The Dragon Heir

Chapter 206: Loyal Little Minions

It went smoother than I expected.Like… smooth.

My act landed. Properly mysterious, unsettling in that way where people don’t know whether to bow, pray, or quietly piss themselves. I vanished right after Alexei claimed the Leviathan’s remnant and ended up with the artefact, threw in a vague (I was proud of that line), and dipped. Perfect ending.

Now, though, the caravan was just… moving on.

Night fell before they reached the so-called “Valley,” mostly because they had to detour around the massive crater I’d carved out while fighting the Leviathan. So instead, they took shelter in one of the subterrain caves nearby. Monsters were… persuaded to leave, and Alexei used the artefact to seal off the branching paths so nothing could wander in and ambush them while they rested.

Also, that artefact was powerful.

Artefacts by nature were semi-sapient, sometimes fully sentient depending on what they were born from. They all had ties to the Astral Plane, or at least they used to. Most of them had been cut off from it decades ago for reasons no one seemed to fully understand, and only recently had they begun reconnecting, one by one.

Even then, artefacts were temperamental things. And dangerous. They usually had to be sealed following strict procedures and only brought out when absolutely necessary.

Alexei, meanwhile, was casually walking around with a miniature Leviathan floating near him.

That alone was fascinating.

Artefacts weren’t obedient. They didn’t really owners, not in the way weapons did. Alice was a weird exception for me, and even then she only existed the way she did because Lotte rebuilt her after she self-imploded from gazing at her.

But this felt different.

It almost felt like the System itself had stepped in and forged a bond between Alexei and the artefact, marking him as its Master whether the artefact liked it or not. That wasn’t how things were supposed to work.

Normally, artefacts acted out. They cursed their holders. Side effects were expected. Sometimes these side effects were subtle, sometimes horrifying. There still be a price attached here, but the sheer authority the miniature Leviathan granted Alexei felt wildly disproportionate to any drawback I could sense.

And the authority itself was interesting.

During my fight with the original Leviathan, I’d felt the concept of Stasis from its Ice clearly. This artefact could channel that same authority, letting its wielder manipulate Ice through it. And I was fairly sure that wasn’t all it could do. It really did deserve the title of a Gold Core demigod’s remnant.

…I was a little jealous.

Just a little.

It technically mine. I’d killed the damn thing. I just couldn’t claim it because my system was being weird. Hopefully once that sorted itself out, I’d be able to take it back, and hopefully back into waking world too once the Colosseum’s trial ended. Preferably without having to pry it from Alexei’s hands.

I kept everything else so far. Experience from kills, Morphogen from eating things, all of that stayed with me. So logically, a system-granted remnant should be transferable too.

Hopefully.

I shook my head and looked around.

Future problem. For now, let the pieces keep moving.

Right now everyone was resting in the darkness. I could still feel that oppressive fog hanging over my head, pressing down on everything, but it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been at first. I was getting used to it. Or maybe I was just adapting. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.

I was meditating, running AdvancedCore Stabilization on loop, while constantly expelling clones into the Shadow Dimension so they could shapeshift into those eel monsters and go hunting in the fog. Devour monsters, collect that delicious Morphogen, snag some levels while they were at it. Efficient and very productive.

I knew I was brushing up against the cap of my current evolution. If things went right, I could evolve soon. And if happened, it’d probably snowball from there. My power was going to spike hard this time, I could feel it already, and the anticipation sat in my gut like a nervous flutter I couldn’t shake.

I mentally smacked Lazy again with Observer’s Suggestion when she tried to waste her precious seven-minute existence hiding in a bush and sleeping. Absolutely not. Terrorist, meanwhile, was having the time of her life being unleashed on fog-dwelling fish and assorted horrors. Curious was… well, being Curious. She was busy poking at how the fog worked, getting distracted by entirely different variables and systems instead of killing things efficiently.

They were still my clones. But as time went on, I could feel them drifting. Becoming more . They moved differently. Thought differently. Wanted different things. Terrorist loved a good explosion with the passion of a poet. Lazy viewed exertion as a personal insult. Curious saw the world as a puzzle to be disassembled, never mind the bleeding pieces.

The only thing they all shared was this bond back to me, the main body.

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I didn’t really have a good word for it.

If I had to force one, it’d be something like innate protectiveness mixed with loyalty. Because that’s how they acted. Loyal little minions.

…Well. Not that little.

I shook my head and focused on regenerating my mana.

Terrorist’s timer ran out right as a school of fog dwellers tried to overwhelm her by sheer numbers. She exploded gloriously in the middle of them. I felt a wave of pure satisfaction ripple back through the Observer’s Mark as she did it. She exploding. Absolutely lived for it.

I immediately weaved Observer’s Mark and Suggestion as I expelled her back into the world’s inky reflection.

I was getting much more proficient with them. Casting both together now took less than five seconds if I used both hands. It wasn’t optimal— one mistake and the runes could collide and tear into each other’s spell circles, and those circles were massive— but that risk was part of the fun. Sort of.

I also had to maintain stealth the entire time. Letting mana flare around me would draw attention, and that was the last thing I wanted right now or ever.

I marked her with both spells as she eagerly shifted form and bolted back toward the crater of her own making, to admire the artistry, no doubt. Honestly, it was very relatable. What self-respecting dragon wouldn’t want to linger over the destruction they’d personally financed? I gave a mental nod of approval and sank back into the rhythm of Core Stabilization, repeating the cycle each time a clone’s timer bled out.

Morphogen kept piling up. Experience too.

Evolution had never been this close.

Now if only this glitched-out system would .

***

By the next morning, the caravan’s spirits were high. The Waryns were noticeably more… benevolent toward their Drakkari prisoners. Success does that, I suppose. They’d gained a lot during the last day, and now that Alexei was wielding the authority of a powerful artefact, everything else just flowed. No Red Core monster posed any real threat anymore. Morale was at an all-time high, or close enough.

All except for one person.

Avena.

I wasn’t nearly as oblivious as I pretended to be. When I noticed her behavior, I’d already had her tagged with Observer’s Mark and Suggestion. Well— that was Curious, when she swapped places with Lazy yesterday while I was down in the crater pretending to be a fae. But I’d still take the credit.

Turns out something really off about her eyesight.

She was scared of what she’d seen. She had a convincing poker face, but it cracked when I tried talking to her. Looking back, it made perfect sense. If she’d seen even fragments of what I was doing in that oppressive darkness, anyone sane would be shaken.

Still… it seemed I didn’t need to worry too much.

She’d already decided to pretend she hadn’t seen anything.

I’d keep an eye on her, of course. But no drastic measures were needed. For now.

What fascinated me more were her eyes.

Yesterday, when I’d wrapped myself in Quantum Stealth, she’d pierced it anyway. Normally, trying to observe me in that state would leave people screaming on the ground from backlash alone. She hadn’t. Not even close.

That quietly bumped her up my internal priority list. Just under Alexei’s floofy wolf for now. Slightly above Maksim’s, mostly because Maksim’s wolf was floofy but in an unkempt, neglected sort of way. I nodded to myself.

My priorities were perfectly logical and unbiased. Certainly not influenced by aesthetic preferences or a deep-seated appreciation for luxurious floof.

I didn’t look at Avena directly as the caravan moved on. She might turn out to be another key to surviving this trial. Eyes like that were an asset, whether she wanted them to be or not.

And then, finally, it came into view.

The valley Alexei had spoken about.

It was noon, and we’d reach it by evening. Twin mountains rose in the distance like the fangs of some colossal beast, and beyond the light snowfall, a narrow path cut between them. I could almost feel the caravan’s pace quicken.

After however long this journey had been for them, they were finally heading back .

***

Markus lounged in the plush chair of his so-called office, gazing out through the tall window at the city beyond. Or what had once been a city. It had been sprawling, massive, deliberately built uphill with careful architecture meant to last. There had been beauty in it once. Real beauty. Before some nameless disaster wiped its population away.

Now it was only a ruin. A hollow reflection of what it used to be.

Markus wouldn’t call himself an aficionado of beauty, but nearly a decade in this gilded cage had polished his eye. Studying the city had become a quiet habit, something to occupy his thoughts when the walls felt too close. Sometimes he imagined that if he ever got out, he’d use whatever reward or treasure he earned to build a settlement of his own. As the current heir of the Azure Flame Sect, it wasn’t an impossible dream. Not entirely fantasy, at least.

It wouldn’t be as grand as this cadaver of a metropolis, of course. But he’d try to preserve a fragment of its intent. Something beautiful and something intentional.

The thought drew a dry chuckle from him.

Getting out. Righttttttt.

Markus wasn’t the type to lose hope easily, nor was he prone to breaking under pressure. But even he couldn’t deny the doubts piling up beneath the surface lately. Insidious little things, eating away at the certainty he had to project so that no one under his command would spiral.

And even that was starting to falter.

Trust was slipping. Muddying.

He was a drakkari, after all. After what the Tyrant Dragon had done— and his inevitable death— it was only natural that suspicion followed his kind. No matter how carefully he carried himself.

A presence suddenly coalesced inside the room.

Markus tore his gaze from the window just as a woman woven from shadows. A dagger, black as a void, licked toward his eye. It kissed a barrier he’d raised without conscious thought, deflecting with a sound like a struck bell. A faint smile touched his lips.

“Is assassination the new standard for ‘good morning’?” he inquired.

“You say that as if you didn’t order me to test your vigilance whenever possible,” she replied.

“You won’t be testing much if you announce yourself with that theatrical mana surge.”

“If I did not,” she said, utterly calm, “you might acquire a new facial feature. Preventing that is my primary function.”

Markus mock-clutched his chest. “You wound me. Are you implying I couldn’t handle your full, murderous enthusiasm?”

She lifted her face. Crimson eyes, cold and unblinking like rubies, met his. The lower half of her face was veiled by sheer black gossamer, rendering her expression a beautiful, blank canvas. “You could not, young master.”

The flat, absolute certainty in her voice sent a subtle, thrilling chill down his spine. Markus turned back to the window, to the safer ruin outside. He still wondered where his father had dug up a creature like her, and what he’d paid to staple her loyalty into place.

Shaking off the thought, he allowed a small smile. “Very well. Report?”

He’d asked her to inform him immediately if anything happened. He hoped it wasn’t another disaster.

“It is favorable news,” she said. “Scouts confirm Alexei and Maksim have returned from their expedition. They will arrive by morning’s first light.”

The tension in his chest eased instantly.

He’d prepared himself for the worst after the expedition ran nearly a month late. Variables were expected in situations like this, but that never stopped the dread from creeping in. Now, finally, they were back.

“Well then,” Markus said, a genuine smile forming. “It seems we must prepare a feast. Our heroes deserve a proper welcome.”

And perhaps, just perhaps, they’d brought one of the keys with them.