Chapter 87: Final Choices

Chapter 87: Final Choices

Even with all of the wonderful, lovely, darling, beautiful evolutions I'd already done, there were still three more messages crawling across my core.

Don't misunderstand it, I was still not particularly pleased at the mass-scale invasion, and I raged and cursed and hated all that they had taken from me; but, well. These evolutions were very, very appreciated.

Not even appreciated, earned. I'd earned these fucking evolutions, and it was well within my right to claim them.

So claim them I shall.

The vampiric mangrove disappeared under a scarlet glow, the last of the blood from the dryadic corpses dissolving into motes of light that swirled around its trunk as it settled in for a long change—I'd, um. Hm.

It was a tree. How was I supposed to move it down a floor once it finished evolving? I couldn't just keep it in the Drowned Forest—Rhoborh wouldn't accept the new changes and for all that I'd been a sea-drake, I had a moderate understanding of how dryads worked. They needed to protect their Ancestral Tree, and leaving said vulnerable tree in the front entrance of my second floor felt like, to put it lightly, a terrible idea.

But. Ah.

Again, it was a tree. I couldn't very well open up a path down a floor and wait for it to merrily trot its way down.

A question for a later me.

I drifted away from its evolution, sending a few calming tendrils of mana throughout the room to keep creatures from latching onto its current defenseless state, and called Seros back to me; he straightened, sea-green scales still crackling with excess mana, lightning forking around his frills and ivory fangs. His will was indomitable, but creatures were meant to evolve; he could only hold this back for so long before the urge to sleep took over the hunger and the hunt.

To my hoard room, I urged, carving the quickest path out in his mind; he rumbled his agreement and slipped back into the canals, letting the current tug him along as he swam on. A few creatures, particularly those slighted by not having received an evolution, poked their heads out of their dens as if they planned to attack.

The mana burning off Seros' scales quickly convinced them that no, they did not in fact want to fight him.

Smart choice.

As Seros made his way down to my fifth floor, I had one more task to complete before I read his message, and I flew to the Jungle Labyrinth with a glee that bordered on hysteria. It had been a long, long time since the first cave bear had graced my halls with its presence, and since a crushing force had fallen from the ceiling and wrapped it up tight enough to cut off blood flow and let the cave spider's venom and Seros' mighty claws finish off the rest. Her evolution had been one of my first, and look how far she'd already come with it.

So now it was time for another.

The horned serpent was ready to evolve.

She hadn't taken quite the same level of care as Chieftess, merely a few glances over her serpentine horde before she'd slithered back to the den herself, dragging the unconscious body of the naga-ancestry human, Kriya. But I'd expected that of her. She ruled her horde with tyrannical precision, and those that fell behind were left behind; she had no time nor care for those that couldn't keep up with her.

It was an interesting discussion. Were the kobolds made weaker by Chieftess' kindness, or were the snakes made too few by the horned serpent's apathetic cruelty?

I certainly tended to lean towards draconic strength, but I had also seen how well the kobolds worked together and how one could rise above, such as with Chieftess, where in the horned serpent's army, the only way a snake could prove itself was by evolution. Whereas there were healing kobolds, hunting kobolds, defending kobolds already, even if they all shared the same species. On the fourth floor, a snake proved themself by either bringing back enough food for the horned serpent or becoming food themselves, but by sticking with her, eventually they garnered enough mana to evolve, which was more than many of the kobolds above could say, and they'd been a group for much longer than the horned serpent's horde.

Fascinating, really. That was why I had such a diverse dungeon; if I only had one or the other, I would never have seen this perspective.

But for now, the horned serpent slithered back to her den, snakes clearing the way before her in a rippling wave; very understandable, considering her grey-black scales were glowing like a second sun with excess mana. She bowed her antlered head to get through the opening, underbelly scrapping on harsh limestone before she reached the gentle moss I'd spread over her den. She peered into the mound I'd carved in the back, piled high with slumped bodies of other evolving serpents, and made a distinctly pleased hiss; greater soldiers for her sprawling army. I was, in particular, looking forward to seeing her reaction to the newest horned serpent.

Absolutely no doubt in my mind she'd beat the young thing into the ground first, to make very, very clear that this would not be a rivalry situation, but then hopefully she would train her little follower into reaching the same heights that she had.

The heights that were only ever climbing as she finally, finally, curled up atop a bed of granite I warmed as best I could with a faux sun of quartz-light and settled down for her evolution.

I read her message with a glee that can truly not be overstated.

Your creature, a Horned Serpent, is undergoing evolution!

Please select your desired path.

Psionic Serpent (Rare): Its body is covered in crystalline horns, extending from the point of its nose to the tip of its tail; harnessing raw mental force, it has no need for simplistic movement, carrying itself by power of mind alone.

Naga (Rare): From the foes it kills and claims, it takes; shedding its animalistic form, it hunts with both claws and tail, speaking hissed lies to those greater and ripping out throats of those weaker.

Empress Serpent (Rare): For all its followers are blindly loyal, it demands more; slipping from mind to mind, it controls its rising horde to do its bidding, allowing only perfection from those that swear fealty.

Fucking fantastic.

Everything immediately jumped out to me—unlike with the cave bears, whose evolution of lesser bugbear had been a, well, lesser variation on a sapient race, her potential went immediately into a pureblooded naga. Seemingly abandoning her psychic power, but exchanging it for speaking, which paired very well with the honeyed lies that nagas were known for. And considering I had already made a trend of entreating invaders further into my halls with promises of treasure and power and respect, having a naga spokesperson who also came equipped with jagged claws was a lovely little deal indeed.

But if I didn't want to leave behind the psychic powers that made up so much of herself, there came the psionic serpent—abandoning mere mortal styles of movement and flying through the halls, twisting and undulating in the air like some avenging thundercloud, presumably also a power that could be used to rip her enemies to shreds as she soared overhead. And while her horns were already very attractive, I couldn't help but picture them spreading down her back like a waterfall of crystals, glimmering over her scales with a glow that rivaled the sun.

And then the empress serpent.

It was—well, it was her. Tyrannical, vicious, hungry for more than what simple prey or followers could provide. Her previous abilities had merely been a mana-light, something to trick invaders into walking to her fangs with open arms; it had been her that transformed it into a summons, calling snakes of all types and sizes to serve her. She had been the one to take herself from an ambush predator to a ruler, a monarch, a queen.

An empress, some might say.

And when faced with that, there was really no option at all.

It was curious, though, how it was simply called a serpent. My other snakes were constrictors, or cobras, or kraits; but the two options here that weren't naga were merely plain serpents. Was there something important in that? An archetypal serpentine being, above previous species, or perhaps the rising steps toward some greater height?

Creatures could only evolve five times, I knew, until they could no longer condense their mana any further into a new shape. There were hardly any hard and fast rules on the matter, always filled with exceptions, but I knew that the general ideal was that each evolution narrowed in their focus more and more. Why something like my little silverhead had gone from a simple-minded schooler to a vicious schooler to the vicious leader of a school, as with the royal silvertooth. Each step of their journey only carried them further and further towards that mythical fifth evolution, where they would reach the stars that had been promised to them.

Very few creatures ever got that far, my instincts told me. For all that creatures were born the same as their parents, getting to skip as many steps as they had and start off powerful, that still didn't make it easy. Natural evolutions were rare, limited by the lack of pure mana needed to power such a change, and dungeons were even more rare; considering the danger that lived and breathed inside dungeons, creatures didn't get a chance to reach that impossible height. Even dragons, as loathe as I was to admit it, were only fourth evolutions. There was still somewhere higher to be.

But I wanted my creatures to reach that peak.

The horned serpent was narrowing in her focus, staying as merely serpent for the time being. I couldn't wait to see what she became next.

Far too many options for the piddly two-thirds of a point I regained per hour. Seros and Nicau had both taken roughly a third for themselves; I couldn't just cut myself off by continuing to Name creatures without increasing the amount I got from the Otherworld. So.

I selected regeneration.

There was a vague hole somewhere deep in my core where Otherworld mana poured through—I was only tangentially aware of it at most times, a distant hum as pure mana filtered through my stores and filled up my reserves. If I focused, I could actively feel and concentrate on it, but most of the time it was content in the background.

It was decidedly not in the background now.

I hissed and barked as my insides did their damnedest to shred themselves, the hole widening and tearing and ripping—my mana spiraled out of my control, lashing at the walls of my hoard room, before there came a deep, earthshaking snap.

Pure, delicious, wonderful Otherworld mana flowed through me, brighter and stronger and more brilliant than before. I heaved for intangible breath as I wrangled my own strands back under my control, tucking them tight around my core as I peered back to see what I was working with.

Dragonheart Core

Mana: 13.9 / 75

Mana Regeneration: +1.8 per hour

Patrons: Rhoborh, God of Symbiosis; Mayalle, Goddess of Whirlpools; Nuvja, Goddess of Shadows

Titles: Resurrector

Absolutely brilliant. That was enough for multiple new Names; it seemed that every evolution tripled either my pool or my regeneration, whatever I chose. The simplicity was appreciated.

There was a slight fear that maybe Seros' evolution would mean that he would take more of my Otherworld mana, so I would wait for him to finish before I actually started Naming things, but still the potential lurked heavy on the tip of my awareness. So many beautiful, brilliant Names and all the power they brought; Blessing of the Depths and Blessing of the Communer had already given me so many opportunities. I couldn't wait to see what more brought.

Well. I would have to wait, unfortunately. Terribly inconvenient.

But at least there was one more prize I could claim for today.

Please select an Otherworld schema:

Ironridge Crab (Rare): Hunters often specialize—this creature specializes in all. Boasting massive claws for both defense and offense, it gathers ore from seafloors to build up its shell as an impervious shield and for ramming opponents.

Firetail Fox (Rare): Born half fox and half elemental, this wiry creature has no fear of environments or predators. Spraying sparks from its tail, it runs faster than the eye can see and sets forests ablaze in its wake, fireproof fur allowing it to feast on its prey as they burn.

Iceborn Mammoth (Rare): Not so much akin to ice as shaped from it, this creature announces its arrival with both a shout and a charge like an avalanche. Its tusks are made from ever-growing ice, carefully sharpened to gore all those in its path.

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.

Capturing Coral (Rare): It spreads and collects; anything it grows over is stored and kept safe inside, creating dizzying patches of reef where attunements run wild and spirits howl for freedom.

That was... hm.

I didn't believe in coincidence, not really. There were far too many spirits and deities and sufficiently powerful beings out there that changed the facts to their liking for me to ever really believe that things just happened.

My sixth floor was going to be a coral reef, my seventh fire, my eighth a proper jungle. These were planned out, for all that I hadn't shaped them yet, and I'd been collecting schemas in preparation for them. I hadn't been subtle about my plans.

But for all I made plans, it was rather hard to ignore that I was missing a key ingredient of one of those floors.

A key ingredient that was now offered to me.

It didn't... it didn't feel like a test, because it would be a shitty test, but neither did it feel like a challenge. How could this possibly be a challenge? They were giving me what I needed. It couldn't be an apology either, considering the demeaning message of my evolution and the fact that they had specifically only offered older options that had no use to my next couple of floors, thus forcing me to pick this one.

But it certainly felt like something.

I just didn't know what.

I already had a crab, the firetail fox was too similar to my scorch hounds, the iceborn mammoth didn't fit in any of my plans, and the oceanic slime had no floor to house it. The gods must have known that.

And that left only the coral.

I would have picked it anyway, because I'd already been shown those other options and I hadn't picked them before, but now something uncomfortable crawled over my core. A vague sense that I was playing into some greater power's hands—which, as a dragon, I was supremely uninterested in.

But I did want a coral reef.

I selected capturing coral.

My core snapped open and the raw impression of coral was shoveled into the crack; impressions of silver polyps and sprawling reefs and an impossible number of colours and shines and voices—I broke off with a hiss, gathering my mana tight around my core as if that would soothe me.

It didn't, but the transfer ended soon enough, and a new schema sat proudly and ready to be made.

Because I would be making it.

With all my creatures sitting in dormancy, waiting to evolve, there was finally nothing more to pull my attention. Still more creatures to make, still floors to restock as I reclaimed my mana—faster now, thankfully, with the evolution—but it had been far, far too long since I'd made a floor.

And, well.

The invasion had shown me how powerful I was.

I couldn't wait to be even more.