Dragonheart Core

Already the ruckus from my core had died to a less distracting level, easier to parse and peel through as I dove beneath the Hungering Reefs, letting the mana wash over me as the smoke filled my visions. The heat, the dry, crackling air; the nightmare I'd made that had served as the last bulwark of my defense.

The Scorchplains hadn't returned to normal—because there wasn't really a normal, not yet. It was still so new, its creatures only just figuring out their positions in the food chains, and then they had slammed themselves together into a truce and were now stuck figuring out what to do next.

The herd of bounding deer, leaderless and injured, limped around Shoth's corpse with their ears pricked and tails up. At their hooves, scorch hounds padded around, inspecting each other and tugging off sections of houndspore with their teeth to free up the injuries underneath. The kobold walked between them, slumped with exhaustion and missing a patch of scales over his chest, but still helping out his pack. At the fringes, spined lizards crept in for bites of flesh, dodging around paws and bristling whenever seen.

And through them all, light burned.

Their first invader; the death of a Gold. Something above and beyond what they'd ever encountered, even with Seros occasionally coming down here to check on me and the scorch hounds previous life in the Skylands. No, this was more. No, this was everything.

I went for the smallest first, the spined lizards; four of them were ready to evolve, already curled up beneath outcrops of basalt as their eyes closed.

Congratulations! Your creature, a Spined Lizard, is undergoing evolution!

Please select your desired path.

Coalback Lizard (Uncommon): In a land of smoke and fire, this creature adapts to match. From spines grow veins of coal, heavy and protective, as well as protective; due to the coal growing over its scales, it can catch alight without harming the creature.

Bristled Iguana (Common): Speed has not proven itself viable. Instead, this creature grows large and dangerous, covered in spikes to punish any who get too close—particularly those who are chosen to fill its ravenous stomach.

Seekspine Lizard (Rare): It has watched and learned from the master. Its spines are no longer guided by aim; instead, its mana fires them directly to its target, regardless of difficulty.

It was truly fascinating to see where their evolutions came from—some as a natural progression, guided by the land or learned from brethren who had died too early. And some from their kills, stealing Shoth's aim for their own.

Hopefully not his betrayal. I didn't need backstabbing lizards.

I dithered over it for a second, weighing all the choices—but my Scorchplains were already drowned in coal and speed had very much proven itself viable in the darkness, so my gaze drifted down to the seekspine lizard. An aim from the Gold himself; a way to protect themselves and stick to safer distances.

Four spined lizards faded under a silver glow, soon to be seekspine lizards.

And then, straight up—the bounding deer, a fractured herd still skittish with leftover adrenaline, pranced and paced about in the darkness. I purred soothing mana into their minds, softening their fear, letting me guide them away from the center and to a more sheltered side of the Scorchplains, preparing for their long sleep. The herd followed my lead, light sparking up from their hooves.

They must have been waiting on the very edge of evolution—which made sense, really. Unevolved and dumped right into my lowest floor, and now helping to take down a Gold; little wonder there were some two dozen waiting to evolve, almost the entire rest of the herd left. A bounty of options.

I waited impatiently until they were all settled, ears perked and heads flat, before diving into the messages.

Congratulations! Your creature, a Bounding Deer, is undergoing evolution!

Please select your desired path.

Bounding Moose (Uncommon): Size and strength rise higher. It towers above its previous form, poised to trample over any that could threaten its peaceful life.

Cinderhoof Deer (Uncommon): Running is no longer enough. Its hooves spark embers as it runs, and its fireproof fur will carry the flames wherever it goes. Any predators seeking a large meal will find themselves caught in the blaze should they threaten this herd.

Ahlk (Rare): The life of prey is a vicious cycle heading to death—this creature throws off the yoke and becomes a predator. Armed with fangs and sharpened antlers, it stalks through deep forests in search of anything to take down.

That was lovely. Three proper evolutions, all different, all powerful, all raring and begging to be chosen.

The cinderhoof deer was as deliberate a choice to the Scorchplains as I could imagine; in a land of darkness, eyes went to light, and if the only thing invaders could track was burning wakes of fleeing deer and impossible targets they would get more lost than even the Jungle Labyrinth.

The ahlk fascinated me by nature—why take prey and turn them into predators, when it seemed they were so far from the proper body and form?—and given how handily they'd kept Shoth busy while the scorch hounds worked, I could see it working well. But I already had hunting beasts on this floor, with a pack at their side; I didn't know if I needed another, particularly without a deep forest to give them.

But the bounding moose—all around my floor, scorch hounds were lit up in the glow of poised evolution, something to strengthen them beyond. They had survived for a good while on the food I'd provided them down here, but as the pack grew larger and more powerful, they would need greater prey.

In the competition of a deer versus a moose, one would provide the meat for a few; and the other would feed the entire pack.

Well. I'd done it with the roughwater sharks—I was willing to do it again.

Of the two dozen waiting, I took eight females and eight males to become cinderhoof deer, the most lithe and quick of the bunch; the remaining eight became bounding moose, with two already selected to head off to the Haven to make sure I could always keep up on proper food.

More supplies, more force for my halls. Perhaps I could train them to run in specific patterns, throw up walls of fire to keep invaders from merely running through.

And still another group came to me—the last of my evolutions here, even more numerous.

Much like the bounding deer, nearly the entire pack of scorch hounds was ready to evolve; they had all tested themselves against Shoth, and in the Skylands before this. I guided them to their den, tugging the kobold alongside, until they all curled up in slumbering piles of limbs and fur and horns; their thoughts ran slow but ember-hot, crackling with anticipation.

Congratulations! Your creature, a Scorch Hound, is undergoing evolution!

Please select your desired path.

Hellhound (Rare): A beast of fire and fury. This creature awakens a hunger for destruction, charging through the surroundings for anything to rip apart and shred. It knows no limits nor stopping point.

Blazebane Wolf (Uncommon): It hunts alongside its brethren, using its blazing bite and smoky breath to choke out all challengers, taking great pride in protecting its pack and providing for them.

Ash Hound (Rare): It has drowned in smoke and been born anew—enemy strikes will only break it down to coalesce later, a blend between living and dead. It may not have strength, but it will outlast all those who come against it.

Now that was a lovely selection.

Hellhound called to me, sung to me, my sea-drake spirit of vengeance and vitriol—but no. Not anymore. The scorch hounds functioned best as a pack, protecting each other as they took down prey as one; ceaseless reapers who only sought to destroy wasn't what I needed. On a higher floor, maybe, where invaders were more abundant; but not here.

The agony of passing up pure power. It hurt more than I wanted to say.

Ash hound, in a similar vein, was another deeply tempting choice—not immortality, not for the mortal creatures of Aiqith, but a body formed and shaped of the refuse of fire seemed a mighty wonderful choice.

But I had found, in my time as a core, that when a schema's description said outright they didn't have strength, it wasn't lying. Maybe it served as an in-between schema, building up its power for an ever-remaking evolution that had both power and regeneration, but I couldn't afford to wait for a distant sparkling future. I needed power now.

And the blazebane wolf spoke to that. Still pack-based, still fire-attuned, with a boost to strength that didn't make them solitary destroyers or vaporeous ghosts.

Maybe one day I would pick either option—but for now, I let the entire pack fade away into golden-yellow light, wolves soon to howl at the darkened sky.

But not all of them.

Because the eldest scorch hound, the one that had been dogged by the kobold for so long and only just now started to work with him, had a different message; different evolutions. More potential.

Congratulations! Your creature, a Scorch Hound, is undergoing evolution!

Please select your desired path.

Blazebane Wolf (Uncommon): It hunts alongside its brethren, using its blazing bite and smoky breath to choke out all challengers, taking great pride in protecting its pack and providing for them.

Spore Hound (Rare): A symbiosis taken to its peak. Houndspore grows over it in an ever-changing armour that can be spread to other members of its pack, growing down to strengthen its claws.

Orthrus (Rare): Its mind has grown beyond its form; by splitting into two heads, it is able to charge forward with an intelligence past its peers. It sees the world around as something to understand and conquer, teaming up with all manner of species to be unstoppable.

I hesitated.

Blazebane would slot her in with her pack, keep her on their same page, and I couldn't be assured if I picked anything else they would be as welcoming—but oh, those other options. The spore hound, a perfect mirror to the houndspore, what had protected her against Shoth and kept me free, but–

Orthrus.

She was dreadfully intelligent, at least when compared to her brethren; working with the kobold had granted her a sharper understanding of the world around her, how it worked, how she worked in it. And unlike the two-headed bear of ages past, this wasn't two souls grafted onto one; just herself, doubled over. She could use that to stay with her pack, to keep striving for new obstacles with help on all sides, and devastate in control.

Well. I did have one thing to check before I chose for her.

Because there, walking through the pack, scales scattered in his wake and a limp heavy over his left leg, was the kobold who had forsaken his tribe and traveled down to the fire den. He had been working with her, failing for longer than he'd been succeeding, never giving up even as she snapped and snarled at him. And now she had worked alongside him, taught him to hunt as she did, allowed him into their den; if there was a chance their evolutions would be tied, I wanted to give it to them.

Congratulations! Your creature, a Kobold, is undergoing evolution!

Please select your desired path.

Kobold Hunter (Rare): In tune with beasts and birds, this creature stalks through the undergrowth with raised claws and keen eyes. Either solitary or serving a greater tribe, they strike from the shadows and drag home corpses large enough to feed dozens.

Kobold Warrior (Rare): In a world of dangers, one rises to match. This creature fights with a brawn well beyond what its body should hold, ending battles with the sheer strength of its will and an unwillingness to concede.

Kobold Tamer (Rare): Its tribe is no longer its loyalty; instead, it thrives in the wilderness, teaming up with beasts of all types to hunt and fight alongside them, providing intelligence and earning a family in return.

Not even an option for lizardfolk—it seemed he was, disgustingly, deplorably, sticking to his fire-drake roots. What a genuinely terrible decision.

But of the three, there was only one to pick. He was a warrior, and a hunter, but it was him that had abandoned his tribe to join a pack, and only the kobold tamer showed and built off that. A guide for those that would give him family; a general for those that would fight by his side.

And I could think of no better companion than a two-headed hound.

He would bring intelligence; and she would bring it to match. A proper pair, quick enough to crush all others, but instead using that combined power to help the pack.

For him, I selected kobold tamer; for her, I selected orthrus.

They felt the evolution hit at the same time. I watched with a burgeoning glee as they immediately loped further back to the den, past other scorch hounds already slumbering under light, and curled up in some dark corner for protection—teamwork again. Trust, that they would be safer together rather than apart.

They'd do wonderful things, I just knew it.

In the wake of that, the Scorchplains hummed with energy; dozens of evolutions waiting for time to crawl on, to elevate them past new heights. My core softened down to a whisper, letting my thoughts flow freely once more—preparation for the next steps. Still the webweaver high above, and a long, long talk with Rhoborh, but I'd worry about that after.

Because there was one more evolution to choose.

This message was the largest, stretching the edges of my core with golden runes; it was tucked in the back of the Scorchplains, out of direct line of sight, which was good because now it glowed, bright as a volcanic vent. The very air hummed around it.

Because the final evolution was my own.

Congratulations!

You have reached the threshold for evolution. As a reward, the gods have deigned themselves to offer you gifts, if you believe you are worthy to accept them.

You may choose an Otherworld schema and either an expansion to your mana pool or regeneration.

I dug past the evolution message, peering at the center of my marbled core. The smaller runes, those thrumming with excess power.

Dragonheart Core

Mana: 75 / 75

Mana Regeneration: +0.8 per hour

Patrons: Rhoborh, God of Symbiosis; Mayalle, Goddess of Whirlpools; Nuvja, Goddess of Shadows, Khasvar, God of Lightning; Nenaigch, Goddess of Weaving; Abarossa, Goddess of Sharks

Titles: Resurrector, Welcomer

Well, those full seventy-five points hurt, considering I knew damn well that twelve deaths had been worth more. And that might have been an indicator for which option I should choose, to build up my storage to sculpt larger creations, it was still hardly a question. While seventy-five was a drop in the ocean as my creatures continued to evolve and their mana costs exploded, my Haven and defenses meant I didn't want to rely on needing to create them from scratch. If I only made base creatures, their mana costs stayed small.

But mana regeneration meant more Names.

I selected that.

The Otherworld—deep and cool, like an ocean current from a far-off land—rushed through me, crashing into my core like a hurricane. An outpouring of new power, fresh, drowning me; awakening me. Strengthening me.

Dragonheart Core

Mana: 75 / 75

Mana Regeneration: +2.4 per hour

Patrons: Rhoborh, God of Symbiosis; Mayalle, Goddess of Whirlpools; Nuvja, Goddess of Shadows, Khasvar, God of Lightning; Nenaigch, Goddess of Weaving; Abarossa, Goddess of Sharks

Titles: Resurrector, Welcomer

Oh, that was lovely—more than lovely, really, considering how much I could do with it. I had enough for one, maybe two Names—and I would take my time with them, think them over, choose not just those who deserved it but those who would use it. My creatures needed more; my floors needed leaders beyond me, someone whose commands didn't come smothered in raid-frenzy. To help us all survive.

And speaking of. I looked back at the other message.

Please select an Otherworld schema.

Corpsefarmer (Rare): The split path of chosen deliberation; alchemists seek out this creature for its collecting nature, taking useful and rare trophies from any corpses around it. Whenever there is an alchemic breakthrough, it is lingering on the edges.

Galactic Hoverling (Rare): Insectoid brilliance spread wide; it constantly grows and sheds wings, having no less than six pairs at any given time. It uses them for distraction, flight, and focusing its mana, while those in its wake use its shed wings for decoration, building materials, and alchemic properties.

Terrorbird (Rare): A beast only found in the deep forests, it stalks through the underbrush with enormous talons and jagged beak. Their flocks control sprawling territories, fearing nothing and crushing all those in its path.

Restorative Aloe (Rare): The best symbiotic relationship is one too useful to threaten. This plant gathers healing mana in its sap to help all those who consume it, guaranteeing that all those who live nearby will protect it.

Myconid (Rare): For the thin line between life and death, this creature treads it. Amassed of fungal flesh and mycelium thoughts, it shambles about to build more of itself, creating a hivemind that spreads as far as it can go.

Well. Now it was all new options—it seemed whoever controlled my power no longer was forcing me into picking something, twisting my claw so that I would dance to their wishes. Lovely.

…I had been interested in the lesser harpies they'd offered last time, though. They would fit particularly well in with my eighth floor.

But the replacements were all fascinating. The corpsefarmer—which showed me a vaguely quadrupedal body covered in coarse fur and wicked claws when I prodded at the schema—wasn't an alchemist on its own, which made an unfortunate amount of sense that I wouldn't just be given that, but was a critical element to their development, supplying them with all the parts they could ever need. And in a dungeon, if they were fast and clever, they could have a bounty of choices to take from; a true feast laid out for the picking.

And the galactic hoverling—providing beauty and materials at the same time, all with a kaleidoscope of beautiful colours that were somehow mana focusing. Not dangerous on their own, at least it seemed like, but an overall boon to my halls.

In direct comparison, the terrorbird sounded like a lovely little nightmare; stalking predators of talons and beaks. Similar to my jaguar, but with a flock at its side; and for a towering heart tree home of my eighth floor, that sounded like a brilliant match. Something to truly be feared.

The restorative aloe almost made me choose it immediately—if Veresai had actively geased a human just to have a healer, then my dungeon would serve itself incredibly well to have more. Little doubt it was extremely mana-intensive, but its description served it well; everyone in my halls would protect it with their life, cultivating it all across the floors so that they would be healed as needed.

And the myconids—I remembered, with an odd certainty, back to the fungal-folk option I'd gotten from my very first evolution. Maybe this was the more sapient conclusion of that, since it certainly seemed better with its hivemind and ability to… create more. That sounded concerning. And wonderful.

Hells. That was an impossible decision to make.

But one I would have to make.