Time passed once more.

  Days turned to weeks, then months, and then an entire year.

  News from the frontlines trickled in slowly, often censored or so riddled with rumours that they were practically useless.

  House Elathion naturally received more accurate information on the conflict than the public — Kaldreach’s administration at least had the sense to keep the nobility updated on the war they were personally funding — but even then, details were sparse, and more often than not carried ill tidings.

  “Keep your heads cool and be rational,” Captain Lauren had said. “Trust in the Coalition’s strength. There’s nothing we can do to help.”

  It did little to reassure them. The expedition’s strength was undeniable, and they were making headway in securing a proper navy and shipyards within the west. However, with the pirates firmly supporting the Duskcrowns, the foe now held several home-field advantages, including experienced brigands well-familiar with navigating the harsh local seas and a logistical edge in replenishing both supplies and men.

  For Eri, whose anxiety over the expedition’s fate was slowly but steadily growing, the lack of progress on the Coalition’s end was a sign of bad things to come.

  He took to tinkering in the lab most days now, trading the hours of his rigorous martial training for the sciences of flesh, metal, and pyrotechnics. In truth, there was little he could do to improve his personal combat strength anymore.

  His physical Skills — Dagger, Unarmed, Athletics, etc — were all progressing at a snail's pace, stuck within the ‘Expert’ Proficiency tier for the longest time. Whatever trick it was that he needed to boost his Skill growth beyond minor single-digit percentages each month, he hadn’t found it yet.

  Frustrated, he sought to improve the quality and variety of his tools of war instead. Explosives and equipment served as fantastic force multipliers — not just for himself, but for his allies as well. It was only logical that he invested his studies in them.

  “I see you have moved on from playing with flesh and chemicals. Do you find more fun tinkering with toys now?”

  Eri paused in his work, looking up from the laboratory workbench to see one of the elven twins — Deyara — leaning lazily against the doorway.

  “Something like that,” Eri answered warily. He set aside his welding tools. “I thought I should spend less time studying the half-blood corpses for now. Too much of the same dulls my mind.”

  “Mmh. Where’s the annoying beast who always lingers in the lab?”

  “The what?” Eri frowned. “Do you mean Kalisa? She’s in the markets today.”

  “Oh, good. I hate her wretched stench,” Deyara walked into the lab, giving the room a cursory glance. “Putrid pest, I swear… I thought the likes of her died out even before I went into the Gestalt…”

  The sheer visceral in her words took Eri back, though Deyara’s tone was more bored than insulting.

  “I didn’t think you were so prejudiced against the Beastfolks,” Eri accused.

  “Oh, I have nothing against the Newborn Races. It’s the Calamity Fox I have a problem with. That voracious creature and her curseborn litter were a bane to the Living even back when I still had a proper Elven Avatar to my name.”

  Eri stared at her, utterly confused. After a few seconds, he spoke with complete honesty: “I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, you senile old elf.”

  “Better that you don’t know, you disrespectful boy. Some secrets are more fun when they are revealed later,” Deyara chuckled fondly. “I wonder if the Lord of this House knew of her nature when he invited her into his retinue. Or perhaps the man simply has an unfortunate tendency to unknowingly open his doors to ancient monsters like us.”

  “If you are going to keep being cryptic, I’d rather you do it outside,” Eri grumbled. “I’m busy. Besides, I thought you didn’t like being down here, because… you know…”

  “Because I was cut up, experimented on, and invasively molested under the surgeon's table before?” Deyara said casually. Eri winced. “That’s just an excuse I made up when the stupid Fox won’t stop bothering me to help out.”

  “Wait, so you and Peythra lied about your trauma just to get out of work?!”

  “Not for Peythra. For her, the trauma is real. She was always the more sensitive half of our souls. Besides, you make it sound like my sister has been lazing in the castle all day. She works hard, you know, playing music and performing her healing arts in Kaldreach’s poorer districts. Doesn’t pay well, but it brings your little House a flood of goodwill and reputation, which I’d argue is more beneficial to its recovery than gold right now.”

  Eri snorted. “Not you, though. I know for a fact that all you do is eat my food and sleep in.”

  “My presence alone in this castle is payment enough,” Deyara laughed. “Don’t act like it isn’t.”

  Eri sighed. Deyara… wasn’t wrong. Having the exotic Ruby-Core twins staying in House Elathion was a significant boost to its reputation among the noble families, and the fact that they needed nothing more than room and board to stay under House Elathion’s employ was a godsend. Ruby-Core Chosens generally demanded far more in payment to stay hired.

  He went back to his workbench, tinkering with the puzzle that had confounded him for the past months.

  “Any progress?” Deyara asked, leaning over. A frown took over her usual laidback expression — the tiniest sign of her discomfort.

  Upon the table were the dismantled pieces of the dwarven slave collars that once imprisoned her mind.

  “Not really. I always knew dwarven technology was advanced, but this is ridiculous. It’s leagues ahead of anything the arcane technology of today could replicate,” Eri complained. “I doubt even the dwarven enclaves in Kaldreach could make sense of how it functions.”

  “The Under Empire had machines and factories that you would not believe. Their architectural wonders at the height of their power would make the likes of Kaldreach a joke,” Deyara commented. “Even though the Under Empire fell thousands of years ago, its creations were so durable that they lasted to the modern age. These slave collars are rare now, but back at the height of their power, the Dwarves would employ millions of these.”

  “Their manufacturing capabilities must have been insanely complex to mass-produce such artefacts,” Eri sighed. “It’s a shame they are almost all gone.”

  “Mhm. A few more centuries, and I doubt you'll see any more of those little grudgebearers. Their rugged constitution allowed them to last longer than the other Elderkin races, but those of the old blood are doomed to die at the Third Demon King’s curse eventually. It’s inevitable.”

  The Third Demon King — Baelkarion, the Loving One. Eri’s predecessor, and undoubtedly the most hated Demon King of the four currently in history. Though the Third’s reign lasted a mere ten years — an eyeblink compared to the centuries the other Demon Kings ruled — they did more damage to the Living than any other calamity had in the entirety of the five-thousand-year war.

  Their curse — the White Hunger Plague — drove every Elderkin race to extinction. No amount of ancient magic and mythical spellcraft could save any of them. Millions of legendary creatures, their lifespan stretching centuries or even millennia…

  All of them had their flesh and blood reduced to literal pillars of salt by the White Hunger Plague. Within the span of a decade, the grand empires and kingdoms of the twelve Immortal Elderkin species, said to have existed since the very creation of Thalmyra, had been destroyed.

  The Newborn Races were left to pick up the pieces.

  “But you’re here now. The White Hunger Plague still lingers heavily in Thalmyra’s atmosphere, but you are not dead,” Eri pointed out.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Curious, is it not? The virus supposedly only hunts and attacks Elderkins, yet my body remains whole. I suppose the vessel of a Newborn Race comes with its benefits, even a feeble one like a Ruby-Core Chosen. How I long to return to the height of my power, when my soul commanded the Elven flesh-titans of war…”

  Eri snorted. “Only you would call a Ruby-Core body feeble.”

  The boy ignored the elf for a moment and returned to his work. The dwarven slave collar eluded his complete understanding, even with the help of his new Perk. Eri brought up the UI and re-read its description.

  /-/

  Perk: Dwarven Enigma Breaker (Rank 1)

  Rank 1: The Uncrackable, Now Cracked

  Effects: When tinkering with dwarven technology or dwarven biology, any skills tangentially related to the task at hand (Crafting, Lockpicking, Alchemy, Medicine, etc) gain a temporary Proficiency upgrade of three tiers, up to a maximum of ‘Mythic’ proficiency (Sixth Tier). Any dwarven item dismantled yields additional material. Any dwarven-specific consumable crafted gains enhanced effectiveness.

  “I’m telling ya, Gjomfringdale, we’re doomed! There ain’t no way in hell anyone is EVER going to crack the code in ten thousand years! The Dwarven Enigma is foolproof! Even the ancestor gods barely understand how it works anymore! If anyone can do it, I’ll shave my damn beard off!”

  /-/

  His Silver Core had given him an extra perk slot, so he had slotted it in immediately. The benefits were enormous; barely anyone understood how dwarven tech worked, even the dwarves themselves, or at least those of the present era.

  The new age was hardly swimming in arcanotech for Eri to tinker with, but there was a chance that, should he ever face the Duskcrowns again, he might end up facing ancient technology once more.

  If you were presented with the likes of the slave collars again, he wanted to be ready to rid the world of them, once and for all.

  ~~~

  Days later…

  “Your mind wanders, my Lord.”

  The deep, growling voice of an inhuman beast interrupted Eri’s pondering.

  “Hm? Sorry, I was drifting off,” Eri yawned. “The fire is nice, especially in this cold.”

  Out in the distant snowfields of Kaldreach, under a clear starry night, a young boy sat next to a colossal mountain of demonic muscles and scales. A giant bonfire was lit in front of them, above which sat an enormous chunk of spiced meat roasting above the flames on a spit.

  It was an utterly bizarre sight, but one that had occurred weekly ever since Eri survived the ordeal at the port a full year prior.

  Marquise Marchosias, mighty demon noble of Hell, was currently prone against the snow, savouring the sensation of the cold against their leathery wings and serpentine torso. Its tail wagged slightly as its eager eyes stared almost lovingly at the spinning roast that Eri was cooking.

  “Do not burn the meat, my Lord. It is beneath you not to strive for anything less than perfection.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you gluttonous beast… I swear, you are becoming fat under my care. I spoil you too much.”

  “That is not true. The Matriarch spoils me more. She always brings me on the best walks. We would fly to the far northern reaches, and I would get to sate my hunger for both flesh and violence upon the unruly denizens of the Eye. The bond between us was never stronger.”

  “Elen would argue otherwise. I think she was trying to get you killed. She never forgave you for licking and slobbering her in spit each time you two met.”

  “I thought such a greeting was a customary show of affection from a domesticated beast to their master… Alas, the Matriarch did not appreciate it, seeing as she cut my tongue off…”

  “Didn’t stop you from doing it again once you grew it back.”

  “I had assumed, perhaps too optimistically, that repeated exposure to the act might endear her to it… Speaking of whom, has she truly not returned to your side yet?”

  Eri sighed. “No.”

  “My Lord misses her. He should visit. It would be a simple matter for me to fly you to her.”

  “I don’t think she would appreciate a 500-ton dragon landing atop her orphanage… Alright, the meat is done. Have at it. I made it special for you this time.”

  “Hm! I had assumed from the delectable smell. Might I inquire what the occasion is?”

  Eri grimaced. “It’s not really to celebrate. It’s more of a bribe.”

  “Ah, I see. My Lord has a difficult demand to make of me,” Marchosias chuckled. “A bribe is not needed, my Lord. I am your humble servant. Ask of whatever service you wish of me, and I shall comply with utmost fervour.”

  “You might as well enjoy the meat, anyway. I can explain as you eat.”

  Eri commanded his inventory pouch to deposit a giant map onto the snowfield as the demon noble happily munched on their roast. The map detailed the Thalmyra continent’s Northeast. “You are aware of the ongoing conflict occurring between us humans?”

  “A War of Chosens against Chosens. Wasteful behaviour, but a necessary conflict from what I understand. Your allies are currently waging war upon the seas to the West, where the Second Demon King once reigned.”

  Eri nodded. “The frontlines are far and chaotic, and news of it trickles in rumours and hearsay, but it’s clear the odds are not favourable to my side. Here, take a look at these symbols… See the insignias? These belong to the Coalition — my allies — and these belong to the Duskcrowns and their pirates. I have laid out estimated force projections of both sides on the map, as well as the current location of strongholds, shipyards, and key islands on the Slaver Isles, based on whatever scraps of information I can gather.”

  Marchosias studied the map carefully as they chewed, their gaze patient and intelligent. “The latter group appear to far outnumber your allies, my Lord. My experience with warfare is limited, but even I can see that the situation on the map does not favour you. The enemy has secured key ports and supply lanes. Their defensive position is superior. Judging by this map, I would wager your allies not only struggle to make any headway in their offensives, but they are unable to effectively defend what little footholds they have acquired.”

  As expected of a demon noble. Marchosias understood the situation perfectly with a single glance.

  “I have seen your might in person when Elen and I took you on monster hunts to the North. The situation in the western seas vastly differs from the demonic steppes, but I have no doubt your strength would prove sufficient against the likes of naval warships,” Eri said. “Though they outnumber you greatly, you hold the advantage of the air and the sea. You can strike unseen and then retreat afterwards. The pirates are trained to fight mindless demons who swarm them without thought. They will not fare well against an intelligent and powerful beast of your standing.”

  The naval artillery and the Chosen soldiers present within a combined fleet would undoubtedly still pose a threat. However, with the aquatic pseudo-dragon’s strategic cleverness and its ability to dive deep underwater or even flee through flight, it could harass and hunt targets of its choosing, picking off warships one by one. At the same time, the pirates could do nothing each time the demon noble retreated to the sea depths or sky heights if Marchosias found itself overwhelmed by the enemy's superior numbers.

  Moreover, as an Archon, Marchosias’s strength and intelligence were exceptional even compared to Ruby-Core Chosens. Eri was confident in the demon noble’s capabilities to adapt as the complex situation develops.

  “To hunt freely against mighty warships upon the vast oceans and skies? It sounds positively delightful, my Lord! When shall we leave?”

  Eri was silent.

  Marchosias hummed in realisation. “Ah… Now I see why you prepared a ‘bribe’. You are sending me on a mission that will take me far from your company.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t leave here. Not yet, and hopefully, with your secret aid to the Coalition, I won’t have to. The Slaver Isles are too dangerous for me to venture alone. My Silver Core is still badly strained, even after all these years. It might be another half-decade before I can safely ascend to Gold.”

  It typically took Bronze Cores five to eight years before they ascended to Silver, and Silver Cores eight to twelve years before they ascended to Gold. This period between ascension was not simply a limitation of power or experience, but rather an essential interlude for the newly empowered Cores to safely acclimatise to the sudden improvements to their strength and mana capacity.

  The cumulative period of acclimatisation for a Bronze Core Chosen before reaching Gold was thus typically between thirteen and twenty years.

  Eri got his Bronze Core less than two years ago.

  He already pushed himself too far when he immediately ascended to Silver less than a month in after gaining his Bronze Core. Even now, he suffered the consequences of that decision, with his Silver Core frequently fluctuating in power.

  The incident where he accidentally headbutted Deyara with his uncontrolled speed in their first fight was a prime example. Since then, multiple similar cases have occurred over the years, and it took him considerable effort to coax his Core to even partial effectiveness in combat.

  If he were to try ascending to Gold now… Becoming crippled would be the least of his concerns. He might suffer an instantaneous death from a ruptured Core.

  “I will prepare stamina capsules and place them between your teeth, easy enough for you to wedge out with your tongue,” Eri explained. “Once you are ready, you may take flight and head for the western front. So long as you travel by night and consume the stamina capsules each hour, you should be able to arrive at the West undetected and within a single day’s flight.”

  “Hmm… And how long would this ‘mission’ take me from you, my Lord?”

  Eri shuffled uncomfortably. “Not indefinitely, certainly. But… A few years, probably. Just to clarify, this isn’t an order. You don’t have to—”

  “Do not worry, my Lord. I am not so fragile,” Marchosias chuckled. “Do not be mistaken. I prefer to stay by your side, and I will greatly miss your company and your cooking. But I am fully capable of acting independently. Do not fear for me, my Lord. I shall not let you down.”

  Eri exhaled. “Thank you. I’m sorry for forcing this on you.”

  “Do not be. This shall be a new experience. I look forward to it.”

  They continued simple conversations for the rest of the night. The following week, Marchosias would set off for the West, flying high under the cover of the night sky. Eri would not see them again for years.

  And when they do, it would be under far less favourable circumstances.