


    Her grin widened. ¡°Whatever you pick, when the inevitable regret comes, you can just blame me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, believe me, I plan to,¡± I retorted. ¡°Deal!¡±


    With a resigned sigh, I grabbed a jar, watching as her grin deepened. She knew exactly what I¡¯d pick before I did, the smug git. I tipped the organ into the potion. It hissed and bubbled with an aroma so tantalizing it made my stomach rumble.


    And just like that, my evolution potion was ready.


    ¡°Well,¡± she said, pushing the flask toward me, ¡°it¡¯ll be a while before we meet again.¡±


    I stared at the potion, then at her. ¡°What if I don¡¯t want to go out there?¡±


    ¡°You know it doesn¡¯t work like that.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± I paused, grasping at something I couldn¡¯t quite put into words. ¡°What if I... brought you with me?¡±


    It was a ridiculous notion. She wasn¡¯t real¡ªjust a mirror of my own psyche. But she reminded me of everything I missed. Someone I could trust. Someone who could jabber on with me endlessly. Someone who wasn¡¯t just a fleeting dream like Lotte. She was me, honed to perfection. And every time we parted, it left me with a gnawing sense of longing, as though I were leaving a piece of myself behind.


    ¡°Again, not how it works,¡± she said softly, her smile tinged with something almost wistful. Then, she pulled me into a hug, ruffling my head like I was some wayward hatchling. ¡°You¡¯re doing fine. Brilliant, actually. Just finish your level-ups and come back here soon, yeah?¡±


    She pulled away, leaving me feeling oddly hollow. ¡°Now, go on,¡± she added, her grin returning. ¡°Your exp bag¡¯s waiting just outside. Go kick his sorry arse!¡±

 Chapter 87: Silver Reaper

    As the dream ebbed away like a receding tide, one thing became abundantly clear: I had to act, and swiftly at that. A familiar warmth cocooned me, but something was off¡ªor perhaps on. There was a weight to me now, a subtle but noticeable heft. I¡¯d grown, and not by a trifle either.


    First things first, priorities in order. I needed to check something. With a thought, my stat screen flared to life, and my gaze locked onto the numbers that mattered most:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Mana Points (MP): 104 / 104


    </li>


    <li>


    Dark Mana Points (Wraith Heart): 25 / 25


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points (SP): 153 / 153


    </li>


    </ul>


    My mana had nearly doubled, a lovely little bonus courtesy of my auxiliary core, brimming with dark mana. As for stamina? A veritable leap forward¡ªno complaints there.


    Now then, the pressing issue: slipping out of this snug little subterranean cocoon without alerting the gentleman currently throwing his toys out of the pram outside. Fortunately, I had just the trick for it. Despite spending what felt like hours in my evolution chamber, I knew only a couple of minutes had passed topside. I could still hear him¡ªhis furious shouting, the clash of metal against wood. Perhaps he was venting his rage on the trees. Charming.


    Taking a steadying breath, I reached inward, feeling for my second core. It pulsed quietly beside my primary, a distinct thrum of dark mana. I had no prior experience wielding it, but when I called upon it, it answered just as eagerly as my lightning mana ever had. Promising, to say the least.


    Time to put it to use. Activating my Dimensional Lamina, I felt peculiar points within me stir to life, like eager little beacons demanding dark mana fuel. Obediently, I fed them mana from the Wraith Heart, watching the tally drop. Ten mana down, and the mechanism hummed, ready for activation. Could I push it further, though? More charge, more time in 4th dimension?


    Before I could test the theory, a sharp blow struck my earthy shell. Blast it! So, he could sense mana buildup after all. No time to dither¡ªanother strike would crack this cocoon wide open.


    I focused, igniting the Dimensional Lamina, and felt an alien ripple course through me. A serpentine motion gripped my form, and the world around me shifted, melting into shadowy echoes of itself. Just like that, I slipped from the grasp of the third dimension.


    The sensation was¡­ odd. No nausea, none of that wobbly unease one expects from teleportation. But this wasn¡¯t teleportation, was it? It was more like stepping into a folded corner of existence.


    What did hit me, however, was a stifling sense of absence. My Air Sense¡ªa rather constant companion, one that stayed active and kept feeding me information from the back of my mind¡ªhad gone silent, rendered utterly useless here. I vaulted upwards, breaking through the veils of shadow to find proper footing, and when I surfaced, the sight that greeted me was enough to steal the breath I no longer seemed to need.


    The landscape was an unsettling canvas of endless fog, cloaking everything in its damp, spectral embrace. Trees¡ªgnarled, shadowy, and slick with an otherworldly sheen¡ªloomed within a limited radius of visibility. Beyond that, only more fog, glowing faintly red in places with an unnatural malevolence. And the weight¡­ something oppressive pressed down on me here, heavy and wrong, as though the very air was burdened by something vile and corrupting.


    My eyes instinctively turned toward the cave, the site of that infernal ritual. Though the fog obscured direct sight, the wrongness seemed to pulse from its direction. Whatever was being conjured there was clearly bleeding into this fourth dimension, warping its unnatural fabric.


    Before anything else, I took stock of my form. I was glowing¡ªan ethereal white haze, my edges blurred and smoky, as though my body barely existed. Intangible. My growth was apparent now, as I almost towered over Elnor. Speaking of him, he had a spectral form here too¡ªhis shadowy outline trailing smoke like a living wraith. The only things that truly glowed were his sword and the volatile metal mana swirling in a silvery sheen around him.


    I couldn¡¯t hear him, but his mouth moved, shadowy smoke curling with each silent yell, while his sword thrashed wildly at the fog. Suddenly, a blade of mana shot towards me. Instinct took over, and I sidestepped. It grazed my wing¡ªharmless, passing through like smoke¡ªbut left a strange discomfort in its wake. My Dimensional Lamina pulsed in response, draining a chunk of its charge to stabilize me.


    Ah, so I was largely immune to mana attacks here, though not without consequence. That blade had felt like an unwelcome nudge, a reminder that I wasn¡¯t untouchable.


    To confirm a theory, I swiped at Elnor with my claws. As expected, nothing. My attack passed through him, leaving no mark save perhaps a chill. He shivered and lashed out wildly, cutting down a few more trees in his blind frustration. I grinned, my intangible form invisible to him. A few playful swipes¡ªtickles, really¡ªprovoked more erratic shouting and slashing. He felt something, a drop in temperature perhaps, but he couldn¡¯t touch me.


    But I could touch him¡ªoh, yes, I had the perfect tools for that.


    I felt them before I saw them: four new limbs sprouting from my neck and spine. White, fluid, and bladed at the ends, they moved with serpentine grace, as though they¡¯d always been there. Tentacles. Aggressive, predatory, mine. They coiled and danced as I got a feel for them, their movements second nature.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Here in the fourth dimension, they shared my intangible quality. I willed mana into them¡ªtwo points from my Wraith Heart¡ªand watched as they began to solidify, their foggy forms sharpening into bladed, bone-like extensions. I grinned. With a single thought, I pushed them into the third dimension.


    The tentacles stretched, fluid and unnaturally long, until they pierced the veil between dimensions. Eight metres, easily. Exhilarating. The moment they entered the 3D plane, they adopted a shadowy solidity. Yes. Ready to strike.


    It was time to set the plan in motion. My Dimensional Lamina was running dangerously low on charge¡ªbarely enough to last the same amount of time I¡¯d already spent here. Less than a minute. Lovely.


    Summoning my lightning bolt runes, I watched as they flickered to life, forming sharp and crackling symbols. Meanwhile, Elnor flailed ahead, his sword mana lashing wildly at the fog as though his life depended on it. Too bad for him¡ªI wasn¡¯t anywhere near his strikes. The moment the runes were complete, I moved on to the next phase.


    With a flick of thought, my tentacles lashed out, serpentine and precise. One coiled around his throat, cutting off his shouts, while another clamped down on his sword arm, forcing his glowing blade to still. His struggle began in earnest, but before he could do much more than gurgle in frustration, I spread my wings wide and launched us both into the air.


    Mana blades flared and sliced through the space around him, but they cut only through the fog of my intangible form. The tentacles were a step ahead¡ªhalf in the 4th dimension, half in the 3D plane¡ªrendering his frantic attempts to sever them utterly useless. Not that he had much time left to figure that out.


    With powerful wingbeats, I dragged us higher and higher into the foggy skies. The runes thrummed against my arms, burning lightning mana into them as I pushed their capacity to the limit: 20 mana to charge. Elnor thrashed and shouted as I shoved another 20 mana into the runes for the discharge.


    Then came the finale. With a final burst of effort, I released him from my grasp, watching as he plummeted through the air like a broken doll. My tentacles snapped back into me as I funneled the last 10 mana into the arc, my body groaning under the strain. Yet, it was tolerable¡ªa far cry from the agony I¡¯d endured before. Perhaps my evolution had reinforced my mana conduits.


    Just as I felt the Dimensional Lamina sputter and fail, another jolt rippled through me. The fog peeled back, the world snapping into clarity as tangibility returned in an instant. Air rushed to fill my lungs, tinged with the unmistakable scent of charred flesh and ozone.


    Below, Elnor¡¯s scream cut through the stillness, his body tumbling helplessly. I grinned, my wings keeping me aloft as I adjusted my position. The wild crackle of lightning mana danced across my runes. Eager. Untamed.


    His eyes met mine, wide with terror as his fate hurtled toward him. The words raced to my lips unbidden, and before I could stop myself, I screamed:


    ¡°LIGHTNING BOLT!¡±


    The bolt roared into existence, tearing through the air in a blinding arc. It struck his falling form dead-on, splintering into explosive branches of energy as it hit. The impact sent me hurtling backward from the force, but I spread my wings wide, catching the air and stabilizing myself mid-flight.


    [You have slain an Elf - Level 63 Chromium Reaper (VII)/Level 27 Argent Armorer (III)]


    [Massive Experience Points acquired from defeating a higher-level target.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    [Level increased.]


    Mission Progress: 1/2 Leaders slain.


    Even before sparing a glance at what remained of Elnor¡¯s charred corpse, the system chimed in, confirming his demise. He was dead. Truly, definitively dead. Yet, despite the reassuring message, a kernel of skepticism lingered¡ªhad he some secret contingency in case of such an end? Seemed not. I had worried for nothing.


    I winced as a fresh wave of pain throbbed through my arms. Ah, yes, the toll of overexertion. Again. But what choice had I? With someone like him, the possibility of hidden barrier enchantments or last-ditch tricks wasn¡¯t something to gamble with. One look at the scorched, smoking battlefield¡ªa ruin of charred ground and burning trees where my lightning bolt struck¡ªwas all the justification I needed.


    Shaking off the ache, I began my descent, hauling my now considerable silver-scaled form toward the ground. Despite my increased weight, the landing wasn¡¯t much trouble. My wings, broader and more powerful than ever, caught the air with ease. My Air Sense stirred faintly, feeding me snippets of movement around me.


    It wasn¡¯t long before I spotted a serpent slithering gracefully through the sky¡ªa feathered beast with a glimmering coat. Bonus points if it was poisonous. My tongue flicked over my fangs in anticipation. Free mana and a meal? Delightful.


    I was about to channel energy into my Dimensional Lamina, preparing to dip into the 4th dimension for a surprise ambush, when resistance met me. Hmm? I tried again, only to feel an invisible pushback. A cooldown, perhaps? Interesting. Curious, I tested my tentacles instead, pouring two mana into them. With a satisfying ripple, they vanished into the shadowy plane, proving they were exempt from the same limitation. Handy.


    Ah well. No need for dimensional antics to catch this tasty morsel. My fire gland roared to life as I began charging it. Strangely, it drank 24 mana instead of the usual 4. My eyes widened¡ªbigger firepower? A thrill shot down my spine. Had the gland evolved alongside me? Bigger fires. Bigger destruction.


    Unable to stifle my grin, I unfurled my wings and dove toward the serpent, a streak of silver against the hues. It noticed me, of course¡ªa towering dragon of white is hard to miss¡ªbut before it could flee, my tentacles lashed out, coiling under its feathered head. My throat burned with the buildup of heat.


    Focusing the fire into a precise point, I unleashed it in a blinding torrent. The serpent shrieked, but the concentrated inferno burned straight through its skull like a searing lance.


    [You have slain a Level 17 Plumae Serpens Aeronauticus (III).]


    Impressive. This firepower was leagues beyond what I wielded before¡ªeasily six times stronger. Evolution was already paying dividends. As my tentacles released the limp serpent, my arms pulsed with pain once more. Right. Healing.


    Without delay, I dived toward my prize, relishing the rising mana points. Poisonous. Excellent. Thank Thalador for small mercies. Midway through it, the ache in my arms subsided, mended by the feast.


    And then, everything shifted.


    The dungeon quaked, the tremors reverberating through the stone and air. Hues dispersed. A putrid stench, cloying and suffocating, rolled over me. My heart skipped a beat as the sheer wrongness of the presence gripped me. My scales shivered uncontrollably. A visceral reaction to whatever had emerged.


    My gaze snapped to the ritual site, a knot of dread coiling in my chest. I abandoned the half-finished serpent without a second thought.


    ¡°Oh, Thalador¡­¡± I muttered under my breath, wings beating furiously as I raced toward the source of the disturbance. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me I¡¯m too late!¡±

 Interlude 2.6: Heralas

    Rituals. Bloody rituals. Heralas had once held them sacred, back when he was a naive little lamb bleating for Goddess Selene''s favor. Back then, every rune he carved, every incantation he whispered, was an act of reverence, a holy bridge to the radiant Goddess of Life.


    She, whose divine blood ran through the veins of the kingdom''s pompous, inbred nobility.


    He¡¯d been awestruck when he joined the Order, trembling like a virgin on their wedding night, handpicked among the masses to bring these preening nobles closer to divinity. The Goddess herself supposedly whispered through the Queen, and Heralas had hung on every word like a lovesick fool.


    Every painstaking ritual, every setback endured, every ounce of his devotion had been poured into not disappointing the ever-watchful Selene.


    But now? Now, the whole bloody charade was a cruel joke.


    Heralas¡¯ hands moved with practiced precision, his fingers tracing runes through golden dust in flawless concentric circles around the whimpering heir. Decades of repetition made the motions second nature, and while the preparations were slapdash at best, it didn¡¯t matter. He¡¯d promised Elnor he¡¯d see this through, and Heralas wasn¡¯t one to back out¡ªunlike the limp-spined twits he worked for.


    The sounds of battle rumbled faintly from outside the cavern; whoever had come to disrupt them had finally arrived. He trusted Elnor to deal with it¡ªhe¡¯d bloody better¡ªwhile he focused on the ritual, forcing it into place with sheer will and spite. His fellow ritualists scrambled alongside him, but each misstep was grating against his fraying patience.


    And then there was him.


    Heralas flicked a glance at Eryndor Faenlith, the little shit sprawled stark naked on the freezing stone altar, acting like the Goddess owed him a bloody apology for the inconvenience. The wanker had the gall to whinge and ask how much longer it would take, and Heralas¡¯ fists clenched so hard his nails bit into his palms. Divine gift, my arse.


    This arrogant, pampered tosser was about to be blessed by Selene herself, and he couldn¡¯t even muster the decency to sit there without his entitled prattle. Heralas fought the very real urge to throttle him then and there.


    The bitterness rose in his throat like bile. It wasn¡¯t just Eryndor¡ªthis wasn¡¯t the first time the Goddess had seen fit to bless some spineless sack of nobility who wouldn¡¯t know strength if it smacked them across their powdered face.


    Lately, it seemed every so-called ¡°chosen¡± was weaker than the last, their minds too dull to wipe their own arses, let alone lead a kingdom.


    He swallowed hard, forcing it all down. The rage, the doubt, the ugly, choking truth he couldn¡¯t admit aloud. Nobility. What choice did he have? He wasn¡¯t born with the Goddess¡¯s blood in his veins. He couldn¡¯t be chosen. So he played his part in Her crusade, clinging to that hollow privilege like a drowning man to driftwood. But the cracks in his devotion were spreading, and with each ritual, they threatened to swallow him whole.


    The cavern shuddered faintly, a low tremor as the first tendrils of divinity began to stir. The runes carved into the stone floor pulsed with a rhythmic, silvery glow, soft as a heartbeat. Lumi¨¨re de S¨¦l¨¨ne. Selene¡¯s light. That¡¯s what the pious called it. Heralas had once believed it, too¡ªoh, how he¡¯d believed.


    But now? Now he wasn¡¯t so sure.


    Something had shifted. He couldn¡¯t say when it started. Perhaps it was the light itself¡ªthe way it had grown colder, more piercing, less like moonlight and more like tempered steel. Or maybe it was the nobles. Those damnable nobles and their peculiar requests, always pushing the boundaries of the rituals. The subtle shifts he noticed after each ceremony but couldn¡¯t voice aloud.


    He thought back to the changes in them. At first, they seemed radiant, brimming with power and charm, as though touched by divinity itself. But when he spoke with them¡ªreally looked at them¡ªit was all a brittle veneer. Their eyes were darker. Their tempers shorter. Their laughter as hollow as the caverns they dragged him into for these rituals. He told himself it was natural, that connecting with a shred of divinity would leave its mark. But even that excuse tasted sour.


    They weren¡¯t the same people afterward. They didn¡¯t even feel like the same people.


    His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the naked little wanker sprawled across the altar. "Are you quite done wasting time with these elaborate theatrics, Arcanist Heralas?" Eryndor drawled, "The stone is cold, and this whole spectacle reeks of tedium. If you¡¯re doing this to spite me, cease this nonsense immediately."


    Heralas felt his jaw clench, the vein in his temple throbbing again. Of course, the bloody prat was complaining¡ªhis lordship¡¯s arse was a bit chilly. Never mind that Heralas was balancing on the razor-thin edge of spiritual precision, coaxing the life energy of sacrificed beasts through hastily prepared conduits, ensuring the three altars synced seamlessly, and maintaining the delicate veil of spirituality.


    A masterpiece of improvisation¡ªone he would have taken pride in, if not for the spoiled sack of entitlement splayed out as the ritual¡¯s target.


    ¡°Patience, my lord,¡± Heralas said flatly, his voice devoid of reverence. It felt wrong to say the words, to bend to the whims of the unworthy, but he was far past caring. The brat was undeserving of Her grace. A disgrace to even stand in Her light.


    Eryndor huffed like a sulking child but fell silent as the runes beneath him flared brighter, their silvery light creeping up like a rising tide. He shifted uncomfortably, but Heralas didn¡¯t bother looking up. He had work to do.


    Eyes closed, he focused on the spiritual energy swirling through the cavern. It resisted him, like wrestling a wild beast, but Heralas pulled at it with sheer force, shaping it, commanding it, his fellow ritualists straining to hold the threads in place. The fabric of the world itself was starting to weaken, heavy with an ancient presence clawing its way in.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    It was almost done.


    Focus, Heralas. Anchor yourself. This was the final step. The spirituality bent to his will, his dominion over it absolute.


    The monster corpses sprawled across the altars began to change. Flesh sloughed away, blood pooled and spiraled into intricate symbols glowing with divine resonance. It was a grim. A grotesque beauty.


    Selene, the radiant Goddess of life and blood¡ªShe of persistence, even beyond death.


    Words of power spilled from his lips, his mouth dry and cracking, the air around him suffused with thick, cloying spirituality. Bones stirred, their marrow igniting with an unnatural force. Symbols etched themselves upon spines as the corpses rose, no longer dead but something other.


    Around them, a blooming riot of flora erupted. Vines twined with roses of crimson and gold, stalks of lavender intertwined with fiery marigolds, while eerie sunflowers with dark, watching centers sprouted in grotesque clusters. Eyes of dandelions bobbed gently atop slender stems, gazing at the ritual like mute witnesses. The bodies moved now, and from their throats spilled guttural incantations, a hymn to Her power.


    This was Her might¡ªSelene, The Mother. The Moon. The Radiant Goddess.


    A shiver ran through Heralas¡¯ spine as the fabric of reality strained further, the barrier between worlds tearing with a soundless cry. An oppressive weight bore down on him. More crushing, unrelenting. A vine erupted beside his ear, tendrils reaching like groping fingers. Shit. Just basking in the edge of Her divinity warped the flesh. He glanced around; hastily erected protections flared weakly, barely holding.


    The ritualists weren¡¯t nobles. They bore none of Her blood, no spark of Her divinity to shield them. They were interlopers, pawns, fragile. Disposable. The enchantments they scrawled in desperation bought time, but Heralas could feel the creeping effects: his hair sprouting buds, the flesh along his arms hardening and twisting into bark. His fellows fared no better.


    This wasn¡¯t even Her. It was a mere fragment, a servant, a herald. Lord Styn Lor. The cavern quaked under the force of his arrival, the dungeon¡¯s very stones groaning as the world buckled beneath the weight of his presence. The spirituality became erratic, writhing like a thing alive, slipping through his control.


    A treacherous thought slid into his mind. What if you¡¯re wrong?


    He crushed it with the force of a hammer. No. Blasphemy. Whatever Her will, he was but an instrument. A cog in the grand design. If Her divinity changed people¡ªwarped them¡ªit was exactly as she intended. He dared not question it. He could not.


    Yet the question came again, whispering louder, insidious. What if it¡¯s not Her at all?


    Heralas¡¯ heart thudded in his chest, each beat reverberating in his skull. The thought made him feel unmoored, unmade. But again, he killed it. Enough.


    The pressure grew. The suffocating force that crashing against him like a tidal wave. Vines erupted from his pores, buds blossoming into strange, alien flowers. Around him, the other ritualists convulsed, their shapes distorting grotesquely under the strain.


    This wasn¡¯t the controlled, sacred embrace of divinity he had once known. This was something wild. Chaotic. Wrathful.


    For a fleeting, dreadful moment, he allowed the question to bloom in his mind, a final time. What if it isn¡¯t Her, after all?


    He gritted his teeth, shaking his head violently. What the hell was happening to him? Was he losing faith, or was faith losing him? He clung to the protection scripts, fueling them with everything he had left.


    The dungeon walls seemed alive, pulsating with glowing symbols that bled vitality. Vines sprawled like greedy fingers, sprouting buds, fruits, and grains in reckless abundance. Wheat. Rice. Apples. Mangoes. The overwhelming essence of Life poured out unchecked, and the very stones underfoot turned to loam. He felt the writhing tendrils curl around his boots and creep up his robes.


    Only the brat¡ªthe noble-born bastard¡ªremained untouched, lounging like a princeling atop a lush altar of blossoms. Light spilled in, fractured and luminous, as the dungeon itself quaked.


    Then it began.


    A whisper crawled along the edges of his mind. Cold. Venomous. The brat screamed¡ªa high, broken sound¡ªas vines plunged into his naked flesh, probing, testing his blood for worth. The air shifted; the pressure became unbearable as the presence intensified. He felt it, saw it, as the fabric of reality finally gave up the ghost and shattered.


    From the rupture came vines, grotesque, alien, laced with eyes. Dozens of them. No, hundreds. Swiveling, blinking, judging. They shifted, impossibly fluid, and his sanity howled in rebellion. With trembling fingers, he triggered the final step, a last act of defiance.


    The ritual circles ignited in brilliant white, shields flaring to life, drowning their vision in blinding light. Then, like puppets whose strings had been cut, they collapsed. One by one, heads hit stone as they fell to their knees, trembling before the impossible. This part wasn¡¯t for mortal eyes. Couldn¡¯t be. Not without unraveling, without losing every thread of who they were.


    The brat screamed on. Around him, the skeleton-flowers¡ªthe reanimated beasts bound by Her sacred power¡ªcharged forward, only to dissolve into nothingness.


    Heralas couldn¡¯t see anymore. Couldn¡¯t hear. But even blind and deaf, the presence of Her servant burned through every inch of him. His body betrayed him again, mutating past the protections, as the storm of divine power raged unchecked.


    And then, as suddenly as it came, it withdrew.


    Reality snapped back, stitching itself together with an eerie finality. Her divinity receded, leaving silence in its wake. Heralas dared to open his eyes, staring first at his trembling hands. Bark. Bark everywhere, twisting up his fingers. From his elbows hung ripe mangoes, and wheat sprouted like obscene antennae from his ears. His head¡ªdear gods, his head¡ªwas now a riot of blooming flowers. His body wasn¡¯t his anymore, but he wasn¡¯t alone in his ruin. The others were no better off. Still, most of them were alive this time, and for that, Heralas managed a strained, weary grin. Small victories, eh?


    The cavern had been transformed. A cathedral of green and color surrounded them, plants and vines dripping with fruit and flowers. Beneath, above, all around¡ªLife itself had taken root and flourished in maddening, chaotic beauty.


    And the brat?


    The noble floated now, held aloft by twisting vines of emerald. Across his chest, a massive rose unfurled, its petals blood-red and glistening. Thorny tendrils cradled him with a cruel sort of reverence, their spikes biting into his flesh. But his eyes... those crimson eyes were colder than death. He stared blankly ahead, momentarily detached, as though the mortal world no longer mattered.


    Heralas staggered forward, intending to bow, but before he could lower himself, a thorny vine lashed out, wrapping around his head. He gasped, choking as it yanked him upward, dragging him to face the noble.


    ¡°M-My Lord?¡± he managed, his voice strangled by the vine¡¯s grip.


    The brat stared for a long moment before his mouth twisted into a sneer. ¡°I thought you had security in place, Arcanist Heralas.¡±


    Before Heralas could respond, the vines went wild, lashing and thrashing in guttural fury. They surged toward the ceiling, converging in a writhing mass, before parting to reveal something new.


    A scaled beast emerged, silver as moonlight, its claws marked with glowing runes that faded as it shrieked. Thorny vines coiled around it, burrowing deep into its flesh, pinning the creature in place as it writhed and screamed.


    ¡°What is this little pest doing here, then?¡±

 Chapter 88: The Abomination

    I hadn¡¯t a bloody clue what was happening. Not a single one.


    That gnawing unease had followed me ever since I stepped foot in this damned place. Ever since I became a dragon. Hunted. Hunting. Infiltrating. Killing. Disrupting. Every move I made, every breath I took¡ªit all carried the same thrumming disquiet.


    But here, now, wrapped up in this grotesque mess? I still couldn¡¯t make sense of it.


    Sure, the context was plain as day. The Elves had pranced about with their precious little ritual, aiming to ascend some puffed-up noble prick to Lowgold. I¡¯d tried to stop them. And, like a proper fool, I¡¯d cocked it all up.


    And now? Now I was bound, these bastard vines coiled tight, digging into my scales like serrated knives. Each new jab made my blood boil hotter, but what really stumped me¡ªwhat really got under my scales¡ªwas how the hues were behaving.


    Something was here. Something wrong. It reeked of rot and pus, like the very essence of decay had taken a stroll into my world. I couldn¡¯t describe it better than that. The sheer wrongness of it was maddening, almost feral in its provocation. A primal hatred surged through me, unbidden, and I had no clue where it had come from.


    But I felt it. Felt it as clear as the ache of those vines. The hues¡ªthis prana, this lifeforce of the dungeon¡ªhad gone utterly berserk the moment that thing arrived. Its foul, rancid presence lingered, seeping into the man standing over me, the one who had me tangled up like a hapless fly in his wretched web.


    And now it was happening again. The prana¡¯s rainbow brilliance was swirling, congealing, collapsing around him. And as I watched, it turned into that same rotten, festering muck¡ªblack and oozing, like rot itself had taken a corporeal form and decided to stick around.


    A guttural growl clawed its way out of my throat as another vine plunged deeper. For some reason, the bastard vines kept missing anything vital. Was he doing that deliberately? No. Didn¡¯t matter. What did matter was that I was utterly, infuriatingly stuck. Bollocks!


    The moment I laid eyes on this freak, I knew something was fundamentally wrong with him. What the hell was he? What was that rancid, stinking thing that slithered into the world for a moment before vanishing? And why was the prana itself warping, turning into that vile, putrid filth around him?


    Whatever it was, it was doing something to me. Something beyond driving me furious. The wrongness of it crashed over me like waves of filth. Relentless. Nauseating.


    I needed to kill him.


    No¡ªeliminate him.


    No, not enough¡ªannihilate him.


    INTRUDER. INTRUDER. INTERLOPER! KILL! KILL! KILL HIM! RIP HIM APART! MURDER HIM! KILLMURDERKILLMURDERKILL!


    Another sting of pain dragged me back to reality, the blinding rage retreating into a simmering, lurking beast within. It wasn¡¯t gone¡ªjust waiting, coiled and ready. Whatever he was, this freak didn¡¯t belong here. I should¡¯ve seen it the moment I overheard those pointy-eared twats talking about that ritual, trying to ascend one of their own to Lowgold. Whatever they¡¯d done to him, my dragon instincts were losing their damned minds just looking at him.


    LOWLIFE. PEST. The words burned through my thoughts. The urge to bite his smug head clean off? Never far from the surface.


    Yet here I was, bound and powerless, a stark contrast to the seething beast within. If he truly was Lowgold, I didn¡¯t stand a chance in a straight fight. Worse, I¡¯d been covertly weaving proper lightning magic within the shadow dimension, only for this bastard to somehow sense it. He¡¯d attacked me outright, his vines pulsing with light magic. Light! Of all the blasted luck. I wasn¡¯t even fully intangible anymore.


    But I couldn¡¯t afford to give up.


    Iron-hard vines wrapped around me, constricting with cruel precision, digging into my flesh like serrated traps. Even my strength wasn¡¯t enough to snap them. Phasing through? Out of the question¡ªnot if they still carried light magic. But were they still imbued? I couldn¡¯t tell. There might be a chance.


    I forced some dark mana from my wraith heart into Dimensional Lamina. Resistance. Tsk. Still on cooldown. Think, Jade. Think!


    As I struggled to piece together a plan, the pest at the center of all this madness tightened his grip on the ritualist, Heralas, yanking the trembling elf closer.


    ¡°Ah, Arcanist Heralas, seems you were right,¡± he drawled, his tone thick with condescension. ¡°A bit of experience with these dungeon pests wouldn¡¯t go amiss.¡±


    With a casual flick, the thorny vines slackened from Heralas¡¯s throat, letting him collapse in a pathetic heap.


    ¡°Your little oversight in security is forgiven,¡± the abomination continued, his grin spreading as he turned to me.


    ¡°Now then,¡± he sneered, his gaze roving over my bound form, ¡°I need proper monsters to test my powers. To see if anything can stand against these new abilities of mine.¡±


    The vines shifted, lowering the twisted figure wearing an elven face as he strode toward the cave entrance.


    And me? I was dragged along like some trophy, my bound body jerking behind him. By the time he reached the cavern¡¯s edge, Dimensional Lamina¡¯s cooldown had finally ticked down. My wraith heart thrummed as I pumped it full of dark mana, readying my body for the moment I could act.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    I wouldn¡¯t waste it. Not this time. No matter how much my instincts screamed at me to obliterate this pest¡¯s very existence, I knew better. He was stronger. Much stronger. Wounded pride was a small price to pay for survival. A dead dragonling can¡¯t take revenge.


    Even outside, the dungeon¡¯s lifeforce¡ªits prana¡ªcontinued to spiral towards him, corrupting into that same vile, rotten essence. The air reeked of decay, and his aura was only intensifying. What the hell was he doing?


    The mission brief had warned the biome would be doomed if the elves succeeded. But this? This was something else entirely. Other than the corrupted hues rushing to him, nothing seemed to be happening. Yet.


    Frowning, I attempted to pull up my stat screen.


    It fizzled and glitched, static crackling before vanishing completely.


    Whatever was happening, the reason was becoming sickeningly clear.


    Once we emerged outside, Heralas¡¯s eyes widened, his ashen face betraying something between horror and guilt. It seemed my earlier efforts hadn¡¯t been entirely in vain. After baiting Elnor out, their forces had taken some rather nasty hits¡ªmy poison ensuring both beast and elf alike paid a heavy toll. Bodies still twitched and convulsed on the ground, some writhing in agony as fatigued healers shuffled among them, their exhausted eyes betraying desperation.


    But the moment the abomination stepped out with his entourage of cultists? The atmosphere shifted. The battered elves, who should¡¯ve been groveling at death¡¯s door, suddenly heaved sighs of relief. A few even started singing praises to that smug divine fraud.


    What. The. Actual. Fuck.


    Goddess Selene? Really? Were they blind? Deaf? Nose-dead? Couldn¡¯t they see it? Smell it? This thing wearing an elven face, reeking of putrid rot and death, was no divine blessing. It was a festering tumor on reality, and if I could¡¯ve covered my nose, I would¡¯ve. The stench was overwhelming, clawing its way down my throat like bile.


    At first, I¡¯d thought the bastard was unhinged¡ªthe way he clutched Heralas by the throat like a half-mad tyrant playing with his food. But no, I was wrong. Oh, how wrong I was.


    With a theatrical flourish, vines wrapped around him once more, hoisting him up into a pose so grandiose it bordered on parody. The bastard clearly fancied himself some divine messiah. As if to add insult to injury, a garden of flowers bloomed around the battlefield, their petals glowing.


    Lilies and willows. Imbued with light magic. Wounds healed, poison eased, pain soothed. And, one by one, the soldiers stopped screaming. Their twisted faces softened as the flowers did their work.


    The cultists roared louder now, their praises swelling.


    The bastard had the audacity to laugh, a deep, resonant sound that dripped with smug satisfaction. He raised a hand to acknowledge their praises.


    INTRUDER! PEST! IMPOSTER!


    The words slammed through my mind again, white-hot and unrelenting. Aggression surged, my claws twitching as the urge to strike screamed through my every nerve.


    But I smothered it. Smothered the rage, the instinct to pounce, to rip, to tear.


    Instead, I held firm, keeping my metaphorical claws on the trigger. Dimensional Lamina was ready now, waiting at a moment¡¯s notice to drag me far into the shadowy embrace of the 4th dimension.


    The abomination began to pivot when a thunderous rumble split the air ahead. Oddly familiar, it sent a shiver through me. My gaze darted to the source, where trees toppled like dominos and smoke trailed in thick, ominous lines. Something colossal was barrelling our way, and flanking it was a rolling mist, surging forward with alarming speed. Then, through the haze, glimmered white scales. My breath caught. That behemoth and that serpent¡ªthe ones locked in combat earlier¡ªthey were heading directly for us!


    And they weren¡¯t alone. Monsters from every direction were stampeding toward this very spot. Had the System declared a mass quest for the lot of them at this very moment? Typical. I tried accessing it, only for static to sizzle in response.


    I turned back to the monstrous horde, a scowl on my face. Of all the rotten luck¡ªif they¡¯d only arrived before this wretched ritual reached its crescendo, perhaps we¡¯d stand a fighting chance. But the smirk on the abomination¡¯s grotesque visage said it all: he¡¯d been counting on this.


    As the first beast charged in, a vine erupted from below, consuming it whole. Flesh, bone, everything¡ªdisintegrated in an instant. More followed, and more turned to ash. It was Gold-rank magic at its most horrifying¡ªutter annihilation. Stage 3s, Stage 4s, none were given the courtesy of a fight. Even airborne monsters weren¡¯t spared; vines snaked down from the dungeon ceiling like writhing vipers, snatching them from the air and obliterating them without ceremony.


    Yet still, the monsters came, hurling themselves into oblivion with reckless abandon. It was futile, a slaughterhouse masquerading as an opportunity.


    Then, at last, the heavyweights arrived. The mist serpent and the behemoth.


    The mist serpent struck first, lunging forward in a writhing dance of scales and fog. The air grew heavier as the mist thickened, choking visibility down to a scant few meters. Yet, the proximity of that slithering fiend was undeniable, especially when its massive hood materialized closer, jaws agape and primed to devour the abomination whole.


    The abomination, however, remained unperturbed. With a snap of his arm¡ªa grotesque amalgam of blackened bark and pulsating vines¡ªhe met the serpent¡¯s charge head-on. Mist recoiled and hissed where the monstrous appendage clashed with the creature¡¯s maw. A chilling shriek tore through the mist, and then, just like that, the serpent vanished. Its presence lingered, a whisper in the haze, but its location eluded the senses.


    ¡°Petty tricks,¡± the abomination sneered. ¡°I¡¯d hoped for a challenge, but it seems these pests are as worthless as they look.¡± With that, a massive vine erupted from the ground, spearing upward with ruthless precision. Another shriek split the air as the serpent materialized once more, writhing in agony, impaled yet alive.


    Its gaping maw still managed to muster one final act of defiance, unleashing a beam of icy blue death. The abomination¡¯s vines reacted instantly, weaving into a barrier that absorbed the frozen onslaught. Before the serpent could recoil or escape, another vine struck like a striking cobra, driving clean through its head.


    And just like that, the battle was over before it had truly begun. The dungeon¡¯s supposed apex predator, dispatched with all the ceremony of a butcher trimming fat.


    But the carnage was far from over. The Behemoth, next in line, lumbered forward¡ªa juggernaut of muscle, menace and flames. The abomination, unimpressed, stifled a yawn and shook his head as though enduring a particularly dull conversation. With a whisper of effort, a vine shot upward beneath the Behemoth, its razor-sharp edge finding purchase. The creature¡¯s momentum betrayed it, tearing itself apart on the abomination¡¯s trap before it could land a single blow.


    Hope, fragile and fleeting, turned to ash in my chest. Nothing could stop this monstrosity. Nothing. I almost activated my dimensional lamina to escape right then.


    But then, a rumble. My gaze snapped to the source¡ªa figure stalking through the haze just beyond the Behemoth¡¯s ruin. Red-scaled, serpentine, with a pair of wings and legs to match. It moved with an unsettling familiarity, and in the dim hues, its silhouette struck a nerve. The creature looked like me¡ªa twisted, handless, winged reflection. Its abyssal maw gaped wide, drooling as it crept forward.


    The abomination grinned, the expression almost welcoming. Perhaps, at last, a final challenger worthy of his disdain.

 Chapter 89: A Nightmare

    My gaze landed on the crimson-scaled beast, and something deep within stirred¡ªa sensation I couldn¡¯t quite pin down. Yet the bitter truth loomed. Undeniable. Ominous. This creature, magnificent as it was, didn¡¯t stand a snowball¡¯s chance in a forge. Stage 5 or not, it was up against a gold-rank abomination.


    It all felt dreadfully wrong. But the moment that scaled terror made its move, I¡¯d vanish¡ªstraight into the fourth dimension, flying off like a thief in the night. Because if I stayed, there¡¯d likely be no dawn for me. Why this abomination had kept me alive was no puzzle, mind. It had probably seen the runes sputter and fail when it seized me. Not exactly a riddle to deduce I¡¯d been the one mucking up their sinister little plans. Likely, they¡¯d want to wring me dry for information about some imagined benefactor.


    The elves were already retreating into the cave, Heralas at their helm, as the battle raged on. A shame, really. But my chance to escape hinged on the abomination getting properly distracted. Here¡¯s hoping the beast would put up a decent fight. Or so I thought.


    The elf stood amid the wreckage. It was a tapestry of carnage at his feet. Chitin, flesh, scales, and stone all reduced to unrecognizable heaps of ash and ichor. His vines glistened as they slithered over the ground, writhing like serpents sniffing out fresh prey. Yet his gaze never wavered, fixed firmly on the far-off beast.


    The air shifted.


    Before I could so much as blink, a storm of vines erupted from the ground, dozens twisting and darting forward, their tips crackling with light mana sharp enough to cleave scale from bone. The poor beast didn¡¯t even twitch. And then, in the blink of an eye, it was over¡ªor so it seemed.


    I almost closed my eyes to spare myself the grim spectacle. But I didn¡¯t. And by Thalador¡¯s mercy, it¡¯s a good thing I didn¡¯t.


    Because the moment the vines touched the beast, its form folded in on itself, rippling like water disturbed by a stone. The elf¡¯s smug grin faltered, a rare crack in his polished arrogance. His vines struck nothing but empty air.


    And I, well, I shared his bafflement. The beast wasn¡¯t some mere illusion¡ªI¡¯d stake my life on it. The hues never lied. It was as real as the earth beneath our feet, right up until the instant the vines reached it. My eyes widened in astonishment.


    The beast¡¯s image flickered, then reappeared a few paces to the left, now just a touch closer. It tilted its massive head, jaws gaping, drool cascading like a leaky cistern. It made no sound, no move, yet its presence felt... ravenous. When the drool met the earth, it sizzled faintly.


    The abomination sneered, his vines slithering back, reshaping themselves into serrated blades before vanishing entirely. He squared his shoulders, widening his stance. ¡°Illusions? How utterly pathetic. Is that the best you¡¯ve got, you wretched vermin?¡±


    The beast didn¡¯t so much as flinch. Its maw stretched even wider, drool now pouring in torrents. And still, it simply... waited.


    The entire battle clawed at something deep within me, an unease that grew with every passing moment. What was this creature?


    A low rumble broke my thoughts, and the ground beneath the beast gave way. Serrated vines, countless and bladed, erupted in a deadly cascade, aiming to skewer it where it stood. But once again, the beast rippled¡ªits body folding inward¡ªand reappeared a few steps ahead, closer still. Its gaping maw stretched even wider, saliva cascading like a crimson waterfall mixed with streaks of blood.


    The cycle repeated. The vines writhed and attacked from every conceivable angle, probing, slicing, encircling in a net of death. Yet not one strike found its mark. The creature didn¡¯t dodge, didn¡¯t even blink. It simply dissolved, folding reality around itself as though the very idea of harm was an affront.


    And yet, as the battle raged on, the beast grew ever more horrifying. Its jaw hung grotesquely now, tearing apart under the weight of the hunger that radiated from its being. Blood mixed with saliva, pooling beneath it, and its neck bulged unnaturally where the hungry maw strained its very flesh.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Then, for the first time, it moved.


    Not with the deliberate menace of a predator, but with a chilling, fluid grace. Its wings unfurled slightly, their span impossibly large, a grotesque mockery of proportion. The ground beneath its claws shimmered as if the dungeon floor itself recoiled at its touch.


    The abomination¡¯s frustration mounted. He launched another attack, then another, each more furious than the last. Vines lashed out in blurs of motion, slicing, coiling, seeking to ensnare the beast in a web of relentless strikes. But the creature defied them all¡ªnot by evasion, but by ceasing to exist in the space they occupied.


    Each time it vanished, the space it left behind shimmered faintly, like a lingering echo of its presence. And each time it returned, it was more terrifying. Its jaw tore further, blood streaming freely now, dripping in grotesque rivulets. The sight was almost too much to bear, yet I couldn¡¯t look away.


    Then came the sound.


    A low hum filled the dungeon, faint yet resonant, wrong in a way I couldn¡¯t describe. The noise seemed to settle in my very bones. Discordant. Alien. Something inside me screamed. This was not right.


    The abomination attacked again, vines bursting forth in another futile effort to trap the beast. But this time, as the creature dissolved once more, the elf hesitated. His vines hovered protectively around him, their tips bristling with mana. ¡°Face me properly, beast!¡± he snarled, frustration dripping from his voice.


    The beast reappeared, its bloodied snout mere inches from the elf¡¯s face, and my heart seized.


    ¡°Properly, you say?¡± it sneered, its mangled jaw curling into a cruel mockery of a grin.


    The elf immediately screamed as vines erupted in every direction, skewering the beast through head, body, limbs, and jaws. For a moment, it seemed the beast had been felled. Yet even as the abomination¡¯s cries grew more desperate, the impaled beast shimmered and rippled¡ªdissolving once more as though it had never been there.


    I stood frozen, unsure of what I was witnessing. More red-scaled creatures emerged¡ªout of bushes, from the shadows of trees, and, impossibly, from thin air. Above him. Behind him.


    ...Behind me?!


    Chilled to the marrow, I fought every fibre of instinct screaming for me to activate Dimensional Lamina. Instead, I held firm as the serpentine creature slithered ever closer, lowering its sinuous head until we were eye to eye. It lingered, a heartbeat stretching to an eternity. Then, as if my terror were a jest it found amusing, it winked.


    With a casual flick, it dropped something at my bound form before slipping back into the shadows. It was only then that I noticed it¡ªsomething familiar. My eyes widened. The badger?! She scampered towards me, snout-first, and threw herself into an embrace. My snout, to be precise.


    But¡­ how? I was certain I¡¯d left her miles behind. Questions swirled like storm clouds in my mind, but none thundered louder than what on earth was that red-scaled beast? It bore a resemblance to a dragon, but not quite. No answers presented themselves, so I settled for the immediate.


    I activated Dimensional Lamina, slipping briefly into the fourth dimension before reappearing, unbound. The red-scaled beast didn¡¯t seem remotely hostile¡ªquite the contrary. I glanced at the badger, still happily nestled by my claws, clutching my bag of monster cores as if it were her prize. My gaze shifted to the battlefield. The chaos was far from over.


    The elf was still a lowgold. Around him, vines erupted and coiled, digging into his flesh as they wove together into a titanic, writhing mass. His form swelled, grotesquely verdant, until a towering giant loomed before me. Vines, thicker than trees, burst forth in every direction. It was a dreadful spectacle.


    And yet, the red-scaled beast grinned wider, almost mockingly. This had been a game to it all along. Illusory clones? No. I knew better. Each one was terrifyingly real. The clones descended on the giant, ripping chunks of flesh with voracious glee. The elf¡¯s regeneration was impressive but futile¡ªoutpaced by the relentless, ravenous swarm.


    Every attack the giant managed was shrugged off with a casual disdain. The red-scaled beasts¡ªa swarm now numbering in the hundreds¡ªdevoured it alive, laughing, roaring, and tearing in a macabre symphony. The elf¡¯s screams echoed, piercing the air, growing shriller as desperation set in. It tried to flee.


    Foolish. Its legs were severed in moments, more beasts emerging to swarm its writhing form. They came from every direction¡ªabove, below, beyond what the eye could comprehend. A scarlet tide, relentless and consuming. My head spun, caught in the surreal horror of it all. I wasn¡¯t even their target, and yet it felt as though reality itself was fraying at the edges. Turning into a nightmare.


    The giant¡¯s regeneration faltered, its screams reaching a shattering crescendo. Then, from the monstrous mass, a naked elf burst forth. It clawed at its head, sobbing, screaming, utterly broken.


    PEST.


    The word hung in my mind, a death knell. The beasts closed in for the final act, tearing the elf apart limb by limb, savouring the destruction as they consumed him alive. And then, as if the curtain had fallen, they vanished¡ªrippling out of existence until the battlefield lay still, as if they had never been.


    The wind stirred, and I stood slack-jawed, struggling to piece together what I¡¯d just witnessed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t strain that little dragon brain of yours,¡± a voice purred from behind me, smooth as silk and twice as chilling. My blood ran cold.

 Chapter 90: A Little Chat

    I stood stock-still, my mind a knotted ball of threads, each one tugging at the other. Who wouldn¡¯t be in such a state? Yet, curiously, there was no suffocating aura of danger emanating from her. Her¡ªthe red-scaled beast¡ªloomed just behind me. Worse still, she knew. She knew I was a dragon. My pulse was a staccato drumbeat, though, as usual, my badger companion remained gloriously unbothered. With a chirp and a cheerful wag of her tail, she greeted the beast as if it were an old friend popping round for tea.


    Ah, yes. She had returned the badger to me. Credit where credit was due, I supposed. But even so, prudence demanded a cautious approach. Ever so slowly, I turned, craning my neck in a deliberate arc to steal a glance behind me.


    And then I froze, but not for the reason you might think.


    It wasn¡¯t the red-scaled beast anymore. Not as such.


    Instead, standing there was a woman cloaked in a gown of sumptuous, blood-red fabric that shimmered like molten rubies caught in candlelight. She towered¡ªeasily over nine feet, dwarfing any human¡ªwith a grace that seemed almost indecent for someone of her stature. Her piercing eyes found mine, gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something disarmingly¡­ fond.


    ¡°Erm¡­ h-hello?¡± I managed, my voice wobbling like a hatchling¡¯s first attempt at a roar. Immediately, I felt the sting of regret. Why, oh why, did I even try?


    To my utter shock, she smiled. A sharp, indulgent smile that was equal parts predatory and¡­ oddly comforting, like a wolf tucking in its lamb for a nap.


    ¡°Oh, darling,¡± she purred, her tone dripping with mockery and affection in equal measure. ¡°That little squeak was adorable. So nervous, so polite! Aren¡¯t you just the sweetest thing?¡±


    I blinked. Huh? Words evaded me entirely. ¡°I, uh¡­ well¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hush, now,¡± she interrupted with an airy wave of her hand. A second voice, identical to hers, chimed in from behind, ¡°Let me have a proper look at you.¡±


    Her double now circled me, heels clicking softly against the ground as though it were a marble ballroom rather than a monster-stained battlefield. She appraised me with a critical eye, tilting her head like a connoisseur examining a flawed yet intriguing piece of art.


    ¡°Mmm. You¡¯re real,¡± she mused. ¡°Albeit a bit scrawnier than I¡¯d hoped, even after your evolution.¡± Her crimson lips curled into a smirk. ¡°But that¡¯s quite alright. You¡¯ll grow into those claws of yours¡­ eventually.¡±


    I bristled, my pride rankling. This was not how I¡¯d imagined this encounter playing out.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t pout, little one. You¡¯re charming as you are. And there¡¯s a spark in you¡ªa little fire. I quite like that.¡±


    Before I could formulate a snappy retort, her sharp, elegant fingers tapped my snout, and, to my utter mortification, I instinctively leaned into the touch. She laughed, a rich, melodious sound.


    ¡°You remind me of myself,¡± she said, her voice almost wistful. ¡°A scrappy little thing with far too much to prove. And look at me now.¡± She gestured grandly to herself. ¡°Granted, I¡¯ve still a long road ahead, but that hunger you have¡­ it¡¯s rather nostalgic. Couldn¡¯t help but feel a twinge of pride watching you. I even lent a hand, here and there. Shielded you from some prying eyes, tilted the odds in your favour¡ªjust a smidge.¡± She winked, her meaning clear.


    My eyes widened. So someone had been deflecting divination attempts. That explained Elnor¡¯s recent wobbles at his supposed red core.


    ¡°I, uh¡­ thank you for¡ª¡± I began, but she cut me off again, this time with a maternal pat on my head.


    ¡°Hush, little one,¡± she said with a grin. ¡°No need for gratitude. If anything, I should thank you for keeping me entertained!¡±


    ¡­ Yes, something was definitely off about all this. Part of me wanted to demand how long she¡¯d been watching me, but my better judgment suggested shelving that line of inquiry. Instead, I offered a tentative smile¡ªor at least, I hoped it was a smile. With my face, it was likely more of a nightmare-inducing grimace.


    ¡°Now, what shall we do with you, hmm? You¡¯ve certainly been causing quite the stir,¡± her clone mused, circling me with deliberate, catlike precision.


    ¡°Hmm, just let me go, I guess?¡± I ventured, though even I could hear the lack of conviction in my voice.


    The towering woman¡¯s lips curled into a grin that could only be described as indulgent, leaning just slightly closer. ¡°Oh, let you go, you say? My dear, you wound me,¡± she said, her voice a honeyed with mock offense. ¡°After all, I¡¯ve gone through such trouble on your behalf. Simply cutting you loose now would feel... unsporting.¡±


    The clone, still circling me with that unnervingly elegant gait, chimed in with a tilt of her head. ¡°Besides, you¡¯ve proven to be such delightful entertainment. Letting you go? Whatever would I do for fun?¡±


    Whatever she was, she was powerful. The kind of powerful that made even seasoned delvers tread lightly. I reckoned she was easily gold core, if not more. I had questions¡ªfar too many of them¡ªbut foremost among them was: where did I stand in her grand design? She knew what I was, had been watching me, and yet bore no trace of hostility. But her motives? Those were a mystery wrapped in silk and smoke. My wings twitched, betraying my unease, though the badger, ever oblivious, pawed at my snout, wagging her tail as though this were all some jolly afternoon game.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Look,¡± I began, trying for a steadier tone this time, ¡°I don¡¯t mean to sound ungrateful¡ªbecause, honestly, I do appreciate the whole¡­ ¡®saving me from prying eyes¡¯ thing, and even giving me a leg up against that red core,¡± I paused, trying to read her reaction, ¡°but I¡¯m really not much of a long-term pet.¡±


    The clone paused mid-step, her lips curving into a smirk that made me instantly regret my word choice. ¡°Pet?¡± she echoed, rolling the word on her tongue. ¡°Oh, little one, don¡¯t flatter yourself. If I wanted a pet, I¡¯d have chosen something a bit more... polished. No offense, of course. You¡¯re endearing, but let¡¯s be honest¡ªyou¡¯re more of an¡­ entertaining street cat.¡±


    The original clapped her hands softly, the sound strangely melodious. ¡°Yes! A street cat. Scrappy, slightly feral, always stumbling into situations far beyond her station. The parallels to my younger days are uncanny. Really, it¡¯s almost touching.¡±


    I bristled at the ¡°feral¡± remark, but before I could muster a sharp retort, she stepped closer, her piercing eyes meeting mine. It was only then I realised that, despite her towering height, she was still level with me¡ªa reminder of my own recent growth that I wasn¡¯t yet accustomed to.


    ¡°Now, here¡¯s the thing, darling,¡± she said softly, her tone dropping into something dangerously intimate. ¡°It¡¯s not my decision alone. You see, some of my peers wouldn¡¯t hesitate to snatch you up this instant¡ªwhisk you off to some high tower on the far side of this forsaken continent, guarded day and night by The Order¡¯s finest. After all, a dragon is¡­ well, let¡¯s say you¡¯re an asset of unimaginable value.¡±


    That statement alone carried layers. Forsaken continent? The Order? Her peers? My mind barely had time to begin untangling the threads before she continued, cutting through my thoughts.


    ¡°But I¡¯m not like them,¡± she said, with a sly smile. ¡°I won¡¯t rob you of your choice. No, if you¡¯re to follow me, it will be because you choose to. And to make that choice, you¡¯ll need to know more. But for now¡ªah, just a moment.¡±


    A rustling in the bushes broke the moment, and one of her clones emerged, dragging a struggling elf by the scruff like an unruly pup. Without ceremony, the clone dropped him at her feet and vanished.


    It took but a heartbeat to recognize him. Black hair. Stocky, for an elf. Heralas¡ªthe cultists¡¯ second leader. The moment his gaze landed on me, his face drained of all colour, as though he''d just caught sight of his own ghost. Feeling the awkwardness settle in, I gave him a half-hearted wave with one claw. Splendid¡ªmy nerves, clear as day.


    But alas, his alarm wasn¡¯t directed at me. No, his wide, panicked eyes flitted between the crimson-clad woman before him and her identical doppelg?nger. The poor chap looked positively beside himself with dread.


    "Now then," she purred, her grin growing wicked. "The real question is... what to do with you?"


    "Hopefully it doesn¡¯t involve killing me, like you did to that noble whinger just now," he managed, somehow dredging up a sliver of cheek despite his obvious terror.


    ¡°Oh, fret not,¡± she replied airily. ¡°Your life holds far more value to me than his ever did. Besides, with your current strength, you¡¯d barely make a passable snack.¡±


    That little jab made him bristle like a startled cat.


    ¡°But, as always,¡± she continued with a languid wave of her hand, ¡°I like to give people options. You follow them... or find yourself wishing for nightmares instead.¡±


    "I¡¯m going to regret this no matter what,¡± he spat, though his bravado was clearly on its last legs. ¡°So, out with it. What dastardly deed do you want me to perform? Be your spy? Slay another noble? Or something equally sinister?¡±


    "Ah, that¡¯s where you¡¯re wrong," she said, her smile sharpening. "What I¡¯m offering is nothing short of a life-changer. I¡¯ve seen through you¡ªwatched your every move, heard your whispered doubts when you thought yourself alone. I¡¯ve been beside you since the moment you set foot in this dungeon.¡±


    His complexion turned an impressive shade of bone-white, his terror a feast for her predatory grin.


    As for me? Well, I was merely a bystander in this twisted drama. My badger companion nudged me with a monster core from my pack, and with a casual pop, I swallowed it. The familiar spark of power rippled through me, and a notification flashed across my vision: +1 Maximum Mana. Lovely timing, truly.


    ¡°Your doubts, Heralas, are well-founded,¡± she pressed on. ¡°The goddess you¡¯ve spent your life worshiping is gone. Replaced. What now answers your prayers is no divine being¡ªit¡¯s an imposter. And worse, it¡¯s spreading its influence, amassing an army to consume this continent whole.¡±


    "I¡­ might need you to elaborate on that," Heralas stammered, clearly not thrilled with this revelation.


    I found myself sharing the sentiment.


    ¡°No need to get bogged down in details¡ªyet. Let me make my intentions crystal clear. My goal,¡± she declared with an unsettlingly cheery smile, ¡°is to kill the Royal Family of Lithrindel.¡±


    With that, a massive system-like screen materialized before Heralas and her. His eyes widened in shock.


    ¡°Soul magic¡­¡± he breathed, his voice trembling.


    Did he just call the screen soul magic?


    ¡°What a quaint term,¡± she replied with a shake of her head.


    ¡°But¡­ only the highest clergy have access to soul magic!¡± he blurted, his disbelief spilling over.


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s where you¡¯ve been duped,¡± she said, bemused. ¡°Soul magic is the foundation of magic outside this continent. Keeping it locked away in the hands of the clergy? Pure, laughable control tactics. Pathetic, really. Anyway, back to business¡ªthis contract here is my little way of keeping you in line. Break it, and you¡¯ll wish I¡¯d ended you here and now.¡±


    The screen floated ominously beside him, its glowing text clear to all but me, apparently.


    "Other than pledging undying loyalty and keeping mum about what you¡¯ve told me, there doesn¡¯t seem to be much here. What¡¯s the catch?¡±


    ¡°No catch,¡± she said breezily. ¡°Carry on as usual. Spin a tale about why your little ritual went awry. This contract will shield you from any pesky divination attempts.¡±


    Heralas nodded reluctantly. ¡°And the part where you said you¡¯d help me reach my true potential?¡±


    ¡°Soul magic,¡± she replied simply. ¡°You¡¯ll figure it out soon enough. For now, play the shepherd¡ªgather the terrified flock cowering in that cave of yours and get them in line. I¡¯ll drop by for a little chat later to hash out the finer points.¡±


    With a flick of her wrist, Heralas vanished, though it was clear he had more to ask. She turned to me then, her demeanor softening in a way that made my scales itch.


    ¡°First things first,¡± she said. ¡°I always forget my manners. Let me introduce myself properly. Gweneth Draycotte, current head of the Grey Tower. Though you, my dear Jade, may call me Gwen.¡± Her smile widened with warmth. ¡°Now, shall we pay your father a visit? I imagine you¡¯ve been missing him terribly.¡±

 Chapter 91: Beginning of A New Journey

    The forest stretched endlessly, its towering trees so thick and imposing that only the faintest shafts of sunlight dared intrude, painting the world in a shadowy twilight. The air was steeped in an eerie hush.


    Crack-BOOM!


    Through this murky ambience, a fist wreathed in flames blazed into motion, its owner weaving deftly through hulking, wolf-like beasts. A claw swiped from the right¡ªgracefully dodged. On his face was a grin I¡¯d never quite seen before, a rakish confidence that felt almost foreign. Another narrow miss, another counter¡ªa flaming fist smashed home with an explosive blast, sending a wolf¡¯s head scattering into ash and ruin.


    The ground beneath his boots bore the charred scars of his movements. Every step he took left a sizzling mark. In moments, three of the monstrous creatures¡ªeach easily Stage 4 by their size¡ªwere reduced to smouldering corpses. And all of it happened right before my eyes.


    A raucous cheer erupted behind him as four strangers emerged from the shadows. One of them, a round-cheeked, jovial fellow, clapped him heartily on the shoulder, grinning ear to ear.


    ¡°Reiner, mate! Honestly, no one¡¯s going to believe you¡¯ve never hunted monsters before. You make it look downright natural! Bloody show-off,¡± he added with a wink, offering a fist bump.


    It had hardly been long since I¡¯d last seen him, but it felt like lifetimes. The tears threatened, unbidden, but I swallowed them back. Beside me, Gwen watched the scene unfold with a smirk of quiet amusement.


    ¡°Not sure I¡¯d call it natural, Giles,¡± Father quipped, gesturing to the gash across his hand. ¡°Had a few close calls.¡±


    At this, another man stepped forward, casting a spell that mended the wound. His skirt fluttered as he worked.


    ¡°Close calls or not, hard to believe you¡¯ve no experience with this lark. Guess there¡¯s a reason the Master herself recommended you for the team,¡± the mage remarked.


    ¡°Still, landing stage fours on your first outing? You¡¯ve set the bar, mate!¡± chimed in Giles, the jovial one. ¡°These missions¡¯ll be an absolute doddle from now on.¡±


    ¡°Scaredy-cat,¡± the skirt-wearer snorted. ¡°You¡¯ve always hated the front lines, even back when you were supposed to be a warrior.¡±


    ¡°Oi! It¡¯s hard work! I¡¯m just glad we¡¯ve got someone competent now to keep you and Beatrice safe while you¡¯re prancing about with your spells, Cedric.¡±


    From somewhere below, a petite girl with wide eyes beamed. ¡°Brilliant! Though it¡¯d be even better if you wore a skirt, too! So much more freedom for movement!¡± she exclaimed, practically bouncing on the spot.


    Father ruffled her hairs, grinning. ¡°Maybe next time, Beatrice.¡±


    The tallest of the group, a stoic woman wielding a hammer like it was an extension of herself, cut in with a faint growl. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to her. If anyone else starts taking fashion advice from Cedric, I¡¯m quitting.¡±


    Cedric smirked. ¡°Jealous, are we, Lavinia? Still can¡¯t handle how good I look?¡±


    Lavinia¡¯s glare was so withering it could¡¯ve melted stone, and for a moment, I thought she might throttle him outright.


    I stayed at the edge of it all, watching. I couldn¡¯t recall the last time I¡¯d seen Father like this¡ªhappy. Laughing, bantering, living. He¡¯d always carried such anger, not at me, but for me¡ªfor the unfairness of the world. And now, for the first time in what felt like forever, that weight seemed to have lifted. Just a little.


    I¡¯d asked him countless times about his past. About her¡ªmy mother. Every time, I was met with silence or evasion, never a straight answer. At first, I thought he was lying to me, that he didn¡¯t want me to know. But over time, it felt more like he didn¡¯t know himself. As though the truth eluded him as much as it did me.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let that happy smile fool you,¡± Gwen murmured from beside me. ¡°He¡¯s still a very broken man inside.¡±


    ¡°Broken?¡± I echoed, my gaze flickering between her and him.


    ¡°A man whose memories have been wiped away along with his past,¡± she said. ¡°An extreme measure to ensure certain secrets never see the light of day. What else could I call him, if not broken?¡±


    I stared at him, my expression blank, though my thoughts churned with unease. ¡°I suppose the reason is¡­ me.¡±


    ¡°Of course it¡¯s you, little one,¡± Gwen replied matter-of-factly, her slitted eyes gleaming as she turned to me. ¡°I cannot stress enough how precious your existence is¡ªas a true dragon. You¡¯re not just important. You¡¯re vital.¡±


    She began to move, weaving through the dense cover of giant trees. The hollow beside us opened into a steep path leading to the hill¡¯s peak. I hesitated for a moment before following. When we reached the summit, the sun was rising, its rays stretching out from the distant east. The view was breathtaking, a landscape so tranquil, so untouched¡­ yet, in my heart, I felt it was a place ripe for fire. For ruin.


    She gestured towards the horizon as she spoke. ¡°I gave him a choice earlier,¡± she began. ¡°He took it. I assured him I¡¯d find you¡ªhis daughter¡ªand keep you safe if you were alive. Now, it¡¯s your turn. Your time to make a choice.¡±


    Her words pulled me back from the vista, and I looked at her sharply. Gwen¡¯s expression was unreadable, her lips curling into a faint smile.


    ¡°Something much larger is brewing on this continent, little dragonling,¡± she continued. ¡°Something far grander than an intruder rallying an army under the guise of divinity. I could take you and your father away from it all. Far from the chaos, to a place untouched by this conflict. You¡¯d be guarded by the Order¡¯s finest, nurtured into everything you could become. Monsters, bound and served to you on a silver platter. You¡¯d be royalty, a pampered little princess, your every need met.¡±


    ¡°Sounds too good to be true,¡± I said flatly. ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡±


    Her smile widened. ¡°Ah, I thought you¡¯d catch on. The catch, my dear, is your freedom. Outside this forsaken continent, Monarchs wage wars for power, Families and Sects engage in endless blood feuds, and paradise is but a dream. It¡¯s brutal out there, even more so than here. But under The Order¡ªthe organisation I belong to¡ªyou¡¯d be safe. Every comfort, every advantage... at the cost of your autonomy.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Her words sent an electric jolt down my spine, my scales prickling with unease. My chest tightened, instincts clawing at me, demanding rebellion. The idea of such a gilded cage¡ªno matter how comfortable¡ªwas anathema. To be confined was no life at all.


    I felt it. A primal defiance surging through me. A fire in my very bones. Perhaps it was born of a past steeped in caution and self-denial, where every step had to be calculated. A time when I couldn¡¯t truly embrace what I was. Living that false life... it had left its mark.


    What she offered made perfect sense for anyone who valued survival. But these past few days had taught me there was more to life than simply keeping it safe. I had felt the thrill of discovery, the rush of freedom, the raw vitality of following my nature. This... this offer felt like a slap in the face of everything I¡¯d come to realise.


    I couldn¡¯t do it.


    ¡°What about the second option?¡± I asked at last.


    Gwen¡¯s smile shifted, turning rueful. ¡°Freedom, little one, comes with its own array of paths. You¡¯d choose your own way. Stay here, perhaps¡ªdelve into the shadows of your past, uncover secrets buried in obscurity. Or,¡± her grin sharpened, electric and predatory, ¡°you could join me. Embrace the chaos. Be the storm that tears this rotten, festering order apart. Cut through the lies, the false god, the pretence of divinity.


    ¡°Slay the so-called goddess who dares to play at being a deity. Burn her empire, her nobility, her armies, to the ground. Take your rage and forge it into a legacy that this continent won¡¯t soon forget.¡± She stepped closer, her blazing eyes locking with mine. ¡°But make no mistake¡ªthere¡¯d be no safety nets. No silver platters. Just you, your will, and the fire you choose to unleash.¡±


    Something about her words sent a shiver of sharp, almost pleasurable anticipation through me. My scales tingled, my pupils dilating ever so slightly. I didn¡¯t like being cornered by choices, and yet... this second option called to me like nothing else.


    To uncover the truths of my past. To explore who¡ªwhat¡ªI truly was. To embrace my nature, free and unbound.


    The choice was obvious.


    "[GWEN! Surely you¡¯re not seriously entertaining this madness!]" A sudden burst of static yanked me out of my thoughts. I glanced up at Gwen, who was clutching a marble from which the voice emanated. "[Erryn would roast your scaly arse for even thinking about it!]"


    ¡°Oh, Kaelen, you worry too much about that old crone,¡± Gwen replied with a smirk. ¡°Leave her to me. I¡¯ve a knack for persuasion, and you might just find her choice surprising. I know her better than you do, after all.¡±


    ¡°[Yes, of course, as a Wyvern you clearly have unparalleled insight into the workings of dragons],¡± the voice sniped. ¡°[But she¡¯s not the only one you ought to worry about, is she?]¡±


    Gwen¡¯s gaze wandered off into the distance. ¡°Believe me, I¡¯m painfully aware.¡±


    A sigh crackled through the marble. [And yet, here you are, charging ahead anyway.]


    ¡°As I said, I gave her both options¡ªjust as you insisted¡ªand she¡¯s free to choose.¡±


    [But the freedom part¡­]


    ¡°What, would you have preferred I spin some pretty little lie? Oh, grow up, Kaelen. She¡¯d curse me to the Void the moment she realized her gilded cage wasn¡¯t quite so shiny. No, I simply told her the truth.¡±


    The voice on the other end fell silent, and for a brief moment, I wondered if the connection had dropped. Then came a resigned sigh. ¡°[Hah... I suppose you¡¯re right. As much as it pains me to admit it. Still, I want no part in this. When it all goes sideways¡ªand it will¡ªI¡¯ll wash my talons of it. No dragons here. Not one. Not a single scale on this forsaken continent.]¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re utterly hopeless at taking responsibility, aren¡¯t you?¡± Gwen teased, chuckling. ¡°But don¡¯t fret, I¡¯m fully prepared to bear the brunt of my choices.¡±


    ¡°[Oh, I know you are,]¡± Kaelen shot back, ¡°[Any chance I can still talk you out of it?]¡±


    ¡°None whatsoever.¡±


    ¡°[Didn¡¯t think so,]¡± he muttered. ¡°[But tread carefully. Just don¡¯t go roping her into your schemes straight away. Lithrindel isn¡¯t what it used to be. Even someone like you needs to watch your step. It¡¯s more dangerous now than ever.]¡±


    ¡°I know that all too well, Kaelen,¡± Gwen said, her tone suddenly serious. ¡°I¡¯m reckless, not suicidal.¡±


    ¡°[Here¡¯s hoping you don¡¯t muck it up, then.]¡±


    She grinned. ¡°I never do.¡±


    The glow of the marble dimmed as Kaelen¡¯s voice faded into silence. Gwen tucked it away with a nonchalant flick of her wrist, her smile lingering as she turned to me. ¡°Don¡¯t mind him. A bit grumpy, overly righteous, and far too fond of lecturing, but he¡¯s got a good heart under all that bluster.¡±


    I could see that.


    I turned my gaze to the horizon. ¡°I think I might be a fool for even considering the second choice here.¡±


    Gwen¡¯s lips curved into an indulgent smirk. ¡°That¡¯s just who you are¡ªa foolish little dragonling.¡±


    Her words stung, though not unkindly. ¡°I just¡­ I want to do it all on my own. Earn my own power. Uncover my own past. I¡¯ve already stumbled onto a few clues.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Her ears perked up with interest, betraying genuine curiosity.


    I hesitated, half-expecting her to already know. For someone as formidable as Gwen, ignorance seemed improbable, yet¡­ ¡°Yeah. Someone I saved mentioned I look like their princess¡ªspitting image, in fact, when I¡¯m in my half-human form. He was from a clan of Drakkaris. In Vraal''Kor.¡±


    ¡°¡­Fascinating,¡± she murmured, her expression shifting into something sharper, hungrier for understanding. ¡°A beastkin species with the remnants of dragon blood. They¡¯re even rumoured to shift into dragon form upon reaching a certain power threshold.¡±


    ¡°Drakkaris have dragon blood?¡± I asked, bewildered. Now that I thought about it, the name was painfully obvious. Drakkari. Should have guessed.


    ¡°Of course. All beastkin species descend from primal beasts, their bloodlines diluted through the ages. The difference between a pureblood Drakkari and your form¡ªa half-human Drakkari hybrid¡ªis barely discernible now.¡±


    Her words settled into my mind like seeds, their implications sprouting into possibilities. One thing stood out, though, a path that felt inevitable. ¡°I think¡­ I think I might already have my next lead. Whether it¡¯s coincidence or fate, I can¡¯t ignore it.¡±


    Gwen¡¯s grin broadened as her hand came to rest atop my head, her fingers raking through my scales with a fondness that felt oddly disarming. ¡°Well, well. What¡­ interesting timing we have here,¡± she remarked.


    I itched to probe further¡ªwhat exactly did she mean by "interesting"? But the thought was wrenched from me, my focus snapping to the forest behind. A pang shot through my chest as my gaze lingered on the trees. Shadows of a life. Something I wasn¡¯t ready to revisit.


    ¡°The choice is yours,¡± Gwen said. ¡°If you want to see him. Even if it¡¯s just to say goodbye.¡±


    Oh, how I wanted to. Every fibre of my being cried out to turn back, to face my father one last time. But¡­


    I wasn¡¯t ready.


    He was already broken¡ªbecause of me. His memories, his past, wiped clean to keep my secret buried. Neither of us knew what had truly happened. And now, as a fully-fledged dragon, the question gnawed at me: was I still a danger to him?


    The road ahead offered no room for safety nets or second chances. It was a path riddled with uncertainty, strewn with peril, and I had no idea what awaited me¡ªor who might come for me next.


    Did I dare risk dragging him into that?


    I wasn¡¯t powerful¡ªnot yet. Gwen and that monstrosity had made it perfectly clear just how woefully inadequate I still was. There was so much more to learn, so much strength to gain, enough that one day I wouldn¡¯t be forced to make such choices.


    ¡°Just seeing him happy¡­ that¡¯s enough for me.¡± A faint smile played on my lips as I turned toward the horizon, now bathed in the full light of the sun. ¡°I think I¡¯ve got my heading.¡±


    No sooner had the words left me than movement caught my eye¡ªa squadron of flying, gargoyle-like creatures closing in fast. My wings flared wide, claws flexing as I launched myself skyward, a scaly missile hurtling toward the first foe.


    The world could hurl whatever it fancied my way.


    My claws struck first, tearing through its wailing form.


    My path was crystal clear¡ªto carve out a place of my own.


    It lunged as I twisted sharply aside.


    Let¡¯s be honest, though¡ª


    A jet of flame scorched through its skull.


    ¡ªit¡¯s a far easier task¡­


    [You have slain a Level 2 Basaltoid Sentinel (IV).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    ¡­when you can grow stronger by killing and devouring your enemies.


    I fixed the others with a feral, gleaming gaze. Hungry didn¡¯t even begin to cover it.

 Prelude 2.1

    Master Vasilisa stirred from slumber to the unwelcome rhythm of pounding, each knock hammering its way into her dream of transmutation. Her feathered wings twitched, and a vein of indignation threatened to burst. It wasn¡¯t the soothing hum of bubbling cauldrons or the crackle of alchemical flames lulling her just moments ago¡ªit was persistent knocking on her chamber door.


    Who, in all the damned realms, dared disturb her precious little sleep? A quick glance outside confirmed it was still very dark. Whoever it was, oh, they were royally screwed.


    ¡°What ungodly hour is this?¡± she growled, throwing off her blanket with dramatic flair. She shuffled into worn slippers and tugged on a threadbare robe that once boasted luxury but now resembled a relic of her busier priorities. Grumbling about the indignities of a master alchemist''s life, she shuffled toward the door like a storm cloud on legs.


    ¡°This better be important,¡± she barked, yanking the door open to reveal a sweating servant, who looked as if he''d been run through several rounds of panic.


    ¡°Apologies, Master Vasilisa,¡± the servant stammered, bowing his head. ¡°But there¡¯s been¡­ something in the laboratory. I didn¡¯t know what to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Spit it out, you dimwit!¡± she snapped, her crown of feathers bristling.


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ there were noises¡ªhisses and clinks¡ªand someone was caught sneaking around in there.¡±


    Her brow furrowed. Caught? The vein of anger twitched again, and she let out an exasperated sigh. ¡°What in all seven shades of hell are the guards for? Catch the bastard, chain them up, and toss them to the enforcers! Why am I being woken for this nonsense?¡±


    She made to shut the door on the quivering servant, muttering curses about the complete ineptitude of everyone under her command, when the servant blurted out, ¡°It was one of your new apprentices! I thought you might want to see her before... something happens. The noises are... escalating.¡±


    Vasilisa froze mid-door slam, her irritation replaced by a budding scandal. One of the new apprentices? Oh yes, there were two fresh-faced fools sent her way on recommendation from the Bloodtide Sect. Had one of them truly dared to tamper with her precious reagents¡ªor worse, swipe a few potions for personal gain?


    Absolutely. Appalling.


    Her reputation as chief alchemist could not afford even the whiff of apprentice treachery, especially with the Spirit Hunt Festival approaching. If word got out? She might as well faint on the spot. No, this needed handling¡ªnow.


    ¡°Stand aside,¡± she barked, slamming the door in the servant¡¯s face before emerging moments later, dressed in her usual blue robes. They were still somewhat regal, if one ignored the telltale red stain of yesterday¡¯s alchemical overenthusiasm. She hadn¡¯t the time to tidy her feathers, let alone fix her wild hair, but she could hope her presence at least hinted at authority.


    Good enough.


    Her boots clapped a thunderous rhythm on the marble floor as she stormed outside. The servant trailing her let out a breath of what could only be described as a relieved sigh¡ªundoubtedly grateful that Varkaigrad¡¯s most renowned chief alchemist had found someone else to bear the brunt of her wrath today.


    Moments later, Vasilisa descended the spiraling stone staircase leading to her labyrinthine, multi-tiered workshop. The cold nipped at her joints with gleeful malice, the snowstorm outside mocking her with every gust. It made her miss the warmth of her chambers, which in turn worsened her already sour mood, dragging an irritable curse past her lips. By the time she reached the third-floor main laboratory, her simmering temper had reached a rolling boil. Another icy draft greeted her as she entered, biting harder than an unpaid apprentice.


    Oh, someone was definitely getting their head bashed in today.


    A small crowd had formed near one of the junior workstations, drawing her sharp, narrowed gaze. Two guards stood there, mumbling to one another instead of, oh, she didn¡¯t know, guarding. She mentally added them to her ever-growing ¡°bash and fire¡± list. But the main attraction was unmistakable: a pale, ghostly figure hunched over a distillation apparatus at the heart of the commotion.


    It was a young Drakarri. Jade, yes, she remembered now¡ªa wisp of a girl with phantom-white hair, bright crimson eyes, and all the telltale marks of the Bloodtide Sect. Jade¡¯s slender hands moved with unnerving steadiness, adjusting the apparatus even as it hissed and sputtered in a way that should¡¯ve sent anyone sane bolting for cover. Yet, there was a confidence in her movements that made the chaos seem almost intentional. Almost.


    ¡°What in the name of every cursed ancestor is going on here?!¡± Vasilisa bellowed.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Mrs. Petrov, the ever-flustered lab assistant, spun around, startled like a mouse caught nibbling cheese. ¡°Master Vasilisa! Wh-what are you doing here?!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here to deal with this insubordinate apprentice personally¡ªthen feed her to the damn Clawtails!¡± she snapped, jabbing an accusatory finger at Jade. The girl, annoyingly unruffled, didn¡¯t even glance up from her apparatus.


    Mrs. Petrov waved her hands in frantic denial. ¡°Rogue apprentice? No, no! Jade¡¯s working! I told her to wait until morning, but she insisted it couldn¡¯t wait. The reaction sparked a bit fiercely, spooked the guards, and they jumped to conclusions. Came to get me when they realized it wasn¡¯t a thief. I tried to tell her to stop, but she said she¡¯d only listen to you. I sent Vani for your word, not¡ª¡± she gestured helplessly at Vasilisa¡¯s disheveled state, ¡°¡ªnot for you to come here looking like a ghoul! Nearly gave me a heart attack!¡±


    Vasilisa froze, her temper bristling. She hadn¡¯t even needed to drag herself out of bed for this circus? She rounded on the servant who¡¯d summoned her, their sudden pallor confirming they understood how thoroughly fired they were. Fired. Flayed. Exiled to shovel snow for Clawtails.


    But first things first. Vasilisa¡¯s sharp gaze snapped back to Jade. ¡°And you, girl,¡± she barked, ¡°what in all the frozen hells do you think you¡¯re doing, stirring up this gods-damned circus?¡±


    Beneath her recently preened feathers¡ªstill holding an air of smug vanity¡ªand slitted green eyes, the master unleashed a glare that could strip paint from walls. Vaeriths were famous for those laser-beam stares, and Vasilisa was no exception, weaponizing hers.


    Jade, still cool, casually turned another dial on the apparatus before her. It hissed softly once again. ¡°Master Vasilisa, I¡¯m completing the refinement process for the quintessence extract you requested. The original method didn¡¯t yield sufficient purity, so I recalibrated the ratios and extended the distillation time.¡±


    Vasilisa¡¯s eyes widened¡ªjust a flicker¡ªbefore narrowing again into suspicious slits. ¡°You¡¯re telling me you¡¯ve been tampering with my recipe? The one I gave you earlier ¡­today?¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t tampering. I was optimizing,¡± Jade replied, finally meeting her master¡¯s glare with her own piercing red eyes, fiery enough to thaw the chill in the room. ¡°The mixture is stable, and I stayed within the safety parameters outlined in your lecture.¡±


    Vasilisa strode forward, her presence scattering onlookers like startled birds. She inspected Jade¡¯s workstation with the scrutiny of someone convinced disaster was imminent. The apparatus, however, betrayed no chaos¡ªpristine, orderly, and gleaming with care. Each component was in its rightful place, each transmutation script drawn with such precision it almost begged applause. The flask at the heart of the operation shimmered faintly silver¡ªa telltale sign of a near-perfect extract.


    Her frown deepened. ¡°Your reagent ratios are off,¡± she muttered. ¡°The solution will precipitate impurities as it cools.¡±


    Jade nodded. ¡°I thought so too, which is why I accounted for it.¡± She adjusted another component, drawing a sharp breath from Vasilisa.


    ¡°What are you doing now, girl?¡±


    ¡°Introducing a secondary filtration step with a controlled cooling gradient.¡±


    Vasilisa blinked. ¡°A what now?¡±


    Jade didn¡¯t bother explaining further. Instead, she carefully poured the shimmering solution through a fine mesh filter layered with activated charcoal. As the liquid emerged, crystal-clear and faintly luminescent, even Vasilisa¡¯s hawk-like gaze softened¡ªjust a fraction.


    Vasilisa¡¯s lips twitched, trapped between a frown and the ghost of a grudging smirk. ¡°Adequate,¡± she finally muttered.


    Mrs. Petrov, who had been watching from the sidelines, threw up her hands in disbelief. ¡°Adequate? The girl¡¯s been slaving away all night, and you call that ¡®adequate¡¯? Admit it, Vasilisa¡ªsometimes you could manage a better compliment than ¡®adequate.¡¯¡±


    Ignoring the interruption, Vasilisa turned back to Jade. ¡°Why, pray tell, didn¡¯t you wait until morning like a sane person?¡±


    Jade shrugged nonchalantly. ¡°Why would I? I¡¯ve always loved working at night. It¡¯s quieter, easier to focus. Plus, didn¡¯t you say in class today that the sooner I master maintaining the apparatus and perfect this extract, the sooner I could tackle something more¡­ interesting?¡±


    The nerve of this girl! Vasilisa¡¯s lips pressed into a tight line, the scolding bubbling just under her tongue. Yet, instead of unleashing it, she frowned. These tasks were intentionally crafted to be a nightmare¡ªdesigned to scare off any apprentice lacking the spine or smarts to endure. Alchemy wasn¡¯t for the faint of heart, and that was a hill she¡¯d gladly die on. Most of her juniors didn¡¯t even make it past their first experiment without crumbling like poorly made bread.


    But this one? Tackling Mana Ink¡¯s core solution? It was supposed to take months to figure out! Vasilisa had deliberately left gaps in the theory¡ªjust enough to frustrate and force them to think for themselves. And this girl had patched them all up in one night.


    Granted, it wasn¡¯t flawless. There were inefficiencies in her method¡ªsteps that could be streamlined, materials that could be spared¡ªbut the result was unmistakably pure. It was¡­ unthinkable.


    Vasilisa¡¯s sharp eyes roved over the concoction one more time before her thoughts strayed, unbidden, to her younger self: huddled over bubbling cauldrons in the dead of night, carving out a reputation in the cutthroat alchemical circles of Vraal¡¯kor. Her brand, now a household name among the sects, had been built on sweat, sleepless nights, and sheer bloody-mindedness.


    ¡°I just enjoy the challenge,¡± Jade said breezily, already reaching for a fresh batch of ingredients.


    Vasilisa grunted with reluctant approval. ¡°Challenging¡­ yes¡­ an admirable quality.¡±


    She turned to the guards. ¡°From now on, Jade will inform you before starting any late-night experiments. If she forgets, you¡¯re to drag her back to her dormitory¡ªby her ears if necessary.¡±


    The guards snapped to attention, though one looked visibly relieved at having a new plan to follow after their earlier blunder.


    As Vasilisa prepared to leave, she cast a final glance toward Mrs. Petrov. ¡°Make sure this girl gets proper rest at least three nights a week. And fire that useless servant, Vani, for dragging me out here over nothing.¡±


    Mrs. Petrov smirked. ¡°Of course, Master Vasilisa.¡±


    The master alchemist made her way back to her chambers, muttering under her breath.


    ¡°A challenge,¡± she repeated, a rare chuckle escaping her lips. Feathers atop her head quivered with mirth. ¡°A fucking challenge.¡± Her mood hadn¡¯t been this light in months.

 Prelude 2.2

    "I still don¡¯t believe it."


    "Believe what?"


    "That you weren¡¯t on a crafter pathway."


    Jade, the young white-haired drakarri, didn¡¯t even glance up from the intricate transmutation script she was weaving. "Your disbelief changes nothing. I¡¯ve made this abundantly clear."


    She paused, raising her hand to coalesce shadowy tendrils of dark mana that twisted and coiled like smoke. "Check the guild records if you¡¯re so curious. I¡¯ve always been a dark pathwalker."


    Viera, her fellow apprentice¡ªand, unfortunately for her pride, the elder by a year¡ªleaned over Jade¡¯s table, her frustration palpable. She let out a particularly colorful curse, shaking her head. Envy simmered just beneath her scowl. After all, her primary path was that of a crafter, and yet...


    "Then how, by the ancestors¡¯ scaly elbows, are you this good at it?" Viera hissed. She jabbed a finger at the apparatus on the desk. "And while we¡¯re at it, how in all seven planes did you convince her to let you set that thing up in your dorm room?"


    Jade frowned faintly, not breaking her flow. "I submitted an application. It was approved."


    "An application," Viera repeated, as if testing the words for poison. "Sure, why didn¡¯t I think of that? Just submit an application! As if that explains anything."


    "It¡¯s a valid strategy," Jade replied flatly. "Maybe you should try it."


    Viera threw her hands up in exasperation. "Oh, sure. And get booted from this place for my trouble. No thanks. Whatever you did to her¡­" She trailed off, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, "I swear, the grumpy old hag¡ª" she glanced around theatrically, "¡ªactually bounces when she walks past you working. With a smile. I swear on the ancestors, I saw it."


    Jade¡¯s silver eyebrows quirked ever so slightly, but her focus remained unbroken, her fingers moving with precise grace as she guided fine threads of mana into the delicate script. Ink layered itself on the parchment in shimmering patterns.


    "I don¡¯t know," she murmured absently. "But I¡¯m just grateful we¡¯ve moved past tonic distillations and basic reagents. Free rein for our own projects? That is a gift worth worshipping." She didn¡¯t look up, layering another rune into the swirling design.


    But Viera had reached her limit. She leaned so far over the table that Jade¡¯s personal space practically issued a formal complaint. "What exactly are you working on? I don¡¯t even recognize half the runes you¡¯re using!"


    "Oh, it¡¯s nothing," Jade said.


    Viera straightened with mock indignation. "Nothing?! Excuse me, I am your senior apprentice by a full year! It is my sacred duty to harass¡ª" she coughed delicately, "¡ªmentor you. So unless you want to see me stammering like a fool when Master Vasilisa storms in demanding answers, you¡¯d better spill. If I choke, that¡¯s on you!"


    With a sigh, Jade finally leaned back, gesturing at the table where an intricate etched script surrounded a shard suspended in a volatile liquid. A quick spell activated the apparatus, and the contraption whirred to life, rotating to display the array under the viewing lens.


    "Fine." Jade tapped her finger on the script. "This," she said, "is a regenerative conduit. The goal? Controlled tissue regrowth and fortification¡ªthink reinforced bones, denser muscle fibers, or even enhanced cellular regeneration. Basically, a modular upgrade for bodily resilience."


    Viera tilted her head, a frown creeping across her face. "Isn¡¯t that just another fancy bio-alchemical elixir? We¡¯ve already got those by the barrel."


    "Yes and no," Jade replied without missing a beat. "Elixirs are temporary. They¡¯re surface-level fixes, like slapping a patch on a leaking boat. This, though¡ªthis is modular. Integrated. Adaptive. Once applied, it acts as a framework for advanced body modifications without the need for invasive surgeries."


    Viera¡¯s skepticism gave way to intrigue as her brow arched. "Integrated body mods? That kind of efficiency would require insane amounts of catalyzing agents. How are you managing mana synchronization without the whole thing blowing up?"


    Jade¡¯s lips curled into a faint, feral smile¡ªone that made the hairs on Viera¡¯s neck stand on end. There was something raw, almost predatory, about her that Viera could never quite place. "That," Jade said, her voice low and charged with restrained excitement, "is the challenge. I¡¯m working on something lightweight and scalable¡ªsomething that¡¯s not just for the rich or elite but viable for everyday use."


    "Well said, girl," came a sudden, sharp voice from behind them.


    Both apprentices flinched, their heads whipping around to find Master Vasilisa looming over them, her entrance as silent and unnerving as ever.


    The master alchemist¡¯s piercing gaze swept over the workstation like a hawk eyeing its prey. Her tone was clipped. "Most alchemists these days take the easy road. Need more power? Toss in a cauldron¡¯s worth of rare reagents. Feh. There¡¯s no elegance in that. True mastery lies in refinement¡ªmaking the extraordinary out of the ordinary. Good work, apprentice."


    Jade blinked, caught off guard by the rare praise, while Viera shrank back as Vasilisa leaned closer, her eyes narrowing at the intricate setup.


    "These transmutation arrays¡­" Vasilisa murmured, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Where did you find these?"


    ¡°I¡­ found them in the library,¡± Jade sputtered, clearly unprepared for interrogation. ¡°I was, uh, looking for some stuff.¡±


    Vasilisa raised an eyebrow but nodded, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. ¡°Didn¡¯t know I still kept these. You¡¯ve been studying Fundamentals of Alchemical Anatomy, haven¡¯t you? Old Bensworth¡¯s theories on regenerative matrix configurations.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Jade gave a hesitant nod. ¡°I pulled a few patterns from his work and, uh, modified them. It¡¯s experimental, but it should work.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Vasilisa pressed her lips into a thin line, her gaze scrutinizing the array. ¡°Bensworth¡¯s theories have their flaws¡ªbig ones¡ªbut your approach has potential. Just watch your balancing agents. Too much flux, and your arrays will destabilize the surrounding tissues. The result won¡¯t be pretty.¡±


    Straightening, she fixed Jade with her usual brisk nod. ¡°I won¡¯t coddle you with more advice. Figure it out yourself. That¡¯s how you grow¡ªor fail.¡±


    And with that, she pivoted and strode off, barking at a hapless apprentice who¡¯d just managed to spill a caustic reagent all over their robes.


    Viera whistled low as she watched their master disappear into the haze of the workshop. ¡°Did you see that? She practically purred when she looked at your work.¡±


    ¡°Hardly,¡± Jade muttered, already picking up her mana ink again. ¡°She gave me more warnings than compliments.¡±


    ¡°Warnings are her version of a standing ovation,¡± Viera shot back. ¡°Don¡¯t downplay it. She hates all of us. Well, except you.¡±


    Jade shrugged, her focus already returning to the intricate script before her. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. The hard part¡¯s still ahead¡ªI¡¯ll need to test this. And I only have a limited supply of biocrystals left.¡±


    Viera tapped her chin thoughtfully. ¡°You know, there¡¯s not much scope in what you¡¯re doing.¡±


    Jade glanced up, her brows furrowing slightly. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Everyday applications like this. Sure, modular body mods sound amazing, but no one¡¯s going to throw funding at something that doesn¡¯t promise immediate, flashy results. The big money¡¯s in the high-end market¡ªluxury solutions for extravagant families and sects. That¡¯s what Vasilisa built her name on.¡±


    A faint smile tugged at Jade¡¯s lips. ¡°Maybe. But I¡¯m not in this for the money.¡±


    Viera blinked, tilting her head. ¡°Huh? Then what?¡±


    Jade¡¯s crimson eyes glinted with the same feral gleam. ¡°I¡¯m in this to rewrite the rules.¡±


    ***


    Viera rapped on the door again, her irritation clear. ¡°Jade, this was your idea. What¡¯s taking so long?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think you might be a little early?¡± Jade¡¯s voice called back, muffled and oddly gravelly. ¡°Just gimme two more minutes!¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t early. You probably overslept,¡± Viera retorted. ¡°The least you could do is let me in.¡±


    ¡°Two minutes! Please!¡±


    Viera rolled her eyes, leaning against the doorframe with a sigh. This girl, seriously. ¡°What¡¯s with your voice, though? You sound like you¡¯ve been chewing on gravel.¡±


    ¡°Just¡­ morning stuff!¡±


    With a resigned shake of her head, Viera began pacing outside. She had almost given up when the door finally swung open, revealing a disheveled Jade. Her white hair stuck out in all directions, her robe hastily thrown on and barely tied.


    ¡°You look like you¡¯ve been wrestling a beast in there,¡± Viera remarked, eyeing her critically. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve been dabbling in something you shouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Nothing of the sort,¡± Jade huffed, her tone defensive as she stepped aside. ¡°Come in. My room was just¡­ messy. Couldn¡¯t shame myself by letting you see it that way.¡±


    As Viera entered, her eyebrows shot up. "This is what you call ¡®fixed?¡¯"


    The room was chaos incarnate. Notes were scattered across every available surface, with the far wall covered in pinned diagrams, string connections, and scrawled theories. By the window, an apparatus hissed and belched faint fumes, while the bed hosted an unholy union of crumpled blankets and even more research notes.


    Jade winced under Viera¡¯s incredulous gaze. ¡°It¡¯s better than it was before,¡± she mumbled, hurriedly scooping up papers from the floor to clear a path. ¡°Have a seat.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Viera said, maneuvering carefully toward the least cluttered corner. ¡°Though I think I¡¯d have an easier time sitting in a piccoti¡¯s nest.¡±


    Viera perched gingerly on the edge of a stool that wobbled like it had aspirations of hurling her to the floor. She grabbed the desk for balance, knocking over a teetering stack of scrolls in the process.


    ¡°You know,¡± she said, surveying the organized chaos of the room, ¡°for someone so methodical with runes and alchemy, this place looks like a mana explosion went off. Twice.¡±


    ¡°Thrice,¡± Jade corrected absentmindedly, flipping through a pile of notebooks. ¡°But that was last week.¡±


    Viera froze. ¡°What do you mean last week?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask.¡± Jade waved a hand dismissively, tossing a quill over her shoulder like it offended her. ¡°Anyway, tea? It¡¯s the least I can offer for dragging you here.¡±


    ¡°Tea?¡± Viera echoed, her gaze narrowing on a suspicious vial oozing neon green goo near the windowsill. ¡°You¡¯re offering tea while your room looks like a biohazard containment breach waiting to happen?¡±


    ¡°Hey, my tea setup is immaculate,¡± Jade replied, affronted. ¡°Give me some credit.¡±


    Before Viera could retort, a faint clinking sound emerged from the direction of the adjoining kitchen. She stiffened, staring at Jade. ¡°Did you just¡­ summon tea?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡± Jade said, sinking onto the edge of her bed. ¡°That would be her.¡±


    As if on cue, a small badger waddled into the room, balancing a tray on her back. She wore a crimson bow tie¡ªnaturally¡ªand radiated an air of no-nonsense authority as she deposited the tray on the nearest patch of clear space, which, precariously, was next to the apparatus puffing ominous fumes.


    ¡°Squee!¡± the badger chirped, pointing a stubby paw at the teapot before swiveling her glare to a tin of biscuits.


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± Jade muttered, suddenly looking sheepish. ¡°I forgot to replenish the biscuit stock.¡±


    ¡°Squee!¡± the badger snapped, beady eyes narrowing in disapproval.


    ¡°I promise I¡¯ll restock them this time! And I¡¯ll grab your favorite ones,¡± Jade said quickly, holding her hands up in surrender. She lifted her tea cup, looking faintly apologetic. ¡°Thank you, Belle. As always.¡±


    The badger sniffed haughtily. ¡°Squee!¡±


    ¡°Yes, fish-flavored ones too. Anything else?¡± Jade asked.


    Belle chirped a final time, the sound distinctly smug, before padding back toward the kitchen with all the dignity of a monarch.


    Viera blinked, looking like a spell-struck fish. ¡°You¡­ have a badger? Who serves tea? And chastises you?¡±


    ¡°Familiar,¡± Jade corrected, sipping her tea. ¡°And yes. Belle¡¯s the best. I¡¯d be lost without her.¡±


    ¡°Squee!¡± Belle barked from the other room, an unmistakable note of that¡¯s right in her voice.


    Viera just stared, her mind struggling to reconcile the image of stoic, sharp-tongued Jade with the sight of her sipping tea alongside a bowtie-wearing badger. She knew Jade had a familiar¡ªplenty of people did¡ªbut she¡¯d never imagined it would be a little badger with such¡­ presence.


    Sure, she¡¯d seen her share of bonded familiars, but actually watching someone hold a coherent, almost conversational back-and-forth with one? That was a first.


    Shaking her head, Viera sighed. It wasn¡¯t the strangest thing about Jade, she supposed. After all, this was the same person who¡¯d managed the grand feat of making Master Vasilisa smile. That alone ranked higher on her personal list of world wonders.


    ¡°You never told me you were living with your familiar,¡± Viera said, gesturing toward Belle, who had reappeared and was dutifully wiping the tea tray clean with a tiny cloth.


    Jade shrugged, popping a biscuit into her mouth. ¡°You never asked. Want more tea?¡±


    Viera groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°Ancestors preserve me, you¡¯re the most impossible person I know. And no, I don¡¯t want tea. Let¡¯s talk about the real reason you dragged me here. Why the hell do you want to go to the lower district today? You know that place hasn¡¯t been safe lately.¡±


    Jade¡¯s expression didn¡¯t waver. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Don¡¯t overthink it.¡±


    ¡°Overthink it?¡± Viera hissed, her voice dropping as she leaned in closer. ¡°Yesterday, I heard a rumor about someone turning into an abomination in broad daylight and slaughtering dozens of people down there.¡±


    ¡°Rumors tend to exaggerate,¡± Jade replied smoothly.


    ¡°Even if they are exaggerated, the Wave is still ongoing,¡± Viera shot back. ¡°The lower district are right next to the wall! If any monsters cross over, they¡¯ll hit there first.¡±


    Jade¡¯s lips curled into the faintest of smirks. ¡°I can handle it. Don¡¯t worry. Just lead the way.¡±


    Viera¡¯s mouth opened, then closed as she stared at Jade. Finally, she threw her hands up in exasperation. ¡°Fine! But when something inevitably goes wrong, I¡¯m blaming you!¡±


    ¡°Noted,¡± Jade said, already grabbing her gear. ¡°Now finish your tea. We have work to do.¡±

 Prelude 2.3

    The roar of the wilds beyond the wall was faint but constant, like a distant growl that never stopped. Viera glanced up at the immense stone wall of Varkaigrad, towering sixty meters into the air and as wide as five men lying head to toe. Even with the sun rising, its imposing shadow loomed over this part of the city. It was a bastion against the chaos outside, a lifeline during the monster waves that poured from the dungeons in surges of claws and teeth.


    But for all the chaos just beyond the walls, the city around her carried on as if nothing was wrong. Merchants barked prices, children darted through alleyways, and hawkers shouted over each other to sell their wares. Viera¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced at the crowd. It baffled her how they could be so indifferent. Sure, Vraal¡¯Kor wasn¡¯t the worst hit by the waves¡ªmost monsters seemed drawn to Lithrindel for reasons she didn¡¯t care to guess¡ªbut it didn¡¯t mean they were safe.


    Her attention shifted to Jade, walking just ahead with that maddening air of confidence, her hood pulled low. ¡°You still haven¡¯t told me what exactly we¡¯re doing down here,¡± Viera said, trying to keep her voice low as her eyes darted to the milling crowd.


    ¡°I told you, I need something,¡± Jade said, her tone so casual it made Viera¡¯s teeth itch.


    ¡°You¡¯ll need to be a bit more specific than ¡®something,¡¯¡± Viera snapped, sidestepping a man hauling a cart of sacks leaking something very suspect. ¡°We¡¯re in the slums, Jade. Half the people here can ¡®get you something,¡¯ and the other half will murder you while doing it.¡±


    The lower district was as wild as a drunken bear in a china shop, and just as friendly. Chaos radiated from every corner, which, naturally, someone like Jade would argue was why Viera hated it. Something about her "highborn snobbery." Sure, she¡¯d grown up Fang¡¯s Ascent, one of the upper districts, cushioned by the perks of a lesser sect under the Ledenyk Family. But that didn¡¯t mean she didn¡¯t have brains, damn it. She did have a knack for seeing patterns and logic, which made her disdain for this place feel completely justified, thank you very much.


    ¡°You said yesterday someone turned into an abomination here. Broad daylight. Slaughtered a bunch of people,¡± Jade said, her tone annoyingly nonchalant.


    ¡°Yeah? And?¡±


    ¡°Do you know what they transformed into?¡±


    Viera frowned. ¡°Not really. I didn¡¯t dig too deep. It¡¯s the lower districts¡ªnothing for us to worry about. The Enforcers probably already cleaned it up. I¡¯d bet five coins it was some alchemist¡¯s experiment gone sideways.¡±


    ¡°The one who transformed was a drakarri, like us. It¡¯s not the transformation itself but what they became.¡± Jade said, as she sidestepped a careening cart. ¡°Scales all over. Serpentine mug. Wings. Claws. Ringing any bells?¡±


    Viera¡¯s steps faltered. ¡°You¡¯re saying someone shifted into their beast form? That¡¯s hardly news. Anyone above red core can do that.¡±


    ¡°Except they weren¡¯t red core,¡± Jade said, her voice dropping. ¡°If they were, the death count wouldn¡¯t be just a few dozen.¡±


    That sent a chill prickling down Viera¡¯s spine. Every beastkin knew the deal: reach red core, and you could tap into your bloodline¡¯s power to achieve your beast form. But someone below red core pulling it off? That was uncharted¡ªand dangerous¡ªterritory.


    ¡°I still think it¡¯s a load of crap,¡± Viera said, her skepticism creeping back in. ¡°Maybe it was some other kind of transformation?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°How can you be so damn sure?¡±


    ¡°I have better resources.¡±


    That earned a scoff. Better resources, her scaled ass. Jade was so buried in her alchemy experiments, she probably wouldn¡¯t notice if a mana bomb detonated next to her unless it knocked over her beakers. Wait.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve been sneaking out,¡± Viera accused, eyes narrowing.


    Jade hesitated.


    ¡°YOU¡¯VE BEEN SNEAKING OUT!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t jump to conclusions,¡± Jade said, voice annoyingly calm. ¡°Anyway, you¡¯re here now, so it doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    ¡°Jade, that old hag is going to skin us if she finds out we¡¯re slumming it looking for trouble.¡±


    ¡°Bit late for that, don¡¯t you think? And you agreed to come along, remember? I need backup in case things go south.¡±


    ¡°You tricked me! I thought you were looking for some shady ingredient or other!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s on you,¡± Jade said, smirking. ¡°I told you where we were going. If you leapt to conclusions, that¡¯s your problem. Both plans involved sneaking out; only one of them is apparently bothering you.¡±


    ¡°Because one doesn¡¯t involve chasing down something potentially deadly!¡± Viera threw up her hands, narrowly avoiding smacking a hawker. The hawker hissed something unrecognizable, but the look on his face told her it wasn¡¯t flattering. She muttered an apology under her breath and hurried to catch up with Jade, who was now weaving through the crowd like a damn eel through water.


    ¡°¡®Both plans involved sneaking out,¡¯ she says,¡± Viera muttered, glaring daggers at the back of Jade¡¯s hooded head. ¡°Like that makes this fine. One plan involves gathering ingredients and maybe haggling with some shady apothecary. The other? Oh, just poking a possibly homicidal drakarri with a big stick!¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Jade didn¡¯t look back. Of course, she didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Would you slow down?¡± Viera hissed, dodging a pair of kids chasing a ball down the street. The ball hit a pile of muck, splashing it across her boots. Lovely. Just lovely. She shook her foot, grimacing, and hurried on.


    ¡°Why are you even so calm about this?¡± she demanded, finally catching up and grabbing Jade¡¯s arm. ¡°We¡¯re talking about someone who went full beast-form without hitting red core. You don¡¯t find that a bit terrifying?¡±


    Jade turned her head just enough for Viera to catch the faintest glimpse of a smirk under her hood. ¡°Terrifying? Sure. But also fascinating. Don¡¯t you want to know how it¡¯s possible?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Viera snapped. ¡°I want to not die in some piss-stained alley because you got curious, Jade. Curiosity kills more than cats, you know.¡±


    ¡°And satisfaction brings them back,¡± Jade quipped, pulling her arm free and continuing forward, unbothered as ever.


    Viera groaned, following reluctantly. ¡°Seriously, Jade, what¡¯s your angle here? You¡¯re not the ¡®run toward the chaos¡¯ type. Usually, you¡¯d be holed up with your tinctures and experiments. What¡¯s changed?¡±


    Jade paused, just briefly. ¡°Information,¡± she said simply, and the word hung there like a challenge.


    ¡°What information?¡± Viera pressed, falling into step beside her now.


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you yet.¡±


    ¡°Oh, of course, you can¡¯t tell me yet,¡± Viera said. ¡°Ancestors forbid you give me a straight answer. How do you even expect me to help if you¡¯re keeping me in the dark?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re helping by being here,¡± Jade said with infuriating calm.


    ¡°That¡¯s not how this works!¡± Viera hissed. She stepped in front of Jade, forcing her to stop. ¡°You dragged me into this, so spill. What exactly are we dealing with here?¡±


    Jade sighed, glancing around as if to make sure no one was listening. ¡°Fine,¡± she said finally. ¡°I have a lead that this... transformation wasn¡¯t a one-off accident. There¡¯s a pattern, Viera. And if I¡¯m right, this could be bigger than just one feral drakarri.¡±


    Viera¡¯s stomach sank. ¡°A pattern? As in, this has happened before?¡±


    ¡°Or it¡¯s about to happen again,¡± Jade said, stepping around her. ¡°Which is why we need to hurry.¡±


    Viera followed, her heart pounding now. ¡°So, what? You think there¡¯s some kind of experiment going on down here? Or a curse? Or what?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re here to find out,¡± Jade said.


    Viera wanted to throttle her. Instead, she gritted her teeth and kept walking, her boots squelching in something she didn¡¯t want to think about. ¡°If this gets us killed, I¡¯m haunting you,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°Fair,¡± Jade said with a shrug.


    ¡°And another thing,¡± Viera said, her voice rising despite herself, ¡°if you¡¯re sneaking out for leads like this, what else aren¡¯t you telling me? Do you have a death wish I should know about? Is this some kind of secret alchemist vigilante thing?¡±


    Jade gave her a sidelong glance. ¡°You¡¯ve got quite the imagination, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t dodge the question,¡± Viera snapped. ¡°Jade, I swear, if you¡¯ve been up to something reckless¡ª¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t. And we already have a lead.¡± Jade halted abruptly.


    Before them stretched a square, as riotous and unruly as any corner of the city, but Jade wasn¡¯t gesturing to the chaos. She was pointing at someone¡ªa Voruun, to be exact. Green-skinned, built like a fortress, with tusks jutting from his lower jaw like a pair of knives. He was hard to miss, though Viera¡¯s eyes caught something more telling: a tattoo curling up the back of his neck.


    The gangs. Of course. This district was practically their playground. Viera knew tattoos like his weren¡¯t just for show; they were emblems, markers of allegiance. And judging by the stylized fang inked in black, she could guess which one.


    ¡°Why him?¡± she asked, though she already had a sinking feeling.


    ¡°Just follow.¡±


    The Voruun didn¡¯t just stand out; he dominated the space. Even in the chaos, the crowd parted subtly around him, their movements deliberate, wary. His tusks gleamed as he barked orders at a wiry, hooded figure whose hunched posture all but screamed flight risk.


    ¡°Jade,¡± Viera hissed, grabbing her cloak before she could take another step. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. That¡¯s Fang Circle. Do you even know what they do to people who get in their way?¡±


    Jade shrugged off her grip. ¡°Relax. We¡¯re not getting in their way. We¡¯re just¡­ observing.¡±


    ¡°Observing?¡± Viera¡¯s voice dripped with sarcasm. ¡°Oh, right. Because standing a few meters from a gang enforcer and staring is exactly how you go unnoticed.¡±


    Jade shot her one of those looks. The kind that said, Trust me, I¡¯ve got this. Except Viera knew Jade never ¡°had this.¡± Not really.


    ¡°Just follow,¡± Jade repeated, already slipping into the crowd.


    Viera bit back a groan, muttering under her breath as she trailed behind. ¡°This is the worst idea I¡¯ve ever agreed to.¡± Fifth time this week.


    The square opened up as they moved closer, the bustle thinning enough for Viera to get a clearer view. The Voruun¡¯s deep, guttural voice was unmistakable as he argued with the hooded figure. The smaller man shifted uneasily, fidgeting with a tension that practically radiated ready to run.


    ¡°What exactly are we looking for?¡± Viera whispered.


    Jade didn¡¯t answer. Her sharp gaze darted around the square like she was piecing together an invisible puzzle. This wasn¡¯t her first trip to this district; of that, Viera was certain. Somehow, Jade had been slipping out unnoticed¡ªand managing it regularly. That was no small feat, especially for someone of their rank.


    Viera clenched the amulet in her hand. She was a crafter, not a fighter. Yellow core or not, she was firmly in the ¡°average¡± category for Varkaigrad.


    Jade¡¯s gaze flicked toward a building, her eyes narrowing as if she¡¯d just spotted a missing piece of the puzzle. ¡°A signal,¡± she said, her tone clipped.


    ¡°A signal for what?¡± Viera pressed.


    Jade didn¡¯t answer. Instead, she grabbed Viera¡¯s wrist and tugged her toward a nearby alley, weaving through the crowd with practiced precision. Her focus was unshakable, her eyes glued to the ground as they moved, as if avoiding even the faintest misstep.


    Viera followed, her pulse quickening, her mind racing. They were too close to the Voruun now¡ªclose enough to hear his voice clearly now.


    ¡°¡­not my problem if the shipment¡¯s late,¡± he growled. ¡°Tell them to wait. They know the risks.¡±


    ¡°But the boss said¡ª¡± the wiry man began, only to be silenced by a guttural snarl.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what the boss said. You tell them we¡¯re handling it. End of discussion.¡±


    Viera strained to catch the exchange, but Jade held up a hand, signaling her to stay put. The conversation dragged on in tense bursts, the wiry man visibly shrinking under the Voruun¡¯s glare. Eventually, he nodded, darting into the crowd like a frightened hare.


    The Voruun lingered, his eyes scanning the square before turning and striding toward an alley on the far side.


    ¡°Perfect,¡± Jade murmured.


    ¡°Perfect?¡± Viera repeated, confused.


    Then the scream came¡ªa piercing, blood-curdling cry that silenced the square for the briefest of moments before chaos erupted.


    Viera barely had time to process it before she saw it.


    The Voruun was skewered where he stood, a massive, bone-white claw punching clean through his chest. Blood sprayed in violent arcs as the claw retracted, and a serpentine maw, jagged and grotesque, lunged forward to seize him. The creature was a nightmare made flesh, its scaled body coiling and snapping as its claws pinned the Voruun like a child¡¯s toy.


    A guttural roar echoed through the square as the beast tore into its prey with a macabre sort of glee, ripping flesh and muscle from bone in a grisly display.


    Viera¡¯s breath hitched as pandemonium swept over the square. The crowd surged like a living tide, people shoving and scrambling to escape the carnage. Her first instinct was to reach for Jade, but her outstretched hand met only air.


    ¡°Jade!¡± she shouted. She spun around, her heart hammering as she scanned the throng, but¡­ Jade was gone.

 Chapter 92: New City, New Prey

    Ah, Varkaigrad¡ªa sprawling behemoth of a city that I¡¯d scarcely imagined, let alone seen in my backwater days. From the moment I arrived, one thing tickled my curiosity like a mischievous imp. My teacher, with all her self-important wisdom, had one piece of advice she delivered with the gravity of a saint warning a sinner: steer clear of the Lower District. Apparently, it was the "bad part of town," a phrase as quaint as it was ominous. Lawlessness ran rife there, or so she said, though her warnings sounded more like the fretting of a hen than gospel truth.


    Naturally, this decree slotted itself into the unofficial rulebook of my existence: I, the hapless apprentice with the charm of a flailing jellyfish, wasn¡¯t to set so much as a toe near the Lower District. Bit controlling, really, but fair enough, given the reputation I was meant to uphold¡ªor fabricate, depending on who you asked.


    Still, it wasn¡¯t Randall or even Alcoa, those sleepy hamlets of my past, that taught me just how titanic Varkaigrad truly was. This was no ordinary city; this was the city. The mighty heart of Vraal¡¯kor, a leviathan of culture, commerce, and chaos. And as with any creature of such magnitude, it bristled with factions and rivalries¡ªthreads in an umm, rather unseen tapestry of power and ambition.


    The Middle District housed the Official Enforcers, those who fancied themselves paragons of law and order, though their shine didn¡¯t quite extend to the lower depths. And the Lower District? A nest of rogues, rebels, and so-called heroes dabbling in ventures more dubious than righteous. Villains, they were called by polite society, though such labels felt... reductive. The truth was knottier than any tidy distinction of good and evil. I often caught myself pondering the invisible strings that bound it all, pulling people into roles like marionettes on a stage. But such philosophical musings were for another day.


    Today, however, the quarry before me demanded my full attention. The crowd erupted into a cacophony of screams and chaos, scattering from the square like leaves in a storm. But then again, what could one do when faced with the question of existence in its most visceral form¡ªa massive monster materialising from nowhere and skewering someone right before your eyes?


    My gaze settled on the creature that had seized everyone''s attention, the so-called monster. A bit of an exaggeration, really, considering I knew full well it was a Drakarri in their beast form. And oh, their beast form¡ªit was clear now why they were whispered to have dragon blood running through their veins. Inferior. The word crept into my mind, uninvited and sharp.


    Was it my own draconic heritage that made me see this mimicry of the draconic as inherently lacking? Or perhaps it was the stench¡ªa nauseating reek of rot that clawed at my senses. The very same scent that had haunted my nightmares ever since that encounter with the abomination. I couldn¡¯t say. Likely a bit of both. But the real draw, the source of my morbid fascination, was undoubtedly the latter.


    My eyes flitted momentarily to Viera. She was twisting back, scanning the chaos for me. She wouldn¡¯t find me¡ªnot yet. Her role in this debacle was done. All I¡¯d wanted was for her to witness this creature with her own eyes, and now that she had, I exhaled a long, quiet sigh of relief. She, like the others, turned tail and ran. Good.


    With a subtle shift, I released the shroud of my technique, letting myself emerge from the cloak of distortion. My gaze locked on the beast below as I stood on the second-floor ledge of a crumbling building, a silent observer. It was, if anything, a humanoid amalgamation of dragon-like traits. Scales blanketed its muscular frame. A massive tail lashed behind it, wings unfurled in ominous grandeur, and a sinuous neck stretched forward, ending in a serrated, serpentine maw. It was almost as though someone had taken all the defining features of a dragon and awkwardly stapled them onto a human frame.


    In its clawed grasp was a tusked Voruun, half-shredded and still writhing. The Drakarri seemed halfway through dismantling its victim with brutal efficiency. But the Voruuns were hardly pushovers. No, these green-skinned brutes were nothing if not resilient¡ªand well-armed.


    The square steadily filled with their ilk, each bearing the same tattoo¡ªa mark of allegiance to their band of ruffians. One particularly eager specimen surged forward, mana crackling as it coursed through his core. The ground cracked beneath his feet, and with a force akin to a runaway boulder, he launched himself headlong at the beast. The impact sent it hurtling through the air, smashing into abandoned stalls with a satisfying crunch.


    They retrieved their half-mangled comrade, pouring cheap healing potions down his gullet. I was genuinely surprised he wasn¡¯t already a corpse. But then again, Voruuns were renowned for their remarkable resilience, bouncing back from the brink with all the tenacity of a bad penny. More of them gathered, surrounding the creature. What started as a mismatched skirmish quickly turned into a proper beatdown. Wings ripped. Tail ensnared. Scales shattered under relentless, bone-crunching blows. A few spells were tossed about, but it was clear this lot thrived on raw, unbridled brute force.


    Ah, but that was merely the overture. The real performance began when the Drakarri stepped out of the shadows. Their forms twisted grotesquely as they entered their beastly states¡ªscales rippling like liquid armour, muscles bulging obscenely. Bones cracked and flesh groaned as their shapes warped into something altogether monstrous. Within moments, the square was teeming with these hulking horrors.


    The air turned thick with the stench of rot¡ªa smell so disturbingly familiar it made my teeth itch. Something was definitely off with these Drakarri. Their transformations weren¡¯t natural, not for anyone operating below red-core level. It had to be connected to that thing Gwen had mentioned, a trail I¡¯d been sniffing out for almost a month now. My first real lead in ages, and I wasn¡¯t about to botch it. So, I watched. Eyes sharp, nerves taut. The leader would show himself eventually. He had to.


    One Drakarri, his scales a deep bronze, let loose a bellow that shook the square as he charged. Another, lean and wiry, with jagged crimson spines trailing down his back, darted in with blistering speed. His claws slashed through a Voruun¡¯s hastily-raised shield like it was parchment. The Voruuns had the numbers, but the Drakarri boasted sheer power.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Still, the Voruuns didn¡¯t crumble. They regrouped, falling into well-practised formations. Three of them tackled a single Drakarri at a time, dodging claws and retaliating with mana-infused punches and kicks. One particularly massive Voruun hurled himself into a newly-shifted Drakarri, grappling it in a bear-like embrace before slamming its skull into the cobblestones repeatedly, each blow leaving a crater. Another lobbed a mana-charged metal club with deadly precision, catching a beast square in the chest and sending it sprawling.


    The square was pure chaos¡ªa cacophony of snarls, shouts, and the sickening crunch of flesh and bone. Claws carved through sinew, tails lashed with bone-shattering force, and fists struck with the weight of a collapsing building. The noise was deafening. An orchestra of carnage.


    I had half a mind to tip the scales in the Voruuns¡¯ favour with a well-placed spell or two, but I held back. This wasn¡¯t my fight¡ªat least, not yet. Instead, I watched the brutal ballet unfold, every moment a snapshot of raw, visceral mayhem. A Voruun flying through the air. A Drakarri¡¯s scales bursting under a hammer-like blow. Flashes of mana streaking through the murk like lightning in a storm.


    Even then, something about the whole affair felt¡­ diminished. The scene before me wasn¡¯t a desperate fight for survival, not really. It reeked of desperation, yes, but it lacked the visceral weight of true survival. The primal terror. The life-or-death urgency that sharpens every movement. Maybe I¡¯d been ruined by battling real monsters, the kind that didn¡¯t just end you but erased you. Watching these guys thrash about felt oddly¡­ hollow. The brutality was there, but the stakes? They felt cheap.


    Perhaps that was the crux of it. After seeing the abyss blink back at me one too many times, anything less than total annihilation just seemed a bit... quaint. I shook my head sharply. Focus, Jade. You¡¯re not here for entertainment!


    It was hard to tell who had the upper hand. For every Drakarri that fell, another rose to take its place. They lacked numbers, true, but their ferocity more than matched the Voruuns¡¯ stubborn resilience. Mildly amusing. Could¡¯ve used a bit more blood. And maybe some snacks.


    And then, finally, he showed up. I¡¯d pieced together his existence from scraps of information gleaned through my, shall we say, frugal investigations. He was a big fellow, but not so massive as to send people scattering at the sight of him. No, his menace lay elsewhere. His horns, curled and glinting silver, were striking against the bronze hues of the others. His features were hidden behind an ornate metal mask, intricate but practical, while his bare torso displayed sprawling tattoos that wound from neck to waist. Dragons, each one painstakingly accurate, though a touch more sinuous than natural.


    They called him Iron. His real name? Eh, no clue. What I did know was that this guy had gone toe-to-toe with entire teams of Enforcers and somehow avoided both prison and death. His presence here only underscored his reputation. The stench of rot was strongest around him, almost suffocating. My instincts screamed that he was the key to it all.


    I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. Runes began to form at my fingertips, shadowy lines crackling with dark mana. Tendrils erupted from beneath my cloak, sleek and serpentine, holding a collection of alchemical concoctions ready for use.


    In my drakarri form, I was woefully limited. A situation I was desperate to rectify¡ªalchemy was my best bet for now, though I was painfully aware I needed more time. Time I didn¡¯t have. Not today. Not here.


    I couldn¡¯t risk anyone catching a glimpse of my true dragon form here, so I¡¯d be fighting at a distinct disadvantage. But don¡¯t mistake that for weakness. Dark mana affinity gave me an embarrassment of options, and today, I¡¯d be using them against a real opponent for the first time.


    As for what I knew about my enemy¡­ well, I¡¯d scrounged up some intel by eavesdropping and watching a few of his brawls. No guarantees, though. He was clearly a high yellow core¡ªpractically on the verge of crossing into red. I¡¯d also gathered that he followed a metal pathway of some kind, one that seemed to involve molding his body in some way.


    But with him? It was all guesswork. For all I knew, he could¡¯ve been feeding people misinformation about his powers, keeping a secret weapon up his sleeve for a rainy day¡ªor maybe he had some subtle ability that didn¡¯t show up on the surface at all.


    I didn¡¯t know yet, but I would soon enough.


    So, I kept my stealth active, and my fingers began to twist into sharp talons, scaling the wall like some sort of deranged spider. With quick, precise jumps, I circled around to the rear of the building I¡¯d been lurking beside. Out of sight.


    And then, Air Sense kicked in, feeding me every minute detail. The rhythm of his breath was like a beacon, pulling my attention to him. Dark mana runes twisted and rippled into place, and I began shaping them. A simple animation spell, designed to summon a dark mana golem.


    It wasn¡¯t much, in terms of power. Dark mana might have vast potential, but as a flail¡ªa blunt instrument¡ªit didn¡¯t matter how concentrated it was. A golem, no matter how massive, would go down fairly easily. Not to mention, creating a swarm of smaller golems was absurd. Why on earth would I want to throw teddy bears at my enemies?


    And, of course, there was the limitation: you could only control so many at once. Imagine a swarm of dark mana insects trying to hold something¡ªridiculous. If only there were a way to increase cognitive processing, to allow for greater control and more golems. Oh, wait.


    A grin crept across my face as the threads of mana tightened. Hundreds of them. Five hundred. A thousand. Small, inconspicuous, every single one of them accounted for in my mind. The sheer volume of information would have driven anyone else mad, but not me. Those points in intelligence? Worth every bloody one of them. I was reaching a level of cognitive processing that could only be called inhuman.


    And as the swarm raged beneath my cloak, I considered what else it might hold. Naturally, the plethora of poisons I¡¯d brewed would be at the ready. I¡¯d learned the hard way not to underestimate my opponents. If civilization was kind enough to offer a dragon its tools, who was I to refuse?

 Chapter 93: Reality

    It wasn¡¯t supposed to play out like this. And by this, I meant my current predicament. I had a lead¡ªa solid one¡ªon the breadcrumbs of my past. A princess from a sect in Vraal¡¯Kor. Easy pickings, right? Well, so much for ¡°simple.¡± Turns out she wasn¡¯t just some pampered noble lounging on satin pillows. No, she belonged to the highest rung of the ruling ladder¡ªone of the five families that ran this land. And not just any family, oh no, but the most powerful one of them all. Their palace? Perched like a crown jewel in the topmost district of Varkaigrad. A district so elite that peasants wouldn¡¯t dare to glance up at it, let alone dream of setting foot inside.


    Even Gwen, resourceful and powerful as she was, couldn¡¯t magic up a direct connection to that echelon. But she did toss me a lifeline: a well-known alchemist whose name carried the kind of weight that made merchants bow and nobles smile just a little wider. Of course, there was another reason for seeking them out¡ªmy transformation. That lovely little ¡°gift¡± came wrapped in its own set of quirks. Or, more accurately, limitations. And... well, alchemy had a knack for turning problems into possibilities. That¡¯s how I found myself here, playing the part of an eager young Drakkari from the Bloodtide Sect, armed with Gwen-forged papers that screamed legitimacy¡ªat least on the surface. I wasn¡¯t exactly a pro at faking identities, so her handiwork was my golden ticket.


    But sitting tight? Not my style. Every night, I slipped out, prowling the streets, listening, learning, following every whisper until one stench hit me like a brick to the face.


    Rot. The kind that lingered, gnawed, and clawed its way into your nostrils. The same vile essence I¡¯d encountered in that dungeon when the Elven heir hit lowgold. This time, it was oozing off a gang¡ªlocals, no less. They were shifting unnaturally. Beast forms before hitting red core.


    And here I was now. No time to chew on the cud of past regrets, my eyes fixed on the chaos unfolding below.


    The tide of battle turned the moment Iron strode onto the scene. Unlike his gang of merry shapeshifters, he skipped the dramatic morphing and went straight to business. His hand expanded in an instant, conjuring a rune-etched metal sword that plunged unceremoniously through the nearest Voruun¡¯s skull. The poor sod didn¡¯t even have time for a final thought before his head erupted in a grisly confetti of blood and gore¡ªIron, ever the generous sort, added a gratuitous blast for good measure.


    The effect was immediate. The Voruuns stiffened, their bravado faltering, though the biggest brutes among them lumbered forward to keep up appearances. Not that I planned to let them enjoy the limelight for long. I had a plan¡ªa thoroughly underhanded one at that¡ªbut I wasn¡¯t about to jump headfirst into a scrap with Iron. The man wasn¡¯t the sort you took on without proper preparation, and I hadn¡¯t quite mustered the courage (or stupidity) to fully face him head-on. Instead, I relied on my secret weapon, hidden snugly beneath my cloak: an army of tiny dark mana golems.


    These little horrors weren¡¯t much to look at, just vague blobs of shadow with delicate wings that seemed more decorative than functional. But what they lacked in finesse, they made up for in efficiency. Summoning them was a doddle; whipping up a couple of dozen barely cost me a sliver of mana. Hundreds? A trivial matter. Thousands? Well, that called for a quick mana potion to stave off the inevitable migraine. As I popped one open, the faint buzz of information from my golems hummed in the back of my mind. Thankfully, I didn¡¯t have to micromanage them¡ªjust issue clear orders and let them do the rest. Trying to process the flood of sensory input from thousands of tiny spies? No, thank you. I wasn¡¯t mad. Not yet, anyway.


    With the command ¡°fill,¡± the golems sprang into action, swarming into the hidden tubes within my cloak. Each tiny body absorbed a very special, utterly vile concoction I¡¯d cooked up in my spare time. Lethal? Oh, no. That would be too easy. These were designed to make their victims wish they were dead¡ªa delightful blend of agony and incapacitation. Iron needed to stay alive, after all, though his comfort was decidedly optional.


    Time was short. This delightful little brawl had no doubt drawn the attention of the Enforcers, and those killjoys would be here soon enough. Best not let things escalate any further. I shut my eyes and focused, Air Sense painting a vivid picture of the battlefield. My cloak disgorged its dark tide, a swarm of malevolent little bodies spilling into the fray. Ignoring the cacophony of new sensations, I issued one simple command: ATTACK.


    The swarm surged forward, blackening the snow-dusted gloom like a plague. I hadn¡¯t bothered with nuanced commands¡ªno sparing green-skinned Voruuns or prioritizing specific targets. Why complicate matters? They were all up to no good, and mercy wasn¡¯t exactly on today¡¯s menu. Predictably, the first reaction from everyone was to lob fireballs, lightning bolts, and whatever other magic they had handy, trying desperately to halt the tide.


    Some golems fell, their connections snapping like threads. But there were more¡ªso many more. They poured into every available orifice: nostrils, mouths, ears, even eyes. And then, one by one¡ªBOOM! Each tiny vessel exploded, releasing its payload of torment onto the hapless targets.


    The screams began almost immediately. Music to my ears. The concoction was a work of art¡ªtemporarily rewiring bodily functions wherever it landed. Swelling tissues, paralytic shocks, the works. And the pain! Oh, it was exquisite. Purely in the academic sense, of course. I¡¯d tested it on myself once, out of sheer intellectual curiosity (and definitely not sadism, heavens no). My macro-trophic sac was always a bit sluggish in my drakarri form, thus giving me just enough time to experience its ¡°charms¡± before neutralizing it. Painful? Very. Effective? Absolutely.


    Unless these poor sods had some sort of miracle cure tucked away, they were as good as subdued. The poison was doing its job admirably. But at the centre of the chaos, there stood Iron, defiant as ever. Flames licked hungrily around him, his entire form hardening like molten metal cooling into an indomitable shell. With grandiose flourishes, he unleashed torrents of fire, scorching and reducing my swarm to ash. I had to stifle a chuckle. Was that his masterstroke? A paltry attempt to counter a spell I¡¯d barely mastered myself? Honestly, he was wasting more of his own gang than my summons. I held most of the swarm back, cloaked in shadow, scattered among his allies. Let him torch his own drakarri men¡ªtwo birds, one inferno.


    Just as he turned his back, I gave the command for my hidden swarm to engage. The venom was specifically engineered to slip through metal, naturally. A few of them detonated directly on him, and while he didn¡¯t keel over immediately, the results were encouraging. Iron was my main quarry, but a new complication arose: the leader of the Voruuns.


    He was healing. Slowly, yes, but healing nonetheless. I watched as swelling lumps on his body deflated and his skin began to knit itself back together. Intriguing. Shrugging, I sent a few more golems his way. Why not test his limits? His agonized screams as each explosion peppered him made for a delightful sideshow.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    From my perch, the carnage was a spectacle. Gang members flailed and shrieked as the venom invaded every available orifice, a symphony of suffering. Healing potions were gulped in desperation, but unless they had the antidote¡ªand let¡¯s be honest, they didn¡¯t¡ªscreaming was the only real outcome. Still, my eyes never left Iron.


    He, too, was healing. Slowly, sure, but healing nonetheless. The realization hit me belatedly: not everyone was as lucky (or cursed) as I to develop toxic neutralization early on, but for men like these? It was within the realm of possibility. Even so, their recovery wasn¡¯t exactly rapid. Judging by their unholy howls, they were still in exquisite agony.


    I sent another wave of summons their way. The gang members? They were irrelevant. Most couldn¡¯t even down a healing potion fast enough before collapsing. Iron, on the other hand, was nearly fully encased in his metal form. Oddly, he hadn¡¯t shifted into his beast form. Curious. Oh well¡ªcarry on, my little terrors! I knocked back another high-grade mana potion (the perks of apprenticing under a Master Alchemist) and felt my reserves surge back above 100. Time for round two.


    Summoning another swarm, I let the fresh batch fill themselves with the remnants of my venom stores. I was nearly tapped out, but the endgame was in sight. My attention returned to the gang leaders, a sly grin tugging at my lips. I focused my efforts on their... let¡¯s call them sensitive regions. Wriggling slightly with glee, I debated ramping up the assault. Were these really the fearsome overlords of the undercity? Pathetic. Utterly pathetic.


    And then, Iron exploded.


    No, not figuratively. He literally detonated.


    The inhuman scream that erupted from him was enough to make even the Voruun leader flinch. A blinding wave of fire burst from his body, incinerating his clothes, several unfortunate gang members, and most of the debris in the immediate vicinity. Even the Voruun leader was flung back like a ragdoll, and whatever remained of my swarm near Iron was reduced to crisped fragments or rendered useless by the searing heat.


    Confirmed¡ªhe was a dual-affinity warrior. Metal and Fire. A lethal combination, and he was wielding it with terrifying efficiency. From my rooftop vantage, I watched as he turned himself into a drakarri bomb again. The second explosion wasn¡¯t just destructive¡ªit was catastrophic. The searing wave evaporated everything within its radius, sending his own screaming gang members scattering for what little cover remained.


    When the smoke cleared, he emerged, clawed hands blazing like torches. His body, previously hardened into gleaming metal, now sported proper scales¡ªthick, reflective plates that glimmered ominously in the light of his flames. He looked like something dragged from the depths of a nightmare, and the acrid stench of rot rolling off him only added to the grotesque spectacle. My instincts screamed danger. There was something profoundly wrong with this man, though I couldn''t yet place what.


    What frustrated me most was the slow pace of his transformation. Why wasn¡¯t he fully shifting like his underlings? What was he waiting for? The answer tugged at the edge of my thoughts, though I hated to admit it. He wasn¡¯t an idiot¡ªquite the opposite. By shifting bit by bit, he was healing even while in his partially transformed state. Fighting my swarm wasn¡¯t a mindless flailing of brute strength; he was adapting, calculating. He knew he''d be injured and was timing his shifts to compensate, allowing him to take the brunt of the assault while remaining on the offensive.


    A deep, guttural roar tore through the street, breaking my train of thought. The shockwave it generated nearly knocked me off my perch. The ground beneath him fractured like shattered glass, and even the surrounding buildings groaned and cracked under the force. That roar wasn¡¯t just a sound; it was a declaration. A threat.


    This guy was more than dangerous¡ªI needed to cripple him and get out before this turned into a suicide mission. If he wanted to be half-dead by the end of this, fine by me, but I wasn¡¯t about to stick around to see how far he could go.


    He didn¡¯t make it easy, though. The street was now thick with noxious fumes, the byproduct of all those venom-loaded swarmlings he¡¯d incinerated. Yet, somehow, the poison vapour didn¡¯t seem to faze him. Flames surged from his body in wild arcs as he raged, scorching the street and vaporizing anything that dared approach. He wasn¡¯t just attacking¡ªhe was hunting, trying to flush out the source of his misery. And if he kept it up, this entire district would be ash before long.


    Fucking enforcers. They¡¯d show up soon enough, drawn by the destruction, and while I hated the idea of them ruining my plan, I also didn¡¯t want innocent lives caught in the crossfire. Iron was dangerous enough that even they wouldn¡¯t escape unscathed.


    Guiding my swarm, I focused on precise, targeted strikes. Sensitive areas were the priority, and I wasn¡¯t above going for the eyes. He burned or swatted away many of my summons, but some managed to slip through. One detonated against his eyeball with a satisfying pop. His scream of rage cracked the ground anew, and I allowed myself a smirk. What better way to cripple him than to blind him?


    But of course, Iron wasn¡¯t done.


    Molten metal shifted over his face, forming a slitted helmet. Impressive, but ultimately useless. My swarmlings were small enough to bypass the gaps, and another managed to detonate on his remaining eye. His roar this time was less of a sound and more of an earthquake, sending shockwaves rippling outward.


    When he finally emerged from the wreckage, his face had changed. Draconic. Horned. Serpentine. His slitted eyes gleamed, fully healed, as if mocking my efforts.


    And still, he refused to complete his transformation.


    ¡°Shit,¡± I muttered under my breath. This wasn¡¯t going to plan. At all.


    As much as I hated to admit it, my plan was officially a bust. Whittling him down to the point of incapacitation¡ªmuch less dragging him off to interrogate¡ªwas no longer on the table. My original goal, figuring out how the hell he was forcing his gang members to prematurely shift into their beast forms and what connection he had to that intruder, felt like a pipe dream now. The stench of rot radiating off him was overwhelming, nauseating, and utterly unnatural.


    Instead of breaking him down, all I¡¯d done was piss him off. And now, Iron was feral, a whirlwind of destruction, blasting anything and everything in his rage. He wasn¡¯t just dangerous anymore; he was apocalyptic. To make things worse, my venom stockpile was depleted, and my swarm had nothing left to feed on. My strategy, once promising, had burned itself out¡ªliterally.


    When he crouched low, I dared to hope. Was it finally catching up to him? Had the poison I¡¯d managed to land worked its way through? But no, instead of collapsing, his body erupted in yet another explosion of heat and light. When the flames settled, I saw what he¡¯d become¡ªtwo massive metallic wings jutted from his back, their edges razor-sharp, and a segmented tail lashed behind him like a living blade. He was still wreathed in fire. An infernal avatar. Of rage and of destruction.


    I swore under my breath, my gaze darting around for options. I really didn¡¯t want to shift, not here, not now. Lotte¡¯s anti-divination charm was my only safeguard, and while I trusted her work implicitly, she¡¯d warned me about its limitations. ¡°There are always loopholes,¡± she¡¯d said. ¡°Divinators just need one thread to follow.¡± If I transformed, I¡¯d leave a thread so glaringly obvious it might as well be a rope. I trusted Lotte, and I¡¯d assured her I could handle this little Iron problem myself. Clearly, I¡¯d gotten in over my head. Reality has a funny way of humbling you like that.


    I was just about to turn tail and run, cutting my losses and vowing to consult with Lotte first, when the temperature around me spiked. Not gradually¡ªviolently. The air became suffocating, like standing in the heart of a furnace. My heart hammered in my chest as my eyes scanned the street below, searching desperately for him.


    Nothing.


    ¡°Found you,¡± came a guttural voice.


    Close. Way too close.


    My blood ran cold.

 Chapter 94: No Room for Mistakes

    You never truly appreciate the sheer absurdity of a high yellow core''s strength¡ªnot even red, mind you¡ªuntil you witness someone reduce the pavement to rubble just to catapult themselves onto the second floor of a building on the far side of the street. It¡¯s all very theatrical until said someone starts hurtling toward you like a bloody cannonball. Mid-flight, he crashed below, wings flailing as though he¡¯d forgotten how to fly. Noted for future reference. He didn¡¯t quite manage to land where I was perched, but he made a fine mess of the ground beneath me. That was my cue to vacate.


    Without a second thought, my hands morphed into claws as I launched myself towards the next building, talons sinking into the rock with satisfying precision. Barely a heartbeat later, an explosion tore through the spot I¡¯d so prudently abandoned. A hailstorm of debris followed, some of it slicing through my cloak. Annoying, yes, but mostly superficial. Mostly.


    ¡°Bloody hell!¡± I muttered, scrabbling my way higher onto another rooftop. This was all going spectacularly pear-shaped. The bastard knew I was here. How, exactly, Iron had sniffed me out was a mystery¡ªI¡¯d been quite diligently inconspicuous. Maybe he had some sort of detection skill. No matter. What mattered was thinking on my feet.


    The air thickened with heat and dust, punctuated by the ominous scrape and crunch of Iron stirring below. Escape routes, then. I scanned my options. Running across rooftops? Viable¡ªafter all, I was nimble enough¡ªbut problematic. Air Sense was feeding me a steady stream of information, including the soft breaths of beastkin tucked away inside the surrounding homes. And Iron was no precision weapon; he was a bloody wrecking ball. Running meant collateral damage. Too much of it.


    This was supposed to be a low-risk mission. Just a quick in-and-out, not a bloody moral dilemma where I had to weigh my survival against innocent casualties. No. No rooftop hopping for me. I¡¯d have to keep this fight contained.


    Which left me with one option: biding my time.


    Not ideal, but it bought me time to come up with something better. Preferably after a proper chat with Lotte, who was bound to have thoughts on this particular fiasco. For now, I¡¯d settle for not getting obliterated while the Enforcers took their sweet time. Besides, I wasn¡¯t entirely defenceless. My skills¡ªmy Technique¡ªwould suffice.


    I focused, feeling the latent power of the Phantom Dragon Dance simmering beneath the surface. But patience, Jade. Not yet. Through the haze of smoke and crumbled stone, I could sense him standing there, waiting. Fine by me. Two could play that game.


    My fingers drifted over my cloak until they found the dagger I¡¯d laced with poison earlier. A neat little weapon, though hardly my forte¡ªI was far better with claws than blades. Still, the temptation to shift into dragon form and give this bastard a proper thrashing was nearly unbearable. Deep breath. Calm.


    The instant Iron so much as twitched in the smoke, I triggered the Phantom Dragon Dance. A familiar ripple ran through me as my body synced with the 4th dimension, the distortion aura cloaking me in a shroud of flickering unreality.


    Now, the real dance began.


    I felt it before I saw it¡ªthrough the fine edge of my heightened perception. The air pressure shifted, a surge of heat on my skin giving me just enough warning. I moved on instinct, sidestepping as a massive fireball roared past me, close enough to singe the edges of my cloak. It smashed into the rooftop behind me, showering the air with debris and sparks.


    No time for self-congratulations on my nimble footwork. He was already upon me.


    The temperature soared, the sharp tang of scorched metal stinging my nose. His claw, cloaked in white-hot flame, swept toward my chest like a blazing guillotine.


    I dropped low, claws scraping against the rooftop tiles as I twisted beneath his swing. The heat radiated over me, blistering even without contact¡ªa truly generous furnace impersonation. Using my momentum, I struck upward at his exposed flank, a counter as swift as it was calculated.


    Contact! But not the satisfying tear of flesh I¡¯d hoped for. Instead, the grating screech of claw meeting reinforced scale, sparks flying in defiance of my effort. His hide was tougher than I expected. Still, the impact was enough to send him stumbling. I still had my strength stat, after all. And as I darted backward, the Echo of my strike surged after him, this time rewarded with the faintest trickle of blood. A promising start.


    He recovered faster than seemed fair, fixing me with a draconic glare that could curdle milk. Then came his guttural growl.


    ¡°Who the fuck are you?¡±


    Ah, the timeless question. I, of course, wore a mask¡ªa plain white affair adorned with a whimsical flower motif, the sort of thing one finds at market stalls. A bit of alchemical reinforcement, a touch of enchantment, and voil¨¤: perfect for keeping one¡¯s mysteries intact. I stared back, saying nothing. Did he truly expect introductions?


    No matter. His wings flared, sending a burst of ash and embers spiraling into the night as he lunged, leading with a sweeping claw meant to herd me straight into his follow-up. Clever. Brutal. Predictable.


    But I wasn¡¯t in the mood to play by his rules.


    I feinted, slipping under his reach and springing upward, my claws sinking into a chimney wall. Using it for leverage, I flipped over his head, landing behind him with the precision of a cat. My claws, primed and waiting, raked across the base of his wings, and this time, oh yes, they found purchase. Flesh gave way, and he roared¡ªa sound so guttural it rattled the tiles beneath us. A part of me noted the similarities to my own roar, though his was... umm, I''d call it the budget version.


    He retaliated instantly, his flaming talons slashing out in a vicious arc. I barely had time to disengage, the force of his kick reducing the rooftop where I¡¯d stood to splinters. I landed in a crouch, breath measured but quick, eyes fixed on him as he turned to face me. Smoke curled from his scorched wings, and I took a moment to admire the dark, ragged tear I¡¯d left behind.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°I¡¯m asking you again. Tell me who the fuck you are. Maybe I¡¯ll fuck you up less.¡±


    I tilted my head, flexing my claws in a silent reply. What could I say? My mystery was part of my charm.


    He didn¡¯t take the hint.


    With a feral bellow, he charged, his flaming claw outstretched like a molten spear. This time, I waited. Let him think he¡¯d caught me flat-footed. At the last possible moment, I activated Phasing. My form shimmered, flickering like a half-forgotten dream, and his claw passed clean through where I¡¯d been. Heat washed over me, searing yet harmless as I slipped into that adjacent layer of reality.


    Reappearing at his flank, I drove my claws into his side, twisting with relish. His howl of pain was music to my ears, though I was already gone by the time he spun to retaliate. The Echo of my strike followed, deepening the wound further.


    Some games were worth playing, but stalling wasn¡¯t one of them¡ªnot when the stakes were this high. I was whittling him down, sure, but the truth was plain: chip damage wasn¡¯t going to end this. One glance at my stamina reserves told me I had more than enough in the tank to keep going, especially with my stats compensating for what my partial transformation lacked in organ functionality. Unless I made a fatal mistake, he wasn¡¯t touching me.


    And he knew it.


    I caught the flicker of frustration in his eyes after our exchange. He wasn¡¯t endless on mana, not at the rate he was throwing it around. High yellow. But did he still have enough in the tank to pull something disastrous? My instincts didn¡¯t have time to answer before they screamed at me to move.


    The rooftop where I¡¯d stood vanished in a fiery explosion, the shockwave knocking me sideways. As the smoke and debris cleared, he stepped out fully shifted, and my stomach turned.


    Wings spread wide, silver scales catching the glow of the flames, muscles rippling with raw power. His tail lashed behind him, sinuous and wicked. The smell of rot hit like a punch, clawing at my senses. My instincts surged, primal and loud, demanding blood.


    INTRUDER. ELIMINATE HIM. RIP HIM APART. KILL HIM. MURDER HIM.


    I clenched my claws, forcing the surge of rage down. Not now. His mouth opened, and a stream of fire erupted, roaring toward me.


    I sprinted sideways, barely staying ahead of the inferno as the flames chewed through the rooftop in my wake. The heat seared my skin, but I kept moving, darting between crumbling chimneys and shattered tiles. He twisted his head, adjusting his aim, but I zigzagged to make myself harder to track.


    He lunged, closing the distance in a heartbeat, his flaming claws slashing down. I pivoted on instinct, the ground cracking beneath the force of his strike as I evaded by inches. My claws raked across his forearm in retaliation, but his scales turned the blow aside, leaving only a faint scratch. Echo followed but the wound wasn¡¯t much deeper.


    His tail whipped around. A blur of muscle. I ducked, feeling it whistle past overhead, before I sprang upward, using the momentum to drive a clawed kick into his ribs. The impact jarred my leg, but I heard the crunch of something giving way.


    He snarled, spinning, his wings buffeting me with enough force to send me skidding back. I barely caught my footing before his jaws snapped shut where my head had been. A brutal swipe followed, but I phased, his claw passing harmlessly through me as I blinked to his flank.


    This time, I struck low, claws digging into the tendon at his hind leg. Blood spattered the tiles, and his roar shook the air. He whirled, his tail arcing toward me again.


    No time to dodge. I raised my arms to block, the force of the hit sending me crashing into a nearby chimney. It crumbled on impact, dust and debris clouding my vision. I scrambled up, ignoring the ache in my limbs, just as he came barreling forward.


    I sidestepped his charge, pivoting to slash at his exposed wing joint. My claws caught, tearing through membrane and sending him off balance. He staggered, but not for long.


    His claws came down in a punishing double strike, forcing me into another phase. The moment I reappeared, I didn¡¯t hesitate. I launched upward, claws gleaming as I raked across his neck. This time, I felt the satisfying give of flesh. Blood spilled, thick and dark, staining the air with its acrid tang. Echo followed, carving deeper into the wound, and his roar shook the rooftop¡ªa feral, unrestrained bellow. Flames burst from his maw in erratic jets, wild and furious.


    I ducked low, closing the gap, and drove a claw swipe at his chest. The strike landed, but his scales held firm, deflecting the worst of it. Still, the force knocked him off balance, just enough for Echo to land a heartbeat later, slicing into his side.


    That one hit harder than I¡¯d expected. He staggered, crashing down into the rooftop with a force that splintered wood and tiles alike.


    I wasn¡¯t about to give him time to recover. I sprang forward, claws aimed for his eyes¡ª


    My mistake.


    He was ready. My instincts screamed a split second too late. His tail, wreathed in flame, slammed into my side with brutal precision.


    Too late to dodge. Too late to phase. The impact was devastating, amplified by my own momentum. Pain detonated through me as his tail drove into my stomach, forcing a strangled yelp from my throat.


    Before I could regroup, a flaming fist followed, catching me square in the chest and sending me flying.


    I crashed through the rooftop with a bone-shaking impact, slamming through beams and splintered wood. Pain flared white-hot, so overwhelming it left me momentarily numb.


    FUCK.


    I gasped as I hit the second floor, crumpling amid a cascade of debris, then fell further, landing in a graceless heap on the ground floor.


    My claws trembled as I clutched my side, sharp stabs of agony cutting through every breath. Something was broken¡ªseveral somethings, by the feel of it. My durability stat wasn¡¯t worth much in this form, clearly.


    Or maybe my damn dragon scales were just that absurdly strong in comparison.


    Stupid fucking humanoid bodies.


    I forced myself to move, pain stabbing through every joint as I staggered to my feet. My vision swam, shapes and colors blurring into a mess. But one thing was clear. His massive, hulking form advancing toward me.


    Iron.


    I could just make out his monstrous silhouette.


    Yeah, that¡¯s it. Come on, then.


    With trembling fingers, I reached for the metal band on my wrist, a ruby-like gem gleaming faintly on it. Shifting was the last resort, but it was looking more tempting by the second.


    Then, out of nowhere, a massive blur smashed into Iron with the force of a runaway freight train. The impact sent his towering form careening across the floor, skidding through broken beams and debris.


    What the hell¡ª


    Before I could fully register what was happening, the blur hit him again, this time grabbing his tail like it was nothing more than a rope. It swung him around and slammed him into the ground. Once. Twice. Thrice.


    Each impact rattled the ground, the sounds of colliding echoing like thunder. It was brutal, almost comical, not unlike a kid bashing a toy against the ground just to see it break.


    I clung to a shattered beam for balance, claws retracting into trembling fingers as I teetered between blacking out and staying upright. Shifting could wait. For now.


    Then I heard it¡ªa whoop so exuberant it felt like it could shake the debris loose from the rafters.


    ¡°WOOOOHOOOO! REINFORCEMENTS HAVE ARRIVED!¡±


    A voice. Feminine. Loud. And entirely too cheerful for the carnage unfolding.

 Chapter 95: Time to Scram

    Little by little, my vision clawed its way back to something resembling normal. I must¡¯ve hit something hard when Iron¡¯s punch had sent me sailing off the second floor like yesterday¡¯s rubbish. By the gods, that hurt. A part of me even attempted to flap my non-existent wings in panic. It was downright humiliating, fumbling about in this inferior flesh sack¡ªno wings, no scales, no tentacles either. I was really starting to miss those. Tentacles were vastly underrated.


    My bleary gaze first fixed on the thing currently using Iron as a punching bag. A hulking brute of a man with shoulders wide enough to build a house on. Dressed in black, round ursine ears poking out, and fur thick enough to survive a blizzard¡ªyep, definitely an urgoth. Bear-kin. I watched, morbidly fascinated, as he grabbed Iron again, muttered something unintelligible, and proceeded to reintroduce him to the concept of pain.


    Iron, for his part, managed to slap one of his free claws across the urgoth¡¯s furry mug¡ªquite a feat considering how injured he was. The blow made the urgoth stagger back a few paces, blinking as if he¡¯d been insulted. Then he roared, charged like an avalanche, and smashed Iron into a wall with all the grace of a wrecking ball before repeatedly introducing his skull to the pavement below.


    Meanwhile, I stood up¡ªshakier than a three-legged stool during an earthquake. This body needed work. A lot of it. I felt unsteady, and I didn¡¯t like it one bit. My attention, however, was yanked elsewhere as a sound came from behind me.


    It was a massive salamander-like monster. Black as midnight, with claws that looked designed to snatch up trouble and shake it to bits. Agile-looking, too. Atop its back sat three riders¡ªtwo girls and a guy¡ªall masked. The salamander came to a halt, and its passengers slid off with well-practised ease.


    The shortest of the trio hit the ground first, already talking like her words had somewhere to be. ¡°Huh, didn¡¯t know those Fang Circle bastards called for backup other than us. Did they shake hands with a new gang? Lone mercenary, maybe?¡± Her voice was sharp, carrying the kind of curiosity that¡¯s as much suspicion as interest.


    The tallest of the group, a woman, stalked toward me. While the others rushed off to the street¡¯s edge to spectate the Iron versus urgoth disaster unfolding ahead.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯s part of the reinforcements,¡± the tall woman said, her voice a low, velvet timbre. ¡°Reinforcements or not, I think we might owe you one. Even if¡­¡± She hesitated, her tone shifting to a dry, almost playful reprimand. ¡°Even if you took a swing at our allies too. Not cool, by the way. But hey, you gave Iron a good beating, so thanks, I guess.¡±


    Even with the mask, her tall, pointed ears gave her away. Fox-kin. A faerin. She wore a robe-like dress, black with bold strips of red flames running across it like molten veins. Three vulpine tails swayed lazily behind her, elegant and menacing all at once. The hand she offered toward me was steady, but I wasn¡¯t keen on playing nice just yet. These people smelled of Voruun allies, and that wasn¡¯t a stink I could ignore. After a brief internal debate, I leaned back, wary.


    I didn¡¯t know what to say. I never knew what to say. So, I stuck to the safest policy: say absolutely nothing. Words have a nasty habit of digging holes I¡¯m not keen on falling into.


    Unbothered by my refusal, she withdrew her hand, rolling a shoulder in what seemed like both an apology and a shrug at once. ¡°We got word Iron was planning a big move against the Fang Circle,¡± she said, jerking a thumb toward the street. ¡°Since we¡¯ve helped them out before, they asked for backup. Not that we needed to say yes, but, well¡­ alliances in the Lower District are messy. Favors owed, disagreements simmering¡ªkill if you cross the line, but play nice if the benefits outweigh the blood. You know how it goes.¡±


    Her words flowed like a story she¡¯d told before, practiced but not robotic, with a thread of dry humor woven in. ¡°Strategy talks dragged on forever, and then we figured, well, let Iron fight the Fang Circle first. We¡¯d swoop in afterward and make it up as we went along. Not exactly a flawless plan, but hey¡ªdesperate times.¡±


    A sharp voice cut through the air. One of the others¡ªprobably the guy¡ªpointed frantically at the street where Iron and the urgoth had vanished into their brawl. The salamander, now carrying the final rider, bounded past me like a cannonball with legs, heading straight for the chaos.


    The faerin woman didn¡¯t miss a beat, her lips quirking in something between amusement and exasperation. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you know it? Half of Iron¡¯s lackeys went after others¡ªsome even came for us. Guess that¡¯s what happens when the boss doesn¡¯t stick close to the leash.¡± Her tone was almost mocking, but there was a flash of teeth as she licked her lips. ¡°Bet they wish they hadn¡¯t now.¡±


    She pivoted smoothly, her words picking up speed. ¡°His underlings weren¡¯t exactly pushovers, though. Forced into beast forms, their scales hard as armor, claws like razors¡ªfighting just one¡¯s a nightmare. A whole pack?¡± She let out a low whistle. ¡°No picnic.¡±


    ¡°YEAH!¡± The high-pitched interruption came from the shorter girl, now suddenly reappeared at her friend''s side. Her mask left her mouth visible too, and the wide grin baring sharp canines told me she was having way too much fun. ¡°But, Whisper! They¡¯re still not as scary as Iron himself. LIKE! Not even a tenth as scary. We wrecked their asses easy!¡±


    Her robe, a mix of fiery reds and dusky pinks, matched the bold energy of her words. Another three fox tails curled behind her, and her raven hair fell straight and sleek, framing her ever-grinning expression.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    The taller woman, apparently called Whisper, ruffled the shorter one¡¯s hair with an air of indulgent affection. ¡°True,¡± she admitted, her tone softening with a hint of sisterly warmth.


    The younger faerin darted toward the street¡¯s edge, practically vibrating with excitement. She half-turned as she hollered back, ¡°WOOHOO! Iron¡¯s getting his ass handed to him!¡± Then her sharp gaze sliced toward me, the grin still plastered on her face. ¡°What did you do to him, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Poison,¡± the tall faerin¡ªWhisper¡ªchimed in before I could even muster a grunt, her words as smooth as silk dipped in smug. ¡°A lot of poison,¡± she added, with a grace that somehow made the statement feel elegant. ¡°Enough to short-circuit even his regeneration. Got it into some... interesting places, too. He¡¯s already slowing down from the overload. Poor bastard¡¯s gonna feel absolutely bollocked when he shifts back to his drakkari form.¡±


    I froze, my stomach doing an uneasy little flip. Brute forcing through that poison? Seriously? My mind spun as I replayed the scene, piecing together every moment. I¡¯d gone overboard, hadn¡¯t I? Way overboard. That poison wasn¡¯t going to just burn out; it was going to linger. Even after he shifted back to his original form... oh. Ohhhhh. A wince yanked at my face like a string pulled too tight.


    Whisper caught it, her sharp eyes glinting as she turned back to me. Her sly smile deepened, the kind of expression that said she lived for these moments. ¡°Right then! Introductions!¡± she declared, clapping her hands together with the enthusiasm of someone who clearly enjoyed taking center stage. ¡°That one¡¯s Quickpaw,¡± she said, gesturing to the happy menace grinning behind her.


    Quickpaw gave me a cheeky little wave, her canines flashing as if to remind me that her smile wasn¡¯t entirely friendly.


    ¡°I¡¯m Whisper,¡± the taller faerin continued smoothly, then gestured vaguely toward the dude who¡¯d vanished down the street astride the massive salamander. ¡°The saryn with the oversized lizard? That¡¯s Viper. Creative, I know, but hey, his lizard, his rules. And finally, there¡¯s Brickfist.¡±


    Brickfist. That had to be the urgoth currently playing pi?ata with Iron. No one else in this mess fit the bill. Obviously, these weren¡¯t real names¡ªthis city thrived on chaos and the kind of anonymity flashy aliases provided. When gangs roamed the streets, anyone with a brain masked up and picked a moniker that hinted at danger or flair¡ªor both. Apparently, these four had cornered the market on both.


    Introductions finished, Whisper turned her gaze back to me, leveling me with a stare that dragged on just long enough to start itching under my skin. I held my ground¡ªor at least pretended to. Wobbly though it felt, I wasn¡¯t about to fold. Not yet.


    Quickpaw, still lurking at Whisper¡¯s shoulder, finally broke the silence, her voice softening for the first time. ¡°Hey,¡± she asked, tilting her head slightly, ¡°you okay? You hurt?¡±


    Before I could respond¡ªor figure out if I should¡ªWhisper cut in, her smile sharpening into something wickedly knowing. ¡°The reason she¡¯s not introducing herself isn¡¯t because she¡¯s hurt,¡± she remarked. ¡°It¡¯s because¡ª"


    She stopped cold as her smile flickered and faded, her head snapping to the side. Whatever she¡¯d been about to say was abandoned. ¡°Heads up,¡± she muttered. ¡°That¡¯s our cue. We¡¯ve gotta scram.¡±


    Her lips moved soundlessly, but every other head in the vicinity snapped to her like well-trained hounds. Viper arrived atop his salamander a heartbeat later, the beast¡¯s claws scraping against the pavement.


    ¡°Fucking Enforcers,¡± Quickpaw groused, already reaching for Viper¡¯s outstretched hand. ¡°Always ruining everything.¡± She settled herself deftly beside him before shooting me a grin. ¡°Want a ride?¡±


    I didn¡¯t answer straight away. My gaze flicked to the salamander instead¡ªa hulking, scale-armoured lizard that flinched the second I looked at it. A full-body shudder rippled through its frame, and it began to tremble, claws scrabbling nervously on the stone.


    ¡°Oi, hey!¡± Viper soothed, his tone sharp with something like incredulity. Couldn¡¯t see his face behind that mask, but I¡¯d wager the expression was somewhere between ¡®What the hell?¡¯ and ¡®What did you do?¡¯


    Nothing, honestly. I just looked at the damn thing. Monsters always had an uncanny knack for sensing when something was¡­ off about me. Belle once said I smelled dangerous, even in my drakkari form. Never quite figured out how one goes about smelling danger, but apparently it was a thing.


    I shook my head¡ªno ride for me¡ªearning a little huff of disappointment from Quickpaw. No doubt they were sizing me up, wondering if I was part of some rival gang or a lone upstart with a death wish. Why else would someone go toe-to-toe with the overlords of the Lower District?


    ¡°Hey.¡± Whisper¡¯s voice broke my thoughts. She¡¯d perched herself neatly behind Quickpaw, her vulpine mask tilting just so. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    The question hung there for a moment. My mind stuttered, whirring through possibilities. Playing along could be useful¡ªinformation was worth its weight in gold, and these lot didn¡¯t seem hostile. Friendly, even. I opened my mouth, hesitated, then settled on the truth. Well, part of it.


    ¡°Well.... just call me Venom?¡±


    Whisper¡¯s smile returned. ¡°Well then, Miss Venom,¡± she said smoothly, ¡°a gang of Enforcers will be here in less than a minute. You did us a solid by dealing with Iron, so take my advice: when those guys show up and find two lesser beasts battering each other into next week, they¡¯re not going to let anyone stroll off into the sunset. You should move.¡±


    The grin she flashed me was deceptively soft, stretching across her face in a way that looked far too familiar¡ªlike the dangerous mirror of my own. Behind her mask, her eyes glittered with something wicked. Mischief, maybe. Trouble, definitely.


    And with that, the salamander sprang into motion, leaping clear over my head in a blur. Brickfist landed neatly on its back mid-bound. Its shifting scales shimmered before my eyes as they all disappeared¡ªwell, to the naked eye, anyway. My air sense still tracked them. The salamander was faster than it had any right to be, especially for something lugging that much baggage. Over the rooftops they fled, and then¡­ nothing.


    I let out a breath I didn¡¯t know I¡¯d been holding. Or nearly did, anyway. Before I felt new breathing signatures close in from all directions.

 Chapter 96: No Rest for the Moderately Unfortunate

    I¡¯d had my fair share of disasters¡ªenough to fill a modest tragedy anthology. Time to make myself scarce before the Enforcers swooped in and found me lurking about. Shame I couldn¡¯t use the dimensional lamina in this form, so I settled for the next best thing: my trusty technique. Distortion cloaked my form as I darted down a trouble-free street, claws sinking into the nearest wall as I scaled upward with all the grace of a particularly vexed lizard. Rooftops it was¡ªbetter for avoiding both prying eyes and meddlesome enforcers. Besides, the lower district was a cesspit of trouble: pickpockets, beggars, and every other breed of street rat looking for an easy score.


    Not that I was in the best shape for acrobatics. Every movement sent a sharp reminder of my bruises, and I winced as I leapt. No healing potions, either¡ªa masterstroke of idiocy on my part. One glance at the bracer wrapped around my wrist only deepened my grimace. It was tied to my transformation, a marvel of craftsmanship that, umm, let¡¯s just say, didn¡¯t quite work as advertised. But that was a problem for later¡ªpreferably when I was in the safety of my room and not dodging trouble.


    I¡¯d barely reached the rooftops when I heard it: the faint hum of something approaching. Flattening myself against the tiles, I peered below. Ah, there they were¡ªfinally. Enforcers, and on flying swords no less. I counted six, all clad in silver armour, representing a medley of races. Hardly surprising, given Varkaigrad was the capital of Vraal¡¯kor. It¡¯d be more shocking if it wasn¡¯t this diverse. Quite the contrast to human lands.


    What did catch me off guard was how young most of them looked. Save for one¡ªa Rakari, lion-kin who appeared to be the leader. His helm obscured most of his face, but his bearing made it clear he was the one in charge.


    Enforcers here were their own brand of menace. Not monster-slayers, these were people trained to fight other people. They called themselves the Iron Pact, originally formed to unify law enforcement among the beast-kin sects. Over time, though, they¡¯d grown into something much bigger, militarized and deeply political. The kind of people who¡¯d not only keep the peace but also stir the pot when it suited their interests.


    They even had their own seat in the city¡¯s ruling faction, the Council of Five Claws¡ªa coalition of five powerful families representing the major sects. A bit misleading, since there were more than five actual members, all seated up high and debating whatever tedious political nonsense occupied their days. I¡¯d never been one for politics¡ªalways seemed dreadfully boring. Or maybe there¡¯s a better word for it, but I couldn¡¯t be bothered to think of one. What mattered was that the Enforcers weren¡¯t just justice-bringers; they were power brokers, wielding authority to keep Varkaigrad¡¯s chaos in check.


    And in a city this massive¡ªwhere it¡¯d take me over two bloody hours to reach the middle district even at high speeds¡ªthat was no small task.


    I lingered just long enough to watch them shuffle about before common sense took over. Hanging around was a splendid way to get myself caught, and I wasn¡¯t in the mood for interrogations or flying-sword chases. My plan was simple: head to Market Square, ditch these ragged clothes for something less conspicuous, and hitch a ride back to the middle district. My destination? Vasilisa¡¯s Alchemy Workshop¡ªmy new home. For now, anyway.


    Even as I bounded from rooftop to rooftop, my thoughts clung to recent memories like a stubborn cobweb. Trust? That was a luxury I couldn''t afford¡ªespecially not with enforcers, nor anyone else in this grim corner of the world. Gweneth¡¯s ominous revelations still echoed in my mind, tales of something shadowy playing god. Enough to make even the firmest ground feel like quicksand beneath one¡¯s boots.


    The gods I once prayed to¡ªyes, even Thalador, whom I dutifully beseeched daily as a child¡ªwere no longer minding the store, so to speak. They¡¯d scarpered, left the continent adrift. Outsiders had a name for our land: the Forsaken Lands. Fitting, since the gods had well and truly forsaken us.


    What that actually meant was anyone¡¯s guess. Gwen, like Lotte, ever the purveyor of cryptic wisdom, hadn¡¯t exactly been forthcoming with the details. But one thing was clear: every church here, every last sacred edifice, had been tainted. Something new had moved in¡ªsomething that called itself divine or, more disturbingly, something people had decided to call divine. And whatever it was, it wasn¡¯t content with sitting on its celestial laurels; no, it was actively gathering a bloody army.


    Lithrindel had borne the brunt of it. Their royal family, supposedly descended from the bloodline of Goddess Selene herself, made them an irresistible target. The result? Lithrindel was not just a powder keg¡ªit was a powder keg with a lit fuse. And that¡¯s precisely why I was here, in this comparatively safer patch of chaos, rather than with Gwen.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Well, that and a handful of other reasons. Chief among them? Lithrindel was far too perilous for someone like me. Even this place crawled with powerhouses so far out of my league it wasn''t even funny. Just waltzing up to confront my so-called doppelganger and her family? Out of the question. There was a deeper conspiracy lurking beneath that mess, of course. Nothing¡¯s ever straightforward¡ªespecially when you¡¯re weak. And bluntly put? I was weak. Not entirely useless, mind you, but on the grand power scale, I was just a pebble daring to piss off a landslide. At best, I¡¯d rate myself a high yellow core, maybe brushing against red on a good day. Translating that into standard core systems was tricky, but I could probably escape¡ªor, if I were feeling particularly reckless, give a low red core a bit of a headache. High yellow was likely my ceiling for now. And I hated knowing it.


    My brooding was cut short as the bustling market district came into view. Carts laden with goods and people lounging on flying carpets drifted lazily through the air. Ah, Varkaigrad. Despite its reputation, it was remarkably advanced when it came to enchanting and alchemy. Not exactly what I¡¯d pictured when people muttered about the Wilds of Vraal¡¯Kor. Back in Randall, where I¡¯d grown up, beast-kins were written off as primitive savages. How wrong they were. How wrong I had been. Varkaigrad shattered every preconception I¡¯d held, and perhaps for the better.


    But alas, there was no time to dwell on such revelations. I leapt down into a secluded alleyway, my landing softer than my current mood. Time to change, head back, and catch up with Viera before she started waving flags over my little disappearance. No rest for the wicked, eh? Or, in my case, the moderately unfortunate.


    ***


    Didn¡¯t take me long to swap out my attire and hitch a ride back to the middle district on a flying carpet. Perks of a paid apprenticeship¡ªfinally, a bit of coin to splash about. I now sported a plain brown tunic and trousers, leaving behind my tattered robe and anything else that said "just survived a disaster."


    I even snagged an inferior healing potion from a nearby shop. Could I have brewed something far superior myself? Absolutely. But appearances mattered, and I needed to look like I hadn¡¯t just stumbled out of a battle. With a theatrical wince, I had downed the potion. Inferior was generous; it tasted and felt like someone had bottled optimism and hope rather than actual ingredients. Honestly, who gave these people licenses?


    As the carpet floated deeper into the city, I found my gaze snagging on the blur of lights and motion below. Varkaigrad never failed to amaze me with its sheer scale. The chill of winter crept in. It was sharp and¡­ bracing, while the horizon dimmed toward nightfall. The air smelled faintly of frost, snow might be on the way. And snow was soothing, in its own quiet way.


    The further we flew, the more the city transformed around me. The chaos of the lower district, the haphazard jumble of mismatched buildings and slapdash planning¡ªbegan to fade. In its place rose a sharper, more deliberate sense of order. The crooked alleyways and buildings seemingly thrown together at random gave way to wide, straight streets flanked by sturdy stone structures. Their fa?ades were simple but uniform, built with a clear purpose in mind. Shops lined the streets with polished signs hung above their doors, their windows aglow with warm light that spilled onto the clean, cobbled pathways.


    The further we went, the more the mood seemed to shift. The noise of street hawkers and clattering carts softened, replaced by something softer. The steady hum of life at a slower, more refined pace. Lanterns, fueled by some alchemical glow, hung in neat rows along the streets, casting pools of warm golden light. Something to hold the winter¡¯s encroaching darkness at bay. The middle district was organized, functional. Almost clinical in its perfection compared to the lower chaos. Yet, it didn¡¯t lack charm. The subtle details, ornate wrought-iron railings on balconies, small bursts of winter flowers in carefully maintained planters. It was a layer of thoughtfulness that balanced practicality with aesthetic.


    Soon enough, my stop arrived. I disembarked, tossing a silver to the gentleman attending the carpet. A fair fare, really¡ªhoofing it back would¡¯ve taken an eternity and then some. The square was quiet, save for the imposing presence of the Alchemy Workshop looming beside me. A rather ostentatious affair, encircled by a barrier and nestled amidst a sprawling garden. Through the trees, one could just about glimpse the grand tower within.


    Gwen¡¯s connections had secured me a spot here¡ªa generous favour that apparently cost her a pretty penny. ¡°Don¡¯t squander the opportunity,¡± she¡¯d warned. But truthfully, I had my own agenda for delving into the advanced alchemy Varkaigrad offered. Dual motives. Education and a bit of¡­ mischief.


    Speaking of mischief, I made my way to the workshop¡¯s backside, all stealthy. The barrier was water-elemental¡ªpractically inviting me to phase through, no questions asked. It¡¯s the sort of perk that makes sneaking out and back in a breeze. No one need ever know. Especially not Master Vasilisa, who had been jitterier than a squirrel in a thunderstorm lately, issuing stern warnings about venturing out unsupervised. Curious as I was about what had her so spooked, other priorities had edged that investigation onto my ever-growing back burner.


    Now, though¡­ phasing didn''t play nicely with clothing. So, a quick glance around¡ªwith a little help from Air Sense¡ªconfirmed I was alone. Crisis averted, I activated my technique and slipped through the barrier, the winter air biting me as I emerged on the other side, sans attire. ¡°Oh, Thalador,¡± I muttered, hurrying to retrieve the stash of clothes I¡¯d hidden in the nearby trees. Once dressed and with a fresh anti-divination badge pinned on (the last one having unceremoniously phased off with my discarded ensemble), I scaled the dormitory wall with practiced ease. A few nimble moves later, I was safely back in my room.


    Or so I thought.


    Sitting there, sipping tea with an air of disapproval sharper than Vasilisa¡¯s warnings, were Belle and Viera. Belle, ever the demanding badger, immediately voiced her grievances.


    ¡°Squee?!¡± she chittered accusingly.


    Ah. The fish and biscuits. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I forgot!¡± I stammered, trying to placate her.


    ¡°Squee!¡± came her indignant reply, clearly unimpressed.


    But the real hurdle was Viera. She fixed me with a look that suggested she was less than thrilled with my antics. I had hoped to collapse onto my bed, blissfully unbothered, but no such luck. If I wanted to sidestep her suspicions¡ªand subtly guide her in the process¡ªI¡¯d need to come clean. Or at least offer answers convincing enough to satisfy her curiosity. After all, I¡¯d been the one to insist on bringing her along. Time to follow through.

 Chapter 97: Half-Dragon, Half-Truth

    I took a deep breath, letting my thoughts gather. Seated at the edge of my bed, tea in hand, I mulled it all over. The main reason I¡¯d dragged Viera along on this escapade was, well, rather straightforward. The need arose from my little nocturnal jaunts.


    It all circled back to the notion of shifting. A phenomenon every beast-kin species experiences upon reaching a significant power breakthrough. Specifically, a red core¡ªa truly monumental achievement. And when I say monumental, I don¡¯t mean a quaint village monument; I¡¯m talking full Stonehenge levels of importance. This transformation carried profound cultural weight. It wasn¡¯t just about turning into something flashy. No, it was about connecting with one¡¯s latent bloodline¡ªthe so-called ancestors that every beast-kin worships with unbridled reverence. Sacred stuff, the sort of thing that gets celebrated with feasts, dances, and probably a fair share of questionable decisions.


    Now, smaller transformations weren¡¯t unheard of even before reaching red core. Take us Drakkaris, for instance. We could morph bits of ourselves to match our species¡ªclaws for hands, maws for mouths, and a smattering of temporary scales for good measure. If you had a particularly deep bloodline, you might even sprout a baby tail or wings, which, naturally, marked you as having an enviable connection to the ancestors. For us Drakkari, those ancestors were almost certainly dragons¡ªthough good luck finding that spelled out in any dusty tome. The lack of mention made me wary. Suspicious. Better safe than sorry when it came to parading my heritage.


    What no one could do pre-red core, however, was fully shift into their sacred beast form. This was the ultimate transformation, held in near-religious regard. So imagine my shock when I stumbled across a local Drakkari gang who¡¯d apparently cracked the code, shifting into beast forms well before their time. It wasn¡¯t just baffling; it was downright alarming. A breakthrough like that should¡¯ve had the Enforcers swooping in faster than a hawk on a mouse. Yet, nothing. Silence. Inaction.


    The rumours were thick as treacle, spreading from Varkaigrad¡¯s back alleys to the middle district, even reaching the ears of folk like Viera. Of course, she wouldn¡¯t believe a word without seeing it firsthand¡ªshe¡¯s pragmatic like that. Still, the rumours themselves were strange. Whispers of these shifters turning into ¡°abominations¡± instead of the revered beast forms. That alone didn¡¯t prick my curiosity, but the rotting stench I¡¯d caught while observing these shifts certainly did. It was the same foul essence I¡¯d sensed when that Elven heir ascended to low-gold.


    Now, Vraal¡¯Kor wasn¡¯t exactly a hub of organised religion¡ªno churches to speak of. Its people worshipped their ancestors instead, which, according to Gwen, made it one of the least influenced places by that Thing. And yet, here was its unmistakable stink, wafting through the air like an uninvited guest when I encountered those guys. Combine that with the higher-ups¡¯ conspicuous apathy, and it didn¡¯t take a soothsayer to realise something was rotten in the state of Vraal¡¯Kor.


    I was hurtling headfirst down a rabbit hole and picking up speed. I¡¯d already sent a letter to Gwen, using the umm, method of communication she gave me, but thus far, no response. Sitting idly by wasn¡¯t an option. My curiosity, paired with a simmering anger, gnawed at me relentlessly. That Thing, whatever it was, had no good intentions. This entire mess was bound to culminate in disaster, and I had more than a sneaking suspicion that a corrupted elf was pulling the strings.


    As for Viera, she was the daughter of a lesser sect leader under one of Vraal¡¯Kor¡¯s five ruling families. A status I clearly lacked, being little more than a speck of dirt on the city¡¯s boots. She had what I needed: actual strings to pull with the bigwigs. But telling her outright that people were shifting below red core? She¡¯d laugh me clean out of the room. Still, there was something distinctly fishy about the whole situation¡ªthe Enforcers¡¯ apathy, the garbled rumours, the mutterings about abominations. What if I could slide this problem onto the plates of the ruling families? If Viera ran her mouth to daddy dearest, maybe, just maybe, someone up top would finally pay attention.


    Naturally, it was a risky gambit. Trouble and I weren¡¯t exactly strangers, but I wasn¡¯t keen on inviting it to tea. I could have ignored it all, turned my back, and let my curiosity shrivel like an unwatered fern. But no¡ªsomething was bound to happen, and I couldn¡¯t stomach leaving it alone. So, I dragged Viera into the mix after gathering some critical information: the same gang was targeting rival outfits in the slums. Getting the intel was no picnic, of course. It took over a month of relentless skulking, sneaking, and eavesdropping. Once I¡¯d pieced it together, I decided to bring her along.


    And now, the hard part¡ªexplaining it all without her tearing strips off me. With a resigned sigh, I began recounting the essentials. Not everything¡ªjust enough to whet her interest. I mentioned the shifting, the Enforcers¡¯ blissful inertia, and left the juicier details under lock and key.


    ¡°I suppose that checks out,¡± she said eventually. ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯d have believed you otherwise.¡±


    I was just opening my mouth to deliver a cheeky retort, grin primed, when Viera¡¯s voice sliced through the moment like a whetted blade. ¡°But¡ªwhere the hell were you when that guy attacked?!¡±


    Arms crossed, voice a whip of accusation and exasperation, she clearly wasn¡¯t buying my half-truths. Delicate work ahead. Couldn¡¯t very well admit I¡¯d tried to poison their leader, failed spectacularly, got my arse handed to me, and fled like the cowardly wretch I am. That wouldn¡¯t do.


    ¡°I¡ª¡± I stammered, pretending her question had knocked me off balance. ¡°What do you mean, where was I? I was there! Same as you!¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°There? Really?¡± Her eyes narrowed to slits. ¡°Because all I saw was you pulling a vanishing act while I was left scrambling to save my own skin!¡±


    ¡°Well, forgive me for not pausing mid-ambush to hand out a detailed itinerary,¡± I shot back, barely suppressing a grin as Belle, standing beside me, squinted disapprovingly. ¡°What did you want me to do? Wave a flag and shout, ¡®Follow me, Viera, this way to safety!¡¯?¡±


    Her glare could have liquefied iron. ¡°You could¡¯ve stayed, for one.¡±


    ¡°Stayed?¡± I scoffed, throwing up my hands in mock disbelief. ¡°Oh, what a cracking idea! Stand there like a glorified punching bag for the lot of them, shall I? When I said I got half swept away by the crowd, I wasn¡¯t exaggerating. Honestly, Viera, I thought you were sharper than that.¡±


    She huffed, crossing her arms, but then something shifted in her expression. ¡°You disappeared. I thought¡ª¡± She hesitated, her tone softening like butter left in the sun. ¡°I thought something happened to you. Maybe you were up to trouble, and maybe one of those thugs caught you. I¡¯ve heard stories about the kind of... crimes those gangs commit. I just¡­ I was scared. A little.¡±


    I blinked, her rare vulnerability catching me off guard. ¡°Caught?¡± I repeated, lowering my voice to match hers. ¡°Oh, come now, Viera. You know me better than that. I don¡¯t get caught. Besides, I can handle myself in a scrap. I¡¯d have given anyone foolish enough to try a proper arse-whooping.¡± Which I had, of course. Oh, the memory. Delightful. Could¡¯ve done with a bit more blood, though. Tsk. ¡°You just lost sight of me, that¡¯s all.¡±


    Her frown deepened, but there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes.


    ¡°Sooo¡­ you ran and left me to fend for myself,¡± she accused, her voice laced with growing irritation.


    ¡°I tactically relocated,¡± I corrected, my tone far too smug for her liking. ¡°And you ran too, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªwell, yes,¡± she admitted reluctantly. ¡°But I didn¡¯t vanish into thin air like you did!¡±


    ¡°And yet, here I am, late because I circled back to make sure you were all right. I lost track of you in the chaos, and by the time I found a way out, you were already gone.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ circled back?¡± she echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief.


    ¡°Of course I did,¡± I said, feigning wounded pride. ¡°What kind of person do you take me for? I might be a sneak, but I¡¯m not heartless.¡±


    Something I said must¡¯ve struck a chord, because her eyes softened, glistening just slightly before she darted forward and wrapped her arms around me in a hug. I froze, startled as a cat caught under a sudden downpour, but I managed to mask my shock and return the embrace. She pulled away after a moment, letting out a long, weary sigh.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll believe you¡ªfor now,¡± she relented, wagging a finger in warning. ¡°But if you pull that vanishing act again, I swear to the ancestors¡ª!¡±


    Ah, it seemed I¡¯d stumbled upon some rather tender nerves there. Truth be told, I had a soft spot for Viera, but making friends had never been my forte. Always the lone wolf, or perhaps lone dragonling in my case¡ªmy gaze fixed firmly on my ambitions, a fortress of books, and a dream too unwieldy for attachments. Maybe it was the ghosts of my past haunting me, but times had changed. Perhaps¡­ perhaps it was time I entertained the notion of change, even if only as a guest for tea.


    But not today. After a lively round of verbal ping-pong, I finally wrung Viera dry enough to get her to spill her little secret to daddy dearest. Now, would it have been more satisfying to have Iron tied to a chair, truth serum shoved up his crusty, scaly arse, and squealing every filthy secret like a tortured canary? Absolutely. But life¡¯s a stingy little bastard that rarely lets you have that kind of fun. So, with a painfully polite farewell, I shut the door and slumped against it, exhaling a sigh so heavy it damn near left a dent in the floor.


    I cast my eyes about the room. The storm of chaos had abated, leaving my notes and research neatly stacked on the bedside table. Books, once scattered like fallen leaves, now formed orderly towers on the floor. Belle, ever industrious badger, had clearly been busy in my absence. I prided myself on maintaining a semblance of order, a place for everything and everything in its place. Yet lately, that fa?ade had begun to crack. My meticulousness was slipping, my actions growing increasingly frantic. And I didn¡¯t care for it one bit. Why? A cocktail of reasons of course, none of which demanded immediate attention but all of which gnawed incessantly at my edges.


    The little badger chirped from the windowsill. With another sigh, I removed my bracer, feeling the enchantment relinquish its hold on my form. The glass pane reflected my figure, and there it was¡ªthe stark reality of my transformation.


    The ability wasn¡¯t as straightforward as I¡¯d na?vely hoped. It boasted two states, one being my dragon form (magnificent, naturally) and the other¡­ half-human. The distinction, as it turned out, lay in that crucial word, ¡°half.¡±


    The reflection staring back at me made that abundantly clear. This wasn¡¯t the half-drakkari, half-human amalgam I¡¯d been before. No, this was something else entirely¡ªhalf-human, half-dragon. A draconic visage, crimson eyes slitted like a predator¡¯s, with silver scales glinting in the faint light. Writhing tentacles adorned with sharp, bony tips coiled along my neck and back. Wings, claws, talons, and a whip-like tail completed the picture, while silver hair cascaded like molten mercury over my shoulders. Standing just shy of seven feet tall, I was this¡­ towering testament to draconic beauty.


    I recalled my first attempt at transformation. Why on earth had I thought it would return me to my pre-dragon state? The memory threatened to bubble into a gravelly laugh, but I swallowed it down. This form was¡­ exquisite, in its own way, just like my full dragon form.


    Every upgrade, every stat increase, every skill and organ acquired¡ªit all transferred seamlessly. The only real difference was the shape. A humanoid dragon might be just as practical, but it was no less draconic.


    Thus this form too, like my true dragon form, was strictly for private viewings. Early on, Gwen had assisted me in concealing it¡ªa blend of enchantments and shapeshifting alchemy that suppressed my more conspicuous features. But the method wasn¡¯t perfect, suppressing not just the visible changes but some of my abilities as well. Naturally, I was working on an alternative.


    I sank into my chair with yet another sigh, accepting the book Belle handed me with a nod of thanks. Flipping to the bookmarked page, I resumed my research. The focus of my studies was precise: the ability to selectively shift parts of myself while maintaining my drakkari form. Adaptability was the key, and I could feel a breakthrough looming tantalizingly close. Even Master Vasilisa had taken an interest in my work. Her obsessive fascination with alchemy mirrored my own dedication, and while I found her meddlesome, I couldn¡¯t deny the value of her insights.


    I was mid-sentence in my notes when an icy shiver snaked through the room, a familiar chill that set my tentacles twitching. My gaze snapped to the far corner, instincts sharpening. It seemed Gwen¡¯s messenger had finally arrived.

 Chapter 98: Probing, Pushing, Testing

    The dim mana lamp in my room sputtered weakly. I stiffened as the first sign of its arrival appeared¡ªa dense, grey haze that rolled in like an unwelcome fog, stealing what little warmth the room had left. The temperature plummeted. Two bright crimson orbs pierced through the gloom, followed by the glint of wickedly sharp fangs as the haze began to clear.


    And what emerged was nothing short of alarming. The creature stood hulking and menacing, its sheer size rivaling that of a golem. Black scales, streaked with silvery flecks, glistened in the dim light. Its skeletal face boasted a long, bony nose and a maw filled with curved teeth that seemed more suited for tearing than eating. Two pairs of elongated arms ended in cruel, razor-like claws, and its tattered robes hung loosely over its frame, giving it the air of a forgotten, undead monstrosity.


    But I knew better. This was no undead. No, this was an astral beast. Gwen had lectured me at length about them¡ªfar more than I cared to hear, if I¡¯m honest. She adored her underlings with the fervour of a collector showing off rare porcelain, recounting tales of her acquisitions from the many realms beneath Parda. Exhaustively.


    So, I knew better than to underestimate the beast before me. This one, by all appearances, was formidable¡ªa mid-red core at least, possibly high. It exuded a quiet menace, its skeletal head twitching as it emitted a strange, chittering noise. Then, just as suddenly, it bowed low in front of me, its glowing blue claws holding out a marble-like device.


    An offering, apparently.


    I stepped forward cautiously, despite myself, reaching for the device. Belle, meanwhile, decided this was the perfect moment for pleasantries.


    ¡°Squee!¡± she chirped brightly in greeting. Of course, Belle liked the beast. Belle liked everyone.


    ¡°Squee?¡± she inquired, head tilted adorably. Would it like some tea, perhaps? Belle did make the best tea, or so she¡¯d have me believe.


    To my mild astonishment, the creature gave a small, hesitant nod, pointedly avoiding my gaze. Belle positively beamed at that. She lived for moments like this, her happiness entirely too dependent on the approval of tea drinkers. And off she scampered to prepare another batch, humming contentedly to herself.


    I turned my attention back to the device¡ªa smooth, unassuming orb of white marble, utterly mundane until given the gentlest nudge of mana. The instant I obliged, runes flared to life, swirling across its surface in an intricate dance as it floated into the air. A shimmering field enveloped the room¡ªlikely Gwen¡¯s handiwork, an airtight spell to hush any eavesdroppers and, knowing her, with a side order of anti-divination for good measure. Thorough, as ever.


    The orb gave a faint pulse before a familiar voice shattered the silence.


    ¡°Oh, darling! Got your message earlier, and my, haven¡¯t you been keeping yourself splendidly occupied? How delightful!¡±


    I barely had time to draw breath for an interruption before Gwen charged ahead with her usual flair.


    ¡°Now, now, I know you¡¯re absolutely bursting with questions, but I must dash your hopes¡ªthis little t¨ºte-¨¤-t¨ºte is going to be dreadfully one-sided.¡±


    Wait. Come again?


    ¡°This message is pre-recorded,¡± Gwen explained. ¡°Dreadfully sorry for the inconvenience, little dragon, but Lithrindel¡¯s condition was¡­ well, let¡¯s just say it¡¯s a smidge more precarious than I¡¯d anticipated. I¡¯ve had to take an extra dollop of caution, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    I scowled, swallowing back a rather creative selection of expletives as questions jostled for attention in my head. Just how dire was Lithrindel¡¯s kingdom that even Gwen¡ªGwen, of all people¡ªfelt the need to tiptoe? Another mystery to shelve for later, it seemed.


    Meanwhile, Gwen¡¯s voice prattled on, cheerful as a lark.


    ¡°So, you¡¯ve sniffed out traces of it in Varkaigrad.¡± She paused for a moment. ¡°I must say, your draconic instincts would rarely fail us, so I¡¯m inclined to trust your nose on this one. You said it smelled of rot, didn¡¯t you? The same foul stench you noticed with that Elven noble.¡±


    I nodded instinctively, though Gwen wasn¡¯t there to see. I¡¯d told her before how this thing reeked to me¡ªsomething no one else seemed able to sense, not even Gwen herself. She¡¯d found that little quirk of mine endlessly fascinating. But, as usual, there was a catch. I didn¡¯t even know what the damned thing was called. Gwen, in her infinite wisdom, had refused to enlighten me, claiming it was for my own good. How generous.


    Her voice returned, a touch more sombre.


    ¡°Not the news I¡¯d hoped for, though I can¡¯t pretend to be shocked. If you¡¯ve picked up its scent and my hunch proves correct, then the wheels are already turning. Quietly, perhaps, but turning nonetheless.¡±


    I flicked the orb with my claw, watching it spin lazily in the air.


    ¡°Varkaigrad¡­¡± Gwen sighed, as if the very name carried a weight. ¡°They¡¯re holding a grand festival in a month¡¯s time¡ªan offering to their ancestral beasts. Spirit Hunt, think it¡¯s called. The timing, I¡¯m afraid, is suspiciously convenient. The place thar lacks the usual trappings. No sprawling temples, no throngs flocking to gilded shrines. Vraal¡¯Kor¡¯s isolation from such influences was supposed to be its shield.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Exactly my thought. How could this¡­ thing be worming its way into a region devoid of gods, priests, or altars? No churches, no congregations, no one even lighting a candle in devotion. It was something else entirely. Perhaps something worse.


    ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking. And yes¡ªeither It has sent its vessels to play some grotesque parody of a preacher, or it¡¯s found another way in. I haven¡¯t the faintest clue what sort of scheme it¡¯s spinning, but whatever it is, it¡¯s bound to turn nasty. If It¡¯s managed to dig its claws into Varkaigrad, it¡¯s sidestepping the usual routes. Subtle manipulation, perhaps. Or something altogether less predictable. Either way, you need to tread carefully. You¡¯ve seen firsthand the chaos its influence brings.¡±


    My gaze dropped to the orb, my claws curling instinctively. Just the once. That one time when it hollowed out the Elven noble, replacing him with something that wasn¡¯t him anymore. My instincts had howled in protest, their screams a relentless chorus of Intruder, intruder. And the way it destabilized the dungeon¡ªdraining its hues, its Prana, the very lifeblood of the place.


    But here in Varkaigrad? No dungeon to leech from, no steady flow of energy to sustain it. What, then, would it turn to for fuel? A shiver ran down my spine at the thought.


    Gwen¡¯s voice broke the silence, softer now but still edged with steel. ¡°It¡¯s testing the waters. Probing, pushing. But at this stage, it¡¯s still vulnerable¡ªif it hasn¡¯t made a big move yet. I know I promised not to pull you into my schemes, so consider this the plea of a friend. Only if you feel safe, Jade. Keep your head low, stay unseen, and gather what you can. If your safety is in question, leave. Abandon everything and run. Whatever you do, don¡¯t let it or its vessels catch wind of your existence. If it knows you¡¯re watching...¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll make me a priority,¡± I murmured, finishing her thought even though she couldn¡¯t hear me. Not that it made much difference.


    Let them think what they liked of me¡ªI wasn¡¯t a fool. I knew when to bolt. But how in the blazes did she expect me to sit on my scaly backside when the entire region might crumble to pieces while I idly twiddled my claws, knowing I could have done something? Maybe it was pure spite fueling my resolve. Spite against that wretched thing. Spite that refused to let it have the final say.


    ¡°Whatever your decision, as I¡¯ve always said, I¡¯ll respect it. No matter what.¡± Gwen¡¯s voice trailed off as the skeletal beast beside me let out a soft, mournful whine. My gaze snapped to it just as it extended a claw, a pendant dangling delicately from its bony grasp.


    ¡°A little safety net, courtesy of yours truly,¡± Gwen continued. ¡°Channel your mana into this, and my servant here will stay attuned to your presence, no matter where you are. The Astral Plane operates... differently. He¡¯ll find you in an instant if needed. Should you decide to investigate, focus on what It¡¯s using to spread its influence¡ªan object, an artifact, or even something living. Find the thread, but for the love of sanity, don¡¯t yank it too hard until you¡¯re prepared for what might unravel.¡±


    I exhaled slowly, my breath steadying as I took the pendant from the beast. Its claws lingered for a moment before retreating, creaking faintly as they folded back into place.


    ¡°And, little dragon,¡± Gwen added, her voice softening with a warmth that felt almost familial, ¡°don¡¯t let any of this cloud how you do things. The Wave will pass soon enough, and the dungeons will be ripe for delving once more. You¡¯re not far from your fifth evolution¡ªimpressive, really. Oh, and your alchemy education! I hear from my contacts that you¡¯ve left quite the mark on your teacher. Making a name for yourself, are we? Ah, I wish I could see it firsthand. Watch you brewing those little potions with your adorable claws. Truly, it must be a sight!¡±


    Gwen¡¯s sentimental streak was... something, to put it mildly.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± she continued, her tone dipping back into seriousness, ¡°stay safe, Jade. Don¡¯t set yourself ablaze trying to save the world. You¡¯re far more valuable than all of it put together.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I murmured, though the words were more for my benefit than hers.


    ¡°I hope the stars align so we meet again soon. Take care.¡±


    The orb dimmed, Gwen¡¯s voice fading into the ether as it floated limply down into my waiting claws. A faint creak from the beast drew my attention again¡ªit held out its claws expectantly. Ah, right.


    Carefully, I nestled the orb back into the skeletal beast¡¯s waiting claws. They clamped around it with a decisive click and a faint rattle of its teeth¡ªan oddly polite sort of acknowledgment, really, as if to say, "Cheers for that."


    Before I could withdraw, the light patter of familiar steps reached my ears. Belle shuffled in from the kitchen, balancing a tray on her back with the finesse of a circus performer on a tightrope. The tray bore three cups of tea, each meticulously arranged, steam curling lazily from their rims like morning mist.


    Just shy of the table, Belle paused, her tiny paws fussing over the crimson bowtie perpetually askew at her throat. With a triumphant squee! she righted it, perfection achieved, and set about her noble task.


    The first cup was placed before the skeletal beast with the solemnity of a butler presenting tea to a duke. Belle even gave a polite nod, as if expecting thanks. The creature responded with another soft rattle of its teeth, which Belle seemed to interpret as heartfelt gratitude. Undaunted, she turned to me, her sharp little claws sliding my cup into position with precision that would put the Queen¡¯s own staff to shame.


    Of course, the bowtie slipped askew again. With a huff, she nudged it back, offered me another quick squee!¡ª"Enjoy!"¡ªand scurried off to retrieve her own cup.


    I lingered for a moment, letting the soothing vapours waft into my nostrils. Ahh. It was peaceful, in its peculiar way. Just a seven-foot dragon girl with tentacles, a badger with a flair for service, and a colossal skeletal astral beast sipping tea in a rather cramped room. The sight of the great beast fiddling with the dainty cup was, frankly, hilarious, but I held back my chuckles out of respect. To its credit, it even managed a rattle of thanks toward Belle, who looked positively chuffed.


    When the tea was finished, Belle bustled back in, cloth in paw, to tidy up. Meanwhile, I settled at the table, penning yet another letter. The enchantments on the orb Gwen had sent seemed one way, so I opted for the good old-fashioned quill-and-parchment approach.


    The letter detailed my recent findings, along with progress in alchemy, breakthroughs I was close to, in shifting suppressed parts of myself to remain formidable without fully transforming¡ªtentacles, scales, claws and dimensional lamina neatly integrated into my base Drakkari form. I might have boasted a bit. Well, quite a lot, really. It wasn¡¯t every day one made such strides, and I was rather proud of it. Minimal input from Lotte, too¡ªthough, in fairness, she did guide me a bit. Only a bit.


    With a flourish of the pen, I wrapped up the letter, bid the skeletal beast farewell, and collapsed onto my bed. Time for some well-earned rest¡ªand a chat with Lotte, no doubt. She¡¯d give me an earful, especially after my dismal performance on her latest test. My tentacles twitched at the thought.


    Before surrendering to sleep, I quickly summoned my stat screen for one last glance.

 Chapter 99: An Unapologetic Sadist

    Name: Jade


    Level: 15


    Species: Wraithscale (Draconis) (IV)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 219


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 191


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 244


    </li>


    <li>


    Will: 186


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points (MP): 154/154


    </li>


    <li>


    Dark Mana Points (Wraith Heart): 30/30


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points (SP): 305/305


    </li>


    </ul>


    Abilities:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Mana Devourer


    </li>


    <li>


    Distortion Cloak


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Resonance Roar: Level 1 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Reinforced Scales: Level 2 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Advanced Flight: Level 3 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Rich Respiration: Level 4 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Breath of Shadows: Level 7 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Adaptive Grip: Level 3 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flame Jet: Level 3 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Advanced Mana Manipulation: Level 7 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Advanced Core Stabilization: Level 5 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Constrict: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Lightning Affinity: Level 4 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Dark Affinity: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Techniques (1/1):


    <ul>


    <li>


    Phantom Dragon Dance: Level 4 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes: Focusing Lenses, Peripheral Optimization (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws: Claw Flexibility, Razor-Edge Claws (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales: Colour Adaptation, Shock-Absorbent Scales (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings: Hollow Bones, Mana-Infused Fibers (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs: Joint Flexibility, Mana-Responsive Cartilage (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland: Mana Reservoir, Mana Conservation (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac: Stamina Surge Reservoir, Toxicity Neutralizer (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Conduit Vasculature: Micro-Mana Control, Mana Conduit Resilience (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Dimensional Lamina: Resonance-Stabilizing Membranes, Phase Microfilament Clusters (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Dimensional Convergence Tendrils: Reactive Tendrils, Refined Neural Pathways (III)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 37


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 76


    </li>


    </ul>


    It was almost laughable how far I''d come¡ªtwo months since first crossing paths with Gwen, and it felt like I''d lived through a whole saga. In that brief span, I¡¯d learned so much¡ªabout the world, about myself. And, oh, how reckless I¡¯d been. The thought had me chuckling. I¡¯d fancied myself an ¡°exotic ritual ingredient¡± once, what with being a manaless half-beast. But now? Now I was a dragon. Exotic? Pfft, I¡¯d gone full gourmet. No one would get a taste, though¡ªI''d see to that. The days of reckless dungeon dives were over for me.


    Not that I minded. I¡¯d found an entirely new buffet for hunting levels and morphogens¡ªthe 4th dimension. I licked my teeth at the thought. It was crawling with delectable critters, though every bite came with a side of danger. There was something sinister lingering around the city these days, keeping me on high alert. Not to mention, the beasts in that dimension had a... peculiar flair for combat. Still, if a ghostly monster fancied itself brave enough to try me, I¡¯d happily prove it wrong.


    For now, my attention turned to the glowing stats on my screen. Blimey, had I grown. My strength was absurdly high¡ªif I punched these walls, I¡¯d probably bring the whole place down. Tempting as it was, I¡¯d save that test for later. I could lug around far more weight now, and my durability? Through the roof. In both dragon and half-dragon form, I could take a beating and still be laughing. Shame those stats didn¡¯t fully translate to my suppressed drakkari form, but one can¡¯t have it all.


    At least my mental stats carried over without a hitch, and oh, were they glorious. Intelligence was a staggering 244¡ªimpressive, even for me. Was I smarter? Maybe. What it really meant was sharper thinking, faster problem-solving. With tentacles at my disposal, I could juggle five tasks at once, and everything just... clicked. My memory was razor-sharp, my instincts keener than ever. A proper upgrade.


    Then there was Will, a stat I¡¯d come to respect only after my first 4th-dimension encounter. Those horrors attacked the mind¡ªsuppression, possession, parasitic nonsense. Will let me fend off their meddling, resist fear magic, and stay in control. It also fine-tuned my magic control, a perk I deeply appreciated.


    And with high Will, mana recovery was a treat now. I gained a full point every 15 seconds, a huge leap from before. Throw in my upgraded Core Stabilization skill, and that time dropped to a mere 4 seconds. Smooth as silk. The upgrade also let me stabilize my mana mid-channeling, making me frighteningly efficient.


    Speaking of upgrades, I¡¯d polished off quite a few lately.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Some skills had crept up a notch, though none were flirting with their caps just yet¡ªthough a bit of effort might nudge a few closer. I did pick up a new one for efficient tentacle constriction. Handy, that. But the real meat of my progress lay in the mutations, which had taken quite the leap forward.


    Both Dimensional Lamina and Dimensional Convergence Tendrils got a double dose of upgrades, propelling them to Tier III. The first upgrade for Lamina was a practical delight: mana efficiency. I could stretch my time in the 4th dimension longer with less mana bleed and fewer tedious cooldowns, which felt like the mana equivalent of squeezing blood from a stone. The second upgrade added a dash of tactical flair.


    I held up a claw, letting a trickle of mana seep in. It vanished from view, an icy shiver rippling up my arm. Now I could phase parts of myself into the 4th dimension selectively¡ªideal for slipping past an incoming strike without committing to a full spectral retreat. All told, it was a sharper, wilier tool in my arsenal.


    As for the tendrils, they¡¯d grown into something truly nasty. The first upgrade gave them a new party trick: attuning to the 4th dimension¡¯s residual energy. Lotte reckoned it wasn¡¯t quite mana, but rather the glue that kept that plane from unraveling into chaos. By absorbing slivers of this energy, my tendrils became excellent disrupters of spells and mana flows¡ªlike a magical spanner in the works. They also gained a bit of muscle, making the Constrict skill truly lethal. Suffocation by spectral tentacle? Cheery thought.


    The second upgrade turned my tendrils into spellcasting conduits. With mana veins now threading through them, I could cast short, sharp spells directly from my tentacles. While the amount of mana veins in them didn¡¯t hold a candle to my claws, the ability to sling spells from a shadowy dimensional perch was too good to pass up.


    Lastly, my Wings and Legs received some serious reinforcement at tier 3. They could now channel raw mana, boosting both durability and offensive versatility. The wings, for example, could store lightning mana, which I could unleash as arcs of thunder on command, or dark mana for a smokescreen fit for a dramatic exit. As for the legs, channelling Lightning mana in them turned me into a streak of pure agility, while dark mana lent itself to shadowy, stealth-driven manoeuvres.


    In short, I¡¯d blossomed into quite the formidable beast¡ªsharper, stronger, and an absolute nightmare to pin down. I let out a little giggle. Oh, how I enjoyed perusing my stat screen. A delightful reminder of just how far I¡¯d clawed my way. But the road ahead still stretched long and winding. I wasn¡¯t there yet. Not by a long shot. If I truly wanted to be a free dragon one day, the sort who could saunter through broad daylight without so much as a care for prying eyes, I¡¯d need to be stronger. No, unstoppable. The kind of strength that turned the revelation of my dragon side into not a liability but a proclamation¡ªa banner reading: ¡°Tread carefully, or be turned to ash.¡±


    I shook my head, snorting softly. Wishful thinking? Perhaps. But one day... surely. My claws clenched tightly, as if to hold onto the dream.


    My reverie was interrupted as Belle padded onto the bed beside me. The little badger had evidently wrapped up her dishwashing duties. She chirped, leaning in for a well-deserved head scratch. Oh, she adored that, my clever little badger. Her rightful reward for being a good girl.


    She tilted her head up, letting out a curious, ¡°Squee?¡±


    Ah, yes. I¡¯d told Lotte about Belle, hadn¡¯t I? And Lotte, in her infinite wisdom, had declared Belle my first supplicant. I understood the term well enough, though its full significance remained murky¡ªmore instinctual than intellectual. There was this odd sense of protectiveness I felt over her. In return, I¡¯d confided to Belle about Lotte. After all, the only creatures privy to all my secrets were Lotte and Barn. Naturally, Belle wanted to meet her.


    It seemed impossible at first, but then I remembered Barn had once slipped into my dreamscape. Surely Belle could do the same? Lotte certainly thought so, suggesting a ritual that would allow them to meet. She seemed almost giddy about it, truth be told. Ah, I could hardly wait. Lotte had said she wanted to talk with Belle. Well, naturally!


    ¡°Soon!¡± I told Belle, who chirped in contentment.


    I had most of the ingredients for the ritual, barring a few elusive ones. Thankfully, I¡¯d put in a request with Vasilisa¡¯s network, and she¡¯d been only too happy to lend her resources. Ah, the perks of being connected to civilization¡ªand to people who wield some influence.


    According to Lotte, the ritual would formalize Belle¡¯s position as my supplicant. She¡¯d grow stronger as a result, which suited me just fine. Much as I adored her, my precious little badger wasn¡¯t exactly the sharpest fang in the maw. A power boost that gave her some bite of her own? Absolutely welcome.


    After a bit of back and forth with her, I finally settled in, closing my eyes.


    The waking world dissolved into mist, swirling and fracturing before reshaping itself into dreamland. First came the colours, then¡ªsnap! My eyes opened to the sight of my dragon form, sprawled on my back in an endless grassland with the sun warming my scales. Blissful.


    But there was no time for idling. With a lurch, I sprang to all fours and let loose a roar that rippled across the endless grasslands. Ahhh, roaring. Pure, unbridled bliss. It was thrilling in a way few things could match, especially given how the waking world denied me such indulgence. A pity, truly.


    ¡°Perhaps you ought to reserve that energy for something a touch more¡­ constructive,¡± came her voice, slipping into my mind like silk on scales.


    I grinned, a toothy, unabashed grin. ¡°Lotte!¡± I greeted.


    She lay lounging, as she so often did, her immense frame sprawled across the nearby hillside. Even from a distance, she dominated the landscape, her massive, black, draconic form blending effortlessly into the idyllic surroundings. Her eyes¡ªeach one larger than my entire body¡ªremained closed, her head tilted slightly as though she were humming along to some ancient, otherworldly melody.


    I winced, just a little. ¡°I, uh, tried to channel it elsewhere. Might¡¯ve slightly underestimated my opponent¡­¡±


    That was when she opened her eyes. Twin pools of slitted crimson, so vast they might hold small villages within. I¡¯d grown a fair bit myself, but standing before her was a constant reminder of how small I still was in comparison. One day, though. I¡¯d be as massive as her. No, bigger! Hmph.


    ¡°Let me guess¡ªa great deal happened.¡± Her voice in my head carried a rich amusement, but her eyes gleamed with curiosity.


    Oh, she was itching to hear what I¡¯d been up to, no doubt about that. I puffed up, wearing my smugness like a second set of scales. Of course, even when things didn¡¯t go entirely to plan, I always made the most of it.


    ¡°Wellllll,¡± I began, drawing the moment out, ¡°I gained information, for starters. Found out which parts of the city are touched by that thing¡¯s rot. A thread to follow. Might¡¯ve even made a decent impression on one of the local gangs. You know how it is¡ªnetworking opens channels of information. And I¡¯ve got another thread to tug on now.¡±


    I laid it all out for her as usual, detailing everything from my discoveries to Gwen¡¯s message¡ªa plea for help investigating the rot. Gwen could handle it herself, of course, but she was evidently tied up with whatever mysterious plans she was concocting in Lithrindel.


    Lotte listened as she always did, her massive form exuding calm amusement. When I finished, she shifted slightly, leaning closer¡ªso close I could see the intricate patterns of her scales, each one an artwork in itself. She brought her ever-present mug closer to me, steam curling lazily from its depths. Its smell was faintly herbal, tinged with the sweetness of a faraway land I¡¯d never been to.


    ¡°So,¡± she said, her voice in my head casual but probing, ¡°what have you decided?¡±


    I smirked, leaning back on my haunches. ¡°Oh, obviously I¡¯ll help her. Since you and Gwen are both so insistent on keeping me in the dark about what this ¡®thing¡¯ is, I might as well find out for myself!¡± My voice carried just the right hint of teasing.


    She arched a brow ridge. ¡°Joking, of course,¡± I added quickly. ¡°I¡¯ll keep to the shadows, collect information, and pass it along to Gwen.¡±


    Lotte nodded, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as if she were calculating the trajectory of every choice I¡¯d just laid bare. ¡°Passivity,¡± she remarked, ¡°was never going to suit you. Best to give that restless energy of yours an outlet.¡±


    I dipped my head in agreement, a firm nod to seal the plan. Naturally, sitting around twiddling my claws was never my style. Before I could add another word, however, the ground beneath me gave a deep, ominous rumble. My head snapped toward Lotte, my expression sourer than spoiled milk.


    ¡°Do we really need to do this every single day?¡±


    Her chuckle slithered into my mind, rich with amusement. ¡°It was you, little one, who chose this path. And I did warn you¡ªit would not be easy. To truly embody the essence of lightning¡¯s elusiveness, you¡¯ll need to give it your all.¡±


    The landscape around me twisted in response to her words. Massive towers of dark metal emerged from the earth, each one etched with runes that glowed faintly like watchful eyes. Their jagged peaks looked more like the blades of a colossal forest of swords, the kind that could cleave mountains as casually as I¡¯d swat a fly. Above, the sky churned with thunderclouds, heavy and volatile. Fog rolled in, thick as soup, carrying the faint rhythm of distant thunder, a low drumbeat promising havoc.


    Without a whisper or rustle, Lotte disappeared. She was maddeningly good at that. ¡°Good luck,¡± her warm voice drifted through the ether, just as the first arc of lightning struck.


    The scales along my body prickled as though charged with static. I barely managed to sidestep the sudden bolt, though it nicked me just enough to draw the faintest trickle of blood. A sharp wince escaped me¡ªpain here was a luxury, one that only existed because Lotte allowed it. And, oh, she could revoke that privilege any time she fancied.


    Before I could catch my breath, another bolt cut through the fog with merciless precision. This time, I dodged cleanly, my limbs coiling and springing with a dancer¡¯s grace.


    And so it began. This was just the beginning.


    Lotte, for all her wisdom, was an unapologetic sadist when it came to her so-called ¡®training.¡¯

 Chapter 100: The Concept

    I had no clue how long I¡¯d been dancing with death¡ªan hour? Two? Time had gone AWOL, lost somewhere between dodges, dives, and near-death experiences. My breath came in ragged gasps, blood smeared like war paint, and let¡¯s not even talk about the parts of me that now smelled distinctly... well-done. Just when I thought my misery might finally hit a plateau, Lotte decided to sprinkle in her signature flavor of cryptic riddles. How generous.


    Through the choking fog, two pinpricks of crimson light flickered, their glow full of smug menace. "Still blind, Jade?" her voice coiled around my mind like a vice, oozing that irritating mix of condescension and challenge. "The pathways, the elements¡ªdo you lack even a whisper of curiosity about their purpose, their dance?" Thunder clapped like a divine laugh track behind me. I ducked the deafening explosion, narrowly avoiding a bolt of lightning that still managed to sizzle through my shoulder. Lovely.


    If her riddles were supposed to be enlightening, they were about as helpful as an umbrella in a hurricane. And then things got worse. The crackling arcs of lightning started swirling, coalescing into a shape. Oh, great¡ªstage two. Already? A flicker of pride crossed my mind: at least I¡¯d taken fewer hits this time. Progress?


    The fog parted like a curtain to reveal a hulking, golden beast of storms¡ªa wolf, its fur bristling with electricity, a thunderous sword clamped in its jaws. It would¡¯ve been majestic if it weren¡¯t so murderously intent on turning me into ash. The moment our eyes met, it lunged. I barely managed a string of desperate dashes, each step burning precious stamina, as its charge carved molten trenches in the earth.


    "I MEAN," I bellowed between evasive maneuvers, "maybe we¡¯d get somewhere if we just talked this out over tea like civilized dragons instead of¡ªOH, HELL!" My diplomatic plea was rudely cut short by the wolf¡¯s tail flicking faster than my brain could register. Lightning flashed, and my survival instincts screamed a split-second too late. My heroic dive¡ªlet¡¯s call it that¡ªsaved most of me, but a sizzling arc clipped my leg. "BOLLOCKS!" I howled, clutching the fresh burn while limping into another frantic sprint.


    Even with Phantom Dragon Dance amplifying my senses and lightning mana turbocharging my speed, I was still a glorified walking scorch mark. At this rate, I wasn¡¯t dodging; I was just delaying the inevitable.


    The wolf came at me again, a living freight train of fury, its every step scorching the ground black. No time to think, no time to hesitate. I vaulted sideways, wings snapping out mid-leap to twist myself clear of those sparking jaws. It tore past me, its sheer momentum dragging it forward, but the damage was already done. This wasn¡¯t just a charge; it was a strategy. The thing was carving lightning-laced trenches into the ground, fencing me in and steadily shrinking my options.


    I hit the dirt hard, rolling to a stop with claws gouging into the earth for stability. My breath rasped in my throat as I tried to recalibrate. I couldn¡¯t outlast this thing¡ªstamina or no stamina. Sure, I had reserves for days thanks to my evolution and those handy Stamina Surge Reservoirs, but even I wasn¡¯t bottomless. Not after hours of this insanity.


    Every step bled stamina like a leaky bucket, and I¡¯d been hoarding it for this very moment. A direct fight? Ha. Hilarious. No, brute strength wasn¡¯t the answer here¡ªI had to outthink it.


    But thinking was hard when all I could do was zigzag like a panicked squirrel, praying to gods I¡¯d never even believed in. Dashing left, dashing right, rolling, dodging, spinning¡ªit was a manic ballet of survival, and I wasn¡¯t the star performer. A whole month of this nonsense, and Lotte hadn¡¯t so much as tossed me a clue. Nope, just her usual cryptic mantra: ¡°Learn from it.¡±


    Oh, yes. Learn. Learn how to not get fried into dragon toast.


    The battlefield didn¡¯t help either¡ªfoggy and oppressive, its only features were towering metallic obelisks etched with glowing runes, standing like colossal, judgmental elders. They hummed ominously, spitting arcs of lightning that turned the fog into a strobe-lit deathtrap. The wolf? round two. The obelisks? Probably just here to laugh at me. And Lotte? She was off somewhere, her voice buzzing in my skull like a smug mosquito.


    "Learn from it," she¡¯d said. But what, exactly, was I supposed to be learning? The zen of dodging lightning bolts? The secret to fighting an indestructible thunder puppy wielding a sword it couldn¡¯t even use properly? Or was this just some draconic take on dodgeball, with bonus existential riddles?


    I was managing¡ªbarely. Dodging, ducking, darting, thinking, all at once. But frustration clawed at me with every unanswered question. What was the point? What was the test? Because right now, all I¡¯d mastered was the fine art of not dying.


    A howl split the air. The wolf twisted, its massive paw glowing like molten steel. It swung wide. I flickered with Distortion Aura, phasing just enough to avoid a full hit¡ªalmost. Static arced along my side, searing my scales. I skidded back, heat radiating from my body as I sucked in shallow, panicked breaths. Too close.


    The fog shifted again, coiling into a draconic silhouette. Crimson pinpricks swirled within, mocking me. "I¡¯ve offered you no shortage of breadcrumbs, haven¡¯t I?" Lotte¡¯s voice echoed. "Yet here you linger, adrift in half-formed notions."


    "Yes," I snapped, trying not to snarl through my panting. "Yes, you have. And I¡¯m trying to make sense of them." But that was the rub, wasn¡¯t it? My mind worked in straight lines, in logic and science. Lightning wasn¡¯t magic to me¡ªit was tangible, grounded, a predictable force I could dissect and understand. But that mindset, according to Lotte, was my shackle. A chain tethering me to the mortal, keeping me blind to whatever truth she was dangling just out of reach.


    I shook the thought off, my eyes glued to the wolf. It crouched low, growling, the blade in its jaws now a searing star. A charge. No hesitation¡ªI sprang into motion, lightning mana surging through my legs, sharpening my speed. I barely cleared its swing, the air behind me erupting into a cascade of devastation as the sword¡¯s aftershock annihilated the ground I¡¯d stood on.


    "Perhaps another gentle push is warranted," Lotte mused, her foggy maw shifting as I hit the ground in a rough landing, claws digging deep. I stumbled but stayed upright. No time to breathe¡ªthe wolf followed instantly, leaping high, sword raised.


    I recognized the move. Midair lightning blast. Too fast to dodge. Scale Harden. My body locked up as I took the hit head-on. Pain lanced through me. Blinding. Brutal. But my high will stat kept my head from spinning. I was burning¡ªsearing pain radiating from every nerve¡ªbut I was nothing if not resilient. And the blast wasn¡¯t focused; energy rippled outward. I redirected. My tail lashed out, stamina surging into the strike. It hit the wolf square in the snout, making the beast stagger. Just for a moment. A breath.


    I didn¡¯t waste it.


    I darted in close, feinting right as the wolf recovered. The sword swung. I dipped left. Echo Claw Swipe. My claws burned on contact with its lightning-charged body, but the strike landed on its leg. The Echo followed, forcing the wolf to buckle for a heartbeat. Just enough to reposition. It all happened in a blur, a whirlwind of action condensed into seconds¡ªbarely enough time for Lotte to start her infuriating lesson.


    "These so-called pathways," she began, her tone syrupy, "paraded with such mortal pride¡ªhave you discerned their true nature? At higher ranks, do they not whisper peculiarities?"


    The wolf roared, shaking off the Echo and lunged again. I slipped past its claw, dodging arcs of sizzling death with pure instinct while my mind raced. Higher ranks. What did I know of them? Not much firsthand. The only time I¡¯d seen something close was Gwen¡ªwhen she annihilated that Lowgold intruder. Her path seemed spatial. Her obsession with Parda hinted strongly at that. But my readings had painted a broader picture.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Pathways, regardless of their element¡ªPath of the Flame Vixen, Path of the Infernal Knight, whatever grandiose title people slapped onto them¡ªfollowed a pattern. At higher levels, around the red core stage, they began to blur. The distinctions faded, merging into something unified. A concept. Singular. Overarching.


    The dots connected in my mind, constellations aligning.


    I felt as though I were circling the answer, yet the thread eluded me. Was I blind to something fundamental, something hidden beneath the surface, veiled in the fog of ignorance? Gwen had called this continent a backwater¡ªa place where knowledge and advancement lagged behind the rest of the world. But what was I failing to see?


    The fog¡¯s draconic maw rumbled with a chuckle, a sound that coiled through my thoughts like smoke infiltrating every crevice of my mind. More than a laugh; it was an accusation, a taunt, a dare.


    "Close, little dragon, but not yet there. Cast aside the veneer of basic elementalism. Tear through the surface. Decipher the essence. Perceive mana not as mere fodder for conjuration, but as a language, as a concept. Recognize your path for what it truly is, not a parade of spectacles, but a symphony of intent.¡±


    Another burst of lightning, claws crackling with the same fury, hurtled at me. I danced and swerved, every dodge a calculated response, yet something deep inside my mind was sharpening, crystallizing. There was more than this¡ªmore than just the elements, more than the science. What lay beyond it all? Was there a pulse beneath the pathways, a thread that bound them?


    Lightning. It was speed, precision, energy.


    But¡­ what had it been to me? When had I truly used it, and why? Memories stirred like restless spirits, fragments of my past weaving into a larger picture. I saw it: the first time I¡¯d wielded lightning. The moment. The context. The intent.


    It wasn¡¯t just power or agility I¡¯d sought. Lightning had been deliverance. A declaration of my beliefs. A weapon to impose my order on chaos.


    More memories struck like the very claws I dodged, each one hitting closer to the truth. The fog churned with Lotte¡¯s amusement as the as the wolf relentlessly pursued me, a storm alive with fury.


    I felt it now, close, so close. Every time I had called upon lightning, it had been more than a means to an end. It was an extension of my will, a force to disrupt chaos, to enforce my pride. My will was the storm.


    And then a word whispered itself into my mind, unbidden. It surged from somewhere deeper than conscious thought, resonating through my very being. My mana thrummed with the word¡¯s meaning, a tide of energy so pure it felt as though my cells themselves were singing.


    The wolf howled. Its fur crackled, the same lightning that could have killed me now dancing across its form. But this time, I did not move.


    I met its gaze.


    A thousand arcs of lightning flashed in my mind¡¯s eye.


    I didn¡¯t need to move.


    The word crystallised. Sharp. Absolute. The weight of the storm. The force of my will. Lightning was swift, precise, and uncompromising.


    It was Judgement.


    The moment the word solidified, something clicked inside me. My mana surged, wild and overflowing, as though a haze had lifted from my mind. The ground shattered as lightning surged from my core. The storm bent¡ªnot to fear, but to will.


    My will.


    The force to inscribe my will upon the world. To pass judgement. Unshaken and absolute. I had been a judge all along¡ªdeep in the dungeon, where I¡¯d faced those who sought its destruction for their selfish ends.


    The runes in my mind buzzed, new patterns carving themselves into existence. Knowledge rushed through me, not in an overwhelming torrent but in an exhilarating cascade. Mana coursed through my claws, threading instinctively into these new shapes.


    The wolf came, charging, its steps leaving destruction in its wake. But I didn¡¯t step aside. I didn¡¯t need to. Dodging wasn¡¯t the lesson. The lesson was to impose. To carve my will into the world, to issue my verdict.


    My throat thickened, not with fire¡¯s heat, but with something deeper¡ªsomething that resonated with the storm itself. The tiny bolts crackling over the wolf¡¯s body reached out to me, calling.


    ¡°DEFLECT!¡± I roared. Just as the wolf¡¯s charge slammed into me, those tiny bolts scattered its control. For a moment, I felt the reins slip into my hands, and with a thought, I willed it to veer. The wolf obeyed, its body twisting under my command.


    It staggered, its own body betraying it. Not for long¡ªbut long enough. It tumbled, crashing into a nearby monolith.


    The bolts still danced across its skin, eager, waiting. The more I focused, the more I saw¡ªits body, in its entirety, seemed to be woven from them.


    My throat thickened once more as strange runes churned behind me. I echoed, ¡°DISPERSE!¡±


    The bolts obeyed, scattering with glee. The wolf howled in agony as it shattered, pieces disintegrating into harmless sparks that fizzled around me.


    Fatigue hit me like a wave, but through it, my senses sharpened. Everything felt clearer, sharper than ever before.


    At last¡­ I understood.


    The moment the wolf crumpled, the fog unwound, curling away like fingers pulling back to reveal the truth of the space. At first, I had no earthly clue what I was standing in¡ªit was merely a frantic dodge of lightning bolts that seemed to materialise from nowhere while Lotte¡¯s taunts rang merrily in my ears. But then, for the first time, I truly saw. It wasn¡¯t just a haphazard storm of lightning and monoliths. No, this was no less than a courtroom.


    The towering black monoliths that stood like grim sentinels. Metallic surfaces carved with labyrinthine runes that pulsed with a faint red glow. Like jurors murmuring.


    At the far end, presiding over it all with an air of maddening amusement, sat Lotte¡¯s hulking frame in the judge¡¯s seat. Her voice, warm and pleased, slipped into my mind.


    ¡°Knew you¡¯d twig it eventually.¡±


    Meanwhile, I was less ¡®twigged¡¯ and more thoroughly tangled, my mind fighting to seize control of the rampaging lightning mana and the unnatural weariness that pressed down on me. It felt as though some unseen lever had been yanked without my consent. ¡°I haven¡¯t the foggiest what I¡¯ve just done!¡± I bellowed, lightning crackling and snarling around me like a feral beast. This was clearly riotous entertainment for Lotte, whose laughter rippled through my thoughts once again.


    ¡°You interpreted,¡± she said airily. ¡°No need to flap¡ªit¡¯ll settle soon enough. But this is your first authentic stride along the path, and for that, little hatchling, I commend you.¡±


    My head was now spinning like a weather vane in a gale, the lightning seemingly intent on setting up residence in my brain.


    "There exists a depth to mana far beyond the crude manipulations mortals brand as elementalism," Lotte pressed on. "Each element, at its heart, encapsulates a truth, a concept¡ªa fundamental axiom of existence. The pathways do not diverge; they converge, uniting at these principles. Fire¡ªConquest. Relentless. Sovereign. Water¡ªReflection. Fluidity. Transformation. Earth¡ªFoundation. Resilience. Permanence."


    She paused, either to let the words sink in or perhaps to revel in her own eloquence.


    ¡°And when an element is wielded in harmony with its underlying concept¡ªwell, you¡¯ve just seen the results, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    Something in that struck a chord. ¡°I¡­ I just gained new knowledge out of nowhere, Lotte. New runes. An entirely new spell! It felt just like when the System spoon-feeds me skills, muscle memories and all. But this¡­ this was the same sensation dialed up to eleven.¡±


    That earned a soft chuckle. ¡°The concepts these elements embody are more entwined with the fabric of the world and its progression to power than you¡¯d think. Perhaps it will all become clearer in time.¡±


    Brilliant. Back to her cryptic self. I took a deep breath, weary. Just when I thought I might wrangle something useful from her, she pulls back. Still, her words clung to me. I¡¯d never heard of elements embodying concepts like that before. Maybe it was a gap in local knowledge. If Lotte wouldn¡¯t spill, I¡¯d dig elsewhere. Gwen might have something enlightening to say about it.


    For now, though, I focused on taming the torrent of lightning mana surging through my body and mind. Little by little, I calmed the storm by centering myself on my core, using Core Stabilization to ground myself¡ªnot just for recovering mana, but to steady my very essence. Slowly, order returned.


    The courtroom around me dissolved like a bad memory, replaced by the familiar grasslands where Lotte and I had been sitting moments earlier. Lightning, the element embodying the concept of Judgment¡­ who¡¯d have guessed? And then there was the new spell.


    I instinctively knew its name: Thunder Verdict. The runes that formed it. They were¡­ intricate. Exquisitely complex. I couldn¡¯t imagine casting it in ten years, not even with the most diligent tutor. But its purpose was as clear as daylight. The spell was designed to pass judgment, to enforce my will. The implications of this new knowledge left my mind slightly reeling. I could control lightning, all of it, by delivering this verdict. I could impose dominion over its very form, its very body. And that, I realized, extended to any living thing, after all, they too were just a web of neurons, each firing like tiny bolts of lightning. To impose my judgment on those signals¡­


    Well, that was a revelation I wasn¡¯t sure I was ready for.


    Nor was I ready for what caught my eye next: the metal sapling. The same one that connected me to the System, a living representation of my growth. It had always been a curious thing¡ªblack, metallic, and seated at the edge of this endless grassland.


    But it had changed. What had once been a modest sprig with two leaves now bore five, each leaf twisting and writhing with flickering light that appeared and disappeared like mirages. And now¡­ there was lightning. The leaves crackled visibly, arcs of energy dancing across their metallic veins.


    ¡°What¡¯s happened to this thing?¡± I asked, narrowing my eyes. ¡°Wasn¡¯t it supposed to represent my growth, in System¡¯s terms?¡±


    ¡°It still does,¡± Lotte added. ¡°And do try not to fret over a few¡­ subtle modifications to your stat screen.¡±


    Huh?

 Interlude 3.1

    Vorak woke up, yet again, to the chaos of light mana going absolutely ballistic inside him. His eyes shot open, a string of curses tumbling from his lips like water from a busted dam. Tossing his blanket aside with the grace of a pissed-off troll, he dragged himself forward, his body jolting with every surge of unruly mana.


    Anyone from the Iron Pact who saw him like this would probably laugh their shiny helms off. ¡°That old bastard¡¯s got bats in his belfry,¡± they¡¯d say, mocking his over-the-top alarms. But, oh, the youth. So blissfully ignorant of the high-stakes tightrope walk that came with being the Warden of sealed artifacts. Those sniveling twits wouldn¡¯t last a day in his boots.


    These artifacts had been quiet for decades, so much so that the seals meant to lock them down had grown rustier than his knees on a cold morning. Well, mostly, he still tried his best to keep them in pristine conditions. Back in the day, the challenge was keeping people safe from these blasted trinkets. Now? It was the artifacts that needed protection¡ªfrom sticky-fingered thieves, no less. Oh, how the mighty times had fallen.


    Grumbling under his breath, Vorak shuffled through the dimly lit sleeping quarters, a space tucked underground like some miserable mole¡¯s burrow. The room smelled faintly of damp stone, the walls lined with worn runes and faintly glowing protection glyphs. Shadows flickered from a single enchanted lantern dangling on a chain.


    Despite being under the Iron Pact¡¯s jurisdiction¡ªVarkaigrad¡¯s oh-so-glorious enforcer organization¡ªthis little hideaway wasn¡¯t in their central base at the middle district. Nope. After thieves had cracked even the most advanced security systems and made off with a few artifacts, the Iron Pact had decided to shove this whole operation to the edge of the middle district, burying it underground like an embarrassing secret. Anti-divination wards, barrier enchantments, you name it¡ªthey had it. Enough to make ancestors squint. And yet, if his alarms were to be believed, some poor sod had managed to sniff this place out and break in.


    Vorak stalked to the weapons rack at the far end, fingers curling around a sturdy staff that had seen its fair share of skull-bashing. Whoever it was, they¡¯d better pray to the ancestors, because Vorak wasn¡¯t exactly brimming with holiday cheer tonight.


    ¡°Warden? That you, old man?¡±


    The voice made him snarl. Grabbing the staff must¡¯ve woken up the chamber¡¯s other occupant¡ªbecause these days, gods forbid the Iron Pact assign someone competent to guard priceless relics. No, instead, they handed the job to a student serving detention. Tsk.


    A bleary-eyed drakkari youth stumbled out of an adjoining room, rubbing the sleep from his face. His slitted eyes scanned the room until they landed on Vorak, standing by the weapons rack like a vengeful ghost.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare call me ¡®old man,¡¯ you scaly little turd!¡± Vorak barked, jabbing the staff in the kid¡¯s direction. ¡°It¡¯s sir warden to you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­¡± The brat grumbled, his voice thick with sleep. ¡°Isn¡¯t your shift over, sir warden?¡±


    ¡°Shift? My shift ends when I¡¯m in the grave, you insolent whelp,¡± Vorak snapped. ¡°Now shut up and stay here. Keep your eyes open in case something hostile slinks past the barriers.¡±


    The kid groaned but didn¡¯t argue, which Vorak begrudgingly appreciated. Not that it mattered. He didn¡¯t think it was anything alive, anyway. This place was too well-hidden for a flesh-and-blood idiot to stumble across. It was probably just some incorporeal pest sniffing around. The last time that happened¡ªwhat, eight months ago?¡ªit had been some ghostly leech drawn in by the stray energy leaking from the artifacts.


    Still, Vorak tightened his grip on the staff. If tonight¡¯s intruder wasn¡¯t some mindless specter, they were about to learn exactly why the Iron Pact kept a crotchety old bastard like him on duty.


    Only one way to be sure. After all, he was on the path of a divinator. Pulling on his mana reserves, Vorak formed glowing runes behind his head, their faint shimmer enough to make his hair stand on end. With a tap of his staff against the floor, he muttered under his breath:


    ¡°Something dangerous has broken into the artifacts chamber¡­


    Something dangerous has broken into the artifacts chamber¡­


    Something dangerous has broken into the artifacts chamber¡­¡±


    Each word laced the spell tighter as he funneled the spiritual energy coalescing behind him directly into his eyes. His pupils darkened like ink spilling into water, and his head snapped upward.


    The image hit him instantly: the artifacts chamber, iron doors looming like a pair of solemn sentinels. Every seal and enchantment along the frame glowed an angry red. The doors themselves were open¡ªjust enough for a sliver of air to slip through.


    The spell broke with a crack, and Vorak staggered back, sucking in a sharp breath as he clutched his staff. Normally, even at high yellow core, a divinator could only manage one decent spell at a time. But Vorak, being the stubborn old bastard he was, had cooked up his own custom trick, a two-headed spell. One part answered your question; the other offered you with a vision for context.


    His answer was ¡°False.¡± Whatever had tripped the alarm wasn¡¯t dangerous, yet. But that vision? Oh, that vision was a five-alarm disaster waiting to happen. The chamber doors were open. Wide enough to make his gut churn.


    ¡°Ancestors help me,¡± he muttered, already moving.


    The young drakkari shouted something as Vorak stormed past, but the old man waved him off with a curt ¡°Stay put!¡± He marched down the hallway, his staff clicking sharply against the stone.


    This place was supposed to be hidden, sealed tight against every nosy thief and ambitious divinator. Not just that, the security upstairs was top-notch. Vorak¡¯s job was the final line of defense. And now it looked like someone had pissed all over that line.


    He reached the dead-end wall at the corridor¡¯s far side and pressed his hand against the cold stone. Runes flickered to life beneath his palm, lighting up the dim hallway as tiles groaned and shifted aside. The hidden passage opened, revealing a wider, darker tunnel beyond.


    At the end of the hallway, the chamber loomed, its iron frame like the maw of some ancient beast, the red runes etched into it pulsing angrily. The door, however, was ajar.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    A fraction.


    That was all it took for Vorak to feel his gut tighten. A chill raced down his spine, and the wave of icy air pouring from the gap gnawed at his bones. His instincts, finely honed over years of handling cursed relics and unspeakable horrors he saw during divinations, screamed at him. Something was here. Lurking.


    And it sure as shit wasn¡¯t friendly.


    Spectre, maybe? It felt like one. Close, too close.


    Vorak wasted no time. His mind was a flurry of activity as he wove a mental fortitude barrier around his head with light mana. If there was a body-snatching wraith in the vicinity, he wasn¡¯t about to let it stroll in and start rearranging his brain like a cheap puzzle of sigils. At the same time, the spell in his staff flared to life, crackling with the promise of retribution.


    He crept closer, every sense on high alert. The door, slightly open, spilled crimson light that danced along the floor like spilled blood. His heart pounded harder when his fingers brushed the edge of the gap. He leaned in, just enough to inspect the frame¡ª


    And then the headache hit.


    It wasn¡¯t a dull ache or a sharp jab¡ªit was like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his skull. Vorak stumbled, the barrier around his mind snapping like a twig underfoot. Before he could recover, his eyes locked on the door, and what peeked through nearly stopped his heart.


    A hand¡ªif it could be called that¡ªclawed, shadowy, and grotesque, gripped the iron frame. Smoke poured from the gap. Thick. Cloying. Swirling like shredded cloaks. Then a head emerged, if such a malformed thing deserved the title. A bulbous mass of black flesh, its single crimson eye, slit like a viper¡¯s, stared directly at him.


    Vorak¡¯s blood turned to ice.


    What. The. Hell?


    His divination had been clear¡ªno major threats had breached the chamber. So why in all the ancestors¡¯ saggy beards was a high wraith crawling out of his artefacts chamber? Even looking at the damn thing made his head throb worse, and to his disgust, the flesh on his hand twisted, warping into a single crimson eye that mirrored the creature¡¯s as its essence started taking root in his head. He cursed loudly.


    But Vorak was no novice. He was a Light Pathway walker, and this wraith had made one critical error¡ªit had picked the wrong old bastard to mess with.


    Before it could slither through the door, Vorak unleashed the spell in his staff. A burst of concentrated light mana struck the wraith directly in its glowing eye. The thing screeched, a high, keening wail that made Vorak¡¯s teeth ache. He didn¡¯t pause, recasting his mental barrier, this time with three layers. No chances, no mercy.


    The wraith twisted in the air, its form flickering, retreating into the safety of incorporeality. But Vorak wasn¡¯t having it. His staff slammed into the ground, light mana rippling out in a wave as he roared:


    ¡°Pierce the curtain!¡±


    The spell yanked the wraith out of its intangible refuge, dragging it screaming back into the corporeal world. Its shadowy form writhed, trying to escape, but Vorak was already on it.


    ¡°Light Bolt!¡±


    A beam of searing mana slammed into the creature.


    ¡°Light Bolt!¡±


    Another.


    And another.


    And another.


    Each bolt struck true, exploding against the wraith like miniature suns, leaving no room for retaliation. It screeched, it twisted, it ran¡ªbut Vorak wasn¡¯t about to let this slippery bastard slink off. His bolts chased it relentlessly, tearing into its form until, at last, its struggles ceased.


    The wraith dissolved into ether, its high-pitched cries fading into silence.


    Vorak leaned against his staff, panting. His head throbbed like a drum, and his mana reserves felt like they¡¯d been wrung dry. Overwhelming the enemy was the key with creatures like this¡ªthey adapted too quickly for prolonged fights. Still, being a high yellow core only got you so far when combat wasn¡¯t your pathway¡¯s primary focus.


    But that was a problem for another day.


    Vorak stepped cautiously toward the iron-framed door, his sharp eyes sweeping over the intricate sigils etched across its surface. The runes still glowed steadily, their patterns unbroken, the protective seals intact. No sign of tampering.


    So how in the abyss had the door opened?


    His brow furrowed as he examined the faint sliver of crimson light spilling through the gap. Was it possible the alarms had only reacted to the wraith? A coincidence, perhaps?


    Still, something didn¡¯t sit right.


    Vorak¡¯s gaze lingered on the chamber¡¯s entrance, his instincts urging him to step inside and confirm the state of the artefacts for himself. Yet, just as his foot inched forward, a thought froze him in place.


    The divination.


    His first question had been simple, precise: Has something dangerous broken into the artefact chamber? And the answer had been false.


    His gut twisted as he slowly backed away from the door.


    The artefact seals couldn¡¯t fail on their own. It was impossible¡ªor so he told himself. Decades of dormancy, of painstaking care to keep these cursed relics inert, couldn¡¯t just unravel without cause. But the nagging thought persisted, clawing at the edges of his mind.


    Was it possible?


    ¡°No,¡± Vorak muttered, shaking his head. ¡°Impossible.¡±


    Yet, he couldn¡¯t ignore the itch. As a diviner, he knew better than most¡ªsometimes the questions you didn¡¯t ask were the most damning.


    Planting his staff firmly on the ground, he exhaled and let mana flow. Runes swirled to life behind his head, glowing in rhythmic patterns as his mind reached into the threads of spirituality.


    This time, he changed the question.


    ¡°Has something dangerous broken out of the artefact chamber?¡±


    The words echoed in his mind. The inquiry pulsed through the layers of reality.


    ¡°Has something dangerous broken out of the artefact chamber?¡±


    ¡°Has something dangerous broken out of the artefact chamber?¡±


    His pupils darkened, the runes flaring to a blinding brilliance before his vision snapped to another place.


    A room.


    Messy. Chaotic. Notes and books strewn across the floor, the kind of disarray he associated with a student¡¯s quarters. Seated at a desk, her silver hair catching the dim light, a young Drakkari girl poured over her studies, oblivious to the faint chill that lingered in the air.


    On the window sill, it waited.


    A black-and-white doll, stitched together in crude mockery of life, stared into the room with beady eyes. Malice radiated from its from as it stared at young girl.


    Then its gaze snapped upward.


    Straight at him.


    The spell shattered violently, flinging Vorak backward into the far wall. Pain exploded across his skull as blood trickled from his eyes, his mind reeling from the backlash. Divination always carried risks¡ªpeering too far, too deeply, often came at a cost.


    But Vorak was no novice.


    He gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright as he downed a mental recovery potion, the alchemical blend cooling the shattered fragments of his psyche. Relief washed over him as his thoughts coalesced once more.


    And with them came the answer.


    True.


    Something dangerous had broken free.


    His breath came in shallow gasps as realization dawned. It wasn¡¯t just any artefact. The Pravodov Family Doll. One of the very few grade-3 cursed artefacts sealed within the chamber. And it had awakened. On its own.


    "Damn it all," Vorak muttered, steadying himself with a quick healing spell. The Puppet''s malice still clung to his thoughts, its beady, soulless eyes burned into his memory. What in the depths was happening in Varkaigrad? First, people started shifting unnaturally. Then young beastkin children began vanishing. An unexpected monster Wave struck. And now, a sealed artifact had broken free, waltzing out of its containment as if the wards meant nothing.


    There was no time to lose.


    Vorak bolted from the chamber, his staff sparking with light mana as he half-ran, half-staggered through the hallway. This wasn¡¯t just about retrieval¡ªit was containment. The Doll wasn¡¯t just dangerous; it was predatory.


    And worse, it had already marked a target.


    The image of the silver-haired Drakkari girl from his vision flashed in his mind. Vorak could only hope she was still alive.

 Chapter 101: Growing Paranoia

    The instant I woke up, it felt like my entire body was ablaze. Not the comforting warmth of a hearth¡ªthis was the kind of burning that seared from the inside out. Something within me had ignited, cells flaring to life and ricocheting around like restless fireflies. The inferno¡¯s epicenter was unmistakable: my core. The one thing all three of my forms had in common. My monster core.


    Something had definitely gone sideways¡ªor maybe upward¡ªwhile I was in my dream with Lotte. Even Belle was flitting around my head, chirping nervously. I wanted to reassure her, but every time I tried, the molten energy tearing through me laughed in my face. I couldn¡¯t move, couldn¡¯t pry my eyes open. My body was locked in place, but my awareness stayed stubbornly intact, thanks to Air Sense feeding me a constant trickle of environmental details.


    There was a full-blown hurricane raging in my chest. Something was digging in¡ªno, embedding itself¡ªlike it was carving out a permanent residence.


    So there I lay, paralyzed and simmering in my own personal hell, clinging to the slim hope that this torment would have the decency to wrap up soon. And then, as if the universe decided I¡¯d suffered enough, it did. My first breath after the chaos was so forceful it could¡¯ve knocked a house of cards across the room.


    Belle darted back to me, her worry palpable. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I croaked, though my voice was far less convincing than the rivers of sweat pouring off me. Speaking of sweat¡ªI was soaked, not just in that salty sheen but something else entirely. A thick, tar-like muck clung to my skin, reeking of impurity. My body had just gone through some sort of spring cleaning, but instead of a lemon-fresh finish, I got hit with the stench of raw death. Lovely.


    It was a phenomenon I hadn¡¯t experienced firsthand before. My growth process wasn¡¯t exactly textbook, but I wasn¡¯t ignorant to the usual signs. When someone¡¯s core advances in color, their body tends to purge itself of impurities, leaving them fresher, stronger¡ªbasically, like a newly polished blade. Except, oh sweet Thalador, the smell. It was enough to make me reconsider having a nose.


    I should¡¯ve stood up immediately, if not to escape the stench, then to survey the damage. But dread rooted me in place¡ªthe dread of seeing what horrors had befallen my poor sheets. Before I could decide whether to face the carnage, my attention snapped to the string of notifications now blazing across my vision.


    [Alignment Evaluation Complete.]


    [Conditions Met! Alignment Assigned!]


    [Alignment: Judgment (Lightning)]


    [Alignment Bonuses Unlocked:]


    <ul>


    <li>


    Lightning-based spells enhanced by 25%.


    </li>


    <li>


    Additional effects unlocked for Lightning Affinity.


    </li>


    <li>


    Judgment activities accumulate bonus experience.


    </li>


    </ul>


    [Alignment activities detected! Experience points acquired!]


    [Level increased: 15 ¡ú 16.]


    [Strength +6, Durability +3, Intelligence +6, Willpower +3.]


    [Level increased: 16 ¡ú 17.]


    [Strength +6, Durability +3, Intelligence +6, Willpower +3.]


    [Level increased: 17 ¡ú 18.]


    [Strength +6, Durability +3, Intelligence +6, Willpower +3.]


    Holy Thalador! While the shiny new bonus was great and all, was I staring at an entirely new method of leveling up? A second track? My excitement spiked as I immediately summoned my stat screen.


    Name: Jade


    Level: 18


    Species: Wraithscale (Draconis) (IV)


    Alignment: Judgement (Lightning)


    Attributes:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Strength: 237


    </li>


    <li>


    Durability: 200


    </li>


    <li>


    Intelligence: 262


    </li>


    <li>


    Willpower: 195


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Points (MP): 154/154


    </li>


    <li>


    Dark Mana Points (Wraith Heart): 30/30


    </li>


    <li>


    Stamina Points (SP): 311/311


    </li>


    </ul>


    Abilities:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Mana Devourer


    </li>


    <li>


    Distortion Cloak


    </li>


    </ul>


    Alignment Abilities (1/4):


    <ul>


    <li>


    Thunder Verdict


    </li>


    </ul>


    Species Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Resonance Roar: Level 1 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Reinforced Scales: Level 2 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Advanced Flight: Level 3 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Rich Respiration: Level 4 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Breath of Shadows: Level 7 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Adaptive Grip: Level 3 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Flame Jet: Level 3 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Advanced Mana Manipulation: Level 7 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Advanced Core Stabilization: Level 5 (II)


    </li>


    <li>


    Constrict: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Exclusive Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Transformation: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    <li>


    Lightning Affinity: Level 4 (I)You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    </li>


    <li>


    Dark Affinity: Level 2 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Techniques (1/1):


    <ul>


    <li>


    Phantom Dragon Dance: Level 4 (I)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Mutations:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Eyes: Focusing Lenses, Peripheral Optimization (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Claws: Claw Flexibility, Razor-Edge Claws (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Scales: Colour Adaptation, Shock-Absorbent Scales (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Wings: Hollow Bones, Mana-Infused Fibers (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Legs: Joint Flexibility, Mana-Responsive Cartilage (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Fire Gland: Mana Reservoir, Mana Conservation (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Macro-Trophic Sac: Stamina Surge Reservoir, Toxicity Neutralizer (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Mana Conduit Vasculature: Micro-Mana Control, Mana Conduit Resilience (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Dimensional Lamina: Resonance-Stabilizing Membranes, Phase Microfilament Clusters (III)


    </li>


    <li>


    Dimensional Convergence Tendrils: Reactive Tendrils, Refined Neural Pathways (III)


    </li>


    </ul>


    Resources:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Skill Points: 37


    </li>


    <li>


    Morphogens: 76


    </li>


    </ul>


    My gaze darted across the familiar layout, scanning for the anomaly. Hmm. Aside from the Alignment addition and a shiny new section titled Alignment Skills, nothing else seemed obviously out of place. Thunder Verdict was already there, clear as day¡ªa spell I¡¯d literally felt etching itself into my skull earlier. But now, a gnawing thought clawed at me. I closed my eyes and focused inward, turning my attention to the volatile mana storm that had been thrashing inside me mere moments ago. The sensation of something carving into my core hadn¡¯t just been some fever dream.


    I¡¯ve always been aware of my core¡ªnot in a visual sense, but instinctively. It¡¯s like the pulse of your heart¡ªif you could actually feel its every beat vibrating in your chest. Okay, maybe not the sharpest analogy, but you get the idea. My mana was what tethered me to it, always has been. It¡¯s how I knew its form: a jagged, asymmetric black crystal lodged in my chest. But now?


    Now, it was different.


    The black had been replaced with an electric, crackling yellow, a hue so vibrant it almost felt alive. And it wasn¡¯t just the color that had changed. As I probed it with my mana, I could feel intricate engravings etched onto its surface. Tiny, impossibly detailed markings¡ªlike a microscopic spell circle that looped endlessly. The sheer number of runes felt almost overwhelming, especially considering how small the space they occupied was. Yet, as my mind tried to decode the patterns, recognition struck.


    The runes mirrored Thunder Verdict. The exact spell that had just nested itself in my mind was now physically etched into my core.


    But why? Why the hell was this thing carved into my very essence? The question lingered, but answers hovered frustratingly out of reach. A few theories sprang to mind, but testing them would have to wait. First, I had a far more immediate concern: the tar-like muck clinging to me, reeking like something that crawled out of the abyss and shat¡ªtwice¡ªon my precious sheets.


    Oh, Thalador, the smell!


    Grimacing, I peeled off the offending mess with the help of Belle, who, to my horror, was not pleased. Her chirps of indignation were sharper than her claws. Extra biscuits would be required to smooth things over. And as if my humiliation wasn¡¯t already at peak capacity, the sticky black sludge had seeped into the lower mattress. Fantastic.


    I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled a long, weary sigh. This was going to be one of those days.


    ***


    I wrenched open the tiny window above my bed, welcoming a gust of brisk morning air in a doomed attempt to battle the clinging stench of death and tar in my dorm room. It didn¡¯t do much, but at least I could pretend it helped while Belle squawked her indignation like the world''s tiniest, angriest critic.


    ¡°Yes, I know it stinks,¡± I snapped, wrestling the sheets¡ªruined beyond salvation¡ªinto a laundry sack that was, frankly, one insult away from disintegrating. The black stains seemed to glare back at me as if daring the laundress to complain. She would, of course. She always did, and I didn¡¯t blame her. Alchemical mishaps had left me with a reputation, though I suspected the smell didn¡¯t help smooth things over. ¡°I didn''t exactly plan this explosion of filth, you know.¡±


    Belle let out a sharp, judgmental squee, pointing her claws at me like an outraged magistrate. She hated when my experiments went sideways, mostly because it meant she¡¯d have to dig out her miniature cleaning cloth. Watching her wield that thing was hilarious¡ªbut I wisely kept my laughter internal.


    ¡°I hear you,¡± I sighed, shaking my head. ¡°And I would learn cleaning spells, but who has the time?¡± Procrastination was my oldest, dearest frenemy.


    Belle scurried off and returned with her tiny cloth, chirping pointedly as if to remind me of my inadequacies. ¡°Yeah, yeah, you¡¯re a hero. If you¡¯re gonna help, then help. Otherwise, save the sass for someone who cares.¡±


    I grabbed a fresh set of clothes from the wardrobe. First priority: de-stinkify myself.


    As I strapped on my bracer, a flicker of mana pulsed through me. My draconic features melted away¡ªtentacles shrinking, talons softening into dainty fingers, claws vanishing into human feet. Only my horns stubbornly remained, because of course they did.


    The hallway outside was mercifully deserted, still steeped in the pre-dawn quiet. Most of the other apprentices wouldn¡¯t stir for another hour, giving me precious time to avoid awkward encounters and the inevitable barrage of questions. Belle, still stewing in her indignation, decided to tag along, chirping something about scouting ahead.


    ¡°Oh, sure, Scoutmaster Belle,¡± I muttered. ¡°Make sure no one witnesses my walk of shame.¡± Not that I needed her intel¡ªAir Sense was already feeding me a steady stream of information. Still, I let her have her moment.


    The bathhouse wasn¡¯t far, but the sack in my arms betrayed me with faint black drips trailing in my wake. Thalador take me. I groaned internally. Another problem for future me.


    Belle darted ahead and peeked around the corner before chirping her all-clear. ¡°Squee!¡±


    ¡°Good work, General,¡± I whispered, slipping inside like a thief in the night.


    The bathhouse was a temple of tranquility, its stone walls echoing with the soft trickle of running water. Wooden benches lined the edges, and tiled pools of steaming water beckoned me from across the room. If there was one thing civilization got right, it was bathhouses¡ªespecially ones enchanted to keep the water warm, purify the air, and a dozen other delightful conveniences I couldn¡¯t name but thoroughly appreciated.


    I dumped the sack in a corner and shed my tunic faster than you could say ¡°alchemy disaster.¡± With a triumphant little yip, I cannonballed into the nearest pool, sending a wave sloshing over the sides. Belle¡¯s frantic chirping echoed behind me.


    ¡°SQUEE!¡±


    ¡°Oh, relax! It¡¯s fun. You should try it!¡±


    To my surprise, she hesitated only briefly before taking the plunge herself. I grinned in approval. She was learning from the best, after all.


    The water was bliss. Warmth seeped into my chilled bones as the filth began to dissolve, swirling away in murky tendrils. Belle paddled around gleefully, her earlier outrage forgotten.


    ¡°You know,¡± I said, scrubbing at a stubborn patch of ichor on my arm, ¡°if you really wanted to be helpful, you could grab me a towel.¡±


    Belle froze, her beady eyes narrowing in betrayal. Then, with dramatic flair, she turned her back on me and floated away.


    ¡°Figures,¡± I muttered, sinking deeper into the water.


    ***


    After flipping the mattress upside down¡ªbecause, by Thalador, what else could I do with the poor thing?¡ªI decided it might just be time to accept defeat and petition for a new one.


    The early morning darkness was still thick, made deeper by the fresh layer of snow outside. I adjusted the notebook on my desk, the faint glow of my mana-lamp barely illuminating my scribbles. Belle perched on the edge of the table, watching me with that expectant, judge-y stare of hers.


    I had work to do. Specifically, I needed to test a theory about Thunder Verdict. The spell wasn¡¯t exactly beginner-friendly¡ªit involved manipulating neuron charges in a way that could, theoretically, make someone¡¯s limbs jerk uncontrollably. A flick of their hand here, a stumble of their legs there. The concept on paper was elegant. The execution? I had no clue yet.


    Which is where Belle came in.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that,¡± I muttered. ¡°You¡¯re my most reliable test subject.¡±


    She chirped in protest but didn¡¯t move. That was as good as consent, right?


    I was just about to focus my mana when a yawn crept out of my mouth, slow and unexpected.


    Wait, what?


    My eyes blinked heavily, and I rubbed them with the back of my hand. Sleepy? But why? A faint unease stirred in my gut. Sure, it wasn¡¯t overwhelming¡ªjust an annoying pull at the edges of my awareness¡ªbut it shouldn¡¯t have been there at all.


    I¡¯d just slept a few hours ago. And ever since I¡¯d taken on this draconic form, my need for sleep had practically evaporated. Unless I was mentally overclocking myself, I could go a week without batting an eye.


    But now? Now, there was this¡­wrongness.


    My gaze snapped toward the window, instincts on high alert. The curtains swayed faintly from the cold air outside, their motion far too ordinary for my growing paranoia.


    Was I overthinking this? Maybe whatever happened to my core had drained my mental reserves, making me more tired than usual? Still, the unease didn¡¯t fade.


    I shook my head, pushing the creeping discomfort aside. Whether I was overreacting or not, I wasn¡¯t about to curl up and give in. No way. Not when there was work to be done.


    Focus.


    I returned to my notes, summoning the intricate details of Thunder Verdict from the depths of my mind. Whatever this weird fatigue was, it could wait. Right now, it was time to experiment.

 Chapter 102: Out Cold

    --


    Report Archive: The Pravodov Family Doll


    Report No. 371


    Subject: The Pravodov Family Doll


    Acquisition Date: [REDACTED]


    Handling Organization: Iron Pact, Artefacts Division


    Status: Active, sealed within Sublevel 3 Secure Seal, Cryo Seal. Room 42-B.


    Attribution: Recovered from the Pravodov Estate, Sea Fang Sect, following the destruction of the estate during Incident [Scroll #47-AE].


    --


    ¡°Huh,¡± Sergiy mused, squinting at the faded ink. ¡°Wasn¡¯t the Sea Fang Sect one of the old ruling families in Varkaigrad? Real blue-bloods, right, Old Man¡ªuh, I mean, Warden?¡± He raised his voice to carry over the howl of wind, cheeks prickling from the chill.


    Beneath them, the city sprawled in soft gray and white, dusted with last night¡¯s snow. His scales, still small but spreading over his arms and neck, glinted faintly in the early morning light. Good, he thought. Resilient scales were the hallmark of a drakkri worthy of their lineage, though the real prize was getting under Vorak¡¯s skin.


    Old Vorak twisted on his perch at the head of the carpet, silver beard bristling like an angry frostbeast. His thick fingers clenched the reigns, knuckles pale against the woven leather. ¡°Boy, what in the frozen hell are you flapping on about now?¡± His gaze locked onto the fluttering pages in Sergiy¡¯s hand.


    ¡°What are you doing with those?¡± he growled.


    Sergiy blinked innocently, though little tail flicked behind him like a mischievous cat¡¯s. ¡°What, this? Relax, Old Man. It¡¯s just some dusty reports. Nothing dangerous. Definitely nothing cursed¡ªwell, probably.¡±


    ¡°Probably?¡± Vorak¡¯s bark could¡¯ve scared a lesser beast. ¡°Didn¡¯t I explicitly tell you not to touch anything in that box?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°But?¡± The carpet wobbled under the weight of his outrage as Vorak twisted further, veins bulging under his scaled temple.


    ¡°Okay, okay!¡± Sergiy raised his hands in mock surrender, though one paper conveniently folded itself against his wrist. ¡°I¡¯m putting them back.¡± He shuffled towards the wooden crate wedged at the carpet¡¯s edge, its iron-reinforced lid yawning open just enough to reveal a chaotic pile of scrolls. He knew the box wasn¡¯t dangerous. If old man Vorak really wanted someone like Sergiy to keep his claws off it, the thing would¡¯ve been sealed tighter with spells Sergiy couldn¡¯t undo in his wildest dreams. The fact it opened so easily? Oh, Vorak was definitely pissed, but harmlessly so. Probably.


    ¡°See?¡± Sergiy chirped as he slid the papers back into the crate with all the exaggerated care of someone handling priceless heirlooms. ¡°Safe and sound. No harm done.¡±


    Vorak¡¯s eyes narrowed, his suspicious gaze sweeping over Sergiy¡¯s hands like a hawk sizing up a particularly clever rodent.


    Sergiy responded with a wide, toothy grin, wiggling his fingers in an exaggerated flourish. ¡°All clear. Happy now?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get cute with me, pup,¡± Vorak muttered, grumbling as he turned back to his reins of carpet. The old man¡¯s shoulders were as tense as the reins he yanked, but his attention was elsewhere now.


    The instant Vorak¡¯s back turned, Sergiy slipped a few folded sheets from his wrist and tucked them behind his belt with practiced ease. As the carpet leveled out mid-flight, he plopped down cross-legged, casually easing the stolen papers into his lap. His slitted eyes flitted over the text, lips quirking with a barely contained grin as the words came into focus.


    Something had escaped that glorified underground basement, and Sergiy wanted to know exactly what. Sure, he¡¯d been down there a few times¡ªnot because he was supposed to, but because the idea of sealed cursed artifacts intrigued him. Everyone else found the place unbearable, not because it was dangerous, but because it was skull-crushingly boring. Who¡¯d volunteer for extra classes about seals on artifacts supposedly dormant for decades? Apparently, Sergiy would.


    Now, if one of those bad babies was actually awake and making a run for it? Oh, hell yes, he needed details. Vorak wasn¡¯t exactly generous with his knowledge, and opportunities like this didn¡¯t come knocking often. Once they hit Iron Pact¡¯s main headquarters in the middle district, he could kiss this chance goodbye.


    His grin widened as his eyes scanned the scrawled notes.


    ¡°Recovered from Sea Fang,¡± he murmured, his voice nearly lost to the wind whipping around them. ¡°Sublevel 3¡­ Cryo Seal¡­ What¡¯s so special about this doll?¡±


    ¡°Boy, if I catch you¡ª¡±


    Sergiy shot upright like a startled cat, the papers vanishing behind his back faster than smoke in a gale. ¡°Not a thing, Old Man!¡± he called out, face painted with an innocent smile that wouldn¡¯t fool a blind mole.


    Vorak¡¯s glare burned hot enough to singe hair, lingering just long enough to make Sergiy squirm. Finally, the old man turned away, muttering darkly about disobedient youngsters and stress-induced baldness.


    Biting his lip to hold back laughter, Sergiy wasted no time flipping to the next page.


    ---


    Appearance: A porcelain doll approximately 18 inches tall, dressed in a delicate blue gown embroidered with water lily motifs. The doll¡¯s glass eyes appear to shift in hue between pale green and pitch black under varying light conditions. Notable signs of wear include hairline cracks across its face and subtle discoloration of the gown. Despite cryo-sealed containment, residual moisture inexplicably accumulates on the fabric when the artifact is left undisturbed.


    Known Properties: Semi-conscious and demonstrably hostile. The artifact displays water mana-aligned properties, including the ability to slightly manipulate ambient moisture within a localized radius. The primary anomalous effect is its ability to "mark" a target (designation: "Host Candidate") through physical contact or prolonged proximity (¡Ý3 minutes at <4 meter range). Marking manifests as a circular discoloration resembling inkblots on the subject''s wrist. Subjects do not immediately notice this mark. It vanishes within 12 hours.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ---


    Fascinating. Sergiy had always known the Enforcers dabbled in cursed artifacts when these things were active. But seeing it in black-and-white, laid bare in old reports, was something else. Hidden among the records was a glimpse of an entire division once dedicated to studying these eerie relics. Again, that was back when these relics were active¡ªnow, all that remained was a single old man holed up at the edge of the district, buried deep underground, guarding these dead ones like a crypt keeper.


    At least the curriculum at Iron Pact still let students dabble in Seals, as Sergiy had done. But when it came to cursed artifacts, the knowledge was always frustratingly... thin. It gnawed at him, an itch he couldn¡¯t quite scratch. He wanted more. Needed more. So much so that he¡¯d deliberately landed himself in detention, just for the excuse to visit Old Man Vorak. The plan? Learn whatever secrets the geezer wasn¡¯t keen on sharing outright. Sergiy smirked at the thought. Sometimes, you had to get clever to get ahead.


    Shaking his head, he forced his attention back to the papers in his hand. Some juicy tidbits here. Flipping the page, he found the real meat:


    ---


    Anomalous Effects


    Stage 1: Sleep Induction


    Within first few minutes of marking, the host candidate reports escalating fatigue and recurring auditory hallucinations (described as the sound of dripping water or faint whispering). Symptoms culminate in the subject falling into a deep sleep. Sleep duration averages 6-10 hours, irrespective of environmental stimuli.


    Stage 2: Puppeteering Control


    Upon waking, the subject demonstrates loss of motor autonomy for up to a whole day. During this period, motor control appears to be entirely overridden by the doll. This control persists only if the host remains within 10 meters of the artifact. Marked individuals exhibit a compulsion to keep the doll within this range, often carrying it with them.


    Behavioral Observations (Doll-Controlled Subjects): While under the doll¡¯s influence, hosts consistently attempt to infiltrate the consortium at Fang¡¯s Ascent, particularly targeting the wards room where enchanted artifacts are stored, including those maintaining critical barriers. The compulsion ceases if the host body is incapacitated or the objective is failed. Repeated infiltration attempts suggest the doll is drawn to a unique energy source within the warded room, though insufficient data prevents definitive conclusions regarding its motivation.


    Unique Host Requirement: The artifact¡¯s marking ability specifically affects individuals with a high affinity for lightning-aligned mana, as determined through standard magical resonance testing. Non-lightning-aligned individuals experience only mild nausea during exposure and are not susceptible to marking. The reason for this affinity-based limitation remains unknown.


    ---


    Huh. This doll wasn¡¯t just creepy, it was outright terrifying. The ability to mark someone and snatch their autonomy was potent, sure, but it was the limitations that made it useful. Sergiy couldn¡¯t help but imagine scenarios: if some outlaw slinging lightning magic got hit with this thing? Game over. It could turn the tides of a battle in seconds.


    But what about restrictions? Sergiy scratched his chin. Surely, it couldn¡¯t override someone with a high-tier core. If it could puppet, say, a red-core wielder... well, that would spell disaster. Maybe there were core-level requirements baked in. Or maybe that detail was buried in the rest of these documents. If so, he didn¡¯t have time to dig¡ªhis gaze flicked to the shimmer of Iron Pact¡¯s main base in the distance.


    The fortress loomed, surrounded by a hazy barrier that glimmered like heat off stone. Patrol guards zipped through the air in formation, their vigilance plain. As the old man kept his gaze forward, Sergiy casually slipped the papers back into the box. No need to push his luck just yet.


    Soon enough, the carpet began its descent. Sergiy sighed, stretching lazily as they landed before the gates of the Iron Pact fortress. Not his problem anymore, thank the ancestors. Still, he couldn¡¯t help but fantasize: if they¡¯d just leave this box of forbidden knowledge in a corner somewhere, free for him to ¡°borrow¡±... wouldn¡¯t that be bliss? A drakkari could dream.


    ****


    I yawned again, a slow, lazy stretch as Belle stood before me, her little red bowtie somehow managing to look both dapper and smug. Sleep? Ha. Not for me. Whatever weird core nonsense had gone down earlier had wrung me out like an old rag. No other way to explain why I felt like I¡¯d sprinted through a tornado and lost.


    Belle, ever the professional badger, adjusted her bowtie with a paw and got ready as I prepared to tap into Thunder Verdict. Now, this spell had two ways of activation. First, the "classic mage special": summon every rune manually. Sounds doable, right? Wrong. There were so many runes, like, an eye-crossing, brain-aching amount. Could I theoretically handle it? Sure, because I¡¯d somehow managed to pull it off once in my dream against that wolf. But that was pure instinct. Now that I was awake and had a closer look? The spell was a masterpiece of complexity. Beautiful, sure, but intimidating as hell.


    The second method, though, that was what mattered to me. Turns out, having Thunder Verdict engraved on my core came with perks. No spell-weaving, no mana-threading, no ritualistic dance of channeling mana. Just me, my core, and a mental tap on a door that opened itself. It was almost insultingly convenient.


    With that little revelation settled, I asked Belle to start running around. She saluted (adorable, honestly) and bolted off like a furred missile. Was it just me, or was she faster than before? Huh. Not the point.


    I honed in on my core, brushing against Thunder Verdict like cracking open a current. Immediately, a million little sparks lit up in Belle¡¯s body like a firework display. Lightning rippled through her neurons, crackling across synapses, and I knew¡ªnot logically, but instinctively¡ªwhat to do next.


    My gaze flicked to my stats screen, keeping a wary eye on how much mana this would chew through. With a deliberate motion, I focused on the neurons in her legs. The connection felt tangible, almost electric, like my consciousness had leapt across space to plug into her. I could sense the tiny jolts firing through her nervous system¡ªeach pulse, every charge, dancing in intricate patterns. It was mesmerizing, like peering into the threads of life itself.


    And then, I moved. My hand twitched, more reflex than thought, targeting a specific cluster in her legs. Belle jerked mid-sprint, her limbs spasming as if they¡¯d momentarily rebelled against her control. The connection flared bright, searingly vivid, before flickering out like a dying spark.


    She stumbled, glaring at me with the accusatory look only a badger could muster. My lips curled into a grin. "Well," I murmured, "that was... shocking."


    I went through the motions again and again, meticulously noting down the results. The spell was undeniably powerful. Truly, absurdly powerful. And again, the sheer complexity of it struck me. Imagine a mage weaving their masterpiece spell, only for me to make their hands twitch or jerk backwards mid-cast. That¡¯s it¡ªspell fizzles, poof, game over. The same principle applied to warriors: a well-timed slip, a missed strike, and suddenly their big, dramatic finish looks more like an awkward tumble at a children¡¯s play.


    Anything that let me wrest control over someone else¡¯s body, even for a fleeting moment, was a terrifying tool in the right¡ªor wrong¡ªhands. But that wasn¡¯t even the full picture. No, if I had the time and a bit of practice, I was certain I could do much more than just puppeteer limbs for a fleeting moment. Still, I wasn¡¯t about to try that on Belle. Poor thing didn¡¯t deserve to be my crash-test badger for something potentially life-altering¡ªerr, limb-altering. I¡¯d have to find more suitable test subjects.


    And speaking of experiments, a little light bulb flickered on in my mind. My alignment was Judgement, wasn¡¯t it? Did that mean judgement-related activities¡ªrighting wrongs, passing verdicts, doling out the occasional poetic justice¡ªwould grant me experience points? A quick peek at the status screen confirmed it. Hmm. Interesting.


    I yawned again, a slow stretch as the faint sound of trickling water whispered through my head. Blinking, I snapped the notebook shut, my musings neatly recorded for later. I still had a bit of time before I needed to head to the lab, and a dozen ideas were already vying for my attention. But not like this.


    With an almost theatrical flop, I collapsed onto my bed, the soft mattress swallowing me whole. Maybe another chat with Lotte was in order. I could share my findings, press her for more of her infuriatingly cryptic insights, and maybe needle her into dropping a few useful tidbits.


    That plan, however, would have to wait. Sleep hit me like a spell backlash, and I was out cold before I could think another thought.

 Chapter 103: A Doll?

    ¡°LOTTE!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve returned so soon?¡±


    ¡°Well, whatever that was, it sucked me dry.¡± I flopped onto the grass like a sack of overly dramatic potatoes. ¡°Could¡¯ve given me a heads-up, you know.¡±


    Lotte¡¯s voice chimed in, calm as ever. ¡°Had I believed such a notion conceivable, I would have acted accordingly.¡±


    That set my scales tingling, my instincts prickling like a bad itch. ¡°Then why do I feel like I sprinted laps around the planet?¡± My ears twitched, catching an odd, rhythmic noise in the background. ¡°And what¡¯s with that weird... glub-glub water sound?¡±


    A low chuckle echoed in my mind as Lotte shifted her massive head, her gaze fixing on something in the distance.


    I turned to follow her line of sight and froze. The air ahead was doing something it absolutely shouldn¡¯t. It rippled¡ªnot like wind through tall grass but like someone had flicked a pebble into a pond made of reality itself. The grasslands twisted and shimmered in unnatural waves, the sound of churning water louder now.


    Before I could ask what the hell, the distortion pulsed violently, and something oozed its way out.


    First came a clawed, shadowy hand. Then a ragged robe. And finally, a doll¡ªsmall, unsettling, and draped in lavender fabric that probably had a story involving cursed attics and bad decisions. Its glossy, beady eyes locked onto mine, and the swirling void in them oozed loathing so palpable I could practically taste it.


    My scales bristled, a low growl escaping my throat.


    But then it twitched. No, not just twitched¡ªconvulsed, like a marionette being yanked by a drunken puppeteer. Its head tilted awkwardly toward Lotte, who¡ªblast her¡ªmerely chuckled again in my mind.


    The doll¡¯s response was¡­ less composed. It let out a blood-curdling screech. The sound made my ears flatten as it grabbed its head, bashing it against the ground with terrifying force. Its porcelain hands shattered. Cracks spiderwebbed across its face. The lavender robe tore like tissue paper in a storm. And then, as if it realized melodrama wasn¡¯t enough, it caught fire.


    I barely had time to yelp before it exploded with a deafening BOOM!


    Shrapnel flew everywhere, and a smoldering scrap of fabric arced through the air, landing squarely in my open mouth.


    I blinked.


    Then, with the sheer force of someone who had clearly given up on adhering to the conventions of normalcy, I chewed. Absently.


    ¡°Huh. Kinda... chewy.¡± There was a faint spice to it, the sort of heat that made you wonder if it was meant for digestion or as a prank. I nearly swallowed it, half-curious if it might grant me some Morphogens, before an invisible smack landed squarely on the back of my head.


    ¡°Bleh!¡± The scrap tumbled out of my mouth in a soggy heap, and I glared at Lotte.


    ¡°Refrain from consuming indiscriminate substances,¡± she admonished.


    ¡°You could¡¯ve just told me!¡± I huffed, rubbing the back of my head. ¡°No need to use the bonk of doom or whatever that was.¡±


    But the main question lingered, pulling my attention back to the smouldering remnants. ¡°What the hell was that thing? It just showed up, stared daggers at me, lost its bloody marbles when it saw you, and then decided to self-destruct in a blaze of glory. Seriously, what the fuck?¡±


    Lotte didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, she glanced around, her massive head tilting as if listening to some far-off frequency. Then, as if on cue, the scattered doll fragments began to shift. Slowly, unnervingly, they floated into the air, drawn together by an unseen force.


    ¡°Time and again, I¡¯ve cautioned you,¡± Lotte murmured, ¡°The world teems with peril, and even those who tread with utmost vigilance cannot evade every snare.¡±


    I furrowed my scaly brow, defensive. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything! I¡¯ve been cautious! I¡¯ve got the anti-divination charm you made me craft, and my room¡¯s practically a fortress with all those wards you taught me. I¡¯ve been careful¡ªmostly.¡±


    Lotte¡¯s voice was patient, too patient. ¡°Caution alone is a feeble shield. There are junctures where events transpire not because of what you¡¯ve done, but simply because of your presence. An immutable truth of existence.¡±


    The doll¡¯s pieces wove themselves back together as she spoke. Shattered porcelain fused seamlessly, the scorched fabric repaired itself as if time had hit rewind. In no time, the grotesque figure stood as it had before, dark and whole.


    ¡°Even my vision is bound by limitations,¡± Lotte continued. ¡°Perhaps the hour has come for you to master an alternate means of preservation.¡±


    That made me sit straighter, even though she still hadn¡¯t answered my original question about the doll. Not directly, anyway. But something about this felt disturbingly familiar, the same sense of exhaustion and wrongness I¡¯d felt when Barn first wandered into this strange ¡°dream¡± of mine. The doll hadn¡¯t dragged me into a contract, though¡ªor at least, I didn¡¯t think it had.


    My gaze flicked to the endless grassland around us, questions swirling like eddies in a deep pool. What was this place, really? Some natural phenomenon where even entities untethered to me could slip through? Did others have dreamscapes like this, vast and unexplored? Or was this another layer of the iceberg¡ªanother glimpse into the yawning abyss of what magic truly was?


    Before I could voice the question, Lotte extended one of her massive claws, and a wave of shimmering light coalesced into a glowing symbol in front of her. Its design was striking yet cryptic: a sword, though curiously lacking a hilt, its blade surrounded by two serpentine waves that encircled it. At the top, a single dot hovered like a guiding star, and a perfect circle enclosed the entire symbol.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°A rune?¡± I asked, tilting my head.


    ¡°Form it,¡± Lotte commanded.


    ¡°Aye, aye.¡± No time to waste. I focused, letting mana flow through my body. I kept it neutral as it pooled at the tips of my claws, shaping it carefully into threads. My hands moved as if tracing an invisible blueprint, reconstructing the rune with deliberate precision. As the final thread snapped into place, the symbol gleamed brightly¡ªand I felt it.


    A drain. The rune was siphoning mana from me, drawing it steadily like an endless thirst.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± she observed intently. ¡°Now, expel the mana that has transformed into spirituality from the rune. Channel this essence, distill it into your throat, your voice.¡±


    Wait¡ªspirituality? My ears perked up. I¡¯d heard of spirituality before, but only in the context of high-level ritualists. It was a refined essence, far rarer than raw mana.


    Still, I obeyed, compelling the rune to release its energy. At my will, a smoky, silvery haze rose from the rune, sparkling faintly. It felt alive¡ªfluid yet steady¡ªjust like mana, but heavier, more potent. My fascination nearly got the better of me, but I kept control, guiding the silvery wisp into my throat as instructed.


    ¡°Good,¡± Lotte repeated. Her voice shifted into that melodic cadence again, heavy with authority. ¡°Now, synchronize your voice with mine.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Echo my words,¡± she clarified.


    ¡°The Eternal Arbiter of Sin and Virtue.¡±


    I hesitated, but the command in her voice pushed me forward. ¡°The Eternal Arbiter of Sin and Virtue.¡± The moment the words left my throat, I felt them pull at the gathered spirituality, draining a sliver of its power.


    ¡°Gaia¡¯s First Daughter.¡±


    ¡°Gaia¡¯s First Daughter.¡±


    With each phrase, the weight in my throat grew heavier, the words demanding more from the concentrated spirituality.


    ¡°The Keeper of the Scales.¡±


    ¡°The Keeper of the Scales.¡±


    ¡°The Warden of Chains.¡±


    ¡°The Warden of Chains.¡±


    ¡°Mother of Silence, I beseech thee.¡±


    ¡°Mother of Silence, I beseech thee.¡±


    The final phrase left my throat like a hammer striking stone. The concentrated spirituality sparked and vanished, leaving behind an odd emptiness as the air around us rippled faintly in response.


    I tilted my head, ears twitching as if trying to catch the faint echoes of something unseen. ¡°Well¡­ that was something,¡± I muttered. ¡°Feels like one of those chants priests used to recite. Y¡¯know, trying to summon divine protection or something. Never actually saw it work, though. Always felt like random strings of words.¡±


    Lotte didn¡¯t respond immediately, but I caught the barest flicker of a knowing glance.


    ¡°Makes sense, I guess,¡± I continued, ¡°since the gods abandoned this continent ages ago¡ªat least, that¡¯s what Gwen says. But this¡­¡± I gestured vaguely at the lingering ripples. ¡°This isn¡¯t one I¡¯ve heard before. Are there new gods outside the continent?¡±


    The elaborate titles gnawed at me. I¡¯d read enough of Thalador¡¯s Bible to recognize the grandeur associated with deities. These titles. Then, like a loose thread unraveling, a memory surfaced. ¡°Wait. I have heard the name Gaia before. When I evolved, the dungeon told me I was in Her ¡®embrace.¡¯ Said I was protected or something. So, I always assumed She was the dungeon. Is that true?¡±


    My curiosity flared. So many questions, so few answers. But as usual, Lotte¡¯s inscrutable calm extinguished the spark.


    ¡°Do not trouble yourself over it,¡± she said simply.


    But I wanted to trouble myself over it. My mind buzzed with questions, tangling and twisting into a knot of curiosity. Still, I knew there was no getting past Lotte. She was a wall, an immovable force in a world filled with unknowns. With a sigh, I shut up, biting back the words that wanted to spill out.


    The world was dangerous, she¡¯d said, time and again.


    I turned my gaze to the doll in her hands, now fully reformed from the ruin it had been. But before I could even think to ask about it, there was something I needed to know.


    ¡°What would this chanting even do?¡± My voice was sharp with impatience. ¡°As far as I know, gods won¡¯t answer anyone¡¯s call here. Not on this continent.¡±


    Lotte¡¯s expression didn¡¯t shift. ¡°You can access the dreamscape without needing to sleep that way,¡± she said simply. ¡°Should you encounter metaphysical perils, it could prove your salvation. This world harbors dangers far more insidious than any you¡¯ve faced.¡±


    Her answer only stoked the flames of my curiosity. That chant¡ªit wasn¡¯t just a trick or a tool. It had invoked divinity, the presence of some goddess. My mind spiraled with possibilities, snagging on the first plausible one.


    Was Lotte herself¡­?


    No, that couldn¡¯t be. Every record I¡¯d read from the church was explicit: no mortal could stand in the presence of a god and survive. Minds turned to mush; souls shattered. Even the most devout priests had never claimed to directly speak with a deity.


    Maybe this place was imbued with lingering divinity¡ªsomething tied to its very fabric. That would explain the strange connection I felt to it, to Lotte. Perhaps she was using that power to sustain this space. Or maybe¡­ maybe it was just another bizarre dragon thing that I didn¡¯t understand.


    The not-knowing burned at me. My desire for answers felt like a weight. It was heavy and unrelenting.


    Pushing those thoughts aside, I latched onto a different subject. One that had been itching at the back of my mind. ¡°Speaking of weird dragon things,¡± I began, ¡°I think I might finally have the ingredients for the ritual to turn Belle into my supplicant! I just need to visit that hidden market in the slums for a few items. But¡­¡± I hesitated, my claws tapping lightly against the ground. ¡°Trouble is, I¡¯ve no clue where to find it. I¡¯m too afraid to, you know... talk to people. What if that left some traces? So, I just skulk and eavesdrop.¡±


    Lotte chuckled, a quiet sound that somehow felt both reassuring and ominous. ¡°That might change soon,¡± she said. ¡°Perhaps, instead, someone will seek you out.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Merely a golden thread I glimpsed,¡± she said cryptically. ¡°Do not be alarmed when it ensnares you.¡±


    Golden thread? My brain whirred, but nothing came to mind. Whoever it was, I¡¯d find out soon enough. Or rather¡ªthey¡¯d find me. And, if I was being honest, I needed connections. There was only so much a sneaky little dragon could accomplish on her own. If Lotte said someone would appear, I was inclined to believe her.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered, shifting my weight. ¡°Anything else you want to tell me? Especially about this doll?¡±


    The air shifted before she could answer. The doll shuddered, and faint ripples of runes appeared over its beady eyes. An unseen force cocooned it, trembling with an almost tangible fear. I¡¯d seen that fear before¡ªBarn had been the same way. Slowly, the force eased, setting the doll gently on the ground before me.


    ¡°Just a lost soul,¡± Lotte said. ¡°I¡¯ve made adjustments¡ªit should no longer exhibit hostility upon your waking.¡±


    I picked up the doll gingerly, its trembling form fitting awkwardly in my claws. A strange sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu washed over me. The scene felt eerily familiar.


    ¡°Is it going to be useful to me?¡± I asked, tilting my head.


    ¡°Not much,¡± she admitted, ¡°Unless, of course, you¡¯re pitted against another wielder of lightning magic. But there¡¯s an absence you must address¡ªdivination. The doll will serve as your conduit. And remember, every precaution you take in this volatile world will always fall short.¡±


    Her gaze drifted into the distance, as if she could see dangers I couldn¡¯t begin to fathom. ¡°Do whatever is necessary to endure.¡±


    I studied the doll in silence, then glanced back at Lotte. ¡°Even now that I¡¯ve gained some power?¡±


    ¡°Especially now that you¡¯ve gained some power,¡± she said with a chuckle.


    Well, that wasn¡¯t ominous at all.


    I tightened my grip on the shivering doll, feeling its faint tremors. At least I had something to show for all of this. But watching Lotte¡ªand Gwen, for that matter¡ªgo on about how dangerous the world was without ever telling me how felt maddening. It was as if even knowing the truth might destroy me.


    Fine. If knowledge wouldn¡¯t come easily, then I¡¯d make myself strong enough to uncover it on my own. I needed to grow, to evolve.


    Good thing I had another method of leveling up. Maybe it was finally time to test how efficient it could be.

 Chapter 104: Squee! Translation: Dolls Are Liars

    The plain ceiling of my dorm room greeted me like an old, indifferent acquaintance the moment I opened my eyes. That earlier bone-deep exhaustion? Gone as if swept away by some unseen hand. With a sharp slap of my palms against the bed, I sprang upright, only to spot something peculiar by my bedside¡ªa doll, robed and serene, its expression carved with unsettling tranquillity.


    Belle, my ever-dramatic badger, was doing her trademark ¡®angry donut¡¯ routine around it, growling her unique ¡°Squee!¡± as if daring the doll to explain itself¡ªor face the wrath of tiny but fierce claws. I stretched a hand to calm the fluffy tempest, but before I could, the doll twitched.


    It wasn¡¯t the same eerie, tattered spectre from my dreams anymore. No, this one looked... polished, regal even. Its robe gleamed white, with golden embroidery glinting like trapped sunlight. Raven-black hair now framed its face, eyes covered with fabric adorned with those same shimmering runes. A touch of Lotte¡¯s handiwork, I¡¯d wager.


    Belle recoiled as the doll stirred, a growl still bubbling in her throat. Its head turned with a strange, unnatural fluidity, its featureless gaze locking onto me. Golden light began to seep from the stitched runes, faint but undeniably alive. And then¡ªbefore I could react¡ªit let out an unexpected yelp and launched itself off the bed. Belle and I nearly leapt out of our skins.


    Belle hissed with the venom of a creature wronged. Belle liked nearly everything. Belle, however, did not like the doll.


    The doll, for its part, raised its stubby, fabric-covered appendages¡ªhands by design, though hardly functional¡ªand slammed its head down in what I assumed was some form of obeisance.


    ¡°I mean no harm, Mistress!¡± A voice echoed, melodic like wind chimes kissed by ocean waves. It might have been enchanting if not for the distinctly whiny undercurrent.


    I scooped Belle up, who by now was a feral fuzzball of indignation, hissing with all the fury her tiny lungs could muster. Lotte had assured me the doll wasn¡¯t hostile, and so far, it seemed she hadn¡¯t lied.


    The doll lifted its head and cocked it to the side. ¡°Is something the matter?¡± it asked, the words dripping with a peculiar mix of politeness and awkwardness.


    I blinked at it. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting you to talk, for starters.¡± Honestly, I was bracing for something more like Barn¡ªan incomprehensible jumble of gibberish my brain somehow interpreted on a good day.


    ¡°In a sense,¡± the voice resonated again. The doll¡¯s hands rested on its knees as it crouched slightly, almost theatrically. ¡°I am bound to you now, mistress, as per the terms set in motion by the one who reforged me.¡±


    Reforged. Of course, Lotte¡¯s tinkering. I suppressed a sigh.


    ¡°What¡­ are you?¡± I asked, noting the eerie level of sentience.


    The doll tilted its head, then quickly looked away as if flustered under my scrutiny. If it had blood, I¡¯d have sworn it was blushing. ¡°I am¡­ a guide, Mistress,¡± it said haltingly. ¡°I exist to act in your stead, to see where you cannot, and to warn of what you might not perceive.¡±


    I inhaled deeply, letting its words settle. Divination. Yes, Lotte mentioned that this thing would help me wield it. Straightforward enough.


    Belle, however, was having none of it. She glared at the doll with righteous fury and hissed once more. ¡°Squee!¡± Translation: Dolls are liars!


    I pinched the bridge of my nose and shot her a look. ¡°Oh, belt up, Belle. When have you even met a doll?¡±


    Belle bristled, letting out a sharp, defiant "Squee!" Oh, she knew. She could smell it, even if she hadn¡¯t. "Squee!!" Give her the word, and she''d happily reduce this doll to fabric scraps and sawdust.


    That fiery enthusiasm earned her a thwack on the back of her head, which produced a wounded, high-pitched squee that practically oozed betrayal. "No shredding the doll. She¡¯s not dangerous."


    That made me pause. To me, she wasn¡¯t dangerous. But what about Belle? Did my little tea-brewing, biscuit-pilfering badger come under that umbrella of protection as well?


    The doll stirred then, movements fluid but stiff, as though still calibrating itself to its own limbs. Its voice was soft yet unnervingly smooth. ¡°I have been granted the ability to ascend to a heightened state, mistress. To glimpse the endless seas of possibility that ripple around you.¡±


    ¡°Squee!¡± Belle protested, clearly unconvinced¡ªand perhaps a tad offended¡ªby both my earlier smack and the doll¡¯s grandiose claims.


    I decided to focus on the doll for the moment, waving off Belle¡¯s grumbles. "What¡¯s your opinion of Belle?"


    The doll turned its head towards her, serene and expressionless, but the tone it adopted had a peculiar, almost pitying quality. ¡°The beast fears what it cannot comprehend. In time, she will learn.¡±


    Hostility? No. Condescension? A smidge too much for my liking. Especially considering this was Belle¡ªsophisticated, bowtie-sporting Belle, my partner in crime for tea-making, fish-devouring, and keeping things marginally tidy.


    ¡°She has a name,¡± I said, my voice edged with just enough authority to make my point clear. ¡°And you¡¯d best use it with the respect it deserves.¡±This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    The doll was quick to respond, bobbing its head in a frantic display of submission before abruptly slamming it against the ground. ¡°Of course, mistress! Belle is a guardian¡ªfierce, loyal, a stalwart companion who shares your burdens. She is¡­ precious. It would be madness to do otherwise!¡±


    I raised a brow. Well, at least the doll had its priorities sorted, even if its mood swings bordered on the unhinged. Subservient? Certainly. Comforting? Not in the slightest. Honestly, it made me oddly grateful that Barn couldn¡¯t talk.


    Rising from my bed, I tied my loose robe snugly around me and retrieved a comb from my nightstand. The mirror mounted beside the wall reflected back a messy-haired alchemist who was trying to look put-together, if only to uphold the illusion of cool, composed competence.


    ¡°Squee!¡± Belle chimed in, offering morning tea with her usual enthusiasm.


    ¡°Yes, please!¡± I replied, sitting down and tugging the comb through my hair. Untamed locks didn¡¯t bother me much, but appearances mattered. A flailing alchemist I might be, but a composed one? That¡¯s the image worth maintaining.


    The doll sidled up beside me, her gaze fixed as if scrutinizing every strand of my hair. I narrowed my eyes, suspicion tickling the back of my mind. Turning to face her, I asked, ¡°You want to do it?¡±


    Her response was instant¡ªan awkward fluster that somehow radiated from her otherwise serene expression. Her body language, however, betrayed her far more than her doll-like face ever could. ¡°I-I-if you wish it, mistress!¡±


    Without another word, I tossed the comb her way, which she caught with an impressive flick of dexterity. Not bad for someone who¡¯d seemed to only recently figured out how to walk properly. She clambered onto the bed while I grabbed a chair, dragging it over to let her short frame reach my mess of silver hair.


    To my surprise, her small porcelain fingers worked with a deftness I didn¡¯t expect. The comb moved methodically, untangling the knotted chaos bit by bit. It felt... oddly soothing. Almost too practiced.


    I couldn¡¯t help but voice my curiosity. ¡°So, what were you doing before all this? And how exactly did you manage to enter my dream?¡±


    She paused, her movements faltering for a beat. I couldn¡¯t see her face from where I sat, but I could sense her hesitation, her thoughts seemingly diving into murky waters.


    ¡°All I remember is darkness, mistress,¡± she began slowly, her tone distant, reflective. ¡°Until I detected a massive burst of light¡ªit woke me. I found myself in a sealed, shadowed room. But the seals were weak, so I broke out. I chased the light.¡±


    My brow furrowed. Did she mean me by the ¡°light¡±? A sealed room. Endless darkness. Nothing concrete came to mind, but Lotte¡¯s cryptic warning about my presence triggering certain events echoed in my thoughts. The questions started piling up like a tower of precariously stacked books, one teetering just above the others.


    One, however, refused to be ignored.


    ¡°How did you get into the dream I was in?¡± I tilted my head, casting a glance over my shoulder.


    The moment I asked, the runes etched into her form ignited. Golden light shimmered upwards, flickering like fireflies on a summer¡¯s eve. Her head tilted back, her voice taking on an unnatural resonance.


    ¡°I am not allowed to answer that, mistress,¡± she said, almost apologetic. ¡°The one who reforged me placed restrictions¡ªcertain questions I am forbidden to address. This is one of them.¡±


    I groaned. ¡°LOTTE! That fat-cat dragon!¡±


    The doll flinched the moment the word dragon left my lips, her panic palpable.


    ¡°Relax,¡± I said, trying for a reassuring grin, though it probably looked more manic than comforting. ¡°There are wards all around this room. Nothing spoken here escapes. If someone knowing is what¡¯s stopping you, then no need to fret!¡± Welp, tried.


    But there was no wriggling past whatever absurd constraints Lotte had sewn into the doll¡¯s golden threads. She shook her head, her robe of shimmering gold-stitch swishing with the motion, like an exasperated little oracle with too much flair.


    Still, her words echoed in my mind. Constraints around the question, not the information. Did the big bad dragon slip up? A mischievous grin tugged at my lips as the doll visibly shivered under my gaze. Oh, there was only one way to test that theory. Hehe.


    I bombarded her with a volley of loosely related questions, each one carefully skirting the original phrasing. ¡°What exactly does ¡®reforged¡¯ mean in your case?¡± No dice¡ªthe runes flared, and her head shook. ¡°What about the nature of dreams in general?¡± Another glow, another refusal. ¡°Is there something specific stopping you from just¡­ rebelling?¡± The glow intensified, almost as if mocking me.


    I refused to give up. It became a game, a battle of wits against a doll imbued with more restrictions than sense. And then, inspiration struck like a bolt of genius lightning.


    ¡°Is it a natural occurrence? Do other people have dreamscapes as well?¡±


    This time, the runes stayed dormant. Bingo.


    The doll hesitated, the delay sending sparks of triumph through me. ¡°Oh, come on, don¡¯t worry about that fat dragon! I can handle her!¡± I flashed what I hoped was a reassuring grin¡ªthough it might¡¯ve leaned more toward predatory enthusiasm. Finally, a crack in the vault!


    ¡°It is indeed a natural phenomenon, mistress,¡± she began, voice laced with reluctant obedience. ¡°I don¡¯t know its exact name, but it is deeply tied to the element of water. A vast sea of shared dreams, a collective consciousness. One must understand its operation to traverse it safely; otherwise, they risk becoming lost in its abyss.¡±


    A shiver crawled down my spine at her ominous phrasing, but the information itself was tantalizing. Water¡ªfluid, reflective, connected. Maybe it was some sort of concept related to the element of water. It fit perfectly. Ah, what a juicy nugget of information! I filed the details away, conveniently ignoring the "lost in the abyss" bit for now.


    By the time the doll finished taming my silver mane, I rose and sauntered over to the mirror. The reflection staring back at me was, in a word, charming. I nodded at myself, satisfied, then made my way to the wardrobe.


    The uniform I slipped into was a testament to the elegance to, well, alchemy itself! A flowing crimson robe adorned with golden lotus embroidery, its fabric smooth and as light as a summer breeze. The hem danced with every step, and paired with my crimson eyes, sleek silver hair, and polished silver horns, it created a deceptive image of innocence and fragility. A perfect blend of frail and deadly. Hehe. My favourite aesthetic.


    ¡°How do I look?¡± I asked, twirling with deliberate flair.


    ¡°You¡¯re perfect, mistress!¡± the doll chirped. Her tone dripped with such unrelenting sycophancy that I began to wonder if anything she said was genuine or just a relentless stream of flattery.


    Before I could ponder further, Belle barged in, little tail swishing in triumph as she carried a tray with three cups of tea. The bowtie-wearing badger had outdone herself this time.


    To my surprise, the doll accepted a cup without hesitation, holding it delicately at the carved line where her lips should have been before tilting it to ¡°drink.¡± I blinked. Twice. Then shrugged and sipped my own tea. Stranger things have happened.


    The tea session passed without incident, Belle seeming more at ease with the doll¡¯s presence. Her earlier tension had melted away, and I felt a quiet satisfaction at their tentative truce.


    As I finished the last sip of my tea, I glanced at the time. A few minutes before nine. That left me just enough wiggle room for a little experimentation.


    ¡°So¡­¡± I asked, setting my cup down and eyeing the doll. ¡°What exactly can you do in terms of divination?¡±

 Chapter 105: Divination

    "There are many flavors of divination, Mistress. You¡¯ll need to be a touch more specific about what you¡¯re asking.¡±


    As if I knew the first thing about divination magic. For starters, I didn¡¯t have the right pathway. Second, I didn¡¯t even have the right element for it. Sure, I¡¯d poked around enough to learn what traps to avoid¡ªnuggets of wisdom I might one day toss back at those who practiced it¡ªbut let¡¯s be honest, that was more curiosity than preparation. To no one¡¯s surprise, I got nowhere. Divination pathways are secretive for a reason.


    But now, finally, I had someone who could actually perform it. And damn if I wasn¡¯t just a little too eager to see how the magic sausage was made.


    I paused mid-thought, eyeing my peculiar companion. Calling her ¡°the doll¡± was getting exhausting, not to mention rude. She needed a name. Everyone deserved a name! ¡°Before we get into that, though¡ªdo you have a name?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t like I was about to slap one on her willy-nilly. She clearly had a mind of her own, a past too, judging by her behavior. Enough sentience to warrant some respect, at least.


    Her voice wavered. ¡°I-I do have a name, Mistress.¡±


    ¡°And that is?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not important, Mistress. If you wish to name me anew, I¡¯ll accept it humbly.¡±


    I arched a brow. ¡°Not up to me, is it? If you have a name, I¡¯ll use it¡ªunless you hate it for some reason?¡±


    She hesitated, fidgeting like she was wrestling with a ghost of her past. ¡°It¡¯s not that I hate it¡­ I was called The Pravodov Family Doll. Never cared for that title, didn¡¯t even know where it came from. But I gave myself a name¡ªAlice¡ªto remember myself.¡±


    I nodded, the name settling nicely in my thoughts. ¡°Alice. That¡¯s a good name.¡±


    Her little voice perked up, tentative but hopeful. ¡°D-do you like it, Mistress?¡±


    What was with this doll and her bizarre priorities? I sighed, shaking my head at her quirks. ¡°Yes, I do. And I¡¯ll happily call you that from now on.¡± Calling something so self-aware ¡°doll¡± just felt¡­ wrong.


    ¡°Anyway, Alice!¡± I said, watching her flinch and cover her face with her tiny hands like I¡¯d just thrown a fireball. Was she flustered? Again? What in the magical hells had Lotte done to this thing? Whatever. I brushed it off. ¡°About divination¡ªhere¡¯s the thing. No clue how it works. If I had to ask for something, it¡¯d be about that golden thread Lotte mentioned.¡±


    I scratched my chin, trying to piece together my request. Seeing Alice still looking dazed, I added, ¡°She said some kind of ¡®golden opportunity¡¯ was going to find me today. I¡¯m assuming it¡¯s a person. But can we, I don¡¯t know, figure out who or what it is?¡±


    Alice rested her tiny hands on her knees, her face still serene. ¡°Divination isn¡¯t as straightforward as that, Mistress. If your question¡¯s too fuzzy or muddled, it¡¯ll spit out riddles that make even less sense. You might want to rephrase it.¡±


    Of course, it couldn¡¯t be easy. Nothing ever was.


    I tried phrasing the question a few different ways, each attempt a fresh exercise in futility. ¡°Find out who¡ªor what¡ªthis ¡®golden opportunity¡¯ is?¡± Too vague¡ªDivination doesn¡¯t know squat about clich¨¦s. ¡°Any golden opportunity in the future?¡± Too broad¡ªthere¡¯s probably a hundred, and most wouldn¡¯t even be worth chasing. ¡°When will this golden opportunity show up?¡± Nope¡ªtoo process-focused, and Divination¡¯s not a calendar. Each version felt like trying to staple jelly to a wall.


    Alice let me flounder for a while before gently telling me to stop. ¡°Mistress, Divination isn¡¯t a map with a little red X marking treasure. It¡¯s a snapshot of potential outcomes¡ªa glimpse of where things could go. For example, if your revelation says an alchemical potion will make you rich, that might mean in thirty years, after it crashes and burns a dozen times. It¡¯s not a step-by-step guide, and sometimes it¡¯s too murky to quantify. Divination isn¡¯t all-powerful.¡±


    I sighed, rubbing my temples like that¡¯d somehow juice my brain into functioning better. High Intelligence stat? My arse. Why¡¯s wisdom not a stat?


    Alice¡¯s explanation, though, shed some much-needed light. Divination wasn¡¯t some god-tier cheat code for life. It was more like getting the punchline to a joke without hearing the setup, and sometimes, not even in the right language. Impatience? That just added static to the signal.


    I found myself grudgingly respecting divinators more and more. Even the one I¡¯d sent packing in a dungeon. Poor guy. May Thalador be kind to his probably very confused soul.


    Still, I wasn¡¯t ready to throw in the towel just yet. ¡°So, what you¡¯re saying is¡­ it can¡¯t just hand me a clean answer,¡± I said, half to Alice, half to myself. ¡°If I¡¯m too vague, it¡¯ll give me gibberish. If I go too broad, I¡¯ll end up chasing my tail for decades¡ªor miss the point entirely. Is that about right?¡±


    Alice tilted her head, her expression calm but with a faint flicker of what might¡¯ve been amusement. ¡°Exactly, Mistress. The problem isn¡¯t just the question but also the way fate spins its web. Divination shows fragments of truth, filtered through the cracks of time. If your intent isn¡¯t sharp, the result won¡¯t be either. Precision is everything.¡±


    Precision. Okay, I could work with that. Maybe.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered, pushing myself to my feet and pacing in front of her like that would jar a genius idea loose. ¡°What if I focused on something actionable? Instead of asking about a ¡®golden opportunity,¡¯ I could try, hmm¡­ ¡®What person will I encounter today whose actions will change my path?¡¯ Wait, no. Too reliant on ¡®change.¡¯ What if it just throws out someone who drops a coin I pick up?¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Alice, ever-patient, nodded and let me keep tangling myself in my own logic knots. It was a skill, really¡ªwatching someone crash and burn with grace.


    ¡°Okay, maybe¡­ ¡®Who will play a pivotal role in today¡¯s events?¡¯¡± I stopped mid-pace, shaking my head. ¡°Still too vague. What counts as pivotal? You see the problem, don¡¯t you? It¡¯s like I¡¯m trying to shoot an arrow at a bullseye that keeps moving.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Alice chimed in. ¡°And divination doesn¡¯t recognize your priorities, Mistress. What you think is important might not align with what fate considers worthy of revealing. A revelation may answer a question you didn¡¯t even think to ask¡ªor focus on details you find irrelevant.¡±


    I stared at her. ¡°So it¡¯s not just about asking the right question but also understanding that the answer might be sideways to what I want.¡±


    She nodded, folding her small hands neatly in her lap. ¡°That¡¯s correct. And remember, divination rarely illuminates the ¡®how¡¯, it speaks to the ¡®what¡¯ or ¡®when,¡¯ leaving the process entirely in your hands. If you¡¯re unprepared to navigate its subtleties, you risk making poor choices based on partial truths.¡±


    Hmm. Something about what she said clung to my thoughts. Hmm¡­ If I wanted divination to work for me, I¡¯d have to approach it like an interrogation, not a conversation. Specific. Targeted. Unambiguous. I couldn¡¯t afford to leave room for fate to interpret my intentions in ways that would trip me up later.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said finally, stopping in front of Alice. ¡°Let¡¯s try this. What person will I meet today who embodies¡ªor is tied to¡ªa critical turning point in my journey? No vague ¡®opportunities,¡¯ no fluffy phrasing. It¡¯s specific enough to rule out random bystanders but still open-ended enough to catch anyone important. How¡¯s that?¡±


    Alice tilted her head. ¡°That is¡­ better, Mistress. A far cry from your earlier attempts. But even with such a question, you must be prepared for an answer that is incomplete or challenging to interpret. Divination may tell you who but not why¡ªor it may point to someone whose significance only becomes apparent much later.¡±


    Alright, here we go, time to roll the dice and tango with the unknown. After all, a sliver of knowledge beats a fistful of ignorance any day!! Who¡¯s behind door number one today, hmm? Oh, but let''s not kid ourselves, this could flop spectacularly.


    ¡°Is this the question you want to ask?¡±


    I gave a curt nod. ¡°Yes, it is.¡±


    Alice nodded back. She hopped off the bed, bee-lining for my desk with purpose. With hands too nimble for someone her size, she plucked a quill and started scrawling my query onto a piece of parchment, each letter precise, deliberate. Task complete, she set the paper down between us.


    ¡°Do you have any mana crystals, mistress?¡± she asked, and oh, did I ever. A quick rummage through my drawer yielded the glittering stones. Following her instructions, I placed them at the corners of my room, their facets catching the dim light like miniature stars.


    ¡°To divine properly, you¡¯ve got to cleanse the area first¡ªunless you¡¯re some high-core diviner.¡± Alice¡¯s blindfold, woven with intricate golden runes, began to shimmer faintly. The mana crystals lit up in tandem, their glow birthing runic symbols eerily similar to the one Lotte once whispered to me in dream. I could feel it. A shift, a lightening. The room seemed to exhale, shedding a weight I hadn¡¯t realized it carried.


    ¡°The next step,¡± Alice intoned, ¡°is to establish a spiritual connection to the question.¡± No sooner had she spoken than the parchment between us floated into the air, as if buoyed by unseen currents.


    ¡°Step three is to call upon a guide. I¡¯ll use one my creator installed in my psyche.¡± Her blindfold flared even brighter, like molten gold catching the sun. ¡°O Mother of Silence, she who guides the lost and unveils hidden truths through her veil, grant me clarity.¡±


    The air thickened, charged with a presence I couldn¡¯t deny. My breath hitched as I remembered Lotte¡¯s murmured prayer¡ªMother of Silence. It was no coincidence. I¡¯d seen priests toss around divine titles, their hollow rituals devoid of true weight. But this? This was different. The invocation hung in the room like a melody, and for the second time that day, I stood witness to something profoundly, undeniably real.


    I closed my eyes. The pressure was intense yet¡­ strangely calming, like a lullaby sung by the sea.


    ¡°And now, the final stage,¡± Alice said softly, ¡°is to weave through the unseen¡ªthe waters of dreams, the Reflecting Depths, the endless sea of the collective consciousness.¡±


    Her tiny fingers clasped mine, and I felt a strange heat as her blindfold dissolved into nothingness. Two eyes, fathomless and dark as starless skies, locked onto mine. In that instant, I felt an expanding pull, a vortex unfurling deep inside me. Her gaze was an inkdrop blooming in water, spreading, spilling into my mind. The air twisted, space itself bending, until reality felt like a distant echo.


    Feathers. Black as shadows, endless as night. Crows. A whole murder of them perched on a ceiling. No¡ªthese were no ordinary crows. Three eyes. One leg. They watched. They whispered. Secrets unfurled from them like steam from a kettle¡ªthe scent of knowing. Of gathering. Of Whispering.


    Of Whispering.


    Of Whispering.


    Of Whispering.


    Then came footsteps, soft on gravel, a predator¡¯s tread meant not to be heard, only felt. Three tails slinked behind the figure¡ªvixen-like. And a mask, ornate. Humming with secrecy. The air reeked of hidden truths. Of Whispering.


    My lungs heaved, dragging in a sharp, involuntary breath. The world snapped back like a taut rubber band, dragging me with it. I staggered, suddenly aware of the bed beneath me, my chest rising and falling as if I¡¯d been sucker-punched by reality itself.


    ¡°Hah...¡± My mouth hung open as the sensation faded, leaving behind a strange clarity. Alice, now as composed as ever, sat with her golden-white blindfold neatly restored. The alien presence that had wrapped itself around the room was gone. But instead of the dazed confusion I should¡¯ve felt, a grin spread across my face.


    I had a hunch¡ªa pretty damn good one¡ªabout who might be reaching out to me.


    That was until I glanced at the clock. 9:30?! HOLY THALADOR! HOW THE BLOODY HELL HAD HALF AN HOUR VANISHED?!


    Panic shot through me. ¡°Oh gods, Vasilisa is going to kill me!¡± I scrambled off the bed, flinging my gratitude over my shoulder. ¡°Thanks, Alice! Gotta run!¡±


    Alice turned her head sharply at my thanks, her porcelain face tilted with what could only be described as flustered doll energy. She was trying to regain composure as I saluted Belle, the badger who had faithfully taken to her little broom and tiny cloth to tidy the room. She chirped a ¡°squee¡± in reply, and I turned to leave.


    But Alice¡¯s voice stopped me in my tracks.


    ¡°Wait a moment, mistress!¡± Her small frame shifted to stand. ¡°Take me with you!¡±


    I blinked, halfway to the door. ¡°What? Alice, no offense, but dragging a magical artifact through public spaces is not exactly low-profile. Especially a doll like you. Trained eyes will be crawling all over the place.¡±


    She tilted her head, her expression serene. ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about eyes when it comes to me, mistress.¡±


    I narrowed my gaze. ¡°Huh?¡±

 Chapter 106: Alice Knows, Perhaps a Bit Too Much

    I stepped into the corridor with Alice in tow. Turns out, the little porcelain menace could move. Her stubby legs zipped along at a pace that had me squinting¡ªa blur of glazed alabaster on a mission. Honestly, it was a relief¡ªI¡¯d half-expected to lug her around like a cursed handbag. I mean, she was a doll, after all.


    The dormitory stood nestled behind the Alchemy Tower, its aged silhouette a contrast to the gleaming modernity of Alchemy Tower. You could tell this place had been patched up rather than built with the seamless magic-tech that dominated the rest of the Varkaigrad. Here, magic enhancements were like clumsy band-aids slapped onto creaky, stubborn old wood.


    The thick oak walls bore a dull, over-cleaned sheen, like they¡¯d seen one too many overzealous cleaning spells. Speaking of which, I really needed to pick up one of those. Or better yet, teach it to Belle. Oh, Thalador help me¡ªshe¡¯d be ecstatic. Cleaning spells? A dream come true for her. That is, if she could even use magic. I''ll have to wait and see if this ritual to turn her into my supplicant comes with a bonus mana veins bundle. Fingers crossed.


    Just before the massive enchanted gates of the dormitory, I slowed my strides. There was a corner. Corners required care. My steps turned precise, deliberate. My posture straightened, an air of effortless aloofness washing over me. Graceful. Calculated. Exactly the kind of demeanor expected of a supposed Bloodtide sect princess. They believed me to be one of their high-ranking scions, so play the part I must.


    The Warden was waiting. She was a rakari¡ªa lion-kin¡ªand despite her years, the woman was still imposing. Her mane, once fiery, had faded to a stormy grey, but her sharp eyes and commanding presence had dulled not an inch. When she saw me, she smiled, her gravelly voice carrying a warmth that felt¡­unexpected.


    ¡°Can¡¯t believe Jade is actually late today,¡± she teased.


    I clasped my hands neatly in front of me, bowing slightly, my face a mask of impassive grace. ¡°Good morning, Warden. I may have been a little too engrossed in my studies. I trust Master Vasilisa will pardon my tardiness.¡±


    Her laugh rumbled low, a sound like rocks grinding together. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry your pretty little head about it. She will.¡±


    Before I could reply, Alice chimed in from behind me.


    ¡°Undercurrents of sadness and worry in her posture. Worry¡ªlikely misplaced keys. Sadness¡ªperhaps a dead lover?¡±


    I almost raised an eyebrow at her audacity. Almost. My expression remained schooled, cool as winter steel. The Warden either didn¡¯t hear her or pretended not to, and I wasn¡¯t about to test which.


    Instead, I nodded politely to the Warden and glided past, my pace unhurried and composed. Behind me, Alice trotted along, her absurdly quick legs a blur of motion. Yet, strangely enough, the Warden hadn¡¯t even glanced at her. No flicker of recognition. Nothing.


    I waited until we rounded a quieter corner before glancing down at her. ¡°Alright, spill it. What the hell did you just say back there?¡±


    Alice tilted her blindfolded porcelain head. ¡°The truth, Mistress. The first step to entering the sea of collective consciousness and attuning oneself to it is reading people beyond what their surface conveys. The undercurrents speak volumes if you listen.¡±


    I sighed, already feeling a headache brewing. ¡°Fine. But how are you hiding yourself from them?¡±


    She stopped, tilting her head slightly upward as though addressing the heavens¡ªor perhaps just to flex her superiority. ¡°My existence is attuned to the sea of collective consciousness. I manipulate it, subtly nudging the perceptions of those around me to create a blind spot. Ensuring their gazes slide right past.¡±


    I blinked. The sea of collective consciousness.. Hmm..


    She spoke of it like it was a tangible realm, something you could wade into with hip-high boots and a lantern. The thought caught me mid-step. Then I started moving again, my mind already churning.


    What if it was a real place?


    Alice wouldn¡¯t give me the answers I craved¡ªLotte¡¯s orders, of course. But that didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t dig my way around the restrictions. Loopholes were a staple of roundabout teachers like Lotte. If Alice wouldn¡¯t tell me outright, I¡¯d scribble down every theory I could glean and test them one by one. The thought made me grin, a predatory edge curling at my lips.


    Still, as another idea wormed its way into my thoughts, my grin faded into a contemplative hum. What if Lotte had left these loopholes on purpose? She was always annoyingly indirect when doling out knowledge, baiting me to claw for what I wanted. I wouldn¡¯t put it past her to make me work for every scrap.


    Shaking my head, I refocused and headed toward the Alchemy Tower, once again draping myself in the regal airs of a sect princess. Graceful, unbothered, and commanding.


    At the main entrance, I exchanged formal greetings with those stationed there, ignoring the one drakkari guard whose face turned the color of a ripe beet whenever he saw me. His expression stayed stoic¡ªimpressive, really, given the flush crawling up his neck. He should probably get that checked. Couldn¡¯t be healthy.


    In just one month, I¡¯d clawed my way to the second floor of the tower¡ªthe domain of intermediate apprentices, where fundamentals were a thing of the past and advanced alchemical projects reigned supreme. Promotion here wasn¡¯t exactly a walk in the park. You had to outwit Vasilisa, the resident gatekeeper, whose tests were less about applying what she taught and more about dodging the traps she¡¯d sprinkled in her theories like rat poison.


    I hadn¡¯t struggled. At all. In fact, I¡¯d found it almost laughably simple. Yet every day, as I passed the others¡ªeyes hollow, envy practically radiating off them like steam¡ªit hit me: I might be an outlier.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Or, on second thought¡­ maybe they were just incompetent? No, that¡¯s too harsh. Let¡¯s call it a deficit in creative problem-solving. Yes, that¡¯s better.


    Whatever.


    Alice had a knack for vanishing¡ªnot literally, but functionally. No one noticed her; no one even glanced in her direction. It wasn¡¯t stealth or advanced camouflage. It was something better: erasing herself from perception entirely. The idea of such power sent a spark of determination coursing through me. The sea of collective consciousness she¡¯d mentioned was quickly climbing my list of things to uncover.


    Before I knew it, I¡¯d reached my destination: the second floor of the alchemy tower. The walk took maybe four, five minutes tops at a brisk pace. Ahead stood the double doors, imposing and exquisite, carved from ironwood and inlaid with intricate runes. These weren¡¯t just for show. Each rune was a piece of an advanced warding system designed to keep out the unworthy. Only authorized mana signatures could pass.


    I pressed my hand against the wood and felt the familiar tingle of mana recognition. The doors shivered, then wavered, their solid form dissolving into a misty, gaseous state. People claimed this system was Vasilisa¡¯s personal creation, and honestly, I believed it. Every time I saw it in action, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of awe.


    It wasn¡¯t just transmutation or state change¡ªit was a seamless reaction to a precise mana signature. And the mana cost? Practically negligible. To think such power was used on something as mundane as doors was enough to leave me breathless the first time I experienced it.


    Vasilisa was a monster when it came to alchemy, no doubt about it. But she was the kind of monster worth admiring. I grinned at the thought as I stepped through the misty barrier, Alice trailing silently behind me like a shadow.


    The second floor welcomed me with a shift in atmosphere that was impossible to ignore. Here, the tower¡¯s grandeur revealed itself in full. The central atrium rose high, its walls adorned with floating bookshelves that glided through the air with a faint whoosh, rearranging themselves as though alive. Above, a massive chandelier composed of shimmering mana crystals cast a dazzling, multicolored glow that danced across the polished floors in playful patterns.


    At the atrium¡¯s heart, a spiral staircase of wrought silver coiled upward, promising more mysteries on the higher floors. The entire space was a masterpiece of alchemical ingenuity. A harmonious blend of enchanting precision. Of artistic vision.


    I had miles to go on the learning curve, and learn I would¡ªstarting with patching up this floundering drakkari mess of mine. Whatever it took to keep the dragon beneath veiled. The tower loomed ahead, its atrium spilling into the Senior Apprentice Wing on the second floor. With a practiced stoicism plastered across my face, I strode toward my assigned workspace.


    Vasilisa was already there, naturally. A Zaryn, Hawk-kin. Her features were as sharp as her gaze¡ªbeak-like nose, piercing emerald eyes, and feathers woven into her ash-blonde braid. She had a habit of staring at people like she could pin them to the wall with her glare alone. Her hawk eyes locked onto me as I approached Station 14, unflinching and all-knowing. But she didn¡¯t so much as twitch at the fact I was half an hour late. A rare gift from the gods, truly, since she was infamous for ripping into people for being sixty seconds behind. Maybe Thalador himself smiled on me today. Or maybe she was saving her wrath for dessert.


    Station 14 was one of countless claustrophobic cubicles packed into the hall, each one a jungle of alchemical equipment and enchantments humming faintly with mana. My cubicle was a blackened sanctuary: an obsidian countertop etched with heat-dispersing runes, gleaming as though it drank in the light. Shelves above teetered under the weight of jars, vials, and pouches, each filled with ingredients of varying degrees of toxicity and allure. My stomach twisted, but not unpleasantly. The sight made my mouth water.


    Oh, the possibilities. Maybe I''d whip up something extraordinarily lethal and sip it like tea. Some poisons¡ªproper poisons¡ªhad a flavor so divine that even the finest wine couldn¡¯t compete. I¡¯d been craving that bite lately. But alas, work called. Apprentice life didn¡¯t permit indulgence without output.


    My quota loomed: thirty units of standardized potions per week, churned out like cogs in the tower¡¯s grand machine. These weren¡¯t the glittering, groundbreaking elixirs alchemists were celebrated for. Instead these were the everyday potions¡ªthe bread and butter of the trade: health restoratives, stamina draughts, mana tonics, and focus elixirs. They demanded precision, each batch scrutinized under Vasilisa¡¯s hawk-eyed glare. One flaw, and she¡¯d pounce. Apprentices wept under her merciless quality checks, their tears probably an unlisted ingredient.


    I hitched my sleeves and began, plucking ingredients with near-devotional zeal. Alice anchored the bench beside me, still as a sundial. Her blindfolded serenity flickered when she thought I wasn¡¯t looking¡ªa paradox, how her void-eyed attention pierced sharper than any gaze.


    The tools became an extension of my pulse. Alchemy does that¡ªa ballet of flux and alkahest. Each herb, mineral, and tincture hummed a chord in a symphony only my bones understood. My hands wove routines into revelation, each motion a stanza in some primal, breathing verse. That¡¯s alchemy¡¯s core: not mere transmutation, but truth spun raw from the cosmos¡¯ marrow.


    Every flask murmured secrets beneath its utilitarian shell. In the flicker of burner flames and the glug of simmering retorts, I found tempo. Alchemy wasn¡¯t just equations¡ªit was kinetic poetry. Here, stagnation was heresy; motion, sacrament.


    Ingredients arrived as sagas. Preparing them wasn¡¯t chore, but liturgy. Each mince, mortar grind, or steam-distill teased forth dormant magic, ensuring their final chorus would harmonize. I swam so deep in the brew¡¯s rhythm, I nearly missed the shadow nearing my station. Nearly.


    Air Sense pricked my awareness first¡ªa breath against stillness, pressure shifts sketching intruder¡¯s contours. Without glancing up, I braided mana into a glowing transmutation sigil. ¡°Greetings, Mrs. Petrov,¡± I said, fingertips still dancing.


    ¡°Your eerie perception still gives me shivers,¡± she replied in that warm, motherly tone of hers. ¡°I swear, I didn¡¯t make a sound.¡±


    Technically, ¡°Lab Assistant¡± was her title, but the name hardly did her justice. She was Vasilisa¡¯s second-in-command, the only lab assistant in the entire tower, and the oil that kept this alchemical machine running smoothly. She was also a Urgoth, one of the Bear-kin. Towering and broad, her sheer presence should¡¯ve been intimidating, but somehow, it only made her seem more nurturing.


    As I finished the script, I allowed myself the smallest of bows, seated though I was. ¡°It¡¯s always an honor, Mrs. Petrov.¡± My voice slipped into a practiced, respectful cadence, the kind you use when navigating sharp-edged hierarchies. If I¡¯d overdone the grace, she didn¡¯t say. Mrs. Petrov was a font of warmth, after all, not the type to nitpick etiquette.


    She sighed, the kind of long-suffering sigh that only someone juggling a hundred responsibilities could muster. ¡°While I¡¯d love to sit and chat, Vasilisa¡¯s waiting for you. Let¡¯s hope you haven¡¯t stirred up any trouble.¡±


    I frowned, feigning innocence. ¡°Trouble? Me? Beyond my tardiness, I¡¯ve been angelic¡­¡± Lies glided smoother than glycerin.


    Petrov gave me a knowing look, her patience endless. ¡°If it¡¯s nothing, I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll let you off easy. But she¡¯s waiting. And yes¡ªshe¡¯s a little angry.¡±


    Oh, Thalador preserve me.


    As I stood, Alice chose her moment. ¡°Hmm. Anticipation laced with... yearning. I¡¯d say Mrs. Petrov¡¯s undergarments¡ª¡±


    My stare could¡¯ve frozen hellfire. The doll¡¯s porcelain jaw snapped shut. Her talent for dissecting souls was a blade without a sheath¡ªuseful until it slithered where it shouldn¡¯t.


    Some truths belong buried. For sanity¡¯s sake.

 Chapter 107: Safe, or So I鈥檇 Be

    The Senior Apprentice Wing¡¯s back office resembled a royal''s treasury of knowledge¡ªif said royal hoarded grimoires instead of gold. Mana lanterns hummed with captive starlight, their glow licking spines of leather-bound treatises and alchemical arrays. Every surface bore the fingerprints of meticulous madness: vials nested in velvet grooves, star charts pinned with daggers, ledgers stacked with tectonic precision.


    I ghosted through the open archway, Alice drifting behind me like sentient smoke. Vasilisa was performing her habitual panther-pacing, talons scoring grooves into the air. Hawk-kin anatomy be damned¡ªshe moved like a stormfront condensed into humanoid form. When irritated (which was always), her very feathers crackled with ozone.


    She wheeled toward us, jade eyes laser-etched with disdain. ¡°Five minutes tardy. Again.¡± Her voice could flay bark from oaks.


    I offered a bow polished by practice. ¡°The apparatus required monitoring, Master. Halting mid-calibration would¡¯ve vaporized three months¡¯ worth of moonroot extract. Mrs. Petrov relayed your¡­ summons?¡±


    ¡°Summons?¡± A derisive cluck. ¡°Child, when a master calls, apprentices sprint. Yet here you amble, stinking of subterfuge.¡±


    Ah. Yep. There it was. Somewhere along the line, I¡¯d clearly screwed up. The question was how she knew. Did Viera rat me out? Unlikely. She wasn¡¯t exactly the type to play informant.


    I tensed, but my face remained as blank as a freshly wiped slate. ¡°Subterfuge requires intent. I¡¯ve merely been¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªslipping through cracks like gutter mist?¡± she shot back, her feathers twitching ominously. Sweet Thalador, a sure sign she was gearing up for one of her verbal hurricanes. ¡°You think I didn¡¯t notice? The guards keep records every time someone leaves. Yesterday, you vanished with Viera. She returned; you didn¡¯t. Care to explain?¡±


    ¡­ Yeah, I might¡¯ve underestimated the whole ¡°guards keep records¡± thing. My usual sneaking-out tactic involved slipping into the fourth dimension in my dragon form from the comfort of my dorm. Seamless, undetectable. Except I¡¯d brought Viera along this time. Should¡¯ve seen the complications coming, but my brain had been otherwise preoccupied. Rookie move.


    ¡°Records are ink, not truth,¡± I parried, silk lacing my words. ¡°Perhaps the guard dozed. I¡¯ve been here all along.¡±


    Her shoes clicked against the stone floor as she advanced, each step a punctuation mark. ¡°Hear this clearly, little viper: I smell your games. Whatever fissure you¡¯ve slithered through, I¡¯ll seal it with axioms sharper than your lies.¡±


    Well, that was ominous. As long as she didn¡¯t alter the barrier¡¯s attribute to Light, I¡¯d still have an exit strategy. I kept my expression schooled, a delicate mask that nearly cracked when Alice decided to chime in.


    ¡°Fury¡¯s veneer¡­ but beneath? Layers beneath layers. Silt under riverstones¡ªshe fears for you, Mistress.¡±


    Vasilisa¡¯s gaze snapped toward Alice¡¯s general direction so fast I felt my heart leap into my throat. She frowned, her sharp eyes sweeping the room as if she¡¯d almost¡ªalmost¡ªdetected Alice¡¯s presence.


    ¡°Her perception is extraordinary,¡± Alice murmured.


    No kidding. But she hadn¡¯t pinpointed Alice, thank Thalador. Still, her reaction gave me something to chew on. Anger and worry, huh? That wasn¡¯t just irritation over me playing sneaky dragon. Something had rattled her.


    I straightened, letting practiced neutrality fracture into blade-sharp candor. ¡°Master¡­ is this concern personal, or just professional liability?¡±


    Vasilisa stilled¡ªa raptor mid-strike. Her gaze twitched again toward Alice¡¯s corner, a fractional tell I¡¯d have missed if not for a month of decoding her avian micro-expressions. For a heartbeat, her features tightened as if tasting ozone before a lightning strike. Then she retreated behind her desk, talons drumming a staccato dirge against mahogany.


    ¡°Worry?¡± She hissed, the word serrated. ¡°You¡¯re a ledger entry, girl. A risk-to-reward ratio. But yes¡ªimagine my distress when your corpse complicates my quarterly reports.¡±


    Lies. Her pupils had dilated mid-sentence. Alice hummed, ¡°The heart¡¯s ledger uses different arithmetic, Mistress.¡±


    Yeah, something was definitely off here. Whatever this was, it wasn¡¯t just about me being a sneaky delinquent. Time to dig deeper.


    ¡°Something happened?¡± I asked, keeping my tone neutral but probing.


    She hesitated. Her feathers twitched. A telltale sign she was battling with herself. For a fleeting moment, her gaze went distant, shadowed. Then, she exhaled, and the storm in her eyes settled into a grim focus.


    ¡°Three days ago, Alec¡¯s bed went cold. Yesterday, Tasha¡¯s workstation gathered dust. No notes. No traces. Just¡­ absence.¡± The word hung like a hanged man. ¡°And now my clients report intercepted shipments¡ªphoenix ash swapped for grave dirt, sylphic tinctures diluted with gutterwater. Coincidence?¡± Her laugh was a whetstone dragged across bone. ¡°Someone¡¯s painting a target on my business. Yours too, if you keep vaulting walls like a feral cat.¡±


    ¡°Your business?¡± I asked, latching onto the hint of bitterness in her tone.


    ¡°Yes, my business,¡± she snapped, talons gouging the desk. ¡°Or do you think enlightenment funds itself? Every drop you distill lines pockets¡ªroyal coffers, sect vaults, mercenary guilds. Our patrons demand potency, and in return, they leash their hounds. Now someone¡¯s cutting those leashes.¡±


    Her gaze bore into me. ¡°If you¡¯d been caught sneaking out, it would¡¯ve been one more strike against me. Against all of us.¡±


    Alice tilted her head thoughtfully. ¡°Her thorns grow from salted soil, Mistress. Protectiveness, fermented to cruelty.¡±


    I ignored her again, focusing on Vasilisa¡¯s words. ¡°Master, do you think the missing apprentices were¡­ leveraged?¡±


    Her emerald eyes hardened. ¡°I think they were taken. Maybe to send a message. Maybe for something worse. And if you have half a brain, you¡¯ll stay in the tower, where it¡¯s safer.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    I nodded, though the idea of staying cooped up here when my objectives lay outside didn¡¯t sit well. ¡°I understand, Master.¡±


    ¡°Keep it in your head, girl,¡± she said. ¡°This place is a thousand times safer than the outside. The wards, the protections¡ªI¡¯ll see to it that they¡¯re fortified. But out there?¡± She paused, shaking her head, her voice dipping into a rare, raw vulnerability. ¡°Out there, you¡¯re just a loose thread waiting to be plucked. And with everything happening right now, I will not lose another apprentice. Do you hear me?¡±


    ¡°I hear you, Master.¡± I nodded again, though my mind churned like a storm-tossed sea. Her warning was chilling. Whoever was behind this wasn¡¯t just targeting Vasilisa¡ªthey were disrupting the tower¡¯s entire operation. But to go after someone like her, someone with ties to the ruling families and sects of Varkaigrad? These people weren¡¯t just bold; they were suicidal. And with apprentices literally vanishing into thin air, this wasn¡¯t just business¡ªit stank of politics. Gods, how I loathed civilization sometimes.


    ¡°Well,¡± I said after a thoughtful beat, tilting my head, ¡°if someone¡¯s targeting us, shouldn¡¯t we be doing something about it?¡±


    Her laugh was sharp and humorless. ¡°Oh, we will. Trust me, girl, we will. But for now, your job is to stay alive. Every apprentice under me is my responsibility. So while I may not yet know how you¡¯ve found some loophole to sneak out, think you can manage not to abuse it again?¡±


    I bowed, my tone honeyed with compliance. ¡°Please be rest assured, Master. I¡¯m not foolish enough to endanger my life. I¡¯ll follow your orders and stay put.¡±


    Yet, as I inclined my head, I couldn¡¯t resist a slow sweep of my tongue across my fangs, catching the faint, metallic ghost of old blood. Ah, yes. It had been far too long since I¡¯d savored the richness of corporeal flesh. Wraiths and other incorporeal morsels were interesting, sure¡ªlike sampling air with a hint of spice¡ªbut they couldn¡¯t hold a candle to the satisfying, primal tang of something solid. If only fate¡ªor a particularly clueless soul¡ªwould deliver me a snack in some conveniently shadowed alleyway.


    Vasilisa gave me a sharp nod, her feathers finally settling, a clear dismissal. Cue my exit.


    The rest of the day dragged like molasses in winter. After sitting through the last of Vasilisa¡¯s hour-long lectures, I was free at last¡ªclock striking close to three. On the way back, I bumped into Viera, and we walked in mutual silence to my dorm. Well, silent except for Alice, who was buzzing like an overexcited gnat in my mind.


    ¡°Anxiety curdles her aura,¡± Alice observed, ¡°yet beneath? An undercurrent of¡­ anticipation. Maybe she¡¯s got something useful?¡±


    I could only hope.


    The moment the door clicked shut behind me, Viera crumpled onto my bed with all the grace of a felled tree.


    Belle was the first to break the tension, chirping an enthusiastic, ¡°Squee!¡± Her tiny form practically quivered with excitement at seeing Viera again. The response? A feeble wave from the lump on my bed.


    Finally, Viera rolled her head toward me. ¡°Vasilisa called,¡± she groaned. ¡°She wanted to know where the hell we were yesterday. I lied¡ªsaid we¡¯d gone to the market. She didn¡¯t buy it. Jade, I swear, I almost shat myself. She¡¯s onto you.¡±


    ¡°She was,¡± I admitted with a sigh.


    Her head snapped up. ¡°Wait, you got caught?¡±


    ¡°Sort of. Not the point. How¡¯d your chat with your father go?¡±


    Her expression shifted¡ªhalf annoyance, half triumph. ¡°Exactly like mine at first. ¡®Impossible,¡¯ he said. ¡®An alchemy accident, maybe. Beast illusions, possibly.¡¯ Blah blah blah. So, I told him the truth¡ªthat I¡¯d seen one myself. That got his attention.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    A grin split her face. ¡°I think he¡¯s going to report it to the main sect.¡±


    Finally, something promising. I exhaled a breath I hadn¡¯t realized I¡¯d been holding. ¡°About time. People need to know we¡¯re not dealing with some rogue experiment or shoddy spellwork. These things are real shifters¡ªunnatural ones.¡± I paused, my voice lowering. ¡°Then again, who¡¯s to say it isn¡¯t the result of some experiment gone horribly wrong?¡±


    The memory of the stench came unbidden¡ªthe cloying, rotting essence of that thing. Whatever it was, it reeked of something far worse than a simple mistake. This was deeper, darker¡ªa monstrous iceberg with only its jagged tip in view.


    Whatever. I¡¯d make sure to keep myself out of the crossfire¡ªno heroic martyrdom here. Just gather the intel I needed and leave the rest to Gwen. Sounded like a foolproof plan, or at least one I could live with.


    Belle interrupted my musings with a tray of tea, her usual air of self-importance intact. ¡°Squee!¡± Biscuits! She reminded me sternly. ¡°Squee!¡± Replenish them. Again. Priorities, clearly. But I could hardly argue with her logic. A dry tea session was unacceptable.


    After a polite farewell to Viera, I dove into my studies. My focus was a breakthrough¡ªfinding a way to shift parts of my Drakkari body into my dragon form at will. The goal was combat efficiency, and it wasn¡¯t going to happen without putting in the hours.


    By the time I finished scribbling theories and crunching numbers, the sun had already vanished, leaving me with a stack of notes and the tantalizing sense that I was close¡ªso close. Everything worked in theory. The next step would be testing. I could hardly wait.


    But tonight wasn¡¯t about breakthroughs or experiments. It was time to sneak out again. Opportunities didn¡¯t come knocking, and certainly not while I sat idle in my dorm. If my visions from divination were any clue, my golden thread of fortune wasn¡¯t meant for ¡°Jade.¡± It was for someone else. Someone called Miss Venom. I grinned.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to accompany you, Mistress,¡± Alice piped up.


    I opened my mouth to tell her no¡ªI couldn¡¯t sneak her out without drawing attention¡ªwhen a thought struck me. My frown deepened. The 4th dimension posed a unique dilemma: I couldn¡¯t carry items into it, but if something was inside me¡ªsay, in my mouth, and my maw remained firmly shut¡ªit could cross over intact.


    I¡¯d tested the theory before. On a bird. A dead one, granted, but it did confirm the principle. The question was whether Alice counted as ¡°alive.¡±


    ¡°You sure about this?¡± I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.


    ¡°Absolutely, Mistress. If you¡¯re referring to the shadow dimension, I should be fine. Just carry me as you would any other unliving object.¡±


    Her confidence gave me pause. What was Alice, anyway? If she ended up broken in the process, could I hand her over to Lotte for a quick patch job? Not exactly comforting, but better than nothing. Still, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to double-check.


    ¡°Oh, wait!¡± A grin spread across my face. ¡°We¡¯ll let the fates decide¡ªdivination!¡±


    ¡°If it puts your mind at ease, Mistress,¡± Alice said with an approving nod. This time, she reached for a mana stone and tied it to a thread, letting it dangle over a blank sheet of paper.


    ¡°This method is straightforward,¡± she explained. ¡°If it spins counterclockwise, the answer¡¯s no. Clockwise means yes. Now, think of your question.¡±


    ¡°Will Alice be harmed if I phase with her in my maw?¡± A solid, no-nonsense query. Alice nodded in agreement. ¡°That¡¯ll work.¡±


    Her blindfold¡¯s runes flared gold, melting into the fabric like sunlight sinking into ink, and the paper turned into a makeshift altar. When her eyes reappeared, twin voids spiraled where her beady eyes should¡¯ve been. With solemn clarity, she intoned the question. Thrice.


    The pendulum twitched, wobbled, then committed to a steady counterclockwise spin. No, Alice would not be harmed.


    I exhaled, tension draining like water from a cracked jar. Divination¡ªuseful and spooky, in equal measure.


    I moved quickly. Off came the robe, took out a dark blue tunic, dark cloak, ornate mask and leather pants from my closet. My bracer clicked loose, and with a pulse of will, my half-dragon form rippled and snapped into place. Then, summoning mana from deep within, I shifted fully into my dragon form. Process took almost 150 mana points, but my regeneration was fast enough that I wasn¡¯t worried.


    Alright, showtime.


    Tentacles unfurled from my back like lazy serpents, each moving with practiced ease. One grabbed an anti-divination charm from the table, another snatched a handful of potions I¡¯d brewed for emergencies. A third swept up my clothes, and the last coiled around Alice, who promptly averted her gaze, a flustered gesture.


    Weird.


    One by one, I deposited everything into my maw. Perks of being massive¡ªthey all fit like luggage in a suitcase. Alice nestled in last, still radiating that strange embarrassment.


    Belle chirped from her perch, adjusting her little bow tie with a dignified ¡°Squee!¡± Be safe!


    Oh, safe I¡¯d be. With a pulse of mana, the dimensional lamina rippled within me. The world flickered, and I slipped seamlessly into the 4th dimension.

 Chapter 108: Varkaigrad鈥檚 Shadowed Reflection

    The moment my consciousness slithered into the fourth dimension, that old electric thrill crackled through my scales. My eyes did their funky little strobe-light routine¡ªflicker-flicker-whirr¡ªand bam. Reality peeled back like cheap wallpaper, revealing the grimy underlayer where shadows put on suits and play at being solid. Everything from the boring 3D world clung to its doppelg?nger here as smoky afterimages, less objects and more¡­ regrets made visible. Even the walls got performance anxiety, trembling into translucent veils I could sashay through like a phantom with too much confidence.


    Even Belle looked like she¡¯d been dipped in smoke, her edges blurry, her presence less tangible. Couldn¡¯t resist. A rogue tentacle sneak-attack booped her hazy flank. Her silhouette did an interpretive dance of outrage, all puffed-up smoke and silent screeches. I couldn¡¯t hear her, but I¡¯d wager my scaly tail she was letting loose a symphony of agitated squee!s. Worth it.


    Despite the humor, the absence of air struck me again. My Air Sense, usually a comforting stream of whispers feeding me details about my surroundings, fell silent here. Vulnerability pricked at me, like stepping into a room and realizing you¡¯re blindfolded. But it wasn¡¯t enough to deter me¡ªthis wasn¡¯t a place to linger.


    Something dangerous stirred here in Varkaigrad¡¯s shadowed reflection, and every fiber of my being screamed to avoid its notice.


    I unfurled my wings and launched myself forward, slipping through the smoky walls of my room. Outside, the world mirrored itself in ghostly hues. Towering trees stood like spectral sentinels, their forms smudged with that same tangible smoke, their trunks easy to phase through. The alchemy tower¡¯s surrounding barrier shimmered ahead, a faintly glowing boundary. I didn¡¯t stop. I breached it in a heartbeat, its resistance no more than a ripple.


    The upgrade to my dimensional lamina had been a game-changer. Four minutes¡ªthat¡¯s how long I could cling to this eerie plane now before it spat me back into the third dimension. Four precious minutes before the cooldown kicked in. And yet, every second here felt stretched, weighed down by the oppressive fog that clung to everything like a second skin.


    The absence of air here felt thick, like moving through the collective sigh something ancient and forgotten. Tendrils of grey fog curled lazily around me, the ground below felt less like terrain and more like the idea of it. Above, no sky stretched out¡ªjust an endless, muted swirl of gray mist, shifting sluggishly. Buildings and people existed here, their silhouettes warped and half-dissolved, like memories decaying at the edges. It worked, though¡ªthis realm functioned, vital in some inexplicable way, likely propping up the third dimension like scaffolding for reality.


    As I drifted through, a low, eerie bassline thrummed through the fog. Not a bassline. My wings jackknifed shut as I dive-rolled behind a building that tasted like regret. Something slithered past, a shadow wearing too many teeth. My trailing tentacle brushed a 3D pedestrian. Whoops. Enjoy the spontaneous existential shivers, random citizen. Better your latte gets haunted than I become eldritch kibble.


    But it wasn¡¯t the eerie beauty of this place that had my attention locked. No, my eyes narrowed sharply, tracing the source of that unearthly rumble. The sound... it wasn¡¯t just one noise. It was a cacophony¡ªa hundred voices whispering fractured emotions. The hiss of balloons popping, children laughing, adults laughing, the sigh of something ancient. The chirp of an owl melded with the soft rustle of a clown¡¯s oversized shoes, the slap of a ball on the ground, the punchline of a jester¡¯s joke, and the drunken crash of a tankard meeting a table.


    The discordant symphony clawed at my mind like the talons of some deranged maestro.


    It wasn¡¯t sound. It was food poisoning for the soul.


    Nope. Nuh-uh. Not today, Satan¡¯s mixtape. I slapped myself with a tentacle, the sting sharp enough to wrest me free from its pull. Sanity wavered but held, though my hazy form sprouted red, wound-like slashes across my scales in response. My gaze hardened, focusing upward, toward the upper district. That¡¯s when I saw it.


    I clamped my hands over my ears, desperate to block out the rumble, because even that was dangerous. My instincts howled, but I couldn¡¯t stop looking¡ªnot yet. Through the veiling fog, I made out a massive silhouette, its form impossible to define in normal terms. The thing was a nightmare birthed from the debris of a thousand circus troupes. Through the shifting haze, I caught jagged outlines¡ªspine-like boxes stacked at crooked angles, limbs bending in grotesque ways that made a mockery of anatomy. Its edges bled into one another, more suggestion than shape, as if the idea of form itself found this thing offensive.


    And then there were its eyes. Two blazing red orbs burned through the fog, fixed in an eternal, unblinking glare. The mask of a jester stretched across its face¡ªa leering grin carved into a void of meaning. It was always open. Always searching. Its rumble sounded again, twisting my thoughts with the same sick laughter that toyed with my grip on reality.


    Whatever this thing was¡­ it reeked of power. The kind that doesn¡¯t chase you because it doesn¡¯t have to. It just is.


    This wasn¡¯t predator and prey. This was a hurricane noticing your sandcastle.


    My gut churned, instinct screaming with the clarity of a survival mantra: Don¡¯t let it see you.


    I tore my gaze away, resisting the morbid urge to study it further. Even looking at it, even focusing on the minutiae of its laughter-filled rumble, felt like dipping into a game of hide-and-seek with insanity. And let¡¯s be clear, I had zero interest in being it.


    Instead, I turned to the second-most pressing priority: food. Been a while since I ate something good. And oh, the shadowed dimension of this sprawling city was crawling with critters, each one practically begging to be added to the menu. If I was lucky, I could snag a quick snack before this realm spat me back into the third dimension.


    The fog hung in the air. Curling and twisting like ghostly fingers over the cobbled street. I cast a wary glance around; hunger was no excuse for recklessness. The entities prowling these parts weren¡¯t some everyday nuisances¡ªthey were dangerous in ways that defied flesh and blood, their attacks as intangible as a bad memory. Lucky for me, I¡¯d discovered a rather tidy method to dispatch them.


    Slipping through the smoky walls of a nearby house, I let my misty form meld seamlessly with the ether. The residents shuddered as I passed, their senses recoiling instinctively from my touch. But I wasn¡¯t here for them. I glided and darted through walls and halls, half-running, half-hovering, my gaze sharp and searching. It didn¡¯t take long to spot it.


    A high wraith.


    Two elongated claws gleamed in the dim haze, its crimson eyes smouldering like embers in a pit of shadow. The thing¡¯s form was draped in a black, smoke-like shroud that rippled unnaturally, as if it were less cloth and more the absence of light itself. It hung over a man¡¯s silhouette lying limp on a bed, tendrils of shadow spiralling from the figure¡¯s head into the wraith¡¯s gaping maw, feeding its spectral hunger.


    Wraiths, now these bastards were proper nightmares, predator in this grim little ghost dimension. They thrived in pits of despair, feasting on memories, guzzling down dreams, and leaving poor sods as hollowed-out husks. And the worst bit? They could do all this from the 4th dimension, untouchable and smug about it. But what truly put the fear of God, or whatever deity you fancied, into you is their knack for body-jacking. One moment you''re chatting with a mate, next thing you know, you''re dealing with a wraith in a borrowed meat suit.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Thank the Thalador, Varkaigrad had the Iron Pact¡¯s specialist hunters. In Auralia? That job¡¯s for the church¡¯s ghost hunters, trained in their flashy and secret light magic pathways.


    Further adding to that, while in 4th dimension, they were intangible to nearly all forms of magic. Nearly. Except light obviously, but it¡¯s akin to throwing darts blindfolded¡ªone lucky hit in a sea of misses. There were whispers of specialised spells that could track or even yank them back into our plane, but such knowledge was locked behind layers of secrecy and traditions. Useful? Sure. Accessible? Not for me.


    Fortunately, I didn¡¯t need fancy spells to deal with this shadowy glutton.


    Mana surged within me, a tempest alive and crackling through my veins. My tentacles twisted and lashed like serpents, taut as whipcords, their tips aglow with shimmering matrices, poised for devastation. Claws flexed, one weaving the intricate lattice of a Hex Hand, the other sparking with jagged arcs of a lightning bolt matrix. Around me, four smaller matrices blinked into existence along my tentacles, each spinning up miniature lightning bolt arrays, courtesy of my Refined Neural Pathways upgrade for these tentacles. Six spells on the trot? A mere flicker of effort. While others might crumple under the strain of juggling two spells, I barely felt more than a pleasant hum tickling the back of my mind. Ah, the sweet spoils of hard-earned intelligence.


    The wraith¡¯s hellfire eyes flared¡ªoh, it noticed the mana swell. It unleashed a shriek that could curdle sanity. Imagine a symphony of dentist drills, broken glass, and seagulls arguing over a chip. Poor soul, wasting precious seconds on theatrics. By the time it started its ghostly racket, my first spell was already prepped to launch.


    Hex Hand.


    The name echoed through my thoughts, though I stifled the urge to shout it aloud¡ªmy mouth had other business to attend to. The mental trigger fired, and above the wraith, a massive runic circle snapped into place. From its centre, a claw of churning shadow burst forth, descending with all the subtlety of a cathedral collapsing in on itself. The wraith¡¯s screech twisted into a guttural roar, an unholy din that rattled through my skull. I winced as red gashes tore across my spectral form, a rather grim reminder of what proximity to its fury could cost.


    No matter. The remaining five spells hummed, their matrices alight with gathered mana. A flicker of focus, and the first spell surged forth.


    Lightning Bolt!


    There was no time for finesse, no luxury to overcharge the attacks. The wraith was already too lethal to risk delay. Lightning flared as my claw and tentacles discharged in unison, bolts streaking through the air in rapid succession. The first strike hit home, carving through the wraith¡¯s smoky shroud with a sharp crack. The rest followed in milliseconds, a relentless barrage that tore a jagged hole in its amorphous chest. The creature writhed, shadow-stuff spilling like smoke from a punctured cauldron. But wraiths don¡¯t die; they just get pissy.


    Survival had sharpened them, too.


    A ripple of force erupted from the wraith, a pulse of raw, alien energy rippling from the depths of the 4th dimension. My Hex Hand shattered as the pulse hit, its intricate runes crumbling to spectral dust. The backlash struck my mind like a smith¡¯s hammer, a skull-splitting migraine that blurred my vision and set my claws twitching.


    The wraith wasted no time. It screeched again and lunged, claws outstretched, moving faster than I¡¯d reckoned. Its jagged talons cut through the air, aimed squarely at my centre.


    No time to dodge.


    I twisted just enough to shift my torso, letting the wraith¡¯s claws rake across one of my wings instead. Pain erupted, a searing, white-hot fire as the edges of its shadowy talons sliced clean through, leaving part of my wing disintegrated in their wake. My jaw clenched, the tentacles snapping back defensively, already reforming their matrices as my mind raced to process the situation.


    Would¡¯ve been far simpler to let my fire gland loose and torch its miserable, incorporeal form into oblivion. But no, not today.


    With a mental flick, I activated the lightning bolt matrix in my right claw. This wasn¡¯t just a quick spark¡ªan additional rune flared to life, its lines glowing as I channeled raw power into the spell. Arcs of lightning danced wildly, brightening and crackling louder with every passing moment. The wraith hesitated, its hazy crimson eyes narrowing, clearly aware that this wasn¡¯t a normal bolt.


    That¡¯s right. Watch carefully.


    It lunged¡ªslower now, wounded arrogance dragging its shadow-ass. Mistake. My claw carved a vicious arc, unleashing the Lightning Slash. The spell erupted like a cleaver of pure energy, carving through the wraith¡¯s midsection.


    It howled, the sound raw and grating as its form split in two, only to snap back together moments later. But the damage was done. Its movements turned sluggish, erratic. Tendrils of shadow oozed from the gaping wound, curling thickly into the air, while its crimson eyes dimmed to sad campfire embers.


    Time to press the advantage.


    My tentacles darted forward, two snapping into place as I cast Snare Bind, a dark mana spell meant for immobilization. Glowing chains of energy burst from the runes, coiling around the wraith¡¯s limbs and torso. The remaining tentacles followed suit, constricting its thrashing form further as they plunged into the wraith, releasing the disruptive charge of residual 4th-dimensional energy stored within them.


    That¡¯s the beauty of the upgrade, now they didn¡¯t just bind; they corrupted, disrupting foreign mana at its core. Disruption mode: engaged. Mana corruption so vile, it¡¯d make a demon blush. The wraith thrashed in agony, its screeches devolving into guttural wails as the invasive energy tore through it.


    But it wasn¡¯t done yet.


    With a desperate lash, its remaining claw slashed at the bindings. The first chain shattered, then the second. I felt a sharp pang in my tentacles as the claws gnashed against them, and I instinctively pulled them back, grimacing. Not wasting a second, I lashed out with brute force, slamming the wraith hard enough to fling it across the chamber.


    The bindings were breaking. Desperation radiated from it like a blistering heatwave. It was preparing something¡ªsomething big.


    Not that I was about to let it.


    My left claw flared with the formation of a new matrix. A Lightning Bolt, this time overcharged to its limit. The wraith was drained now, its movements sluggish and its power waning. This time, I¡¯d see it through.


    The matrix crackled, arcs of energy condensing as the spell roared to life.


    It lunged again, coiling itself into a single, desperate strike¡ªa spear of pure darkness hurtling my way. A last-ditch gambit, either to finish me off or carve itself an escape.


    Perfect.


    Instead of dodging, I stepped into its trajectory, meeting it head-on. My tentacle slammed squarely into its center mass with a satisfying THWACK, hurling it back like a discarded rag doll.


    Showtime.


    My claws crackled, the familiar burn of an overcharged spell igniting once more. I aimed carefully, the energy surging up my arm, and¡ªBOOM!


    LIGHTNING BOLT!


    The explosion ripped through the wraith¡¯s form, light searing through its shadowy sinews and burning it alive from the inside out. It screamed¡ªoh, did it scream¡ªa symphony of dying darkness, twisting and writhing before collapsing in on itself like smoke sucked into a vacuum. When the light faded, only a charred, brittle husk remained.


    The smell hit my nostrils, and I couldn¡¯t stop my mouth from watering.


    ¡°Mmm¡­ extra crispy.¡±


    Dinner was served.


    [You have slain a Level 16 Tenebris High Wraith (IV).]


    [Experience Points acquired.]


    But as I took a step back, I staggered. My chest heaved, each breath scraping against the edges of exhaustion. Hah¡­ that little dance had drained more mana than I¡¯d anticipated. My wings¡ªstill smarting from their earlier tears¡ªthrobbed in phantom pain, but it was worth it. The fight was over.


    I glanced at the man slumped on the bed, his limp form rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. He was awake, sort of, but frozen. The wraith¡¯s work hadn¡¯t quite finished before I¡¯d interrupted. Lucky bastard.


    Before I could stew on it, the system chimed again.


    [Alignment activities detected! Experience Points acquired!]


    [Level increased: 18 ¡ú 19.]


    [Strength +6, Durability +3, Intelligence +6, Willpower +3.]


    Wait. What? Saving this guy counted as an ¡°alignment activity¡±? Did frying a wraith while he wheezed in bed count as me passing judgment? What¡¯s next, community service credits for stabbing cultists?


    I mean, hey, if the system said so, who was I to argue? My grin stretched wide enough to split my face.


    Still, no time to dawdle. The dimensional lamina was thinning, its fatigue tugging at me. Any second now, it¡¯d hurl me back into the 3D world like a guard fed up with my nonsense. The fight had taken longer than expected¡ªI¡¯d nearly lost track of time.


    My claw pulsed with a dark mana matrix as I materialized behind the panicked man. A quick sleep spell¡ªsimple, neat, effective. He crumpled like a marionette with its strings cut, snoring before he even hit the mattress. Now, finally, it was feast time!

 Interlude 3.2: Whisper

    There were certain things Lysska had come to both loathe and grudgingly appreciate during her formative years in the lower district of Varkaigrad. After all, it was a place so tangled and treacherous it could twist even the straightest of spines into survivalists or well¡­ corpses.


    The upper-district folk, with their manicured hands and perfumed disdain, had given it a name, dripping with condescension: Shadow¡¯s Warren. A fitting title, she thought, for the district''s labyrinthine sprawl of sagging shanties and narrow alleys teeming with those allegedly too poor to afford even the middling misery of the middle district. Here, poverty wasn¡¯t just a lack of coin but a predator that hunted in packs: hunger, despair, and betrayal.


    Lysska adjusted a stray strand of dark hair in the cracked mirror beside her ground-floor window¡ªher perch overlooking the winding streets below. This was her ¡°office,¡± such as it was, where she offered her services as a self-proclaimed detective. The title lent a veneer of respectability to her otherwise questionable activities, and the coins it brought in weren¡¯t unwelcome either. In Shadow¡¯s Warren, every coin earned came at someone else¡¯s expense. She was simply better at stacking her expenses on other people¡¯s backs.


    Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, the corners of her lips curving into a faint smile, as if she could hear some distant, secret melody carried on the wind. She couldn¡¯t, of course¡ªnot literally¡ªbut there was always music to the chaos if you knew how to listen.


    The notes were the shouts of hagglers in the market. The scrape of boots on cobblestones. The muffled whispers of deals struck in shadowed alcoves. Lysska had long since learned to play her part in this cacophony, her ears and eyes attuned to it all, not unlike a spider in the middle of its web.


    A volcanic groan erupted behind her.


    ¡°WHISPER! I¡¯M BORED!¡±


    Lysska turned, slow as a blade being unsheathed, and pinned her ¡°apprentice¡± with a look that could curdle milk. Vyra¡ªa hurricane in fox-form¡ªwas flopped across the moth-eaten sofa, tossing a grubby ball of twine at the ceiling. Her ears twitched with the restless energy of a squirrel.


    ¡°Vyra,¡± Lysska drawled, voice smoother than a grave digger¡¯s shovel, ¡°how many times must I carve this into your skull? Whisper stays in the shadows. Use it in the light, and we¡¯ll be picking new names in the morgue.¡±


    ¡°But Whisper¡¯s got flair!¡± Vyra lobbed the ball harder, narrowly avoiding a hanging lamp that hadn¡¯t worked since the last plague. ¡°Sounds like a ghost who steals secrets. Lysska just sounds like a sneeze.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. Because Vyra¡ªa name that literally means ¡®chaos¡¯¡ªis the pinnacle of subtlety.¡±


    ¡°Exactly! I¡¯m aspirational.¡± The girl grinned, all teeth and trouble. ¡°You¡¯re just¡­crunchy.¡±


    Lysska¡¯s eyebrow arched. ¡°Crunchy.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know. Like a burnt biscuit. All ¡®ooh, mystery¡¯ on the outside, but really just bitter and hard to swallow.¡±


    ¡°Remind me why I haven¡¯t sold you to the circus yet?¡±


    ¡°Because no one else tolerates your tragic lack of joie de vivre.¡± Vyra flopped backward, tail flicking like a metronome counting down to disaster. ¡°Also, I¡¯m adorable.¡±


    Vyra wilted under Lysska¡¯s glacial stare, her fox ears flattening like guilty flags. ¡°C¡¯mon, who¡¯s even listening?¡± she muttered, picking at a loose thread on the sofa. ¡°The roaches? The ghosts?¡±


    Lysska¡¯s smile was a sickle. ¡°The roaches are the ghosts. They¡¯ve seen more murders than the enforcers.¡± She tapped her temple, her voice dropping to a velvet snarl. ¡°Assume every wall has ears, every puddle has eyes, and every shadow¡¯s got a price. That¡¯s how you live past twenty in this gutter.¡±


    Even as she spoke, her consciousness split like fractured glass. Through the greasy lens of a crow¡¯s gaze, she watched the market square¡ªa butcher haggling over rat-meat, a beggar¡¯s coinpurse vanishing into a urchin¡¯s sleeve. Beneath her boots, another feathered sentinel tracked the slosh-slosh of a pickpocket wading through sewage, while a third crow circled high, mapping the Warren¡¯s jagged skyline.


    Her murder, she called them¡ªnot a flock, but a jury of spies. A lucky stroke of enlightenment had provided her with these unseen eyes and ears. Now these were her edge in a world where information was the only currency that mattered.


    Of course, Lysska would never share the full extent of her abilities with Vyra¡ªor anyone else, for that matter. Trust was a double-edged blade in a city like Varkaigrad, where loyalty was a currency spent far too quickly. A hint here, a breadcrumb there¡ªthat was enough. Anything more, and trust would curdle into expectation, which inevitably soured into disappointment. And disappointment? That led to betrayal, as sure as the sun rose over the upper districts.


    She reached beneath the counter, pulling out a stack of ink-stained papers that begged for her attention. Records to review, leads to follow, discrepancies to resolve¡ªa detective¡¯s work was never glamorous. Especially in Varkaigrad, where every solved mystery seemed to unravel into three new ones, each more tangled than the last. Care was not just a virtue here; it was a survival skill.


    And lately, something was stirring. Lysska could feel it in the air, in the whispers exchanged in darkened alleys and the wary glances traded across crowded squares. Questions stacked upon questions, each answer revealing another layer of rot beneath the surface. It was the sort of storm that could rip through the city like a wild beast, and Lysska intended to be ready when it hit. More importantly, she needed to ensure the few people she cared about didn¡¯t end up as collateral damage. In a city of millions, it was far too easy to become a nameless casualty¡ªforgotten and useless, swept away in the tide of chaos.


    Her gaze flicked across the room, taking in her office. It certainly symbolized Lysska¡¯s pragmatism and Vyra¡¯s lack of it. Two mismatched, lumpy sofas dominated the center of the room, their stuffing escaping in tufts. The counter by the window served as both workspace and barrier, separating Lysska from the street outside. To one side, a cramped kitchen offered little more than a sputtering stove and a stack of unwashed dishes. Vyra lounged on one of the sofas, her lanky form draped across it like an abandoned marionette, tossing her ball in increasingly elaborate arcs.


    ¡°Do you ever do anything useful?¡± Lysska asked, her eyes still scanning the papers in her hand.


    Vyra snatched the ball from the air, her ears twitching like annoyed metronomes. ¡°Useful is boring,¡± she declared, as if sentencing the word to the gallows. ¡°Exciting¡¯s got spice. When do we ignite something?¡± Her tail lashed¡ªthen froze. ¡°Wait! Venom. You promised we¡¯d recruit that poison-happy cinnamon bun!¡±


    Lysska¡¯s smile was a blade balanced on its edge. ¡°She¡¯s on the menu,¡± she said, setting down her papers. ¡°But that girl is not a stray you beckon with sausages. Approach wrong, and she¡¯ll fillet your goodwill like a trout.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ we wait?¡± Vyra flopped back, exasperated. ¡°Waiting¡¯s just dying with extra steps.¡±


    ¡°Patience isn¡¯t virtue¡ªit¡¯s bait.¡± Lysska leaned back, chair creaking like a hanged man¡¯s swing. ¡°She went fang-first at Iron¡¯s crew. That¡¯s either suicidal or strategic. Either way, she¡¯ll circle back. Hungry things always do.¡±


    Her gaze drifted to the window. Truthfully, Lysska was intrigued. Venom wasn¡¯t just a potential recruit; she was a puzzle, waiting to be solved. Lysska trusted her instincts, and her instincts told her this girl was more than just another street-level brawler.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°She¡¯ll come,¡± Lysska murmured, more to the shadows than Vyra. ¡°And when she does, we¡¯ll see if she¡¯s a spark or a fuse.¡±


    Vyra snorted. ¡°You¡¯re insufferably sure. Ever considered a career in fortune-telling? ¡®Madame Lysska, Mistress of the Obvious!¡¯¡±


    ¡°Doubt¡¯s a luxury,¡± Lysska said, flicking a dried tea stain off her sleeve. ¡°We¡¯re in the discount district, darling. We barter in certainty.¡±


    ¡°Ugh. Your metaphors need a funeral.¡± Vyra lobbed the ball at a cockroach scuttling up the wall. ¡°Define ¡®exciting,¡¯ then. If it¡¯s not alley shankings or sewer surprises¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªit¡¯s staying alive,¡± Lysska cut in, voice sharp as a garrote. ¡°Excitement¡¯s a pyre, Vyra. Stand too close, and you¡¯ll burn. Dance too long, and you¡¯ll choke on the smoke.¡±


    Vyra rolled her eyes so hard her skull rattled. ¡°Drama queen.¡±


    ¡°Says the girl who named her axe Sparkles.¡±


    The truth was, Lysska got it. She really did. Vyra¡¯s restlessness was a tangible thing, buzzing around the room like an insect you couldn¡¯t swat. But the past few days? They¡¯d been what Lysska generously labeled as eventful.


    First, there was Iron and his gang, who¡¯d started shifting into their beast forms with a disturbing frequency and even more disturbing recklessness. Subtlety? Not on their agenda. They were picking fights with every other gang in town, trampling on the unspoken rule to keep their chaos under wraps. Then there was that strange incident in the market square¡ªsome attack that didn¡¯t add up. And the disappearances? Fifty children gone from the lower district, snatched up like smoke.


    Also the Elven ambassador from Lithrindel, supposedly cozying up to the FrostFang sect¡¯s ruling family¡ªone of the five who held the reins of Varkaigrad. The city was a stew of unrest, bubbling just shy of boiling over.


    And as if that wasn¡¯t enough, shadows from Lysska¡¯s own past had started slinking into the picture. She and Vyra had been running for a while now, fleeing a life they¡¯d both outgrown and barely survived. The organization that had once trained them, molded them, turned them into tools¡ªit was resurfacing. And Lysska had burned more than one bridge with them, running off with a few of their tightly held secrets in the process.


    She shook her head, snapping herself out of it. As long as they kept their heads down and their presence as inconspicuous as a whisper, they could stay ahead of trouble. She had the upper hand here in Varkaigrad. Years of careful groundwork had given her an advantage.


    On the surface, she was just a clever detective. A dogged investigator who knew how to dig where it hurt. But beneath that mask? She was Whisper, a member of a gang that moved like smoke through the city¡¯s underbelly. That name came with its own weight, its own set of complications. Juggling her double life took skill, cunning, and a flirtation with luck. Fortunately, Lysska had all three in spades, or so she liked to believe. Luck, though? That one was a capricious partner.


    ¡°Quiet¡¯s a gift,¡± she said, quill scratching across a report about the third missing child this week. ¡°Enjoy the hush. The storm¡¯s always louder when you hear it coming.¡±


    As if summoned by her words, the faint chime of the bell above the office door rang. Lysska¡¯s head snapped up. A figure stumbled inside, hurried and nervous.


    The boy stumbled in like a breathless ghost, no older than fifteen or sixteen. His oversized robe hung loose on his wiry frame, and the round hat perched atop his head didn¡¯t suit him in the slightest. Borrowed? Stolen? Both options danced through Lysska¡¯s mind. Maybe scavenged from someone who wouldn¡¯t be needing it anymore. Another mental note filed away for later.


    But she recognized him¡ªoh, she remembered this scrappy little survivor. She¡¯d helped him once, yanking his sorry hide out of trouble when an Iron Pact enforcer had him cornered for nosing around the wrong places.


    Before Lysska could greet him with some biting remark, the boy blurted out, ¡°Help me!¡± His voice came in a frantic hiss, and only then did Lysska notice his face¡ªflushed, panting, fear bleeding into his wide eyes.


    Vyra leapt from the sofa, tension snapping through her like a taut wire.


    Lysska¡¯s gaze flicked upward, catching a murder of crows circling in the distance. Through the eyes of the flock, she spotted the threat¡ªa lone enforcer cutting a direct path toward her shop. Well, wasn¡¯t that convenient?


    With a resigned sigh, Lysska turned to Vyra and signed for her to move.


    Vyra grabbed the boy, hauling him toward the back of the office. She shoved him into the farthest closet and slammed it shut. A quick thread of mana sparked to life, activating the runes etched into the doorframe.


    Moments later, the front door swung open with an ominous creak. No knock, no hesitation. A man stepped in, carried by a hovering sword like he had someplace far more important to be. His flowing blue robes screamed self-importance, and the Force spell he used to let himself in announced he wasn¡¯t big on formalities. His face was all hard angles and disdain, carved out of pure arrogance.


    Enforcer.


    Lysska rose, her smile a honed blade. ¡°Welcome to Luminous Inquiries,¡± she purred, the shop¡¯s lie dripping like honey. ¡°Lost? Robbed? Or just here to admire the d¨¦cor? How may I help you?¡±


    The man sneered at her, the kind of expression reserved for something you¡¯d scrape off your shoe. His eyes swept the room, and it was clear he expected to find filth¡ªjust by glaring hard enough.


    ¡°Keeping that mouth of yours shut,¡± he spat, ¡°would be a start.¡± He brushed past her, his shoulder clipping hers¡ªa calculated insult.


    Lysska¡¯s smile didn¡¯t falter, but internally she rolled her eyes hard enough to rattle her skull. Ancestors, the arrogance. Iron Pact enforcers were a special breed of audacious, especially in the Lower District. Strutting in here like he owned the place, alone, without a hint of backup? Bold move. A move that would¡¯ve had him groveling if she were still Whisper, not Detective Lysska. Too bad for him. Too bad for her, too, because this charade of hers had its limits. Patience, she chided. Detectives don¡¯t disembowel guests. Usually.


    Vyra bristled at his tone, but Lysska placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her before the girl could snap. Vyra pouted but stayed put.


    ¡°Sir,¡± Lysska crooned, ¡°let¡¯s not let posture overshadow purpose. What exactly are you hunting?¡± She flicked her council badge onto the counter, its gilded seal catching the dim light. ¡°Official business, of course. We¡¯re all law-abiding citizens here.¡±


    The enforcer glanced at the badge as if it were a rat turd. ¡°A boy,¡± he barked. ¡°Fifteen. Sixteen. Dressed like a gutter-born fool. He came here.¡± His hovering sword drifted closer, its edge humming with restrained violence. ¡°Hand him over, and I¡¯ll let you keep your tongues. For now.¡±


    Lysska tilted her head, smile sharpening to a scalpel¡¯s edge. ¡°How magnanimous. But alas, my ledger¡¯s full of missing socks and cheating spouses¡ªnot wayward urchins. Perhaps you¡¯ve¡­ misplaced your quarry?¡±


    ¡°Shut your fucking mouth!¡± he roared, spittle flying.


    Lysska¡¯s tongue flicked over her lips, her patience wearing thin. One wrong move and this man wouldn¡¯t walk out of here alive. But no¡ªthis wasn¡¯t the time. There was too much she didn¡¯t know yet, and her every instinct screamed to tread carefully.


    A flicker of mana rippled through her, and her eyes glowed faintly crimson as she assessed him. His core blazed in her vision¡ªyellow. Mid-yellow, if she had to guess. She frowned inwardly. That explained his overconfidence. New to the district, maybe? Someone who only operated in the cushy Upper District, where danger wore silken gloves. That¡¯d explain the disdain¡ªthe utter lack of awareness of just how much peril lurked in these streets.


    The enforcer stalked the room, robes hissing as he upturned crates and kicked aside debris with performative disgust. He crouched to peer under the stove¡ªas if the boy were a lost teaspoon¡ªthen flung open the closet door with a flourish.


    Nothing. Just stacks of yellowed case files and Vyra¡¯s half-eaten jam sandwich.


    His jaw tightened, and a frustrated growl escaped him. With a glare sharp enough to slice glass, he spun on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.


    The moment the shop settled into silence, Lysska exhaled, her smirk returning as she glanced at Vyra. ¡°See? Told you the quiet wouldn¡¯t last.¡±


    The crows above tilted their heads, black eyes gleaming as they watched the enforcer¡¯s figure shrink into the distance. Only when he was well out of earshot did Lysska let out another subtle pulse of mana. The runes on the closet door shimmered faintly before fading away, their magic dispelling with a soft hum.


    The boy stumbled out, coughing and panting like he¡¯d just sprinted through a battlefield. Not that Lysska could blame him¡ªthose enchantments weren¡¯t exactly designed with human comfort in mind. Once activated, they sealed off the inside space completely, swapping it for an isolated dimension. Perfect for hiding secrets, less so for, you know, breathing.


    Lysska folded her arms, looking him over with a sharp, unimpressed gaze. ¡°Well, well. We meet again. Although I¡¯d have preferred a reunion with fewer theatrics.¡±


    The boy opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word in, Lysska¡¯s expression shifted. Her eyes glazed slightly, her focus slipping elsewhere, as if she were hearing something beyond the room. A second later, the glassy look vanished, her sharp gaze snapping back to him.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to have a little chat when I return,¡± she said curtly. ¡°For now, stay here. Lay low. Vyra¡ªentertain our guest.¡±


    Vyra grinned, producing a deck of cards edged in what looked suspiciously like dried blood. ¡°Ever played ¡®Knifejack¡¯? You¡¯ll love Rule Three: Amputations are wild.¡±


    The boy¡¯s whimper was cut short as Lysska swept toward the door. Her steps were quick, her movements deliberate. ¡°I¡¯ve got urgent business to attend to,¡± she called over her shoulder.


    The boy blinked at her, confused. ¡°Wait, where are you going?¡±


    Lysska didn¡¯t answer. She didn¡¯t need to. Her thoughts were already miles ahead.


    Miss elusive Venom had finally decided to crawl out of her hole.

 Chapter 109: Hello, Whisper

    Being a detective was fun and all, but you know what would¡¯ve been more fun? Having one of those sleek, hovering broadswords. Lysska owned a few¡ªwell, "salvaged" from some less fortunate souls¡ªbut actually using them? That required a permit. And these days, unless you were part of the Iron Pact, getting your hands on one of those precious documents was harder than prying teeth from a drakkari. Poor her. Instead of soaring dramatically through the skies, she was tiptoeing through the grimy streets of Shadow¡¯s Warren.


    And tiptoeing here wasn¡¯t a metaphor. It was an art form. After all, it was an obstacle course designed by a sadist. And Lysska? She navigated it like it was her personal stage. Mud slicks, hidden shards of glass, puddles that might as well have been portals to the underworld, she avoided them all. The key was in the details. The ball of the foot touched down first, then the heel, a smooth roll that kept her balanced even on the uneven cobblestones. Her eyes flicked down often, scanning for the telltale gleam of trouble: oh yes, there, a glossy, worn stone here, a treacherous crack there, the slight discoloration in the muck that hinted at a shoe-swallowing abyss.


    Trash piles loomed like deceptive sirens, promising stability but delivering sharp glass or rats with attitudes. Lysska weaved past them, pirouetting with just enough flair to avoid splattering her robe. A loose drain grate? Weight shifted instinctively, steps recalibrated in an instant. No slips, no missteps, no unfortunate plunges into district¡¯s dubious underbelly.


    Every movement was deliberate. Every decision calculated. It was an art, navigating these streets.


    Still, while she might¡¯ve loved to take a scenic detour and admire the chaos of the district¡ªwatching shady deals go down, dodging pickpockets, oh those were fun and generally soaking in the vibrant dysfunction¡ªwork called. And when work called, Lysska answered.


    She made her way to the main market square, where she could grab a ride with one of the licensed carpet fliers. Their owners were arrogant and overpriced, but they were fast. Waving a hand with a casual flick of her wrist, a carriage rolled to a stop beside her, its driver tipping his hat with the obligatory politeness that came with ferrying ¡°respectable¡± passengers. Lysska climbed in gracefully smoothing her robe as her mind wandered elsewhere.


    Through the keen, curious gaze of a crow wheeling above, Lysska observed the silver-haired girl darting through the crooked streets below. The mask gave her away at once¡ªVenom. A smirk ghosted across Lysska¡¯s lips as she noted the peculiar way the girl moved. A sly little gambit, softening her presence just enough to slither past notice. Cute, in its way.


    But then, there it was¡ªa hitch in the flow. Someone else was on her tail. Lysska¡¯s brow furrowed as she zeroed in on the figure: a bald man, his neck emblazoned with a crest tattoo. A small-time thug, no doubt, angling for some ill-advised intimidation. Venom¡¯s cloak, polished and pricey, probably whispered promises of a good haul.


    Lysska¡¯s smirk flatlined. Ven was veering into an alley¡ªan alley¡ªin the Warren. For a ghost who supposedly knew how to vanish, the girl had the survival instincts of a drunk moth at a bonfire. Rule one of gutter logic: alleys here were either ambush buffets or mass graves. You didn¡¯t stroll in unless you owned stock in coffin-makers.


    The crows swept ahead, mapping the killbox, while Lysska slumped in her carriage, fingers drumming a funeral march on the armrest. She¡¯d almost decided this was not her circus¡ªwhen the bald goon pounced.


    Venom¡¯s retaliation was¡­ educational.


    First, a knee to the crown jewels so vicious Lysska¡¯s crows winced in unison. Then her claws snicked out with switchblade grace, anchoring the thug¡¯s scalp to her fist. What followed was a percussive masterpiece: his forehead clacked against cobblestones in a rhythm that¡¯d make a bard weep. By the third verse, he was snoring in the key of concussion.


    And then¡ªbecause subtlety was for corpses¡ªVenon treated his torso like a tavern table, executing a victory shimmy that¡¯d shame a carnival dancer. She relieved him of his dignity and coinpurse, then sauntered off like she¡¯d just watered a geranium.


    Lysska¡¯s eyebrows attempted a vacation in her hairline as her mouth opened. Well. That escalated.


    Then her mouth snapped shut, her smirk tugging back into place¡ªuntil it faltered. Venom had stopped, her mask lifting just enough to reveal a sharp-edged grin, her eyes boring into the crow Lysska had been using as her proxy.


    And then, she spoke. Not loudly, but clearly enough that Lysska could read the movement of her lips with practiced ease, the way a good detective learns to do.


    ¡°Hello, Whisper.¡±


    ***


    I screwed up somewhere along the way¡ªno denying it. First, this random bald bastard decided to get bold, tailing me like he had a death wish. The nerve! For a second, I thought maybe he was one of those shady kidnappers Vasilisa mentioned, the kind targeting her business and snatching up her apprentices. Maybe my mask wasn¡¯t doing its job, what with my silver hair still peeking out, and the hood didn¡¯t exactly flatten the faint outline of my horns. Subtle? Not my strong suit.


    But no, turns out he was just some thug sniffing around for an easy payday. The ¡°fight¡± lasted three seconds. Groin kick (classic), claw-assisted headbanging (therapeutic), and a victory shimmy (non-negotiable¡ªdragon code, clause 12: Always dance on their pride). Sue me. Even Lotte used to do pirouettes over scorched bandits. Probably. She must have!If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Where I really botched things, though, was the crows. Should¡¯ve kept my Air Sense dialed in for birds, but nope. It was Alice who pointed out the weirdness, chirping in her oh-so-insightful tone, ¡°Those crows carry echoes of an undercurrent¡ªfar away, faint, but definitely not their own.¡± Translation: someone was spying through the feathered freaks.


    And I didn¡¯t need a second guess to figure out who. That vision I got through divination made it crystal clear. My hunch was bang on. But now she¡¯d seen me¡ªsaw me take down Baldie McPunching Bag and, worse, caught me doing my victory wiggle over his unconscious body. Arghhh.


    Still, I couldn¡¯t let her think I was some unhinged lunatic. So, after hashing it out with Alice, I decided to let Whisper know I was onto her. You know, to show I had intentions. Smart ones. Totally not panic-driven.


    ¡°Arghh! Did I do it right, Alice?!¡± I grumbled, weaving through the crowd. Air Sense pinged no crows nearby, but paranoia had me hyper-vigilant. ¡°What if I scared her off? What if crows are her secret weapon and now she thinks I¡¯m an enemy?!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re overthinking this, Mistress,¡± Alice replied from her now comfy perch on my shoulder.


    ¡°Overthinking?! Then explain why there are no crows tailing us anymore!¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, I did divine that this would be favorable to you,¡± she mused, before adding, ¡°Although, come to think of it, I didn¡¯t specify how it would be favorable. Maybe avoiding Whisper altogether would¡¯ve been the better outcome?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not helping!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just stating the facts, Mistress.¡±


    It had been half an hour already, and I¡¯d managed to wander my way down to one of the lower district¡¯s many market squares. Every time I came down here, it was like the city itself was whispering, Hey, want to get mugged today?


    Also, Fifth pickpocket incoming¡ª I sidestepped, heel crunching their toe. ¡°This cloak¡¯s a liability. I¡¯m trading it for chainmail. Or fire. At least fire¡¯s honest.¡±


    ¡°Chainmail lacks panache,¡± Alice said. ¡°And fire lacks pockets.¡±


    ¡°So does a corpse, which is where I¡¯m headed if¡ª¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s here.¡±


    Alice¡¯s voice cut through my rant, sharp as a scalpel. I froze. The crowd¡¯s roar muffled to a hum. ¡°Where?¡± I whispered.


    ¡°Three paces behind. Left. Undercurrents of excitement, amusement and impending sarcasm.¡±


    Ah, great. Just fantastic. I straightened up immediately, ignoring Alice entirely as my Air Sense flared out, a subtle pulse that mapped the air currents and movement around me. Sure enough, I caught the faint outline of a tall Faerin directly behind me. Her stature matched what I¡¯d seen before. Now the question was: do I call her out? Or let her make the first move?


    Well, screw subtlety. I¡¯d already surprised her once today; might as well keep the streak alive.


    Slowly, I lifted my mask and glanced back, intending to flash her a sly grin that said, I see you. What I didn¡¯t expect was to be the one caught off guard.


    She wasn¡¯t wearing a mask. Which was odd, considering anonymity was practically a prerequisite for the gangs operating down here. Her hair spilled in smooth waves, and her robe¡ªblack and red, detailed with embroidery of vixens twisting and dancing¡ªwas far too pristine for the lower district. Her amber, slitted eyes were locked on me, and the slight curl of her lips revealed a hint of sharp canines.


    The sight sent a little shiver down my spine, but I kept my cool, baring my own fangs in a toothy smile and giving her a casual wave.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± Whisper purred, gliding nearer with the grace of a stalking panther. Her voice curled like smoke. ¡°To catch me unawares once is luck. Twice? That¡¯s either genius¡­ or madness.¡±


    ¡°A pleasure, Whisper,¡± I replied, matching her cadence.


    She tilted her head, the ghost of a smirk sharpening. ¡°Lysska. Save the title for when the masks return to the stage.¡± With that, she turned and slipped into the throng, three foxian tails swaying, leaving me to exchange a glance with Alice. The doll¡¯s tiny nod was all the endorsement I needed.


    She¡¯d approached me despite my earlier theatrics, so clearly, she had some kind of motive. And so did I.


    This city was a labyrinth of secrets, and I didn¡¯t have nearly enough answers. Sure, hitching my wagon to someone with Whisper¡¯s¡ªor Lysska¡¯s¡ªreputation wasn¡¯t exactly the safest move. Ruthless gang connections didn¡¯t scream trustworthy. But Lotte¡¯s cryptic advice and Alice¡¯s divinations had pointed me here, to this golden thread of opportunity.


    And I¡¯d be a damn fool to let it slip through my claws.


    So, I did just that¡ªtrailed Lysska through the crowd like a shadow, weaving through the jostling bodies with practiced ease. She eventually turned into a narrow, crowded alleyway branching off the square. I kept close, my Air Sense flickering in soft pulses to map the space around me.


    She stopped in front of a two-story building squeezed awkwardly between two taller, more imposing neighbors. The facade bore years of wear: cracked plaster, weathered stone, and a sign above the door that read Lily¡¯s Charms and Curios. Judging by the peeling paint and shuttered windows, it had long since retired from its days as a shop.


    Without hesitation, Lysska pushed open the creaking door and stepped inside. I followed, careful to keep my footsteps light.


    The interior was an entirely different story. Gone was the decrepit storefront vibe; the space felt more like an office¡ªor maybe a hideout¡ªthan a home. The smell of stale coffee lingered in the air, undercut by old paper and a faint wisp of incense. The mismatched furniture gave the room a chaotic charm: battered sofas, a scuffed table that looked one bad argument away from collapse, and a towering shelf stuffed with books and files. A few clipped papers dangled from strings by the window, fluttering slightly in the draft.


    Off to the side, I caught a glimpse of a tiny kitchen, its counters cluttered with mugs and half-empty containers.


    On one of the sofas lounged Quickpaw¡ªrecognizable even without her mask. That grinning, foxian demeanor and her confident posture were unmistakable. Her face lit up the moment she spotted Lysska and me trailing behind.


    ¡°Back so soon?¡± Quickpaw trilled, juggling a card between her fingers.


    ¡°Efficiency is a virtue,¡± Lysska replied, sweeping toward a cluttered desk. ¡°I trust our guest remained¡­ engaged?¡±


    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s been riveted,¡± Quickpaw crooned, twirling the card into her palm. ¡°Haven¡¯t you, little songbird?¡± The boy sitting across from her¡ªdwarfed by an oversized robe¡ªlooked like he¡¯d rather be anywhere else. His eyes darted to the exit, but his feet stayed rooted. Trapped, not by chains, but by survival¡¯s arithmetic.


    The boy¡¯s throat bobbed. ¡°Y-yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    Quickpaw¡¯s grin turned toward me. ¡°Also, hey, V¡ª¡±


    She didn¡¯t even get the word out before Lysska¡¯s sharp glare cut her off mid-syllable.


    Quickpaw quickly pivoted, her tone all playful innocence. ¡°Ah, who might our new customer be?¡±


    ¡°She lost her cat,¡± Lysska deadpanned, settling into a chair by the cluttered table near the window. She gestured for me to sit as well, and with a shrug, I claimed a spot next to the overly eager Quickpaw.


    ¡°But first,¡± Lysska continued, steepling her fingers as her gaze pinned the boy, ¡°let us attend to your quandary.¡± Her smile softened, honey over steel. ¡°You sought a detective, did you not? Speak freely¡­ we¡¯re all friends here.¡±

 Chapter 110: Trust, My Dear, Is a Slippery Thing

    "Alright, Zoran, out with it," Lysska said, sifting through a mess of papers. "What dumpster fire did you dive into this time to get some enforcer breathing down your neck?"


    The kid¡ªa wiry little rakari, lion-kin with a mop of unruly golden hair¡ªshifted uncomfortably, his yellow eyes darting to me, then to Quickpaw perched nearby, before finally landing back on Lysska. He swallowed hard. "It¡¯s about Greg. He¡¯s¡­ missing."


    Lysska paused mid-sort, one eyebrow arching like a bridge to nowhere. "Greg? Greg Whittaker?" Her voice was part curiosity, part disdain, like she¡¯d just remembered an old recipe she hated but couldn¡¯t help respecting. "Sharp instincts for a human, I¡¯ll give him that. But we¡¯re talking about the same Greg who thought hiring a runaway was sound business strategy?"


    ¡°Intriguing,¡± Alice murmured, her voice a silver thread in my mind. ¡°Her disdain wears too fine a polish. Beneath it¡ªconcern, perhaps? Shall I unravel the undercurrents?¡±


    I gave Alice the faintest shake of my head. No need for her to dig in. Not yet, anyway. This felt like something I could handle. Probably.


    Zoran¡¯s jaw clenched tight, but he let Lysska¡¯s jab pass without a retort. Maybe he was smart enough to know better. Or maybe he wasn¡¯t sure it was a jab. "He didn¡¯t have to hire me," the kid said. "But he did. And now he¡¯s vanished."


    Lysska tilted her head, her quill hovering mid-air. ¡°¡®Vanished¡¯ is a generous term for men who owe debts in every tavern from here to the Spires. Define your absence.¡±


    Zoran took a breath, his hands fidgeting like they wanted something to hold. "Subtle signs. His place¡ªthere were disturbances in mechanisms only we knew about. No sign of him, no messages, no orders. He wasn¡¯t even there when I showed up to report. He wouldn¡¯t just¡­ disappear like that."


    "Maybe he decided babysitting isn¡¯t his calling anymore," Lysska said, twirling the quill between her fingers with indifference. Her eyes, however, narrowed like blades drawn just enough to catch the light. "Or maybe you caught a whiff of enforcers snooping around and decided you¡¯d rather deal with me."


    The kid stiffened at that, his tail twitching in agitation. "I¡¯m not lying. I came to you because you helped me last time." His voice wavered. "A few days ago, I noticed two enforcers following me. They weren¡¯t up to anything good¡ªI could feel it. You helped me shake them. Greg always spoke highly of you, said I should come to you if something felt¡­ off. And now this."


    Lysska¡¯s gaze sharpened as she leaned back in her chair, the quill coming to rest on the desk. She didn¡¯t speak for a moment, her expression distant yet calculating. Meanwhile, my own thoughts churned. Why would enforcers be tracking a kid like this? And why did Zoran seem so oblivious to the fact that Lysska was Whisper herself? Dual identities, layered like armor. It was almost enough to make me feel a touch dishonest wearing my own mask in this room. Almost.


    Not that she¡¯d offered me a glimpse of her ¡°civilian¡± life either. Detective Lysska or Whisper¡ªit didn¡¯t matter which mask she had on. Either way, she played her cards close to the chest. And I¡¯d be lying if I said I didn¡¯t want to ask her about it. But not now. Not with the kid here. Later, when the room was a little less crowded with secrets.


    Before Lysska could get a word in, Alice¡¯s voice cut through my thoughts. ¡°Fascinating.¡±


    I frowned, catching the faint hum of amusement in her tone.


    ¡°The kid¡¯s affinity for water is remarkable, Mistress,¡± Alice continued, her voice almost purring with intrigue. ¡°So strong, in fact, that the element¡¯s underlying concept resonates deeply within him¡ªReflection. He could likely glean a person¡¯s intentions just by studying them. Shame he¡¯s fumbling down the wrong pathway to fully realize it.¡±


    I turned my gaze to Zoran, now seeing him in a slightly different light. I was only just starting to grasp the bigger picture of concepts myself, but Alice seemed to have no qualms about dishing out tidbits. So water held the concept of Reflection, like Lightning aligned with Judgement. Another breadcrumb for the ever-growing pile of things I¡¯d need to grill Alice about later.


    Lysska¡¯s quill twitched in her hand as she finally spoke, her voice dripping with skepticism. "And what makes you so sure Greg¡¯s disappearance is ¡®weird¡¯? Could just be debt collectors finally catching up to him. Or maybe he decided to skip town for some much-needed quiet."


    Zoran fidgeted. His ears twitched. "I had a hunch my run-in with the enforcers was tied to Greg somehow," he started hesitantly. "So I went to his place to check on him. At first glance, everything seemed normal, but Greg was¡­ cautious. Paranoid, even, especially with the case he¡¯d taken on recently."


    He hesitated, as if unsure how much to share, then plunged forward. "Greg had all these tiny safeguards¡ªlayers upon layers of them. Things most people wouldn¡¯t even notice. For instance, the lock on his door wasn¡¯t just a lock. It was keyed to a specific series of knocks, and if done wrong, it would trigger a subtle but noticeable shift in the placement of the carpet inside the entryway. That was disturbed when I got there. His chair by the desk¡ªit was always left at an angle, positioned to make a clear grab for his blade if needed. That was off too. And his files¡­ he always locked them away, but I found one slightly ajar, like someone had rifled through it in a hurry."


    The kid¡¯s voice grew quieter, but his urgency didn¡¯t waver. "I haven¡¯t seen Mr. Whittaker since that day. Something¡¯s happened to him¡ªI know it."


    Lysska leaned back, watching the boy with a narrowed gaze as he continued. "I wanted to report it to the enforcers, but the disappearance hasn¡¯t hit their required time threshold. And the detectives I know in the lower district¡­ they all turned me down. Not enough coin for their liking, I guess." He swallowed hard, and for a moment, his expression softened into something raw and vulnerable. "I tried reaching out to Greg using the methods we¡¯d agreed on¡ªthe drop-off point, the signal¡ªbut nothing. When I checked the spot, there was an enforcer lurking nearby. The moment he saw me, I bolted. He chased me, like he knew exactly where I¡¯d turn."The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Zoran took a steadying breath, his hands balling into fists. "I thought about who I could trust. You came to mind, Miss Lysska. You helped me before when no one else would. My gut told me you¡¯d listen. So I ran here, weaving through the crowds to shake him off, but¡­ he always seemed to know where I was."


    Lysska tapped the quill against her desk, her expression unreadable. "Lurking enforcers. Subtle disturbances. A job that left someone like Greg paranoid. Sounds messy." She tilted her head slightly, her voice laced with curiosity. "Any idea what kind of case he was tangled up in?"


    The kid shook his head. ¡°No idea, Miss Lysska. I just did what I was told¡ªgathered information and nothing more. Mr. Whittaker was always careful about what he let me know, and I didn¡¯t press as long as I got paid for my work.¡±


    Lysska leaned back slightly before pulling out a sheet of paper. ¡°You know how to write?¡±


    Zoran nodded, his ears flicking nervously.


    ¡°Ink every task. Every whisper. Omit nothing¡ªnot even the stench of the slums or the shade of a suspect¡¯s cloak. Memories are puzzle shards; even the dullest glint holds light. Start from about a week before he went missing.¡±


    Quickpaw materialized at Zoran¡¯s elbow, her grin a crescent knife, ¡°Write pretty, little tidepool. Or I¡¯ll help you remember.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡ªI¡¯ll try.¡±


    Without hesitation, Zoran sat down and started scribbling. His hands trembled slightly, the quill scratching the paper in jittery strokes. As he worked, I found my own focus fraying, impatience clawing at me. I had my own needs¡ªspecifically, information about that elusive underground market in the lower district. The one dealing in contraband, illegal ingredients, and rare oddities. It was the last key I needed to make Belle my supplicant using the ritual Lotte had provided. But for now, I shoved those thoughts aside. This wasn¡¯t the time.


    Finally, Zoran set the paper down, his face still pale and taut with anxiety. Lysska tapped her quill against the desk in a slow, deliberate rhythm before speaking. ¡°Now, let¡¯s get to the practicalities: how much are you willing to pay? This job could get messy.¡±


    Zoran¡¯s expression soured, and he reluctantly reached into the folds of his oversized robe. Shaking hands retrieved a small bundle, and when he unwrapped it, I saw five gold coins glinting in the lamplight. Gold Kron. The standard currency of Vraal¡¯Kor. That much gold wasn¡¯t the sort of thing you¡¯d expect from a lower-district kid scraping by. Even the thug I looted today only had two silver Kron to his name.


    The boy placed the coins on the table, his voice strained. ¡°Saved these over two months working for Greg. I was going to buy a few spell scrolls or maybe an elixir to help advance my pathway and core.¡± His shoulders slumped as he added bitterly, ¡°This is all I¡¯ve got. I know it¡¯s not enough, but I¡¯m willing to sign a contract¡ªpay you back with interest, whatever it takes.¡±


    Lysska didn¡¯t reach for the coins right away. Instead, she studied Zoran¡¯s face, her piercing gaze lingering long enough to make him flinch. Finally, she picked up one of the coins, rolling it between her fingers. Then, with a flick of her wrist, it vanished.


    ¡°Gold is a language even corpses understand.¡± She said. ¡°But I prefer¡­ dialects.¡±


    Her hand swept over the table, and the remaining coins disappeared in an instant, leaving Zoran visibly startled. When she opened her palm again, the five coins reappeared in his hands. His jaw dropped.


    ¡°I¡¯ll hunt your ghost,¡± Lysska purred, rising like smoke from a snuffed candle. ¡°In exchange, you¡¯ll render two services¡ªwhen I require them. Within your skills, sans discomfort. Unless,¡± her fangs glinted, ¡°discomfort amuses me.¡±


    She picked up the paper Zoran had written on, her eyes scanning it with a faint smirk. ¡°You¡¯ve got sharp observational skills, better than most. No wonder Greg paid you above the going rate. Keep your gold. Buy the spell scrolls you need. You¡¯ll need them.¡±


    Zoran blinked, teetering between disbelief and relief. Tears pricked at the edges of his yellow eyes, but he quickly brushed them away with the sleeve of his oversized robe. ¡°I¡¯ll leave it to you, then, Miss Lysska,¡± he said, his voice firmer, as though the weight on his chest had lightened just a bit. For the first time, a flicker of hope danced in his gaze.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Lysska said brightly, clapping her hands like she was kicking off a game rather than a likely dangerous investigation. She pulled out a quill and began jotting down the details of the contract. After finishing, she handed it to Zoran, who didn¡¯t even spare the text a glance before signing, his trust¡ªor perhaps desperation¡ªwritten all over his face.


    With a satisfied nod, Lysska set the document aside. ¡°Now that that¡¯s handled, let¡¯s talk about you. If Enforcers are sniffing around, we need to make sure you¡¯re not dangling yourself like bait on a hook.¡±


    Zoran shook his head, his tail swishing behind him. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about me, Miss Lysska. I was just caught off guard this time. I¡¯ll keep my head down and avoid drawing attention. Thank you for your help, truly.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Lysska said as she stood and extended her hand. Zoran hesitated for a split second before shaking it. ¡°I¡¯ll start the investigation right away. Hang tight.¡±


    ¡°Thank you again,¡± Zoran murmured, pulling his robe tightly around himself as he turned toward the door. Outside, the evening had already given way to night, and a thin veil of snow was beginning to fall. The boy stepped into the cold, his figure vanishing into the shadows just as Lysska closed the door behind him.


    For a moment, the room was still. Then Lysska turned to me, her expression shifting into something playful. ¡°Apologies for the delay, Venom,¡± she sighed, draping herself over the desk like a sated panther. ¡°Alas, my talents for multitasking are criminally underappreciated. Do regale me¡ªhow many near-death experiences did you endure from ennui?¡±


    I flinched slightly, not because I was bored¡ªfar from it. If anything, I¡¯d been thoroughly intrigued by the whole exchange. But there was a question burning at the edge of my thoughts, one I couldn¡¯t let go unanswered.


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked, my voice steady but sharp. ¡°Why reveal your face and identity to me? We could¡¯ve kept this behind the masks.¡±


    Lysska¡¯s smile deepened, all vulpine cunning. ¡°Trust, dearheart, is a tango. One partner leads, the other mirrors. You¡¯ve seen my face¡ªnow I¡¯ve glimpsed yours beneath the¡­ masked veneer.¡± She lingered on the word. ¡°Balance. Equity. Chemistry.¡±


    Huh?


    ¡°Chemistry?¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t pout. You¡¯re practically radiating intrigue.¡± She leaned closer, voice dropping to a purr. ¡°A woman of your¡­ talents? You¡¯d have sniffed out my face eventually. I merely saved us the choreography.¡±


    Where the hell was she going with this?


    I crossed my arms. ¡°And if I prefer choreography?¡±


    ¡°Then consider this our opening waltz.¡± She chuckled. ¡°Besides¡ªmasks are stifling. Don¡¯t you crave a little¡­ ventilation, Jade?¡±


    My brain froze. For a second¡ªno, several long, excruciating seconds¡ªit felt like the entire world had stopped spinning. How the hell did she know that?!?

 Chapter 111: Good Gangs, Bad Reputation (Sort of)

    Lysska devoured my stunned expression before I could leash a single sensible thought. ¡°Spare the theatrics, darling,¡± she purred. ¡°Since my feathered tattletales are no secret, I¡¯ll confess: I marveled you missed the crow shadowing your triumphant flutter back to the Alchemy Tower. Curiosity was a mere nibble¡­ until I learned your ¡®poison¡¯ spared those brutes¡¯ lives.¡± Her tongue flicked like a serpent tasting air. ¡°Agony without expiration? A souffl¨¦ of suffering, perfectly bitter. How¡­ inventive.¡±


    Her tone was as much a jab as a compliment, and I bristled at the edge in her words. Well¡­ it wasn¡¯t like I hadn¡¯t heard the horror stories about those gangs. Ruthless. Merciless. The sort of terrors you didn¡¯t cross if you valued your skin. Maybe I¡¯d subconsciously wanted to make a statement, perhaps some petty part of me craved to etch my disdain into their marrow. In hindsight? Cringe-worthy. Sure, I could¡¯ve adjusted the venom¡¯s potency to paralyze them without subjecting them to that exquisite torment, but¡­ well, I didn¡¯t. Why garnish mercy for vultures?


    Lysska smirked, clearly enjoying my discomfort. ¡°After that, the rest was easy. My little eyes slipped inside, and guess what? You weren¡¯t exactly a model of subtlety. No detours. No clever evasive maneuvers. Not even a token attempt at a decoy. Just ditched your clothes and made a beeline for your cozy little home. I expected more, honestly. A zig-zag route, a fake trail, maybe a dramatic ruse with, oh, I don¡¯t know, an illusion of a silver head running the opposite way? Alas.¡± She tsked, tails swishing in mock lament.


    ¡°Pardon my failure to interrogate every sparrow for treason,¡± My words came out defensive, but hey, how was that my fault?


    ¡°And yet, here we are,¡± she said, one of her three foxian tails flicking lazily as she settled back, still studying me like a particularly juicy mystery. ¡°Not only did you figure out you were being watched today, but you traced it back to me. I must say, I¡¯m impressed.¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°We all hoard skeletons, Lysska. Some just rattle louder.¡±


    ¡°Mistress under scrutiny,¡± Alice purred. ¡°Fear, maybe? No, too controlled. Calculating, then.¡±


    I ignored her. Well, mostly. The analysis wasn¡¯t wrong, though she had a knack for stating the obvious. Besides, even if I was reacting, the mask on my face ensured none of it showed. Not that the mask served any purpose other than protecting my oh-so-elaborate fake identity. My old self was buried in the past. Silver hair, crimson eyes, and a slimmer frame than before ensured no one who¡¯d known me back then would recognize me now.


    With a sigh, I reached up and pulled off the mask, letting it fall to my side. Lysska¡¯s grin widened, sharp and full of mischief.


    ¡°Uhh, you¡¯ve got quite the innocent face for someone who pulled off something so sadistic,¡± Quickpaw quipped from somewhere behind me, and I nearly jumped. How had I forgotten she was even there?


    Lysska¡¯s laugh spilled into the room, a deep, velvety chuckle that slithered down my spine like a whisper. ¡°Innocence wears irony well. Though the ballads paint you fiercer¡ªlone argent siren sinking twin crime fleets? The tavern tales are¡­ mouthwatering.¡±


    Seemed like the grapevine had already wrapped its tendrils around my existence, but truth be told, I didn¡¯t care much for the flavor of their stories. Gossip was cheap, and time wasn¡¯t. I cut through the pleasantries, steering us toward the reason I¡¯d come here in the first place. Belle¡¯s ritual couldn¡¯t wait, and I needed to ensure my little Badger had enough teeth to fend for herself.


    ¡°So¡­¡± I leaned forward. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you¡¯ve got a reason for dragging me into this chat. Part of why I¡¯m here, I presume?¡±


    ¡°Motives weave tapestries, darling.¡± Her claw tapped crystalline nails. ¡°But why assume I hold the loom? You sought more than ganglord blood¡ªa scalpel strike, not club swing. Why would Alchemy Tower¡¯s star prodigy wade into gutter politics? Unless¡­¡± Amber eyes narrowed. ¡°¡­your motive was to milk Iron for intel. Choking the wolf to find the bear.¡±


    I suppressed a sigh. She wasn¡¯t a detective for nothing. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong,¡± I admitted, letting just enough truth spill to make the lie beneath it untraceable. ¡°They were shifting¡ªbeast forms, unnaturally. I wanted to know how. Pure curiosity, you could say.¡± I left out the part where I already knew the how and the what, just not the who pulling the strings. That Thing¡­ Its claws were digging too deep into Varkaigrad for my liking.


    ¡°But my focus has shifted,¡± I continued, steering the conversation before she dug too deep. ¡°Right now, I just need to find this little secret market in the lower district. There are some¡­ let¡¯s call them ¡®complicated¡¯ ingredients that don¡¯t quite make it to the Alchemy Tower¡¯s approved shelves.¡±


    Lysska arched a perfectly sculpted brow. ¡°Funny coincidence. I¡¯ve got business there myself. Why not let me play escort?¡±


    That was¡­ convenient. Suspiciously so. Still, beggars can¡¯t be choosers when time¡¯s short. ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said, though my eyes stayed sharp on hers. ¡°But if I¡¯m spilling my motives, seems only polite you do the same.¡±


    Her smile widened, a vulpine curve. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s easy. I want you to join us.¡±


    I blinked, and she laughed again. ¡°Unclench, darling. We¡¯re chaos¡¯s gardeners¡ªpruning rot so the district doesn¡¯t splinter into anarchy¡¯s embrace. Should ¡®noble rogues¡¯ grace ballad sheets, we¡¯d claim the crest.¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    I¡¯d believe it when dragons sprouted feathers. Hmm, I think I got an option to do just that once. Still, the offer hung there, intriguing in its own warped way.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± I said finally, my tone noncommittal. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ season the proposition in my mental cauldron.¡±


    ¡°Simmer at your leisure,¡± she purred.


    ***


    Parda. The woven veil of existence. The only barrier separating the seven known planes. In Vraal¡¯Kor¡ªand, frankly, everywhere else¡ªmessing with it was a no-go. Taboo. Illicit. Forbidden with a capital "don''t you dare." And that¡¯s saying something for Vraal¡¯Kor, where "illicit" is just another word for "we¡¯ll allow it if you pay enough." But summoning? That was the one rabbit hole everyone agreed not to dive down too deep.


    Honestly, it made sense. Summoning wasn¡¯t just playing with fire¡ªit was juggling a bonfire while covered in oil. Dangerous, volatile, and prone to blowing up in ways you couldn¡¯t predict. I didn¡¯t know much about the finer details back then¡ªjust that it was outlawed. The whispers said some types of summoning were, in and of themselves, bad ideas. Period.


    There¡¯s a saying in Vraal¡¯Kor I¡¯ve heard a few times: ¡°Parda is the breath between worlds, the seam that stitches the planes. To pierce it is to unspool the fabric of reality, inviting the shadows that were meant to stay unseen.¡± Yeah, poetic and ominous. People didn¡¯t just dislike tampering with Parda¡ªthey feared it. And for good reason.


    Which brings me to the little fiasco I pulled off when I summoned Barn. That wasn¡¯t just summoning. It was a mirrored breach. A summoning that uses a mirror as its medium. And, let me tell you, mirrors are their own kind of madness. They don¡¯t just reflect; they distort. Twist. Mock. Unless you were absurdly precise¡ªdown to the breath¡ªon what you wanted, where you wanted it, and how you wanted it, you could end up dragging something through that would make even your nightmares ask for a safe word.


    Oh, and those wards and protections people use for regular summoning? Designed for specific entities. If you pull the wrong thing through, well¡­ let¡¯s just say your survival odds drop to laughable.


    I think back to my first summoning now and can¡¯t help but cringe. If I¡¯d known then what I know now, I¡¯d have been bricking myself. Sweating over the ¡°illicit¡± part was bad enough, but realizing it was a Mirror Summoning? Aiming for a NetherBeast as my target? Yeah, if dread could kill, I wouldn¡¯t have made it past the ritual circle. The only reason I survived was Lotte¡¯s expertise. If she¡¯d been anyone else, I¡¯d have been a smear on the Parda.


    And yet here I was again, preparing to poke the veil of reality with another ritual. This time for Belle. Something about making her my supplicant in some kind of official capacity. How that translated into Parda-weaving was a mystery only Lotte could explain. All I knew was it sounded equally reckless.


    A snowflake landed on my nose, snapping me out of my musings. I sneezed, the sound muffled in the quiet of the carriage. The snow-covered road stretched endlessly ahead, swallowed by the night. My air sense mapped the terrain automatically, every bend and turn embedding itself in my subconscious. Despite my spiraling thoughts, I had a good idea of where we were headed.


    Lysska sat across from me, her posture effortless and regal as usual. Her gaze was fixed on the window, though her eyes seemed distant, unfocused, as if they were seeing something that wasn¡¯t there¡ªor maybe wasn¡¯t here. Knowing her, probably both.


    ¡°You¡¯re brooding,¡± she said without turning her head, her voice breaking the silence. ¡°What¡¯s on your mind?¡±


    Well, whatever it was, I wasn¡¯t about to spill it. ¡°Just curious what happened to Iron.¡±


    That earned a low, throaty chuckle. ¡°A fair curiosity. The enforcers dragged his half-dead carcass off. Beyond that? Your guess is as good as mine.¡±


    ¡°Figured it¡¯d be easy for you to dig up intel if you wanted. Y¡¯know, with the kind of¡­ influence you have.¡± Honestly, having crows as your personal intelligence network was straight-up nightmare fuel. You could never shake the feeling you were watched.


    ¡°Not as easy as you think, little drakkari,¡± she said, her tone half amusement, half pity. ¡°Especially when it comes to the Iron Pact. Their perimeter isn¡¯t mere mortar and malice. It breathes. My darlings plummet mid-flight¡ªfeathers rotting before they hit the ground. Death-wards, perhaps. Or something¡­ hungrier.¡± She shrugged, casually sinister. ¡°Of course, I could get past their defenses if I really wanted to. But Iron Pact¡¯s secrets aren¡¯t exactly worth the blood, sweat, and feather loss. Fret not though. Our dear Iron isn¡¯t escaping his dues. Last I heard? Your venom¡¯s still composing symphonies in his veins. A concerto of agony, sans antidote.¡±


    I winced, just a little. So, Iron was alive. Miserable, sure, but alive. At least I knew where he was¡ªor at least, where they¡¯d stash someone in his state. My thoughts veered into darker territory: infiltrating their HQ wouldn¡¯t be impossible. A few paralytics, a sleeping charm or two for the guards, maybe some reducers to keep Iron¡¯s jaw mobile enough for¡­ persuasion.


    Lysska¡¯s tail flicked, slicing through my plotting. ¡°Tsk. I taste those gears grinding. Hunting the hunter now, little drakkari?¡±


    ¡°Merely¡­ seasoning possibilities.¡±


    Her grin widened. ¡°Stir too many pots, and you¡¯ll scorch the soup.¡±


    But Lysska wasn¡¯t wrong. Those bastards were paranoid. The barrier surrounding the place wasn¡¯t just one element¡ªit was Earth, Water, and Light, a trifecta of nope. Slipping through it? Not happening. Phasing through it? Forget it. And even if I somehow pulled a miracle out of my scales, there was no doubt they had a detection system waiting for intruders like me.


    And that wasn¡¯t even counting the heavy hitters they kept stationed inside. Iron Pact wasn¡¯t just a faction; it was a militarized political monster masquerading as the city¡¯s peacekeepers. The whole thing was a frustrating tangle of why bother.


    Maybe Alice could help divine a solution. Something to consider later. The carriage gave a jarring lurch as it screeched to a halt, yanking me from my thoughts. Lysska was already moving, pulling her hood low and sliding on her mask. I followed her lead, settling my mask into place.


    She handed a few copper coins to the driver through the narrow window before stepping down. I trailed after her, boots hitting the cold ground.


    We stepped out, and I was immediately greeted by... a wall. A half-broken, battered wall. The street was deserted, the faint glow of a flickering mana lamp barely holding back the gloom. The lamp looked like it hadn¡¯t been serviced since the last century. A beggar was huddled in the shadows, shivering against the cold. That was it. That was the grand scene.


    ¡°Welcome,¡± Lysska said with a sweep of her hand, her tone dripping with mock grandeur, ¡°to the illustrious, elusive secret market of Shadow¡¯s Warren.¡±


    I stared at the wall, then at her. ¡°Uh¡­?¡±

 Chapter 112: Barreling into Trouble

    Whisper didn¡¯t bother with an answer, just glided ahead like she owned the snow¡ªwhat little there was. Her steps left barely a trace, like the ground didn¡¯t dare hold onto her footprints. She stopped in front of what looked like a¡­ beggar? Hard to say, given how he was hunched in the corner under a tattered blanket. But the moment that threadbare shield of his shifted, my guess went belly-up.


    It was a Voruun. Green-skinned. Tusked. Built like he could bench-press a boulder just to pass the time. Definitely not your average alley-dweller. My Air Sense tickled at the faintest trace of a weapon¡ªhidden, sure, but not hidden enough. The faint breeze sneaking under the blanket whispered of a crossbow.


    ¡°Vel,¡± Whisper hailed, the name a silver coin dropped into silence.


    ¡°Madam.¡± The beggar¡¯s guise rumbled like a landslide given voice.


    Her eyes¡ªkeen as arrowheads¡ªfound his. ¡°Shall we attribute this¡­ enthusiastic garrison to festive paranoia?¡±


    Vel nodded, his tusked jaw dipping slightly. ¡°I¡¯m sure the captain will provide the specifics,¡± he said, tapping the broken wall behind him. A web of runes flared to life, bright and intricate. With a quiet hiss, the tiles shifted, revealing a hidden staircase leading down.


    ¡°I¡¯m certain he will,¡± Whisper replied with a nod. ¡°Thank you, Vel.¡±


    ¡°Have a good evening, Madam Whisper. And¡­ the girl behind you? She¡¯s with you, I assume? Though I can¡¯t say I¡¯ve seen her before.¡±


    Weird how he said that without so much as standing up¡ªjust sprawled there like some laid-back gatekeeper. Maybe it was a guard thing. But something in Whisper¡¯s words made my stomach tighten. Heightened security? I flicked my Air Sense outward again, focusing on the surrounding buildings. What I¡¯d dismissed as huddled beggars began to look less harmless. The outlines of weapons¡ªcrossbows, daggers¡ªstood out faintly beneath their ragged coverings.


    A chill skittered down my spine. How many were there? Twenty, maybe more.


    ¡°Yes, she¡¯s with me. Objections?¡± Whisper asked, her tone casual but edged with warning.


    Vel reclined into his throne of rubble. ¡°None sprout here, Madam. Mind the dark.¡±


    ¡°And you the light,¡± she countered, already a specter gliding downward.


    Something about that made Vel¡¯s expression sour slightly, though he didn¡¯t say a word. Just a polite wave toward the stairs as Whisper descended. I followed close behind, trying not to fidget under my hood. My silver hair was tied in a tight bun, hidden from sight; the mask over my face added another layer of anonymity. I¡¯d been careful since word about me had started to spread, but trouble had a way of finding me if I wasn¡¯t careful.


    The stairway was lit with neat little mana lamps, glowing evenly on either side. The polished stone steps were unnervingly clean for the lower district. Sterile air wafted past us¡ªno muck, no stench, nothing. It was like stepping into a chunk of the middle district, all polished and pristine. The deeper we went, the louder the noise got¡ªjeers, shouts, drunken cheers, and the unmistakable tang of blood mixed with sweat and cheap liquor.


    My stomach growled. Not for liquor¡¯s burn or sweat¡¯s salt¡ªgods, no¡ªbut the blood. Fresh. Vital. Tempting. A traitor¡¯s tongue dampened before I shackled the urge. I¡¯d supped on wraith steak; gluttony makes for sluggish wings.


    The moment we hit the bottom of the stairs, the mood took a nosedive¡ªor maybe an uppercut. From the eerie silence of ruined streets above to a deafening cacophony below, the shift was whiplash-inducing. The hall was massive, crammed full of beastkin of every stripe, all hollering loud enough to rattle bones.


    And in the middle of it all was a ring. In it, a half-naked Rakari¡ªa lion kin, muscles gleaming¡ªdanced against a massive spider beast. The scene was... well, unexpected. The spider struck with lightning speed, one razor-sharp leg stabbing toward its prey. The Rakari pivoted, moving with predatory grace, and retaliated with a punch wrapped in frost that slammed into one of the spider¡¯s bulbous eyes.


    The crowd exploded. Roars, jeers, cheers¡ªit was chaos. An underground fighting ring. Illegal? Probably. The kind of place the law politely pretended didn¡¯t exist.


    Before I could process the madness, a stout Drakkari waddled over to Whisper, grinning like he¡¯d just run into an old friend.


    ¡°Ah, Madam Whisper, long time no see!¡± he greeted. Clearly, she was a known face here, or a known mask¡ªand judging by the way people eyed her, a respected one, too.


    Whisper smiled faintly and gave him a nod, her usual aura of composed authority intact. Meanwhile, I clocked the guards posted all around. Not the run-of-the-mill muscle¡ªthey had weapons that screamed ¡°nope.¡± Ornate crossbows, but not just for show. These were powered by expansive mana stones, fueled by a combustion process that blended stable runes with volatile pressure. The result? Searing, detonating bolts that would wreck anything. Even in dragon form, I wouldn¡¯t fancy my chances against one of those. And it wasn¡¯t just the weapons¡ªthese guards were professionals.


    But something was off. The whole place felt¡­ tense. Like the air before a storm.


    ¡°What happened here?¡± Whisper asked, her voice as smooth as ever.


    From her perch on my shoulder, Alice chimed in with that knowing tone of hers. ¡°She pries, but she already knows, mistress. This is a game.¡±


    Of course. Whisper didn¡¯t ask; she auditioned truths. If calamity had struck, she¡¯d already parsed its bones. This was theater¡ªto measure how deeply the flustered Drakkari before us swam in ignorance. Terrifying creature.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°The market was nearly destroyed earlier, Madam Whisper,¡± the Drakkari stammered, rubbing his hands together like he was trying to scrub off the tension. His chuckle was strained, more nervous than amused.


    ¡°A fugitive,¡± he continued. ¡°Came sniffing for supplies, got spotted. And then¡­ chaos! Ancestors preserve us, the carnage!¡± He shook his head dramatically. ¡°No idea what he did to deserve that kind of reaction, but whatever it was¡­ terrifying! My legs went limp watching the chaos unfold!¡±


    Alice¡¯s voice cut in again. ¡°The words are playful, but the anxiety beneath them rings true. He doesn¡¯t know why this person was wanted.¡±


    Not a higher-up, then. More like a glorified errand boy. Would explain the deference.


    ¡°This fugitive,¡± Whisper pressed. ¡°A name?¡±


    ¡°Elvish, I think? Esmond¡­ Es-something?¡±


    An elf. Oh, for Thalador¡¯s sake, it¡¯s always those smug, tree-humping, twig-eared pricks, isn¡¯t it? My brain kicked into overdrive, connecting dots faster than a drunk conspiracy theorist. Coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe this leafy little shit was the one sowing the rot festering through this whole damn district. Too early to call it, but the suspicion clung to me like week-old gum on my boot.


    ¡°Captured?¡± Whisper lobbed the obvious. Given the rubble, unlikely. But her queries weren¡¯t seeker¡¯s arrows¡ªthey were needles for pincushion egos.


    The stout Drakkari shifted uncomfortably, his nerves plain as day. Finally, he gestured toward the staircase we¡¯d just descended. It was then I noticed faint dents in the otherwise pristine stone, marks left by something¡ªor someone¡ªviolent.


    ¡°He rushed out before those Fang Circle guys arrived. By the ancestors, he was fast¡ªslippery as an eel. Had roots springing up everywhere, weaving through them like they were part of him,¡± the stout Drakkari explained.


    ¡°And the market¡¯s status?¡± Whisper pivoted, seamless.


    ¡°Reborn this very hour, Madam,¡± he said, bowing as if gravity demanded it.


    ¡°That¡¯s great,¡± Whisper said, her tone light as she waltzed past him, her three fox tails swaying elegantly with each step. I trailed behind her, sticking close as we moved through the edge of the crowd gathered around the underground fighting ring.


    The fight between the Rakari and the spider monster was still going strong, and from the looks of it, the Rakari had the upper hand. Frost clung to patches of the spider¡¯s carapace, cracks radiating from the icy spots. The Rakari wasn¡¯t unscathed¡ªhis torso was littered with shallow cuts and bruises¡ªbut his injuries seemed minor compared to the spider¡¯s battered state.


    The crowd hadn¡¯t lost any steam, roaring with cheers and jeers, hurling creative obscenities as they rallied behind their chosen fighter. Whisper ignored the commotion entirely, and so did I, shadowing her like an obedient duckling. My Air Sense remained active, keeping tabs on every shift in the chaotic atmosphere. Lotte and Alice¡¯s divinations had assured me Whisper could be trusted¡ªfor now¡ªbut I wasn¡¯t about to let my guard down.


    Curiosity gnawed at me like a restless itch. ¡°What do you know about this elf?¡± I asked, tossing the question into the air like bait, waiting to see what Whisper might nibble on.


    Her voice drifted back, smooth and detached. ¡°I handled a case for the Fang Circle a while ago¡ªyou know, the same charming folks you decided to tangle with. They run this market, by the way.¡±


    That sent a jolt down my spine, my muscles tensing like coiled springs. Before I could react, Whisper cut in, her tone flat and unbothered. ¡°Relax. You¡¯re a ghost here. Especially while trailing my shadow.¡±


    I forced myself to loosen up as she continued. ¡°The elf was traveling with a merchant caravan. Almost all of them ritualistically killed themselves¡ªa massive suicide in the middle of the forest. Fang Circle members were involved, too. I followed a few leads, found survivors. It wasn¡¯t hard to figure out who the elf was among them.¡±


    My brows furrowed. ¡°Hold. You claimed suicides. How¡¯s that possible if another¡¯s hand guided it?¡±


    Whisper¡¯s reply was steady. ¡°That¡¯s the thing. Seems like some kind of new elemental pathway. It feeds on despair¡ªdrives it up to a breaking point. Enough to make people end themselves.¡±


    Alice¡¯s voice chimed in. ¡°Not a straight answer. Calculation undercurrents. She likely knows what it is, mistress, but chooses not to tell you.¡±


    I shrugged mentally. Not like I could expect Whisper to spill all her secrets. She had no obligation to tell me anything, but what she¡¯d shared was still valuable.


    My thoughts churned, pieces clicking into place. If this elf had a connection to some new, despair-driven elemental force, it lined up a little too well with the rot creeping through this district. A force that could crank despair to lethal levels sounded like something that Thing would revel in¡ªand no doubt extract some sick benefit from.


    Another lead. This one sharper than the rest. I let a flicker of satisfaction pass through me, my suspicions tightening their grip.


    There was another gate as we approached, flanked by more guards armed with those deadly advanced crossbows. Their casual conversation halted the moment we came into view. With swift efficiency, they straightened, bowing to Whisper before silently opening the door for us.


    The moment it shut behind us, the raucous noise of the fighting ring was completely muffled, replaced by a softer, constant hum of activity. Not silence, but the lively hum of a market in full swing.


    We walked through another hallway, and the scene ahead took me by surprise. A vast, sprawling hall stretched before me, illuminated by overhead mana lamps that made it as bright as midday despite the perpetual darkness of the lower district. Rows of organized stalls lined the space, each bursting with wares ranging from common goods to rare, exotic items. The air was thick with the scent of spices, metals, and something faintly floral¡ªa sensory overload of a different kind.


    Passers-by meandered between the stalls, haggling over prices, chatting with vendors, or examining items with hawk-like scrutiny. It was a strange harmony of chaos and order, vibrant yet cutthroat.


    Whisper must have caught my musings. ¡°Gangs grip the Lower District¡¯s throat,¡± she said, her tone dry. ¡°This market dances to the Fang Circle¡¯s tune. Next time you spar with fate, do mind where you aim your blade.¡±


    The warning wasn¡¯t lost on me. She continued, ¡°Here, merchants don¡¯t care where their goods came from. They can sell whatever they like as long as they pay a cut of their profits to Borislav. He¡¯s the boss of this market, and the former leader of the Fang Circle.¡±


    ¡°Borislav?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°A red core pathwalker,¡± she clarified. ¡°Though for reasons beyond me, he¡¯s content to sit back and watch things from the sidelines, letting age catch up with him. He¡¯s dying of old age.¡±


    That was surprising. Weren¡¯t red core pathwalkers supposed to have extended lifespans after achieving body reformation? Just how old was this guy?


    The intricacy of the gang system here was far more developed than I¡¯d imagined. I thought back to my earlier scuffle with the Fang Circle. What if I¡¯d stumbled into this market without Whisper? My silver hair out for all to see? The thought made my stomach twist. Definitely wouldn¡¯t be a situation I¡¯d want to test.


    ¡°Now, forage for your ingredients,¡± Whisper said, tilting her head. ¡°Unless your purse sings empty?¡±


    I smirked. Oh, it crooned¡ª20 gold kron, plus a chorus of silver and bronze ¡°donated¡± by enterprising pickpockets. A rogue¡¯s economy, really.


    I nodded, and Whisper turned away, heading toward an open room at the very back of the market. ¡°The back office claims me if needed,¡± she added before disappearing into the crowd.


    Finally, I exhaled a sigh of relief, glad for a moment of peace. But that relief was short-lived.


    Out of nowhere, a blur barreled into me with the force of a charging bull.

 Chapter 113: The World is Good, Ancestors are Kind

    The instant the blur collided with me, I nearly staggered, but reflexes¡ªbless their split-second magic¡ªsaved me. My body pivoted like a well-oiled machine, right foot sliding back to anchor me, heel angled just so to soak up the impact. My arms counterbalanced instinctively, and my fingers flexed in preparation¡ªready to defend, but wisely holding their fire. The force that might¡¯ve toppled me fizzled harmlessly, dissipating through my adjusted posture instead of bowling me over. Crisis averted.


    I glanced at the girl now sprawled on the ground, rubbing her head, looking every bit the picture of ¡°oops.¡±


    Oddly, I noticed something else, too: masks¡ªor the distinct lack thereof. In this bustling crowd of a few hundred souls, maybe one or two other people wore them. Otherwise, it was just me, playing the lone masked crusader in a sea of bare faces. The same went for the girl in front of me.


    She was Saryn¡ªa serpent kin¡ªimpossible to miss with those distinctive features. Green scales patterned her neck, and her golden-green eyes, slit-pupiled and gleaming, were sharp. Delicate, flexible spines extended behind her ears, their translucent tips catching the light just right. Long black braids cascaded down her back, dotted with intricate accessories that screamed wealth.


    Speaking of wealth, her attire wasn¡¯t exactly low-district chic. The fabric alone could pay for someone¡¯s next ten meals, and that wasn¡¯t counting the craftsmanship. It wasn¡¯t just her either¡ªmost of the people here were dressed like they¡¯d wandered in from the upper or middle districts. I guess that made sense; this market was famed for its rare and exotic goods, a magnet for anyone with coin to burn.


    The Saryn girl was clutching a bag that, thanks to our little encounter, had vomited its contents onto the ground. Ingredients lay scattered¡ªherbs, powders, oils, metals, and a few other curiosities that raised an eyebrow. She gasped and dropped to her knees, scrambling to gather her things.


    ¡°Ahh, I¡¯m so sorry!¡± she said, her voice rushed and panicked as she tried to corral the wayward items. ¡°I wasn¡¯t paying attention!¡±


    I sighed, crouching to help her. Honestly, my first instinct had been to throw a punch¡ªold habits die hard when you¡¯re used to monsters barreling into you. But this wasn¡¯t a fight, and I didn¡¯t want to accidentally launch her into next week.


    As I handed her the items, my eyes caught on something¡ªa mirror. A beautifully ornate one, engraved with intricate, glowing sigils. Specifically, I recognized a web of runes for containment and protection. My frown deepened.


    And then there were the other ingredients. Iridescent Draught, rare metals, and more rare powders. It clicked: these were the makings of a ritual¡ªspecifically one involving Parda. My stomach twisted. Was she planning a mirror summoning? If so, everyone around her might be in for a very bad day.


    What worried me most was the mirror itself. The runes were etched directly onto the frame¡ªa glaring mistake. Those symbols belonged in a ritual circle, tethered to the caster, not carved into a reflective surface where they could go haywire. Who thought this was a good idea?


    But maybe I was overthinking. Paranoia¡¯s a side effect of my line of work. I handed the last of her items back and stood, forcing a polite smile.


    She bowed, still flustered. "Again, I¡¯m so, so sorry for that!"


    "Don¡¯t worry about it," I said, waving it off. "I wasn¡¯t the one who fell. You okay?"


    She winced, shifting her weight awkwardly. "Might¡¯ve landed wrong on my foot, but eh, I¡¯ll live! One healing potion, and I¡¯m good as new..." She trailed off, glancing toward the market stalls with growing distress. "After I get home, that is. Oh ancestors, I still need to find a few more ingredients¡ªhalf of which I don¡¯t even know how to identify! And it¡¯s almost night! I¡¯M SCREWED if I¡¯m late by even a minute!"


    She had the energy of a brook after a rainstorm¡ªwords tumbling out, fast, unfiltered, entirely too much. Most people, when caught with ingredients that carried even a whiff of illegality, would clam up. Get cagey. Start inching toward the nearest exit. Not her. Either she was blissfully ignorant of what she¡¯d bought or too naive to care.


    "I think you¡¯re correct, mistress," Alice¡¯s voice chimed in, calm and precise. "I detect an undercurrent of excitement and mild anxiety. Not even a whisper of dread¡ªthe kind any reasonable person should feel before attempting something as reckless as mirror summoning."


    That... tracked. She hadn¡¯t flinched when I eyed her stash, hadn¡¯t even hesitated. Her sheer lack of wariness all but screamed inexperience.


    Still. Better safe than disaster-adjacent.


    "I¡¯ve got a fair bit of experience with rare reagents and alchemical components," I said smoothly. "If you¡¯d like, I¡¯ll trade you directions for a favor." A win-win situation: I¡¯d grab some materials for myself while preventing a potential disaster. Probably.


    Her spines flared, iridescent as dragonfly wings. "Trade? But you¡¯re¡ª! I mean¡ª! Oh, Sasha, you absolute turnip, she¡¯s being kind!" She clapped a hand over her mouth too late, scaled cheeks darkening to emerald. "...Teacher says I have a ''mouth faster than a greased weasel,''" She muttered the last part under her breath, seemingly oblivious.


    Sasha. I filed the name away, along with the tremor in her claws as she thrust a crumpled list at me. The parchment reeked of lavender and panic sweat.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "Lustreleaf Extract¡ªgot that from the scariest apothecary! She had knives on her belt, Ancestors weep! And Spectral Quartz¡ªthat nice gentleman near the fountain gave me a discount! Well, after I tripped into his cart..." She tapped each item like a child recounting birthday gifts, oblivious to the damning pattern forming: binding agents, temporal stabilizers, soul anchors.


    ¡°Ah, the world is good. Ancestors are kind.¡± She beamed.


    "Charming," I deadpanned.


    Alice¡¯s snort echoed in my skull. ¡° This one wouldn¡¯t recognize a red flag if it stabbed her.¡±


    I shook my head, sighing as I glanced over her list. Lustreleaf Extract. Mercurial Tear. Spectral Quartz Slivers. Nocturnite Ash. My brows furrowed. The deeper I read, the more certain I became¡ªthese weren¡¯t random ingredients. This screamed Parda tampering.


    ¡°Well,¡± I muttered under my breath, already weaving through the crowd toward the stalls, ¡°let¡¯s see what kind of mess we¡¯re cleaning up today.¡±


    ¡°These are some pricey ingredients,¡± I said, stopping at a stall where two men were deep in conversation with the vendor. My tone was light, as if I was more impressed by the cost than concerned with the purpose. ¡°I¡¯m curious, though¡ªwhat are you planning to do with such extravagant stuff?¡± I leaned on the word extravagant, letting awe coat my voice to mask any hint of prying.


    Predictably, she didn¡¯t catch on. Of course, she didn¡¯t. Her wide-eyed grin grew even brighter, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. ¡°Oh, gold¡¯s nothing! Teacher says gold¡¯s just ¡®crystallized doubt¡¯¡ªwhatever that means! Also, hmm, it¡¯s supposed to be a secret, but I¡¯ll tell you because you helped me for nothing in return!¡± She nodded to herself, as if this justification made perfect sense. She couldn¡¯t keep a secret if her life depended on it. Whisper would¡¯ve eaten her alive in five seconds flat.


    ¡°It¡¯s for my teacher! He¡¯s incredibly wise, and we¡¯re going to try creating a subspace mana pocket! A stable one!¡± She hopped in place, nearly spilling her bag again, before catching herself with a hasty cough. ¡°Ahem. Anyway, I¡¯ve been really interested in studying mana arts that don¡¯t involve combat. And these are for that. Totally non-violent.¡±


    Alice¡¯s voice hummed in my mind, calm as always. ¡°She¡¯s telling the truth, mistress. She doesn¡¯t seem to realize these could be used for a dangerous summoning.¡±


    That checked out. I kept my face neutral, thumbing the vial of Nocturnite Ash on the counter. ¡°Four silvers,¡± the vendor barked, eyes narrowing at Sasha¡¯s scales¡ªa tell he¡¯d inflate prices for anyone with upper-district gloss.


    ¡°Four?¡± I snorted, sliding the vial back. ¡°That¡¯s robbery. I¡¯ve seen purer ash in a back-alley hookah.¡±


    ¡°Three-fifty. Final offer.¡±


    ¡°Two. And I don¡¯t mention the interesting fungus growing in your shadowroot stock.¡±


    He paled. Sasha blinked, oblivious to the blackmail blooming beside her. The vendor shoved two vials at me for three silvers, his smile brittle. Victory. Not bad.


    Sasha gasped at the vials like I¡¯d produced starlight. ¡°You¡¯re sorcery! How¡¯d you even¡ª? Never mind! Let¡¯s find the Mercurial Tear next! It¡¯s super rare, but the book says it ¡®shimmers like a liar¡¯s smile,¡¯ whatever that¡ªoh!¡± She lurched toward a spice stall, braids swinging. ¡°That vendor¡¯s apron! It¡¯s got owls! Teacher loves owls! Well, except for the time one stole his wig mid-lecture¡­¡±


    She couldn¡¯t stop talking¡ªabout her teacher, her studies, and somehow, her legendary skill at devouring sandwiches. That segued into a tale of a chef who supposedly despised her, though she seemed entirely unfazed by his wrath.


    Keeping up with her bouncing train of thought was like chasing an eel through muddy water. I pocketed the ash, watching as she charmed a stoic spice seller into gifting her a free cinnamon twist. Her laugh fizzed through the crowd, infectious as a yawn. Harmless? For now. But the ingredients in her satchel sang a darker tune.


    ¡°It¡¯s for her,¡± Sasha blurted, clutching a vial of Mercurial Tear like a holy relic. Her voice softened, spines drooping into something wistful. ¡°My best friend! We used to stick glow-worms in our hair and pretend we were starry ancestors. Now she¡¯s at the Alchemy Tower, decoding actual constellations while I¡¯m still¡­ me.¡± She laughed, a brittle sound. ¡°Her birthday¡¯s next week. I wanted to weave her a proper star-map! Not some child¡¯s glitter-scrawl, but a real one. The kind that lasts.¡±


    Her fingers traced the vial¡¯s ridges, scales dimming to mossy green. ¡°She¡¯s the reason I even tried mana arts. Said I had ¡®untapped potential¡¯¡ªwhich, between us, probably meant ¡®you¡¯re terrible at everything else.¡¯¡± A beat. Her grin reignited, all fang and fervor. ¡°But subspace pockets? That I can do! Mostly. Sort of. Okay, once without setting the curtains on fire¡ª¡±


    Oh, great. The odds of her friend being one of the apprentices I knew at the Tower? Higher than I¡¯d like. But whatever. At least it didn¡¯t seem like these ingredients were solely for summoning. Though her teacher still raised all kinds of red flags in my head, I had bigger issues to handle.


    Her earnestness was a live wire¡ªno guile, just raw, reckless hope. I¡¯d met zealots and liars. She was neither. Just¡­ a turnip.


    ¡°Done,¡± I said, snapping the vendor¡¯s ledger shut after haggling his price down to a pittance. ¡°Your list¡¯s complete. Try not to fold spacetime before dessert.¡±


    She gaped at the assembled ingredients, pupils blown wide. ¡°You¡ª! How did you even¡ª?! Ancestors¡¯ teeth, you¡¯re a miracle worker!¡± Her bow was so deep, her braids swept the cobblestones. ¡°If you¡¯re ever in the Fang¡¯s Ascent in Upper District, come find me! I¡¯ll bake you so many honeycakes! Unless¡ªdo you hate honey? Wait, who hates honey? Unless you¡¯re allergic? Are you allergic? Oh no, what if¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sasha.¡±


    ¡°Right! Shutting up! Leaving! Not exploding!¡± She backpedaled straight into a stack of crates, sending cabbages rolling. ¡°Not my fault this time!¡± she yelped under the vendor¡¯s withering glare, then whipped back to me. ¡°Thank you. Really!!¡±


    Then, just as suddenly, she spun and bolted, shouting over her shoulder: ¡°And don¡¯t worry! I¡¯ll triple-check the runes! Quadruple! Maybe even quintuple!¡±


    She vanished into the throng, a whirlwind of scales, braids, and frantic determination. I could only hope she kept her head on straight¡ªand avoided steamrolling anyone else.


    The market bustled on around me, but my gaze drifted toward the back office where Whisper had disappeared. My errands were mostly done, but curiosity gnawed at me. What exactly was Whisper digging into? If it involved the elf, that meant one of two things: trouble¡ªor answers.


    The temptation to join her gang was real. Very real. But not yet. First, I needed to consult with Lotte or even divine a few things before committing to it.


    Just as I turned toward the room, the door opened. Whisper emerged, walking alongside a Voruun. Tall, green-skinned, and rippling with muscle, he had the unmistakable presence of someone used to commanding attention.


    And I recognized him.


    This was the same Voruun who¡¯d shown up to fight Iron. The assumed leader. His chiseled face¡ªtusks and all¡ªwas undeniably familiar. There was even a strange charm to his features, though that might¡¯ve just been the adrenaline talking.


    He was also the very person I¡¯d attacked that day.


    And now they were heading straight toward me.


    Eep!

 Chapter 114: A Gentledragon Always Helps a Damsel in Scales!

    My eyes flicked sideways as I slid into the crowd, positioning myself just beside a stall to avoid being noticed. My instincts screamed at me to bolt, but I reined them in, breathing evenly as I tracked the pair¡¯s movement. To my immense relief, the Voruun parted ways with Whisper halfway through and disappeared into the crowd.


    I exhaled a slow, controlled sigh, easing the tension in my shoulders. Whisper had assured me they wouldn¡¯t recognize me, but that didn¡¯t mean I fancied taking any chances.


    Whisper, however, had no such reservations. She made a beeline toward me, tilting her head with that faintly amused smile of hers. She didn¡¯t even bother with a detour. She knew exactly which stall I was hiding behind.


    My air sense didn¡¯t pick up any of her feathered familiars nearby, but the chaotic swirl of movement and breath signatures in this place made it hard to detect subtle presences. Even so, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that she was far too good at tracking people.


    ¡°Got everything you needed?¡± she asked, her tone light as she glanced at the bag in my hand.


    ¡°Yes, I think I got most of it.¡±


    Whisper nodded, clearly pleased. ¡°Good to hear. While I¡¯d love for you to have independent access to this market¡ªit¡¯s invaluable, as you¡¯ve seen¡ªthere are limits to what I can do. They require transparency from customers about their identities, especially now. Recent¡­ excitements demand guest ledgers. Names. Histories.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s understandable,¡± I replied.


    ¡°But,¡± she tapped her temple, ¡°should needs arise, my door creaks open. I¡¯ve a soft spot for this den of delights.¡±


    I nodded, though I remained guarded.


    ¡°Ready to depart, Miss Venom?¡±


    The nickname curdled. Gods, had I truly thought it clever? Needed something sharper. Deadlier. Less like a tavern bard¡¯s rejected ballad.


    ¡°After you,¡± I replied, falling into step behind her as we weaved through the crowd. Whisper moved with a grace that parted the chaos around her, and I did my best to follow suit until we emerged into the nearly empty hallway beyond.


    Still, one question gnawed at me, and I couldn¡¯t resist asking. ¡°Why recruit me?¡± I kept my voice a neutral blade. ¡°What marks me trustworthy?¡±


    Whisper paused. Considered me with glacier calm. ¡°Let¡¯s call it¡­ a calculated gamble. Mutual advantage has its charms.¡±


    Alice chimed in, her tone clinical. ¡°Truth wrapped in origami folds, mistress. She tucks cards up her sleeves.¡±


    Naturally. Straight lines bored her.


    ¡°What kind of work would I need to do if I agreed?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s something I¡¯d only discuss once you¡¯re on board,¡± Whisper said, her tone still light but firm. ¡°All I can tell you is that it¡¯s not the kind of work you¡¯d be overly opposed to.¡±


    I frowned, mulling over her words. ¡°Then I¡¯ll need more time to think.¡±


    ¡°Take them,¡± she purred. ¡°But know¡ªwindows close. Opportunities like this don¡¯t wait forever.¡±


    ¡°So a ¡®yes¡¯ slips me in? No trials? No tests?¡±


    ¡°Would that I ruled solo.¡± Her laugh was wind chimes in a storm. ¡°You¡¯ll dance for the choir. You¡¯ll have to prove your worth to the team. Luckily¡­¡± She arched a brow. ¡°I¡¯ve got just the thing. Remember that kid we ran into earlier?¡±


    ¡°That Rakari one? The one sniffing around for the missing detective?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. How about helping me track him down? I¡¯ve got a feeling your... particular set of skills could come in handy.¡±


    She was already ahead of me, striding with purpose, but I could tell her mind was spinning like a continuous spell matrix in overdrive. My crow-spotting trick had ruffled her feathers. Couldn¡¯t blame her for being curious¡ªor suspicious. It might¡¯ve been her way of trying to get a better read on me. Fine by me, though. I wanted to push my limits too, especially where Alice¡¯s divination and surface-level mind-skimming were concerned. Not mind-reading exactly¡ªmore like a knockoff version¡ªbut knowing when someone¡¯s lying or spilling the truth? Priceless.


    I gave a small nod. ¡°I think I could be... useful.¡±


    ¡°Perfect. Same time tomorrow. We¡¯ll start the investigation then.¡±


    Internal grin. Partnering with her could roast two pheasants on one spit. While we chased this lead, I could sniff out more about that elf she was investigating. Progress without signing on the dotted line with her gang? I¡¯d take that deal any day.


    The Gilded Fang. That was the market¡¯s name. Poetic. Controlled by the illustrious Fang Circle, whose esteemed primary members were all Tusked Voruuns. How original. Still, I couldn¡¯t deny their influence ran deep. One nugget of intel stood out: the guy I pegged as their leader was just a squad commander, nowhere near Whisper¡¯s level. No wonder he folded faster than wet parchment against Iron.


    The actual leader? A red core. And they had several red cores. Terrifying. Note to self: pick future targets with a bit more... precision. Whisper¡¯s cloak shielded me today¡ªnext time, I¡¯d need sharper knives.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    When we emerged from the underground fighting pit, the same carriage was waiting. The ride back was uneventful, barring a few subtle shifts in the route. Eventually, we ended up where we¡¯d started: Lower District.


    Lower District¡¯s landmarks were its main squares, chaotic hubs that people used to navigate the labyrinthine mess. We stopped at the busiest one¡ªa market square that was alive no matter the hour.


    Whisper and I split ways there. From this point, it was a straight shot to the Middle District. But after my little spree in the market, also picking up some contraband ingredients for my latest alchemical experiment (a particularly delicious poison, if I do say so myself) I was running light on funds. That poison, though. Mmm. (Doppelg?nger¡¯s fault, really. Once you¡¯ve sipped apocalypse, everything else¡¯s¡­ quaint. There¡¯s a kick to something city-ending that you simply can¡¯t replicate.) I might¡¯ve dabbed my mask¡¯s chin. Heh. Soon.


    Funds bled further by fish and biscuits for Belle¡ªthat badger¡¯s wrath could topple kingdoms. A rickety carriage would ferry me to Alchemy Tower. Priorities: appease the clawed overlord. Sometimes I swear she leases me my dorms.


    Soon enough, I flagged down a carriage headed for the Alchemy Tower. Being such a prominent landmark, transportation to and from there was never an issue¡ªno matter how often I sneaked out. The rhythmic click-clack of the wheels on cobblestones kept me company as I mentally reviewed the ritual Lotte had suggested. If all went well, I¡¯d complete it before the workday began again. It wasn¡¯t even midnight yet, so I had time to spare.


    The click-clack eventually faded into the background as I focused, carefully visualizing each component of the ritual. When the carriage finally stopped, I paid the driver two coppers¡ªmuch cheaper than flying carpets, though they certainly had their drawbacks. Slow, noisy, but serviceable.


    As I stepped into the square, the blue barrier around Alchemy Tower gleaming in the distance, my gaze snagged on someone. A Drakkari woman. We¡¯re born with scales kissed by elegance, but she? A sonnet in the flesh. Onyx gown clinging like shadow, feathered hat crowning a face carved by starfire. A beauty that could make a moonflower wilt in envy. She was almost too beautiful, the kind of beauty that made you question whether someone had slapped horns on an elf and called it a day.


    She approached the carriage with a hitch in her step¡ªa fractional wince, a tremor in her otherwise immaculate poise. The flaw in her grace hooked me. Her beauty wasn¡¯t just seen; it pulled, a lodestone humming in my marrow. My tongue moved before sense caught up:


    ¡°Miss¡ªyour ankle. Can I assist?¡±


    Her smile bloomed, edged with a fragility that made my claws twitch. ¡°A kindness, but unnecessary. Merely a stumble on cobbles.¡±


    Jade, you idiot. Since when do you play knight-errant for strangers? But the thought slithered away, drowned by a sudden, feverish urge to fix, to serve. A gentledragon always assists a beautiful Drakkari in need. That¡¯s just etiquette.


    I offered my arm. Her grip was cool, scaled fingers brushing mine with a static charge. She settled into the carriage, all rustling silk and murmured thanks. The air smelled faintly of bergamot and something darker¡ªburnt sugar? My pulse thrummed oddly, a giddy warmth pooling beneath my ribs as the wheels clattered away.


    And then it hit.


    A wave of nausea crashed over me, sharp and disorienting. I staggered slightly, clutching my head.


    ¡°Mistress, snap out of it!¡± Alice¡¯s voice rang in my mind like a bell, jolting me.


    ¡°What¡ªwhat¡¯s going on?¡± I stammered, disoriented.


    Alice¡¯s blindfold, stitched with glowing runes of golden thread, was shimmering ominously. Though she had no eyes, I could feel her focus locked on the carriage disappearing into the distance.


    ¡°That woman,¡± Alice said. ¡°She¡¯s dangerous. A Three-layered charm. Subtle. Brutal. Keyed to altruism, not lust¡ªclever.¡±


    Another wave of nausea rippled through me, and I swayed as my thoughts turned sluggish.


    ¡°Apologies for the discomfort, Mistress,¡± Alice continued. ¡°I¡¯m clearing the remnants of her charm from your mental sea.¡±


    ¡°Charm?¡± The realization hit me like a punch. My thoughts churned, rewinding to our encounter. The beauty, the inexplicable pull, the compulsion to help her¡ªit wasn¡¯t natural. I¡¯d been manipulated, plain and simple.


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± I hissed, anger and embarrassment bubbling up.


    ¡°A valid reaction, Mistress,¡± Alice replied, unbothered. ¡°Though it didn¡¯t seem she was discriminatory in her use of it. The charm coiled around her like a viper, sparing no one. A broadcasted aura. Not personal. The carriage driver wept as she passed. A street child offered his last bread.¡±


    My breath caught as my gaze lingered on the direction the carriage had gone, my mind racing. ¡°What the hell was wrong with that woman? And when she answered me¡ªwas she lying?¡±


    Alice¡¯s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. ¡°I only detected undercurrents of truth, Mistress. Something likely happened to her, and she did injure her leg.¡±


    Her words didn¡¯t calm me. My mind snapped back to my first impression, the nagging unease clawing at me. That lithe frame, the tapered horns¡ªdisguise? But the fugitive was male. Unless...


    My claws bit into the parchment-wrapped ingredients, crinkling vials of powders and herbs. The woman¡¯s carriage wheels still echoed in my skull. Follow her. The impulse fizzed like alchemical fire¡ªreckless, alluring.


    ¡°Stalking¡¯s off the menu, yes?¡± I growled, already tasting the futility.


    Alice¡¯s blindfold pulsed golden. ¡°A viper¡¯s den awaits in her wake. You lack antidotes, Mistress.¡±


    ¡°But what if it¡¯s him in disguise?¡± The words tumbled out, unbidden, my voice rising. ¡°The Elf who was attacked at the Gilded Fang¡ªThat tree-polishing bastard who puppeteered an entire caravan to slit their own throats? That¡­¡± I gestured sharply. ¡°That ease he¡¯d have charming a dragon into fetching his slippers!¡±


    Alice stayed silent¡ªa verdict.


    ¡°If it is him, he¡¯ll change his disguise again,¡± I muttered, frustration boiling over.


    The truth gnawed at me like a wound left to fester¡ªI wasn¡¯t ready. Weak, far too weak. If this was the Elf, his sheer presence alone was enough to bend my will like a twig in a gale. Chasing him would be like tugging a thread and unraveling chaos itself. Gwen¡¯s warnings echoed in my head.


    Bitterly, I let out a long sigh, forcing myself to look away from where the carriage had disappeared.


    ¡°Do not despair, Mistress,¡± Alice said gently. ¡°We¡¯ve gained valuable information. This was your first encounter with this Elf. Divination might reveal more, and I have questions for my new creator that may yield further insight.¡±


    I snorted. ¡°Good luck getting anything out of Lotte.¡± Even as I said it, Alice¡¯s words gave me a sliver of comfort. Turning into a nearby alley, I ducked out of sight.


    With practiced ease, I stripped out of my clothes and shifted into my dragon form. My silver scales shimmered in the dim light as I carefully stashed my belongings¡ªalong with Alice¡ªin my jaws. A quick burst of focus, and I phased into the Shadow Dimension, its distorted, mirror-like world wrapping around me.


    Alice was right. This wasn¡¯t a loss, just a first step. Not retreat, reconnaissance. If that woman was the Elf, then I¡¯d confirmed just how dangerous he could be. Divination might give me a thread to pull, and Lysska would definitely want to know about this encounter.


    A toothy grin split my maw. Oh, I¡¯d return to this night¡ªto the woman¡¯s bergamot stench and too-perfect ankles. But first¡­


    I needed strength. For myself¡ªand for those around me.


    A feral grin tugged at my lips as I emerged into my room. It was time to make Belle my supplicant.

 Chapter 115: Borrowed Flesh

    Belle was stress-scrubbing the table¡¯s phantom stain, her claws death-gripping that lace handkerchief like it owed her gold. Anxiety-cleaning was her neurotic nesting instinct¡ªif you breathed near her trinket shelf, she¡¯d buff your fingerprints off your soul. But when I oozed out of the shadow realm¡¯s left nostril, her inner honey badger screamed. She recoiled like a barn cat launched from a trebuchet manned by walnut-hoarding gremlins.


    Courtesies? For peasants and corpses. Priorities. I immediately spat out my belongings, and Alice (who came out a little wetter than she might¡¯ve preferred), then shifted back into my half-dragon form. There was something I¡¯d been putting off¡ªa method I¡¯d never dared to try until now. If the dreamscape was the goal, it seemed like it was finally time to take the shortcut Lotte had mentioned. Sleep was a luxury I didn¡¯t have.


    The process was deceptively simple: I formed the hiltless sword symbol, a circle surrounded by what looked like waves¡ªor maybe serpents? Art interpretation wasn¡¯t my forte. Once the symbol was complete, I channeled mana into it, which it obligingly transformed into spirituality. Manipulating spirituality wasn¡¯t all that different from mana¡ªdifferent flavor, same concept. I gathered it in my throat and began the so-called ¡°prayer.¡±


    Although, let¡¯s be honest, it felt more like a chant¡ªone that called upon something bigger, older, and definitely spookier than me.


    ¡°The Eternal Arbiter of Sin and Virtue.¡±


    ¡°Gaia¡¯s First Daughter.¡±


    As the words left me, a heavy weight settled in my throat, growing denser with each phrase, as though the very syllables demanded tribute.


    ¡°The Keeper of the Scales.¡±


    ¡°The Warden of Chains.¡±


    ¡°Mother of Silence, I beseech thee.¡±


    And then¡ªbam. The pressure hit me like a collapsing ceiling. My head swam as invisible hands¡ªcold, writhing, and made of pure whispers¡ªdescended. They gripped me, tugging me upward with a force that made my senses implode.


    Whispers. Growls. Screams. Silent and deafening all at once. They clawed at my sanity, gnawing on the edges of my mind until¡ªjust like that¡ªit stopped. The hands let go, and I¡­ arrived.


    Crystal-clear water surrounded me. I stood atop a serene lake, its surface mirror-flat, reflecting an endless ceiling of thick, ghostly fog. Beneath me, the water¡¯s depths churned with ink-black shadows, writhing and restless. My scales dripped with water that smelled of forgotten cellars and wept chrysanthemums, leaving me wondering if I¡¯d just crawled out of the lake itself. But the whispers, the intangible cacophony that had dragged me here, made it impossible to be sure.


    Directly ahead, a massive whirlpool spun on the lake¡¯s surface¡ªor rather, above it. It hung there, vertical and impossible, like a swirling portal to who-knows-where. Frowning, I looked around. Nothing else. No dreamscape, no signposts, just this weird in-between.


    Lotte said this method would lead to the dreamscape, didn¡¯t she? So where in all the realms was I? The thought hit me like a gut-punch: what if this was only the halfway point? The vortex loomed, the only plausible way forward. My gut¡ªor maybe just desperation¡ªtold me I had no other options. After an internal debate that lasted all of three seconds, I resigned myself.


    "Why not?" I muttered, stepping forward.


    The surface of the lake rippled beneath my feet as I approached, leaving faint circles in my wake. Was it just my imagination, or did the darkness below shift whenever a ripple spread? Whatever it was, it didn¡¯t feel dangerous¡ªjust deeply unsettling.


    When I stepped into the vortex, the world tilted. It felt like time slowed as the spinning currents around me stilled, leaving behind a calm cylinder of water. Everything solidified, freezing in place like the lake¡¯s surface had been just moments before.


    There was light at the end of the cylinder. Ah, a destination¡ªfinally. I was about to sprint toward it when a faint whimpering noise echoed through the water-encased tunnel.


    I frowned, glancing around, and caught something in the reflection of the still water beside me. It was small, rippling faintly, but undeniably there. Curiosity is a powerful thing¡ªit won before I even realized it. I moved closer, squinting to make sense of the image.


    As I leaned in, the reflection suddenly expanded, spilling across the surface like ink over glass. Now I could see her clearly¡ªa little girl. Drakkari, maybe? She looked battered, bruised, and terrified. Darkness pressed in around her, the kind you only find when someone¡¯s desperately hiding.


    In her tiny hands, she clutched a pendant. My stomach twisted¡ªbecause the pendant¡¯s design looked eerily similar to the hiltless sword symbol Lotte taught me for converting mana into spirituality.


    She was shaking, her lips moving in a constant mutter that didn¡¯t quite carry over. Whatever she was saying, it wasn¡¯t meant for me. She clutched the pendant tighter, tears streaming down her face and splashing onto the metal. Her whole body trembled with fear.


    Danger. That¡¯s all my instincts screamed. She was in danger. I strained to make sense of her surroundings¡ªa desperate attempt to place her somewhere, anywhere. The space around her was dark and cramped, but I could just barely make out rectangular outlines. A chest? A closet? Definitely enclosed.


    She murmured something again, her voice a soft tremor, and my gaze flicked between her and the light at the end of the tunnel. This wasn¡¯t my problem. Was it? Yet, without thinking, my hand moved on its own, reaching toward her reflection.


    The moment my claws grazed the water¡¯s surface, it rippled. A thin strand of liquid shot out, stopping just short of my hand. It hovered there¡ªa question, a prompt. It felt unnervingly like the system waiting for confirmation.


    I didn¡¯t think. I just¡­ affirmed.


    The reflection came alive in an instant. Tendrils of water laced with black ichor lashed out, coiling around me before I could so much as flinch. They wrapped tight, suffocating, until my vision went black.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    For a moment, there was nothing.


    Then my eyes snapped open, and all I saw was darkness.


    What the hell?


    I was in a cramped space, enclosed on all sides. My hands¡ªsmall, frail¡ªclutched something cold and metallic. A sinking realization hit me as I recognized its shape. The pendant.


    Alarms blared in my head. WHAT. THE. FUCK?!


    I was the girl. The crying, bruised, scared drakkari girl I¡¯d just seen. My chest heaved as I tried to steady myself. Okay, first things first. I reached inside, instinctively searching for my monster core.


    It wasn¡¯t there. Well, not entirely. Instead, I felt a black marble¡ªa strange core, unfamiliar and foreign. But it didn¡¯t end there. Around it, I sensed something else: a thread. Thin, delicate, yet somehow leading directly to¡­ my real monster core.


    The connection was solid. I knew, instinctively, that I could snap the thread at any moment and return to my body.


    This was weird. Really fucking weird.


    Before I could process any of it, a smell hit me like a punch to the gut¡ªrotting flesh. It was rancid, overwhelming, and made me gag on reflex. I froze as the realization crept in.


    I wasn¡¯t just in a cramped space. I was lying down. On something¡­ squishy.


    My hand trembled as it reached behind me.


    It touched something cold, soft, and unmistakably dead.


    A body.


    Was I inside a coffin?!


    There were voices too, low, rough, and tinged with frustration. Or was it fear? Hard to tell over the pounding of my borrowed heart.


    ¡°Where the fuck is that girl?¡± one man growled.


    ¡°If she gets out and someone catches wind of what we¡¯re doing, we¡¯re screwed,¡± hissed the other.


    ¡°Relax,¡± the first one replied. ¡°She¡¯s not getting past the traps at the sewer entrance. She¡¯s gotta be in here.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what you said an hour ago,¡± the second one shot back.


    Sewers. Traps. They were hunting her¡ªor, well, me now. And judging by their tone, if they found us, it wouldn¡¯t end with a friendly chat.


    I forced myself to take slow, shallow breaths, choking down the gag clawing up my throat. The air was thick with the stench of rot¡ªfoul, festering, feral. My small hands trembled as I pressed down on the bloated, squishy thing beneath me. Yep. Definitely a corpse. Fantastic.


    Even Air Sense was borderline useless in this coffin-sized shithole. No space, no airflow, no way to get a good read on my surroundings. Useless. The air was 90% corpse juice. Great. Just peachy.


    If I had my real body, I could¡¯ve helped myself to a little snack¡ªnothing like a bit of spoiled meat to keep the anxiety hunger pangs at bay¡ªbut this borrowed flesh probably wouldn¡¯t handle the meal well. Hm. Another thing for the ever-growing fucked-up shit to experiment with list. My fingers found the hand of the corpse I was propped against, and without a shred of hesitation, I gripped it. Didn¡¯t even need to squeeze. The flesh crumbled like wet sand, bones snapping into mush with all the resistance of overcooked noodles.


    Good. My strength was intact. Everything else seemed fine too¡ªsave for durability, which never translated well between forms. That stat was always the problem child.


    I flexed my fingers, took a second to think, then started weaving a matrix, pulling mana straight from my own core. Bingo. It worked.


    So¡ªstrength was a go, mana was a go, and the only things missing were the abilities tied to my actual organs. Annoying, but manageable. I could work with this.


    The voices oozed nearer. Either these clowns were mana-illiterate, or their brains were decorative. Either way, they¡¯d volunteered as tribute for my murder-greeting-card service.


    Scuffling boots. Stone grinding. They were playing coffin roulette, and lady luck¡¯s teeth were sharp.


    Options: Option one¡ªleap out like a jack-in-the-box from the nine hells and redecorate the walls with their spleen confetti. Option two¡ªplay possum, let them drag me out, and fillet them slow.


    Well, that depended on what this little Drakkari girl wanted. And, y¡¯know, figuring out what the actual fuck was happening. Because I was possessing someone right now¡ªacross the very space. Lotte had some explaining to do when I got back.


    But for now? Even Belle¡¯s ritual could wait. My mind was working.


    I¡¯d heard whispers about kids vanishing in the lower district. Normally, a few missing brats wouldn¡¯t make waves¡ªnot in a place that big. But when it hit hundreds? That got people talking. And if the rumors were right, the ones getting snatched up were beastkin kids.


    What if this body belonged to one of those missing children? The question of why I was in her body could wait. First, I needed to get her somewhere safe. And figure out where I was. Even a single clue would do. The rest? I could handle it from my real body¡ªif it was anywhere nearby.


    They mentioned sewers, but Varkaigrad¡¯s sewer system was a labyrinthine shit-maze. A single point in there was like trying to pluck a gnat out of a swamp.


    Didn¡¯t get much time to stew on it, though¡ªbecause above me, the stone cover shifted.


    Ah. Showtime.


    I had the element of surprise. And I knew these bastards weren¡¯t here to give this girl a warm welcome. The second the cover was lifted, that suspicion became fact.


    Oh.


    It¡¯s you.


    Pointy ears. Elf.


    THESE FUCKING POINTY-EARED, SAP-SUCKING TREE-HUMPERS.


    Elves. The universe¡¯s answer to the question ¡°What if ivy learned to sneer?¡±


    The bastard¡¯s face split into a grin the moment he saw me sprawled over the corpse.


    ¡°Oh, you filthy little bitch. You¡¯re so fucking done! You ran when you saw us gut your little friend¡ªdon¡¯t worry, you¡¯re next!¡±


    I let him monologue. Always do. Arrogance makes for such a pretty blindfold.


    His hand dove for my hair.


    Mistake.


    A single thought from me, and his neurons flickered in my vision. His hand twitched, faltered¡ªmissing its mark. His jaw dropped in confusion, just enough to fall right into my reach.


    Ahhh, it¡¯s been too long.


    My small hands lashed out just as his fingers sank into the rotting mess beneath me¡ª


    ¡ªand clamped onto his fucking jaw.


    With nothing but raw strength, I gripped tight. He tried to jerk back, but too late¡ªthe matrix on my right hand flared to life.


    Darkness Tendril.


    A shadowy coil lashed out, seized his throat, and pulled as I ripped his lower jaw clean off.


    Crunch.


    The sound was¡­ cathartic. Like snapping a crab leg at a feast. His scream? A symphony. A dying teakettle dueting with a gutted hog.


    The jaw came off cleaner than a butcher¡¯s cut. Meat and gristle dangled. He staggered, gargling on his own surprise.


    Sloppy. But entertaining.


    I hoisted his head¡ªtwo-handed grip, like a toddler clutching a melon¡ªand introduced it to the coffin¡¯s edge.


    SLAM.


    Iron sang.


    SLAM.


    Bone mulch.


    SLAM.


    Silence.


    A notification blinked. I mentally punted it into the sun.


    Elf Number Two froze. Piss trickled down his leg. His courage had apparently relocated to his bladder.


    He ran.


    Predictable. Pathetically predictable.


    Thunder Verdict runes ignited in my core. My clawless hand flexed.


    His neurons lit up like festival lanterns. One twitch¡ª


    ¡ªhis femur torqued.


    The scream was better than the first. Higher pitch. More¡­ florid.


    He crawled. I followed.


    ¡°Shh,¡± I cooed, stepping on his shattered leg. ¡°We¡¯re just getting to the hands-on portion.¡±


    His whimpers were a lullaby.

 Chapter 116: Stagnant Filth

    Didn¡¯t take long before I tore him apart. Literally.


    What was left of him? A mess of shredded limbs and glistening entrails. Took me a while to adjust to my high strength stat¡ªunless my opponent had the durability of a fortress, I didn¡¯t even need magic to turn them into a violent smear. Just impatience.


    Iron had been an exception. I struggled, because, well, he was durable. Metal Pathway plus those draconic scales made him a bastard to crack. Nearly losing to him left a itch between my ribs¡ªthe kind that only a rematch (and his femur as a toothpick) could scratch.


    [You have slain an Elf - Level 25 Intermediate Fire Mage (III)/Level 3 Butcher (I)]


    [You have slain an Elf - Level 22 Arcanist (III)/Level 4 Armorer (I)]


    [Experience Points acquired]


    [Alignment activities detected! Additional Experience Points acquired!]


    Curious. Still no quest. The system remained silent, uncharacteristically so.


    Maybe I wasn¡¯t in my own body? That could explain the discrepancy. My physical form usually dictated how the system interacted with me¡ªmonsters got quests, non-monsters didn¡¯t. But if I wasn¡¯t in my draconic body, what did that mean?


    Whatever. Not the time to dwell.


    The second thing that tugged at my mind was the extra experience. Judgment-based. But how did it work?


    Did it function based on my concept of right and wrong? If so, that was concerning¡ªmy morality was flexible, pragmatic. Did it take into account my beliefs, weighing actions by how I justified them? Or was it something external, determined by some universal scale? A preordained, cosmic law that decreed this is righteous, this is evil¡ªand simply let me play executioner?


    And if it was based on my own perception, did that mean my morality would start feeding into itself? A feedback loop where every act of judgment reinforced my role? Like sharpening a blade on the whetstone of my own convictions, honing myself into something cold and absolute.


    ¡­Was that dangerous?


    Or was that just power?


    I shook my head.


    No answers yet. Just more questions.


    I spat blood (not mine) and surveyed the carnage.


    The real centerpiece of this little house of horrors was the cluster of coffins. Black metal. Tough. Their lids gleamed with an oily sheen, etched with runes that hinted at¡­ processing. Air Sense still sharp, I pried one open. Then another. Counted ten bodies inside, all preserved in unnatural ways¡ªmarked skin, missing eyes, surgical incisions carved with cruel precision.


    Mostly beastkin, but elves and humans were in the mix too. No one had been spared. A few were warped past recognition, limbs bent in impossible angles, flesh twisted like something had tried to reshape them and failed.


    Against the far wall, their little toolbox of torment: scalpels, hooks, vials of liquid. I plucked one up and sniffed. Another. A few more. Paralytics, healing potions, something meant to force a person awake as they bled out. That last one had my mind drawing conclusions it would¡¯ve rather avoided.


    Yeah. This was a goddamn experiment lab if there ever was one. And judging by the architecture, this wasn¡¯t some temporary slaughterhouse¡ªit had been built with the sewers. Which meant this had been going on for a long, long time.


    A sick feeling curled in my gut.


    If we were inside Varkaigrad, then something truly fucked was festering down here.


    I couldn¡¯t afford to linger. Needed to move. But before stepping out, I scrutinized the runes on the entrance¡ªone last check for alarms or nasty surprises. Nothing. Just a high-quality illusion veiling the chamber.


    Satisfied, I stepped forward, bare feet meeting the cold, grimy stone. This body was small. Scrawny. By any standard, this little Drakkari couldn¡¯t have been older than twelve. Small hands. Fragile frame. Bruises layered over her like a second skin, remnants of a beating she had no chance to fight against.


    The pain hummed beneath my awareness¡ªnot sharp, not crippling, just a dull, constant whisper. I¡¯d endured worse. Limbs severed, bones twisted, the agonizing rebirth of mutation. This? This was nothing more than a background melody, a gentle reminder that the body still lived.


    The tunnel split the moment I stepped out¡ªtwo paths, left and right.


    I glanced back. Where the chamber had been, an illusory wall now stood, seamlessly blending with the sewer¡¯s stonework. Invisible to the eye, but the smell lingered¡ªrot, chemicals, the unmistakable stink of suffering. Someone sharp enough would notice something was off.


    No visible markings to indicate how the elven cultists kept track of this place. No symbols, no hidden carvings. Which meant they had a different way of finding it. Tools? Magic? Either way, it didn¡¯t matter.


    What did matter was my next move.


    The tunnel stretched before me. Walls slick with dampness, its air thick with the smell of stagnant filth. The ground sloped ever so slightly downward, moisture pooling in uneven dips, reflecting the dim, sickly glow of bioluminescent fungi clinging to the ceiling. Thick pipes lined the walls, some rusted, some leaking a viscous sludge that slithered into the rivulets of wastewater snaking along the floor.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Soooo¡­ Left or right?


    Logic hissed forward. Peek behind the sewer¡¯s filthy curtain. What¡¯s the worst that could happen? This flesh-suit wasn¡¯t mine. Snip the tether, ghost out, let the girl¡¯s corpse become someone else¡¯s problem.


    My other self recoiled.


    She was alive. A kid who¡¯d clutched that pendant like it was the last raft in a shitstorm. I¡¯d skin my enemies alive and nap in their ribs, but this? Leaving her here to choke on dread? Felt like swallowing broken glass.


    Guilt? Nah. Guilt¡¯s for people who apologize.


    This was¡­ worse. A feral, gnawing refusal. I wouldn¡¯t be the kind of rot that uses a soul as toilet paper and flushes. Survival¡¯s one thing; cowardice reeks louder than a goblin¡¯s underpants.


    Priority one: haul this kid¡¯s ass to sunlight.


    I reached out, feeling the surrounding air currents.


    Wherever their base was, it had to be deeper in¡ªlikely sealed off or underground¡ªmeaning it would disturb the airflow less. So, I focused on the right side. A few breathing signatures flickered at the edge of my senses, distant but present. The air here felt more stagnant.


    I frowned, analyzing further. The air to my right was slightly cooler, suggesting an exit leading to the surface. A pressure difference between the sewer and the open air above meant fresh air would naturally trickle down through atmospheric mixing. A faint, outward-moving breeze carried that coolness¡ªlikely my way out.


    Without hesitation, distortion flickered around me as I moved. Exploring could come later; first, I needed to confirm the exit. A few signatures stirred in the tunnels around me, but none were immediate threats.


    Then, something new caught my attention. Mana lamps¡ªhere, in the sewers?!? The first one came into view, metallic and embedded into the wall. It struck me that, despite being underground, I¡¯d never truly experienced darkness down here. Some kind of sickly light had always been present, whether from bioluminescent fungi or something else.


    I pressed a small hand against the engravings. Metal. Sturdy. Old.


    "Light that keeps encroaching darkness at bay¡­." I muttered, reading the inscription.


    Every lamp bore the same message. And somehow, I doubted those cultists had put in the effort to install them. No, these had been part of Varkaigrad¡¯s sewers since their construction. But what kind of darkness had they been meant to hold back?


    Baffling. But only slightly.


    I crept toward the source of the fresh air, cautious and deliberate, only to freeze as a ripple of breathing signatures prickled at the edges of my Air Sense. A step closer, and they multiplied like weeds after rain. My frown deepened. Cold wind¡ªyes, unmistakably from this direction¡ªbut why a crowd at what should be the exit?


    I could still retreat, but a stubborn thought coiled around my resolve. A peek wouldn¡¯t hurt. Just a glance. No meddling. Absolutely none.


    With Phantom Dragon Dance cloaking me, I edged closer. The air was so thick with overlapping signatures that my Air Sense blurred, a cacophony of life muddling the edges of perception. Ahead, an archway yawned open, revealing a single elf stationed there, hands clasped in a mockery of prayer.


    Dark mana hummed through my veins as I wove a matrix, each strand of the hex carefully, silently spun. The elf didn¡¯t notice. He didn¡¯t notice my approach either.


    Sleep.


    He crumpled before he even had time to flinch. Quick, quiet, efficient. I stepped forward, my bare, dirt-smeared foot raised¡ªthen brought it down with unceremonious brutality. His skull caved like overripe fruit, a muffled crunch that didn¡¯t even echo. Notification flashed, but I ignored it.


    Lightning here would¡¯ve been flashy, sure, but too loud. Too bright.


    Noise wasn¡¯t my concern here, though. Not with the steady hum of sound emanating from further ahead.


    Flattening myself against the wall, I slipped closer, peering past the curve of the archway. What I saw chilled the blood in my veins.


    A vast cylindrical shaft descended into darkness like the gullet of some ancient beast. Balconies jutted out from the walls at intervals, semicircles of stone that overlooked the abyss. I stood in one such alcove, my vantage perfect, if not for the scene below.


    In the center of the shaft, illuminated by an eerie, flickering glow, stood an altar. No, a statue¡ªan enormous hexagon with a skeletal figure suspended upside down at its heart. My vision swam as I looked at it, a stabbing headache threatening to split my skull.


    Around the altar lay a trench filled with bodies. Corpses, stacked like discarded refuse. Beastkin. Humans. Elves. Even dwarves, their stout forms unmistakable. Each one bore the same grotesque signature: a gaping void where their hearts should have been, edges charred in the same unnervingly perfect shape.


    From beneath the altar, little drains carried a constant trickle of blood, channeled through carved grooves that led to the statue¡¯s base. A deliberate design. A system. The sacrificial pit never dry.


    Surrounding it, a crowd murmured in hushed reverence. Hooded robes concealed their forms, but their pointed ears betrayed them¡ªelves. All of them.


    But what caught my eye wasn¡¯t them. It was the child on the altar.


    A Faerin. Fox-kin. Naked. His body covered in glowing runes, resignation dulling his wide, terrified eyes. He lay beside the cursed statue that gnawed at my skull. Still. Silent. He knew what came next.


    And so did I.


    An elf stood over him, dagger clutched in reverence, poised for the final cut.


    Another sacrifice. Another body for the pile.


    Beneath my skin, something stirred. An anger so deep it slithered through my bones, too familiar, too grotesque. It coiled around me like an old friend, whispering, gnashing, demanding.


    My glare locked onto the lead figure¡ªthe one with the dagger. His robes, more ornate than the rest. The leader.


    He whirled, voice rising above the murmurs.


    ¡°Our moment is near. Lord Styn Lor has spoken His verdict. We follow the will of our Goddess¡ªnot the falsehoods whispered in the hollow halls of those pretender churches!¡±


    A murmur of agreement. Some clenched their fists. Others lowered their heads in fervent prayer.


    ¡°They have strayed! They cower in their temples, preaching watered-down lies. But we know the truth. We are the bearers of Her true word. The first to heed Her will. And soon, we shall reclaim what was stolen from us¡ªwhat these filthy beastkin dared to defile with their unworthy hands!¡±


    A swell of voices. Conviction. Worship.


    His gaze swept across them, fevered.


    ¡°It has begun to stir beneath us, deep in its sacred slumber. It awakens. And when it rises, we will be the first to grasp it!¡±


    The crowd exhaled as one. A prayer. A promise.


    The dagger tilted, silver glinting under the sickly light. Then it caught fire.


    A sickly green flame, unnatural and writhing, crawled from the elf¡¯s hands, wrapping around the blade like a serpent coiling around its prey.


    ¡°Witness it, My Lord!¡± he cried, voice trembling with devotion.


    The fox-kin child did not move.


    But I did.


    A flicker, a twitch, a single command to thousands of neurons in the lead cultist¡¯s hands.


    His rage, his conviction, his body¡ªall betrayed him.


    Fingers stiffened. Refused to obey. The dagger tumbled from his grasp, fire and all.


    Be it instinct, desperation, or something rawer¡ªthe boy saw his chance.


    His small hands lashed out, snatching the falling dagger mid-air, the flame licking at him, his fingers, his skin¡ªbut he did not falter.


    Before the lead cultist could even process his own rebellion¡ªbefore his face could twist in confusion, in horror, in fear¡ª


    The boy drove the burning dagger straight into his chest.

 Chapter 117: Crunching Skulls

    It was the quiet breath before a throat-slitting.


    The leader stared down at the burning dagger buried in his chest, and the moment his brain caught up with his eyes, the blood drained from his face. Dramatic. I figured he had to be a red-core, maybe high yellow at worst¡ªstrong enough to take a dagger through the heart and walk it off with some gritted teeth and a bit of luck.


    What I didn¡¯t expect was for him to scream like a gutted hog, heels slamming against the stone as he turned tail and ran.


    Then came the headache¡ªsharp, gnawing, and dragging me under like lead in my skull. That damned statue. The skeletal figure, humming, its eerie resonance twisting in my gut. A shadow tendril shot up from its grotesquely open maw, and pain ripped through my skull. Not just me¡ªthe cultists too, convulsing as the effect hit.


    Except for the boy.


    The sacrificial lamb, still slippery with fear, had somehow bolted past the altar¡ªgood instincts, shit sense of direction. He was running, clutching his head from the pain, but straight into an elf-infested corridor.


    Fantastic.


    I wasn¡¯t far from the ground floor. My thoughts clawed through the pain, grasping at the shreds of a plan. Maybe. Just maybe.


    Lightning flickered through his nervous system, synapses flaring in my vision. I yanked the reins of his brainstem, forced his head to turn, and¡ªfuck, fuck, the backlash sent molten spikes through my skull, the spell shattering immediately.


    But it was enough. His gaze snapped toward me as I waved like a madwoman. Hopefully, he saw me. Bonus points if he recognized this body.


    Then¡ªsnap. The statue''s tendril lashed out, slicing through the air, chasing the fleeing leader. His screams turned raw, desperate, but the tendril didn¡¯t give a single shit. It plunged into his back like a lance.


    A strangled shriek. The runes along the tendril flared.


    I half-expected his heart to vanish, same as every other poor sod dumped into the surrounding moat. What I didn¡¯t expect was the statue¡¯s hum slamming into my mind, heavy, undeniable¡ª


    Disapproval.


    It didn¡¯t like this sacrifice.


    And just like that¡ªboom.


    And then he exploded. The leader¡ªgone. Reduced to a fine mist of gore and entrails. No careful siphoning. No methodical draining. Just raw, visceral rejection. Apparently, he hadn¡¯t been ¡°processed¡± like the rest, and the statue wasn¡¯t one to accept sloppy seconds.


    Whatever.


    The eerie hum slithered back into silence. The cultists were recovering. And they were screaming.


    There¡¯s a particular breed of chaotic havoc that erupts when you watch your almighty leader pop like an overripe melon, showering you in viscera. The crowd reached a frenzied crescendo, a maelstrom of blind panic¡ªexcept for the few sharp enough to notice the Faerin boy bolting toward me. Somehow, through the gore-streaked confusion, they had just enough clarity to chase him. Priorities, even in panic: murder the child.


    Annoying. Like gnats at a banquet.


    Lightning flickered through their neurons, nerves lighting up like a festival as I wrenched my hand in a violent twist and their legs forgot how to leg. All four cultists in pursuit? Down they went. Screaming, convulsing, clawing at their legs¡ªsome sort of cramp, maybe. Didn¡¯t care. Not my circus. Not my clowns.


    A second spell matrix was already laced through my fingers.


    [Hex Hand].


    My dark magic repertoire was thin¡ªmostly utility, barely any offense¡ªbut that¡¯s exactly what I needed. The moment the boy crossed the activation radius, a massive runic circle unfurled beneath him. Shadow mana coiled into a shadowy claw, and I clenched.


    He flinched, wide-eyed and panicked, but then¡ªacceptance. No struggle. Just compliance.


    Good.


    Pulling him up took seconds. He was light, flailing, but manageable. The cultists were still screaming as I hauled him to me. Below, the cultists writhed. Above, my patience frayed. Time to scram.


    Fuck. I did tell myself I wouldn¡¯t interfere. Whatever twisted ritual they were cooking up wasn¡¯t my business. But something in me refused to let this innocent boy get turned into minced meat for whatever thing they considered god.


    No time for explanations. I grabbed his wrist, ignoring his startled shudder.


    ¡°We need to run.¡±


    But first¡ªone last thing.


    I let go, crouching over the elf whose skull was currently mush, courtesy of my feet. Ahh, what a satisfying crunch that had been. With a sharp tug, I ripped his robes from his corpse, shaking off the excess gore before shoving them at the boy.


    ¡°Wear them.¡±


    He was practically naked, runic inscriptions winding over his skin in eerie, arcane spirals. He knew he needed them. He wiped his tears, shivered, his face drained pale from horror¡ªand honestly? Me, standing over a crushed elf, bloodstained and utterly unfazed, probably didn¡¯t help either.


    Tough shit. He¡¯d just have to deal with it.


    He soon fell behind, his steps sluggish, pathetically slow compared to my pace. Annoying.


    With a frustrated growl, I doubled back and scooped him up in a princess carry. Light as a feather. He didn¡¯t resist. Good.


    Air Sense wouldn¡¯t do much for finding an exit beyond mapping the tunnels and flagging nearby presences. Last time I¡¯d chased the promise of fresh air, I¡¯d landed squarely in a cultist¡¯s nest. Lesson learned.


    I¡¯d just run and hope to crash into something resembling an exit.


    Breathing signatures¡ªtwo up ahead, one to the left.


    I took left.


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    An elf. Pompous little shit locked eyes with me, fury twisting his dainty features. Then¡ªlike a dumbass¡ªhe charged.


    ¡°Stop right there¡ª¡±


    Well, that didn¡¯t last long. Lightning jolted through his legs, and I took a moment to borrow control. My finger spun in a lazy gesture¡ªdidn¡¯t even finish his sentence before his worthless legs betrayed him. He went down, face-first into the sludge like the piece of shit he was. Pathetic.


    The last thing those beady little eyes saw? A filth-streaked foot slamming into his skull. Once. Twice. THRICE.


    Crunch. Wet. Deep. Final.


    Felt good.


    The brat in my arms shivered. He¡¯d live. He¡¯d deal. But if he vomited on me, I¡¯d drop him.


    Seriously, what the actual fuck was this pointy-eared moron thinking? Charging me¡ªme¡ªlike he stood a chance? I was a blood-drenched fiend stomping through the muck, and he ran at me like some righteous hero? Delusional.


    Tch.


    The bastards had warned the entrance might be riddled with traps. Of course there¡¯d be traps. The fate loved a punchline, and I was its favourite jester.


    I exhaled slow, nostrils flaring, bare feet sloshing through filth. Needed to stay sharp.


    Because of course¡ªof course¡ªnothing in this wretched world ever came easy for me.


    ***


    Zofia drifted down the snow-laden streets of Shadow¡¯s Warren, her lexicon clutched tight against the cold. The so-called "lexicon" was little more than a stack of battered papers hastily bound together, but it was hers all the same. The chill bit deeper this morning, a frosty souvenir from last night¡¯s snowfall, which had blanketed the world in inches of white.


    Yet the streets buzzed with life. Kids scurried about their daily tasks, boots crunching through the snow as if the cold were nothing more than a playful rival.


    Zofia had overheard talk of new job openings surfacing soon¡ªonce this Monster Wave finally ebbed. She clung to the hope of securing something, anything. She trusted in herself. Sure, folks like her¡ªscraping by at the bottom rung¡ªhad little chance of scraping together the coin to learn a Pathway or cultivate their cores and step into the ranks of adventurers. But Zofia didn¡¯t dwell on the impossibilities.


    Opportunities always surfaced, and she¡¯d learned to be satisfied with what she could find.


    Her grip tightened around the lexicon as she turned into a narrow alleyway. Before long, she stood before a small, crooked building wedged awkwardly between two towering structures. Its cracked plaster and weathered stone blended perfectly with the neighborhood¡¯s general state of disrepair. Above the door hung a modest sign, its letters slightly faded but legible: Lily¡¯s Charms and Curios.


    Zofia hesitated, nerves prickling her skin despite the cold. Taking a steadying breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The smell of caffeine hit her instantly, warm and inviting. From the little attached kitchen, Lady Lysska¡¯s figure loomed in motion, hands deftly flipping a piece of toast on a sizzling pan, eggs hissing and popping to the side.


    Zofia¡¯s stomach growled traitorously, a rather sharp reminder of how long it had been since she¡¯d last eaten. Two days? Maybe more. She¡¯d gone longer before, though, and she wasn¡¯t about to let her hunger ruin her composure now. Not in front of Lady Lysska. Schooling her expression, she held her chin high, as though her stomach hadn¡¯t just declared war on her dignity.


    Without even turning, Lady Lysska¡¯s voice floated over the sounds of the kitchen. ¡°Welcome, Zofia.¡±


    ¡°Three minutes late,¡± she said, her voice calm but laced with the faintest hint of dismissal. ¡°Shall I presume the snowflakes conspired against you?¡±


    Zofia closed the door behind her with a soft jingle of the bell overhead punctuating her entrance. She bit back a frown. What did Lady Lysska think she was¡ªsome helpless street rat? ¡°Pathways iced over,¡± she replied, her tone even. It wasn¡¯t entirely a lie, though the real reason was her mother¡¯s illness. She¡¯d spent the morning handling housework before coming here, but Lady Lysska didn¡¯t need to know that. ¡°It won¡¯t happen again.¡±


    Lysska finally turned, her sharp amber eyes sweeping over Zofia with unnerving precision, her long ears twitching faintly as if catching unspoken truths. ¡°Good. See that it doesn¡¯t. Second chances expire faster than milk in summer." A finger tapped the table. "Progress?"


    "Yes," Zofia blurted, a little too quickly. Her fingers brushed over the small, budding horns on her head before she caught herself and dropped them.


    "Your annotations... I''ve been cross-referencing the runic syntax." The symbols sprawled in her mind like a drunk spider''s diary - all cryptic loops and maddening implications. But she had been practicing. Diligently, even. After all, Lysska had offered to help find her sister without demanding a single coin. That kind of generosity didn¡¯t come without strings.


    It was the scripting language of the continent¡ªevery enchanter knew it, breathed it, etched it into the world itself. Learning to read and write it was non-negotiable if she ever wanted a respectable job in enchanting.


    What she still didn¡¯t understand was why this was the price for Lysska¡¯s help.


    Lysska arched an elegant eyebrow, her hands moving with practiced grace as she plated the sizzling breakfast without so much as a glance. Her faint smile sent a shiver down Zofia¡¯s spine. Lysska had a knack for being unnervingly composed. ¡°Trying isn¡¯t doing, Zofia. I¡¯m expecting better results this time.¡±


    Zofia¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. She wanted to say she was confident, but it was hard to feel that way under Lady Lysska¡¯s gaze. There was a weight to her presence that made boasting seem foolish. ¡°I¡¯m doing the best I can,¡± she said, her voice quieter now. But there was something she needed to ask. ¡°I just¡­ need to know you¡¯re still looking for her.¡±


    Lysska¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. She seated herself with effortless elegance and gestured for Zofia to sit beside her. Zofia complied, though her movements felt clumsy in comparison. ¡°I told you, Zofia. I¡¯ll find her. That hasn¡¯t changed.¡± Lysska pointed at the lexicon with the spoon she was using to stir her coffee. ¡°But you need to hold up your end. That¡¯s the deal.¡±


    Zofia nodded, fully aware of the bargain. Even if it seemed like Lysska was doing all the heavy lifting, she couldn¡¯t afford to falter. ¡°I won¡¯t let you down,¡± she said firmly.


    ¡°Good.¡± Lysska leaned back, letting the single word linger for a moment before continuing. ¡°And, as you probably suspect, your sister isn¡¯t the only one missing. My people are working on pinpointing where they all went. I might have some leads.¡± Her tail flicked toward a pinned map behind the counter, its districts spiderwebbed with crimson thread. ¡°Sorry it¡¯s taking a while, but I¡¯d rather not rush and botch things with whoever¡¯s behind this.¡±


    ¡°Whoever?¡± The word tumbled out of Zofia before she could stop herself.


    ¡°Yes, abductors,¡± Lysska clarified, her tone matter-of-fact. ¡°Did you think children just vanish into thin air on their own?¡±


    Zofia had no answer for that. She didn¡¯t know. She only knew that her sister was gone¡ªout playing one day, and then...nothing. It had been a week since then, a week of gnawing uncertainty and fragile hope that her sister was somehow, somewhere, safe.


    Her fingers instinctively clutched the pendant around her neck, the movement catching Lysska¡¯s sharp eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never mentioned that pendant before,¡± Lysska remarked, taking a sip of her coffee. Her gaze flicked to the plate of bread and eggs sitting suspiciously closer to Zofia than to her. ¡°A keepsake from your mother, maybe?¡±


    Zofia shook her head, even as her stomach growled softly. ¡°It¡¯s¡­we both had identical ones,¡± she said, hesitating only slightly before slipping it off. She held it out. The pendant gleamed, metallic and intricate¡ªa hiltless sword encircled by two spiraling, ribbon-like waves. ¡°I¡¯ve had it as long as I can remember. Never taken it off. It represents our ancestors, the Scaled ones. She has one too and always prays to it before bed. Mother said these were blessed. Protective.¡±


    ¡°Protection requires understanding what one guards against.¡± Lysska¡¯s finger hovered above the pendant without touching it. The air hummed. ¡°This isn¡¯t Vendic steel. Nor dwarven alloys.¡± She leaned closer, pupils slitting. ¡°Interesting,¡± Lysska murmured, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.


    She seemed on the verge of saying more, but her focus wavered, her expression tightening into a frown. Her eyes narrowed as they darted to the window, her posture subtly tensing.


    ¡°Well,¡± she said after a moment, her tone brisk, ¡°finish your breakfast. While I¡¯d love to test how far you¡¯ve come in your practice, I need to close up. Something¡¯s come up.¡±


    Zofia blinked, startled. ¡°My breakfast?¡± she echoed, as if the concept of finishing food was suddenly foreign.


    Lysska¡¯s amber eyes pinned her in place. ¡°Do you need me to repeat myself? Eat. Quickly.¡±


    That tone was enough to spur Zofia into action. She dove into the plate, hunger battling her attempt at maintaining some shred of dignity.


    Between bites, she asked, ¡°Is it something urgent? You seem¡­in a hurry.¡±


    Lysska didn¡¯t look up as she disappeared briefly into the back room, emerging moments later in another robe. ¡°Urgency is the Warren''s native tongue,¡± she said, cinching the robe¡¯s sash with practiced ease. ¡°But this time¡­¡± She glanced at Zofia, her expression softening just enough to let a playful gleam slip through. ¡°I might have some good news about your sister.¡±


    Zofia¡¯s heart skipped, her breath catching in her throat. But before she could press for details, Lysska was already moving toward the door. With a quick scrub of her hands on her clothes, Zofia scrambled after her, only catching up as they stepped outside.


    Lysska winked. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

 Chapter 118: Late

    The murky waves of ink-black ichor receded, leaving the water eerily still as my eyes snapped open, dragging me back to the comfort¡ªor relative comfort¡ªof my own dragon body. My gaze darted over the surface, scanning for any sign, any ripple, anything at all. But there was nothing. Just the quiet retreat of the dark tide. My chest tightened.


    Hell, how was I supposed to know I was working against a damn timer? Only in the final moments did I realize that the thread tethering me to my body was thinning, unraveling like a fraying rope. Instinct whispered that snapping it myself might¡¯ve worked, but with the way it was dwindling, it seemed just as likely to snap all on its own. A ticking clock I hadn¡¯t even noticed until it was almost too late.


    I¡¯d run like mad, tearing through a maze that felt less like a sewer and more like the fever dream of an architect who hates clarity. I could only hope I¡¯d put enough distance between those kids and the cultists chasing them. Would be a damn shame if, after all that, they still got caught.


    But hey, not my circus, not my monkeys¡ªnot anymore. I did my part, and then some. My goal? A simple, clean escape. What did I actually do? Saved a sacrificial lamb, sent the ¡°alleged¡± head cultist to an early grave, sprinkled in a generous helping of chaos, and even bagged a shiny new level after redecorating the floor with a few smug elven skulls.


    All in an hour¡¯s work, really.


    Still, the conclusion didn¡¯t sit right with me. Sure, I¡¯d made their lives harder, but had I actually stopped them? Not quite. And the real kicker? I was still flying blind. No solid intel on where these cultists were holed up, no guarantee those kids made it out, no satisfying ending tied up in a neat little bow.


    I did glean something from that smug leader¡¯s rant, though: a mention of something awakening, something beastkin had supposedly stolen from the elves¡ªsomething the cultists were hellbent on reclaiming. Whatever it was, it didn¡¯t sound like the kind of thing you¡¯d want to unwrap under the Solstice tree. Still, I¡¯d botched their plans a little, maybe more than a little. Killing a high yellow core¡ªor what might¡¯ve been a red core too¡ªhad to count for something, right?


    My attention shifted back to the tunnel around me, the still water, the oppressive quiet. What in all the burning hells was that? I had possessed someone, controlled their body like some ghostly puppet master. My own body felt foreign now, as if coming back to it left a lingering disconnect.


    Peering closer, I finally caught sight of something I¡¯d missed before: faint, nearly invisible markings etched beneath the water¡¯s surface. The whole tunnel seemed divided into sections, twelve in total¡ªsix on each side, forming a rough square if flattened out. One of these segments was where I¡¯d seen that girl earlier. Now, it was as empty as the rest. Except¡­ one section stood out.


    The markings there were faintly lighter, a subtle tentacle of dark ink swirling at its center. Intriguing. I tried to interact with it¡ªpoke it, prod it, mentally scream at it¡ªbut nothing happened. No clue what it meant, but it felt important.


    My gaze followed the tunnel to where it ended. And with a sinking feeling, I realized the only creature who might have answers¡ªthe only other dragon I knew¡ªwasn¡¯t likely to share them without a fight. Oh, the delight of dealing with her again.


    Still, she had a penchant for breadcrumb trails, and right now, I¡¯d take whatever scraps she tossed my way. Call me hungry, but I¡¯d gobble them up. Better than being left in the dark.


    That was if it lead me to her. So I moved, towards the supposed entrance to my ¡®dream.¡¯


    ***


    The water rippled once and receded as I stepped through, its surface smoothing back to an unnatural stillness. My entrance wasn¡¯t unlike that of Alice¡¯s, like stepping through a rippling puddle in reality itself. A curious phenomenon, to say the least.


    On the other side, an endless grassland stretched out before me, flanked by a looming mountain of black scales. Not a mountain in the literal sense, mind you. The "mountain" shifted, revealing itself for what it truly was as a familiar draconic face peeled away from a massive rocky outcropping. Lotte. Her colossal mug turned slightly toward me, her crimson eyes gleaming with that annoyingly self-assured glint.


    Her voice slithered into my mind, smug and rich with amusement. "It appears you''ve had quite the eventful excursion today."


    ¡°Ooh, ¡®eventful¡¯ is putting it lightly, Lotte. Try something in the realm of bizarre.¡±


    Without waiting for her to prod, I launched into the story, regaling her with everything that had happened moments before. The possession. The tether. The ink-stained chaos. Every vivid detail spilled out like water through a cracked dam.


    When I finished, she paused. ¡°Fascinating..."


    I blinked at her, incredulous. ¡°Fascinating? That¡¯s all you¡¯ve got? Lotte, I possessed someone! And while I¡¯m not about to ask you for a dissertation on how or why¡ªbecause we both know you¡¯d give me nothing but riddles anyway¡ªdid you at least know this might happen when you gave me this¡­ this second method of entrance?¡±


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Her gaze lingered on me, unblinking, before she finally spoke. "The potential always lurked beneath the surface, though I must admit, I did not foresee you plunging into it so... unreservedly. Most tread cautiously, skirting the edges of the unknown, content to gaze upon its depths without daring to breach them. But you?" Her mouth curved in what might have been a draconic smirk, if her face wasn¡¯t the size of a hill. "You do not merely step beyond thresholds; you fling yourself past them with reckless abandon, heedless of what lies beyond. And the further you submerge yourself, the more the established order frays. Predictability dissolves into irrelevance. Some doors, once unsealed, refuse to close. Or worse, refuse to let go."


    I groaned dramatically, flopping onto the grass like a deflated marionette, my claws sprawled uselessly toward the heavens. The vast expanse of sky seemed indifferent to my theatrics, though that didn¡¯t stop me. ¡°Whatever it was¡­ it was interesting. I¡¯ll give you that much.¡±


    Lotte¡¯s massive draconic head shifted slightly, her tone dripping with bemusement. "I trust you found the experience... diverting."


    ¡°Hah, diverting¡­¡± I huffed, a wry smile tugging at my snout. ¡°Well, kind of. On that note¡ªwas my aggression heightened when I body-swapped? It felt like my very thoughts were taking a sharp turn into¡­ vulgarity and violence.¡±


    Her crimson eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "That, of course, hinges entirely on the nature of the soul whose flesh you briefly commandeered."


    ¡°Huh¡­¡± I idly raked my claws through the grass, tail flicking as I mulled it over. ¡°No wonder my head felt like it was shoving vulgarity and violence into every available crevice. My thoughts weren¡¯t nearly as¡­ well, refined as they are now.¡±


    Not that I¡¯d ever delude myself into thinking I was graceful¡ªperish the thought¡ªbut I¡¯ve always had a flair for verbal carnage. I can flay someone with words so elegantly they won¡¯t even notice they¡¯ve been reduced to smoldering metaphorical ashes until they try to breathe and choke on the soot. A damn sight better than just barking ¡®moron¡¯ at someone.


    Maybe it was Lotte¡¯s influence. She had a talent for weaving truths into intricate little knots, never quite handing me the full picture¡ªalways leaving me to untangle her riddles.


    So much fun.


    She didn¡¯t say anything else, her silence an answer in itself. There went my hopes of prying more information about this bizarre possession phenomenon from her. Still, I knew Lotte well enough to trust her judgment. If there had been any danger, she¡¯d have told me outright¡ªher one exception to her own self-imposed rules about withholding knowledge. At least I had that reassurance.


    Would I do it again, though? This whole body-possession¡­ thing? If given the chance? Probably. But first, I needed to figure out what made someone eligible to be possessed in the first place. Those twelve segments in the water tunnel weren¡¯t just there for decoration¡ªthey had to mean something. Twelve candidates, maybe? Made sense. I¡¯d have to map it all out later, connecting the dots and forming some kind of working hypothesis.


    But not right now. This whole strange escapade had almost derailed me from my real purpose here: a final talk with Lotte before initiating the ritual to convert Belle into my supplicant.


    I had questions. Specifically about the alternate ingredients I¡¯d purchased, all bearing similar properties but slightly divergent effects. Pale Jasper Seeds, rumored to enhance ritual resonance; Gildroot Sap, said to bind mana more efficiently to the recipient¡¯s core; and Ashen Feather Moss, which supposedly provided an extra layer of protection to fragile mana conduits. All exotic, all expensive, and all worth the effort if they worked.


    And then there were the oh-so-practical trifles¡ªthe circle¡¯s alignment, the mana conduits¡¯ sturdiness, and, most importantly, whether I could soften the blow of the transformation¡¯s side effects. Supplicant rituals, as my ever-mighty draconic mentor would remind me, were less a process and more an intricate dance. A single errant step could crack the delicate harmony between the supplicant¡¯s essence and the dominant core. In the context of these rituals, cores weren¡¯t just players¡ªthey were the orchestra, the conductor, and the damned stage. Botching it? Out of the question. Not with Belle at stake.


    After a quick exchange of words, I began to think I might¡¯ve been stressing over nothing. Lotte waved my worries off with a nonchalance that would¡¯ve been comforting¡ªif it weren¡¯t Lotte. This was the same dragon who once deemed Mirror Summoning an easy task. Mirror Summoning! As if summoning a Netherbeast with my mana reserves barely scraping the bottom of the barrel wasn¡¯t borderline suicidal.


    So yes, I was sprinkling her "A trivial endeavor, really" with a heaping fistful of salt. Still, she managed to toss me a few useful breadcrumbs, which I gratefully gathered. I nodded along, filing away her warnings: the importance of the central circle, the art of disguising my handiwork, and the ever-reliable reminder to prepare wards.


    Wards. The last time I attempted this, I had no mana, no wards, and absolutely no budget for the materials. But this time? Thanks to Gwen¡¯s ¡°kind¡± pocket money support, I could scrape together enough coin to afford the basics. Rich? Hardly. Prepared? Better than last time.


    Once everything was in place, it was time to leave.


    ¡°...But how do I leave now?!¡± I muttered, realization hitting like a hammer to the skull. Leaving before had been as simple as simulating an awakening and letting the dream unravel around me. But now? Awake and very much here, that escape route seemed less¡­ plausible.


    "Simply retrace your steps," Lotte said, utterly unbothered.


    I scowled but decided not to argue. If the way in was being yanked by claws spun from eerie whispers, then descending back out should, in theory, work the same way.


    I closed my eyes and focused, summoning the memory of those spectral claws. Immediately, the whispers stirred, soft and sinister, brushing against my mind like shadows with teeth.


    They came, curling around me like a net of phantom tendrils, and yanked me downward. The descent felt like sliding through clouds woven from fragmented murmurs¡ªlayer upon overlapping layer of voices, their meanings tangled and indecipherable.


    And then, with a jarring slam, I was back.


    Staggering, I barely managed to keep myself upright. Hah. Victory.


    ¡°Welcome back, mistress,¡± Alice greeted, her tone as chipper as ever.


    ¡°Good to be back,¡± I muttered, glancing around.


    One look out the window and I groaned. Morning. Morning?! How long had I been gone? I¡¯d hoped to finish everything today, but that plan had been thoroughly derailed.


    I sighed. The ritual would have to wait. Vasilisa was already suspicious enough without me disappearing at dawn to fan the flames. Evening, then. Tonight.


    For now, I¡¯d just have to bide my time.

 Chapter 119: Impending Chaos

    Morning rituals were nothing special¡ªthough the day always started a bit sweeter when no apprentices were underfoot. The bathhouse was mine alone, steam curling like a contented cat as I steeped in water just shy of boiling. Let lesser creatures yelp at the temperature; only scalding depths could unknot the coiled fire in a dragon¡¯s spine. Blissful, scalding solitude.


    Of course, the moment couldn¡¯t last. Soon enough, I was drying off, gearing up to play the part of the haughty, poised lady. A role I¡¯d slipped into so often it didn¡¯t even feel like acting anymore. Perhaps I¡¯d been born with a crown in my veins¡ªor maybe I¡¯d been a natural diva all along. Either way, the courtly pantomime held.


    My footsteps echoed down the corridor, a rhythmic click that faltered only once when something odd tugged at my senses. I frowned but kept walking. It was subtle, yet distinct: multiple breathing signatures clustered in the garden outside the dormitory. Another handful lingered inside, making no effort to hide their presence. Curious.


    The dorm warden was stationed in her usual spot. Figuring she¡¯d be a decent source of gossip, I sauntered over, exchanged greetings, and dropped a vague hint about the mysterious presences. That was all it took for her to perk up and spill.


    ¡°Oh, those are from the Iron Pact,¡± she said with a cheerful shrug. ¡°Nothing to worry about, it seems. Though I don¡¯t know their exact purpose. I was just told to accommodate their requests.¡±


    The Iron Pact? Here? Now that was intriguing. What business could they possibly have in this corner of the world? I thanked her, my eyes flitting to the enforcers decked out in their elaborate attire. Maybe this had something to do with Vasilisa¡¯s recent grumbles about sabotage, though it felt misplaced. Why poke around here instead of sniffing out trouble where it actually brewed? Curious, but not my circus, not my monkeys.


    Alice fell into step beside me, her glance at the enforcers as casual as her shrug. I took that as my cue to move on. If it didn¡¯t involve me, I wasn¡¯t losing sleep over it.


    Reaching my workstation on the second floor, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. Among my many treasures were some delightfully illicit poison ingredients I¡¯d been itching to experiment with. Today felt like the perfect day to brew something particularly lethal¡ªfor my own enjoyment, of course. A truly dangerous drink, one that might just knock me flat if I mixed it right. My kind of beverage.


    First, I needed to process the contraband before anyone got nosy. That, and finish the potions and elixirs due for the week. No rush, though. I still had four days to spare, and the only real headache came from hawk-eyed Vasilisa, who had a knack for catching even the tiniest slip-up. Personally, I didn¡¯t see how anyone managed to botch basic potions. Never had that issue myself.


    Still, appearances had to be maintained. I put together a batch of standard-issue potions on the side while brewing my clandestine cocktail. My mouth watered in anticipation. Just a little longer, and the first sip would be mine.


    So engrossed was I in my work that I almost missed Miss Petrov¡¯s approach. Almost.


    ¡°Productive as ever, I see,¡± she remarked, gimlet eyes narrowing at the frothing brew. To her, it likely resembled mundane health potion. Probably. Only Vasilisa¡¯s hawk-nose might detect its true nature: a concoction where one drop could depopulate a hamlet. Possibly.


    ¡°That I am,¡± I replied smoothly, adding, ¡°Personal research.¡± Confidence was armor; I wore it like scales.


    ¡°So I¡¯ve observed.¡± she said, tone as neutral as ever.


    Well, that¡¯s mildly unsettling. Miss Petrov didn¡¯t usually linger unless it was to greet me at the start or end of my shift. Twice now, though, she¡¯d shown up mid-session. Once was already odd. Yesterday, it had been to confirm I¡¯d been sneaking out after curfew.


    Bollocks.


    Had I messed up again?


    She spared me the suspense. ¡°Whatever fresh mischief you¡¯ve hatched, Vasilisa demands your presence. Again.¡±


    Welp. That settled it. I glanced at Alice, who was still lounging nearby. She gave me her signature noncommittal shrug.


    Marvelous. Had Vasilisa turned bloodhound? Installed some hex or enchantment in my room to sniff out my extracurriculars? Nah, that seemed a little far-fetched. Besides, Belle would¡¯ve spotted something like that and warned me.


    Keeping my face as blank as a freshly wiped slate, I stood and headed toward the back office. The usual clutter greeted me, but this time, Vasilisa wasn¡¯t alone.


    My gaze immediately landed on the hulking rakari¡ªa lion-kin warrior I recognized all too well. It was him. The one who came when I oh-so-generously injected Iron¡¯s posterior with poison. He was fully armored, a massive broadsword hovering ominously at his side.


    And then there was the other one. An older drakkari with a beard that could house a family of sparrows. Both sets of eyes locked onto me as I stepped inside. Their postures shifted ever so slightly, muscles tensing, like I was about to pull out a knife and start a brawl.


    Stolen story; please report.


    Weird.


    ¡°Does she match your description?¡± Vasilisa asked, skipping right past her usual pleasantries.


    Huh. No barbed greeting? No lecture on tardiness? Straight to the blade¡¯s edge? Oh, this reeked of pyre smoke.


    The older drakkari spoke, his hands swirling in an intricate motion. A matrix of light began to form, and that was all it took for Alice to startle. Without so much as a warning, she dove straight into the floor, vanishing from sight. And no, I¡¯m not being poetic¡ªshe literally plunged into the solid floor like it was a pond.


    I permitted myself precisely one arched eyebrow.


    Meanwhile, the drakkari¡¯s spell circle blazed to life above him¡ªa brilliant formation of light mana, adorned with runes and an ominous eye at its center. His expression darkened as the intricate display was suddenly engulfed by inky, swirling darkness.


    ¡°She matches the description,¡± he finally said, his voice low and gravelly. ¡°But... there¡¯s no mark on her. Not even a hint of lingering water mana.¡± His frown deepened as the circle fizzled out.


    ¡°Are you certain, Warden Vorak?¡± the rakari rumbled, his deep voice carrying skepticism. ¡°This scrap of a girl¡¯s your divination prize? No error in your¡­ arts?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m damn sure,¡± Vorak replied, with the confidence of someone who¡¯d bet his pension on it. ¡°When a divination is this clear, I snapshot every detail. Trust me¡ªthis is the one.¡±


    With that, he stepped toward me, his sharp gaze locking onto mine. ¡°The doll hasn¡¯t sunk its hooks yet¡ªbut it will. You¡¯ll answer plain, girl. Lie, and I¡¯ll taste it in your pulse.¡±


    My gaze instinctively flicked toward Vasilisa, wordlessly asking for an explanation. Why was I suddenly being interrogated by these enforcers? And how did they already know about Alice? Could it mean she wasn¡¯t just some stray oddity but something these Iron Pact people were actively keeping tabs on?


    Alice had mentioned waking up in a dark place before. Weak seals. An escape. It added up¡ªshe might¡¯ve broken out of their HQ.


    Vasilisa nodded once, granting me permission to speak. I nodded back, keeping my expression neutral.


    ¡°Great,¡± Vorak said. ¡°Have you experienced any unusual fatigue lately? Difficulty staying awake? Strange dreams?¡±


    Ah, time to play the truth game¡ªmy way. Roundabout answers were my forte.


    ¡°Yes, I felt fatigued yesterday morning,¡± I said, pausing for a heartbeat. ¡°Though when you survive on one hour''s sleep, grogginess becomes someone else''s problem. As for strange dreams? Nothing unusual. Same old, same old.¡±


    Vorak¡¯s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing my every word. After a tense moment, he nodded.


    ¡°Have you heard anything odd when alone? Dripping water? Whispers? Voices?¡±


    Tricky territory. But rules were made for bending. "A phantom noise, once. Yesterday''s dawn¡ªwhen exhaustion chewed my senses ragged. No repeats since."


    Vorak turned to the rakari, who gave a nonchalant shrug. ¡°She¡¯s telling the truth, Warden.¡±


    Vorak sighed, rubbing at his eyes as if this whole situation had aged him. ¡°Still, this is... problematic. I didn¡¯t expect the cursed artifact to display this level of intelligence. To stay under the radar for this long¡ªand not affect the only lead we had on it.¡±


    The rakari stepped forward, his words rolling out in a gravelly cadence. ¡°Perhaps we escort her to Fang¡¯s Ascent. If the doll¡¯s weaving subtle threads, we could test for compulsions there¡ª¡±


    "Enough." Vasilisa''s voice froze the room mid-breath. "You''ve squandered my apprentice''s patience with your parlor tricks. Did I invite you to haul her off like contraband?"


    The rakari¡¯s jaw twitched as he opened his mouth to argue, ¡°Master Vasilisa, protocol demands¡ª¡± but Vasilisa clipped him with a single, slicing word.


    "Silence."


    The room chilled, the air tightening like the prelude to a winter storm.


    ¡°Master Vasilisa,¡± Vorak tried again, this time with a veneer of respect, though his brows betrayed their twitching annoyance. ¡°Surely you grasp the stakes. If this artifact¡ªthis doll¡ªis present, it¡¯s a powder keg waiting to ignite. A danger to your apprentice, and everyone else nearby.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m well aware of the stakes, Warden. I¡¯m also aware that your case hangs on shadows and whispers, and I will not have you dragging my apprentice off to Fang¡¯s Ascent on a hunch dressed up as evidence.¡±


    The rakari sighed, heavy and theatrical. ¡°I understand your concerns, but rest assured, my blade-sworn are shadows in daylight. She¡¯d return unscathed.¡±


    Vasilisa¡¯s lips curved in a blade-thin smile. ¡°Once, Andrzej, when your oaths still held weight, I might¡¯ve considered it. But now, no one is taking her from this place, and that¡¯s final. Search the premises if you must, tear the walls apart if it makes you feel productive¡ªbut my apprentice stays put until the one targeting my business and my people is dealt with.¡±


    The protest died in their throats as her finality sunk in, leaving them deflated, their earlier bravado snuffed out.


    For once, I was grateful. People who could sift lies from truth are dangerous to someone with secrets worth keeping. And I had plenty. A silent thanks to Vasilisa for fending them off.


    Dismissed with a curt word, I turned my focus back to alchemy. As I stepped out of the frost-bitten room, Alice drifted up through the floorboards as if she hadn¡¯t just vanished earlier, her movements as seamless as breathing. Whatever she was before, it had clearly attracted all the wrong attention. Iron Pact enforcers prowled the grounds like vultures scenting a storm, though for now, I was safe enough.


    I slipped into the rhythm of alchemy, the bubbling vials and faintly acrid smells lulling me back into focus. But paranoia lingered like a shadow; my senses stayed sharp. Trouble didn¡¯t knock again, but I had the distinct feeling it was biding its time. Alice, at least, was adept at keeping herself hidden.


    Instead, Viera found me. She appeared as usual, exchanging pleasantries before trailing me back to my room. Once inside, I closed the door and felt the familiar hum of the wards locking into place.


    ¡°So,¡± I asked, leaning against the workbench, ¡°any updates?¡±


    ¡°Hah, not really. Father¡¯s still out and hasn¡¯t returned yet.¡±


    Work in progress, I thought. Still, the Iron was perfectly poised for questioning¡ªthey just needed to act before their lead cooled or something worse happened.


    Viera¡¯s fingers knotted the hem of her sleeve, a tic she¡¯d never outgrown. Courage, it seemed, was still a currency she struggled to spend.


    I arched a brow. ¡°Out with it. You¡¯re about to combust.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡ª¡± She inhaled, steeling herself. ¡°My family¡¯s hosting a ball. For my eighteenth. I thought¡­ perhaps you¡¯d grace the madness?¡± A brittle laugh. ¡°No obligation, of course! I just thought¡ª¡±


    Her words trailed off, her thumbs twiddling like nervous little cogs.


    Even as she spoke, my brain was already sprinting ahead. Sasha, that saryn girl, had mentioned something about planning a surprise for a friend¡¯s upcoming birthday. And that friend, as luck would have it, was stationed in the Alchemy Tower.


    Why did this reek of impending chaos?

 Chapter 120: Infected

    Assumptions were like unstable elixirs¡ªbest not bottled until the ingredients were confirmed. First, I needed to verify if Viera even knew a Sasha. Her sect might¡¯ve been a minor branch grafted onto the city¡¯s ruling family tree, but even saplings could trip you if you ignored their roots. The upcoming birthday ball would undoubtedly swarm with high-society hornets, some from the very hive of the ruling clans.


    That turned the whole situation into a delicate balancing act. But what really gnawed at me was Sasha¡¯s peculiar shopping habits. Tampering with Parda was banned for a reason. Throw in the cryptic mention of a teacher, and this reeked less of amateur dabbling and more of a cauldron left boiling unattended. Curiosity or conspiracy¡ªeither way, it demanded a chemist¡¯s precision, not a bystander¡¯s shrug.


    Still, I had to handle this with finesse. The last thing I needed was to send Viera¡¯s suspicions scurrying in my direction.


    I reclined in my window-side chair, its adjacent apparatus snoozing like a dormant dragon. My eyes feigned interest in parchment while my mind rehearsed conversational gambits. Across the room, Viera perched on my bed, honeyed hair cascading over her shoulder as she dissected my research notes with the precision of a starved scholar. Her murmured commentary¡ªthis is actually kinda insane (guilty), how¡¯s this even possible in practice? (care to place a wager?), this defies at least three natural laws (objection noted), who even tests these hypotheses? (volunteers welcome)¡ªdrifted through the air. I¡¯d never admit it, but her scrupulous eye for detail made her the ideal beta reader, even if alchemical theory eluded her like a greased salamander.


    We awaited Belle¡¯s tea, which Viera now craved like a desert fern awaiting rain. My little badger had a gift, and I couldn¡¯t help feeling proud every time someone praised her brewing skills. But enough distractions.


    Leaning back, I folded my arms and looked up at Viera. ¡°You seem like you¡¯ve got a lot on your plate these days,¡± I said, keeping my tone casual.


    Her gaze flicked up, curiosity cutting through the haze of notes. ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Well, your birthday ball and all that. I hear those things tend to be about more than just the dancing and the food.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that.¡± She sighed and set the stack of notes aside, organizing them with a precision that spoke to how much her father had drilled etiquette into her. ¡°You have no idea. My father¡¯s been breathing down my neck, making sure every detail is perfect. As if I don¡¯t already have enough on my plate with my studies here in the tower.¡± She threw her hands up in exasperation. ¡°Sometimes I wish I could just skip the whole thing. Not that I don¡¯t want the ball, I just wish I didn¡¯t have to deal with the prep.¡±


    ¡°Sounds exhausting,¡± I said, watching her expression shift before shrugging lightly. ¡°Personally, I wouldn¡¯t worry about all the high-and-mighty guests. But I guess it¡¯s nice to have friends to look forward to seeing, right? I bet they¡¯re all buzzing about it.¡±


    Her eyes lit up at that, and she grinned, her earlier frustration evaporating. ¡°Oh, Jade! Since you¡¯re coming¡ª¡±


    ¡°I never said that,¡± I cut in smoothly, leaning forward just enough to catch her off guard. ¡°I said I¡¯m not opposed, but I haven¡¯t decided yet.¡±


    "Well, you didn¡¯t exactly say no, so that¡¯s a win in my book. I know you¡¯ll come.¡± She flashed a grin, quick and confident. ¡°And about friends? You¡¯ll meet them eventually. My circle¡¯s pretty tight-knit¡ªsmall, sure, but quality over quantity, right? You¡¯d like them, maybe. I just wish I could spend more time with them, you know? But Father insists on packing every event with dignitaries and socialites. The people I actually care about? My friends? They¡¯re not the ¡®grand ball¡¯ type.¡±


    I cocked my head, a lab-owl feigning innocence. ¡°Hypothetically, if I hypothetically attend¡­ enlighten me. Who¡¯s who in this menagerie?¡±


    She paused, her gaze narrowing as she absently rubbed her chin. ¡°Well, there¡¯s Rhys, obviously. We¡¯ve been best friends since we were kids. Took different paths for a while¡ªhe¡¯s training with the Iron Pact now. Then there¡¯s Kara. She¡¯s always busy these days. Something about discovering a ¡®secret pathway.¡¯ And¡­¡± Her voice tapered off, her brow furrowing like she was trying to dredge up a half-buried memory. ¡°Sasha. Recent addition. Chatty, perpetually peckish. But she¡¯s sharp¡ªreally observant. I like that about her.¡±


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Bingo. That didn¡¯t take long. Theory confirmed.


    ¡°Sasha, huh?¡± I kept my tone light, my mind already piecing together a picture. ¡°Sounds like a solid crew. But you said she¡¯s new?¡±


    Viera shrugged, brushing it off. ¡°Oh, yeah. She¡¯s Saryn¡ªserpent-kin, if the name didn¡¯t give it away. She¡¯s got these incredible bronze scales¡ªreally striking. She¡¯s still adjusting to city life, though. Comes from some extended branch of the Sablethorn Sect. Used to live deep in Skal¡¯Vareth Forest, apparently. When she first got here, she couldn¡¯t stop gawking at everything. It was kind of adorable.¡±


    Things were starting to line up. Sasha wasn¡¯t playing dumb earlier¡ªshe genuinely seemed out of her depth. But innocence and ignorance weren¡¯t synonyms. Time to dig a little deeper.


    ¡°She sounds interesting,¡± I offered, leaning forward just slightly. ¡°It must be refreshing, having someone like that in your circle. A grounding influence, maybe?¡±


    Viera chuckled. ¡°You could say that. She¡¯s a breath of fresh air, honestly. Still figuring herself out, but it¡¯s endearing. Lately, she¡¯s been borrowing my books. Trying to pick up a new hobby, I think¡ªalchemy, maybe? She¡¯s been cagey about it, but I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s it. She even mentioned a mentor. Honestly, I¡¯m happy for her. Maybe she¡¯ll whip up something to surprise me on my birthday.¡±


    Cute. The word curdled in my mind. Alchemical texts. A shadow tutor. Mirror-summoning supplies slithering into her satchel. Her forest roots explained the black-market blunders, but not the why. Why Parda pollen? Why now? The equation refused to balance¡ªyet.


    "That¡¯s generous of you, sharing your books," I said smoothly, my tone light but carefully calibrated. ¡°You must trust her quite a bit.¡±


    Viera blinked, tilting her head with faint curiosity. ¡°Of course. She¡¯s even helping with the ball¡ªgot her mentor involved too. Said I should let her shoulder some of the burden. So yeah, I trust her. Why?¡±


    The more she spoke, the more my suspicions twisted, tangling into a web that refused to unravel.


    ¡°Oh, no reason,¡± I said quickly, standing and brushing nonexistent dust off my sleeves. My mind, however, raced. The moment she mentioned Sasha¡¯s mentor being involved with preparations, alarm bells rang loud and clear. It was too close to my theory¡ªthat someone was nudging Sasha toward a mirror summoning, or worse. ¡°Merely making conversation. People rarely hold my interest, but yours? They¡¯re¡­ quirky.¡± I let the word dangle, harmless as a cobweb.


    Through my air sense, I caught the faint movements of Belle, balancing a tea tray on her back and beginning to approach. I flicked my gaze in her direction and shook my head subtly. She stopped immediately, retreating without a sound. Good girl.


    Meanwhile, my hands drifted toward the alchemy apparatus on the workbench, fingers deftly finding three vials in an open drawer. I let out a small, deliberate sigh. ¡°What¡¯s taking so long?¡± I called, faux irritation sharpening my tone, glancing toward the adjoining kitchen. Belle lingered there, waiting. ¡°Belle, you brewing a novel back there?¡±


    The real reason for my caution? Mirror summonings weren¡¯t just complicated¡ªthey were dangerous. For me, they¡¯d been laughably simple because I¡¯d offered my own dragon blood, which Lotte once compared to a thousand small sacrifices wrapped in one neat package. Plus, the ritual I used had been designed by Lotte herself, a masterstroke of efficiency and cost-effectiveness.


    But whoever was attempting one here? They wouldn¡¯t have my advantages. They¡¯d need a power source to sustain the ritual. If Sasha¡¯s mentor was involved, and if my instincts about their intentions were right, they¡¯d already started laying the groundwork.


    I moved toward the tea tray where Belle waited, pretending to inspect it. Viera, meanwhile, had returned her focus to my notes, her alchemical curiosity getting the better of her. Those notes were practically gold to someone like her¡ªirresistible.


    Quietly, I uncapped the vials and added precise amounts to Viera¡¯s tea. Quartz scale extract, charged in sunlight. One drop. Piezoelectric properties. Moonwater, three drops. Influences circadian rhythms. Lodestone liver extract, trace amount. Earth-aligned. Zero outer resonance.


    A simple concoction, but a telling one. This mixture was part of a project I¡¯d been chipping away at¡ªan attempt to study my own dimensional resonance, disrupted by my Dimensional Lamina¡¯s sync with the Shadow Dimension. The instability allowed me to phase and become intangible, a true ghost dragon, but keeping physical objects intact during the process¡­ Didn''t work. The eventual goal? Clothing and charms that would stick with me during transitions. For now, the compound was experimental, but it worked well enough as a diagnostic tool for detecting resonance anomalies.


    Once the tea was ready, I stirred it gently and carried the tray out myself. ¡°Here you go,¡± I said, handing Viera her cup.


    I wasn¡¯t expecting much. Maybe a faint shimmer of instability, a flicker of irregular resonance at best.


    But the moment Viera¡¯s lips touched the tea, the reaction was instant.


    Her teacup shivered, subtle, serpentine ripples skating across the surface. The air around her warped, a heat haze born of dimensional dissonance. My pulse spiked. Oh, this wasn¡¯t supposed to happen. My compound wasn¡¯t a litmus test; it was a goddamn alarm bell.


    Viera¡¯s resonance wasn¡¯t just unstable¡­


    It was infected.

 Chapter 121: Professionally Suspicious

    I snatched the cup from Viera¡¯s grip the second her mouth parted from the edge. Effortless, nonchalant¡ªas if the whole thing was a mirage. Once the brew left her fingers, the world clicked into place again.


    ¡°Huh, Jade?¡±


    ¡°Oops, my bad. Pretty sure that¡¯s Belle¡¯s mug¡ªshe tends to concoct her own peculiar brew.¡± I kept my voice airy, brushing it off. No reason to stir her suspicion.


    ¡°Ohhh,¡± Viera hummed, tracing her tongue over her lips. ¡°Makes sense with that dirt-kissed aftertaste. Tasty, though. Positive I can¡¯t keep sipping?¡±


    ¡°Then Belle would have to whip up a fresh batch. Best stick to your own steep,¡± I said, sliding her the backup cup and returning the first to Belle. She accepted it without a blink, drinking with serene satisfaction.


    It wasn¡¯t dangerous¡ªnot to Belle, at least. Her dimensional resonance was stable; nothing about the blend would affect her. And if she was into that aggressively organic flavor? Well, her enthusiastic gulps said it all.


    The tea ritual dissolved shortly after, and I waved Viera off. Heh. Something reeked of wrongness. But now, my hunches had crystallized. Whether Sasha herself or her alleged puppetmaster was tugging the threads, someone was exploiting her¡ªstraight-up or through proxies¡ªfor parda tempering. No doubt.


    I dropped into a chair, snatching up pen and parchment. Scribbling sorted me out. Mental chaos streamlined into ink, each sentence sanding rough edges.


    Dimensional resonance¡ªit was the focus of my research. A well-known spatial mana principle, born from the fusion of light and dark mana. But even on their own, those elements carried spatial properties.


    I only had dark mana, and that was the backbone of my dimensional lamina. It fed off my dark mana to destabilize my resonance, syncing it to the Shadow Dimension. Let me step through at will.


    There was a reason I checked Viera¡¯s dimensional resonance. When it destabilizes, it leaves people vulnerable¡ªopen to subtle tempering. My research on intangible entities, ghosts, wraiths, and how they latch onto this plane had all led to the same conclusion. The process wasn¡¯t flashy. It started small¡ªmental suggestions, siphoning energy, eroding autonomy bit by bit. That¡¯s how wraiths do it.


    They weaken someone¡¯s resonance. Infect it with their dark mana. Siphon just enough life force that, over time, the resonance itself becomes a tether. And once that breakpoint is reached? The connection stabilizes, linking the shadow dimension to the physical one. At that point, the wraith doesn¡¯t need to shift its resonance anymore¡ªit has a vessel. A body, nurtured just for it.


    They didn¡¯t just cross over. They rooted. That¡¯s what made them dangerous.


    But this? This wasn¡¯t a wraith. Wasn¡¯t anything from the Shadow Dimension. That, I knew in my bones. My senses were sharp enough to catch even the faintest ripple from that plane. And whatever had its hooks in Viera wasn¡¯t laced with dark mana. That alone ruled out any shadow-dwelling parasite. No, whatever was warping her resonance¡ªit was something else entirely. Undefined, but absolutely grade-A fuckery.


    This rot worked quieter. Precise. Some bastard had woven filaments through Viera¡¯s resonance¡ªnot to hijack, but to¡­ remodel. Like splicing a leech into a tree¡¯s vascular network.


    My pages sneered at me, a constellation of maybes without a nucleus. Switch gears.


    I needed an optimal strategy to investigate. First things first, though. I called out.


    ¡°Alice, can we divine Viera¡¯s immediate safety?¡±


    The doll¡¯s blindfolded gaze shifted toward me.


    I could¡¯ve asked outright, Is her life in danger? But that was too broad, too murky. What if the divination reached too far ahead? I needed clarity, not riddles. Divination was a fickle tool¡ªask too broadly, and you¡¯d drown in possibilities.


    Just a simple answer about the present¡ªjust enough to stall the clock, let me triage this mess.


    Before the inevitable shitstorm at this godsforsaken ball.


    Once again, Alice pulled out the blue mana crystal, its thin thread wrapped tightly around her fingers. She¡¯d been carrying that thing ever since our first divination with it. So we were rerunning the yes/no mana-rock roulette? This method deserved a less clunky title.


    ¡°What¡¯s this type of divination called, anyway?¡± I asked, scribbling down the question: IS VIERA SAFE AT THIS EXACT MOMENT?


    The gilt threads of Alice¡¯s blindfold flickered like faulty wiring as she ¡°sanitized¡± the space¡ªagain. Once finished, she turned to me with a tilt of her head. ¡°H-huh, mistress? I thought you already knew.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be daft. You know damn well I don¡¯t know manaroe shit when it comes to divination. I swear, this pathway is the most secretive, gatekept nonsense in all of magic.¡±


    Alice tapped her chin, then nodded. ¡°It¡¯s called Aetheric Pendulum Divination, mistress.¡±


    I handed her the paper, and she dangled the ¡®pendulum¡¯ above it, her movements practiced, precise.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    I was still curious. Would Alice actually explain how it worked? I tossed the question her way, half-expecting a vague answer¡ªor worse, another cryptic non-explanation. But, to my surprise, she actually indulged me.


    ¡°It hinges on resonant attunement,¡± she intoned. ¡°The stone mirrors the subject¡¯s live-frequency imprint. Dextral rotation signals synchronicity¡ª¡®affirmative.¡¯ Sinistral spin denotes discord¡ª¡®negation.¡¯ Should it¡­ vibrate midair, rejecting motion? Uncertainty manifests as inertial defiance.¡±


    Fascinating. I leaned closer as her blindfold dissolved, doll-eyes replaced by twin event horizons. The crystal pirouetted¡ªhesitant, then committed. Clockwise.


    ¡°So, she¡¯s safe. Temporarily.¡±


    ¡°¡®Temporarily¡¯ anchors the result, mistress,¡± Alice amended. ¡°The pendulum captures present-tense reverberations. A specter in sixty minutes? A dagger at dusk tomorrow? Statistically null. Your query was chrono-locked. The answer is¡­ hermetically sealed.¡±


    That was enough. At the very least, her unstable resonance wasn¡¯t an immediate threat.


    I let out a slow breath, glancing out the window. Evening was creeping in, and winter nights stretched longer than they should. The sun would set soon, and I¡¯d be sneaking out again.


    This time, Belle was coming with me.


    I needed to finish the ritual and bestow whatever power it would grant my precious badger. Then, I had to meet Whisper, finish investigating that rakari boy¡¯s missing employer to earn her trust, and finally share what I¡¯d learned about that strange drakkari¡ªthe one I suspected was that outlaw elf.


    And then there were the kids I saved from those sewer-dwelling elven cultists. The ongoing mystery of that elf. And now this looming disaster on Viera¡¯s birthday.


    ¡­huh?


    Weren¡¯t ¡°lay low¡± and ¡°stealth mode¡± on my fucking bingo card?


    Since when did my life become a revolving door of apocalyptic errands?!


    I collapsed backward, thumb and forefinger vise-gripping my nose.


    ¡°Alice,¡± I moaned, ¡°am I a chaos magnet?¡±


    The doll angled her head, expressionless as ever. ¡°Mistress¡­ magnets draw. You appear to¡­ emit.¡±


    Point fucking taken.


    ***


    Sneaking out was routine by now, but since Belle couldn¡¯t follow my usual route, she had to take the more¡­ conventional way out. Fortunately, being small and the night being dark worked in her favor. She slipped into one of the timely potion carts that always rolled in and out around this hour, vanishing among the crates without a hitch.


    We regrouped outside, where I shifted back into my drakkari form, quickly pulling my clothes on before securing Belle against my back with fabric straps and donning on my cloak. First stop: Lysska.


    Time to go.


    Before long, I stood once again in front of Lily¡¯s Charms and Curios¡ªWhisper¡¯s office. A few crows loitered on the nearby rooftops, their beady eyes tracking my every move. So she was watching. But something was off.


    The shop was empty.


    I frowned. What the hell? Whisper herself had told me to meet her tonight¡ªwas I early?


    Before I could dwell on it, my Air Sense tingled. A small figure had just materialized at the very edge of my perception, moving deliberately, stealthily toward me. I sharpened my focus, tuning in with my ears, tail, and instincts. I still couldn¡¯t see her¡ªsome invisibility trick, maybe an illusion spell¡ªbut that hardly mattered. Useless against me.


    She crept closer, reaching toward where I stood in the open doorway. I called out before she could try anything.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Whisper, Quickpaw?¡±


    Immediately, she flickered into view, red robe and all, pouting like a scolded kitten.


    ¡°Could¡¯ve feigned surprise! You and Whisper¡ªsame spoilsport vibe. One day I¡¯ll crack your detection trick and haunt you both into early graves!¡±


    Same song, hundredth verse. But I wasn¡¯t in the mood to humor her antics. I needed to talk to Whisper.


    ¡°Question still stands.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Quickpaw rocked on her heels, ears twitching. ¡°She got caught up with something. Something unexpected.¡±


    That had my ears perking. ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d have to ask her yourself. She was real cagey about it, didn¡¯t tell me much. Just told me to wait here and keep investigating. Said to follow your orders, which is weird, by the way! I¡¯m supposed to be your senior in this gang! Me¡ªtaking orders from a maybe-recruit? Humiliating!¡±


    ¡°Still a maybe.¡±


    ¡°Inevitable maybe!¡±


    ¡°Doubt it.¡±


    ¡°Ugh! Play along! Let me boss you once!¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Pretty please?¡±


    By Thalador¡¯s beard, did her energy ever deplete?


    I really should have performed Belle¡¯s ritual first. Whisper wasn¡¯t even here¡ªthis whole trip was a waste of time. But instead, I was stuck with Quickpaw, meaning I¡¯d have to wait to get the information I needed and wait to deliver what I had.


    Not ideal.


    And I definitely wasn¡¯t about to open up to someone like her. Quickpaw reminded me of that girl Sasha¡ªexcept more dangerous.


    We stepped inside the office, where Quickpaw immediately offered me a drink. I waved her off. Not in the mood. There was work to do.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s the first step?¡±


    Quickpaw flopped onto the sofa like a hyperactive housecat, grinning. ¡°You tell me, boss?¡±


    Boss. The word curdled in my gut. But orders were orders. Whisper had left me in charge, which meant this was a test¡ªone I wasn¡¯t about to fail. Since we were looking for a missing detective, the best place to start was obvious.


    I crossed my arms. ¡°Drop the ¡®boss¡¯ schtick. You¡¯re older than my bootlaces.¡±


    ¡°Aw, but hierarchy¡¯s fun.¡± She fake-pouted. ¡°Fine. What¡¯s phase one, craven?¡±


    ¡°Better.¡± I ignored the jab. ¡°We hunt where the ink¡¯s still damp. You know his nest?¡±


    ¡°Do ravens feast?¡± she shot back, twirling a lock of hair around a claw.


    ¡°Ravens also caw. Loudly.¡± I leaned in. ¡°Can you manage stealth, or should I muzzle you?¡±


    Her grin widened. ¡°Try it. I bite.¡±


    Hah. This girl. ¡°We start there. Look for clues.¡± And maybe, if I learned enough, I could send her away for a subtle divination from Alice.


    ¡°Sure! I¡¯d lead the way, detective!¡±


    ¡°But first,¡± she added, springing up, ¡°lose the mask.¡±


    I stiffened. ¡°Why?¡±


    She whipped out a brass badge, polished to a smug gleam. ¡°Licensed investigators don¡¯t skulk. Masks scream shady¡ªwe¡¯re respectable crooks.¡±


    Ah. Right. The gang¡¯s double-life legitimacy. I reluctantly peeled off the disguise, my pale face bared to the lamplight.


    Quickpaw mirrored me, pulling back her crimson hood to reveal a face all sharp grins and sharper eyes. ¡°See? Now we¡¯re just¡­ professionally suspicious.¡±


    And with that, we set out.


    Quickpaw led me through the lower district, but not quite toward the upper. Instead, we followed a twisting path through streets that almost felt respectable¡ªcleaner stone, sturdier buildings, fewer alleys filled with rotting wood and waste. Still a far cry from the middle district¡¯s polished grandeur, but an undeniable step up from where we¡¯d just been.


    Snow had begun to fall, drifting lazily through the dim glow of lanterns. I liked the snow¡ªsoothing, in a way.


    We stopped in front of a two-story building.


    ¡°This it?¡± I whispered. ¡°I thought you said this place was empty.¡±


    Quickpaw nodded. ¡°Correctamundo! Cozy crypt, zero tenants!¡±


    But I didn¡¯t move. My eyes twitched as I sensed.


    My frown deepened.


    ¡°Then why the hell do I detect, like, five people inside?¡±

 Chapter 122: Improvised Violence

    This place hummed with wrongness.


    I should¡¯ve arm-wrestled fate into giving me a divination scroll before coming here. Not that I hadn¡¯t tried. My request to Alice¡ª"Can¡¯t we divine the detective¡¯s current state?"¡ªhad been met with her patient sigh. Divination doesn¡¯t work on whispers and wishful thinking. No tether, no thread. No thread, no truth.


    Which is why I¡¯d grilled Quickpaw about Greg¡¯s lair earlier. A hairbrush, a sock, a coffee-stained case file¡ªany relic Alice could¡¯ve spun into golden insight. Instead, all I had was Whisper¡¯s dossier, tossed my way by the gremlin with all the ceremony of a banana peel discard.


    Greg Whittaker. Human detective. A low yellow-core Earth Pathwalker. Well-known in the lower district of Varkaigrad. He¡¯d made his name over five years, arriving here after leaving the Aurelia Empire. I didn¡¯t know exactly what cases he took on, but now¡­


    Now he¡¯d become a question mark wearing a trench coat.


    His house should¡¯ve been a tomb.


    It wasn¡¯t.


    The shapes I detected were clustered on the first floor, all seated in the same room, silent. Not moving. Not speaking. Just¡­ waiting.


    That wasn¡¯t normal.


    But the only way to get answers lay ahead.


    Alice¡¯s voice chimed softly in my mind. ¡°I could make a quick divination to check for danger inside, Mistress.¡±


    I almost raised an eyebrow. I really needed to get into the habit of using divination more with Alice here. Plus, I had a grumpy badger strapped to my back¡­ or maybe not. Belle was definitely asleep. Lazy badger. I really needed her to learn how to hide herself like Alice could.


    A micro-nod to Alice¡ªQuickpaw wouldn¡¯t spot it. The mana crystal emerged, its glow turning Alice¡¯s blindfold into a lattice of liquid sunlight as she purified the air.


    ¡°So¡­¡± Quickpaw drawled, spinning a dagger on her fingertip. ¡°Squatter convention in there, yeah? Wager five silvers says they¡¯ll bolt if I lick my blades just so.¡±


    What lunar madness had birthed this greasy little gremlin?


    ¡°We don¡¯t know if they¡¯re squatters, hired muscle, or grieving book club members.¡± My voice stayed syrup-smooth. ¡°They could be Greg¡¯s captors. Or his cairn.¡±


    Her grin sharpened. ¡°Touch¨¦, gumshoe junior.¡±


    ¡°Faux confusion,¡± Alice murmured. ¡°Needle-sharp curiosity beneath. She¡¯s taste-testing your resolve, Mistress.¡±


    Obviously. No gang viper survived this long without venom behind the vapid smiles.


    The divination crystal twitched like a hound on a scent. Alice¡¯s porcelain palm faced the house, her pendulum scribing warning glyphs in the air.


    "Peril nests here."


    "Peril nests here."


    "Peril nests here."


    The crystal shivered, then spun like a compass needle drunk on starlight. Clockwise.


    "Moderate threat tier," Alice translated. "Proceed¡ªbut let your knuckles kiss the door, not your neck."


    I turned to Quickpaw. ¡°We¡¯re model citizens today. No breaking, no entering¡ªjust polite inquiry.¡±


    Her gasp could¡¯ve inflated a hot air balloon. ¡°Ooooh, straight-laced and saintly! Brilliant stratagem, oh fearless leader!¡±


    I let the ¡°leader¡± jab slide. Three firm knocks rang out¡ªjudge¡¯s gavel cadence.


    Quickpaw materialized at my elbow, a Cheshire shadow. Alice stood beside me like a wraith carved from moonlight.


    The figures inside stirred immediately. A rustling of movement¡ªwere they regrouping? One peeled away from the room on the first floor, descending the stairs, while four others slunk into the hallway, pressing themselves against the walls. My Air Sense couldn''t catch what they exchanged, but I could picture it: silent signals, tension coiling like a sprung trap.


    Yeah. Bad feeling about this one.


    The door groaned open just a sliver, just enough for a sliver of polished steel-gray to gleam through¡ªa uniform, rigid and pragmatic, all rivets and cold discipline. The Iron Pact¡¯s Enforcers. A Drakkari stood behind it, his face cut from stone, eyes two slits of skeptical amber. A sigil on his pauldron gleamed: scales wrapped in chains. "Order Through Obedience." The Pact¡¯s creed.


    ¡°State your business.¡± His voice grated like rusted gears.


    Alice¡¯s whisper feathered my ear. ¡°Irritation simmers beneath his protocol, mistress. He anticipated quarry¡­ smaller. Hostility muzzled, not declawed.¡±


    I clasped my hands¡ªall innocence and apple pie. ¡°We¡¯re investigating Greg Whittaker¡¯s disappearance. As concerned¡ª¡±


    ¡°Licensed investigators,¡± Quickpaw interjected, shouldering forward. She produced a copper badge stamped with a two-headed hawk, brandishing it like a royal flush. Still not sure if her detective credentials were real or just some of Whisper¡¯s forgeries. Knowing Whisper, she probably had an entire fake career built around it.


    ¡°Casefile 43-B, Missing Meatbags Clause. You¡¯ve read the civic harmony pamphlets, yeah? Play nice, get nice?¡±


    The enforcer¡¯s gaze flickered to the shadows where his men lurked¡ªone coiled in the closet, two perched ceilingward like stone gargoyles. My Air Sense tingled as they repositioned. Since when did evidence sweeps require ambush formations?


    ¡°Credentials,¡± the Drakkari growled.


    Quickpaw was already smug, spinning the badge between her fingers. ¡°Vyra Vasaio, Varkaigrad¡¯s finest¡ªwell, third-finest snoop, after Greg and Miss Great Lysska herself. This is my associate.¡± A casual thumb jerked in my direction. ¡°J¡ª¡± She paused a beat. ¡°Venam! Yeah, she¡¯s Venam.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. Really? That¡¯s what we were going with? But fine. I rolled with it.


    Belle stirred lazily against my back before promptly deciding whatever was happening wasn¡¯t worth her time.


    The enforcer studied the badge, nostrils flaring with the acrid scent of burnt oil. Not doubt¡ªrage.


    ¡°His orders,¡± Alice murmured, ¡°are written in vanishing ink. Denial would require¡­ creativity he lacks.¡±


    After a glacial pause, the enforcer stepped aside, hinges screeching protest. ¡°Five minutes. Disturb nothing. This is Pact-scoured ground.¡±


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    ¡°A lie plated in rust,¡± Alice breathed.


    Didn¡¯t need her to tell me that.


    I hesitated. Quickpaw, of course, didn¡¯t. She grinned and sauntered in like she owned the place.


    The door swung wide, revealing a foyer steeped in dust and the sour tang of neglect. Normal enough. But I didn¡¯t trust the shadows here¡ªnot with four stealthy bastards wedged into them. And Quickpaw¡¯s absolute gremlin energy wasn¡¯t exactly helping.


    ¡°Cheers, tinman!¡± she chirped. ¡°We¡¯ll be sublimely discreet.¡±


    If glares could kill, Quickpaw would¡¯ve been vaporized on the spot. But they couldn¡¯t, so we moved in.


    Alice walked beside me. ¡°His gaze bores into your back, mistress. Spoiling for justification. Tread as though the floor¡¯s eggshells laid by vipers.¡±


    The floorplan mocked simplicity¡ªlobby, office, kitchen, stairs to a threadbare life above. All I needed was one strand of Greg¡¯s essence: a toothbrush, a nail clipping, a love letter to his barber. Alice could spin a breadcrumb into a banquet.


    Should¡¯ve been easy.


    If not for the four Pact-shaped tumors metastasizing in the walls.


    Were they even Iron Pact? Because I had a really, really bad feeling about this.


    The bedroom door hulked at the top of the stairs, its wood grain sweating unease. The enforcer trailed us, knuckles bleaching around his sword¡¯s grip.


    I played the oblivious tourist.


    The search began immediately. I went for the bed first, rifling through sheets and pillows with methodical intent. Quickpaw hovered nearby, looking like she wanted to ask what I was after but kept quiet¡ªprobably reassured by the confidence in my movements.


    The enforcer was right beside her now.


    Needles of instinct jabbed my spine. I whirled¡ªjust as his blade became a mercury streak aimed at Quickpaw¡¯s jugular.


    ¡°WATCH OUT!¡±


    Too slow.


    Oh, Thalador.


    But then¡ªher grin widened a fraction before her form scattered into shimmering motes of light. The sword sliced through empty air. An illusion. The enforcer, thrown off by the momentum, stumbled forward.


    I couldn¡¯t see her, but I knew. Quickpaw had slipped right under his strike, reappearing behind him in the next instant. Only now, she wasn¡¯t unarmed.


    A glacial battle-axe, taller than her wiry frame, materialized in her hands. Frost cascaded from its rune-etched edge, almost crystallizing the air.


    ¡°Swing and a miss, rust-bucket!¡± she crowed. The axe descended in a cerulean crescent.


    The Drakkari enforcer reacted fast, tapping his buckler. A shield of light flickered to life just in time¡ªbut the supernatural cold of Quickpaw¡¯s weapon flash-froze everything on impact. With a fluid twist of her wrists, she redirected her swing upward. The shield shattered into icy shrapnel, shards peppering his exposed forearm.


    It all happened in seconds.


    More shadows stirred beyond the doorway. I didn¡¯t need Air Sense to hear them moving in.


    Fuck.


    What made him attack us now? The theory that these weren¡¯t Iron Pact enforcers was starting to make a disturbing amount of sense. That Drakkari boy¡ªthe one Greg worked with¡ªhad mentioned something similar, hadn¡¯t he? Someone in Iron Pact gear had been waiting at Greg¡¯s usual meeting place, then chased him down afterward.


    Focus. Theorizing could wait.


    Frost veins spidered across the floor as Quickpaw pirouetted, axe trailing frostfire. The enforcer tracked her next swing, wide-eyed¡ªthen raised his bare hand like a shield.


    Idiot.


    Frost met flesh. A severed hand clattered to the floor, followed by a howl. Quickpaw flipped her axe mid-swing, its blunt pommel kissing his temple.


    He crumpled like a marionette with severed strings.


    Two more imposters oozed from the shadows. One¡¯s spiked chain slithered like a metal serpent; the other¡¯s wrist-crossbow bore a bolt that simmered with alchemical spite.


    I cracked my knuckles, mana prickling at my fingertips. So much for diplomatic inquiries.


    Then again¡ªwhat harm in a little violence between acquaintances?


    The crossbowman didn¡¯t hesitate. His weapon hissed as it leveled at Quickpaw¡¯s spine, the golden bolt humming with malignant light.


    My will surged. Neural pathways ignited in my mind like a spiderweb struck by lightning. His nervous system bent to my grip.


    Twist.


    His wrist jerked sideways with a sick pop.


    CRACK!


    The bolt veered wildly, impaling a moth-eaten tapestry of some long-dead noble¡¯s hunting triumph. A stag¡¯s embroidered eye smoldered where the projectile lodged.


    ¡°Terrible aim,¡± I tutted, brushing dust from my sleeve. ¡°Do the Pact skimp on crossbow lessons¡­ or are you just naturally talentless?¡±


    Alice¡¯s laughter chimed like silverware dropped down a well. The second assailant lunged, his chain now writhing with spectral flames¡ªa serpent of fire coiling toward my legs.


    I retreated toward the bedframe, luring him into the room¡¯s cramped throat. Flames licked the air, singeing the wallpaper to charcoal curls.


    He stepped closer, chain whirling. Predictable.


    I feigned a stumble, clutching the bedpost. His lips split into a grin full of crooked, yellowed teeth.


    Idiot.


    Quick Dash.


    Stamina flared. One heartbeat, I was faltering. The next¡ªnose-to-nose with him, close enough to smell the rot on his breath.


    ¡°Knock knock,¡± I whispered.


    His chain arm froze mid-swing. I seized his wrist, fingers vise-locking around grimy armor. He snarled, yanking backward¡ªbut my grip was stone, blood, iron.


    Crunch.


    The sound of his metacarpals collapsing was a symphony: a walnut shell in a god¡¯s fist. His scream clawed the air, raw and wet.


    I leaned in. ¡°Shhh. You¡¯ll wake the neighbors.¡±


    My fist buried itself in his gut. He folded like a puppet with cut strings, hurtling backward into a dresser. Porcelain shepherdesses exploded¡ªa pastoral apocalypse of jagged shards.


    ¡°Oops.¡± I flicked ceramic dust from my knuckles. ¡°Hope those weren¡¯t heirlooms.¡±


    The crossbowman stared, pupils blown wide. Sweat gleamed on his brow. Delicious.


    Across the room, frost devoured the walls. Quickpaw¡¯s afterimages flickered¡ªthree mirrored smirks taunting the remaining enforcers. Their armor wept ice, joints creaking like ancient trees.


    One swung at the left illusion. His blade passed through smoke. The other hacked at air, steel biting nothing.


    The real Quickpaw materialized behind them, a specter in a frost-trimmed cloak. Her boot cracked into the first enforcer¡¯s knee.


    SNAP.


    The joint bent backward, a chicken wing torn from its socket.


    ¡°Tsk. Forgot to limber up?¡± She twirled her axe, its edge singing. ¡°Rigidity¡¯s a flaw, tin-can.¡±


    The blunt side hammered his temple. He dropped like a sack of anvils.


    The second enforcer slipped on ice-slick boards, cursing. Quickpaw¡¯s axe hooked his ankle.


    Yank.


    He fell hard, chin bouncing off the floor. A tooth skittered into the shadows.


    ¡°Oopsie.¡± She pressed a boot to his spine, voice syrup-sweet. ¡°Should¡¯ve worn¡­ traction.¡±


    The axe¡¯s pommel ended him.


    Only the crossbowman remained, backpedaling toward the door. Piss darkened his leggings. The room¡¯s cold gnawed his resolve to kindling.


    Quickpaw blurred. Her axe shrieked as ice geysered from the floor, entombing his boots.


    ¡°NononoNONO¡ª¡±


    She sprang onto the bedframe, a winter revenant poised for slaughter. The axe plunged¡ª


    And froze.


    The blade hovered a hair¡¯s breadth from his jugular, its edge kissing a bead of blood.


    ¡°...Boo,¡± she breathed, breath frosting the air.


    His whimper was a rat¡¯s death rattle.


    Then¡ªthe axe twisted, momentum defying physics. The blunt edge slammed his skull with a wet THUD.


    He crumpled.


    Quickpaw crouched over him, tilting her head. ¡°Aw. Didn¡¯t even scream.¡± She pouted. ¡°Rude.¡±


    The whole exchange hadn¡¯t lasted more than a few minutes.


    I glanced around.


    Five would-be enforcers littered the floor like broken marionettes¡ªgroaning, twitching, or blissfully unconscious. Quickpaw twirled a lock of her hair, her grin sharp enough to carve runes.


    I arched a brow at her. ¡°Let me guess¡ªyou expected this and planned for it?¡±


    ¡°Planned? Pfft. Plans are for alchemists and tax collectors.¡± She leaned casually against a frost-rimed bedpost, her axe dissolving into constellations of starlight. ¡°But hey, improv¡¯s my specialty! Like a¡­ chaos ballet. With more stabbing.¡±


    I eyed her warily. Her power simmered beneath the surface, a glacier hiding its depth. Low red-core? High yellow? Impossible to tell¡ªshe¡¯d barely broken a sweat.


    She nudged a mercenary¡¯s limp boot with her toe. ¡°Sooooo¡­ Iron Pact posers, right? No backup horns. No sigil flares. Just discount thugs in shiny cosplay.¡±


    ¡°Mercenaries,¡± I corrected, kneeling beside the crossbowman. His eyelids fluttered¡ªconsciousness returning in ragged gasps. ¡°Paid to mimic Pact protocol. Badly.¡±


    Quickpaw crouched beside me, elbows on knees. ¡°Wanna make ¡¯em sing? I¡¯ve got methods.¡± Her fingers mimed plucking violin strings. ¡°Twist a finger here, snap a toe there¡ªpresto! Human jukebox.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Boooo. You¡¯re no fun.¡±


    ¡°Fun¡¯s overrated. This is cleaner.¡± I retrieved a vial from my cloak¡¯s hidden lining. Inside swirled a cerulean elixir threaded with argent stardust¡ªtruth serum brewed under the weeping moon, untouched since its creation.


    Quickpaw¡¯s nose wrinkled. ¡°Ooooh, fancy kool-aid. What¡¯s it do? Make ¡¯em recite childhood trauma in iambic pentameter?¡±


    ¡°Quieter than your methods.¡± I uncorked the vial. The liquid hissed faintly, releasing a scent of frozen mint and iron.


    The crossbowman¡¯s eyes shot open. He tried to recoil, but Quickpaw pinned his shoulders with effortless glee. ¡°Hold still, sunshine. This¡¯ll sting¡­ psychically.¡±


    I tilted three drops onto his tongue. The serum ignited like swallowed lightning. His back arched, veins fluorescing cobalt beneath his skin. A guttural groan escaped him¡ªhalf agony, half involuntary confession.


    ¡°There we go,¡± I murmured. ¡°Now¡­ let¡¯s chat about who hired you.¡±

 Chapter 123: Milk the Mercenary! (In A Good Way)

    Interrogation, much like divination, was about nudging the mind into yielding its secrets¡ªprodding it with the right questions under the haze of a truth serum, guiding it to answers it couldn¡¯t help but give.


    The serum wasn¡¯t mind control. It didn¡¯t compel speech or plant thoughts. What it did was slip past the brain¡¯s inhibitory defenses, numbing the barriers of deception and greasing the wheels of impulse-driven recall. It coaxed truth from instinct, not force.


    Its effects targeted the prefrontal cortex and limbic system¡ªthe brain¡¯s gatekeepers of restraint¡ªdulling their grip while stimulating memory and speech centers. The sharper the question, the more reflexive the response.


    I started simple. Names added specificity, tightening the noose around the subconscious.


    ¡°What the hell were you doing in Greg¡¯s home?¡±


    The crossbowman¡¯s jaw slackened, drool pooling on the floorboards. Consciousness wasn¡¯t required¡ªonly intact neural pathways. His motor cortex twitched as Broca¡¯s area lit up like a cursed lighthouse.


    Quickpaw watched, ears perked, one foxian tail flicking with interest.


    Meanwhile¡­ where the hell was Alice?


    Later. Right now, I had a mercenary to milk for information.


    His lips parted sluggishly. ¡°Wuh¡­ ord-ordered¡­¡± The words slurred, but they came.


    A thread. A lead. Keep pulling before the effect dulled.


    ¡°Ordered by whom?¡±


    A sluggish twitch. ¡°Thibault. He gabe uss orbders.¡±


    Thibault.


    Elven name. Of course. Everything problematic somehow circled back to them.


    Focus. Bias wouldn¡¯t help here.


    ¡°What were the orders?¡±


    His sluggish tongue struggled, but the answer surfaced: ¡°Tu taku cwre of Zoran¡­ kill him.¡±


    Hoh.


    Zoran. The Rakari boy who had asked Whisper to find Greg.


    But hadn¡¯t Zoran claimed he had no idea what Greg was working on?


    So why was he marked?


    Paranoia? Loose ends? A mistake?


    ¡°Did you kill Greg too?¡±


    A slow, syrup-thick ¡°No.¡±


    Too vague. Should¡¯ve framed that better.


    ¡°Do you know if Greg is dead?¡±


    A sputter of spit. ¡°Nw.¡±


    So, they didn¡¯t know.


    I shifted tactics. Now for their identity.


    ¡°Who are you people?¡±


    ¡°We awe m-mercenaries.¡±


    Quickpaw snorted. ¡°Dime-store daggers cosplaying soldiers. Adorable.¡±


    ¡°Impersonating Pact enforcers¡¯s a spine-removal offense.¡± I leaned in. ¡°Were you aware?¡±


    His hypothalamus fired¡ªfear sweat blooming. ¡°w-were aware.¡±


    So they knew the risk and still took the job. That meant the pay was good.


    ¡°What made you take this mission?¡±


    ¡°Kron.¡±


    Money. No surprises there. Mercenary loyalty ran as deep as their coin purses.


    I was about to press further when his body spasmed. Limbs twitching, muscles seizing.


    Then, as fast as it came, it passed. He slumped, breathing shallow.


    Neurological meltdown. Not lethal¡ªjust the brain¡¯s equivalent of a toddler tantrum in a china shop.


    Their problem, not mine. These chuckleheads chose violence first. If not for Quickpaw¡¯s flair for creative incapacitation, I¡¯d be mopping entrails off Greg¡¯s tacky wallpaper.


    I tsked. ¡°Who is Thibault?¡±


    His head lolled. ¡°Unk-known.¡±


    Huh?


    ¡°Then how did you get this mission?¡±


    ¡°Hw found us. O-offered Kron.¡±


    ¡°So you never met him properly?¡±


    A shuddered breath. ¡°Hes face was masked. No¡­ scent.¡±


    Quickpaw snickered behind me.


    Of course they were this stupid.


    I sighed. ¡°Face covered, cash in hand, and you didn¡¯t question it?¡±


    ¡°Kron¡­ spoke¡­ louder.¡±


    Immediate. No hesitation.


    I exhaled through my nose. Idiots.


    Then Quickpaw, still grinning, said, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about Thibault.¡±


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    I paused. ¡°Huh? You know him?¡±


    She flashed a fangy smile. ¡°I do.¡±


    I shot her a glare. ¡°Now you share intel?¡±


    Before she could answer, the crossbowman convulsed again, his head lolled, drool pooling into a Rorschach of shame. Synaptic collapse.


    Welp.


    Out like a snuffed candle.


    I wasn¡¯t getting anything else from him. Not unless I wanted to sift through raw, incoherent brain static.


    Quickpaw only shrugged, unapologetic.


    Fine. If she already knew who Thibault was, I¡¯d move on.


    Except¡­ two more mercenaries later, I had the same answers.


    They were hired to impersonate Iron Pact enforcers. Their target was Zoran.


    A cover. Meant to keep people from questioning them.


    Bold move.


    I clicked my tongue.


    We had names. A motive.


    And one glaring question.


    What the hell did Zoran know that made him a target?


    I barely had time to think before Alice reappeared, gliding into the room with something clutched in her hands¡ªa tangled mess of reddish strands. Greg¡¯s hair? Plausible, given Whisper¡¯s dossier mentioned his fire-kissed mane. Though the damp strands clung to her porcelain fingers like seaweed from a kraken¡¯s armpit, their liquid provenance better left unexamined.


    Where did she even¡ª


    ¡°Do not inquire, mistress,¡± Alice whispered, her voice a silk blade in my mind. ¡°Some threads are best left unspooled.¡±


    Quickpaw, oblivious to the doll inches from her, was busy finger-painting a phallic rune on a merc¡¯s forehead. ¡°There! Now he¡¯s art.¡±


    I grimaced.


    Well, at least the hair was a viable divination focus. This was more than enough to divine on Greg¡ªat least enough to pull off that vision-trance thing Alice had done the first time. I never caught the exact name of it, but the mechanics weren¡¯t the point. What mattered was how much of my abilities I was willing to reveal to Quickpaw.


    Lotte had said Whisper was a golden thread for me, but that didn¡¯t mean I could lower my guard¡ªnot in front of her, not in front of anyone.


    But Alice¡¯s ability to pry into fate? Now that¡­ that could be valuable to them. Maybe valuable enough to elevate my worth, make them more willing to spill their secrets in exchange for peeks into the unknown.


    A double-edged sword. I''d be laying a fraction of my abilities bare, but the intel I could gain in return? That could be worth it. I chewed on my lip, weighing the risks. I hated making these kinds of decisions. Or any decisions, really.


    ¡°A calculated revelation,¡± Alice murmured, reading my hesitation. ¡°Unspool but a thread; let their hunger for foresight bind them closer.¡±


    Alice read me like an open book.


    I knew it would be beneficial. But at the same time, they had no idea just how much I could do. I was capable of things beyond their wildest imaginings.


    ¡°Soooo,¡± Quickpaw drawled, flicking drool off the merc¡¯s chin, ¡°Thibault¡¯s r¨¦sum¨¦. Wanna cliffnotes?¡±


    I crossed my arms. ¡°Sure.¡±


    She looked up and grinned. ¡°Iron¡¯s right-hand man. Equally scary as him¡ªmaybe worse.¡±


    Ah. Shit was starting to come full circle. Iron was currently behind Iron Pact bars, but the real question was¡ª


    ¡°Is he an elf?¡±


    Quickpaw shook her head. ¡°Nope. Another Drakkari. The Argent Claws gang is real picky about their recruits. Only Drakkari. And they hate everyone else.¡±


    That made me frown. If Thibault had been an elf, it would¡¯ve been too easy to link him to That Thing, or the underground Elven cult whose little ritual I¡¯d interrupted the other day. Maybe even to That Thing¡¯s influence directly.


    Maybe he had been the reason for Iron and his gang shifting into their beast forms before turning red-core. Maybe he was why I¡¯d smelled that rotten stench on them.


    ¡°But the name¡­¡± I muttered. ¡°It sounds Elven.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because it is.¡±


    Hoh. Interesting.


    ¡°Did he grow up in Lithrindel?¡±


    ¡°I dunno much. Maybe Whisper does. But I always assumed that was the case. Adopted accent? Who knows. He purrs Common like a highborn elf reciting sonnets. Disgustingly poetic.¡±


    Very suspicious.


    ¡°And Greg?¡± I pressed. ¡°Vanished? Dead? Staging his own funeral?¡±


    Quickpaw shrugged. ¡°Your guess glows brighter than mine, oh cryptic one.¡±


    Here we go. ¡°I¡­ might have a method to illuminate things.¡±


    Quickpaw¡¯s eyes narrowed. Then she grinned, sharp and knowing. ¡°I knew you were hiding something.¡±


    ¡°Well, I wasn¡¯t hiding anything,¡± I deflected smoothly. ¡°Just¡­ hadn¡¯t found the right opportunity to showcase my talents.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s divination, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I inclined my head.


    ¡°Guess Whisper was right. Again. And now I own her five silver Kron! Told me you smelled like a star-gazing hobo.¡±


    That made me blink. ¡°She guessed?¡±


    ¡°Whisper¡¯s no fool,¡± Quickpaw mused, circling me. ¡°You rattled her cage hard enough that day. Only two flavors of folk spook her¡ªdeath-touched and truth-seers. And since you¡¯re not reeking of grave moss¡­¡± Her grin turned knife-sharp. ¡°Divination pathway it is. Showing up here? Chef¡¯s kiss confirmation. Had to be sniffing for a relic to soul-stitch.¡±


    Damn. These people were way too perceptive.


    Alice extended the soggy hair-bundle, its aura screaming eldritch snail trail. ¡°Shall we commence the divination, mistress?¡±


    Ugh.


    I swallowed bile and nodded. The hairs hit my palm with a wet splat.


    Quickpaw leaned in, nostrils flaring. ¡°Sure that¡¯s not his¡ª¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°¡ªbackhair? ¡®Cause honestly, it looks like a merrow¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°Focus.¡± I snatched the strands, resisting the urge to exorcise my soul. ¡°This requires concentration.¡±


    Alice¡¯s blindfold ignited, golden threads weaving a lattice of something holy¡ªor unholy, depending on how you looked at it. Same procedure as always: she sanctified the space, called upon the Mother of Chains, and let the room steep in an oppressive, unseen weight. Quickpaw felt it too, her smirk died mid-curve as the Mother of Chains¡¯ presence descended.


    I whispered along, mimicking the motions, just enough to seem involved while Alice did the real work. No need to raise suspicions.


    Then Alice¡¯s blindfold unraveled, and two abyssal vortexes stared back at me where her eyes should¡¯ve been. Before I could so much as shudder, she grabbed my hand.


    Ink spilled into my vision, pooling, swirling, darkening.


    Alice always said she entered a heightened state of the world. Now I understood what she meant. The veil lifted. I saw through walls. Alice pulsed cerulean¡ªa drowned star. Quickpaw shimmered periwinkle.


    No time to gawk.


    ¡°Greg¡¯s current state,¡± Alice intoned.


    ¡°Greg¡¯s current state,¡± I parroted, threefold.


    The vision hit like a cleaver to the skull. My head snapped back. Darkness stretched. Then, from its edges, a scene formed¡ª


    A forest, but wrong¡ªbranches gnarled into arthritic fingers, mulch squelching with the consistency of rotted meat.


    A hand. Severed. Fingers curled in rigor-mortis protest, tendons frayed like snapped harpstrings.


    Beyond it, a torso split open¡ªribcage pried wide as a grimoire, organs reduced to blackened pulp. Fat glistened beneath skin chewed translucent, maggots seething in a carrion ballet.


    Legs bent at angles bones shouldn¡¯t allow, kneecaps cratered into the loam. A head nestled in brambles, face peeled back to a bone-white grin. Crows perched on his brow, beaks gloved in ocular jelly.


    The scream trapped in his throat had escaped through his eyes¡ªsockets blown wide, eaten down to lacrimal ducts. Red hair clung to his scalp in bloody tufts, the sole identifier in this butcher¡¯s gallery.


    A force wrenched my consciousness back. My head snapped upright as I staggered.


    Quickpaw loomed inches from my face, pupils blown. ¡°Well?!¡±


    ¡°Dead.¡± The word tasted of grave dirt. ¡°Torn apart. Scattered. Rotting.¡±


    Her nose wrinkled. ¡°How dead?¡±


    ¡°Legs-in-the-ferns, guts-in-the-mud dead. Crows got his eyes. Maggots wrote him a love letter.¡± I said as I frowned. ¡°Been dead awhile.¡±


    Quickpaw let out a whistle that sounded like a hyena with a kazoo. ¡°Whisper¡¯s gonna cream her panties when we drop this news. Nothing gets her wetter than a corpse with panache.¡±


    I absently brushed phantom grime from my palms. ¡°Divination¡¯s more scalpel than sledgehammer. Precision takes patience.¡±


    ¡°And yet here you are, carving answers out of thin air. Spicy.¡± Her grin was all knives.


    Good. That should make me valuable to them¡ªenough to squeeze out some juicy intel. The more I played a diviner, the more leverage I¡¯d have to pry secrets from Whisper¡¯s cold, greedy hands. And I was very interested in this Thibault. With Iron locked behind Iron Pact bars, he might be my only lead. Elven accent, Drakkari pedigree? Prime suspect for either the elves or the cultists. Maybe both? Oh, he¡¯d be my new best friend.


    Right after I cut out his tongue.


    Too early to draw lines between dots, though.


    ¡°Soooo¡­ can you also sniff out where the forest dumped his leftovers?¡± Quickpaw fluttered her lashes, a pantomime of innocence.


    The vision had been thick with trees. One glance at Alice, and she nodded.


    I just smiled, puffed up, smug as a cat in a fishery.


    ¡°Sweetcheeks,¡± I purred, ¡°I could find his childhood teddy bear in that meat pile.¡±

 Chapter 124: A Compass for Corpses

    Well, the next part was entirely up to Alice. My job? To put on a show. But how in the abyss was I supposed to track down his shredded corpse? Some brand-new form of divination? Ooh, this was delectable. Intriguing. I shot Alice a look filled with blatant anticipation. Quickpaw did the same to me, mirroring my energy like a pesky little echo.


    The sooner I found this poor bastard, the sooner I could pass Whisper¡¯s test and prove my worth. And, hah, I managed without her too. The original plan had her tagging along, but Quickpaw wasn¡¯t the worst alternative.


    ...She still felt like a gremlin cosplaying as a fox-kin, though.


    ¡°Please get a sturdy stick first, Mistress.¡±


    Oh. ¡°Quickpaw, get me a sturdy stick first.¡± No reason she shouldn¡¯t pull her weight.


    She saluted, vanishing downstairs. Returned brandishing a lacquered cane carved with lewd wood nymphs. ¡°Ta-da! Former owner¡¯s either a aristocrat or a very ambitious brothel manager.¡± She thwacked a merc¡¯s rear, jolting a groan from his coma.


    ¡°Sturdy and stylish!¡± she beamed, punctuating her statement with another smack to his backside.


    I flicked a glance at Alice, who only offered a casual, ¡°It works, Mistress.¡±


    Fair enough. I took the cane and, under Alice¡¯s guidance, bound a mana stone to its tip with some makeshift wrappings.


    Still, I had questions. Why a mana crystal? This wasn¡¯t the meticulous process of enchantment, no painstaking etching of runes to siphon magic efficiently. This whole divination business was slowly unraveling everything I thought I knew about magic¡ªlike peeling back the seams of a well-stitched lie.


    Magic had rules. It was methodical, structured. Spells functioned like a language, enchantments even more so. Even the grand Thunder Verdict spell, with its labyrinthine web of runes, followed the same fundamental laws. But divination? This thing tore those rules to shreds and set them ablaze.


    And I had the sinking suspicion it was about to get even wilder.


    And I was weirdly¡­ into it.


    Once the setup was done, I straightened, cane in hand. Alice slithered up onto my shoulder, her blindfold dissolving like mist, and pressed her fingers to my neck. Once again, I slipped into that peculiar, heightened state.


    The world blurred¡ªnot drastically, but enough to make everything feel slightly unmoored. Quickpaw still shimmered periwinkle, Alice a deep cerulean. Even the mercs had their own glows¡ªone a subdued crimson, another yellow, and one even a murky brown. But their auras barely flickered compared to Alice and Quickpaw.


    Even mine, which burned a muted gold, lacked the sheer intensity of theirs.


    I shook my head. First things first.


    ¡°What¡¯s the play with these chuckleheads?¡± I jerked a thumb at the unconscious mercs.


    Quickpaw kicked one¡¯s boot. ¡°Let ¡®em nap. Why? You wanna tuck ¡®em in? Sing lullabies?¡± Her tail swished, a metronome of mischief.


    ¡°She gauges your moral calculus, mistress,¡± Alice murmured, her voice velvet smoke.


    ¡°Just weighing if they¡¯ll come sniffing with backup later.¡±


    Quickpaw snorted. ¡°Snitches need stories. Report what exactly? We gave ¡®em fake names dumber than a bag of wet mice.¡±


    Even if that was true, divination was always a looming threat. I had an anti-divination charm¡ª formed with runes that Lotte had taught me¡ªbut she still warned me to stay cautious. And cautious, I was.


    ¡°Diviners don¡¯t need names,¡± I muttered, scanning the room. ¡°Gimme two minutes to cleanse this dump.¡±


    Quickpaw shrugged, unconcerned.


    Once again, Alice did all the work while I played my part, making vague gestures to keep up the act for Quickpaw. And just like that, the scene was wiped clean. No lingering traces, no threads for some prying diviner to latch onto. Even if someone did try tracking us, they¡¯d need far more than a messy crime scene to work with. And even then, my charm would throw them off.


    Fun.


    ¡°Crime scene¡¯s now a crime clean,¡± I announced. ¡°Diviners¡¯ll have better luck tracking a fart in a hurricane.¡±


    Instead of using the stairs, we vaulted out the window to avoid any lingering eyes at the door. We had stirred up quite the commotion, after all.


    The cane quivered in my grip like a dowsing rod allergic to water. Quickpaw leaned in, breath fogging the mana crystal lashed to its tip. ¡°Sooo¡­ stick magic. Is this the part where it turns into a snake? Please say it turns into a snake.¡±


    Alice¡¯s voice hummed through my ears. ¡°The rod seeks resonance, mistress. Greg¡¯s essence clings to these strands¡ªfaint, but sufficient. Like iron drawn to lodestone, the crystal will pull toward his remains.¡±


    I parroted her explanation aloud, tossing in some theatrical jargon. ¡°It¡¯s a¡­ sympathetic resonance lattice. The hair¡¯s residual bio-signature creates a thaumic vector. The rod aligns to it. Like a compass, but for corpses.¡±


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Quickpaw squinted suspiciously. ¡°So it¡¯s a fancy corpse-pointer.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Booo. Thought it¡¯d be spookier. Where¡¯s the chanting? The goat blood?¡±


    ¡°Next time I¡¯ll let you pick the props,¡± I muttered, clutching the filthy hair-clump. Ugh.


    Alice¡¯s threads tightened around my thoughts. ¡°Focus, mistress. The connection is tenuous.¡±


    Three repetitions of the query¡ª¡°The location of Greg¡¯s corpse.¡±


    The cane wrenched sideways. It hovered at a thirty-degree tilt, trembling like a hound catching scent.


    Quickpaw let out a whoop. ¡°Look at Granny Stick¡¯s arthritis acting up!¡±


    I shot her a glare. ¡°It¡¯s working.¡± Then, before turning my gaze, I murmured, ¡°Southwest trajectory. Hmm?¡±


    She arched a brow. ¡°Something wrong?¡±


    ¡°Just that I saw trees. Pines, shrubs¡ªan entire forest, from the looks of it. Know of anything like that within city walls?¡±


    Quickpaw¡¯s grin slipped into a frown as she thought. ¡°Actually¡­ yeah. There¡¯s a stretch of forest down south in the lower district. When they built the walls, they never cleared it out, and now it¡¯s just a¡ª¡± she waved vaguely, ¡°¡ªa feral patch where things grow wild. Folks avoid it.¡±


    I didn¡¯t need to ask why. ¡°Then lead the way.¡±


    Quickpaw set off ahead, and we followed her into the depths of Varkaigrad¡¯s southwest quarter. Alice, ever the perfectionist, insisted on repeating the divination along the way, and each time, the cane pointed true.


    The lower district¡¯s grime-stained sprawl began to thin as we advanced. Brick tenements packed shoulder to shoulder gave way to sagging warehouses draped in ivy. Even the air shifted¡ªno longer choked with the acrid stench of the slums but something crisper, earthier.


    That only made me more suspicious. Varkaigrad was a titan of a city, its population stretching into the millions. So why was this space left untouched? Why hadn¡¯t the land been leveled for something profitable¡ªtenements, factories, even a refuse dump?


    Crumbling stone walls marked where the city begrudgingly yielded to the encroaching wilds. A half-feral woodland, ensnared within the fortifications like an old wound the city had stopped trying to cauterize.


    More unsettling than the trees, however, was the absence of people. No squatters, no drunkards, no desperate souls scraping out an existence in a forgotten corner of the city. Even my Air Sense, normally picking up every cough and shuffle nearby, found nothing.


    Quickpaw scaled the rusted iron fence with ease, its once-menacing spikes long since corroded into dull nubs. Beyond it, the forest sprawled unchecked, loping hungrily over what remained of civilization.


    Weird.


    Still, Alice tried the divination again. The cane tilted forward.


    It didn¡¯t take long to find him.


    Quickpaw whistled, sounding more impressed than disgusted at the sight of Greg¡¯s body¡ªor what was left of it. Ripped open, rotting, a banquet for maggots.


    ¡°Hot damn, someone really hated this guy¡¯s face!¡±


    Alice, ever unfazed, gave a nod. ¡°This should be enough, Mistress. We can attempt to divine the cause of death.¡±


    We could do that? Well¡­ I wasn¡¯t surprised. The corpse was right in front of us¡ªdivination should be simple now. More points for me when Quickpaw reported back to Whisper.


    ¡°You wanna know how he died?¡± I asked, feigning nonchalance.


    Quickpaw¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You can do that?¡±


    ¡°Should be easy.¡± Of course, I had no clue how easy. Alice always made it look effortless.


    Same procedure as before. Same ink-black vortex swirling in my vision as I repeated, ¡°Cause of Greg¡¯s death.¡± Three times.


    Then¡ª


    Nothing.


    Darkness. Eerie whispers.


    And just like that, my mind slammed back into my body, my vision snapping to normal.


    Alice¡¯s voice was calm. ¡°Mistress, the divination failed. Please check his body for his core.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯d you see?¡± Quickpaw asked.


    I didn¡¯t answer. Instead, I dug my hand straight into Greg¡¯s chest without hesitation. A normal humanoid¡¯s core formed around their heart¡ªstateless at first, solidifying as their power advanced.


    But Greg had nothing.


    He was reported as a low yellow core. Powerful enough to warrant something solid in his chest.


    Instead¡ªemptiness.


    Alice exhaled. ¡°As expected. Someone already extracted his core. And his soul. Not only that¡ªthis space has been sanitized. No lingering energy. Specifically designed to counter divination.¡±


    I frowned. That was ominous.


    I relayed the surface-level findings to Quickpaw.


    Quickpaw twirled a dagger between her fingers, utterly unfazed by the maggot-riddled corpse at our feet. ¡°Relax, Worrito. You¡¯ve already earned your keep. Mercs. Money trails. Thibault¡¯s greasy fingerprints. Whisper¡¯ll stitch this into a noose faster than a drunk tailor.¡±


    The forest loomed around us, its silence sepulchral. I feigned contemplation, scanning gnarled branches that clawed at the sky like arthritic fingers. ¡°So¡­ what now?¡±


    ¡°We bounce,¡± Quickpaw chirped, stretching like a feral housecat. ¡°Let Whisper work her special brand of paranoid origami.¡±


    But before I left¡­


    ¡°You go ahead. I want to try a few more attempts at gleaning information from his corpse.¡± A lie, smooth as silk.


    Quickpaw¡¯s ears twitched. ¡°Oho! Playing rot raconteur? Need a bone saw? A soup ladle? Dramatic lighting?¡±


    ¡°I need solitude.¡±


    Originally, I had planned to perform Belle¡¯s ritual in an abandoned warehouse at the edge of the lower district¡ªisolated, but not ideal. If I¡¯d known a forsaken place like this existed within the city walls, I would¡¯ve chosen it from the start.


    No matter. Fate had handed me the perfect stage, and I wasn¡¯t about to squander it. Parda¡¯s essence would linger here, and by the time any sharp-nosed mage caught the scent, I¡¯d be long gone.


    The only problem? One grease-stained gremlin.


    Quickpaw planted her fists on her hips. ¡°Not that I¡¯m clingy, but I make a fantastic chaperone. Sure you don¡¯t want a living shield? Murder loves company.¡±


    If murder came, I¡¯d set a place for it at the table.


    ¡°I¡¯ve survived worse playdates,¡± I said. ¡°Just brief Whisper. Efficiency.¡±


    She squinted at the corpse, then the canopy. ¡°Tick-tock, corpse-whisperer. How long¡¯s this s¨¦ance take?¡±


    ¡°An hour. Maybe two.¡± The lie hung sweet as cyanide. Lotte promised five minutes¡ªplenty to burn divinatory breadcrumbs and bolt.


    Quickpaw snorted. ¡°I¡¯ll give you sixty minutes before I come back swinging. Whisper¡¯s orders: ¡®Keep the new meat breathing.¡¯ And wow, look at you! Still inhaling!¡±


    ¡°Send her my undying gratitude,¡± I deadpanned. ¡°Now shoo.¡±


    ¡°Aye aye, temp-boss!¡± She vanished in a blur of cobalt fur, tails fluttering like middle fingers made of mischief.


    I tracked her exit with Air Sense¡ªa gremlin-shaped void darting through the trees. Only when her aura dissolved beyond a half-mile radius did I unclench.


    Returning to the site where Greg¡¯s tattered remains lay, I reached beneath my cloak, pulling out the carefully gathered ingredients. Belle dangled from the fabric straps across my back, stirring at last with a lazy yawn.


    ¡°Squeeee?¡± Her yawn morphed into a squeak of anticipation. Ritual time?


    ¡°Ritual time.¡± I nodded, emptying my pockets of the expensive components I¡¯d spent a month collecting.


    One by one, the ritual pieces fell into place.


    Time to begin.


    Time to make Belle my supplicant.


    Why it required tampering with the fabric of reality¡­?


    I had no idea.


    But I was about to find out.

 Chapter 125: The Crimson Chrysalis

    My air-sense was still buzzing as I worked on the ingredients¡ªstrategically stationed a safe distance from Greg¡¯s corpse (still within Range, mind you) in case Quickpaw decided to pop in for a scare.


    I really hoped Lotte had packed a contingency or two this time, but as usual, a mage¡¯s nose is sharper than a gossip¡¯s, and it only took a sniff to detect a hole ripped right through Parda¡ªthe fabric of reality isn¡¯t exactly known for subtlety.


    Belle fidgeted anxiously at my side while Alice helped mix the necessary components.


    I¡¯d set aside some essentials, including a few items needed for drawing the ritual circle. It required fresh blood. I toyed with the idea of using Greg¡¯s, but the poor guy had been dead long enough for his blood to lose its punch; my own dragon blood, on the other hand, would certainly deliver. Of course, there was the nagging worry: what if someone detected it was dragon blood when they eventually came poking around this wounded fabric of reality?


    ¡­But then, I trusted Lotte on this one¡ªthere¡¯s no way she¡¯d have me attempt a suicidal ritual in a city like this.


    Alright!


    Alice handed me the crushed ritual mana dust, a fine powder destined for alchemical transformation. With a flick of my fingers-turned-claws, I sliced open my hand and let my blood drizzle over the powder. It met the dust with a sizzling hiss, as if seared by a tiny blaze, and soon the entire mixture was a vivid crimson.


    And thus, the process began.


    I couldn¡¯t help but wonder exactly what kind of ritual I was performing¡ªbeyond the obvious goal of breaching Parda. Every ingredient had been carefully chosen for its thaumaturgic conductivity and symbolic resonance, an alchemical lexicon I knew all too well.


    Using my blood-infused powder, I started drawing the ritual circles. I sketched the primary sigil on a cleared patch of floor (grass uprooted by Alice¡¯s quick hands), melding Euclidean geometry with alchemical shorthand.


    Yet, as I worked, I couldn¡¯t stop my mind from analyzing every detail. I¡¯d been down this road before and ended up with nothing but a dragon¡¯s stubborn, overly curious brain. One of the rings formed a nonagon inscribed with Enochian vowels¡ªwhat Lotte called vibrational keystones for dimensional harmonics. They had to be drawn with utmost care.


    The Middle Layer was designed as a truncated tetrahedron, its edges meeting at angles matching Varkaigrad¡¯s leyline azimuth.


    The Innermost Circle was an Ouroboros-Klein bottle hybrid, a symbol of infinite recursion. Lotte explained it represented a M?bius strip of causality where Belle¡¯s past and future would knot together. Spooky, but undeniably fun.


    Wrapping it all up, I embedded the bismuth crystals¡ªgrown by yours truly while artfully dodging actual lab work at Alchemy Tower with peak magical attunement¡ªinto each vertex of the nonagon, aligning their facets to catch and refract moonlight when it eventually broke through the canopy. Next, I drizzled mercury along the tetrahedron¡¯s edges, where it pooled into self-organizing dendritic patterns. I¡¯ve always had a soft spot for mercury¡ªso damn useful. In this setup, its properties let it ¡°remember¡± the ritual patterns. A truly fascinating ingredient.


    I glanced over and nodded in satisfaction¡ªjust as Lotte had described it. Still, even with all these details laid bare, my brain couldn¡¯t quite connect what each element truly represented. Lotte really needed to up her teaching game. But hey, at least I wasn¡¯t summoning a NetherBeast this time¡ªno containment or binding runes, so¡­ maybe that was a win.


    Belle sat statue-still, wide eyes mirroring the glyphs. Her claws kneaded the soil¡ªnot fear of the unknown, but fear of becoming its scribe. Like a dagger balanced on a precipice, trembling between plunge and flight. She wasn¡¯t some alchemical ingredient to toss into a circle. She was¡­ Belle. And I¡¯d dragged her here.


    Couldn¡¯t let her marinate in that dread. Not when the ritual demanded a leap, not a cower.


    ¡°Anxiety¡¯s a chatty ghost, Belle,¡± I murmured, scratching behind her ears. ¡°Paces the ramparts, shouts at every shadow. But the thing is¡­ it¡¯s not the enemy. Just a overzealous sentinel seeing phantoms for foes.¡±


    She blinked, whiskers quivering.


    ¡°Think of it like wildfire,¡± I said, tracing a claw through the mercury¡¯s quicksilver cursive. ¡°Let it rage unchecked, it¡¯ll scorch your roots. Smother it, and you¡¯ll never taste sunlight. But tend it? Suddenly you¡¯ve got a forge in your chest. Caring that hard about survival isn¡¯t cowardice¡ªit¡¯s physics. The gravity that glues your atoms together.¡±


    My own ribs ached, memories of the dungeon¡¯s gnashing jaws rising like bile. ¡°Learned this the hard way, chewing through monsters and my own doubts. Courage isn¡¯t the absence of tremors¡ªit¡¯s charging forward despite the seismic forecast.¡±


    I scooped her up, our foreheads touching. Her breath hitched¡ªwarm, quick, alive. ¡°This ritual? It¡¯s a cliff dive. Not asking you to trust the water, just the fall. Even shattered glass casts a kaleidoscope.¡±


    A tap to head. ¡°And this? Proof the best magic doesn¡¯t come from stillness. It¡¯s what erupts when you let the quakes mean something.¡±


    Belle¡¯s squeak was a vow wrapped in velvet.


    ¡°There¡¯s my badger,¡± I grinned. ¡°Let¡¯s go vandalize the rulebook.¡±


    ¡°An almost scholarly monologue, mistress,¡± Alice remarked, almost surprised, adjusting a bismuth crystal by nanometers. ¡°Shall I alert the bards?¡±


    Huh?


    ¡°Alert my foot to your backside!¡±


    Well, whatever helped Belle, I wasn¡¯t sure she fully got me, but she certainly seemed more spirited. And that, in my book, was a win.


    Belle¡¯s role in the ritual was twofold: both subject and symbiote.


    I sighed and withdrew a sterilized lancet¡ªthe very one I¡¯d used on myself. With willing cooperation, Belle offered her paw, and I pricked it to collect a single droplet of her blood. Mixing it with predator bone ash, I whipped up a conductive paste. I watched the mixture shift to a deep blue with every droplet¡ªa predatory resonance meant to anchor Belle¡¯s consciousness during the ritual, keeping it from dissolving into nothingness. Satisfied, I smeared the paste onto the aether quartz.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Hold still,¡± I murmured, securing the gem between her jaws. She obediently gnawed on it, her teeth etching fractal stress lines into the quartz as her biofrequency perfectly synced with its resonance. ¡°Now, go stand in the middle of the ritual circle,¡± I instructed, rubbing her head affectionately. With that, she bounded past me to take her place.


    Alice materialized beside me, clutching the mycelium hydrogel. ¡°Shall we commence the ritual, mistress?¡± Yes. It was time to begin¡ªafter a few warm-up steps, naturally.


    I selected another ingredient and sketched the Mother of Chains symbol with my mana, the spirituality in my throat coiling like a disgruntled serpent. Once again, it felt heavy with meaning. With that, I intoned the first part of the invocation. The mycelium hydrogel, placed before Belle, unfurled like a ghostly bloom at the circle¡¯s center. I layered it with belladonna pollen and wormwood extract, then pressed Belle gently into the gel¡¯s heart as my voice vibrated through the air.


    The spiritually charged words reverberated, setting off an uncanny vibration that filled the space. Slowly, Belle¡¯s form began to blur at the edges¡ªshe was phasing between the corporeal and the shadow dimensions, a state I knew all too well.


    It was time.


    I clasped my hands together as mana surged from my core. It streamed out through one of my hands, and the circle immediately reacted¡ªburning a bright crimson as it greedily sucked in the mana.


    Parda was called the ¡°fabric¡± of reality, though its threads weren¡¯t simply woven¡ªthey were braided. To unpick them, I needed to introduce a measure of controlled chaos.


    I crushed the aether quartz with my second hand, releasing its vacuum energy in a subsonic pop. The mercury trembled, its surface tension breaking into standing waves. Bismuth refracted the distortion into nine intersecting beams, which the Enochian vowels translated into an acoustic pressure.


    I felt it before it came.


    The air itself began to peel, cackling with the power of the realm I was about to breach.


    Revealing¡ª


    Nothing.


    Everything.


    ¡°Samsara nexi, solve et coagula,¡± I intoned¡ªwords less a spell and more a mathematical axiom: unbind and rebind.


    Belle closed her eyes as her form grew more intangible, fading to a mere outline threaded through the mycelium¡¯s filaments. The predator ash enforced a deliberate asymmetry¡ªa necessary flaw to prevent infinite recursion. The ambient mana of the forest, along with my own, plummeted as the circle siphoned energy. Little by little, leaves and trees withered into papery husks.


    I felt my own mana drain dangerously low, prompting me to gulp down a high-grade mana potion. A headache was already forming, but I refused to lose focus.


    No matter what it was, there was no room for surprise. It was Lotte¡¯s ritual, and I was bound to believe that the big dragon had planned for every contingency. So when my mana tanked again and my skull began to throb, I gulped down another potion.


    The circles blazed nuclear. Fingers numb. Vision tunneling. Until¡ª


    Crack.


    Not in the earth. Through it. A hairline fissure in Parda¡¯s braid. The air curdled as the breach yawned wide, vomiting forth an eye. No¡ªthe concept of an eye. Kaleidoscopic, unblinking, its pupil fractaling into a thousand smaller eyes. A wide, unblinking orb that shifted its gaze a thousand times in a second, as if it were seeing the world afresh, snapping every detail into memory.


    Hunger radiated off it¡ªnot malice, but a¡­ ravenous curiosity, like a child in a brand-new playground. Its gaze pinned me. Quartz dust in one hand, mana hemorrhaging from the other. I didn¡¯t hear its voice. I tasted it¡ªcopper and static, a language of teeth and horrors. I understood it, almost intuitively.


    I didn¡¯t waste a moment. I pricked my hand once more, a bit too deep this time, letting blood pool before holding it aloft for the entity to inspect. As the droplet fell, it didn¡¯t hit the ground but seemed drawn to the massive, staring eye embedded in the breach. The eye split open, revealing a maw lined with rune-carved teeth and a tongue that lashed out like a playful, if grotesque, mimic of life¡ªbaby-like faces wailing along its surface. Yet, the moment my blood met that bizarre tongue, everything froze.


    The pupil glazed over for a heartbeat, then shivered in place. It twisted, writhed, and twirled in the opening¡ªa grotesque dance of pleasure as the tongue lashed out one last time. The tongue retracted, maw sealing with a wet schlup. The eye floated free, detached from its¡­ whatever. Its hum conveying a simple response: Acceptance.


    Much like the first time Barn accepted my contract, the entity merged with Belle¡¯s fading outline. The air stilled, and then¡ªcackling softly¡ªthe eye dissolved with another pop, draping Belle¡¯s outline in its wake. Slowly, like a thread spun by a meticulous spider, it formed a cocoon. Before long, a pulsing, red chrysalis enveloped Belle¡¯s form, steadily drawing in more ambient mana as the breach in Parda sealed itself shut.


    And finally, I exhaled the breath I hadn¡¯t realized I¡¯d been holding.


    What fresh abyss was that eyeball-laden horror? Lotte¡¯s notes had waxed poetic about ¡°shimmering chrysalises¡± and ¡°symbiotic metamorphosis,¡± but somehow skipped the chapter titled Negotiating With Tongue-Lashed Eldritch Toddlers. Apparently, Lotte was as tight-lipped as last time, leaving me dangling on the edge of summoning a Gold-rank NetherBeast capable of, well, obliterating a country.


    I could only sigh as I stared at the chrysalis.


    Five minutes¡ªLotte¡¯s estimate, if you can call it that¡ªthough the thing already throbbed with unstable harmonics, its surface twisting through non-Euclidean angles like it was trying to rewrite geometry. I scanned the area. And¡­ where in the blazes was Alice?!


    After a short while, the doll finally emerged from behind a tree, teetering and trembling like a leaf in a stiff wind.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I asked, noting her state¡ªfear, existential dread, or maybe a cocktail of both.


    ¡°M-mistress,¡± she stammered, voice tinny with static, ¡°what was that¡­ entity?¡±


    I shrugged, dusting ritual residue from my sleeves. ¡°Ask the overgrown lizard who stitched you together. Last I checked, dragons consider ¡®full disclosure¡¯ a party foul.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Anyways, whatever it was, it¡¯s gone now!¡± I paused and eyed Belle¡¯s chrysalis. ¡°Probably¡­ but don¡¯t tell me you bolted and hid from it!¡± I chuckled, then softened as I looked at her still trembling form.


    It wasn¡¯t exactly a horror show¡ªjust a little gross, with that tongue sprouting baby faces, didn¡¯t help the vibe.


    My air sense still flared, so I decided to take a twenty-meter detour, and it looked like nobody was lurking around. Thank Thalador for that small mercy. Back at the pulsating chrysalis, I admitted that even its sight gave me a headache. Even Alice was avoiding direct eye contact.


    But it held. For now.


    The surrounding air reeked of iron-rich blood and ozone. Darkness clung to everything, save for Belle¡¯s chrysalis, which glowed faintly like a cobalt ember amid the gloom.


    While I waited for it to hatch, I collapsed the ritual circle with a spritz of cleansing agent¡ªclearing away my blood traces and leaving no forensic breadcrumbs.


    By the time I was done, I could sense Belle slowly stirring inside the chrysalis. It was odd; we shared a connection, but now it felt almost tangible. A wave of happiness washed over me through that bond, and my heart swelled along with it. It was weird how her joy affected me so directly¡ªbut it felt good.


    ¡°Do you¡­ feel her, mistress?¡± Alice asked me.


    ¡°Like a second heartbeat. Weirdly¡­ nice.¡±


    Maybe the ritual was a success.


    All it took was ripping a hole in reality and summoning a terrifying entity to donate its eyeball in exchange for my blood!


    ¡­Eh, should be fine.


    ***


    Vorak¡¯s lungs seized as he bolted upright, gut twisted like a hangman¡¯s knot. Diviners of his caliber had fate¡¯s greasy fingers up their asses 24/7¡ªwards honed over decades to jerk them awake when the universe decided to take a dump on their doorstep. And holy hell, had it ever.


    A thing.


    A cyclopean fuckhole of weeping infant faces, tongues lolling like flayed eels. Blood geysered from his sockets, hot and thick as tavern stew.


    He didn¡¯t scream. Iron Pact blowhards were too fancy for that gutter noise.


    (Didn¡¯t stop his guts from painting his robes brown, though. Even diviner dickbags can¡¯t outrun a colon¡¯s tantrum.)


    By sunup, every Iron Pact shitlicker would be sweating bullets: something had peeled back reality¡¯s skirt.


    And it was goddamn hungry.

 Chapter 126: Curiosity Killed the Cat鈥擥ood Thing I鈥檓 a Dragon

    Five minutes in¡ªas Lotte had promised¡ªI noticed the pulsing chrysalis starting to throb. It wasn¡¯t long before I picked up a sound from within; not so much scraping as moaning, really. And then, out of the crimson, quivering mass of flesh, a vicious claw burst forth.


    Or rather, a claw that turned out to be¡­


    ¡°Is that a damn mini mop?!¡±


    Yes, a mop. Its handle was carved from pale ashwood, topped with a floppy tuft of undyed hemp fibers. It hacked its way through the flesh with a zeal more befitting a blade.


    Then Belle tumbled out through the gap it had created.


    I was nervous, after all this ritual business. What sort of changes might Belle undergo? Would she still be the badger I¡¯d grown to adore¡ªthe one obsessed with cleaning, serving tea, and devouring biscuits? So when I saw her emerge amid the messy, oozing remains, I felt a rush of relief.


    Her fur, once as dark as storm clouds, still held the same shade but now boasted a silvery sheen¡ªas if dusted with powdered quartz. And there was an apron tied around her waist: homespun linen, frayed at the hem and marked with mysterious, ghostly stains, complete with a few tiny pockets. Her gleaming quartz teeth hadn¡¯t changed, but her whiskers now curled at the tips like playful calligraphy.


    And in both paws, she held that mini mop like a royal scepter.


    Despite everything, she was still unmistakably her old self. That, inexplicably, made me feel better.


    ¡°You,¡± I murmured, dropping to my knees, ¡°are absolutely ridiculous.¡±


    At that moment, she sneezed, splattering chrysalis goo all over her snout, and let out a piercing ¡°squee!¡± She quickly scooped the mop away with her tiny paw and scrubbed it off her nose.


    A wave of happiness swept over me as I realized our bond had deepened somehow. I¡¯d worried that this ritual might have altered something more than just her appearance. Belle¡¯s earnest, overzealous cleaning was so unmistakably her that I couldn¡¯t help but laugh.


    ¡°Still a neat freak, huh?¡± I teased, brushing my fingers over the patched fabric of her apron, which smelled of lye soap and damp earth. ¡°Missed a spot.¡±


    She chirped¡ª¡°squeeee!¡±¡ªand promptly attacked my boot with the mop, scrubbing away at imaginary dirt. Tiny damp streaks marked the leather.


    Alice drifted closer, her blindfold askew. ¡°This¡­ was the intended outcome?¡±


    Belle then sprang onto her hind legs, apron flapping, and brandished the mop like a scepter as she glared at the filth around her. ¡°Squee!!¡± she declared. No grime would dare stick around in her presence. With that, she resumed her frantic scrubbing.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not entirely sure what the outcome was supposed to be,¡± I said, scooping Belle up from her cleaning spree. She tried to protest, but my stern glare silenced her. I¡¯d already handled most of the ritual¡¯s mess, and we were short on time. ¡°She¡¯s still that stubborn badger¡ªjust¡­ a bit shinier.¡±


    Still, I couldn¡¯t help but grumble, ¡°Lotte, you fat dragon! You owe me a very detailed pamphlet!¡±


    Alice chuckled beside me, though I could sense a lingering tremor from the ordeal. Whatever had crawled into reality moments ago had clearly shaken her.


    I could only hope she¡¯d find her footing soon.


    But I was in a rush¡ªI needed to get the hell out of here, but first¡­


    ¡°What about this chrysalis?¡±


    That fleshy cocoon Belle had emerged from was the unmistakable byproduct of the ritual¡ªa glaring sign that something seriously messed up had taken place. An open chrysalis would only invite the wrong kind of attention, so I had to deal with it.


    ¡°Belle. Stay.¡± I set her down, ignoring her indignant squee as she brandished her mop at the lingering filth.


    Then, I stripped off my clothes. The transformation bracelet clattered to the forest floor. Scales erupted across my skin, bones elongating with wet cracks as half-dragon sinew reforged itself. Fire glands swelled in my throat¡ªa forge-bellows heat begging for release.


    Using Flame Jet to steer both the aim and the intensity of my flames, I pumped twenty points of mana into my fire gland. The jet of dragonfire tore from my maw¡ªnot flame, but conflagration incarnate. It atomized the chrysalis on contact, reducing eldritch flesh to ash finer than alchemist¡¯s powder. The ground beneath bubbled into glassine slag, smoking craters where the entity¡¯s residue had pooled.


    Five seconds. A lifetime.


    I wasn¡¯t thrilled about destroying it¡ªThalador, that thing had been a prime alchemical ingredient¡ªbut I couldn¡¯t risk dragging it along. It was a sure-fire way to attract trouble.


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    Once again, Alice worked her magic, cleansing the area of any lingering mana or divination signatures. I then retrieved my bracelet, channeled some mana into it, and shifted back to my drakkari form. The cold nipped at me as I shivered, and before long I was back in my clothes. Sure, I could have shifted while still wearing them, but my half-dragon form¡ªwith all its extra height, spikes, and rippling muscle¡ªwould have shredded my outfit in seconds.


    When everything was done, I took a moment to look around.


    Alice drifted over the blast zone, threads weaving a final sanitizing hymn. ¡°No traces linger, mistress. Only¡­ absence.¡±


    I scooped up Belle before she could start scrubbing tree bark. ¡°Later. Now, we flee.¡±


    ***


    Instead of heading back to Whisper¡¯s place, I figured it was smarter to return to my dorm. A couple of solid reasons for that¡ªfirst, I was more drained than usual. Burning through my mana three times in such a short span? Yeah, turns out there are consequences for that. Second, I needed a good smokescreen, a little breathing room to cook up a convincing lie.


    Because let¡¯s be real¡ªsomeone definitely noticed my little ritual. If Iron Pact had even a single competent mage, they¡¯d know. And with a diviner in the mix, it was only a matter of time before someone showed up to investigate.


    And Whisper? Oh, she¡¯d connect the dots fast. Quickpaw drops me off, ritual site just a few meters away¡ªwouldn¡¯t take a genius.


    So, I needed a solid excuse. Enter: panic-fueled escape. What else? I ¡°saw¡± someone performing a ritual and bolted. Maybe even blame the Elves for good measure. Heh.


    But that was a problem for morning me. Right now? Too damn drained. If Whisper so much as sniffed out something off, it wouldn¡¯t end well for me.


    And then there was Belle. Lotte claimed she¡¯d gain new abilities, become my supplicant in the end. But what abilities? What even was she now? She came back from that ritual with¡­ an apron and a mop.


    Argh. Moments like these made me wish I could peek at her stat screen. Too bad that wasn¡¯t an option. Guess I¡¯d have to figure it out the old-fashioned way¡ªtrial, error, and maybe guilt-tripping Lotte into spilling some answers.


    Anyway, getting back was quick. With my agility, each stride covered ridiculous ground. Soon enough, I reached the Alchemy Tower and, like before, shifted into dragon form to carry my ¡°cargo¡±¡ªAlice and my stuff¡ªgently in my mouth.


    Belle, though¡ª


    Huh?


    Before I could even blink, she reached the barrier, let out a happy squeal¡­ and just phased through it.


    Ohhh. Ohhh. Looked like she got my ability to slip through solid objects now.


    I gave a satisfied nod, dragon snout and all. That was going to be useful.


    Wasting no time, I dipped into the Shadow Dimension and cut straight through the void, slipping past the third dimension¡¯s constraints. One smooth flight later, I phased back into reality¡ªright in my room.


    Scooping Belle up with a tentacle, I carried her to the first floor where my room was, shut the window, and finally¡ªfinally¡ªlet out a long, much-needed sigh of relief.


    Hah. What a night. From thrashing the fakes pretending to be Iron Pact, to chasing down a dead detective, strolling through a eerie forest tucked inside town walls, and finally summoning a eldritch entity¡ªjust to ask for an eyeball donation.


    Still, a grin tugged at my lips as I wriggled in place. It was fun. Wish every day could be just as eventful¡ªminus the consequences. But consequences were never optional. Every action had its ripples, every world had its reaction.


    I could only hope the chaos I stirred wouldn¡¯t spiral too far.


    Yeah, right.


    That sounded like a problem for future me. Present me? Running on fumes. I shifted back, threw on my clothes, and was about three seconds from face-planting into sleep when Alice decided to chime in.


    Her voice slid through my exhaustion like a knife through soft butter. ¡°Mistress, perhaps you should evaluate Belle¡¯s¡­ latest developments?¡±


    ¡°Later,¡± I mumbled into the pillow. ¡°If she¡¯s grown tentacles, I¡¯d rather be surprised over breakfast.¡±


    Alice paused, then repeated, ¡°Mistress, would you like me to assess Belle¡¯s newfound quirks?¡±


    I frowned but waved a lazy hand. ¡°Knock yourself out.¡± Better her than me¡ªshe¡¯d do a more thorough job anyway.


    With that, I finally shut my eyes.


    And opened them.


    Right back in that dreamscape.


    Again?


    The glassy lake sprawled beneath my paws, shadows squirming in its depths like eels with grievances. I groaned. Did this mean I had to cross over every time I slept now? Just great. With a sigh, I dropped onto all fours and padded toward the swirling vortex.


    Same as last time, the water stilled the moment I entered. The cylindrical tunnel of twelve sections loomed ahead¡ª


    Except this time, something was different.


    A ripple. On one of the right-side sections.


    Huh?


    Last time, I saw a clear image of that Drakkari child. But this¡­ this was different. No image, just an unsteady disturbance.


    Was it another vision? Someone in trouble? Didn¡¯t feel like it.


    Curious, I reached toward the rippling water¡ª


    A tendril shot out. Fast. Just like before.


    And again, the silent question.


    Accept? Reject?


    On one hand, my curiosity was gnawing at me. This didn¡¯t feel like possession¡ªit was something else. I just wanted to know what this tunnel was, to understand more about this bizarre space.


    On the other hand¡­ well, nothing was stopping me. Lotte could wait. And if history repeated itself, I¡¯d wake up feeling refreshed anyway.


    So, whatever.


    Curiosity killed the cat, I mused, accepting the tendril. Good thing I¡¯m a dragon.


    Immediately, inky waves surged forward, swallowing me whole.


    Then¡ªsensation. Strange. Hard to put into words.


    I opened my eyes¡ª


    And understood why it felt so wrong.


    An opulent room stretched around me. The room sprawled like a reliquary for a god of excess: walls sheathed in hammered gold filigree, each whorl cradling fist-sized rubies that pulsed like dormant hearts.


    A vaulted ceiling dripped with chandeliers of frosted crystal, their prisms casting rainbows across tapestries woven from thread so fine it seemed spun from starlight. Velvet drapes the color of clotting blood framed arched windows, beyond which a black sky hung heavy with unshed snow.


    But that wasn¡¯t what stole my breath.


    No, that honor went to the person sitting across from me.


    Raven-black hair. Azure slitted eyes. Curved horns. A face I knew too well.


    Because I¡¯d worn it for sixteen years. She fidgeted on a gilded stool, muttering to the air, ¡°Did it work? Ancestors¡¯ ashes, Mother¡¯ll flay me if I cracked another artifact¡ª¡±


    And I¡­


    I was inside a goddamn mirror!

 Chapter 127: A Con of Draconic Proportions

    Vernia Drakonski shut her eyes and whispered a prayer to the ancestors, hoping¡ªjust this once¡ªthat the artifact would actually work.


    Because if it didn¡¯t, and Mother finally noticed it missing from her treasury... oh, she was dead. Well, not literally. Anyone else would¡¯ve been turned to ash on the spot by the wrath of a gold-core pathwalker, but being her mother¡¯s beloved daughter only earned her a mind-numbing lecture on the dangers of ancient artifacts¡ªand yet another round of grounding.


    Again.


    Argh. Solitude wasn¡¯t unbearable. But after a childhood sculpted into the sect¡¯s next marble-faced matriarch¡ªless a girl, more a monument to ancestral expectations¡ªeven granite craved cracks. But she didn¡¯t want it. Any of it. Titles? Expectations? The gilded cage of command? Her? The girl who fantasized about alley wraiths slipping through Lower District shadows, swallowed by mist and mischief? Governance demanded iron resolve, not a will corroded by daydreams of flight.


    Rule? Ha. Not in this lifetime. Or the next twelve.


    The only thing refined about her was the noble mask she wore. Deep down, she envied the freedom the gangs had in the lower districts. No stiff posturing, no suffocating legacies, just raw, reckless liberty. But when your mother was a gold-rank cultivator and the outside world was teeming with things waiting to eat you alive, disappearing wasn¡¯t so simple. It took power. And Vernia knew she had it¡ªor at least, she had enough to get there.


    The problem? Like everyone else at high yellow-core, she¡¯d hit a wall.


    ¡°This,¡± Mother had sniffed, ¡°you must unravel alone.¡± Ancestors¡¯ teeth, Vernia couldn¡¯t unravel a knotted shoelace without a manual.


    She groaned, shifting on her stool before daring to crack one eye open at the offending artifact in her hands¡ªa mirror, plain at first glance but set apart by its ornate carvings. Its frame, smooth yet aged, looked like polished wood, though she had no idea what kind. Etched with spirals that morphed into¡­ dragons.


    Not that she¡¯d name them aloud. Such topics were verboten beyond sealed chambers, but she knew the tales¡ªancestors scaled and sovereign, lords of primordial beasts, progenitors of the Drakkari. Strength incarnate. Magic unchained.


    The mirror¡¯s carvings wrapped around the frame, their talons gripping its edges, sinuous bodies curling along its sides. At the base, two of them coiled around a strange symbol: a hiltless sword, encircled by their twisting forms. This was where her mana pooled, crystallized into spirituality, then¡­ nothing.


    Vernia exhaled sharply. The reflection staring back at her was just her own. No thunderous revelations. No ancestral wisdom. Just Vernia, all sharp cheekbones and tired azure eyes.


    So... another failure.


    ¡°Come on, you ancient hunk of kindling,¡± she muttered. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re as useless as last time. Though, honestly, if you¡¯re broken, maybe that¡¯s a mercy.¡±


    She stared at herself a moment longer. Artifacts used to work without fail. But a few decades ago, something changed. Every single one¡ªcursed or blessed¡ªwent silent, their connection to the astral plane severed.


    Frustration burned in her chest. With a huff, she moved to put the mirror back¡ª


    Two crimson orbs flared in the glass, pupils slit like dagger wounds. A silver draconic maw materialized, teeth glinting, and Vernia¡¯s breath turned to ice in her lungs. The stool clattered as she recoiled, but the mirror clung to her grip, hungry.


    Oh, she thought, half-delirious. This isn¡¯t broken.


    Before she knew it, a vicious wave of ink emerged and swallowed her whole.


    ***


    I¡¯d always wondered what it would be like to come face-to-face with my supposed doppelganger.


    Stephan had told me she had my face¡ªtheir princess Vernia. But even after arriving in Varkaigrad, I quickly realized how impossible that scenario was.


    She wasn¡¯t just some noble. She was the most protected individual in the city, a princess, for fuck¡¯s sake, of the Flameclaw Sect¡ªthe ruling Drakonski family of Varkaigrad.


    Still, I¡¯d entertained the idea. Maybe I could infiltrate the nobility, work my way close enough to confirm the truth. If she really did have my face, then maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªthe Flameclaw Sect held answers to my past. Because sharing a face with a princess before I fully transformed into whatever I was now? That was too big of a coincidence to ignore.


    But now?


    Now, I was staring directly at Princess Vernia herself.


    Crimson silk, ivory lace, jewels glittering like trapped stars. And the wards. Thalador¡¯s beard, the layers of protection humming in her necklace alone could¡¯ve vaporized a one of those stage 4 creepers. I itched to dissect the spellwork, but her gaze pinned me. Not fear there.


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    No, her eyes burned with the fervor of a zealot stumbling upon a holy relic.


    The intensity of her scrutiny made my skin crawl.


    This wasn¡¯t how I expected things to go. I¡¯d barely started wrapping my head around these strange abilities¡ªthis dreamscape manipulation, this pull I had on the world through certain artifacts. I still didn¡¯t know how that water tunnel worked, only that it was linked to objects like these.


    Like last time¡ªthe pendant that girl had worn. The one marked with a hiltless sword surrounded by waves.


    And now, this mirror Vernia clutched.


    That same symbol.


    Then she exploded into motion, practically vibrating.


    ¡°IT WORKED!¡± she shouted. ¡°Ancestors¡¯ claws, it worked! You¡¯re here! You¡¯re real!¡± Her voice cracked between aristocratic poise and giddy disbelief. ¡°I knew the texts about this mirror weren¡¯t metaphors¡ªwell, mostly knew. There was a 30% chance this was just a cursed hallucination, but look at you! The spitting image from the sacred texts! The glorious draconic face, the wings, the claws built to tear, the gaze that could pin a lesser mortal. Well, except for the¡­¡± She waved vaguely at my tentacles, which twitched lazily in the air. ¡°...modifications. But that¡¯s fine! Better, even! Proof of ascension!¡±


    Then, as if remembering herself, she immediately slammed her head to the ground.


    ¡°Forgive this unworthy ember, O scaled sovereign! My flame leapt untamed¡ªbut who¡¯d not singe composure? Centuries since even your shadow grazed mortal sight!¡±


    I schooled my face to still waters.


    Indeed. This script lacked all rehearsal.


    After whatever I¡¯d just done, Vernia had been pulled into the mirror¡ªinto this vast, dark space. I could feel the tether to my real body again. Knew this was just a projection, one I could sever at any time. And by Thalador, I was tempted.


    But I steeled myself.


    Mechanics could wait. Causality could smolder.


    This? This was kindling. An opportunity.


    She thought I was an ancient dragon¡ªher ancestor. With artful pantomime, I could get information. Maybe even something about the Flameclaw Sect. Hell, if I was lucky, I might even learn the truth about my own origins.


    I raised my head, letting the silence stretch.


    Time to start the con.


    ¡°Raise your head, child.¡± The words slithered out, ripe with a pomposity that made my tentacles cringe. Child? We were likely the same age.


    ¡°Forgive my impertinence, O Scaled One!¡± Vernia¡¯s voice trembled, though her posture stayed rigid¡ªa princess trained to grovel gracefully.


    ¡°No offense taken, child.¡± My voice rumbled, deep and distorted, like stone grinding against stone. (Okay, that was new. Mirror resonance? Something else? Whatever it was, at least it added to the mystique.) ¡°Your¡­ ardor is¡­ intriguing.¡±


    Her cheeks flushed, but she practically vibrated with excitement. ¡°Of course! When I studied the texts related to this mirror, they only said, ¡®When the guardian¡¯s shadow walks the glass, ask, and answer will be yours.¡¯ But I never imagined¡ª¡± Her fingers twitched, barely restraining herself from reaching out to prod me like some ancient artifact. ¡°Your form! I never imagined the mirror would actually bring me face-to-face with you! You¡¯re just as glorious as the texts described your sacred form!¡±


    Alright. That gave me something to work with.


    So, this artifact was supposed to function this way. That meant I wasn¡¯t just some random anomaly¡ªthis was an established phenomenon. I could unravel more from here.


    What I couldn¡¯t do was blurt out, Hey, by any chance do you have a long-lost twin? Or is your sect hiding some deep, dark secret? Or, I don¡¯t know, are you also secretly a dragon?


    No. I needed to take this slow.


    She had expected the mirror to provide sacred knowledge. Her desperation was a key I could twist. So why not lean into that?


    Fortune favored bold charlatans.


    ¡°What the mirror¡¯s texts say is true, child,¡± I said, weaving my voice into something cryptic and measured. ¡°Your curiosity bridged realms, child. Now, lay bare what you seek.¡±


    (And if her question was something ridiculous, I could always whip up an insufferably vague riddle. Years of dealing with Lotte had prepared me well for this moment.)


    Vernia inhaled sharply, as if moved by divine wisdom. ¡°Compassionate ancestor! You scent my ashes before I smolder.¡± She clenched a fist, summoning a flickering red flame in her palm. ¡°And now I know you would be aghast to learn how I have failed you.¡± Her voice dipped with shame.


    ¡°Ancestor, I¡­ I¡¯ve stagnated.¡± The flicker of flame danced on her palm. ¡°The red core eludes me. I¡¯ve meditated, honed techniques, even¡­¡± She hesitated, pride crumbling. ¡°¡­stolen forbidden scrolls. Nothing. Am I¡­ unworthy?¡±


    Hoh. So she was on the verge of breaking into Red Core.


    That was¡­ insane for someone only sixteen. What the fuck were they feeding her? Or was she just some kind of monstrous prodigy?


    And yet, she thought she was a failure?


    The standard was ridiculous, but I supposed being a princess came with different expectations. Privilege¡¯s burdens were a different beast.


    Still, now I had a better grasp of her request. And confirmation of her fire affinity.


    I thought back to how Lotte had helped me connect more deeply with my lightning affinity. It hadn¡¯t just been about raw power¡ªit was about resonating with the concept behind the element itself.


    And maybe¡­ just maybe¡­ I wouldn¡¯t have to resort to cryptic riddles after all.


    No one I¡¯d ever met talked about elemental concepts, regardless of their path. But Lotte had let a few slip: lightning¡¯s concept of Judgment, and three others¡ªfire, water, and earth.


    This could be interesting.


    I chuckled, low and gravelly, letting the distortion of the mirror twist the sound.


    ¡°How the cubs mewl over molehills now¡­ they struggle to break past such a meager bottleneck¡­¡±


    Cringeworthy? Undoubtedly.


    Effective? Vernia¡¯s awestruck paralysis confirmed it.


    I let the silence stretch, let the weight of my words settle before I unfurled my wings and flickered out of sight¡ªphasing into the space just behind her.


    She didn¡¯t move.


    Didn¡¯t even breathe.


    Not fear.


    Reverence.


    Intoxicating, this power to awe.


    Leaning close enough to set her gemstones chiming, I breathed: ¡°Foolish hatchling. You grovel for sparks when pyres await. Fire takes. It does not beg.¡±


    Her flame sputtered. ¡°T-Takes?¡±


    ¡°The Concept,¡± I hissed near her ear. Her shudder sent emberlight skittering. ¡°Conquest.¡± The word kindled the gloom. ¡°Not of realms. Of self. Let your core feast on its own chains.¡±


    Her breath hitched.


    And then¡ª


    A spark.


    Flames surged to life in her palm, not just flickering, but roaring, hotter, fiercer than before.


    Before revelation could curdle to questions, I severed the tether, dissolving into prismatic smoke. Let mystery ferment in her marrow.


    Whether my stolen wisdom held merit mattered less than preserving this divine facade.


    As Lotte oft crooned: Mystique is manure gilded with moonlight.

 Chapter 128: SQUEE!

    Once again, I felt the thread snap¡ªand I was back in the water tunnel.


    Still water. Still silence.


    But now, I was seeing it in a very different light.


    One time? Could¡¯ve been some universe magic fuckery.


    Twice? Yeah, something was up with this place.


    Not just the tunnel itself, but the whole sequence of how I¡¯d been entering the dreamscape lately.


    And it all started after Lotte gave me that strange incantation.


    Coincidence? Hell naw.


    Something was up, and I¡¯d bet my scaly ass Lotte knew exactly what.


    But all I could do was sigh. She was never generous with answers.


    For now, I just stared at the twelve sections of this strange water tunnel¡ªspecifically, the two that stood out.


    Two times now, I¡¯d been pulled into someone else¡¯s world.


    The first time, through that girl¡¯s pendant, when I¡¯d possessed her to yank her out of danger.


    The second, through a mirror artifact supposedly meant for ¡®spiritual guidance.¡¯


    And now that I was looking closer¡­ these two sections were lighter than the others.


    I narrowed my eyes. Yeah¡­ there¡¯s definitely a difference.


    I held my claw over the section that connected me to my twin. Just like before, a tendril of dark ink rose from the water, waiting¡ªasking¡ªfor permission.


    This time, I rejected it.


    Then, I turned to the second light section and did the same.


    Once again, a tendril of ink shot up, waiting for my response.


    Weird.


    I tried the same thing over the darker sections. Nothing.


    So¡­ the two lightened parts were linked somehow. Had using them set up some sort of connection?


    If so, I had no idea what it let me do yet. And right now? I wasn¡¯t in the mood to experiment.


    Nor did I have time.


    I moved toward the far side of the tunnel¡ªwhere I always emerged into my dream proper.


    Ahh¡­ fresh air.


    The wind rolled over the grassy hillside, rippling through golden stalks, and there¡ªlounging in her usual spot¡ªwas Lotte.


    This time, I didn¡¯t wait for her greeting.


    ¡°YOU COULD¡¯VE GIVEN ME A HEADS UP!!¡±


    Her velvety chuckle echoed in my head. ¡°And deprive you of revelry, dearest Jade?¡±


    I scowled. ¡°You really need to revise your definition of ¡®revelry,¡¯ Lotte. Because summoning that weird entity just to donate its eyeball to Belle? Not my idea of a good time!¡±


    She waved a lazy claw. "Just a benignly curious emissary from the Abyss¡¯ depths."


    She said it like it was no big deal.


    Abyss, huh?


    Now that I thought about it, that strange curiosity I¡¯d felt from the thing made sense.


    But the Abyss¡ªlike the Netherworld and Hell¡ªwas one of the most perilous planes contained by Parda.


    Meaning¡­ I hadn¡¯t just brushed against some pocket dimension this time.


    I¡¯d breached the fabric of the Abyss itself.


    Oh, Thalador.


    Even last time, when I¡¯d breached the Netherworld, divinators had picked up on it.


    I quickly relayed everything I did to mask my traces, how Alice had cleansed the divination remnants afterward.


    Because if this got noticed?


    I¡¯d have more than just divinators on my tail.


    ¡°Alice? Have you deigned to christen that doll already?¡±


    "She already had a name. And yeah, I wasn¡¯t about to call her just ¡®doll.¡¯ She¡¯s way too sentient for that.¡±


    Lotte hummed. "Should that doll bear responsibility for sanitizing the locus, I withhold objection."


    That lifted a weight off my chest. I¡¯d been terrified that breaching Parda had left some trace behind¡ªsomething that divination could latch onto and track back to me.


    But if it got Lotte¡¯s seal of approval?


    Big dragon approved. I could rest easy.


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    But.


    "What about Belle? I seriously have no idea how her being my supplicant is related to some Abyss creature dropping in and donating its eyeball in exchange for my blood."


    Lotte chuckled. ¡°She is your supplicant now. And you did gift her something¡ªyour affinity to dark mana.¡±


    That made me pause. "And the Abyss?"


    Lotte¡¯s smirk deepened. "The Abyss incarnates darkness perfected¡ªits denizens corporeal manifestations of darkness¡¯ absolute concept."


    Oh, this was juicy.


    "Concept of darkness?"


    ¡°Freedom. The severing of shackles¡ªwhether of flesh, fate, or circumstance. That creature granting Belle a fragment of itself? It signifies that she, too, now embodies that principle.¡±


    That was¡­ enlightening.


    Darkness wasn¡¯t just about shadows and hexes. It was freedom.


    "So¡­ I had to endure those agonizing lightning tribulations for a month to resonate with the concept of lightning¡ª" I shot her a glare. "¡ªbut Belle just gets darkness¡¯ as a freebie?¡±


    "One might phrase it thus."


    I scoffed. "Why no shortcut for me?"


    "For you are forged in crucibles, not cradles."


    I narrowed my eyes. There was definitely a deeper reason, but Lotte wasn¡¯t keen on telling me.


    Fine. Whatever. I could let it go¡ªfor now.


    Instead, I focused on the real question.


    "So¡­ all I saw was her emerging from that flesh chrysalis with a mop and a stupid apron. I¡¯m still struggling to understand how that relates to her resonating with the concept of darkness."


    Lotte let out a thoughtful hum. "A mop and an apron¡­ fascinating. That outcome was wholly determined by the choices your supplicant embraced when presented with possibilities."


    "Wait¡ªso the system was involved?"


    "Undoubtedly. Consider it akin to the Class systems of mortals¡ªyou¡¯ve witnessed such designations when dispatching them, have you not?"


    Oh yeah. "They were almost always dual-classed. Warriors, mages, arcanists, crafters¡­ So Belle made a similar class choice?"


    "Indisputably. A path aligned with Darkness that incarnates the essence of Freedom."


    That sent a chill down my spine.


    "So¡­ her system changed? It''s not the same evolution system I¡ªor most monsters¡ªhave?"


    Lotte nodded. "Self-evidently. Her nature now intertwines with the Abyss¡¯ denizens."


    My claws clenched.


    "Do you think she¡¯s still the same Belle I knew?"


    Lotte just smiled, warm and knowing. "Would you truly believe me imprudent enough to permit foreign essences to supplant your supplicant¡¯s core?"


    I hesitated. "No, but¡­"


    "She remains your Belle. Though her primal drives may sharpen¡­ and her hunger for Freedom intensify."


    My tail flicked. "What kind of freedom?"


    "Concepts are multifaceted. Liberation may wear one face for a scholar, another for a slave. Some ideals flow like rivers, others stand as monoliths. All turns on what your supplicant recognized as pure emancipation."


    "Interpretation, huh?" I paused. "So¡­ any idea what kind of abilities she has now?"


    Lotte smirked. "Pose that query to the architect herself. The crucible of choice was hers alone."


    Fair. Yet I¡¯d pried more truths from her today than a starved scribe at a library. My eyes narrowed. Normally, extracting intel from Lotte required the patience of a glacier and the cunning of a fox-king. Cryptic hints, smoke-mirror philosophizing¡ªuntil my curiosity shriveled like a sun-baked worm.


    But today?


    No labyrinthine riddles. No answers half-swallowed like bitter pills.


    Either the stars aligned¡­ or she¡¯d sipped some generosity with her morning tea.


    I¡¯d count scales later.


    "Anyway," I continued, "I used that weird water tunnel again. Different section this time. But I didn¡¯t possess anyone. This time, it was a mirror¡ªsupposed to give spiritual guidance instead of a pendant."


    Lotte hummed. "Hoh. Seems like you had quite the adventure today."


    "Not really. I was only there for a few minutes. Because I was completely unprepared for what I saw."


    "Oh?"


    I exhaled. "I¡­ came across my supposed doppelg?nger today."


    Silence. Then, Lotte chuckled. ¡°Ah, Fate¡¯s shuttle weaves curious tapestries! And your debut upon the loom?¡±


    I grimaced. "Well¡­ A botched embroidery, perhaps. She thought I was some kind of powerful dragon ancestor, which sounds suspiciously like you. So I¡­ feathered my frills with fraudulent grandeur."


    "Impersonating ancestors now?" Her mirth rippled through the dreamscape. "How very¡­ entrepreneurial of you."


    "Necessity breeds charlatans," I muttered. "Seemed wiser than shouting, ¡®Surprise! I¡¯m your existential echo!¡¯"


    "And did your borrowed majesty convince her?"


    I almost laughed. "Didn¡¯t even need to try¡ªshe was already groveling. Apparently, they know what dragons are. My guess that dragons were the ancestors the Drakkari mention was spot on."


    I paused. "It appears they¡¯re aware of our existence."


    "Interesting."


    For the next few minutes, I told her about the underlying concept of Fire mana. Just a vague guess that it might help my doppelg?nger. Because if I had understood the concept of Lightning when I started, maybe things would¡¯ve been easier for me, too.


    All the while, I subtly tried to steer the conversation toward that damned water tunnel, hoping for even a scrap of information. But, as expected, she stayed tight-lipped. Eventually, I had to give up.


    Still, I¡¯d learned enough.


    That reminded me¡ªViera¡¯s upcoming birthday. And that Saryn girl, Sasha.


    So much had happened, I almost let it slip my mind.


    Viera¡¯s dimensional resonance was off, and I had my suspicions about that ball being thrown in her honor. I sniffed puppetstrings beneath the perfume.


    Now Belle¡¯s metamorphosis tangled the weave further.


    Hah.


    Could my claws not brush a single thread without unraveling ten?


    ¡°Such is the loom¡¯s nature,¡± Lotte crooned. ¡°Every step knots new patterns.¡±


    I studied my talons. ¡°It¡¯s not the knots¡­ it¡¯s the fraying grip on the ¡­spindle.¡±


    ¡°Why grasp the whirlwind?¡±


    I scoffed. ¡°To cage the chaos before it cages me. Weren¡¯t you the one hissing about treading glass-winged? How does surrendering to the storm serve that?¡±


    Lotte¡¯s laugh was a zephyr through willow leaves. ¡°Consequences aren¡¯t cages, my little hatchling¡ªthey¡¯re currents. Why wrestle the tide when you might¡­ sail it?¡±


    A spectral gust plucked amber leaves into a dance around us.


    She tilted her muzzle skyward. ¡°Storms scorn commands¡­ but oh, how they bend to clever sails.¡±


    The leaves spiraled, painting helix trails in the air.


    ¡°A leaf cannot still the gale,¡± she murmured. ¡°But watch how it rides.¡±


    ***


    The familiar grogginess of waking dissolved instantly as my eyes snapped open¡ªonly to lock onto something wrong. Wait¡ªwhat?


    Perched at the foot of my bed loomed a pale, shimmering figure. A woman¡ªor the ghost of one¡ªher back to me, draped in a white gown that rippled as if caught in a breeze I couldn¡¯t feel. Silver hair cascaded down her shoulders, glinting faintly. Then, as though sensing my stare, she shifted. The strands of hair swayed. Her head began to turn¡ª


    And.


    ¡°SQUEE!¡±


    A badger¡¯s snout. Beady eyes. I scrambled backward, nearly toppling off the mattress. Thalador¡¯s beard!


    ¡°BELLE?! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!¡±


    The badger-faced woman pivoted fully, answering with another volley of those high-pitched happy squees, paws gesturing frantically for me to look.


    Alice stood in the corner, calmly adjusting a hand mirror¡¯s angle.


    What fresh madness was this? Where was my biscuit-obsessed Belle? The maid uniform clinging to her fur was absurdly ornate¡ªlace trim, ribbons¡ªbut she¡¯d kept the same damned apron, pockets bulging with polishing cloths and¡­ was that a tiny feather duster?


    She winked out of existence.


    Gone. My frown deepened when my air-sense found nothing¡ªno ripple, no trace.


    Movement flickered in the distant mirror. Belle waved from its surface, wild grin stretching her striped muzzle. Then she vanished again, materializing in the window¡¯s reflection, then the vanity¡¯s, darting between every reflective surface we¡¯d hung.


    ¡°She navigates through reflections now, mistress,¡± Alice remarked, voice clinical. ¡°Quite remarkable.¡±


    One final pop, and Belle disappeared entirely. I froze, breath held¡ªuntil a gleam snagged my attention. Not in a mirror. Not in glass.


    There, in the pupils of my own wide-eyed reflection: a tiny, triumphant badger face, staring back.

 Chapter 129: A Tactical Necessity

    1) Phantom Domesticity: Become a spectral maid, invisible except to those she "invites" (via eye contact).


    -Reflective Service: Teleport through mirrors, polished silver, or the eyes of people. (Current blink range: 5 meters.)


    -Guest¡¯s Guise: Control others by "tidying their mind." Victims perform chores robotically or self-destruct if resisting. (Effectiveness depends on victim¡¯s core color¡ªfurther study required.)


    -Hymn of Obedience: A piercing hymn that stuns listeners into bowing. (Efficacy unconfirmed¡ªrequires additional testing.)


    2) Sovereign of Sterility:


    -Frostbite Sanitization: Freeze surfaces to shatter enemies or create glacial barriers. Her mop leaves trails of black ice that rot flesh.


    -Corrosive Solutions: Summon acidic perfumes or sludge to melt obstacles. (Organic or otherwise.)


    -Spectral Staff: Animate dead servants (e.g., suits of armor, clothes, taxidermied butlers) bound to her will. (Limited to one entity for now.)


    I stared at the parchment in my hand, its edges trembling faintly as my gaze drifted toward the kitchen. Belle had vanished into its shadows moments ago to brew tea, her absence punctuated by the eerie rustle of a spectral dress fluttering autonomously across the room. Squee! The creature¡ªor whatever it was¡ªobeyed Belle¡¯s hissed command to fetch the porcelain, gliding toward the cabinets with unsettling precision.


    My eyes then met Alice¡¯s, and I couldn¡¯t help but furrow my brow before glancing back at the paper. Suppressing a grimace, I refocused on the list she¡¯d compiled¡ªa meticulous catalog of Belle¡¯s newfound abilities, each line item more unnerving than the last. The doll¡¯s organizational rigor was impressive, yes, but it paled beside the sheer absurdity of what Belle had become.


    The ability to blink through reflective surfaces like a mischievous specter, commandeer minds by ¡°tidying¡± them up, and even force a bow with a well-timed Squee! Meanwhile, she wields her mop as an instrument of flesh erosion, summons corrosive potions on a whim, and can even animate clothing and armor to do her bidding!


    Thalador¡¯s beard. I¡¯d thought my Thunder Verdict was overpowered, but this? This was madness incarnate. A scholar¡¯s itch nagged at me¡ªwhat runes fueled this? What twisted magic etched itself into her core?¡ªbut I knew better. Even if I could study Belle¡¯s arcane blueprint, the complexity would fracture my understanding. Some puzzles weren¡¯t meant to be solved.


    With a sigh, I folded the parchment and tucked it away. ¡°Lotte claims Belle embodies the Concept of Darkness¡ªFreedom,¡± I muttered, half to myself, half to Alice¡¯s motionless silhouette. ¡°But where¡¯s the connection? Am I missing it, or is this just¡­ chaos?¡±


    The doll tilted her head, blindfolded gaze sharpening as her voice slithered into my mind. ¡°Speculation, Mistress,¡± she began, ¡°Her power stems from limitation. Formerly bound to a frail vessel, she twisted the maid¡¯s purpose¡ªservitude as liberation. To break her chains, she rebuilt herself into something¡­ useful. To you.¡±


    ¡°Useful?¡± The word curdled in my throat.


    ¡°Freedom through utility. Shedding weakness to become indispensable.¡±


    I paused to digest her words. The idea of escaping the limitations of one¡¯s flesh did hold a certain allure. Yet a niggling worry remained¡ªwhat of Belle¡¯s mental state? I¡¯d toyed with the idea of granting her tangible powers for some time, but did she really feel that her current form was so terribly lacking?


    Before I could spiral further into philosophical musings, Belle breezed in¡ªher animated dress still sashaying behind like an errant specter¡ªbalancing a tray of tea. It made me wonder: had I simply been oblivious? After all, transcending the constraints of one¡¯s physical form only makes sense if one deems the old self a hindrance.


    I reached for my tea, letting its aroma dance about my nostrils (I adored her tea), and we all settled down. Belle, having reverted to her charming badger form, carefully selected her own cup with her tiny paws, dunked a biscuit into it, and gleefully slurped up her treat.


    I shook my head, bemused. Maybe I was inventing phantoms. If Belle harbored regrets, Alice would¡¯ve sensed them. The doll devoured emotions like sugar. And yet¡­


    No. The badger¡¯s ears twitched contentedly as she licked crumbs from her claws. Whatever shadows lurked in her past, this Belle¡ªbiscuit thief, sentient-dress commander, flesh-melting badger maid¡ªseemed¡­ happy.


    For now, that was enough.


    After a spell of study, I eventually tore myself away from my books¡ªit was high time to make tracks for the Alchemy Tower. I even extended an invitation to Belle to join the journey. Belle declined my invitation with a militant Squee!¡ªsomething about ¡°sanitizing infiltrating filth.¡± Her mop leaned against the doorframe like a sentinel¡¯s halberd.


    I couldn¡¯t help but smirk. The room did look like it needed a good dose of her cleaning magic, so with a nod, I stepped outside alongside Alice.


    Huh¡­


    Infiltrating?


    A shiver prickled my neck. Surely she meant pollen. Dust bunnies. Not¡­ visitors. I pictured her polishing vertebrae with that acidic rag and grimaced. No. My badger-maid¡¯s heart was pure as bleached linen. Innocent? Undoubtedly. Selective about what constituted dirt? Worryingly so.


    Well, I was violent enough for both of us anyway.


    Iron Pact enforcers streaked across the slate-gray sky, their obsidian blades humming like steel-feathered raptors. Five patrols in the time it took to cross the courtyard¡ªa record, before I even reached the Tower proper.


    So it seemed my suspicions had morphed from a mere guess into a full-blown hypothesis: someone had indeed detected that Abyss Dweller sneaking into our realm, that tear in the very fabric of reality. Frankly, I wasn¡¯t even 100% sure I knew what I¡¯d summoned in the first place¡ªblame Lotte for that mystery.


    At least a part of me could breathe easier knowing nothing catastrophically spilled over into our world. Well, except for that little bit of essence now hitching a ride with Belle. But I wasn¡¯t counting that as a full-blown calamity.


    Meanwhile, the lower-floor apprentices were abuzz with whispers about a breach in the Parda. Demonic incursion. Rogue summoner. Holy moly, gossip here spreads faster than enchanted wildfire! On the first floor, however, not a peep was heard. That¡¯s because Vasilisa was on duty, and when she rose, everyone else fell silent under her cutting, knife-like glare. Her stint was brief, though, as Mrs. Petrov soon took over while Vasilisa slinked off to attend to her mysterious spare-time endeavors.


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    Before long, Viera sidled up to me. ¡°Did you know someone breached the Parda last night?¡± she inquired.


    Ah yes, that would be yours truly! I thought, though I kept a poker face. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve heard the whispers,¡± I added, feigning nonchalance. ¡°Got any idea which realm was involved?¡±


    Lowering her voice to a conspiratorial murmur, Viera replied, ¡°I think someone opened the gates to hell.¡±


    Her imagination was running wild, clearly. ¡°What makes you say that?¡± I prodded.


    ¡°The sheer number of enforcers I saw zipping past on my way here practically bellowed ¡®imminent catastrophe.¡¯ Wouldn¡¯t bat an eye if it turned out to be a demon swarm¡ªor, hell, even a high-ranked NetherBeast,¡± she mused, then flicked a hand dismissively. ¡°Could be anything, really¡ªI haven¡¯t the foggiest. But it does make me wonder: who in their right mind was unhinged enough to attempt a summoning within city walls? Must be stark raving mad. May their ancestors have mercy on their poor, deluded soul.¡± She punctuated the sentiment with a dramatic tap to her temple.


    Hey now. For the record, my attempt had the personal stamp of approval from one of her so-called ancestors. Lotte had to be a dragon ancestor, right? Bah. Who knew what that portly, wisecracking salamander was really up to? All I knew was that I was still stewing over her giving me half the information and expecting me to just roll with it.


    I shook my head, shifting gears. ¡°Well, at least your birthday ball preparations must be gliding along without a hitch.¡±


    She flashed a grin. ¡°Invitations went out yesterday. Delicate scrolls, painstakingly inscribed in ornate calligraphy, sealed with enchanted wax, and whisked away by swift, gossip-hungry couriers who¡¯d sooner die than deliver anything less than perfection. Mother, of course, insisted we line the grand staircase with frost orchids imported from the Shattered Spires.¡± Her smile turned brittle. ¡°Because apparently, hosting a war council would be less exhausting than letting me choose my own dessert menu.¡±


    I snapped a wolfsbane stem with unnecessary force. ¡°They¡¯re training you to wield guest lists like siege weapons. Flay your enemies with¡­ canap¨¦s.¡±


    ¡°Precisely! Father even wants me to personally approve the security wards on the venue.¡± She sagged against the shelf by my station. ¡°As if the Iron Pact enforcers won¡¯t already be lurking like armored gargoyles.¡±


    My stirring rod clinked against the cauldron¡¯s rim. ¡°Cheer up. One day, when you¡¯re ruling your sect from a gilded palanquin, you¡¯ll yearn for these quaint student hardships.¡±


    ¡°Says the girl who sneaks out every night.¡±


    I just chuckled. ¡°Endure the pageantry for now. The moment you step into that ridiculous jeweled gown, you¡¯ll feel¡­¡±


    ¡°Like a prize hog trussed for slaughter?¡±


    ¡°Like the architect of your own legend.¡± I flicked a sprig of nightshade into her hair. ¡°Now quit whining.¡±


    For a fleeting second, I nearly blurted, Hey! Someone just punched a hole in reality¡ªmaybe we should all get our dimensional resonance checked! But I clamped down on that impulse immediately.


    Even if it slipped past Viera¡¯s notice, a scan could tip off whoever had been tampering with the resonance. And I certainly didn¡¯t want that.


    Let the poisoner grow complacent, I thought, grinding dried spider lilies into powder. Let them bask in the brilliance of their own subtle corruption. Soon, they¡¯d learn what dragonfire felt like against the vertebrae they once took for granted.


    ¡°Two more days, and I guess I¡¯ll finally get a break from my oh-so-monotone life.¡± A funny little lie, considering my life was anything but.


    She hesitated for just a beat, then her grin widened. ¡°I knew you¡¯d be coming!¡±


    ¡°Obviously. Now, get back to your station before Vasilisa pops in and gives you another earful.¡±


    The color drained from her face as she scrambled off, throwing me one last, hesitant smile. ¡°You better bring scandalous gifts!¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dare miss your descent into noble debauchery,¡± I called after her, voice smooth as silk. The lie barely registered. My real gift would be delivered in claws and ichor.


    I turned back to my potion brewing, stirring the cauldron with meticulous care before¡ªvery discreetly¡ªlacing in just a whisper of poison to, um, soothe my nerves. The first drop burned across my tongue¡ªliquid silence, smothering the riot of overclocked neurons.


    Not an addiction, I told the judgmental face lurking in the cauldron¡¯s steam. A tactical necessity.


    ***


    Once again, I found myself before ''Lily¡¯s charms and curios'', pausing for a deep, steadying breath before swinging open the door. Inside, Lysska was already holding court, flanked by Quickpaw¡ªwho lounged on a nearby sofa with the nonchalance of royalty, meticulously slathering jam onto her bread. The moment I stepped in, her long, foxlike ears perked up, and she greeted me with a radiant grin. But it wasn¡¯t just me in the room.


    There, nestled comfortably beside Quickpaw and deep in conversation with Lysska, sat that rakari boy, Zoran.


    "While I''d love to escort you to his corpse," Lysska began, "my apologies¡ªthe fiasco from last night has stirred up quite the commotion. The entire forest is now barricaded by Iron Pact Enforcers."


    "I¡­ understand," he managed.


    "Yet you were awfully insistent on seeing his corpse firsthand. Is there something you''re not telling me?" she prodded.


    I couldn¡¯t help but notice a fine bead of sweat forming on the boy¡¯s temple¡ªa little giveaway quickly hidden before Lysska¡¯s keen gaze fell upon him.


    "Oh, Venam, welcome, welcome!" she chirped, the name rolling off her tongue with a familiarity that made me wince¡ªit was the very same moniker Quickpaw had earlier lobbed at those counterfeit enforcers. Shrugging off the slight discomfort, I settled into a seat.


    Perched gracefully on my shoulder¡ªvisible to only me¡ªwas Alice, ever the silent sentinel. Belle was somewhere nearby as well, though I had no inkling of where my precious badger maid might be at the moment. Her new powers were even more bone-chilling than the ominous cawing of Whisper¡¯s crows.


    "I have already told you everything of interest, Miss Lysska," He stated.


    "A rather blunt lie," piped up Alice. But honestly, I couldn¡¯t care less about this guy''s fibs at the moment. I¡¯d unearthed the truth about his dearly departed employer¡ªa revelation that had convinced Lysska of my worth¡ªand now it was time to milk her for some juicy intel. Or perhaps, put her ragtag gang to more productive use.


    Lysska, seemingly oblivious to his dishonesty¡ªor perhaps already in the know¡ªdismissed Zoran with a wave. As he slinked away, I caught a subtle hint of a crow tailing him.


    "Where did you vanish off to last night?" she inquired sharply.


    "That was on me," I admitted, his tone laced with regret. "I really should''ve thought twice before lingering alone in that damned forest."


    "Hoh? I''m sure you''ve heard about someone breaching the Parda there yesterday," she mused.


    Before I could launch into my own fabricated tale¡ªcomplete with a pointed accusation against the Elves¡ªthe bell chimed once more. In strode two more girls: drakkari by appearance, their clothes bearing the stains of hard, grimy work. But it was the smaller of the two who immediately captured my attention¡ªthe very same diminutive drakkari girl I had possessed two nights ago.

 Chapter 130: Sparky and Mean Hand

    ¡°Oh? She¡¯s finally up? Come in, Zofia.¡± Lysska¡¯s voice sliced through the quiet just as the two girls stepped through the doorway.


    And just like that, the puzzle pieces started snapping into place. The very same girl I¡¯d once hitched a ride in¡ªsteering her through those sewer tunnels to shake off those damned Elves¡ªwas standing right here. And Lysska? Looked like she was playing detective, sticking her snout into the mystery of the missing kids. My hunch that this girl had been among the abducted was sharpening by the second.


    Then there was the second Drakkari girl¡ªtaller, same eyes, similar horns. A sister, maybe? She didn¡¯t seem to recognize me, but my former unwitting host? She kept sneaking glances my way, frowning like she was trying to untangle a half-forgotten dream. Did she still feel something? Some ghost of a connection? Or was she just bristling at the odd one out in a room full of familiar faces?


    Either way, I kept my expression smooth as stone. No need to give away more than necessary.


    Apparently, she¡¯d fainted after Lysska found her. How, where, and under what circumstances? That part was still a foggy mess. But knowing she was safe lifted a weight I hadn¡¯t even realized was pressing on my chest. I¡¯d have to pry that information out of Lysska later¡ªcasually, of course. Just idle curiosity.


    ¡°How¡¯s the head, Brana?¡± Lysska asked.


    ¡°S¡¯not split open anymore, so¡­ better¡¯n a boot to the frickin¡¯ teeth,¡± Brana muttered.


    ¡°Brana.¡± Zofia didn¡¯t even look at her, but the warning was baked in.


    ¡°What? I didn¡¯t say the real word!¡±


    I remembered Lotte mentioning that my thoughts had been a little¡­ warped when I was inside this girl¡ªtwisted up in her way of thinking. Explains the, uh, colorful vocabulary at the time.


    Not that it mattered now.


    ¡°Report. Start from the faint.¡± Lysska leaned in slightly, gaze like a scalpel, carving straight to the point. I was curious too¡ªdid Brana remember me wearing her skin like a second coat?


    Brana¡¯s spines flattened. ¡°I wasn¡¯t faintin¡¯! I was¡­ takin¡¯ a tactical nap.¡±


    Zofia snorted. ¡°Tactical. Right. You looked real strategic facedown in the gutter.¡±


    ¡°Was your fault for draggin¡¯ me to that moldy crypt!¡±


    ¡°Enough.¡± Lysska¡¯s voice never rose, but both sisters stiffened. ¡°Brana. The incident.¡±


    Brana hesitated, shifting her weight. Whisper kept quiet, letting her find her words.


    And then, bit by bit, her bravado crumbled. She stared at her claws, voice shrinking. Finally, she spoke.


    ¡°I¡­ I was awake the whole time,¡± she admitted, barely above a whisper. ¡°Watchin¡¯. But my body¡ªit wasn¡¯t mine.¡±


    Lysska tilted her head. ¡°Explain.¡±


    Brana swallowed. ¡°I could see what was happening. Hear it, feel it¡­ but I couldn¡¯t do anything. Couldn¡¯t move. Couldn¡¯t speak. It was like¡ªlike bein¡¯ a sock puppet, but the hand inside was all sparky and mean.¡± She flicked a glance at me, quick as a dart. ¡°And I wasn¡¯t weak, either. I was strong. Too strong. And I did things. Things I shouldn¡¯t have been able to do.¡±


    Zofia¡¯s smirk withered. ¡°What things?¡±


    Brana¡¯s claws dug into her thighs, scales rippling storm-gray. ¡°Stuff you¡¯d piss yourself tryin¡¯,¡± she spat, voice fraying at the edges. ¡°Cracked an elf¡¯s skull on a coffin ¡®til his brains slopped out like rotten squash. Ripped another apart¡ªpop¡ªarm here, leg there¡ª¡±


    Zofia lost all color, while Lysska¡¯s expression turned contemplative.


    Well. That put a wrench in things. I¡¯d assumed she was just¡­ asleep while I was at the wheel. Oh, Thalador, what if she could hear my thoughts too? I studied Brana¡ªthe tremor in her voice, the way her eyes flicked to the corners of the room. She knows. She must. But if she could sense me when I was inside her, she gave no sign. Small mercies.


    Lysska¡¯s eyes narrowed at one particular word.


    ¡°Magic?¡±


    A frantic, jerky nod. ¡°Felt like worms in my veins. I don¡¯t even have a core¡ªbut my body was casting. I¡ªI could make people move. Control them like puppets. No chants, no gestures¡ªjust wanting. And then there were these¡­ things. Shadowy things with too many limbs.¡± Her hands trembled now. ¡°They crawled out of magic circles around me.¡±


    Silence stretched, thin as a blade.


    ¡°There¡¯s a rhythm to her fear,¡± Alice murmured, her voice a scalpel in my ear. ¡°Adrenaline and¡­ euphoria. She liked it.¡±


    Brana swallowed. ¡°They were going to sacrifice the boy. Their leader had the knife raised, and I¡ªI made him drop it. Made him stop. Made him let go.¡± Her eyes flicked to Lysska¡¯s, wide and searching.


    ¡°Then, the boy took his chance and stabbed him. That¡¯s when I felt it. When he ran. A hum. Something strange. A tentacle shot out from the statue and¡ª¡± She swallowed again. ¡°It ran him through. The leader. And then¡­ he exploded.¡±


    Lysska¡¯s expression flickered¡ªjust barely. ¡°And after that?¡±


    A shuddering breath. ¡°I grabbed the boy and ran. Tore apart any elf in my way. I¡ª" She hesitated, reaching for the right words. "I should¡¯ve been afraid.¡±


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    Lysska¡¯s gaze softened, just a fraction. ¡°Were you?¡±


    Brana didn¡¯t answer right away. Slowly, she reached into her clothes, pulling free a pendant¡ªthe same one. A hiltless sword encircled by twisting waves.


    ¡°I was praying,¡± she murmured. ¡°Praying to the Mother Ancestor. And she answered.¡± Her grip tightened around the pendant. ¡°It was her power that took over me.¡±


    ¡°Reverence. Fear. Awe.¡± Alice¡¯s whisper curled through my mind.


    A rare silence from Lysska. Even Zofia looked mildly horrified by her sister¡¯s admission. And yet, her hand never left Brana¡¯s shoulder.


    It was a strange thing, watching them. Like staring through a cracked mirror. I¡¯d once been in this position¡ªhelpless, stolen away¡ªbut I¡¯d had power. Protection. What if I hadn¡¯t? How much terror had this girl endured?


    And yet, her face held firm. Brave. And her sister, despite the shock, kept enough presence of mind to pat her, slow and steady, as Brana leaned in.


    Lysska exhaled. ¡°Have you told anyone else?¡±


    ¡°No one!¡± Brana jutted her chin, defiant. ¡°Zof said play dumb, so I gagged myself real nice for the enforcers. Even faked amnesia!¡± A brittle grin. ¡°Acted so sweet, they bought me honeycakes.¡±


    Zofia¡¯s laugh was hollow. ¡°You hate honey.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯why I chucked ¡®em at a stray dog. Little shit deserved a stomachache.¡±


    Lysska just tapped her quill against the parchment, nodding.


    ¡°And the boy?¡±


    Brana fidgeted. ¡°Still snoozin¡¯ like a drunk gnome. Five enforcers ¡®round him, shiny as new knives.¡± She sniffed, feigning indifference. ¡°Bet he¡¯ll sing like a canary ¡®bout my heroics once he wakes.¡±


    ¡°Complicates things,¡± Zofia muttered, though her hand settled on Brana¡¯s shoulder, thumb brushing the junction where scale met skin. A sister¡¯s Morse code: I¡¯m here.


    ¡°Deny everything,¡± Lysska instructed. ¡°Even if they detain you, comply. They¡¯ll test you for anomalies, but if they don¡¯t find anything, they¡¯ll let you be.¡±


    ¡°But w-what if they catch her lying?¡± Zofia asked, worry sharpening her voice.


    ¡°Their tests will be cursory¡­ unless they suspect deeper rot.¡± Lysska¡¯s fingers tapped a rhythm on the table. ¡°Truth serums are illegal on civilians for cases like this, but considering how deep this runs? I wouldn¡¯t put it past them.¡±


    Her gaze drifted to me.


    Well. I shrugged. If she didn¡¯t ask, I might¡¯ve offered it myself. I didn¡¯t quite get why Lysska wanted the Iron Pact to stay in the dark about the girl¡¯s possession¡ªawake the whole time, feeling what slithered through her veins. But then again, it was her. Did she fear their doggedness? Maybe she just didn¡¯t want those enforcers digging too deep.


    And, well. I wanted the same. It was me who possessed her, after all. My secrets slithered darker.


    I reached into my cloak. I always carried extra. My cloak¡¯s enchantment kept the glass vials safe¡ªfurther reinforced by a silencing charm so no one heard them click against each other. Most were utility elixirs. A few? Deadly. One in particular would go airborne the moment it made contact with lightning, turning lungs to slurry within a ten-meter radius. Oh, how I¡¯d ached to aerosolize those elf bastards mid-possession. Reduce their sanctimonious spines to organ salsa.


    But Brana hadn¡¯t been equipped for such artistry.


    ¡°Truth serums have such¡­ vulgar aftertastes.¡± My cloak whispered as I withdrew a vial¡ªazure liquid swirling with starfire specks. ¡°A counteragent. One drop muddies the mind¡¯s waters. Seven?¡± I tilted it, watching the light fracture through the glass. ¡°Well. Let¡¯s avoid seven.¡±


    Lysska claimed the vial with a diplomat¡¯s grace. ¡°My new alchemist apprentice,¡± she said smoothly.


    Zofia¡¯s nostrils flared¡ªscenting lies. Scenting me.


    Brana lunged for the potion, eager as a spark in the gloom. ¡°Gimme! I¡¯ll guzzle the goshdarn thing¡ª¡±


    ¡°No guzzling, firebug.¡± Zofia snagged her wrist.


    ¡°Give her one of your anti-divination charms too, Mistress,¡± Alice chimed in.


    Oh, right. Some diviners could sift truth from lies with a glance¡ªlike that Vorak guy from earlier.


    I reached into my cloak, but Lysska was already sliding a tarnished amulet across the desk. ¡°Wear this before questioning.¡±


    Alice sniffed. ¡°Inferior craftsmanship. Yours would singe her aura less.¡±


    Well, of course mine were better. Lotte herself had taught me. I tossed my own charm onto the pile¡ªa silver thread braided with obsidian shards.


    Lysska arched a brow. I shrugged. ¡°Two veils cut deeper than one.¡±


    Brana snatched both, clutching them like festival sweets.


    ¡°The pendant,¡± Lysska said abruptly, finger outstretched. ¡°Let me see it.¡±


    I was curious about that thing too¡ªZofia had a similar one. Was it an artifact?


    Would make sense. After all, I had connected with my doppelg?nger using one.


    Lysska¡¯s amber eyes kindled, pupils narrowing to molten slits as she channeled. The air thickened, static prickling my skin.


    ¡°She¡¯s probing its spirituality, Mistress,¡± Alice murmured. ¡°A rookie¡¯s gambit.¡±


    Then Lysska recoiled. The pendant clattered against the desk. ¡°Fascinating.¡±


    Zofia stiffened. ¡°I-Is something wrong?¡±


    ¡°Yours,¡± Lysska demanded, snapping her fingers at Zofia¡¯s necklace. A quick inspection, a dismissive grunt. ¡°Dormant. But this¡ª¡± she lifted Brana¡¯s pendant like a dead rat by the tail, ¡°¡ªis active. An artefact.¡±


    Silence gripped the room. Even Quickpaw¡¯s ears swiveled forward, her boredom dissolving.


    Zofia¡¯s ears twitched. ¡°D-dangerous?¡±


    ¡°Extremely.¡± Lysska turned the relic, its edges chewing the light. ¡°The Iron Pact entombed these for a reason. You¡¯re lucky it didn¡¯t hollow your sister like a gourd.¡±


    Brana protested. ¡°But it helped! Made the elf-goons go splat!¡±


    ¡°Nothing from the astral plane helps.¡± Lysska¡¯s voice could¡¯ve chiseled marble. ¡°It transacts. You just haven¡¯t paid the toll yet.¡± She exhaled sharply. ¡°Every artifact went dormant decades ago¡ªofficially. But rumors suggest anomalies. Some might be waking up.¡± Her fingers tightened. ¡°I don¡¯t know its purpose. And I can¡¯t test it safely. These things are dangerous.¡±


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Zofia asked, stepping closer.


    ¡°Leave it. Feign amnesia. If it proves benign¡­¡± Lysska pocketed the pendant, cutting off Brana¡¯s whimper. ¡°...you¡¯ll get it back.¡±


    ¡°B-But¡ª¡± Brana protested.


    ¡°Almost all artifacts connect to the astral plane. I don¡¯t know how you activated this one¡ªyou don¡¯t even have spirituality¡ªbut listen closely.¡± Lysska¡¯s voice sharpened. ¡°The spirits in that place always demand a price.


    ¡°If you hear anything¡ªvoices, temptations, whispers in the dark¡ªif shadows shift wrong or animals act strangely, report to me immediately. You shriek if a street cat so much as sneezes odd. Understood?¡±


    Her grip on the pendant tightened.


    ¡°I¡¯m keeping it for your own safety. If it¡¯s harmless, you¡¯ll get it back. But until then? Do not take any risks.¡±


    Brana looked like she wanted to argue¡ªher fingers twitching toward the pendant¡ªbut Zofia shot her a glare, and she fell silent.


    Meanwhile, my suspicions solidified. Artifacts were the key.


    There were twelve sections in that water tunnel. Did that mean twelve artifacts tied to me?


    And if these artifacts connected to the astral plane, like Lysska said¡­ then that strange water tunnel¡ªthat glassy lake with shadows lurking beneath¡ªwas that part of the astral plane too?


    It made sense. But I couldn¡¯t be certain.


    Every answer unraveled four new questions.


    If only Lotte would open her damn mouth.


    As the sisters left¡ªBrana muttering about ¡°butt-faced pendent thieves¡±, Zofia steering her by the scruff¡ªI turned to Lysska. Quickpaw¡¯s purr echoed behind me.


    Lotte¡¯s silence wouldn¡¯t stop me from chasing the truth.


    And, thank Thalador, I happened to have the best information broker in the city sitting right in front of me.

 Chapter 131: Not Assassination. An Invitation.

    "I ran."


    "Elaborate."


    "Was sniffing around for divination traces when I felt a weird mana surge¡ªnext thing I knew, I¡¯d practically tripped over a bunch of hooded Elves."


    Lysska arched a brow. "Interesting. So¡­ Elves were behind whatever went down in Veilwoods."


    Hoh. Those creepy woods actually had a name?


    "Veilwoods?"


    Lysska gave me a flat look. "Did Vyra not warn you before you wandered in there?"


    I frowned, glancing at Vyra. The aforementioned gremlin suddenly found the ceiling''s cobweb rafters fascinating, fingers braiding her raven hair into guilty plaits.


    "Warned me about what?"


    Lysska pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is exactly why I don¡¯t trust her with responsibilities. The forest, genius. She was supposed to warn you about that."


    "I¡­ might need you to be a little more specific."


    Lysska exhaled sharply. "Lower district folks know this like they know their own names, but somehow, I¡¯m not shocked that a middle-district brat like you is clueless. So let me spell it out¡ªdo not, and I repeat, do not go near that forest. Especially not alone. That copse isn''t some overgrown park¡ªit''s Varkaigrad''s rotten tooth. There¡¯s a reason it¡¯s been abandoned for centuries and yet still sits untouched within city walls. The iron palisade isn''t civic decoration."


    A creeping dread curled in my gut. I had literally performed a ritual in there and flung open the gates to the abyss.


    Still. "And that reason is¡­? Vyra only mentioned it was abandoned inside the city walls. I noticed the eerie lack of people, sure, but why haven¡¯t I ever heard of Veilwoods before?"


    Lysska shook her head. "You live in a city of millions. Veilwoods is just a local ghost story¡ªa small grove compared to the sprawl of Varkaigrad. Especially now, since the mist hasn¡¯t rolled out of it in nearly a decade. But even now, mothers in the lower district still whisper to their kids: Sleep, or the Veilwoods fog will come and take you away."


    I didn¡¯t like where this was going.


    "This little patch of trees goes back before Varkaigrad even existed," Lysska continued. "Back when sects ruled the wilds of Fenrath. The ancestors blessed the land, and that grove was a place where the Parda¡ªthe fabric of reality¡ªran thin. It sprouted all kinds of strange, twisted flora.


    "But when the clans united to build this fortress-city, they ran into a problem. The old walls were small, but as Varkaigrad grew, its engineers hit an obstacle¡ªthe sacred grove lay right in the path of the Eastern Wall. No one dared cut it down. Fear of ancestor¡¯s wrath kept it untouched, so the city simply built around it."


    "Doesn¡¯t exactly scream death trap to me," I muttered.


    Lysska¡¯s smile was humorless. "Ah, but things change. Once, a ruling faction decided they didn¡¯t care about curses and tried to clear the forest. The stories say that when loggers stepped into Veilwoods, they triggered something. The trees bled black sap. Tools rusted to dust overnight. Workers disappeared into the mist. One by one, their entire sect followed.


    "After that, no one dared touch it. It became an urban legend¡ªwhen the Veilwoods fog rolls in, you stay out. Because once you step inside? You never step back out."


    A cold shudder ran down my spine. "If the Parda is weak there, that sure as hell sounds like a gateway to one of the Seven Realms."


    Lysska sighed. "Would love to give you a clear answer, but I don¡¯t have one."


    Alice chimed in immediately. She was telling the truth.


    "Over the centuries, rogue alchemists, treasure hunters, even Council-sanctioned teams tried to uncover what exactly had been triggered in that forest. Every single attempt failed¡ªone way or another. And that was without the abducting mist being present.


    "Enchanted weapons warped or malfunctioned, sometimes fusing with the vines, sometimes turning into feral creatures entirely. It was like the whole place functioned like a dungeon. And then there was the ecosystem¡ªtrees sprouting in hours, wildlife mutating overnight. While it¡¯s been relatively dormant lately, no one dares to go poking around in there. Fear of the unknown is a powerful deterrent."


    "So, technically, it¡¯s safe to enter right now," Lysska said, her gaze cutting toward Vyra.


    Vyra flinched.


    "A few warnings about things to watch out for would have been precious," Lysska finished dryly.


    The whole account left a gnawing unease in my gut. Enchantments twisting into horrors. A mist that abducts people. A place where reality itself is thin.


    Oh, Thalador. And I just opened a gate to the abyss there.


    What if I triggered something new?


    I hated unpredictable places like this. But what was done, was done. No changing that now. I¡¯d need to tell Lotte about this¡ªmaybe she¡¯d be able to shed some light on it. I still suspected she was one of the ancestors the people of Vraal¡¯Kor worshipped.


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    For now, I reassured Lysska. "I didn¡¯t pick up on anything unusual while I was in there. No extra clues from Greg¡¯s remains either."


    She nodded. "Alright."


    "But¡ªthough it¡¯s unrelated¡ªremember the night you took me to Gilded Fang? The underground black market?"


    Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah? What about it?"


    "Something happened on my way back to the Alchemy Tower."


    I went on to describe the strange Drakkari woman¡ªhow she had been limping, how I¡¯d fallen for the weird mind charm she had active. Then I laid out my suspicions: that she might¡¯ve been that Elf in disguise, the one who got attacked in Gilded Fang.


    Lysska listened intently, brows furrowing as she jotted down notes.


    "Give me a quick description."


    "Six feet even. Limp favoring the left, but the ankle bruise displayed textbook counter-pressure mottling. Obsidian scales polished to mirror sheen¡ªaristocratic vanity. And her pheromone cocktail..." My tongue clicked. "Overcompensating bergamot top notes masking... fermented marrowroot. A Zolvathi interrogation perfume."


    Vyra choked. "You memorized her scent profile?"


    Well, with my Intelligence stat as high as it was, recalling every detail from our encounter was effortless. So I just smirked at her.


    "Wasn¡¯t sure what she was up to," I admitted. "She seemed dangerous, so I didn¡¯t follow her. Planned to tell you the next day, but you weren¡¯t around. And, well¡­ I didn¡¯t tell Quickpaw for obvious reasons."


    "You did good." Lysska¡¯s smirk was sharp. "This might be what we need to catch that bastard. And considering you haven¡¯t officially joined the gang yet, you¡¯re already proving more useful than half the idiots I deal with."


    She flicked a glance at Vyra, who pouted.


    "I think she¡¯s just getting lucky," Vyra grumbled. "First the Elf disguised as some drop-dead gorgeous Drakkari woman, then those guys at Greg¡¯s house, then the forest incident¡­" She trailed off, frowning. "Wait. That all happened in two days?"


    She huffed. "I just wish my life was half as interesting as hers."


    Oh, you really wouldn¡¯t.


    Alice was right. I was attracting chaos at an alarming rate. Even my luck had a streak of dragging me into the most insane situations.


    I just shook my head. Lysska¡¯s gaze had gone unfocused¡ªprobably peering through her crows right now.


    "So," I exhaled, "what now?"


    "Leave the next part to me," Lysska said, her pupils flickering at a breakneck pace as she scanned through her crows. "I''ll see if I can track down any trace of that Elf. In the meantime, we move out tomorrow. With Iron gone, his gang is as good as dead. We raid their base at night."


    Her focus snapped back to me. "You''re still not an official member, but that¡¯s your call. You passed the test. Join whenever you want. But even if you don¡¯t, you''re welcome to join the attack. After all, I¡¯m certain there¡¯s some information you¡¯d love to wring out of Thibault. Should you choose to dance with jackals, your truth-serums would prove... instrumental."


    Her lips curled into a knowing smile. "Black Market stock can''t match Alchemy Tower-grade veridicum."


    I frowned, keeping my expression neutral, but inside, I was grinning.


    This was exactly what I wanted.


    A chance to take down Iron¡¯s remnants. Last time, I had been alone. But now? Now, I had the backing of a ruthless, well-known gang. More than that, I¡¯d get valuable intel for Gwen and finally track down any trace of that Thing.


    The stars had aligned.


    But I kept my voice even. "What time tomorrow?"


    "Nightfall. We hit them hard."


    "I¡¯ll let you know. My situation at the Alchemy Tower is¡­ complicated."


    "Take your time."


    Finally, some of the chaos was beginning to make sense. But I had more to prepare for. Viera¡¯s birthday was the day after tomorrow¡ªI¡¯d need to account for that, too.


    "What about those missing children?" I asked. "Did you find them?"


    Lysska¡¯s expression darkened. "No. I had eyes in the sewers, though¡ªthat¡¯s how I knew Brana was down there. She lost consciousness. Had to step in and save her."


    That was unexpected.


    "At least now I know the Elven cultists are involved. But I couldn¡¯t track them any further. And as much as I¡¯d love to keep searching, the sewers are crawling with Iron Pact Enforcers right now. We¡¯ll have to wait and see if they dig up anything useful."


    Huh. If Iron Pact was going after the cultists, then at least something was working in my favor.


    Lysska finished up her notes, and I took my leave. Tomorrow¡¯s raid needed preparation. And then there was Viera birthday.


    Outside, I glanced up at the moon, its light still tinged with those strange rainbow hues in my vision.


    I still had time.


    In a puddle beside me, a grinning badger¡¯s face flickered for a split second before vanishing.


    Belle was still watching.


    I looked up toward the Upper District.


    I knew where Viera lived. I had never been there myself¡ªmainly because of the thing lurking there. That grotesque, clown-like creature, the one stalking the shadows of the district.


    Sneaking in through the shadow dimension would be dangerous.


    But now?


    Now, I had a reason.


    And I didn¡¯t need sleep anyway.


    A quick discussion with Alice sealed the decision.


    "Maybe it¡¯s a good idea, Mistress. Even if we can¡¯t act right away, it¡¯ll help us set expectations for that day. Divination is useful for predicting danger, but unreliable at best. Exploring firsthand might be the better option."


    And just like that, the plan was set.


    Viera lived somewhere near Talon Row¡ªone of the most expensive streets in the Upper District, famous for its luxury shops. I clapped my hands together.


    Finally, some sneaking around.


    And this time, I wasn¡¯t alone. Alice and Belle were with me. That only made it more exciting.


    I made my way toward the main market in the Warren, planning to hitch a ride back to the Alchemy Tower before heading out to the Upper District on my own.


    That¡¯s when my air-sense twanged.


    A blur. A whisper of compressed air.


    Instincts screamed. I pivoted, muscles coiling¡ª


    Too slow.


    White-hot venom bloomed in my shoulder. My claws unsheathed on reflex, gouging furrows in the cobbles as I scanned the rooftops. A crossbow bolt quivered in my flesh¡ªnot barbed, but hollow. An injector.


    What the fuck?


    "Are you alright, Mistress?!" Alice¡¯s alarm rang in my mind.


    I groaned, yanking the bolt out. "I¡¯m fine."


    My Macro-Trophic Sac flooded my veins with icy clarity, neutralizing the cocktail. No tremors. No weakness. Just the metallic aftertaste of thwarted ambush.


    My gaze snapped around. The street was nearly empty at this hour. My mask still covered my face.


    Who the fuck just shot me?


    Shifting lenses clicked into place, enhancing my vision. There¡ªon a rooftop behind me. A shadow. But the moment I locked onto it, it vanished.


    I crushed the bolt. Viscous fluid oozed between my fingers: iridescent, reeking of fermented duskbloom. Not lethal. Restraining.


    Ah.


    The puzzle pieces clicked.


    This wasn¡¯t a poison.


    It was a suppressant. A paralytic.


    This wasn¡¯t assassination.


    It was an invitation.


    A grin slit my face¡ªthe expression of a trapdoor spider sensing vibrations. Collapsing theatrically, I clutched my temple and wheezed. Come closer. Let¡¯s negotiate.


    Three heartbeats slithered into my air-sense radius. Boots, muffled against cobblestone.


    In a nearby puddle, Belle¡¯s reflection rippled, her maid¡¯s cap askew over badger fangs. Squee! ¡®Filth!¡¯


    "Don¡¯t reveal yourself. I can handle these losers," I whispered, eyes wide, limbs slack.


    My tongue ran over the edge of a molar¡ªwhere my own special paralytic was hidden.


    An alchemist dragon was far more dangerous than a normal one.


    Finally.


    Something worth dissecting.