The Dragon Heir Chapter 156: Torture’s Off the Table ...Mostly

I hadn’t had the chance to sit down and properly sift through all the loot I’d earned, but I’d snuck a peek or two. Just as the quest summary promised: Morphogen, skill points, and bonus stats. Oh, and two fresh levels from wiping out that whole elf squad. Solid haul, but the real prize was tucked in the spellbook I’d gotten, and whatever rare skill was dangling behind that "one skill point" paywall. Plus, the Morphogen ant further... internal renovations.

Especially for the shiny new organ I’d cultivated—one granting, bluntly put, self-replication. Yeah, that was going to be fun once I saw the upgrade tree. Still, this wasn’t the ti or place to start poking around in my own guts. All of that needed a bit more privacy than I currently had. So, ntal shelf it went.

Outside, night had dropped in, and snow had started falling, light and lazy. I was holed up in Lysska’s so-called “office,” with Vyra sprawled across the now-repaired sofa. She was notably unimpressed that I’d broken her favorite one. I wisely avoided ntioning its terminal decrepitude and settled for a curt apology.

Viper was there too, slumped in the back, leaning against his salamander beast. Pretty sure he wasn’t part of my fan club, my utterances earned, at best, a guttural acknowledgent. Vyra, however, maintained her barrage. What warped my appearance? Alchemical volatility, I lied. How did I evade her strike and materialize at her throat? Trade secret. Which, according to Lysska, was an acceptable answer around here. Vyra didn’t push it further.

We also maintained radio silence on that other incident, the unintentional full exposure show for a salamander, a child, and his mother. That narrative operated under strict "deny-or-die" protocols.

What I critically required was attire harmonized to my dinsional resonance—gear that wouldn’t get embarrassingly left behind mid-phase. The ability functioned seamlessly in full draconic form (nudity: feature, not bug), but in my drakkari form... let's just say it created problematic modesty situations.

And for Vyra’s future reference, phasing though stuff ranked embarrassingly low on the list of my newly acquired talents. Not that they needed that dossier just yet.

Right now, though? Peace. Finally. Just the hush of falling snow outside. I was physically fine, but my brain felt like it hadn’t gotten five minutes of rest in days.

The fireplace was burning for the first ti. I had a blanket—surprisingly plush, considering the rest of this place—and maybe it was the warmth, maybe the quiet, but sothing in really wanted to knock out and sleep.

Bad idea, though. We had a bound, very naked elf still parked in a chair. His poison was nearly burned through, which ant rest ti had a ticking clock.

No sign of Lysska yet. She was still using that crow of hers to talk through Vyra, so she was definitely around—just not here.

According to her, she was safe. Or so she claid. I had no idea how long she’d be gone, but I was a little too curious for my own good about what kind of story she’d spun.

More importantly, I wanted to know the current situation at the Alchemy Tower. Whether I could actually go back. My room there was basically a fortress for mutating safely. One set of wards blocked any divinator’s peeping eyes. Another made sure no mana, no residue, not even a flicker of magic, leaked outside. Which ant I could go completely off the rails with potions and research without worrying about fallout—literal or otherwise.

Cramped? Absolutely. Yet I’d developed a perverse fondness for that sterile, secured cube.

Speaking of the Tower, I still needed to talk with Gwen. I was waiting on a reply from her. Hopefully she was alright. I an—it was Gwen. If anyone could handle whatever ss was unfolding, it was her. I was just itching to hear what was going down.

For now? We sat on simr, awaiting our elf captive’s cognitive reboot. You know, so I could comnce… information extraction. Professionally.

That mont finally rolled around. He started with a low mumble, head wobbling side to side as the bindings kept him still. Honestly, regular rope wouldn’t do squat to a red core, but Lysska—being the ever-resourceful shadow queen of the Lower District—had the good stuff: enchanted bindings.

I’d held one earlier. It felt like I could snap it with a good twist—but then again, my strength had gotten a little...uncalibrated lately. I really wished I had a proper scale to asure it. Especially now that I’d picked up two levels from wiping out that elf patrol, which honestly didn’t feel like it should’ve been that rewarding, given how easy they dropped.

Then his eyes blinked open.

By then, all three of us were standing right in front of him, radiating nace. Plus the salamander, trying its best to look fierce with those dark scales—though I could sense a flicker of unease in it, directed at . ntal note: reptile diplomacy required.

Priority: interrogation.

I stepped forward to speak—and the elf imdiately let out a blood-curdling shriek.

Then ca the struggling. He thrashed in place, trying to break free, and while the chains held just fine, he did manage to smash the chair he’d been tied to. Great.

“Don’t worry, the room’s warded against noise,” Vyra said casually, giving a thumbs-up. Good to know. My ears were still ringing.

Now on the ground and still wrapped in those enchanted chains, the elf stared up at , wide-eyed and horrified. I smiled down at him. That should’ve been enough to get the ssage across—he wasn’t going anywhere.

I crouched, violet irises locking onto panic-green. First objective: muzzle any premature confessions like ‘a dragon shredded my squad!’ Because… accuracy was inconvenient.

Capitalizing on his daze, I forced a truth serum vial down his esophagus. Confusion flashed; overpowering his jaw required negligible effort. Compliance achieved.

“Now,” I stated, rising and dusting off non-existent gri, “vocalize only when prompted. If, uhh, continued respiration is desirable.”

Continued respiration was off the nu, naturally. But false hope greases the interrogation gears.

Part of hoped he’d argue. A few phalanges begged for kinetic readjustnt.

I cleared my throat and got ready for the fun part.

“Can I take the questioning this ti?!” Vyra piped up from behind , practically bouncing. “I can do this.” She bent her fingers back with a wet squelch that made Viper’s stomach twist from his expression. “and I’m very good at torture.”

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I stared at her, deadpan.

Yeah, I was good at torture too. I think.

“No. Let handle it. I actually know what’s going on, so I might, you know, not botch it.”

Viper stayed silent in the background, doing the whole mysterious-and-deadly thing. Which, sure, wasn’t exactly accurate, but image was everything—especially to a delirious elf strung up in enchanted chains.

Still… I kind of wished Lysska were here. She was good at this stuff.

We weren’t.

Ugh.

I crouched again, eyes narrowing on our guest.

“First off—what the fuck were you guys trying to achieve with today’s attack?”

His expression twisted, hesitation written all over his bruised features—then his eyes glazed over slightly. Finally. The truth serum was kicking in.

I may have overdosed him a bit. But red core bodies burned through normal doses like candy, and I wasn’t about to let him shrug it off. Usually, you’d give a few drops. I gave him the whole tube.

Worked like a charm.

“Wus… o-order… to reduze ze stability of the city… zohow,” he slurred.

Destabilize Varkaigrad? If the Vor’Akhs had succeeded, 'destabilize' would be a euphemism for 'convert to a smoldering caldera.'

I drilled down with a few more pointed questions. Turns out they’d been waiting for a signal from so Vor’Akh operatives in the Upper District. Signal absent, this tactical genius opted for unsanctioned chaos deploynt—full kinetic spectacle, squad included. Textbook insurgency logic.

“Where exactly are you from?” I asked, tightening my focus. That was the key question. Was he from the House of Valendris—the sa one whose fortress the portals led to? The sa one Alice and Belle were currently infiltrating?

“I am… an azziztant professor… in the Avalon,” he muttered, head lolling.

“Avalon, as in Avalon Academy?”

That was Viper—speaking up for the first ti since this whole thing began.

“Yuz,” the elf mumbled.

That actually got a reaction out of all of us.

Avalon Academy wasn’t just prestigious—it was the academy. The highest of high-tier institutions on the continent. Just getting in was considered a once-in-a-lifeti achievent.

So what the hell was an assistant professor from Avalon doing leading a suicidal elf strike force?

The Academy lay nestled in the Free Lands between Lithrindel and Aurelia—neutral territory, officially unaffiliated with any nation.

Didn’t make its influence any less terrifying.

With a headmaster who was a Gold Core—and not the only one—Avalon was less an academy and more a gathering point for monsters in human (and non-human) skin.

Multiple professors at Gold Core.

Aurelia empire barely had enough Gold Cores to count on two hands.

Avalon had a dozen. From every race. Humans, elves, dwarves, beastkin—you na it. It didn’t make sense, but maybe that was the point. Avalon’s existence was absurd. A crucible of talent where, if you got in, you were ascending—no question.

Truth be told, I never really considered the place before. A few months ago, I didn’t even have magic.

But now?

Now this half-dead elf claiming to be an assistant professor from there was setting off every alarm in my head. This wasn’t just so rogue necromancer playing dress-up. No wonder his construct had been such a nightmare.

“Is there a future attack you all are planning?” I asked, leaning forward.

“I don’t know,” he slurred.

“Why?”

“Planz chanzed… after what happened. I was yet to receive another order.”

Great. Of course we’d catch the one guy before the next wave of instructions dropped. I rubbed my eyes. Perfect timing.

Still, the next question followed logically enough. I should’ve thought about it more, maybe. But I was riding the chain of logic like a runaway cart.

“I’m assuming you’re following soone’s orders. Maybe a professor at Avalon too. Who is it?”

His mouth opened, jaw moving. But no sound ca out. His lips shaped a na—or sothing—but there was only silence.

I crouched down, voice sharpening. “I asked you a question. Who is your leader?”

Again, his lips moved. But still, no sound. Then his throat twitched, and he began coughing. Violently. Dry, hacking coughs like his lungs were on fire.

I took a sharp step back. Vyra did the sa.

“What the hell—?”

“Do you think he’s under so kind of hex? One that stops him from revealing nas?” Viper finally spoke, quiet and thoughtful.

That made way too much sense. “But I’ve never heard of—”

And then it hit .

The mory ca sharp and fast—Gwen. Showing that elf a soulbound contract after she obliterated that Gold Core abomination in the dungeon. I rembered her words. Soul magic.

What if this guy was bound by sothing similar? A magical contract, reinforced by the soul. Not a simple gag spell, but sothing deeper. Sothing that’d cause real damage if violated.

That... complicated things.

I’d have to be more careful—refra my questions, maybe lead him sideways instead of head-on.

I was still thinking that through when I slled it.

Before I felt it.

That rot.

THAT SA FUCKING ROT!

My instincts scread. I didn’t need to see—I knew. My nose wrinkled, every muscle tensing as I snapped my head toward the elf.

He was choking. No—convulsing. And that stench—

The sa rot I’d slled on that Gold Core abomination.

The sa vile decay that clung to Iron and his twisted gang.

The sa corruption that made every fiber of my being blaze with raw, violent hatred.

INTRUDER!!

PURGE THE FILTH!!

EXCISE IT FROM EXISTENCE!!

A growl tore from my throat before I even realized I’d moved. My claws flexed. Vyra and Viper had already backed off, sensing sothing was off.

The elf was full-on spasming now, limbs jerking unnaturally as his skin began to bulge, then split. Sickly, wet pops echoed as strange, petal-like growths forced their way from beneath his flesh—mutating him with each grotesque twitch.

A System notification imdiately blazed across my vision.