The destruction was extensive.

The world of the Primal Realm had been obliterated for dozens of miles in every direction, and the battle had killed the wildlife that had been drawn to the Legacy of Titans in Elijah’s Arcane Loop. That they could even feel it was a troubling mystery he’d yet to solve, because he could sense nothing from within the separate space attached to the ring. The only explanation that made sense to him was that they had been driven by the rules of the Primal Realm.

But now, after every elemental beast for hundreds of miles had been drawn close, their efforts in pursuit had been rewarded by utter destruction. None had survived the upheaval wrought by the giants or the spell-driven plague Elijah had summoned.

“Are you okay?” asked Oscar as they lagged behind the group of raiders. Those gathered fighters were eager to exit the Primal Realm, but Elijah wasn’t certain if it was driven by a desire to return home or a need to escape Elijah’s potential wrath. Maybe it was both, which left him a little pensive.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. A lot of killing.”

“That is the way of these things.”

It was a simple statement, but in its simplicity was a profound truth. Progression meant killing – at least for him and other combatants like him. That was the path they’d chosen. Maybe some of them could have picked different archetypes and become Scholars or Tradesmen. But more often than not, they’d been pigeonholed into becoming combatants.

And that meant killing.

In fact, Elijah was sometimes aghast at how comfortable he was with it.

“Should we be so…I don’t know…blasé about it, though? Those giants didn’t deserve to die. Neither did all these animals,” he said.

“They attacked us.”

Escobar, who was trotting along at about shoulder height, barked in agreement. If anyone was fine with killing, it was the chihuahua. From everything Elijah understood about the dog, he considered any challenge to his ultimate authority to be a personal affront. An attack on his person. And he was more than willing to respond in kind.

Of course, that was probably just the chihuahua in him.

“It doesn’t matter, I guess. It was them or us,” Elijah admitted. “Just seems like such a waste.”

Did it matter that none of them were real? Not to him. Would the donated souls remember the pain they experienced when they were reunited with their bodies? Would some vestige of that enmity remain? An echo of their experiences with death? He had no idea, but he didn’t like the notion that they might be potentially scarred from the ordeal.

He let out another sigh, then continued along.

As he did, he studied the hundred-or-so people in front of him. They were an impressive bunch by anyone’s standards. Maybe not individually mighty – not like him and Oscar – but together, they could muster a significant level of power.

Idly, he wondered if he could take them all, and the immediate answer was an unequivocal yes. Hopefully, it would never come to that, though.

For their part, the people – all from different guilds, but with the majority from the League of Ancients – were kind enough, but Elijah couldn’t help but wonder if that was due to fear. After all, if he knew he could kill them all without skipping a beat, then surely they did as well.

Those thoughts – and many more just like it – flitted across Elijah’s mind as he, the pack, and the raiders crossed the Crystal Fields. It wasn’t long before they left the battlefield behind and entered more pristine territory. Once again, the floating mountains loomed overhead while giant crystals dotted the landscape.

Without any wildlife, it was eerily beautiful.

Almost timeless.

Nearly two weeks passed, and in that time, Elijah grew no closer to the raiders. Chelsea – the leader – spoke to him on a few occasions, but even she was incredibly standoffish. Obviously, she was afraid.

It reminded Elijah of Ironshore.

There, the people accepted his presence as inevitable, but that didn’t mean he was one of them. The same was true of the raiders. There were a few people there who looked at him with a mixture of animosity and ambition – an unkempt woman with great bone structure among them – but thankfully, no one acted on those feelings.

For Elijah’s part, it felt a lot like traveling with only Oscar and the pack for company, for all the companionship the raiders offered. But that was okay. The two weeks allowed everyone to recover to full strength, and it also gave Elijah the opportunity to inspect his gains.

After all, he’d killed a lot of giants, animals, and other creatures since the last time he’d checked his status. Sure, the experience seemed to have been split between him and the pack, but the sheer volume of carnage – and the levels of the giants – had inflated his gains by quite a lot.

Still, eight levels was more than he could have expected.

Two hundred.

It was a ridiculous number, and yet, when he considered it, it fell in line with what he’d gained in the Chimeric Forge. Oddly enough, it would have been more if it weren’t for having to split the experience with the pack. More than that, though, was the fact that when he’d hit level two hundred, the flow of experience had come to a screeching halt. Even killing the last four giants had barely offered a miniscule degree of progress.

That suggested that it would take quite a lot to push him forward from then on out. He’d hit speed bumps before, so it shouldn’t have been surprising. Even so, it felt like he’d run head-first into a brick wall. Scaling it would take quite a lot of effort.

With that in mind, he looked at his status:

As he sat in a secluded hollow, all of his equipment – save for his Arcane Loop – sitting nearby under a generous dusting of cleansing powder, Elijah had let every single one of his buffs lapse. No coffee or food enhancements. No spells. Just him, freshly scrubbed from his recent shower.

And his attributes were impressive. Over six hundred in every single category was a phenomenal feat, and for the first time in a long time, he felt every single point. The battles he’d recently fought had occurred on a scale he’d never experienced before, and he’d responded with truly devastating power.

Elijah knew he was no longer human. It had been quite a while since he could make that claim. Even before he’d grown scales, he’d questioned his own inclusion in his native species. Yet, for the first time ever, he truly felt like something else. And he couldn’t help but wonder if he, even among dragons, might be something wholly different.

The feeling of isolation that came with that thought was nearly overwhelming, and he quickly distracted himself with a decision that had been looming over him for quite some time. He glanced at it, and even after giving it almost two weeks’ worth of thought, still had no idea which direction he wanted to go with his latest spell evolution.

As had been the case with nearly every spell evolution he’d gotten, he had already satisfied the requirements. Doubtless, that was due to his peerless Legacy, though he wondered about those people who hadn’t achieved quite as many feats of strength. How frustrating would it be for them to see an upgrade dangling in front of them and not be able to take it?

It would drive Elijah mad – especially when it was tied to one of his most potent abilities. The fact that it was Shape of Venom was an incredible surprise. He’d expected to evolve Shape of the Sky next. Then, maybe Shape of the Sea down the road. Maybe even Shape of the Master. But he had to admit that the evolution would be welcome.

Shape of Venom hadn’t become outdated – not by a long shot – but it definitely felt a bit limited. Perhaps this evolution would change that.

In any case, over the last couple of weeks, he’d come to a decent prediction of what each choice represented. The first was more of the same, meaning a heavier focus on toxicity. It was easy to think of it as the lesser of the three options, but the reality was that Elijah was incredibly happy with the role Shape of Venom had played. It fit in quite nicely with the rest of his bestial shapes, occupying a niche all its own.

So, for the first time ever, he didn’t omit the straight upgrade outright.

The next option was more like Shape of the Predator, though with added stealth abilities. It was tempting as well, considering just how often he used Guise of the Unseen to sneak past enemy lines. Undoubtedly, it would also feature potent ambush abilities, much like his original draconid form.

Then there was the wildcard. The Broodmaster. Elijah had racked his brain trying to figure out what it meant – at least until, at last, he came up with a viable answer. Basically every time he’d used Shape of Venom over the past year or two, he’d also leaned heavily on Lurking Swarm. Could that have influenced his choices?

Perhaps. Maybe there was a Feat of Strength associated with it. Regardless, that was his best guess as to what the third option promised. And as much as the idea of conjuring an army of subordinate venom-delivery devices appealed, he found the whole thing a bit redundant.

After all, he already had Primal Swarm and its subordinate abilities to fill that role. And what’s more, Elijah didn’t really like depending on other creatures – conjured or not – to fulfill his roles.

Was it powerful?

Assuredly so.

Yet, it was also the first of the three choices that Elijah chose to eliminate. It just didn’t feel right, and to a man so driven by instincts, that was enough. So, the decision came down to two options. Scourge of Folded Shadows.

More venom? Or more stealth?

Putting it in those terms made the choice much easier. At the end of the day, Guise of the Unseen hadn’t failed him very often – and when it had, the consequences weren’t dire. Sure, he suspected that in the future, the ability for his enemies to detect him would grow much more potent. But stealth was not the point of Shape of Venom.

Delivering boatloads of powerful toxins was.

He chose Scourge.

Scourgedrake. The name was evocative, though Elijah wasn’t certain what form it would take. In any case, he needed to inspect the form’s nascent abilities before he gave it a try.

That was the upgrade to Insidious Malady, which Elijah often forgot. His memory notwithstanding, it was always active, so he didn’t need to think about it in order for it to be effective. The new version was clearly a step above the previous, especially considering that it restricted the flow of ethera. That would not only slow – or even stop – spellcasting, but it would also throw people off. Combined with the normal damage that came with the affliction, it would be incredibly effective.

Satisfied, Elijah moved on to the evolution of Envenom:

There was a lot to unpack there, but there was one more notification waiting for him before he could test his new form out:

Elijah frowned at that, though given the description of Spreading Blight, it wasn’t unexpected. But as much as he didn’t like losing control of the ability, he had to admit that at least this way, he’d use it more reliably. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d forgotten to apply the Brand of the Stalker – which was probably why the system had seen fit to merge it into a new ability.

There was one final notification awaiting him, and it was a much more welcome sight:

It was also followed by a notification that Predator Strike, which had become reflexive by that point, had been absorbed by the new passive trait. An unexpected evolution, but a welcome one. That just meant he had one less thing to juggle going forward.

In any case, now that Elijah had gotten all of his notifications out of the way, he only had one more thing on his docket – he needed to see what, exactly, a scourgedrake was. So, he embraced the spell and felt his body transform.