The Dragon Heir (A Monster Evolution LitRPG)

The hues were having a bit of a dance. Reds murmuring sweet nothings as they twirled with the greens, while yellows bounced about like overly enthusiastic crickets. It was all a grand, misty wave of colour draping itself all around me, painting this world of mine in every shade under the sun.

The bone tree, though, it had scarpered. Gone, poof, like it had never been there. Maybe Barn had waved his bony tail and dismissed it. Who knows? Time was a bit wibbly-wobbly again, and I’d lost track.

The ground, however, wasn't shy about leaving clues. All around, splattered with red ichor, and a hodgepodge of ratty monster remains. Bits and bobs of anatomy strewn about. A particularly grotesque jigsaw puzzle.

A stray liver here, a couple of kidneys there, and was that half a spine? Couldn’t be bothered to check, frankly.

Then there were the marbles, dark as midnight and swirling with darkness. Monster cores, and quite a handsome collection of them too, scattered like confetti. The hues were doing their bit, lighting up everything in their usual cheery fashion.

Everything, that is, except the screen floating in front of me. Notifications, loads of them. Mostly level-ups, but a few other odds and ends caught my eye.

[Claw Swipe has reached Level 5.]

[Maximum Level Attained: Advancement Available]

[Crunch has reached Level 5.]

[Maximum Level Attained: Advancement Available]

 

[Level Cap Reached: Maximum Level Attained.]

[Evolution Process: Available and Ready for Initiation.]

Well, of course that was going to happen. I did just slay a horde of hapless monsters, didn’t I?

Hmm… it also made sense that my skills would level up after all that. I remembered using a claw swipe here and there, but Crunch? Odd. Maybe that was just subconscious instincts kicking in. Still, this proved my theory: using them against stronger monsters made for faster growth.

Perhaps I should have a chat with Barn, see if he could rustle up something a bit more challenging, perhaps a stage 4, for me to, umm, practice my skills on? It wasn’t the most savoury idea, but it might be worth a thought, depending on how much longer we had left together.

I summoned my stat screen.

Name: Jade
Level: 10
Species: Hungerborn Hatchling (Draconis) (II) (+)

Attributes:

• Strength: 15

• Durability: 32

• Intelligence: 40

• Will: 27

• Mana Points: 0/0

• Stamina Points: 29/29

Species Skills:

• Claw Swipe: Level 5 (I) (+) (Advancement Available)

• Tail Whip: Level 1 (I)

• Roar: Level 1 (I)

• Scale Harden: Level 2 (I)

• Stealth: Level 3 (I)

• Crunch: Level 5 (I) (+) (Advancement Available)

• Quick Dash: Level 2 (I)

Exclusive Skills:

• Transformation: Level 1 (I)

 

Mutations:

• Eyes - Focusing Lenses (II): +0

• Claws - Claw Flexibility (II): +0

• Scales - Colour Adaptation (II): +0

• Wings - Improved Membranes (II): +0

• Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +0

• Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir (II): +0

• Macro-Trophic Sac: +0

Resources:

• Skill Points: 11

• Morphogens: 186

 

Blimey, that was a whole heap of Morphogens—186 of them, to be precise. I didn’t mean to do the maths, but my brain tends to work faster than my better judgment. Quicker than usual, too—wait, was that thanks to the Intelligence boost? Never mind. The maths was clear: 31 rat monsters I’d gorged on.

Once again, I was standing on the precipice of evolution.

And yet… it didn’t spark any joy. Not in the slightest.

Unearned.

That word, that damned word, kept rattling around in my head. It was an echo that refused to fade. The worst part? I wasn’t even fighting it. Deep down, I knew it was true. I was nothing more than a hypocritical dragon, betraying every instinct about what a true hunt should be. Instead of chasing prey, I’d slaughtered and feasted on tied-up, helpless monsters. It left a sour taste, bitter as Emyth leaves, lingering in my mouth as I stared at my own stats.

Not that I owed anyone an explanation. Bad dragon, evil dragon? Sure, I could live with that. Whatever the draconic equivalent is. But if that’s what it took for me to carve mana veins into this body of mine, well, so be it.

Unearned, it whispered again.

It wasn’t just a word; it was more like… a feeling. This gnawing sense of emptiness beneath the surface. A kind of guilt, perhaps, or something more complex.

I knew I could justify it a thousand times over if I wanted, but no amount of reasoning seemed to fill that hollowness. Perhaps it was the dragon part of me, the primal, instinctual side that craved a proper challenge, a real hunt. It craved the chase, the game, the thrill of outwitting prey, even if the odds were lopsided.

And yet, the path I had chosen, it was a slave to efficiency over honor, power over pride. What a joke.

But that could wait. There were more pressing matters to deal with. I took a glance around at the tunnel. The rubble, now stained with rat innards and blood. Bits of fur and bone were scattered about, remnants of my hunger-fueled rampage.

Swallowing hard, I glanced up at Barn. “Found the entrance to the dungeon yet?”

Barn, ever the cheerful horror serpent, clacked his bony jaw three times in his usual happy fashion, though this time, he hesitated before giving another single, uncertain clack. Huh. He’d found it, but what was with the pause?

“Something wrong?” I asked, suspicion creeping in.

He gave me a solemn nod. Great.

“Elaborate.”

The sound of bones shifting filled the air as Barn responded. “Fort. Guarded. Elves.”

Elves? That made my brow furrow. Hold on a minute—before I even got to that can of worms... “Barn, how far are we from this dungeon entrance?”

The monsters in this part of the dungeon weren’t exactly fearsome, aside from the occasional tough customer, like those creepers. So I figured we were still in the upper levels.

Barn’s answer—three clacks—confirmed it. Upper levels, just as I thought. But something else had been niggling at the back of my mind ever since I was dragged into this mess.

This group of cultists? Absolutely rolling in it. Filthy rich, I mean. There were so many of them, all of them decked out in expensive enchanted robes, throwing around magic-tools like it was nothing. And then there were the pillars. Orichalcum—pure orichalcum—holding up their fancy hideout. The enchantments, the layers upon layers of them, all intricate and flawless. And their power levels? Of course. From that red-core mage to the yellow-core warriors, these guys weren’t messing about.

Even with all my shiny new upgrades, I’d be flattened like a pancake if I tried to take any of them on. A single one of them would do me in, and they had a veritable army milling about down here. And the portals! Good grief, the portals! The things were so vast and fancy, I knew they weren’t just for carting the likes of me around. Oh no, I just knew these lot were up to something far bigger in my homeland in Randall. The way those masked warriors’ head honcho sneered at the Inquisitors from Alcoa, calling them ‘dogs’—it reeked of history.

But that didn’t explain everything, oh no. Not until Barn muttered a single word—a word that made the last piece of the puzzle click into place. Elves.

Bloody hell, no way.

If this were true, I was smack dab in a mess involving the Beastlands in the west of the continent of Nadreth, the very place where beast-kin like myself call home. And there, right in the middle, was the elven kingdom of Lethrindel. The human empire of Aurelia was further to the east. Very far from here.

Of course, I knew all of this, what with being a bit of a history boffin myself. The untamed wilderness of Vraal'Kor—also affectionately dubbed The Beastlands—had always tickled my fancy. Why? Simple, really. My kin hailed from those parts, and it’s the only place said to have a coastline safe enough for a spot of sailing. It’s been my little dream, to gaze upon the sea one day.

Oh, sure, the Aurelia Empire’s got a coastline too, but the eastern shore’s more of a glorified death trap—mountains crawling with beasts that would sooner eat you than let you pass. To the north, Kaelthrim’s mountains belonged to the dwarves, and while they had some sea access, it wasn’t much safer.

Now, elves? A fortress full of the pointy-eared lot? Well, that could only mean one thing—this dungeon was perched right on the border between the elven kingdom of Lethrindel and The Beastlands. Just my blasted luck.

I drew in a deep breath. Right, pull yourself together. Stephan might know something. With that, I hoofed it over to the gaping hole in the wall. Granted, I was a bit stockier now—like a well-fed, medium-sized hound—but I could still wiggle about in tight spots. I dug my claws into the wall and scrambled up, craning my neck to get a good look inside.

Suddenly, my ears were assaulted by the most horrendous shriek. Before I could blink, a fist came rocketing towards my face at breakneck speed. Reflex took over, and for a split second, I nearly took a chomp out of it. But I reconsidered, twisted my neck, and pulled back just in the nick of time.

"Bloody hell!"

"IT'S ME, YOU UTTER WUMPKIN!" I bellowed, my voice now more gravelly than my old squeaky self. Poor chap couldn’t pull back his punch in time and—WHAM!—elbowed the wall instead. “Ow, ow, ow!” he yelped, clutching his arm like a puppy that’s just headbutted the furniture.

I popped my head back through the hole, trying—and failing—miserably to stifle a laugh. His attempt at walloping me was as flimsy as a soggy biscuit.

“JADE?!” The penny finally dropped. His face lit up with shock and perhaps a wee bewilderment.

"Well, duh!" I drawled, raising an eyebrow, or whatever I had. "Who else were you expecting? The Queen of bloody Lethrindel?"

Stephan's eyes darted over my face, straying at my head, then down to the rest of me. “What the hell happened to... you?” His voice trailed off as he blinked in disbelief.

“I’ve evolved,” I said, grinning despite myself—until I realised how that probably looked with my new horror maw. I quickly wiped the smile away. “You know, like monsters do.”

His eyes were wide, blinking rapidly as if to reset his brain. Then he tilted his head, mouth slightly open, not quite computing the whole ‘monster evolution’ business.

But there wasn’t time to go into a full biology lesson. “I’ve found the dungeon entrance,” I said quickly. “But we’ve got a teensy issue. I need your help—or at least that big noggin of yours.”

Instructions were like a reset button for frazzled human brains, or beastkin brain in this case, and Stephan’s was no exception. "I’ll help in any way I can," he muttered, nodding.

Before long, he scrambled up through the hole, his upper half popping through like a prairie dog. He didn’t struggle much—just wide enough for him to squeeze through. Once on my side, I laid out the situation, every detail of the mess we were in.

"Right then, let me get this straight—you said you weren’t brought through the portal, yeah?"

Stephan gave a nod, all solemn-like.

"Indeed," he replied. "Not once did I feel the queasy wobble you mentioned comes with a portal hop. So, yes, I’m quite certain now."

"Right-o. So that settles it—you arrived the good old-fashioned way, through the dungeon’s front door?"

Another nod from Stephan, though his brow crinkled. "Yes, yes, but you've already told me that. Why… are we going over it again?"

I took a deep breath, preparing for the next bit. "Barn, are there any other entrances connected to this base? Apart from the one you so helpfully spied?" I asked the skeletal serpent coiled lazily around my wrist.

"And who’s Barn?" Stephan piped up immediately, curiosity written all over his face. Half of me wanted to say, "Oh, just the same charming creature who gobbled up those cultists," but that would open a whole can of worms I wasn’t quite ready for.

"My guardian," I answered with a shrug, "sort of. I'll explain later. Let’s stay focused for now, shall we?"

Barn gave a negative response—three sharp clacks of his bony jaw. Funny thing was, Stephan didn’t react in the slightest. Either he hadn’t heard the clacking, or he was marvellously good at pretending. Hmm, mental note made: looks like I’m the only one who can hear him. Handy to know.

Now, just one last thing. And oh, how I desperately wanted to be dead wrong about this... maybe it was just some undiscovered door and those pesky cultists had simply taken up residence in that fortress.

"And what were they wearing?" I asked Barn. "Anything stand out?"