Chapter 10: A New King

Chapter 10: A New King

Mana.

Delicious, unending, ceaseless mana—I had my fill and then more, vast pools flooding through my core. A welcome reprieve from the distinct lack of mana I'd been able to utilize during the invasion.

The mere presence of rotten humans had torn at my control, absorbing my mana and actively using it for their own spells; I'd been able to send commands to my creatures but that had been it. With the first human she'd had no abilities of her own, nothing to absorb the mana beyond a passive pull; these were far different. For future adventurers, those with actual power and numbers behind them, I would be stripped of my control and left to just watch them enter.

But that had been the same for today, and we'd seen how well that had worked out for this particular batch of idiots.

Idiots ripe with both mana and souls. Souls rather full of information, little scraps and pieces of memories—quite annoying memories actually, given as humans only had rather primitive eyes through which they saw said memories—but I could start to piece together the outside world, what lay in the white walls I'd only gotten a glimpse of.

Calarata, city of liars, home to the Dread Pirate.

All of their memories, as fractured and broken as they were, shuddered with fear of his name. Taxes, an iron fist ruling, only their greater fear of being discovered by the Leóro Kingdom keeping them under his thumb—but that didn't explain why he'd stolen my hoard. Why he'd killed me.

Not that, say, finding out he had a good reason would spare him, but I was at least curious.

A message crawled over my consciousness, points of awareness flicking to the one who'd triggered it. A lone spider, huddling under a rock outcropping, curled around three broken legs from the woman's hit; the same one that had bitten the bear, actually. Ambitious little brute.

Your creature, a Cave Spider, is undergoing evolution!

Please select your desired path.

Webweaver (Common): Spiders are a territorial species—but this beast has ignored that and created a communal web, the work of dozens all spanning together to create an inescapable trap. Not yet a hivemind but through releasing pheromones, they communicate across the miles their webs can span, and any foe that falls to them is split evenly between the lot.

Angler Spider (Uncommon): When webs aren't enough to attract prey, this spider creates glowing orbs to scatter over its silk, captivating insects who don't yet understand their position on the foodchain. Through the release of hormones from their thorax, they can turn the lights on or off at will, avoiding larger predators and feasting to their heart's content.

Jeweled Jumper (Common): Foregoing webs entirely, it spends its life constantly on the hunt, jumping between trees and stalagmites alike in their hunt for prey. As active predators, they ignore smaller insects and use their potent venom to take down larger prey, draining their insides and leaving the husks as a warning.

My third evolution; my mana ruffled happily as I examined all the beautiful, beautiful options.

Webweaver sounded glorious and already I could imagine my ceilings and halls filled with nothing but strands of perfect silk, trapping all manners of creatures—but the issue came down to how a communal web would be, well.

Less than communal if I only had one webweaver.

Angler spider was certainly interesting, matching my bioluminescent theme for the first floor, but the spider hadn't exactly been a stationary predator in the short time he'd existed. Attacking the bear, the adventurer; he was a hunter.

I selected jeweled jumper.

The spider shivered, a white glow diffusing over his form—I pushed more mana into healing his legs, slivers of points smoothing over the breaks and strengthening the chitin. A reward for all the work he'd done.

Another notification, one I had expected a bit more with how powerful the lazy creature had gotten. She'd crushed the bear and choked out the adventurer—that collection of mana alone would have been enough to push a newborn creature to evolution, let alone one of the older inhabitants of my cavern.

Your creature, a Luminous Constrictor, is undergoing evolution!

Please select your desired path.

Horned Serpent (Rare): To actively hunt is well below this creature. Exchanging its luminous underbelly, it instead grows crystalline horns, embedded with psionic mana as a hunting lure—when unwarry foes follow the mana-light, their lives are soon ended.

Colossal Boa (Uncommon): Growing to titanic lengths, this constrictor lurks in the shadows and strikes at passing victims. With its immense strength and size, there is little that can successfully fight off its fatal hold.

Luminous Viper (Uncommon): No longer is constriction its only power. Its venom is luminous, stunning and blinding its opponents as it launches ranged attacks from its hollow fangs, as well as letting the viper mark its territory in glows that mean danger to those who understand, and attract lowly prey for those that don't.

Even through the unconscious quiet of her mind, I felt the serpent's pride at what she had achieved. All of the options fit her, though the luminous viper seemed a touch too proactive for her particular brand of using so little effort she enjoyed just falling on her prey to stun them. The colossal boa called to my love for reptiles, but, well. My first floor was three hundred feet long at most.

If she became a species large enough to be called colossal, she'd have no chance to claim a den, let alone find prey.

Horned serpent sounded like it both kept her previous luminescence while also letting prey come to her—so I selected that. She hissed, curling tighter as her scales disappeared under a white glow.

And then I really stopped and examined my floor.

Slivers of mana drifted through the cavern, regrowing whitecaps and lacecaps squished by the rampaging adventurers and dissolving the gear they'd brought; the odd leather clothing they apparently needed to wear and pockets with bits of string and food. Little symbols were embroidered on the hems of their clothing; I frowned, puzzling it over, but the wave of mana that let me understand all languages didn't seem to extend to the written word. Ah well.

Much more interestingly, three blades and a small collection of metallic rings I remembered as money. I hesitated but dissolved them as well, picking through the exact shape of the metal's mana; for eventual adventurers, ones strong enough to bust through stone walls, I could hide iron beneath it. Or maybe influence my creature's evolutions with it, giving the silverheads actual heads of silver or the stone-backed toads some–

Another message, apparently pissed at being ignored, skittered across my core.

Kobold (Rare): Diminutive and weak, this ancient offspring of a once mighty race still dreams of the day it was feared. Though it lacks in terms of physical might, it uses a primitive intelligence to hunt in packs, worshipping the dragons they descend from and willing to do anything to regain their lost strength.

Oceanic Slime (Rare): Water bound together by an immense mana-gem, this patient predator disguises itself as a massive body of water, attracting all manners of prey. Because of its biology, smaller creatures can swim freely through its body, fooling larger creatures into trusting its waters, a mistake they can only make once.

Holy shit.

Okay. Listen. Seros was great. Dangerous right when I'd found him and only getting moreso, especially with his new evolution; but he was still a mundane creature. A decent Bronze adventurer could take him out with a well-placed hit, let alone one strong enough to earn a higher rank.

If I had started out with an oceanic slime, slipping safely into the cove away from all humans and burrowing away from merrows; or a lesser harpy, lofted away to the peak of the Alómbra Mountains; safe to plan revenge.

I gritted mental teeth. No sense in wondering over what could be.

What did I want my next floor to be?

Immediately the harpy called to me—underground I could still have water but flight would always be another love, soaring on wings and currents high above the world; but while my mana regeneration was increased, I thoroughly doubted it was enough that I could build a floor where there would be anywhere close to enough room to fly.

It tore at my heart, but I moved on.

The firetail fox seemed the size that would fit well into my ecosystem, fed by toads and snakes, but I wanted a water-themed floor for my next. Not necessarily one a half fire elemental would fit well into. I would merely have to hope that these choices would still be available the next time I reached my threshold for evolution.

Oceanic slime, ironridge crab, kobold.

For the first, I imagined it was only an Otherworld schema because of how specialized it was; slimes were common all over Aiqith but mostly in their base forms, various materials bound together by a mana-gem. Ones reaching this size would be nearly impossible to find if not in a dungeon.

Which I was.

And it fit the water theme I wanted, even if I didn't fully know what I wanted from that. But it might fit the water theme a little too well—slimes were famous for having vast and varied evolution trees, but this one was almost at its apex. I couldn't very well un-evolve one of my creatures.

Ironridge crab certainly seemed a contender—not the massive size I had to worry about with the colossal boa and well prepared for the water I wanted to expand to, and being underground meant I had far more opportunities for it to find metal ore than scrounging on the seafloor. Balancing offense and defense was certainly something I needed; most of my creatures relied on hiding and striking from the unknown, but as I continued to dig deeper, that wouldn't be possible forever. Certainly an option, even if I worried about its combat effectiveness—crabs were fiercely territorial once they reached the brain capacity for original thought, in the way that I couldn't afford my current predators being.

And then the kobold.

Their description didn't exactly inspire fear, and what scraps were there were further lessened by the fact I had been a dragon—I remembered the sniveling, groveling little packs lesser dragons would keep around for whenever their ego got too bruised. Idiotic, cowardly rats–

When raised incorrectly.

They had intelligence, though primitive; they had pack dynamics, though small; they had drive and grit, though they were so far from their goal. Kobolds were also found in Aiqith as natural-born rather than from a dungeon, twisted descendants of mighty ancestors and commonly regarded as fodder for adventurers looking to reach the fabled first rank of Bronze. But they could be more. Certainly if anyone was going to get them to the top, it would be me.

And, well. I was still a dragon at heart.

I selected kobold.

Knowledge punched a hole straight through me. I would have gagged if I could—when I stripped other creatures apart to learn their schemas I did it slowly, carefully, peering at their build and mana.

The gods—whichever sociopath was involved with the messages—simply ripped my awareness open and shoveled kobold into the crack.

I spat out a blast of oddly scale-shaped mana to clear my mental taste. Bleurgh.

The schema settled through me, rising easily to my command—but I held off. I'd survived this batch of adventurers by having them enter my cavern unawares, getting far enough in I could take them out; I couldn't easily do that if they saw a draconic humanoid wandering around the mushrooms. I would create my first when I had carved out the second floor.

And speaking of–

Quietly, almost escaping my notice, the soul-connection I shared returned to life. My points of awareness swiveled back just in time to see Seros emerge from his mana-haze evolution.

Gone were the rough, pebbled scales—now he was sleek as a fish, a beautiful blue-green with iridescence catching on every edge. Frills had sprouted over his limbs and back, muscular tail now lined with two pale green fins, even the bare beginning of silver horns sprouting over his eyes. Where he'd once been stocky and broad at six feet long, he was now a lithe predator at near ten, gills rippling between the scales of his sides.

Little bastard felt my awe through our connection and preened, flashing ivory fangs.

His power quickly swept through the rest of the cavern—serpents raised interested heads from where they'd curled up to sleep, toads retreating further into their dens. Even the cave bear, though still taller than Seros, stopped gorging himself to lower his head.

A right little king. I couldn't have asked for a better guardian.

Seros rumbled, voice properly deep and powerful now, and started to make his way towards the pond with its flashing silverheads, no doubt famished by the strain of evolution. I sent a burst of disagreement to him. No need for him to try and squeeze his way into the narrow stretch of water.

I gathered my mana about me, glaring in the darkness behind where my core rested.

In my next floor, he'd have room and more to feast.