The Dragon Heir Chapter 87: Silver Reaper

As the dream ebbed away like a receding tide, one thing beca abundantly clear: I had to act, and swiftly at that. A familiar warmth cocooned , but sothing was off—or perhaps on. There was a weight to now, a subtle but noticeable heft. I’d grown, and not by a trifle either.

First things first, priorities in order. I needed to check sothing. With a thought, my stat screen flared to life, and my gaze locked onto the numbers that mattered most:

Mana Points (MP): 104 / 104

Dark Mana Points (Wraith Heart): 25 / 25

Stamina Points (SP): 153 / 153

My mana had nearly doubled, a lovely little bonus courtesy of my auxiliary core, brimming with dark mana. As for stamina? A veritable leap forward—no complaints there.

Now then, the pressing issue: slipping out of this snug little subterranean cocoon without alerting the gentleman currently throwing his toys out of the pram outside. Fortunately, I had just the trick for it. Despite spending what felt like hours in my evolution chamber, I knew only a couple of minutes had passed topside. I could still hear him—his furious shouting, the clash of tal against wood. Perhaps he was venting his rage on the trees. Charming.

Taking a steadying breath, I reached inward, feeling for my second core. It pulsed quietly beside my primary, a distinct thrum of dark mana. I had no prior experience wielding it, but when I called upon it, it answered just as eagerly as my lightning mana ever had. Promising, to say the least.

Ti to put it to use. Activating my Dinsional Lamina, I felt peculiar points within stir to life, like eager little beacons demanding dark mana fuel. Obediently, I fed them mana from the Wraith Heart, watching the tally drop. Ten mana down, and the chanism humd, ready for activation. Could I push it further, though? More charge, more ti in 4th dinsion?

Before I could test the theory, a sharp blow struck my earthy shell. Blast it! So, he could sense mana buildup after all. No ti to dither—another strike would crack this cocoon wide open.

I focused, igniting the Dinsional Lamina, and felt an alien ripple course through . A serpentine motion gripped my form, and the world around shifted, lting into shadowy echoes of itself. Just like that, I slipped from the grasp of the third dinsion.

The sensation was… odd. No nausea, none of that wobbly unease one expects from teleportation. But this wasn’t teleportation, was it? It was more like stepping into a folded corner of existence.

What did hit , however, was a stifling sense of absence. My Air Sense—a rather constant companion, one that stayed active and kept feeding information from the back of my mind—had gone silent, rendered utterly useless here. I vaulted upwards, breaking through the veils of shadow to find proper footing, and when I surfaced, the sight that greeted was enough to steal the breath I no longer seed to need.

The landscape was an unsettling canvas of endless fog, cloaking everything in its damp, spectral embrace. Trees—gnarled, shadowy, and slick with an otherworldly sheen—lood within a limited radius of visibility. Beyond that, only more fog, glowing faintly red in places with an unnatural malevolence. And the weight… sothing oppressive pressed down on here, heavy and wrong, as though the very air was burdened by sothing vile and corrupting.

My eyes instinctively turned toward the cave, the site of that infernal ritual. Though the fog obscured direct sight, the wrongness seed to pulse from its direction. Whatever was being conjured there was clearly bleeding into this fourth dinsion, warping its unnatural fabric.

Before anything else, I took stock of my form. I was glowing—an ethereal white haze, my edges blurred and smoky, as though my body barely existed. Intangible. My growth was apparent now, as I almost towered over Elnor. Speaking of him, he had a spectral form here too—his shadowy outline trailing smoke like a living wraith. The only things that truly glowed were his sword and the volatile tal mana swirling in a silvery sheen around him.

I couldn’t hear him, but his mouth moved, shadowy smoke curling with each silent yell, while his sword thrashed wildly at the fog. Suddenly, a blade of mana shot towards . Instinct took over, and I sidestepped. It grazed my wing—harmless, passing through like smoke—but left a strange discomfort in its wake. My Dinsional Lamina pulsed in response, draining a chunk of its charge to stabilize .

Ah, so I was largely immune to mana attacks here, though not without consequence. That blade had felt like an unwelco nudge, a reminder that I wasn’t untouchable.

To confirm a theory, I swiped at Elnor with my claws. As expected, nothing. My attack passed through him, leaving no mark save perhaps a chill. He shivered and lashed out wildly, cutting down a few more trees in his blind frustration. I grinned, my intangible form invisible to him. A few playful swipes—tickles, really—provoked more erratic shouting and slashing. He felt sothing, a drop in temperature perhaps, but he couldn’t touch .

But I could touch him—oh, yes, I had the perfect tools for that.

I felt them before I saw them: four new limbs sprouting from my neck and spine. White, fluid, and bladed at the ends, they moved with serpentine grace, as though they’d always been there. Tentacles. Aggressive, predatory, mine. They coiled and danced as I got a feel for them, their movents second nature.

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Here in the fourth dinsion, they shared my intangible quality. I willed mana into them—two points from my Wraith Heart—and watched as they began to solidify, their foggy forms sharpening into bladed, bone-like extensions. I grinned. With a single thought, I pushed them into the third dinsion.

The tentacles stretched, fluid and unnaturally long, until they pierced the veil between dinsions. Eight tres, easily. Exhilarating. The mont they entered the 3D plane, they adopted a shadowy solidity. Yes. Ready to strike.

It was ti to set the plan in motion. My Dinsional Lamina was running dangerously low on charge—barely enough to last the sa amount of ti I’d already spent here. Less than a minute. Lovely.

Summoning my lightning bolt runes, I watched as they flickered to life, forming sharp and crackling symbols. anwhile, Elnor flailed ahead, his sword mana lashing wildly at the fog as though his life depended on it. Too bad for him—I wasn’t anywhere near his strikes. The mont the runes were complete, I moved on to the next phase.

With a flick of thought, my tentacles lashed out, serpentine and precise. One coiled around his throat, cutting off his shouts, while another clamped down on his sword arm, forcing his glowing blade to still. His struggle began in earnest, but before he could do much more than gurgle in frustration, I spread my wings wide and launched us both into the air.

Mana blades flared and sliced through the space around him, but they cut only through the fog of my intangible form. The tentacles were a step ahead—half in the 4th dinsion, half in the 3D plane—rendering his frantic attempts to sever them utterly useless. Not that he had much ti left to figure that out.

With powerful wingbeats, I dragged us higher and higher into the foggy skies. The runes thrumd against my arms, burning lightning mana into them as I pushed their capacity to the limit: 20 mana to charge. Elnor thrashed and shouted as I shoved another 20 mana into the runes for the discharge.

Then ca the finale. With a final burst of effort, I released him from my grasp, watching as he plumted through the air like a broken doll. My tentacles snapped back into as I funneled the last 10 mana into the arc, my body groaning under the strain. Yet, it was tolerable—a far cry from the agony I’d endured before. Perhaps my evolution had reinforced my mana conduits.

Just as I felt the Dinsional Lamina sputter and fail, another jolt rippled through . The fog peeled back, the world snapping into clarity as tangibility returned in an instant. Air rushed to fill my lungs, tinged with the unmistakable scent of charred flesh and ozone.

Below, Elnor’s scream cut through the stillness, his body tumbling helplessly. I grinned, my wings keeping aloft as I adjusted my position. The wild crackle of lightning mana danced across my runes. Eager. Untad.

His eyes t mine, wide with terror as his fate hurtled toward him. The words raced to my lips unbidden, and before I could stop myself, I scread:

“LIGHTNING BOLT!”

The bolt roared into existence, tearing through the air in a blinding arc. It struck his falling form dead-on, splintering into explosive branches of energy as it hit. The impact sent hurtling backward from the force, but I spread my wings wide, catching the air and stabilizing myself mid-flight.

[You have slain an Elf - Level 63 Chromium Reaper (VII)/Level 27 Argent Armorer (III)]

[Massive Experience Points acquired from defeating a higher-level target.]

[Level increased.]

[Level increased.]

[Level increased.]

[Level increased.]

[Level increased.]

[Level increased.]

[Level increased.]

[Level increased.]

Mission Progress: 1/2 Leaders slain.

Even before sparing a glance at what remained of Elnor’s charred corpse, the system chid in, confirming his demise. He was dead. Truly, definitively dead. Yet, despite the reassuring ssage, a kernel of skepticism lingered—had he so secret contingency in case of such an end? Seed not. I had worried for nothing.

I winced as a fresh wave of pain throbbed through my arms. Ah, yes, the toll of overexertion. Again. But what choice had I? With soone like him, the possibility of hidden barrier enchantnts or last-ditch tricks wasn’t sothing to gamble with. One look at the scorched, smoking battlefield—a ruin of charred ground and burning trees where my lightning bolt struck—was all the justification I needed.

Shaking off the ache, I began my descent, hauling my now considerable silver-scaled form toward the ground. Despite my increased weight, the landing wasn’t much trouble. My wings, broader and more powerful than ever, caught the air with ease. My Air Sense stirred faintly, feeding snippets of movent around .

It wasn’t long before I spotted a serpent slithering gracefully through the sky—a feathered beast with a glimring coat. Bonus points if it was poisonous. My tongue flicked over my fangs in anticipation. Free mana and a al? Delightful.

I was about to channel energy into my Dinsional Lamina, preparing to dip into the 4th dinsion for a surprise ambush, when resistance t . Hmm? I tried again, only to feel an invisible pushback. A cooldown, perhaps? Interesting. Curious, I tested my tentacles instead, pouring two mana into them. With a satisfying ripple, they vanished into the shadowy plane, proving they were exempt from the sa limitation. Handy.

Ah well. No need for dinsional antics to catch this tasty morsel. My fire gland roared to life as I began charging it. Strangely, it drank 24 mana instead of the usual 4. My eyes widened—bigger firepower? A thrill shot down my spine. Had the gland evolved alongside ? Bigger fires. Bigger destruction.

Unable to stifle my grin, I unfurled my wings and dove toward the serpent, a streak of silver against the hues. It noticed , of course—a towering dragon of white is hard to miss—but before it could flee, my tentacles lashed out, coiling under its feathered head. My throat burned with the buildup of heat.

Focusing the fire into a precise point, I unleashed it in a blinding torrent. The serpent shrieked, but the concentrated inferno burned straight through its skull like a searing lance.

[You have slain a Level 17 Plumae Serpens Aeronauticus (III).]

Impressive. This firepower was leagues beyond what I wielded before—easily six tis stronger. Evolution was already paying dividends. As my tentacles released the limp serpent, my arms pulsed with pain once more. Right. Healing.

Without delay, I dived toward my prize, relishing the rising mana points. Poisonous. Excellent. Thank Thalador for small rcies. Midway through it, the ache in my arms subsided, nded by the feast.

And then, everything shifted.

The dungeon quaked, the tremors reverberating through the stone and air. Hues dispersed. A putrid stench, cloying and suffocating, rolled over . My heart skipped a beat as the sheer wrongness of the presence gripped . My scales shivered uncontrollably. A visceral reaction to whatever had erged.

My gaze snapped to the ritual site, a knot of dread coiling in my chest. I abandoned the half-finished serpent without a second thought.

“Oh, Thalador…” I muttered under my breath, wings beating furiously as I raced toward the source of the disturbance. “Don’t tell I’m too late!”