Ghrukk and team sparred with the worldstrider squad until their armor dripped with sweat, each clash rattling the clearing where they’d made camp. Selka drilled with Kate until sparks leapt from steel, both women striking and countering like dueling serpents. Rynel worked his bow in silence, every arrow sinking into the mark with clean precision until the target was nothing but shredded bark. Even Devon got swept up in it, clumsily running through talisman activation under Sarson’s supervision, his face pale but determined. Doran, Garret and Eric all worked around the dwarf’s small portable forge, exchanging pointers and lessons on weapon and armor-crafting.
Allie, Myrae, Cole and Henry talked shop on potions, herbs and growing arrays. Henry’s special garden bag was a rather popular topic of discussion for awhile.
Peter, Zach, and Lance worked together to spar with Ghrukk, the Ork’s massive physical stats wasn’t enough to overcome the numbers difference, but it still kept the men on their toes and helped hammer in teamwork.
Alex stayed busy with his own work. His crafting mat was laid out on a flat slab of stone near the edge of the camp, along with a small fortress of scattered tools and glowing materials. He worked through the last refinements on the new siphon plate—forged by Doran and the others from the therizite ingot—etching thin channels in its surface with practiced strokes, inscribing glyph after glyph in tight, clean sequence. It gleamed faintly whenever he passed energy through it, a perfect bridge for when he attempted the next artificial bodygate.
The hours bled together as he worked. He didn’t notice when the sun began to sink, didn’t hear the clash of sparring steel or the huff of labored breathing around camp. His focus was too tight, too absolute, until a shadow fell across his work.
“All right,” a voice cut in, a mix of dry amusement and unease.
Alex looked up. Allie and Henry stood over him, both wearing small, uneasy smiles like they weren’t sure if they should be excited or worried.
“What?” Alex asked, brows furrowing.
Allie folded her arms. “We have everything ready. For your—” she wiggled her fingers in a mock-dramatic flourish, “—Wyrm-heart thingy. If you really wanna do it.”
Henry nodded, “The reagents are mixed. The array’s almost set. Once we start, you don’t get to back out.”
Alex’s tools clattered as he shoved them aside and surged to his feet. His pulse quickened, heat building low in his gut. “Yes. Absolutely. Let’s find a place to set it all out, okay?”
The grin that split his face was boyish despite the edge of danger humming in his spirit. He’d been waiting for this, ever since he felt that strange draconic undertone gnawing at the edges of his Soulspace when he first got his unique constitution. A resonance was buried beneath his human essence, leaving him wondering how he could push the beating heart floating about his shattered mage core further, farther, deeper down the path toward power and strength.
This was it. The moment he’d finally peel that mystery box open. He was going to upgrade his constitution. He was going to poke at the sleeping dragon hidden inside him. And he was going to find out just how much wyrm lived in that pulsating, muscly heart.
The arcane array took shape quietly, save for the occasional grunt from Henry as he set another root, herb or flower into its place. His hands were smooth and extra careful to Aelx's viewpoint, almost reverent. The large man’s bulk belied a surprising gentleness, every herb was laid like a sacred offering, every placement angled with precision so the natural flows of energy melded together properly.
It all had a designated place for the ritual to work. Ashbloom Lotus at the north, its crimson petals trembling faintly in the mountain breeze. Ironroot Vine spiraled outward from the east in knotted-like veins, its clinging soil still damp. Moonveil Fern sat opposite the lotus, silver fronds glowing faintly as though drinking the starlight from above.
All of them pulsed in Alex’s [Aether Sight], threads of natural essence weaving together into a lattice that hummed against the ground. Henry leaned back, wiping his brow, satisfaction apparent on his face. “That’s it. Array’s set. If you’re doing this, best do it quick before the gathered energy loosens.”
At the center of their little ritual circle, Allie crouched over her cauldron. The brew inside hissed and spat like molten glass, a toxic shimmer rippling over its surface. The smell was acrid, metallic and venomous, burning the back of Alex’s throat and nostrils even from several steps away.
She stirred slowly, so very slowly. Alex could see the faint tremor in her hands, the way she bit her lip as she worked. She wasn’t scared of the concoction, at least Alex didn’t think she was. It didn’t look like getting it on your skin would kill you, even if it would be unpleasant. The shaking must have been from what came next then, not her part in this, but his.
He stepped up beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She jumped just slightly at first, then relaxed under his touch. Once her shaking stopped, he smiled. “We got this, you got this, I trust your skills Allie. And I certainly trust my stubbornness not to die.”
She nodded curtly, and continued working on the elixir. Alex assisted, handing ingredients and stirring when she told him to. Eventually, the final ingredients were needed, the ones Alex had been hoarding and preparing for weeks now.
Obby murmured against the back of his mind cynically, as he began adding the beast parts to the cauldron. “Wyvern blood for vigor and poison. Basilisk venom, for potency, binding the Wyvern blood to with marrow. Exacting ratios now, like we discussed... steady… Then the wolf-drake bone, the catalyst, and a dash of the basilisk blood and eye ichor to punch it up a notch, yes, good.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” Alex muttered under his breath.
Allie caught the whisper but didn’t comment, only shot him a questioning glare before lifting the ladle. The elixir was finished, a luminous, sickly looking brew that glowed faintly from within, threads of green, crimson, and purple twisting together like serpents fightning in an ocean.
She poured it into a clay vessel etched with glyph-runes, the steam curling upward in tendrils that looked almost alive. Then she held it out to him carefully. “Here. You get one shot. Once you start… we can’t undo it.”
Alex swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the heavy silence around him. Holly, Garret, Kate, Ghrukk and the others had gone quiet, standing just outside the array, watching with unreadable faces. Some were curious, some grim, some with the faint glimmer of anticipation.
He lowered himself into the center of the ritual circle, cross-legged among the ring of herbs and roots. The circle thrummed faintly under him, natural essence flowing into his body in subtle trickles without even needing his conscious effort. The clay vessel felt warm in his hands, almost pulsating, as if the concoction was also anticipating this event.
Obby whispered again, quieter now. “Unknown outcome probability: eighty-nine percent, with Constitution boost likely. Dragonic resonance is almost certain, eleven percent chance of draconic aether overload. Survival rate… sixty-one percent.”
Alex exhaled slowly, letting his nerves settle. Good enough for me.
He raised the vessel, the venomous light of the elixir dancing, the surface stretched his reflection as he looked into its shallow depth. Allie and Henry both watched him like they’d rather wrestle it away from him than let him drink, but neither moved to stop him.
Alex didn’t hesitate any further. He tipped his head back and drank.
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The taste was like fire seasoned with acid and venom. Alex barely managed to swallow before the elixir detonated in his chest. His ribs suddenly felt like they’d been pried apart, he heart fluttering wildly, every vein in his body boiling with acid. He gasped once, then his vision inverted, darkness swallowing the world outside.
When it cleared, he was standing in his Soulspace. The sky was a fractured void of midnight stars and roiling ash, cleft with cracks of deep blue light like a firmament dome. The shattered remains of his Mage Core hovered where they always had, half-crushed, shards orbiting the empty hollow in his soul like broken glass around a dying flame.
And above them floated the Wyrm-Heart.
The organ was pulsing with veins of purple-black light, beating in a slow, oppressive rhythm that shook the ground of his Soulspace with each thud. It had always been there idly before, a constant internal clock ticking to its own beat. But now it was awake, now it was angry.
The caustic brew had made its way through his body and into his aether channels, rushing quickly through the aperture of his gate, and into his soulspace as well. The moment the elixir’s energy flooded in, the Wyrm-Heart reacted.
A roar shook the airless void, not from its mouth—it didn't have one of those—but a booming tremor came from its essence, a deep draconic bellow that made the shards of his shattered core tremble. The heart pulsed, expelling a flood of draconic aether so potent Alex staggered under its pressure. Aether in the shape of fire and shadow, wings and fangs, filled the Soulspace like a rising storm.
The concoction answered in kind, transforming into a crimson draconic figure with wings, fangs, and a long barbed tail.
The wyvern blood ignited first, venomous green flames spearing upward in violent tendrils along the crimson manifestation of the elixir. The Basilisk essence twisted around it next, black smoke coiling like miniature serpents around it’s body, their eyes glinting emerald from within the haze. The wolf-drake marrow and basilisk venom fused, a tide of poisonous vitality trying to dig roots into the foundation of his soulspace, to claim him.
The Wyrm-Heart roared again and then struck. Its energy lashed out in the form of spectral claws, tearing at the intruding serpents. Poison exploded across the battlefield, eating into the ground, searing his mind. Alex cried out, clutching his head. The battefield of these two powers were still very dangerous to Alex, as they were fighting here, inside his soul. Every clash scorched his spirit and mind, cracking pieces of his psyche that he would need to rebuild later, and tore at his sanity.
Endure it... endure. He said to himself.
He forced his focus inward, not trying to stop the battle between the draconic apparitions, he couldn’t do that, but guiding the clash instead. When the draconic storm of his wyrm-heart lunged, he angled it, pushed its fury toward the venomous tide that threatened to consume his essence. When the poison surged, he redirected it into the cracks of his broken Mage Core, letting it attack the now useless fragments of his core instead of rotting his mind.
Every motion of the battle was agony. Inside his soulspace, his mind shook and cracked. Outside, his flesh blistered and healed, burned and froze, his blood turning to fire before solidifying like stone and back into liquid again. He coughed, and in the Soulspace black ichor spattered the ground, the droplets sizzling holes through the voidscape.
Obby was faint, like a whisper carried on broken static of an ancient radio. “True Dragon essence… clashing with constructed draconic elixir essence. Your health is borderline critical, but manageable. Do not falter, meatboy. If you give way, either of these manifestations, or both, will consume you.”
“I know!” Alex shouted into the void, his words coming out half-feral. His body arched under the strain, veins glowing with purple-black light flashed through with green spread over his skin. His Soulspace quaked as the Wyrm-heart pulsed harder, louder, its rhythm quickening into a deep war-drum.
It was a clash of home field defense versus invasion. Dragon against dragon, and his soul was being treated as the battlefield. But he wasn’t helpless.
He snarled, forcing his will through the chaos, hands outstretched as he seized both torrents of energy. They burned him in retaliation, flaying every inch of his being, but he pulled, dragging, grinding them against one another, until their roars mingled into a single violent roar.
His Mage Core shards screamed as well as they absorbed the overflow, glowing with molten veins of draconic power, then radiating the energy back out since the fragments themselves couldn’t contain the energy, but gave Alex enough time to wrestle a bit of control. The Wyrm-heart throbbed, furious, but for the first time it faltered.
Alex bared his teeth in a bloody grin. “You’re not the only dragon here!” He yelled. And with a final, shattering impact, the two forces collided, the explosion lighting his Soulspace in a storm of fire, venom, fangs and wings.
Alex’s scream pierced into a sudden silence. His Soulspace trembled, fractured light from the broken Mage Core dancing in the storm and mixing with the illumination from the cracks high above, just as the last clash settled. For one long moment, he thought the Wyrm-heart would tear free from its roost, that the poison would melt through every marrow-deep vein and aether channel he had, and leave him as just a husk.
But then, he caught it.
With veins burning, he pushed both forces down into his aperture, and through his body once more. He corralled the energy into his bones, deeper, deeper, until his very marrow screamed. He didn’t let the venomous energy spill into his muscles or skin. No, he locked it inside the roots of himself, into the place no blade could reach, no spell could purge. His bones drank the storm, and in that terrible quiet, he grit his teeth and he endured.
The flood broke.
System text bled across his vision:
The words hung in his vision, and Alex could only laugh. The skill was good, it wasn’t an overwhelming shift like the Wyrm-Heart’s raw omniboost when he was near death, but it was another weapon in his arsenal, another layer to his power. Another way his weakness could become his strength.
And, damn, it felt good.
Alex staggered upright, swaying slightly on his feet, but managed to stay standing. His legs trembled, his shirt clung to his back, slick with sweat, but his mind was still whole, sharper than the storm he’d just survived. His Soulspace was scorched and cracked, but still remained. The muscle bound dragon-heart floating above his shattered core pulsed faintly with new venomous light before dimming back to its inert state.
“Alex!” Holly was the first to him, her hand gripping his arm, her eyes wide with concern. For all her bravado and her fiery smirks, there was real fear in her expression.
“I’m fine,” he rasped, smiling despite the burn in his throat. “Really. But… thanks. Kinda nice to know you were worried.”
Her lips parted like she might argue or scold him, but instead she looked away quickly, cheeks flushing a red-warm.
Then the others crowded in, Peter clapping him hard on the shoulder, Allie muttering something about insane risks, even Zach nodded in grudging approval. Congratulation, relief, pride, it all swirled together inside him, and he waved most of it off with a crooked grin. He wasn’t invincible, but right now? He felt close to it.
That was when the yelp came.
The sound was small, sharp, and came from behind them.
Everyone’s heads turned. A dozen yards away, Tom-Tom was on his knees, claws clutching his chest as if something inside was trying to tear free. His cooking pot helmet had fallen to the ground a couple feet away. The air around him warped, earth-aspected aether spiraling upward in swirling threads, the energy itself felt heavy and sturdy.
Alex’s eyes widened.
The visual he saw in his [Aether Sight], it was the same as Holly’s transformation, the same eruption of essence, the same violent shift as someone broke into Adept Tier. Except where hers had been airy, cutting-edged in wind, Tom-Tom’s was dense. The earth itself seemed to breathe with him. Pebbles rattled and lifted into the air. Roots tore loose from the soil, bowing toward the little kobold as if recognizing one of their own.
Tom-Tom gave another cry, a half-growl, half-plea as his aura thickened into a shell of ochre and stone-gray. His small body quivered under the surge of power that appeared to be trying to tear it apart.
“By the hells…” Selka muttered, her eyes wide. “The little guy, he’s forcing it through.”
Alex’s chest thudded. Tom-Tom had been working at absorbing and cultivating the basilisk core for days now, gnawing at it like a dog on bone. And now, finally, something had broken loose.
He clenched his fists in anticipation, stepping forward to get a good view of the lizardman. “He’s doing it. He really is, way to go Tom-Tom.” Alex smiled.
Tom-Tom screamed.