Grimfalk attempted but failed to wipe the sweat from his face as he watched his Champion narrowly escape the patrol of armed police officers.

“Why didn’t you tell me that guns were so powerful,” he moaned to Longclaw before throwing a bucket of honey-roasted armadillos down his massive gullet. “Do you see how I’m stress eating over here?”

Longclaw let out a sigh and swiped the bucket from Grimfalk using a hot pink grabber tool she often used for extra reach. Upon seeing it was empty, she snorted and tossed it back at his head.

“You better save some of those for me! Don’t make me start hiding the good snacks from you again.”

“You wouldn’t…my Champion almost died you know,” Grimfalk whined.

“I can and I will. Listen, go get me another ‘Dillo Bucket and grab yourself a case of those Rat Balls. I bought them for you to gorge yourself on,” Longclaw answered, dropping her grabber tool and picking her phone back up.

“Ok, but you better call me if anything interesting comes on! I want to see what’s going on with some of the other local Champions!”

Grimfalk stalked out to the larder that Longclaw kept well-stocked for these types of occasions and got the requested items. He added a couple of Stoat Waters for when they got thirsty and made his way back to the screen.

“Did I miss anything good?” he asked as he settled back into his seat. Longclaw shook her head as she sampled one of the honey-roasted treats.

“Oh man, these are good. No, you didn’t miss anything local…there’s hardly any coverage of our region. I think the only Champions in the area are the mosquito and the pangolin, right?

“Yeah, but I heard rumors that a few other deities were thinking of setting up shop. Plus, you know that after the integration almost anything can happen…it’s worth keeping an eye out for potential dangers.”

“You mean like police with guns, or something else?” Longclaw asked as she reached for another tasty treat from the ‘Dillo Bucket.

Grimfalk wisely did not take the bait. Instead, he changed the subject.

“Brett’s gotta have a plan for the humans. I wonder how many Champions he is going to raise up and where he’ll put them. Given how strong our dear President is, I can’t imagine Charlemagne surviving an encounter with a human Champion until has unlocked a whole lot more of his Theropod heritage.”

“How many Champions has Brett already empowered?” Longclaw asked.

“That’s the thing,” Grimfalk answered as he popped the top from his Stoat Water and took a swig. “He hasn’t fielded any Champions yet as far as I can tell. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for something…”

“Never mind that! What’s going on with your rooster?” Longclaw shouted as she pointed to the screen in horror. Charlemagne had just caught and consumed a small lizard, as was befitting a predator of his stature. But while he was still eating, the young rooster had collapsed beak first into his meal.

Charlemagne suddenly found himself in a vast emptiness filled with soft white light. This confused him, as there was no longer any yummy lizard flesh in his beak. There was a funny feeling in his stomach, not from eating the lizard, but some other strange sensation, almost he had jumped too high in the air and was now about to land. Looking down, he noticed that he was standing on nothing as well. This further confused him. Realizing that something or someone must have done this to him, he determined that he should be angry at the thing or being who had brought him there. That was a big mental leap for a bird of Charlemagne’s intellect. This epiphany may have led to further mental developments, were it not for what happened next.

An enormous blob of blue with a purple center appeared directly in front of Charlemagne. It addressed him directly, and for the first time ever, the rooster was able to understand a being not from his own species.

“I Plasmodium. I bring. You food,” the blob stated. “Die.”

A long moment passed between the two opponents before Charlemagne was able to formulate a response.

“N…No.”

“I see. Fight now,” the blob said as its nucleus began glowing with a purple light that slowly grew redder as it brightened. A blinding beam of energy shot out of the blob and slammed into Charlemagne. The young chicken squawked in agony as the light singed his feathers and began to slowly char his flesh. The attack seemed to go on forever, but there was nothing that the rooster could do except to take it head-on. The searing pain spread from affecting just the surface of his body all the way to his innermost organs and tissues. Charlemagne was roasting from the inside out and the outside in. Still, he hung on until the fiery assault finally abated.

“You strong. Good food,” the blob voiced his approval.

“Food,” Charlemagne croaked in defiance, “you.”

Not knowing what else to do, the rooster thought back to the majestic vision of the creature that had given him a second chance at life. Surely, he would not have allowed himself to be injured in such a way. There must be some sort of lesson that he could learn from the enormous jaws and strong legs that his patron possessed. The powerful hunter needed neither wings nor claws, only a way to get close to his foes and then brutalize them with his savage fury. That was it. Charlemagne just needed a way to get close enough to attack.

The plucky rooster began to flap his wings, but it got him nowhere as he merely flapped in place. He then tried to run toward his foe with the same results. He finally tried flapping his wings while running. That didn’t work either. Having no long-range attack options, Charlemagne was at a loss as to how to attack an opponent that was out of reach of his beak and claws. He desperately needed a few moments for his chicken brain to come up with an idea, but his opponent wasn’t just sitting idle.

Red and purple light began to emanate from the blob as it powered up another attack.

“Wark!” Charlemagne shouted to no effect as the glow intensified. He could only cringe helplessly, hiding his face behind a wing, as the light built to a second crescendo before lancing out towards him. He screamed as pain greater than any he had ever felt enveloped his entire body, from the top of his crop to the talons on his toes. Under the vicious assault, he could feel his body giving out. He was being undone. Everything hurt. His feathers had largely burnt off, his crop was half melted, and his skin felt extra crispy all over. Just moving to better guard his face caused him to almost reel in agony as his ligaments and muscles tore themselves apart. Even the poor rooster’s bones hurt. Finally, after what the second attack ended.

The only reason that Charlemagne didn’t collapse was that he couldn’t. His legs and one of his wings were completely useless. He flapped his one good wing in a combination of panic and anger, but that only brought more pain and no positive results. Although Charlemagne did not have the intellect to appreciate just how bad a match-up this was for him, he was nonetheless able to feel the injustice of his situation. White hot rage coursed through his veins, somehow soothing the worst of his injuries and sending new strength throughout his entire body.

However, Charlemagne’s opponent was not idle while he reveled in the new sensation and slowly recovered his strength. All too soon, it launched another wave of deadly light towards the young rooster. Charlemagne burned for the third time in a row, barely clinging to life. His wings and legs were completely charred, his eyes had melted away, and his body was covered in third and fourth-degree burns. Without a miracle, there was no way he’d survive another assault.

“Why is Charlemagne just lying there!” Grimfalk demanded as he leaped up and began stalking back and forth, his tail waving angrily all over the place and almost knocking down one of the room’s two standing lamps. “His vitals are all over the place…is he sick? In some sort of healing coma? An unexpected evolution maybe?”

Longclaw opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, a green telephone icon appeared on the screen. Grimfalk stopped his pacing to stare at the icon.

“Quick! Answer it,” he demanded. Longclaw wordlessly complied.

The upper portion of what could only be described as a blue blob filled most of the screen. A black stovepipe hat sat directly on top of the creature, jiggling just the tiniest bit in time with the blob who wore it. A tendril formed from one of the creature’s sides, waving in a rather disarming manner at the pair of theropods.

“Hi Grimfalk! And Lady Longclaw, it’s so good to see you!”

Longclaw waved back and responded, “Hi Plasmodius, long time no see. What are you up to?”

"Ah, I presumed you might wish to observe my Champion engage yours in combat. After all, I am aware that you possess merely the standard viewing package, rendering you unable to witness the duel presently unfolding upon the metaphysical plane. I must say, my Champion is thoroughly thrashing yours at this very moment—quite spectacularly, I might add. I daresay he’s on the verge of delivering a finishing blow. Care to have a look?"

“I will gut you like a fish!” Grimfalk roared as he lunged toward the screen. His cavernous jaws opened wide, threatening to engulf the screen. Longclaw chose not to intervene, her poker face formidable as she watched the situation unfold around her. Grimfalk caught himself moments before the screen was crunched, retracting his jaws and regaining his composure. On the other end of the line, Plasmodius radiated amusement but chose not to say anything until Grimfalk had retaken his seat.

“I would be remiss if I failed to point out that I do not possess any organs that can be ‘gutted, my dear Grimfalk. Yet while we dally so, I fear that your Champion’s condition grows more dire by the moment. We may miss the denouement entirely if we do not hasten.”

“Fine,” Grimfalk ground out, small tongues of fire emanating from his nostrils as he seethed. “Show me,” he added.

“Very good, just one tick while I patch this in…there. You should be able to hear me still. Testing, one, two.”

The screen changed abruptly to show the battle between the plasmodium Champion and Charlemagne. The poor rooster was being slowly fried to death as the powerful beam attacks from his opponent slowly wore down what passed for his body on the metaphysical plane. Grimfalk’s merciless talons carved deep gouges in the reinforced leather sofa as he could only watch, helpless to assist, as his Champion suffered.

“I had high hopes that some of my Champions would meet those of President Brett on the front lines before Integration Day, but it seems our dear President is sitting on the sidelines for the moment. Oh, I can’t wait to see how deliciously underhanded his scheme will turn out. By the by, I fear I have been terribly impolite. Allow me to introduce you to Falciparius-221B. He’s one of my favorite Champions, you know. Terrific ability set, terrifyingly fast reproduction speed, and one-hundred-percent lethal so far. It is unfortunate that your Champion ran ‘afowl’ of him. But, such is life…”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Longclaw groaned at the bad pun as Grimfalk leaned forward, noticing something that hadn’t been visible a moment before. Something that could turn the tide of battle in Charlemagne’s favor.

“If you’re so sure that your guy is gonna win,” he retorted, putting on an air of nonchalance. “Why don’t we make this interesting?”

Although he lacked facial features, Plasmodius nonetheless appeared shocked.

“My dear Grimfalk! What are you proposing? That we sully our honor by placing a wager on the results of this combat? Perish the thought!”

“Plasmodius,” Longclaw butted in. “Everyone knows you haven’t turned down a wager in over five thousand years. You can drop the act.”

“You wound me, Lady Longclaw. Do you not know that one cannot leap directly to the main event? When there is a good wager to be made, the anticipation of the deal can be just as scrumptious as the…outcome. But, perhaps you have a point. The matter is, shall we say, somewhat time-sensitive. How much were you thinking of wagering?”

Grimfalk took a quick glance at the screen, confirming that he had indeed seen something that Plasmodius was seemingly unaware of.

“That depends,” he answered smoothly, leaning forward. “How much you got?”

The plasmodium Champion’s attack took longer to arrive than expected, but its power seemed to dwarf that of the previous three beams. Charlemagne ignored it as best as he could, focusing instead on the feeling of soothing warmth that had now settled in his chest and was growing stronger by the moment. Having no eyes or working limbs made it easier for Charlemagne to send his attention inward, allowing him to enter into a sort of trance: his ravaged flesh had reached a place beyond pain, his mind a state of emptiness that surpassed the patience of a thousand birds of prey, and his soul had passed through the fires of suffering to a state beyond hope and fear. In other words, he was in a perfect condition to meditate and, seeing as his consciousness had been pulled to a metaphysical plane, in a perfect place to do so. A blue light began to glow from deep inside him, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

Grimfalk and Longclaw were on the edges of their seats as Charlemagne’s metaphysical body gave out, crumbling away as the searing light continued to wash over him. His head, neck, and torso vanished in moments. His ribs held out a little longer before burning away along with the sternum. After a few more moments, the only thing that remained was Charlemagne’s beating heart. A light blue glowing sphere made of energy was tucked up next to it. The pair beat slowly together at first, but the time between beats shortened after every pulse.

The sphere’s glow continued to intensify until blue light flooded the metaphysical battle space, while the heart’s frenetic beating drowned out all other sounds.

Back in Grimfalk’s dimension, the theropod was grinning.

“He’s done it, he’s really done it!” the deity announced with glee. “I didn’t expect him to awaken any sort of advanced skill this early, certainly not before his class selection!”

“Is that a mana core?” Longclaw asked as she risked a side glance at the blindingly bright screen. “The System documentation said they were very rare and only given to talented individuals who can create a connection between their spirit and corporeal bodies.”

“And that’s just what he’s done!” Grimfalk cried in triumph. He opened his mouth to continue, but at that moment, Plasmodius’ outraged voice cut in over the heartbeats.

“This is absurd, I say! Entirely rubbish. My champion is the epitome of lethality, a deadly scourge that none can resist. How can this…this…rooster cling to life so stubbornly!”

“Listen, my friend,” Grimfalk responded, feeling generous now that he had all but won the bet. “I know what it’s like to bet big and lose. There’s no shame in backing your own species over all others, so no hard feelings, all right? Maybe next time your guy will kill mine.”

“I may have lost the bet, good Grimfalk, yet my Champion remains willing and able to continue the contest. Your Champion seems to be lacking a significant amount of body parts…in fact…I still don’t know exactly how he’s still alive. I am most vexed.”

Longclaw looked over at Grimfalk, and, after receiving a nod of approval, fielded the question.

“Charlemagne, our Champion, has just awakened a mana core. It’s an advanced skill granted by the System, but according to what I’ve read, it seems that the core acts as an additional power source that will increase the effectiveness of all attributes. Additionally, it grants the owner access to mana if they couldn’t already use it. Right now, there are probably only a handful of Champions who have managed to unlock mana. And remember that on the metaphysical plane, where biology doesn’t really matter, mana is an extremely useful asset, acting as a willpower multiplier, damage shield, and a vehicle to convey conceptual attacks. In fact…how did your own Champion unlock the ability to drag Charlemagne to the metaphysical plane in the first place?”

For a blob of cytoplasm, Plasmodius managed to look awfully nervous.

“Well…er…you see…that is…I’m not exactly at liberty to discuss how my Champion gained that capability.”

“Why you little…” Grimfalk began before Longclaw cut in.

“We understand, and of course, we’re not going to be revealing all of Charlemagne’s cards either. Not that we need to at this point. Look, you can actually see what’s going on again.”

The blinding light had finally faded enough for the trio to see what was going on in the battle of Champions. Charlemagne’s body has begun to rapidly reform from the inside out, concealing the mana core nestled up against his heart as his organs, bones, muscles, skin, and even feathers regrew. Something about the rooster felt different, however. It was almost as if Charlemagne had been nothing more than an insubstantial ghost up until now. His appearance was largely unchanged, but there were subtle changes. His beak was a bit longer and curved down just a tad at the end, similar to an eagle’s. His wings had lengthened and looked stronger. Finally, his feathers briefly cycled through the colors of the rainbow before settling back down to their original color: shiny black with just a hint of iridescence.

Having fully regenerated, he eyed his opponent again. Gone was the pained, panicked look. His gaze was like that of a judge, an eye that measured up the world and found it wanting. There was a long pause as the two Champions sized each other up. Then Charlemagne spoke a single word.

“Die.”

Mana began to surge out of his core and gathered in the rooster’s throat. As the power swelled and condensed, a corona of blue flames emanated from Charlemagne’s body, rising higher and swelling outward as he struggled to put all of his newfound power into a single attack. He clamped down on the mana will all of his willpower, somehow realizing that if he lost control of the attack, it would destroy him in an instant. For a few long, tense moments, the mana destabilized, sending out a few stray beams of power that punched through the rooster’s throat and disappeared off into the vast nothingness of the metaphysical plane. Charlemagne refused to stop, however, wrenching the mana back under his control and forcing even more into the ball. When the ball felt completely full, he turned his attention to his opponent and flapped his wings. And this time, he moved. It was just the barest of inches, but he began to close the distance with his parasitic foe.

“No!” the other Champion yelled as Charlemagne inched forward. It redoubled its efforts to bring its full power to bear as well, channeling more of whatever energy it was using through its body and into another attack. This time, however, a purple aura tinged with streaks of red flared up around the blob, warring against the blue flames that were emanating from the rooster. The dueling auras grew even more intense as both fighters poured everything they had into offense, knowing that there was no point in conserving their strength. After this attack, one would live, and the other would die. The plasmodium Champion released its attack first, punctuating its release with a sharp exhalation.

“Haaaa!!!!!”

Time felt like it slowed down to a crawl as Charlemagne saw the angry beam of light stab outward directly towards him. He could feel the power roiling off the attack and instinctively knew that it was far stronger than the previous assaults he had barely survived. The mana accumulated in his own attack practically begged to be released, he once again had to struggle to contain it and force it to act as he desired. And yet he forced the mana to wait since it was not yet time to act. He closed his eyes, feeling out the distance with a sense he did not possess before his transformation. In his mind’s eye, he could sense the beam of light rolling in like the tide: powerful, inexorable, but unfocused. His own held less raw power, but it was far more compact. The timing would have to be perfect if he was to survive. The moment arrived, as he knew it would, and Charlemagne opened his eyes.

The rooster’s mouth opened wide, wider than should have been possible given his avian biology. A bright blue ball of energy gathered inside the open mouth, growing in luminosity until it looked like a star, a pinpoint of light blazing in the vastness of space yet visible across nigh-endless distances.

“Buk-kawk!”

The ball swelled to over doubled Charlemagne’s size as it surged forward, slamming into the oncoming purple beam and splitting it in two. The two halves of the now disrupted attack passed by on either side of Charlemagne, taking a few of his feathers but leaving him otherwise intact. The heat that roiled off the attack was incredible. It would have charred Charlemagne to a crisp had it struck even a glancing blow. Having broken the enemy’s attack, the ball proceeded to force its way upstream, muscling through the less dense energy slowly but surely. It continued to lose velocity and size, however, the closer it got to the other Champion, who was still managing to maintain the enormous beam attack despite the incredible drain.

The plasmodium roared as it fought with every scrap of power at its disposal to push back Charlemagne’s attack, slowing the ball of blue energy and causing it to shed volume at a much quicker rate. But the strain was beginning to show as the extra effort rapidly wore down the enemy Champion, and its attack began to sputter. Charlemagne’s orb advanced more rapidly again, gaining momentum as the plasmodium flagged. But the orb was still shrinking. By the time it was close enough to threaten the enemy Champion, it was only the size of a tennis ball.

The plasmodium Champion gave one last cry and pushed out a final wave of energy that completely obscured Charlemagne’s attack. With the last of its reserves spent, it slumped over. Charlemagne’s energy ball was no longer sufficient to disrupt the purple and red wave, and he was forced to use what little mana he had left to shield himself from the attack. Thankfully, the attack was far weaker than it had been when the enemy was at full strength because his hastily constructed defenses barely held. If the enemy was given time to recover, he wasn’t sure how long he could hold out.

The backwash from all the power being thrown around had temporarily disrupted Charlemagne’s new energy sense, so he had temporarily lost sight of his attack. As the leftover power from the plasmodium Champion’s final push dissipated, he found it again. It had once again shrunk down in size, now no longer than a pea, but it was dead on target. It passed straight through the enemy Champion, punching through both its outer membrane and the inner membrane that separated the red and purple core from the rest of the being’s amorphous body, before dissipating.

Despite its obvious fatigue, the enemy’s reaction was instantaneous and dramatic. It shrieked and began to undulate wildly as the reddish-purple contents of its nucleus leaked out into the blue cytoplasm. As the two fluids mixed, the plasmodium Champion grew steadily weaker, its aura all but disappearing. Charlemagne was confused by the strange turn of events. To his underdeveloped mind, his attack had not dealt the other being a significant blow, much less a mortal one. Fearing some sort of trap, he kept his distance as the light inside the other being slowly faded away.

Once his opponent had gone completely limp and the light inside it was entirely gone, Charlemagne waited a few moments before moving just the tiniest bit closer. He still wasn’t sure that the other creature was not playing dead, and his recently awakened power sense had been overwhelmed by the enormous amounts of energy being thrown around moments ago. Ooze continued to leak out of the injured plasmodium, forming a long, thin string that gently floated nearby. The rooster watched as the string slowly lengthened, wondering if it was edible. Feeling that the danger had passed, Charlemagne flapped his wings and edged closer. It was then that the squiggles reappeared, as beautiful as ever. Even better, Charlemagne could tell that they brought incredible news.

Congratulations, you have earned the achievement (Tempered Soul). You are among the first 100 beings to undergo soul tempering, an arduous process that unlocks hidden potential and future growth. Skills related to your soul will be easier to acquire. Attributes are ten percent more effective.

Congratulations, you have earned the achievement (Not Enough Energy). You are among the first 100 beings to have unlocked a hidden energy skill. Attributes are ten percent more effective.

Congratulations, you have unlocked the hidden energy skill: Mana Core. As an advanced skill, Mana Core encapsulates several basic skills including Mana Sense, Mana Manipulation, Mana Absorption, Mana Circulation, and Mana Reinforcement. Additional compatible skills may be fused into Mana Core as they are unlocked. The effectiveness of your Mana Core is dependent upon the skill’s level, your Special Attribute, your natural aptitude towards mana, and several hidden factors. Consult the System Guide for all publically available information on Mana Core. In addition, the presence of mana circulating through your body may affect your physical size. Increasing the level of your Mana Core skill will grant you increased control over this effect.

Congratulations, you have earned the achievement (Champion Slayer). You will deal five percent additional damage to other Champions. This achievement may be upgraded.

Congratulations, Additional template compatibility unlocked for Theropod (partial). Current process to next level is 132 percent.

Advanced Skills Added

Mana Core

Skills Increased

Mana Core 1-> 3

Congratulations, you are now level 6.

Attributes Updated

Strength: (32->34)

Dexterity: (28->30)

Durability: (30->32)

Special: (30->40)

Congratulations, you are now level 7.

Attributes Updated

Strength: (34->36)

Dexterity: (30->32)

Durability: (32->34)

Special: (40->42)

Congratulations, you are now level 8.

Attributes Updated

Strength: (36->38)

Dexterity: (32->34)

Durability: (34->36)

Special: (42->44)