208.5 KG
Biomass required for evolution: 90 KG.
Evolve: Y/N?
I belched loudly. I’d been hunting in the land to the north of Mount Bob and was currently draped, wings outspread, over the top of a small grassy knoll, looking back to the south. I was forty or fifty miles north of my home, far enough that my titanic mountain looked more like a matchstick poking up over the horizon.
I was safe here, I’d been hunting the local herbivores, large eight legged antelope-like things that bounced about and tried to head butt me with the single long horns that sprouted from their heads. I’d eaten my fill and stored the rest away. I’d ask Kat what they were called and see if she thought they would sell well in the Cod. Eaten whole, they were delicious and had topped me off with enough biomass for another pair of evolutions.
If they were good to sell, I’d be back to stock up again. I mentally clicked yes and braced myself to try to decipher the options without the assistance of the princess. I had to learn to do this shit for myself at some point.
Rolling for evolution choices…
Please select from the following six options:
- Cat’s Eyes
- Absolution-of-Sin
- Iron Stomach
- Increase Mass
- Testicular Fortitude
- Aura of the T-rex
Huh. Maybe I should have waited and done this with Kat on hand. Cat’s Eyes might be night vision, but it could just as likely make my eyes glow if the light catches them the right way.
Two was a mystery to me. Iron Stomach might have something to do with biomass storage, maybe resistance to food poisoning. God knows. Five looked like a courage buff and six… I like having normal-length forelimbs in dragon form, so that’s a nope. So it’s a gamble on a mystery or a safe bet to make me bigger and stronger. Four it is!
I shuddered as my body grew. Now, at twenty-five feet long from nose to tail, I was starting to feel like a proper Dragon with a capital D. I flexed as the muscular twitches passed and admired my new physique. Damn, I was handsome!
Biomass stored:
118.5 KG
Biomass required for evolution: 100 KG.
Evolve: Y/N?
Rolling for evolution choices…
Please select from the following six options:
- Savvy Savage
- Royal Brood
- Gym Rat
- Bifurcated Tail (Blade Variant)
- Tower Defence
- Dragon Fu
Shit. That was another bum roll without Kat on hand. Of course, the system wouldn’t just give me ones I’d already seen before. How did dragons without a sprite manage this? Was it just potluck for them? Do the others get some kind of innate knowledge so they don’t end up gimped as they pick their build? They must have something, otherwise all the stories would be about weird shiny lizards with gold teeth and T-rex arms.
I made a mental note to ask Kat, and possibly Esme, for local stories about dragons. Might as well start scoping out the competition.
Four and six were the only options I felt confident about guessing the effects. Six could likely be a kind of Matrix-like download of a martial arts style into my brain. Four was a bonus tail. The others could be any damn thing! So, draconic martial arts, or finally give in and let the system turn me into Tails from Sonic, but scalier. Decisions, Decisions…
Screw you, system. You’re a fucking pervert anyway. Six it is. I braced myself, but there was no immediate pain, no sudden sense of information flooding into my mind. Then there was an itch. An itch in the centre of my skull that built into a burning agony. Visions flashed before my eyes, a fever dream of studying on a cloud-wreathed mountain top, surrounded by other dragons and presided over by the Scale Sensei. His long white moustache flowed down from his snout and was prehensile, often used to slap some sense into a lazy trainee. Years of study flashed by in moments, punishments, failures, triumphs, all blurring into one as the scenes flickered by in my mind.
I screamed. The roar echoed across the empty grassland as I leapt to my feet and began flowing through the fighting forms that were burning their way into my memory.
While in dragon form, it was a sinuous style. The ground-based component involved the deft use of my wings to aid mobility, block, attack, and feint.
My right wing came forward into Snake-Hiding-Behind-Bedsheet, covering my head from the front, which had curled back, my neck turning into a loop, ready to strike. The left wing rose and beat once as the right snapped back, and I moved into Fanged-Toad-Leaps. I jumped forward, helped by the wingbeat, just as my neck straightened in a heartbeat, launching snapping jaws at my imaginary foe.
Terrible-Snap flowed into Recoiling-Kitten, then Tumble-Washer-Spin-Cycle. I leapt into the sky and began going through the aerial moves. Constantly jinking and diving, aerial combat was split into two types: fighting other dragons and strafing runs with breath attacks. I flipped and spun through the sky, claws flashing as gouts of fire and acid shot out around me.
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I had never felt so completely at peace with my body, as a man or dragon.
I landed and reverted to human form, beginning the kata designed for shapeshifted dragons. An hour later, I was sweating and exhausted. I sat down naked on the grass and smiled at the sky. While the human forms lacked the fluidity of the dragon ones, they were still much better than my previous style, which had involved punching and breaking necks, totally reliant on my enhanced strength and reflexes.
“I know Dragon Fu. Suck it, Neo.”
“Who’s ‘at den, hoomie?” The voice came from nearby, but I couldn’t see a soul. I spun around before clutching at myself to preserve my modesty.
“You appear to have me at a disadvantage,” I said as I pulled my monocle from storage and looked around once more. There. A flickering distortion in the light and blurred information flickered past the lens for a moment.
“What’s dat mean, hoomie? Fink you’se in da wrong place. You’se might get ‘urt, lurking round ‘ere.” I continued to act as though I didn’t know where he was, but began to move cautiously, gradually in his direction. Once I was within ten feet of him, I suddenly accelerated, moving far beyond normal human speeds, and slammed my fist through where I gauged his stomach would be with the human variant of Pokes-With-Tail.
I connected to something solid. A metallic clang rang out, and my adversary skittered backwards, leaving twin divots in the dirt. His invisibility faded like the mirage it was, and an Orlic stood before me. Once again sporting nothing but the He-Man armoured undies. However, unlike Totally-Sane Simeon, this specimen was closer to nine feet tall. He clutched at his groin as his eyes watered. Kat would have been proud of me for the cock-shot, however unintentional.
“Dat weren’t very nice,” he growled. Thankfully, this one didn’t use constant rhyming slang, and his broken English was much easier to understand. Did everything in this world speak English, or was the system translating for me? Not important right now, Bob, focus on the big angry naked dude! His fangs were much larger than Simeon's, protruding out of his mouth and giving him the look of an oversized, green boar. “Not nice at all!” he roared as he straightened and leapt forward.
“Bonk-The-Head!” he screamed, his fist flashing down towards my skull. I countered with Slithery-Neck, swaying my head to the side, then launched a perfect version of He-Who-Bites-Ankles, using my hand instead of my jaws to clamp onto his leg and flip him off his feet. I leapt backwards to give myself a bit of space.
“You’re stronk. But not stronk ‘nuff to challenge Geeku the Super Cyan!”
“But you’re bloody green, you moron?”
The big green bastard flexed his arms as he bellowed at the sky, and then rushed me again. Feather-Riding-Window-Draft took my body to the side, I lashed out with Kidneys-Are-A-Bonus as he passed, and he grunted as the air left his lungs. I spun back and fell into the basic stance, feet spread and one fist raised between me and my opponent. I rotated my hand so my palm faced upright, then flicked my fingers to summon him to attack me again.
“Da power comes fer a need, not a want!” Geeku screamed. This dude loved to shout at the sky. Sparks were starting to drift from his body, and his hair rose up in a halo around his head, like the mane of an electrocuted lion. I sighed and lunged toward him, Tiger-Mounts-Chicken the perfect move for this situation. His fist met mine, and we were locked in place for a moment. The force crackled between us before we were both blasted backwards to skid across the grass.
“I won’t let you destroy my world, stronk hoomie,” he muttered as he glared at me.
“Why the fuck would I even want to, Geeku? You threatened me first.”
“You fool! Hoomies only come to Fuderation land to kill ‘n die!” he snarled. This time, he came at me, flurries of blows flying at my face and chest. His fist was half the size of my head; any blow he landed would likely be extremely painful.
The move Kitten-Catches-Toiletpaper let me bat away the attacks I couldn’t dodge. The-IRA-Special connected, my foot slamming into his kneecap and causing him to stagger back. I pressed in, switching to Shit-It’s-A-Wasp, my hands flying just as quickly as his had. We fought each other back and forth for nearly an hour.
The hill around us had been torn up and largely levelled by blows that went wide or were deflected. We were both bruised, and Geeku was bleeding from several gashes on his face and chest.
The birds and animals for a kilometer around us had fled from our violence, and aside from the sound of laboured breathing, the world was silent. It felt like the entire universe was focused on this moment, this clash of titans.
“Your energy is falling wid every blow. You’se is no challenge to Geeku!” he panted. I raised an eyebrow. Was he high? I was obviously winning our bout. He had landed a few good punches, sure, but I was barely marked. Whereas he looked like he’d just run a marathon, then tried to punch his way through a threshing machine.
“Dude. My energy? Sure, I’m a bit tired, but c’mon, man. I think we both know how this is going to end.”
“Gaaaaaahhhhhhhhh… GGGGAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”
He struck a pose and tensed every muscle. Light erupted around him, his mane of black hair flying like he was standing on top of an industrial fan. He continued to scream as his muscles bulged and thick fur erupted over his body. It started at his shoulders and flowed up his neck to cover his face, his long tusks and beady eyes shining. Next, it flowed down his arms and chest, before finally turning him into some kind of sasquatch.
“Dat weren’t even my final form!” he snarled in a much more bestial voice. “Now I is mad, really mad. You’se is going to pay!”
“Speaking of final forms, you fucking weirdo, let me show you mine.”
Scales blossomed across my skin as I transformed into my true body, my neck extended, and my tail sprouted from my lower back. Razor-sharp claws dug into the soil as I fell to all fours, and flashing purple eyes glared down at the suddenly far less impressive-looking Orlic as my lips curled back to reveal rows of dagger-like fangs.
“Now, what were you saying, mate?” I hissed, forked tongue flicking out, and unfortunately, catching a taste of the urine scent that suddenly filled the air. I sent a gout of acid to one side of him, causing him to flinch sideways. A blast of fire from the other nostril sent him back to where he started.
For a moment, we stood there, one hairy Orlic, sparks drifting from his shoulders as his hair blew in a wind only he could feel, gazing defiantly up at a midnight dragon with crimson-edged scales.
“I gotsta go train. I’ll be back, stronker dan before, not-hoomie!”
He bolted away, blurring into the distance and leaving divots in the grass with each footfall. I watched him go, bemused.
“Well, that was odd.”