Remove
A thin silver seam stitched itself into the fabric of Kethra's domain, then split apart with a sound like parchment being delicately torn. From within stepped Jackal Quipshade, bushy tail swaying lazily behind him as he brushed invisible dust from his fur.
Kethra's divine realm was an endless black expanse that stretched in every direction, yet it was not empty. Lines of faint gray script drifted through the realm like falling snow—names, promises, bargains, whispered oaths. Each glowed faintly before dissolving away.
Suspended platforms of dark stone hovered at varying heights, etched with glowing scripts the size of continents. Chains of ink bound some of them together. Others floated freely, script shifting on its own.
At the center of it all stood a single towering desk carved from something darker than space itself.
Behind it waited Kethra.
Soot-dark robes pooled around their form, swallowing what little ambient glow the realm possessed. Their skin was blacker still—so devoid of reflection that even Jackal's keen senses struggled to define their edges. In one hand they held a bound ledger secured with dark metal clasps. In the other, a sliver of charcoal.
The charcoal paused mid-scratch as Jackal stepped fully through.
"What are you doing here?" Kethra said evenly, their voice like dry, crumpled parchment.
Jackal flashed a grin full of sharp white teeth. His large canine ears twitched with theatrical innocence.
"Oh come now," he said lightly. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?"
Kethra closed the ledger with a firm snap.
"What kind of friend forgets to pay their debts," Kethra said. "I fully expected to never see you again."
Jackal placed a hand over his chest as if wounded. "Kethra, please," he said smoothly. "When has a minor delay ever counted as true delinquency between esteemed friends and colleagues?"
His ears flicked lazily. "Besides, I wouldn't call it 'owing.' I prefer to think of it as a long-term investment in our continued relationship."
"You have been in my debt since before you clawed your way into godhood," Kethra said coldly. "And you have been conspicuously absent ever since. Tell me, have you finally come to settle what is owed?"
Jackal's tail swished once.
"Well," he said smoothly, "what are a few billion years between gods?"
Kethra did not respond and let the silence stretch.
Jackal's grin widened slightly.
"You knew I'd settle up eventually," he continued. "I always do. Might take a while. Might involve creative interpretation. But I always pay my debts."
"You have owed me," Kethra replied, "for longer than the lifespan of entire universes."
Jackal coughed lightly. "Semantics."
He glanced around the floating ledgers, watching a string of glowing script curl up and vanish into Kethra's charcoal.
"So," he said casually, rocking back on his heels. "Have you been keeping an eye on the 111th Integration?"
Kethra opened the ledger and resumed their work.
"No."
Jackal's ears perked.
"No?" he echoed.
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
"I am preparing my ascent into the third layer," Kethra said. "Why would I possibly pay attention to such a minor occurrence?
"The newly Integrated are amusing." Jackal retorted.
"But they rarely matter. They scramble, they claw, they burn bright for a moment—and then they collapse beneath challenges too vast for their immaturity."
Jackal laughed.
"True enough. None of the Integrated from my universe made it. Every last one of them bit off something too big and they wound up choking."
Kethra inclined their head slightly.
"It has been the same since my ascension in the 56th universe. The first generation of nearly every Integration is doomed. Even with the System's indulgences—granting them Cores, accelerating their growth with Titles—it pales in comparison to being born within the System's weave."
A faint ripple passed through the domain.
"I will observe when the Integrated bear children," Kethra added. "The second generation occasionally produces something… noteworthy."
Jackal's grin sharpened.
"Usually," he agreed.
There was something in his tone that lingered.
Kethra's charcoal stilled once more.
"So why," they asked, "have you disturbed my preparations?"
Jackal clasped his hands behind his back and rocked forward slightly.
"Oh," he said lightly. "I came to settle my debt."
Even in the endless dark, Kethra's stillness deepened.
Jackal tilted his head, trying to read their expression but failed entirely.
"I have information," he continued smoothly. "Information valuable enough to cover what I owe you several times over."
The charcoal lowered slowly.
"What information could possibly justify your presence in my domain?"
Jackal's grin grew even wider.
"Oh, don't look so suspicious," he said. "I wouldn't insult you with something trivial."
Kethra's voice was flat. "You insult me simply by standing there. Get on with it."
Jackal's tail flicked in amusement.
"Fair," he conceded. "I promise it's worth my interruption of your oh so important preparations."
He leaned forward slightly, voice barely above a whisper.
"The 111th Integration has a System's Chosen."
Silence flooded Kethra's domain.
Then—
Kethra made a dry, rasping sound that might have been a laugh.
"A poor joke," they said. "There has not been a System's Chosen marked during a Tutorial since the 33rd Era. The System does not act so prematurely."
Jackal gave no hints that he was joking.
For the first time since entering the domain, his grin faded completely.
"I'm serious."
The words fell cleanly between them.
"And… I know which Tutorial the System's chosen is in," he continued. "I even know which god is at the helm of the Chosen's Tutorial."
The charcoal slipped completely from Kethra's fingers.
"You are not playing at one of your games?" Kethra asked, voice thinning dangerously. "If you are lying within my domain—"
"I'm not," Jackal said calmly.
The darkness around Kethra deepened, ink swirled through the air.
"If the System has marked a Chosen during the Tutorial phase…" they murmured.
"Everything shifts," Jackal finished. "You know what that means."
The System's Chosen were not merely powerful.
Fate bent around the Chosen. Coincidence thickened around their steps. Paths that should take centuries were instead compressed into decades—sometimes even just years. Obstacles that would shatter others instead refined the Chosen. Enemies meant to cull them became stepping stones on the Chosen's path to godhood.
The System did not bestow the mark lightly. In most Integrations, it waited—observed generations, tested bloodlines, allowed countless prospects to fail before selecting a spearhead worthy of shaping a universe's trajectory. If it chose one at all.
To mark one during the Tutorial phase—before a world had even stabilized—was unheard of in recent eras.
Kethra's composure fractured.
"Introduce me to the god overseeing that Tutorial," they said immediately. "Do so, and your debt is erased."
Jackal's ears twitched.
"This information is worth quite a bit more than my meager debt. Clear what I owe and I'd like one small favor from you."
Kethra did not hesitate. "Fine," they snapped. "One favor. Now take us to the god presiding over that Tutorial."
Jackal's grin returned—brilliant and predatory.
"Deal."
Before Kethra could refine the terms, Jackal reached into his fur and produced a gleaming silver zipper.
He held it out into empty space and unzipped reality. The void parted and Jackal stepped through. Kethra followed close behind.
The zipper snapped shut behind them, leaving only script drifting in their wake.
The climb up was easier than he expected.
Cade grunted as he pulled himself upward along a thick, gnarled aerial root that spiraled like a twisted rope. His slightly too big leather boots found purchase on a knotted ridge of bark as he continued to ascend.
A small, exhausted smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Just a few hours ago, climbing this same tree had been a struggle. Back when he'd hidden in the lower branches to ambush the boar, every pull to get up to the perch felt like his muscles would snap. Now he felt a newfound strength in his arms. A control in his core that didn't exist previously. Every point in Strength and Dexterity he gained was showing its worth to him now.
Higher he went, past the massive trunk where N'zhal had descended from, into the upper reaches of the canopy. The banyan rose like a tower among the swamp's murky green waves. As he climbed, he noticed something strange: long, dark thorns were sprouting from the wood.
They gleamed in the light like onyx, the same black as N'zhal's scales. The narrow and jagged spikes were at least half a foot long. They jutted from the branches and trunks in irregular clusters creating a natural defense.
This made Cade's pace slow as he carefully navigated around them. They weren't everywhere, but they were frequent enough that he had to be deliberate with his movements. He wasn't in a rush, and getting skewered was not on the agenda.
The further up he went, the more surreal it felt. The branches didn't thin in the way he expected. Even the high limbs near the crown were thick and strong—unnaturally so. It was like the tree had grown specifically to support the weight of something massive.
Like a snake that would keep growing larger and larger, he thought grimly.
Eventually, the canopy began to thin. Cade hauled himself onto a wide branch and pushed his way through dangling vines until his head breached the top leaves of the tree.
The view stole his breath.
Endless green stretched in almost every direction. Trees knotted together into a tangled web of life, cut only by scattered clearings and glinting patches of brown and black water. It was the second time Cade had seen the swamp from above but it was no less impressive than the first.
He turned slowly, scanning the horizon.
The artificial sun hung a bit above the horizon, its location telling him he had a few hours until nightfall. That meant he still had some time to find shelter before dark.
But not here.
He didn't trust this tree. Climbing it was one thing. Sleeping in it? That was different.
His eyes flicked to the black thorns that had grown from its bark. What if they grow while I sleep? What if they grow into me? The thought made him shudder. No, he needed somewhere else.
He kept scanning, turning his gaze west and just a few degrees north of the setting sun—and that's when he saw it.
Another clearing. But unlike the ones he'd passed before, this one wasn't dull brown or swampy green. It was vibrant.
Patches of vivid blue, purple, red, yellow, and stark white dotted the clearing, as though someone had spilled paint across the landscape. The colors stood out in the swamp, utterly unnatural in the otherwise muted landscape.
Cade narrowed his eyes.
What the hell is that?
He saw no movement—no signs of a creature or structure—but it was far enough that anything smaller than a house would be hard to see. Still, it pulled at him. Curiosity had gotten him this far, and it wasn't about to stop now.
He marked the clearing's location mentally. That's where I'm going next.
To the far north, well past the clearing, Cade saw a shimmer of vast water in the distance.
The lake, he realized. Where my old group is heading.
He stiffened. He didn't want to risk running into them. Not yet. His stats might have caught up for now thanks to his newly gained Titles, but they had classes and professions. Without the same, he'd easily fall behind again.
He turned east: dense swamp. South: more of the same, except—
A blue shimmer in the distance. The wall he'd seen during his fall into the Tutorial. That was the edge of the zone, supposedly impassable for another 27 days. Maybe he'd test it later, but for now that technicolor clearing called to him.
He climbed back below the canopy, toward the tree's upper branches—eyes sharp for anything strange. The view was worth the climb but he wouldn't put it past the System to hide something in this tree.
The descent was slower.
Cade took his time moving branch to branch, weaving carefully around the long, gleaming thorns. They were even sharper up close—jagged like splintered glass, some of them easily the length of his forearm. He'd seen enough strange biology in the swamp to know better than to brush up against one of them by accident.
He paused near a fork in the tree where several limbs twisted together. He hadn't noticed it before, but one of the thick upper limbs branched directly into a strange round and unnaturally smooth cavity in the trunk.
It was a hole, maybe a meter wide, set directly into the upper crown of the banyan.
Cade's instincts buzzed as he felt the subtle pressure leaking out of that hole. A familiar tension, like the moment before a spell went off. Not quite magical and not quite physical but something deeper.
He crept closer, crouching low on the branch and peering into the hollow.
It was dark but not pitch black. The tunnel dropped straight down into a dimly lit green but was deep enough he couldn't see the bottom.
A tight prickle crawled up Cade's spine.
The subtle pressure emanating from the hole reminded him of his evolution—when the pressure had built inside that dense white space. Not quite the same, but similar and much less intense.
He bit the inside of his cheek.
Is this what N'zhal was guarding?
He could imagine it now—the snake coiled in the branches above, silently watching the hollow like a dragon over its hoard. Whatever was down there was likely important. But Cade wasn't about to leap in blind.
The walls of the tunnel were unnaturally smooth, with no ridges or footholds. Even if he did slide down, there was no guarantee he'd be able to climb back up. That was a level of risk he wasn't willing to take.
His eyes flicked to a nearby cluster of thinner aerial roots draping from the higher branches.
A plan started to form.
Cade edged away from the hollow, making his way to the root cluster. These were different from the thick ones on the main branches. These were thinner, lighter, and more flexible. Almost vine-like, but still strong enough to hold his weight. He tugged experimentally on a bundle. They didn't break and that was good enough for him.
He began hoisting the roots up, bundling them like a makeshift rope.
After gathering them up, he returned to the hollow and dropped them down into the darkness. The roots uncoiled and vanished from sight, swallowed by the tree's interior.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Cade tested the tension. Their natural anchor points on the branches above held firm. He took a deep breath, wrapping both hands around the root rope.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's see what you were hiding, you scaly bastard."
Then he swung over the edge and began his descent into the heart of the Blackflake Bastion Banyan.
Hand over hand, feet braced against the smooth sides, Cade worked his way down. The pressure intensified with every meter. It was crawling across his skin, seeping into his eyes and ears and even his bones. It wasn't as overwhelming as his evolution—but it was getting close.
Whatever was down there felt powerful.
The light from above faded quickly. Cade estimated he'd descended nearly thirty meters, the faint green glow from the tunnel his only light source.
He reached the bottom, feet settling on smooth wood.
The air was dense here.
Cade looked around. He could barely see—the only light was the faint greenish hue coming from the tunnel above but not from down in the chamber itself. There was something in front of him. He could feel it. Pressure radiated off it like heat from a forge.
He reached out and pain sliced across his palm.
"Shit—!" He yanked his hand back, blood already welling. Something had cut him.
Cade squinted forward and tried to activate [Identify].
Nothing happened.
He focused further, beyond the immediate cut zone, pushing his new skill toward the source of that pressure.
This time, the skill triggered.
Flake of the Obsidian Keystone — ??
Cade stared at the screen. No description or level or anything. Just the name and two question marks.
"Great," he muttered. "Thanks for nothing, lesser Identify."
He dismissed the screen and stared into the dark again. Flake of the Obsidian Keystone. The name sounded important and dangerous. This had to be the N'zhal's treasure.
He flexed his hand, feeling the blood smear between his fingers. It made sense now how he'd cut himself—he must have brushed the edge of the flake. He'd heard that obsidian could form blades sharper than steel, even sharp enough to cut at the cellular level. Ancient civilizations of Earth had used it for knives and ritual weapons. Some modern surgeons still used obsidian scalpels for their superior cutting ability.
But obsidian was also fragile. Deadly sharp, but brittle.
Cade crouched low, squinting toward the unseen shape in front of him. The pressure rolling off it wasn't just a trick of his imagination. It was the same feeling he'd gotten during his evolution, when every cell in his body had been humming under the System's power. Whatever this "keystone" was, it was radiating that same sort of pressure.
He wasn't leaving without it.
The problem was getting it out without losing a finger.
There was almost no light down here, just the faint green light filtering down the hollow shaft from above. He could barely make out the edges of his hand, much less the object that had cut him.
"Alright," he muttered as he reached for the root rope, climbing a few meters back up until the faint glow from above strengthened. It was a faintly luminescent sap that oozed from cracks in the inner walls, glowing green with some sort of bioluminescence.
Cade grabbed his axe and scraped the head against the glowing sap, smearing a thick layer across the broken metal edge. The smell was strange—sweet but acrid, like rotting fruit mixed with ozone.
When he climbed back down, the broken axe head now glowed faintly, throwing eerie green light across the inner chamber.
The hollow was massive. Larger than he'd guessed. The smooth, black walls stretched up around him, almost as if they were polished. There was no bark here—just slick, dark wood that drank the light instead of reflecting it. The glow of his sap-smeared axe turned the walls into a sea of deep shadow.
And then he saw it.
Embedded halfway up the wall in front of him was a shard of something darker than black. Its surface was fractured but glassy.
A thin line of his blood streaked its surface.
Cade took a steadying breath and stepped closer, careful not to brush against it again.
This was the thing that had cut him. The Flake of the Obsidian Keystone.
Gripping it by the shaft he spun the axe around. The blade was useless but the spike on the back end was still usable. He pressed it to the wall just beneath the shard and began to dig.
At first, he worked slowly, carving careful wedges of the wood away. He wasn't sure if this tree was actually conscious or just had levels due to the System. The last thing he wanted was for it to suddenly decide to crush him for harming it. But as he carved, nothing happened.
Encouraged, Cade began to work faster, chiseling around the shard, sweat forming on his brow despite the cool air inside the chamber. Chips of dark wood fell away. The faint pressure in the chamber seemed to thrum stronger the more he dug.
And then—with a small plop—the shard dropped free.
Cade froze, expecting something to happen. He waited for any signs of movement but just like before, nothing came.
He exhaled. "Okay. That's one problem solved."
He bent down to pick up the shard, pinching it between two fingers by its flattest edges. Even then, the weight surprised him—it was heavier than it looked, dense like tungsten but cool to the touch.
He turned to tuck it into a side pocket of his armor—
—and the flake sliced clean through the leather.
It fell to the floor again with a quiet ting.
Cade cursed and jumped back. The cut was perfectly clean. The thing had sheared through the hardened hide like it was nothing.
He stared down at the fragment gleaming in the dim light, frustration and awe warring in his chest.
"Right," he said under his breath. "So it's sharp enough to slice right through my armor and cut me open by just grazing the edge."
He crouched again, rubbing his jaw in thought and absentmindedly smearing blood on his face. He wasn't leaving this behind. Not after finding it and feeling the pressure it gave off. But if he couldn't pocket it safely then he'd have to improvise.
Cade paced the chamber. He couldn't stuff the flake into his pockets. He couldn't wrap it in cloth—whatever edge this thing had would shear straight through. He needed a handle, a sheath, something that would bind it so it couldn't cut him or slide free.
Then he looked at the sap on his axe and a lightbulb went off in his head.
He hadn't wanted to touch the stuff at first. The glowing green oozed and glowed like some cartoon toxic waste. But it was undoubtedly sticky and he might be able to use it as glue.
Focusing on the sap he used [Identify].
Sap of the Blackflake Bastion Banyan — A viscous sap with faint luminescent properties due to the brimming vitality carried within.
That was surprisingly useful. Not a warning, about poison or how toxic the substance was. The sap was just so full of vitality that it glowed. Sticky, energetic vitality. It might hold the obsidian flake in place long enough for him to make something permanent.
He smeared the sap on the axe head, working it into the broken metal with his fingers despite the slight, prickling tingle where it touched his skin. The sap was tacky and elastic but he could tell that it was beginning to harden already.
He took a breath, set his jaw, and picked the flake up again by the bluntest edges he could find. Even held that way it felt like it would cut him at any moment. He positioned it into the broken chunk of battleaxe and pressed.
At first the shard met a slight resistance where its edges met metal. As Cade pushed just a bit harder the metal seemed to complain, resisting the foreign, glassy intruder but the obsidian didn't care as it cut into the metal.
The flake sliced a fine groove into the steel. It slid deeper as Cade pressed, the sap gushing slightly where the obsidian displaced it.
When Cade finally let go, the flake stayed. It didn't shear through or fall to the floor. It sat as if it had always belonged there—an ugly, imperfect blade grafted into a broken axe head.
He turned the axe over in his hands, feeling the balance change. The makeshift blade was terrifyingly sharp but seated firmly. The sap's glow had dulled but a faint green seam ran where the obsidian met metal, like a scar on the once perfect weapon.
Satisfied, Cade slid the axe back into its strap. The holster wasn't a sheath so much as a thick leather loop that sat beneath the axe head, catching the weight of the weapon while leaving the blade exposed. It kept the head from swinging freely against his leg—and now, thankfully, kept the obsidian edge from slicing him open with every step.
He looked around the chamber, half-expecting the tree to react to his theft of the flake. Nothing moved. The hollow stayed quiet, the pressure that had hummed at the start was still present but now it came from beside him where his axe rested in its strap.
Cade smiled, he liked the way the axe felt at his side now. He liked feeling the pressure it gave off.
Having accomplished his task down here, Cade grasped the aerial roots and began his climb back up the inner shaft of the banyan.
He half expected something to change—roots to twist, thorns to shoot inward, the tree to sense its treasure was gone and lash out in anger. But nothing happened. No rumble. No creaking groan. Just the sound of his breathing and the faint creak of the aerial roots as he climbed.
Climbing up wasn't easy, but it wasn't impossible either. The old Cade—the high school gym class dropout who'd never managed a single rope climb—would've been stuck at the bottom. But that Cade didn't have the System.
By the time he pulled himself free of the hollow and felt open air again his arms were burning. He paused, taking one last glance toward the opening behind him.
Then he began the descent down the outer branches.
It didn't take long.
When his boots finally hit solid ground again, Cade exhaled hard and looked up at the monstrous banyan behind him.
"Thanks for the loot," he muttered.
He turned, reoriented himself toward the light of the artificial sun, and started northwest—toward the strange multicolored clearing that had caught his eye.
Cade kept walking through the swamp, feet squelching with every step as the thick muck sucked at his boots. The multicolored clearing wasn't close—not even remotely. He estimated a couple of hours to get there, assuming he didn't run into anything dangerous along the way.
He scanned the trees around him and flicked his eyes over one of the twisted trunks, willing his [Identify] skill towards the tree.
Spinecap Alder — A gnarled wetland tree with black bark and internal toxin sacs. Wood is highly durable but toxic to ingest or burn.
He moved on, weaving between thick roots and splashing through ankle-deep water. The next tree he passed was broader, with thick, leathery leaves and a crown so heavy it sagged under its own weight.
Droopwillow Sentinel — A broadleaf swamp tree known for its resilient root system and mildly acidic sap.
Then a bush caught his eye. It was thick, its wide, glossy leaves surrounding thorny red berries.
Barbspike Briar — Thorny wetland shrub with mildly narcotic berries. Berries can be consumed to dull pain, but risk hallucinations and nausea.
Cade narrowed his eyes as he read over the description. These berries might be useful but he didn't want to risk hallucinating when anything could attack him out here.
He continued moving, testing the [Identify] skill on every strange plant he passed. There was no ping or audible click when the skill activated—no sensation of any kind. No mana cost or stamina drain. The System just somehow fed him knowledge and the more he used the skill, the more he wanted to figure out how it worked.
As he neared a particularly thick patch of reeds, something moved.
Cade froze. The rustling grew louder. A second later, something burst from the underbrush in a blur of shiny, segmented legs and glossy chitin.
It was a centipede. And not a small one. It was over a meter long and nearly half a meter wide. Dozens of legs clicked as it scrambled toward him, mandibles wide and twitching.
Cade quickly willed his [Identify] even as the insect charged at him.
Marsh-Keel Centipede — Level 5
A predatory swamp crawler known for its speed and aggression. Its venom is mild but highly effective against smaller prey.
Cade stepped back and lifted his axe but the centipede was already lunging. Its movement was fast as it no doubt hoped to finish this with one quick bite.
But Cade was faster.
He spun to the side, his body reacting to the lunging centipede, and brought the axe down in a wide arc. The blade, embedded with the obsidian flake, sliced clean through the centipede's midsection with almost no resistance.
The creature's upper and lower halves flopped to the mud.
Cade took a step back as the head section kept moving.
"Come on—"
The still-living upper half wriggled toward him, twitching and clawing through the muck. Its mouthparts snapped open and shut as it dragged itself forward in an attempt to bite at Cade's ankles.
Cade, grimacing, lifted the axe and drove the spike end through its head. Thankfully it went limp right after the spike hit home.
You have defeated Marsh-Keel Centipede — Level 5.
You have gained experience.
Cade stepped back, breathing a bit ragged. "That was disgusting."
He raised the axe slowly, turning it in his grip. The obsidian flake shimmered faintly, unmarred, not a single chip.
There was no question—the flake of obsidian had cut through the centipede as easily as it cut through his hand. The chitin gave no resistance at all. It had sliced like the creature was made of paper. When he'd followed up with the spike to finish the job, there had been more pushback as he felt the chitin buckle and break under the impact, but he felt no such impediment when he struck with the obsidian edge.
His voice came out low, almost a whisper.
"That shouldn't have been that easy."
He shook the insect's blood off of his axe and ran his thumb along the flat of the metal—careful to avoid the flake's edge—and swallowed hard before he kept moving.
That one centipede wasn't the last. Over the next hour, three more of the massive insects came for him, crawling from under roots and behind moss-covered boulders. The biggest was nearly 1.5 meters long and tougher than the rest, but none of them caught him off guard again and his axe made defeating them quite easy.
By the time the last one collapsed, Cade heard the System's chime.
Ding!
You have defeated Marsh-Keel Centipede — Level 6.
You have gained additional experience for killing a creature above your level.
Race: Human [G] has reached Level 6.
+1 to all stats.
"Nice," Cade said, rolling his shoulders as he looked up ahead. After walking for hours and fighting a few centipedes, he had finally made it to the edge of the multicolored clearing.
Through the trunks, the vibrant colors he'd seen earlier bloomed into view—red, blue, white, yellow. They were giant flowers.
He slowed his pace, moving cautiously as the last of the trees gave way.
Cade crouched low in the underbrush just at the edge of the clearing.
From this close, the colors were even more vivid. Hundreds of massive swamp flowers of all shapes and sizes bloomed in a chaotic bouquet. Some were as wide as manhole covers, others were as tall as street lights, their petals curling outward in layers of blue, red, purple, and golden yellow. The air was rich with their sweet, almost intoxicating scent.
But Cade barely noticed them now. Because just beyond the row of petals, something was fighting.
He heard it before he saw it—deep, guttural grunts, rhythmic and breathy, like bellows forced through a strained throat. Then came the crack of impact. Followed by a sound Cade was already too familiar with: the skittering of segmented legs on hard-packed dirt.
He dropped to a knee and crept forward through the plants at the treeline. The day was quickly growing dim as the artificial sun sank toward the west, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky. Light filtered down, painting everything in fading warmth.
Then he saw it.
At the center of the clearing, in a muddy flower-stomped area, was a massive lizard-like creature that was in the midst of fighting off a tide of centipedes.
It was easily three meters long, covered in glistening scales mottled green and black. Its body was low to the ground, muscular and broad, with thick legs and a whip-like tail that lashed through the air like a striking snake. Its head was blunt and powerful, with forward-facing eyes and a wide, snapping jaw.
The centipedes surrounding it were smaller than the ones Cade had killed, but they were numerous. At least twenty, maybe more, slithered and snapped around the lizard's bulk.
Cade narrowed his eyes and focused to [Identify] the lizard-like creature.
Tegziran, Burrow-Warden of the Bloom — Level 9
One of the Lords of the Swamp. Known for territorial aggression and fiercely protective instincts.
Cade's breath caught.
Another Lord.
He watched from the treeline as Tegziran fought, never straying far from the clearing's center. Even when a centipede broke off and tried to circle, the lizard only chased it a few meters before turning back.
It's protecting something, Cade realized.
In the center of the clearing, half-concealed by flowers, he spotted a mound of disturbed earth—a burrow, wide and deep. The flowers clustered around it were now stomped down and broken from the battle raging ahead. That was what Tegziran was guarding.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Its tail whipped out again, cracking like a gunshot. Cade flinched and quickly looked back over to the battle. He saw one of the centipedes go flying, its shell dented inward. In the next moment the tail connected cleanly with another and the centipede exploded in a cloud of twitching limbs and green ichor.
"Holy fuck," he whispered. "I do not want to get hit by that."
Tegziran pivoted, slashing with its claws. The chitin resisted, but the claws found the softer gaps between plates. The centipede writhed as the lizard dug its claws in and pulled the centipede's segments apart with brute force.
As the battle raged on Cade noticed that while Tegziran was clearly winning, the centipedes were still able to damage the Lord. It was bleeding from multiple thin cuts and punctures that lined its flanks and one of its legs dragged slightly.
It's tired, Cade thought. Wounded.
Then came the bite. Tegziran clamped its powerful jaws around a centipede and crunched. The insect thrashed, then went limp as the lizard spat out its mangled remains.
The field was littered now—broken centipede bodies, twitching limbs, splashes of dark blood staining the flower petals.
And then something changed.
Tegziran, just meters from finishing off one last centipede, suddenly stopped.
Its head snapped toward the burrow.
It dropped its attack, completely ignoring the injured insect, and sprinted back toward the clearing's center.
Cade leaned forward, puzzled.
What's it doing?
That's when the ground erupted.
A centipede burst from the dirt near the burrow. But this one was massive. At least two and a half meters long, dark green in color with a segmented body twice as thick as Cade's chest. Its mandibles were longer, serrated and glistening with venom, and the air shimmered around its wriggling limbs.
Cade quickly used [Identify].
Vine-Lasher Centipede — Level 10
A rare variant of the Marsh-Keel Centipede.
The creature reared up like a cobra, its front half lifting high into the air. Its many legs trembled with an unnatural rhythm.
Then, with a sudden snap, thick vines burst from the ground on either side of the lizard lord. They wrapped around Tegziran's midsection in an instant, coiling tight and pulling it off balance.
Cade's jaw dropped.
It cast a spell. Even the insects in this Tutorial could cast magic.
The vines tightened. But the lizard didn't thrash. It didn't roar.
Instead, a low hum filled the air. A guttural, vibrating chant rolled like thunder through clearing even reaching Cade with enough force to reverberate in his bones.
Then Tegziran opened its mouth and spat.
A ball of green goo launched from its throat, arcing faster than Cade could track. The globule struck the Vine-Lasher Centipede dead center.
The moment it hit, the centipede screeched.
Steam rose from its body. Cade saw the goo eating into its segmented plates—acid, without a doubt. The centipede tried to retreat, but it was already too late. Its middle section dissolved, legs liquefying as the substance devoured its body.
The front segment skittered away on instinct alone, mandibles twitching wildly, only making it a few meters before it collapsed. Dead.
Cade crouched, stunned. That hadn't been a fluke. Tegziran had waited—saved the attack for the biggest threat. The acid had ripped the centipede apart in seconds.
"That tail," Cade whispered, "the claws, the bite, and acid spit too?"
The lizard lord remained still, tangled in vines, breathing heavily. Blood dripped from its many wounds but the field around it was quiet once more.
Cade stayed crouched at the treeline, eyes fixed on the wounded lord.
His heart hammered in his chest. His instincts told him to flee and never look back. It would be suicide to try to fight this thing.
But the lord was tired and wounded. Its power was spent on defending against the centipedes. Cade questioned if this could be an opportunity to take down another Lord of the Swamp.
The question buzzed through his racing mind. On one hand, his quest demanded he kill the Lords of the Swamp. They were obstacles in this Tutorial and the sooner he took them down, the better. They'd only get stronger as time passed—just like the humans trapped here with them.
And this one? This might be the weakest it would ever be.
It was bleeding, exhausted, and still wrapped in the Vine-Lasher's roots. The opportunity was real.
But so was the danger.
Tegziran wasn't N'zhal. The snake had toyed with him, underestimated him. This lizard lord had shown no such arrogance against the centipedes. It had fought smart, fought aggressively, and fought with abilities Cade had no defense against.
He lifted his axe slightly, feeling the weight as he looked at the obsidian flake embedded within the head.
"That's cut through everything I've gone against so far," he whispered to himself.
But would it be enough?
He mentally replayed what he'd seen: the whipping tail that exploded centipedes into chunks of viscera, the claws that tore through chitin, the crushing bite—and that acid spit. Cade rubbed at the goosebumps rising along his arm.
If he got hit by that there wouldn't be anything left of him.
He wished—desperately—that he still had arrows. He'd tried pulling some from the boar's corpse before he left the banyan tree, but most had snapped or splintered. He'd broken more than a few just trying to un-wedge them. And the ones that had missed? Lost in the reeds.
"I should've looked harder," he muttered, annoyed at himself because right now, range would have been a godsend.
Cade looked up again. Tegziran, despite being tangled, wasn't trying to rip itself free. Instead, it had gone almost eerily still—eyes closed, chest rising and falling now in a slow rhythm.
Cade narrowed his eyes as he questioned what the Lord was doing.
Even from this distance Cade could see the bright wounds against its mottled skin. As he stared he could see the wounds were changing. Slowly knitting together, skin pulling tight over the many lacerations. Not fast enough to be immediate regeneration, but fast enough that waiting any longer would mean he'd lose the opportunity.
He couldn't let it finish. It was now or never.
His gaze swept the clearing. The multicolored flowers were enormous—tall enough to reach his waist, broad enough to hide behind. If he crouched low, he could move from bloom to bloom almost unseen.
He pictured weaving through the flowers, closing the distance, creeping up behind the lizard lord. A single, powerful blow with his sharpened axe right at a vulnerable spot—maybe the spine, maybe the neck, maybe the base of the tail.
If he hit something vital he might be able to kill it before it reacted.
Cade let out a slow, soft exhale. He needed to push himself. The fight with N'zhal had proved that he only really grew when he risked something. Without that fight, without his new titles, without the obsidian flake in his axe, he wouldn't be standing here now.
He swallowed hard. His mind was made up. He'd take the chance.
He crouched lower, sliding into the first row of flowers. Their thick petals brushed against his shoulders, their scents heavy and sweet, masking his own.
Eyes locked on Tegziran, Cade crept forward. Slow and as silent as he could be.
The lizard lord hadn't moved. Its eyes were still closed. The vines still wrapped it, though some strands had already begun to loosen.
Cade's heart drummed faster with each step. Sweat beaded along his spine despite the evening cool.
Why isn't it struggling? he wondered. Why isn't it trying to get out?
Did the healing require intense concentration? Could it not move while mending itself?
He didn't know—and he couldn't afford to care at the moment.
He shifted direction, angling toward the back of the lizard lord. He wasn't going anywhere near those jaws, and he absolutely wasn't risking the front where that acid spit could melt him into a bubbling puddle.
He moved flower to flower, pausing whenever Tegziran exhaled sharply or shifted slightly. But the lord never opened its eyes, never looked around, never showed any signs that it sensed his approach.
Cade was now only a few paces behind it. He tightened his grip on the axe. His pulse soared as his breath hitched. Time to push himself again. Time to kill the second Lord of the Swamp.
The scent of crushed flowers and blood filled his nose as he knelt behind the massive lizard lord. Up close, Tegziran was even more imposing. Its scaled body twitched occasionally, muscles rippling beneath torn skin. Cade could see several open wounds—deep ones—were closing right before his eyes. Up close the regeneration was fascinating as he stared at one long gash along its right side and watched as the edges pulled together.
Is it using a skill? he wondered. Or is this just how these Lords work? Either way, it didn't matter. If he continued to hesitate, he'd lose this chance.
He looked at the tail, it was massive. Even thicker up close than he'd expected. He remembered how it had exploded centipedes with a single strike. No way he was leaving that weapon attached to this thing.
He gripped the axe in both hands, knuckles white. The obsidian flake shimmered faintly in the fading sunlight. He raised it slowly, silently.
This was it.
One clean strike. Make it count.
Cade exhaled and swung.
The flake met the base of the tail with a wet crunch—and sank halfway through. The obsidian cut effortlessly but the steel got stuck in the flesh and muscle.
The lizard lord's eyes shot open. A bellow tore from its throat, loud enough to rattle Cade's bones. The vines jerked in response, snapping as Tegziran thrashed.
Cade gritted his teeth, yanked the axe free, and swung again—this time putting everything into the strike.
SHRAKT.
The blade carved through the remaining flesh, severing the tail.
Hot blood gushed from the wound, splattering the nearby flowers in thick crimson. The tail spasmed violently on the ground, twitching like a dying snake.
Tegziran let out another guttural roar, its body convulsing as the vines gave way, shredded by its strength. Cade didn't stop—he stepped forward and brought the axe down again, this time targeting the lizard's rear leg.
The flake bit deep, slicing into meat and grinding against bone. Cade felt the crack reverberate through his arms as the bone gave way under the pressure.
Another howl from the lizard shook the clearing.
Tegziran twisted free of the last of the vines and scrambled forward, flinging blood behind it. Its movement was clumsy, its back leg dragging. The severed tail left a grotesque trail as it flopped uselessly behind.
Cade stumbled back, his breath ragged, arms burning.
The lizard turned.
They locked eyes and for a split second, Cade's body locked up.
For a millisecond, Cade couldn't move. But in an instant the invisible pressure forcing his body to freeze shattered like glass, and Cade surged forward.
There was no time to question what just happened. The lord's jaw was already opening, and Cade saw the telltale ripple in its throat. It was charging up its acid spit.
He had no time, no room for hesitation.
He sprinted, pushing off with every ounce of strength. His muscles screamed but adrenaline drowned it out. In less than a second, Cade closed the distance.
Tegziran's eyes widened. The lord had clearly expected Cade to still be paralyzed from whatever strange force it had tried to exert.
Instead, Cade struck. He raised the axe one-handed and brought it down in a diagonal slash.
The obsidian flake sank as it bit deep into Tegziran's chest, slicing through the thick, scaled hide like it was nothing. Blood sprayed out in a fan, coating Cade's arm and face. The creature let out a choking hiss and tried to retreat.
But Cade stayed on it, hacking again and again with savage, relentless strikes.
The lord scrambled back, dragging its mangled leg, but Cade stayed close, refusing to give it even a second to build space.
Cade swung wildly, the obsidian edge carving through anything it touched. His aim wasn't perfect—he was tired and his muscles ached from his previous fight with N'zhal—but the sharpness of the blade made up for his flaws.
Tegziran snarled, finally snapping out of its shock. The lord shifted tactics and lashed forward with a front claw.
Cade didn't dodge in time.
The claw slammed into his ribs. His leather armor took the worst of it, but even with padding the strike landed hard. Cade felt the tearing scrape of talons nearly breaching the leather, followed by an explosion of pain and the sensation of being launched off his feet.
He hit the muddy ground with a wet thump, air blasted from his lungs. His ribs screamed and his vision swam.
But he still felt the axe in his hand.
Tegziran lunged, jaws open wide to bite down and finish him.
Cade saw the shadow fall over him and twisted instinctively, swinging the axe from the ground up at the oncoming maw.
The lizard saw the swing and tried to pull back—but it had already committed. The obsidian edge sheared through the lower jaw, cleaving off the front third in a spray of blood.
The beast reeled, shrieking in pain.
Cade rolled to his feet, his breath ragged and shallow. His ribs were definitely bruised—maybe cracked—but he could still move.
They locked eyes again.
This time he felt no pressure and without hesitation Cade charged. He closed the distance and brought the axe down in a heavy swing toward the base of Tegziran's neck.
The lord tried to dodge, but too slowly. The obsidian flake bit deep, severing muscle and tendon. Blood fountained from the wound.
Cade didn't stop.
He swung again and again and again.
The axe rose and fell, each strike slamming into the same spot, digging deeper through flesh, cartilage, and bone. Cade barely registered the blood splattering across his face and chest. He was focused only on the kill—on not giving this thing any chance to retaliate.
Then finally, mid-swing—
Ding!
You have defeated [Tegziran, Burrow-Warden of the Bloom – Level 10].
You have gained additional experience for killing a creature above your level.
Race: Human (G) has reached Level 7.
+1 to all stats.
Race: Human (G) has reached Level 8.
+1 to all stats.
Race: Human (G) has reached Level 9.
+1 to all stats.
Cade staggered back, his blood-slick axe dangling from one hand.
His body trembled—not just from exhaustion and adrenaline but from his own disbelief, and something deeper. Pride.
He did it.
He dropped to his knees in the torn petals and blood-soaked earth, breathing like a man who'd just sprinted through death itself.
"I did it," he murmured, voice hoarse and raw.
His chest rose and fell, slower and slower. Three levels. That was three levels at once.
He forced himself upright, closing the level-up messages.
Another screen took their place.
Tutorial Quest: Lords of the Swamp
Progress:
Lords Defeated: 2 of 8
Cores Obtained: 1 of 8
Cade stared at the notification, two Lords down.
His breath was finally starting to slow when he mentally closed the glowing quest message.
Cade stared down at Tegziran's enormous corpse. The great lizard lord was slumped over the trampled flowers, blood still leaking from its half-severed neck, sheared off jaw, and stump where Cade had severed its tail. The sight should've repulsed him.
Instead, he felt an odd sense of accomplishment.
He pushed the feeling aside, got to his feet and moved toward the body, axe still in hand. The quest had reminded him what needed to be done. His ribs throbbed with every breath, but he wasn't finished yet.
I need to make this quick.
Unlike with N'zhal, he didn't hesitate. Cade knelt beside the corpse and brought the obsidian blade down along the lizard's belly. There was no resistance. The edge slid cleanly through the thick, armored hide like it was freshly fallen snow.
A sharp, wet tearing sound filled the air as he pulled the blade down. Flesh parted. Heat and steam spilled out from the split cavity, along with the thick, wet stench of blood and bile.
Cade grit his teeth and reached inside, using the butt of his axe to move coiled intestines aside. His hand was slick and he muttered a curse under his breath as his fingers slipped on something rubbery.
That familiar sensation began to rise as he dug around in the corpse—a hum of pulling static, guiding him inward.
But this time it was different.
The feeling wasn't cold and dense like it had been with N'zhal's core. This sensation was warm and soothing. Almost inviting.
And yet, beneath the warmth, there was something else. Something subtler. A second impression Cade couldn't quite place.
He followed the sensation deeper, parting tissue and shifting organs aside until his hand brushed against something smooth and hard.
His fingers wrapped around the core—and as before, the moment he made contact, the System responded.
Would you like to claim Lord Tegziran, Burrow-Warden of the Bloom's territory as your own? (Y/N)
Cade didn't even bother pausing this time.
"Yes," he said aloud.
The next screen appeared instantly.
Error. A System Core is required to claim territory in the Tutorial. Claim attempt failed.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
"Right," Cade muttered. "I figured… but I had to try."
The gentle warmth from the core dimmed, fading from his hand. The buzz vanished. Just like before.
He sighed and mentally closed the message.
Tutorial Quest: Lords of the Swamp
Progress:
Lords Defeated: 2 of 8
Cores Obtained: 2 of 8
He pulled the core free from the corpse. It came loose with a sick shlrrrk and Cade stepped back, cradling it carefully.
Tegziran's core pulsed with a soft greenish light—almost white, like mint or pale jade under a sunbeam. It glowed gently in his palm, casting his blood-covered fingers in green hues.
It was beautiful. Nothing like N'zhal's. The snake's core had been pitch black, sucking in light around it like a shard of void. This was something else.
With the core secured, Cade looked toward the center of the clearing—the trampled mound that had once been a protected burrow. Tegziran had fought to protect this place. Whatever was down there had to be important.
Cade gripped the glowing core tighter and approached the entrance.
It was wide enough to crawl into comfortably—even for something Tegziran's size. But when Cade crouched down and peered inside, darkness greeted him. The last light of the day barely reached into the burrow, and everything beyond the slope was swallowed by black.
He hesitated.
Should I even go down there?
There could be traps. Or worse—another beast. One just as strong, or stronger.
Cade glanced down at the softly glowing core in his hand, at least he had a light source.
Curiosity got the better of him and he crouched low and entered the burrow, careful not to hit his head on the compacted dirt ceiling. The ground sloped steeply downward, the tunnel twisting and turning at sharp, irregular angles.
He frowned.
Tegziran looked too big to move through this very easily. Maybe it dug this out when it was smaller?
The deeper he went, the warmer and narrower the tunnel became. Cade crouched further, breathing slow and steady, his axe in his right hand and the glowing core held out like a lantern in his left.
After five minutes of descending into the earth, the tunnel widened again just in time for Cade to see a faint glow ahead. Aquamarine light pulsed gently, illuminating the walls in dim, flickering waves.
He stepped forward and the tunnel opened into a large chamber. And what he saw stopped him in his tracks.
The walls, floor, and ceiling were etched with thousands of lines, crudely scratched into the packed earth. They were glowing—faintly but steadily—with aquamarine light that pulsed outward in rhythmic waves coming from the center.
It started from a single point on the floor. The light spread like a heartbeat—pushing out through the lines across the ground, along the walls, and up into the ceiling. A soft, eerie thrum seemed to rise with each pulse.
And at the center of the chamber—at the very origin point of all the glowing lines—sat an egg.
It was the size of a chicken egg, resting on a small pedestal of compacted earth.
Cade's breath caught. He didn't know what he was looking at. But he was absolutely sure that it wasn't just an egg.
Cade stared at the egg for a long, breathless moment before using his [Identify].
Viscount of the Swamp (fetus) — ??
Ding.
Hidden Tutorial Quest: Viscount of the Swamp
By great effort—or dumb luck—you have found what should not yet be seen: the unhatched Viscount of the Swamp. If allowed to hatch, it will mature into an engine of hunger and ruin. Should you end it now you will spare countless lives and give humanity a much needed edge in this Tutorial.
Objective:
Disrupt the conduit-lines, then destroy the egg and kill the unhatched Viscount before it has a chance to hatch.
Reward:
Guaranteed System Core and Class (rare) assignment.
Cade froze as he began to read the unexpected quest.
Then slowly—almost on instinct—he took a step back out of the pulsing chamber. His heartbeat felt loud in his ears. He had just gotten a hidden quest with the exact two things he wanted most in this entire damned Tutorial.
A core. Guaranteed.
A rare class. Guaranteed.
His pulse hammered harder.
Sasesh had bragged about getting a rare class. Everyone in the group had marveled at what he could do, the feats he could perform. Rare meant strong. Rare meant utility. Rare meant power in every fight and more with every level.
And this quest just offered one to him on a silver platter. But instead of exuberance, Cade felt a pang of apprehension deep in his gut.
"So… what's the catch?" he muttered out loud.
Because of course there was a catch. A big one. He had to destroy what was essentially an unborn baby.
His stomach twisted.
It wasn't a foe. Not a monster trying to kill him. It wasn't even a creature that could run.
It was an egg.
A defenseless egg.
His mind kicked back to the Siltscale Skinklets. The hollow feeling after killing them—after watching their tiny bodies explode under his makeshift club. And they could at least move. They could flee. They had instincts and panic and a fighting chance to escape.
But this? This wasn't a fight. This was basically infanticide.
Cade swallowed, throat tight.
The System wanted him to do it. The wording of the quest was too convenient. The rewards are too tailored, too perfect. It was the ideal carrot dangling in front of him—what he wanted, what he needed, all bundled neatly as a "reward."
"But the class is assigned," he muttered. "Meaning I don't get to choose."
The others had said they got to pick their classes, they got to decide their roles.
An assigned class meant he was giving up that choice. What if the System shoved him into a role he hated? What if it locked him into some path he despised, some flavor of magic or combat that didn't suit him?
He'd escaped his old life—a job that had suffocated him, boxed him in, stolen years from him even though he had thought it was what he wanted. He wasn't going to let the System stuff him into another box just because he felt desperate.
His eyes drifted back to the egg. Aquamarine lines pulsed faintly across its surface.
"This seems too easy," he whispered. There was no danger. No fight. No risk of death. Just crush the egg. A simple but horrifying task and yet the reward was immense.
So why is the System offering it so freely?
That thought dug into him harder than anything else.
He looked again at the quest window—longer this time. And the more he stared, the more his gut twisted.
He realized what really bothered him: It wanted him to kill something helpless and it wanted to tempt him into doing so.
Cade closed his eyes and took a steady breath.
He'd adapted quickly to this world. Killing monsters wasn't something he enjoyed, but the thrill of surviving, of pushing himself was. Fighting gave him something tangible to chase and the intense feeling of accomplishment he got after surviving his most recent battles was like nothing he's ever felt. But that was different. In those instances killing was a necessity for his survival. Killing whatever was in this egg wasn't necessary, at least not right now.
After a long, heavy moment, Cade opened his eyes.
"I won't do it," he whispered.
But he also couldn't just leave it. The quest text made it painfully clear that if the egg hatched, a lot of people would die. He couldn't walk away knowing that. Doing nothing would be the same as killing every person the Viscount eventually tore apart.
He ran a hand through his hair, breath unsteady. There has to be a third option. Something between murdering a helpless creature and letting it grow up to murder countless people.
His gaze drifted back to the glowing chamber, the pulsing lines with the egg at the center.
Cade exhaled sharply and he knew what he had to do. He wasn't going to kill the creature but he wasn't going to abandon the problem either.
He would find his own answer.
Cade strode into the chamber and continued until he was just outside the glowing circle, staring down at the egg.
He hated the box the System had tried to shove him into—to kill or be killed. But what if he made a different move?
He walked forward slowly, cautiously, past the inner circle. His boots echoed lightly on the compressed soil as he approached the egg. The glow from the aquamarine conduit-lines lit everything in a soft pulse of light.
A static buzz in the air grew as he approached, tingling across his skin and fingertips. As he closed in on the egg he knelt to inspect it closer. He looked at the glowing shell—at the faint traces of aquamarine etched across its smooth, leathery surface. Then he looked at the pulsing lines beneath it.
That's when he realized something was off. The lines weren't feeding into the egg. They were flowing around it.
He blinked and leaned closer. His eyes adjusted to the flickering glow. The epicenter wasn't the egg—it was below it. A point directly underneath, embedded in the tiny pedestal the egg sat on.
The aquamarine light was radiating upward from that point, and the egg was merely resting atop it.
Cade narrowed his eyes.
The quest had told him to disrupt the conduit-lines. He'd assumed that meant breaking them somewhere along the walls. But if the real source was below, then maybe he wouldn't have to break anything in here afterall.
His curiosity flared and he reached forward, pressing his palm gently against the egg.
It was warm and solid despite its leathery appearance. His fingers could feel the faint rhythm of power vibrating through it with every pulse of light. That now-familiar buzz intensified instantly, humming along his nerves.
His axe remained at the ready in his right hand but nothing attacked him. The egg didn't crack or react. It just pulsed.
He pressed slightly harder, testing, and the egg easily shifted. Cade blinked in surprise. He had expected it to be anchored in place with some sort of magic. But it wasn't, it had just been set on top of whatever was emitting the light.
He hesitated for a moment but then threw caution to the wind and lifted. The egg came free easily but immediately afterwards the chamber exploded in light.
An aquamarine pulse surged up from the floor so intense it blinded his sight and caused Cade to stagger back.
The light vanished just as fast as it had come, leaving Cade blinking in near darkness. All of the conduit-lines around the walls, floor, and ceiling had gone out all at once.
The pulse was gone and the chamber was dark.
Except for one thing.
Underneath where the egg had rested was a small, perfectly smooth teardrop-shaped object no bigger than his thumbnail. It was crystalline and faintly translucent, glowing with a soft inner light the same aquamarine as the conduit-lines had been.
Cade stared.
"Okay what the hell are you?"
He used [Identify] on instinct.
Primordial Bead Dewdrop — ??
Cade stared down at the Primordial Bead Dewdrop, its aquamarine glow faint but steady. [Identify] returned no information just like with the Flake of the Obsidian Keystone. But he didn't need the System to feel the subtle but undeniable pressure bleeding off the crystal. A similar but distinctly different weight than the flake carried. Not just power but a presence all its own. This wasn't just a random artifact. This was Tegziran's treasure, just as the flake had belonged to N'zhal.
Cade set his axe down, keeping the egg cradled in his left hand, and reached out with his right. His fingers closed around the dewdrop's cool surface—
A sudden pulse of aquamarine light surged up his arm, across his chest, and into the egg like a living river. It didn't hurt, rather it restored.
His breath hitched as energy washed through every fiber of his body. The ache in his legs dissolved. The tension in his shoulders loosened. He felt as if he'd just woken from ten perfect hours of sleep, eaten a rich breakfast, and chased it with strong coffee—all in a single heartbeat.
He felt alive and alert, for the first time in days he was clear-headed and sharp.
The light faded from view and was replaced by a screen popping up in his vision.
Hidden Tutorial Quest: Viscount of the Swamp
Progress: Disrupt the conduit-lines — Complete
Objective: Destroy the egg and kill the unhatched Viscount before it has a chance to hatch.
Cade stared at the quest window. Then dismissed it with a blink.
"No," he muttered under his breath. "Still not doing that."
He gently tucked the dewdrop into a pocket. Then pulled out Tegziran's core. With the dewdrop gone the core was his only source of light in the burrow.
He slotted his axe back into the leather strap at his side. One hand now held the egg, the other the core and he turned his back on the chamber and started walking.
Even with the core in hand, the path seemed darker than before, like the burrow knew it had been violated.
Cade paused once, near the upper tunnel, debating whether to camp in the safety of the hollow. But after that pulse went through him, sleep felt impossible. His blood was humming with energy as it pumped through his veins.
So he stepped out into the open air.
Night had fallen fully while he'd been below. Cool wind kissed his skin. Mist clung low to the ground, curling around the once vibrant flowers. The stars overhead blinked between veils of clouds.
He didn't know where he was going yet—but he couldn't stay here.
Cade moved west.
The wetlands stretched out beneath a blanket of night, quiet but not dead. Insects buzzed low in the reeds. Far-off creatures chirped in pulsing rhythms. Mist coiled above the shallow water, thick enough to distort shapes in the distance but not enough to slow his pace. The soft glow of Tegziran's core lit his path in muted mint green, but Cade didn't need to see far.
Nothing approached him.
Not a single beast or bloated insect hissed from the underbrush. No low growls or rustling of hidden predators.
He didn't like it. The lack of resistance felt unnatural compared to the last few days. It wasn't just the quiet—but like the creatures out here were deliberately avoiding him.
He cradled the egg close to his chest now, wrapped in the crook of his arms like a precious bundle. Warmth radiated from it in soft pulses, and every so often, he felt a subtle shift within.
Something was definitely alive in there as it squirmed and wriggled.
Cade's thumb brushed against the curved shell. Smooth and crisscrossed by thin aquamarine lines that no longer glowed, but still seemed to thrum faintly beneath the surface.
He kept walking, westward into the unknown, and the hours passed without event. The air remained cool and damp. With no obstacles, Cade made good distance before dawn's first light broke behind him.
He welcomed the return of visibility. The colors of the world reasserting themselves after a long night in monochrome.
Even after walking all night, he wasn't tired and that realization made him pause, frowning slightly.
Every time fatigue should have slowed him—muscles sore, hunger gnawing, thirst rising—it simply didn't. Like something inside him had reset. A subtle refresh that bloomed from his chest and rippled outward.
And then he felt it happen again. A barely perceptible pulse.
The dewdrop, secure in his pocket, activated once more. Cade felt it hum against his body as the sensation moved through him—like warm wind under his skin, brushing away all weariness. It rolled into the egg as well, and for a moment he felt something strange: a mirrored response, like the life inside the egg acknowledged it.
"The dewdrop must still be feeding into the egg through me" Cade murmured.
There was no answer but he could feel it now. The Primordial Bead Dewdrop was alive, in its own way—or at least active, and it was immensely powerful.
Maybe too powerful.
"If this one item can remove my fatigue and satisfy my hunger and thirst then it is easily the most broken item in the whole Tutorial," Cade smiled wryly. "Not that I'm complaining."
By midday, the sun was high and warm. Cade spotted movement multiple times during the morning but every time something noticed him, it fled.
Not just fled. It ran, panicked. Like prey sensing a predator they didn't dare challenge.
He narrowed his eyes. The egg was still tucked safely in his arms. His axe hadn't been drawn in hours as he felt no aggression or threat approach.
And yet, even a wide-backed crawler three times his size had turned and skittered into the marsh rather than stand its ground.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"Is this your doing?" he asked the egg quietly, not expecting a response.
The creature inside softly twitched but Cade brushed it off as coincidence.
He kept moving, adjusting the egg in his arms now and then. He walked until the second night fell. And still, he felt no need for food or sleep. The dewdrop pulsed with unfailing rhythm, each beat rushing through him like a revitalizing wind.
But not all was unchanged. Cade could feel over the course of the day the pressure from the obsidian flake had shifted.
At first, it was almost imperceptible. A fluctuation in the air around his hip where the axe rested. The usual outward pulse of sharpness and dominance had grown more focused. As if it had stopped broadcasting its pressure in a sphere around him and instead started focusing.
Focusing on the egg.
Cade dismissed it during the day but as the night deepened and he kept walking, the feeling intensified, refined. Like the flake recognized and reacted to the egg.
He let it be. Whatever reaction was happening between the items hadn't harmed or helped the egg, at least not that he could tell.
He walked through that second night in solitude, mist curling low and the moon's faint light filtering through tangled trees. He still saw no predators and felt no fatigue.
By the time the fifth dawn of the Tutorial broke and sunlight crept across the swamp's eastern horizon, something changed.
The egg stirred. It twitched, hard enough for Cade to stop mid-step and look down.
A tremor passed through it, then another, and another.
"...Oh no," Cade said softly.
He crouched beside a broad, flat stone, stamped down the moss with his foot, and carefully set the egg down on the surface.
Tiny cracks began to spider across the aquamarine lines, and Cade slowly reached for his axe.
The egg twitched again, more violently this time. A shiver passed through the shell, and faint lines of aquamarine light flickered along the surface—brief sparks of glow returning to the old cracks like veins recharging with blood.
Cade stepped back a pace, axe held low but ready.
"This is it," he whispered.
The once-dormant lines then blazed to life.
They lit up like rivers of aquamarine—thin, elegant, and beautiful. The aquamarine pulsed outward from the center of the shell, tracing every fracture as it split wider. Light spilled through the cracks in rhythmic bursts, timed with the beating of something alive inside.
The Primordial Bead Dewdrop stirred in Cade's pouch. He didn't touch it, but he felt it activate—a surge of energy radiating from it like a sympathetic heartbeat. In the same instant, the pressure from the obsidian flake inside his axe spiked.
The two forces didn't harmonize.
They collided.
Cade stumbled back, grimacing as the air around him thickened. Invisible tension rippled across the clearing—pressure and power clashing like opposing tides. One cold and sharp, the other warm and hungry.
He squinted at the egg while bearing down at the pressure exuded by the two items he carried.
"Are they affecting the egg as it hatches?" he managed to mutter.
He had no answer—only the sensation of a delicate equilibrium unraveling, two ancient predators circling the same prey.
The egg cracked again. Louder this time.
Hairline fractures burst outward, dividing the surface in jagged segments. From within came a sound—not a roar or a cry but a soft hiss.
Then silence.
Cade held his breath.
A small snout pushed through the cracks.
Black, sleek, shiny and definitely reptilian.
The snout wiggled slightly, then pushed harder, breaking through the shell with deliberate force. A second crack split the top of the egg. A shard of shell popped loose, and then—
With a wet shuck, the creature's head emerged.
Gleaming jet-black scales covered its face, smooth and wet. Tracing along its black skin were veins of aquamarine light, glowing faintly beneath the surface.
The eyes opened next.
Two large, radiant aquamarine orbs, wide and round with vertically slitted pupils focused directly on Cade.
For a long moment, they just stared at each other.
Cade's axe remained in his hand, but his fingers loosened around the handle. He felt no threat. Nothing of the hostile creature the System had tried to warn him about.
The only thing he saw in the little creature's eyes was an intense curiosity.
The creature blinked slowly. Then began wiggling forward, dragging the rest of its small body free of the cracked shell. Limbs stubby but coordinated, tail thick and twitching.
It was a baby alligator.
Its entire body shimmered with slick scales so dark they seemed to drink the light. Glowing aquamarine veins traced along its back and tail like natural runes, and its claws clicked faintly on the moss covered stone as it crawled forward—then turned and began eating the eggshell, crunching it with adorable effort.
Cade blinked and the axe dropped from his hand.
"You've got to be fucking with me," he muttered.
The alligator paused mid-bite, lifted its little snout, and looked at him again.
Then it gave a tiny huff, like a sneeze, and continued munching on the shell.
Without hesitation Cade used [Identify].
Aquelion, Viscount of the Swamp — Level 1
Infant alligator scion.
Cade exhaled slowly. "Scion," he murmured.
The word struck something in his memory. A scion wasn't just any offspring. It was a successor. A being born to inherit a legacy. This tiny gator, freshly hatched, had a destiny carved ahead.
But it was so freaking adorable.
Small jaws. Wide eyes. Scales like obsidian glass. And when he finished devouring the last of his shell, he turned and waddled toward Cade with an eager, lopsided gait.
"You don't look like the engine of humanity's doom," Cade said to the little gator.
Aquelion tilted his head and made a sound halfway between a squeak and a chirp.
Against every instinct, Cade extended one hand. "Easy, now…"
The baby gator shuffled forward and butted his snout gently into Cade's palm.
It was soft and surprisingly warm. Not the cold and damp he'd expected of a newly born gator.
Cade gave him a few slow head pats, and Aquelion leaned into it, his tail wagging back and forth. Then, without warning, he spun in a tiny excited circle, nearly tripping over his own feet, and gave a triumphant little growl like a cub trying to roar.
Cade chuckled.
"I can't kill you," he said aloud. "I really can't. It would be like murdering a puppy and what kind of monster could do that."
In that moment he knew that killing Aquelion wasn't just morally wrong. It would be like snuffing out a spark that hadn't even had the chance to ignite.
Ding.
Hidden Tutorial Quest Updated: Viscount of the Swamp — A Forked Path
By negligence or choice you have allowed the Viscount of the Swamp to hatch. If allowed to mature alone, it will become an engine of hunger and ruin against humanity.
You stand at a crossroads. End its life now and buy humanity time, or side with the beastkin and shepherd the scion to its ancestral training grounds.
Objective (choose one):
Cull the scion by killing the infant Viscount.
Shepherd the scion and lead the infant Viscount to its ancestral training grounds.
Reward:
Culling the scion will guarantee a System Core and Class (rare) assignment.
Shepherding the scion will grant access to the training dungeon Cynthia's Legacy.
Cade stared at the prompt for a brief moment but this time, he didn't hesitate.
He looked at Aquelion, who had rolled over on his back and was now chewing on one of his own claws in open wonder.
The little gator stopped, looked up at Cade with those bright eyes, and made a content chirping sound.
Cade smiled faintly.
"Let's go find your training grounds."