Something was decidedly amiss. I decided to dash back to my hideout, only to feel the prickling sensation of yet more elven breath signatures drifting into my detection radius. What in the blazes was going on here? I dodged most of them, slipping past their patrols, snagging snippets of conversation whenever I could. There were a few close calls too—one keen-eyed elf even sensed something wasn’t right and set the entire bush I’d been crouching in ablaze. That got my heart thundering, a sharp reminder that I wasn’t quite the stealthy spectre I’d like to think. At least Shadow Blur had levelled up to three, so... maybe worth it?

Piecing together the bits I overheard, it became clear they weren’t hunting for just one beast. No, they were after all sorts of rare, exotic creatures, apparently for the same organization. And the more I eavesdropped, the more questions flooded in. After that fiasco with the Barn and Queen, I’d have thought they’d put a strict lockdown on hunting licenses here, keeping everything above board till the investigations were over. Yet here they were, equipped like proper licensed hunters. The whole setup reeked of ulterior motives.

Not that it changed my mission. I was out here for one purpose: hunt, gather morphogens, and secure the four I needed to advance my Mana Conduit Vasculature. The elves—though suddenly everywhere—weren't my chief concern, and as long as I kept my distance and kept quiet, I could steer clear. My Air Sense covered a good twenty metres, so unless they miraculously figured out how my detection worked and fancied holding their breath, I doubted they’d catch me unawares.

This was the first time I truly appreciated what all those points into my intelligence stat were doing. Air Sense was a constant, almost subliminal feed; my mind split into layers, processing air currents, cataloguing creatures, tracking individual breaths. If I hadn’t bolstered my intelligence, my brain would’ve been a scrambled mess of static and noise. As I stalked onward, smirking at the notification that Breath of Shadows had reached level two, I pressed on in search of a good, hearty meal.

And that pesky system quest for slaughtering elves? Since there was no penalty, I accepted every last one. It was more than tempting, with each success promising a shiny skill point. But let’s face it—there was no chance of me diving headfirst into a group fight with these elves just yet. I’d seen their teamwork, their arsenal of weapons, staffs, and enchanted trinkets. One misstep, and I’d be the next unfortunate soul roasted among the shrubbery.

Ahh… how thoroughly annoying.

Eventually, after some relentless scouring, I found a target—another one of those wolves. What was with these creatures always being underfoot? I grumbled, wishing I could try something more exotic, but wolves were tasty enough, so no real complaints.

This time, I kept things straightforward. Lightning magic was out of the question; I didn’t feel like pushing my limits again. There was only so much I could channel through a single matrix, and after that last spell, my mana flow had become sluggish and painfully resistant, especially through my claws. Even trying to summon it now felt like prodding a bruise. It was a dead giveaway that I’d done some temporary damage to my mana veins. No more casting until the damage mended itself, clearly.

After my earlier experimentation, I’d found the “safe” amount to feed my runes—4 mana to each lightning rune and 2 to the Arc rune—doubling the base power of my Lightning Bolt. Any more, and it started backfiring on me. That last shot, pushing both runes to 6, had been reckless but necessary. I couldn’t risk guessing the nature of that elf’s barrier enchantment; if it had been an element resistant to lightning, I might’ve been in trouble. Still… with the force I’d unleashed, that barrier would’ve crumbled either way.

I winced as my claws brushed the ground, each step sending a reminder of the strain I’d put on my mana veins. For humans, mana veins weren’t exactly physical—no healing potion would do anything if they ruptured. But as a dragon, my mana veins were part of my very flesh. I could mend them the same way I healed any other part of my body: by eating. And I was very much looking forward to putting that to the test.

Stolen novel; please report.

The wolf froze mid-step, its nose twitching, but it was already doomed. One swift pounce, and my Echo Claw slashed through its belly, a Flamethrower to its face sealing the deal before it could even let out a yelp. Dinner was served.

[You have slain a Level 6 Lupinor Canivorax Adolescentus (III).]

[Experience Points acquired.]

As I gnawed through its innards, I felt that familiar pain ebb away, my mana veins slowly knitting themselves back together. My claws felt sharper, more… alive. Theory confirmed. Alas, my stubborn headache remained. Seems I couldn’t just snack on monsters to mend a bit of mental strain. Quite a shame, really. Imagine pushing one’s wits to the very edge and then refreshing it all with a hearty meal? Greedy dragon.

Still, my Macro-trophic Sac deserved its due appreciation. It was certainly pulling its weight. My mind, though, would remain its own beast to tame.

By the time I finished my feast, I’d acquired a pair of morphogens. Just two more, and I could finally funnel them into my Mana Conduit Vasculature. Oh, Thalador, the anticipation! It had to be something astounding—I’d stake a claw on it.

Slipping through the undergrowth with all the elegance of a whisper, I was halfway to pouncing on my prey when something peculiar caught my eye. The hues—yes, the usual drifty clouds of colour—were acting rather queerly.

Typically, they hover like a lazy plume from a dimming firework, wild and whimsical. But now... they were moving. And not their usual everywhere-at-once shuffle, of course. No, this bright mist was drifting with a purpose, inching—just barely—towards a single direction.

And as it happened, my wolf-shaped quarry was heading that way, too. Well, I thought, might as well tag along. The hues, after all, were part of the dungeon's design, and I was feeling a distinct twinge of curiosity.

It wasn’t long before I detected something else. Breathing. Elf-kind breathing, of course. Normally, I’d find one or two lurking, maybe a trio if I was unlucky, but this... As I edged closer, the count kept rising—three, five, seven, nine dozen breaths, packed together like some sort of layered tapestry. I froze, every scale of mine tingling with caution. A sight like this? I’d be as good as dragon skewer if they caught wind of me.

Still, I edged nearer, broadening my air-sense radar to take in the scene. Faint shapes materialized as I mapped the airflow around them. Hidden beneath a convenient shrub, I shut my eyes and focused on the air. Looked like a clearing lay ahead, little in the way of trees, and in the centre, a tall structure loomed—too smooth to be natural.

The hues intensified with every step I crept closer.

This was unusual, and my instincts were practically doing a jig inside my head. Hues behaving oddly, a veritable elf convention... Decisions, decisions. Should I run like a sensible creature? Or was curiosity about to land me in deep trouble?

Curiosity won out, naturally—stoked by a little flicker of possibility. My mana veins were back to good working order, and if things went sideways, I had the Quick Dash down to a fine art. So, in silence, I crept forward, slipping past trees and shrubs, scales blending in like a fine chameleon coat. With any luck, they’d never know I was there.

As I crept closer, the trees began to thin out, and through a tangle of bioluminescent branches, the scene spread out before me.

The sight was... well, something out of a fevered dream. A colossal, hollowed-out clearing stretched ahead. Entire thing bathed in a strange, ghostly glow. Definitely from pale-green flames that hovered in suspended orbs above scores of hooded elven figures.

Elves, standing in rigid, disciplined circles, all facing a towering stone obelisk that rose in the centre. Surface was a labyrinthine maze of runes. Each one writhing with a sickly, phosphorescent light.

Between each ring of elves, spell matrices sprawled across the ground, dizzying in their complexity and glowing in time with the runes. They circled the obelisk in layered, concentric patterns, spreading outward like some infernal clockwork.

And the hues—they were gathering, swirling toward the obelisk, their brilliance feeding the runes until they pulsed with a rainbow light. Beneath the obelisk itself, in a hollowed base, lay an enormous crystal, iridescent and expanding with every wisp of colour that coalesced into it.

Barely had I time to even consider the purpose of those runes, what they might mean, or why the fuck they were glowing in ways that defied reason. My gaze was fixed on the cloaks draped over those elves.

The very same dark robes. The ones I’d seen before.

The same damned cult.

And then—Ding!—a system mission message blazed across my vision.