There was, unfortunately, a limit to how far my air sense could stretch. Used to be a meagre 15 metres—barely worth boasting about, really—but 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—not a full-blown earthquake, of course, more like something immense stomping around with all the grace of a drunken giant—I 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—most importantly—check 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—no, scratch that—this 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—an 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—bloody 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—twice 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—no 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—no 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—or 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—though 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—scamper 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—fifteen minutes in, though it felt like hours—something 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—a 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—I’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.

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But now? Now was different.

I picked up the core, scraping it clean on the dirt—it 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—the 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—something 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—not 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—a crimson smear beneath its massive hooves. Despite its clumsy bulk, the brute's charge was terrifying—momentum 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—scales 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—some 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?