“Alright then, Morpho, why have you called me here?” Kinsoriel didn’t dare take his eyes off of the gigantic Gelan. The normally simpleminded things are highly corrosive. Similar to the blood within that worm, touching it would prove painful.

That multilayered voice it held shook him as it spoke. “Dumarn believes this world has become stagnant in the god's absence. Weak-willed beings who refuse change are those who hold power. Therefore, I have come to be.”

He frowned. “That didn’t answer my question.”

Morpho shimmered slightly. “Change must come from the top down. As the champion of a god, there is nobody above you here except for Wex himself.” Raising a brow at the Gelan, it continued. “You will prove your malleability or else be shattered.”

That certainly sounded like a threat, but it didn’t sound like he was trying to defeat him outright. It was more like a challenge.

“All you want is for me to show you that I can change? Just me and you? Nothing else?”

“Nothing else. Prepare yourself, for I won’t be holding back against you.”

Turning back, Kinsoriel waved off those who had come with him. Both the dragons and the deathbounds heeded him and backed off, but they didn’t leave the battlefield entirely. Those who followed Morpho did the same and gave the two champions ample room.

“I’m ready when you are,” Kinsoriel said to his opponent.

Instead of responding, the mass of goop slithered back before launching a tendril straight toward his head! Kinsoriel barely moved out of the way in time, catching a large slash across his cheek. This was only the first among an onslaught of the acidic strikes against him. He was forced to bat away the slimy spears with his arms and legs, dancing about desperately. Each deflection sent a fresh wave of pain through him. Though he was now aware of what it could do, its fluid-like movements were too fast to avoid. There wasn’t much power behind these attacks though, relying more on touching him than anything else.

Thinking fast, he created the mental image of the winds pushing everything away, a storm from within himself. “Gale Cloak,” he said as his mana surrounded his body as a protective wind. The many tendrils gunning for him were pushed aside effortlessly by the spell. Ever since gaining his boon, all of his magic had strengthened to a marvelous degree, in strength and casting speed.

Since it was mostly liquid, he had something perfect for his foe. “How’s this for malleable?” he said in an almost laugh while placing his hands together in a triangle. “Ice Beam!” he proclaimed as the white ball formed and fired without delay. The Gelan made no attempt at evading the spell. Instead, the beam hit the slime directly and caused it to freeze over. A few seconds of this left Morpho as a shiny block.

Hoots and hollers came from behind him. Congratulations were hurled in his direction by those who had accompanied him. His mouth curled up and he basked in their adoration, but something was off. Those belonging to Dumarn remained silent. A scraping noise cut off the cheers and revealed why they weren’t mourning their loss; it wasn’t over yet.

“There has been no change in your actions, dragon.” Morpho’s legion-like voice had become deeper. The still-frozen Gelan shook and shuddered before moving once again. The audience gave a collective gasp, just as surprised as him. Rolling towards Kinsoriel like a giant ball, spikes emerged from its icy surface! From how it was tearing up the ground, there was no question of what would happen if it hit him.

Putting all the strength he could muster into his legs, Kinsoriel jumped high into the air. The solid ball of slime crashed into a tree and barely lost any momentum. Wood splinters burst out as it fell over.

Flapping his wings allowed him to stay in the air and gave him a moment to breathe. He went over what he knew. It shouldn’t be able to move or speak in such a state. Not at all. Though he hadn’t had many interactions with Gelans, this was not something he’d think intrinsic to them. Then, this must be Dumarn’s doing. Perhaps as Wex had bestowed mana upon him, the deity had given Morpho a gift to adapt to any change.

Before he could continue this thought, his foe reappeared within his sight. The spikes along the slime shifted together into a pair of wings. Morpho flew up to Kinsoriel’s eye level, now looking as though it had never been frozen at all. Bits and pieces of the tree it had plowed through floated in its see-through body, bubbling as the acidic gel dissolved them. Seeing this living muck flying just like him made his brow quiver.

“Are you mocking me?” he said along side an offended frown.

Morpho flew closer, extending out tentacles that ended in pseudopods. “No.” It reached out for him with a swathe of appendages, thicker than the ones before. They grasped after the dragon, attempting to grab onto him like an octopus.

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Kinsoriel grit his teeth together as he is forced into maneuvering himself in the sky away from them. His gale cloak wouldn’t nullify a continuous attempt at grappling. Though there was more room to evade in the air, it was much more tiring to keep spinning and dodging like this. His breathing was becoming more ragged as it continued and he was starting to slow down. He knew what would happen if it continued like this. He needed to go on the offensive before one of those tentacles got a hold of him, or it would be over.

Twisting himself to look backward, he judged the distance and made a quick calculation. Once sure it would work, Kinsoriel pointed a claw back at the Gelan and yelled, “Depriving Net!” The ethereal net came into being a short distance above and away, falling over Morpho as it gave chase. It was effective immediately, sending the goo ball hurtling back to the ground. Morpho splattered across the ground like a bucket of paint, spread over the ground with a steaming hiss as the net dissipated.

Wex’s champion knew better than to leave it at that. Already, the transparent slime was converging upon itself, slowly regaining its shape. He had to strike now while he had a chance. Flying over it, he unleashed a torrent of fire breath. The flames singed the goop but did nothing more, only leaving it with a somewhat blackened surface. A deep rumble emanated from Kinsoriel’s chest as frustration came over him. How was he supposed to deal with this?

He tried remembering something, anything at all that could help him here. A book on alchemy he’d read mentioned how one could make something less acidic through the addition of certain ingredients. Maybe that would work? No, it wouldn’t. He didn’t have anything like that with him, and even if he did, this god-backed sludge might just adapt to it anyway.

It wants to see his capacity to change, so maybe he should show how easily he can learn. Taking a breath to calm himself before attempting this difficult task, he made his intentions known. “You want to see something new from me? Then watch as I cast a spell I’ve never used before.”

Though it didn’t have eyes, Kinsoriel could sense that he had the Gelan’s attention now. It stopped recombining with itself and seemed to relent. Morpho was waiting for him as it had been asked. Not letting this opportunity slip past him, he began focusing.

He remembered what that knight had used against him a short time ago. She had called the spell Sever Edge, adding a red energy along her sword’s edge. Though he hadn’t seen what it could do since he never got hit by it, he was sure even a deathbound could guess correctly. He had everything he needed: The spell’s identity, its look, and its function. All he needed to do now was cast it.

In his mind, he envisioned a deadly red shroud wrapped around his claws, specifically the shearing ends of the nails. Anything that they touched would split open no matter the angle or the force used. He held up his hands, claws pointed up to the sky, and uttered the words. “Sever Edge.” Mana came out of his fingers, surrounding them in a crimson glow. A low but continuous hum emitted from the lethal magic.

Proud of his feat, Kinsoriel pointed at the living slime. “Look chosen of Dumarn! I took a spell I saw only once and made it my own." He flexed his fingers. "Surely my adaptability is proven now!”

Morpho was still for a short period before beginning to come back together once more. “While that is adaptability,” it said as the blackened bits of gel faded away, “Dumarn says that you have not shown true change. This is merely part of the nature you already possess.”

Careful not to ball his dangerous hands together, Kinsoriel gripped the ground in anger. Not true change? What arbitrary measurements were being used here? If he hadn’t known any better, he’d think this god was pulling his tail. Even if it was, he wasn’t laughing. Booing from those who had followed further solidified his view that this was all a sham.

Leaping forward, he brought out his enhanced claws into play. He sliced and shredded through Morpho as easily as air, not slowed down in the slightest. The spots he had cleaved through left a glowing red mark in the translucent slime that lingered. Globs of the acidic muck flew off in all directions, with some grazing him as they flew. Where the spell seemed to protect the spots it covered, his arms were covered in damaged scales and flesh.

Without warning, a huge tendril smashed against Kinsoriel’s chest, sending him stumbling back. Though the wind had been knocked out of him, he was still able to hop a distance away. His torso ached and shuddered beneath him. Dismissing Sever Edge, he placed a hand over the affected area and hissed in pain. He felt raw all over his body. Each point of contact had only emphasized the danger he was in.

“Changing tactics is also not true change, dragon. A shame. Dumarn believed that of all the champions, Wex’s would be the one to rise to its expectations.” All the red marks he’d left in Morpho dissipated as it returned to its original shape. It slid over to the side, seemingly changing its target. “In that case, all of you will be devoured to make room for something new.” Once finished saying that, it zoomed towards those who had followed!

Kinsoriel’s expression darkened as he saw it go after his people. The other dragons had already gotten off the ground, but the deathbounds had no means of escape. His nightmare of falling to his doom bounced around in the back of his head. No future awaited him if he let them die, but what could he do? There were no spells he could cast nor was there enough time. The Gelan was moving too fast to think any longer. All he could do at that moment was act.

He forced his body to move. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him. As the slime neared the frightened mortals, he dove in front of them and braced himself for death with scrunched-up eyes. But it never came.

“Well done Kinsoriel.” He opened his eyes, seeing the gigantic slime standing over him. The tone of the multilayered voice was reverent, bordering on friendly. “Your change has been acknowledged.”

“What?” the dragon said dumbfounded.

“May you and your nation keep evolving. Farewell.” Without saying another word, Morpho turned away and slid in the opposite direction. Those freakish smelling mortals it had brought with it bowed before joining their god’s chosen.

Kinsoriel lay there for a while, unsure of what exactly had happened.