“Hey. Hey? Hey, you want— You want to take a look at this!?” Kyle almost had to shout to catch Ameryth’s attention from the edges of her entourage.

Two of the figures who had arrived alongside her, Hatrak, Krirk, Cathy, and a half a dozen other people had flocked to her side. They all wanted to speak to her, or she wanted to speak to them. If Kyle waited his turn, he would be standing here tomorrow morning.

He held out an inky red feather and, when she looked, added, “Before more of your students eat theirs? It’s supposed to be a ‘boon.’”

Her eyebrows quirked up. She looked around and picked Delilah and a girl he didn’t know out of the crowd with ease—the only two people to have eaten their boons so far.

An invisible force tugged at the feather and he let go. It levitated over to her gesturing hand. She inspected it without touching, twitching to rotate it, then passed it on to a woman who stood behind her, and who looked completely out of place on the hill.

She had to be around sixty, going by the graying light brown curls she had tied up into a bun, and she’d worn a loose summer sweater into the Tower that didn’t even cover her shoulders.

She wasn’t paying attention to them. Her left arm was wrapped around her midsection to support her elbow, fingers pressed to her lips as she surveyed the scene. When the feather floated into her vision, she blinked and gasped, “Of course!,” like it answered all of her questions. She grabbed it and held it in front of her nose.

Ameryth gave Kyle a small nod of approval and turned on Cathy.

“We may have made a pact.”

“May have made a pact? With whom?” She faced Hatrak. “Are you a spirit?”

“I— Kah. It is complicated?”

“Not that kind of pact! I mean, there was a spirit, but we— Delilah— Micah—” Cathy stumbled over her words and took a deep breath. “That is to say, after they attacked, we found ourselves in a position where we could demand recompense. We demanded boons as a private settlement of sorts?”

Ameryth’s expression barely twitched. Was that good? Bad? Did she approve? Would the city approve? Not that he cared.

“Students,” she amplified her voice. “I am told you have bargained for boons. I will not confiscate these yet, but I advise you not to consume them until an expert has deemed it safe to do so.”

Cathy nodded and leaned sideways to look at said expert. “They are …” she began to say but frowned when she saw the woman staring intently at the feather. She fidgeted and her voice became uncertain. “Uhm, they are supposed to be imbued with a protective intent? And be roughly as strong as five levels in a Class, madam …?”

“I could see that. The feather is positively asking for permission on a deep, spiritual level,” she hummed and shut her eyes. “I’m not sure what it is asking permission for, but it is inviting us to find out. How … exciting.”

“Useless.” Ameryth snatched the feather out of her hand and handed it back to Kyle.

He held his hands up and took a step back. “No thanks. I don’t wanna be cursed. You could probably show that to the city as evidence or something, am I right?”

For the first time since she’d arrived, Ameryth seemed to actually focus on him rather than attempt to keep one eye on everywhere at once. She briefly let her guard slip as she leaned in and murmured, “Are you sure?”

She didn’t deny that the city might want to see it. Kyle shrugged. “Consider it part of my contribution to your little research project. Besides, I doubt the good doctors would appreciate me taking weird boons in addition to light drugs.”

“No, I suppose not. Thank you, Kyle.”

“Project?” the woman stepped over, stumbled over a clump of grass, and swayed left and right to regain her balance. Cathy and Hatrak made distressed noises and awkwardly held their arms out to catch her, but she made it on her own. She sidled up to Ameryth and glanced from her to Kyle, to his glove, and back. “Artificial sorcery? Have you decided—”

“No. I have not. And I would prefer if you could lend us your aid now rather than discuss this. They mentioned a gateway. I think I sense traces of something over there. Go investigate?”

The woman followed the dismissive gesture of her hand with a vacant expression. “I suppose … Esther would really be better suited for this.” She grinned and gripped her skirt as she began to hike up the hill. “She’ll be so jelly.”

Ameryth conjured a shimmering ward around the feather and tucked it in her pouch.

His insides squirmed as he watched it disappear. Not because he wanted it—he wanted no part of whatever that thing had to offer. But it was valuable, and now he’d only walk away from this with two new items of dubious worth to replace his old ones.

He told himself, Its what a good patriot would do. Still, he needed a distraction.

“Nice armor,” Kyle scoffed. “You looked real’ scary.”

Ameryth sighed. “That wasn’t my armor. Well, it was once, before it broke. She …” She followed the woman with her eyes for a moment and shook her head. She half-turned to Hatrak, half-lingered on him. If there is nothing else?, her expression read.

Now, his insides squirmed for a completely different reason. “Thanks for showing up,” he forced the words out in a mumble. “Even if you were like, half an hour late.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes, which meant he watched the lady inch her way around a patrol of soldiers. She threw her arms up, said something, and laughed on her own.

Kyle frowned, a thought forming in his head.

“I have literally done nothing so far, so you have nothing to thank me for. If there had been a Garden Greatape, I would have been overprepared to vanquish it, but I suppose I should not be surprised that my students could—”

“Wait.” He pointed. “Is that your mom?”

Ameryth froze mid-sentence and gave him a look of such indignation that he struck the very thought from his mind. Nope. Not her mom.

“Thank you for the boon, Kyle. You would not believe how glad I am to see all of you are well. We will talk later.”

Message received. He turned on his heels and left her to her diplomatic meeting with the foreigners. Protecting the Five Cities really did take precedence over his two cents.

“They weren’t just a Garden Greatape,” Cathy began to explain as he wandered off. “They were a shapeshifter of sorts, but maybe Hatrak here could share more …”

Her voice trailed off as they went in opposite directions. He marched down the hill, passing by similar conversations.

“You must have a lot of experience fighting monsters from the Gardens, then,” Delilah was saying.

Sarah almost cut her off, her voice curt, “How do you live in the Tower anyway?” She sat on a boulder and awkwardly hugged her stomach. The Pretender had slashed her and she’d only splashed some healing potion on the worst of the wounds. The bird nurses had patched her up.

“We walk only out to food get, or on scouting missions to go,” Pijeru said.

“Yeah, but out from where? Do you live in a city? A— a tree? Are you nomads? How are you not overrun by monsters every day?”

“I understand not …” Pijeru glanced from one girl to the other. Kyle did the same as he walked by. “We live of course in a safe zone? Know you that not?”

To her credit, Sarah immediately bluffed, “Of course, but I’ve never heard of one that could house millions. Tuhrie said there were millions of your people. Are there?” She forced the conversation onward.

She really was awesome. His eyes lingered on their group, but he forced himself to go.

“Yeah, but I don’t ruin the food in the process,” Brent was explaining to a soldier as he chopped bell peppers, only using his wounded arm to gingerly hold them in place. “Alchemists want to fit everything into a bottle, or pill, or salve. I want to make a meal, so I gotta’ lean more heavily on mana than they do.”

Kyle hurried up and stumbled to a stop against the stone slab. “You wanna recite all of our textbooks to the things with perfect memory?” he grumbled.

“Relax.” Brent grinned down at him and bit into a piece of bell pepper. It crunched as he chewed. “They don’t even have mana.”

Kyle frowned at the soldiers setting up makeshift grills and pots. Their heads were tilted toward him, clearly listening in because he wasn’t making an effort to keep his voice down.

“They have Classes and Paths, don’t they? If they aren’t lying, then they’re idiots. Either way, explaining shit to them is a dumb move.”

“Nah. They know. You would, too, if you talked to them. You give some, you get some, y’know? Want to help us out here?” He pointed the remaining half of the bell pepper strip down.

Kyle circled the slab of stone to the crates, eyeing their bird heads. The bonfire light licked along their silhouettes, red and orange and yellow on green feathers. Their shaded, nearly human eyes stared down their giant beaks back at him.

This had to be a nightmare. They looked like they could turn feral at any moment and start pecking out eyes or tearing off strips of skin.

This was a nightmare and he would wake up in three … two … one …

Kyle crouched without taking his eyes off them. His hands found the cool, condensated glass of the water bottles. He lifted two up and tore his eyes away.

Still awake. Fuck, he cursed five times in rapid succession.

To Brent, he said, “No thanks. I’m going to go check on the [Giantslayer].”

The big guy chuckled and pointed the piece of bell pepper at him. “If anyone would get the Class—”

“Yeah.” It’d be him.

The glass bottle thumped onto the wooden table. Kyle planted himself on the opposite end of the bench from him and plopped his own bottle open. He held it up to the light for Micah to see, waited for his nod of approval, and took a sip.

“Ahh.” Cold, unpoisoned water and a seat. Just what he needed.

After a minute, Micah reached out for his bottle to drink. He wiped his mouth and mumbled, “Thanks.”

They watched the crowds in silence. The evening grew darker and their classmates flocked to the bonfire and cooking station, though mostly to chat and steal bits of food rather than to help.

Krirk stole Pijeru away from the half-circle of students who badgered her with questions, only to lead her up to Ameryth and that other lady to do the same.

Cathy looked lost as she wandered away, glancing back every now and then. The adults were talking. They must have sent her away.

Another group formed from the loose crowd between the cooks and nurses, soldiers and students comparing dance moves. Bird dances apparently involved a lot of jumping and spinning. They even mimicked the sound of odd, energetic music, including what might have been instruments, but it had that same hollow crackling quality to it that Tuhrie’s singing had had.

Rowan chirped as he fluttered by, heralding the arrival of a group that trudged up the Root road, alongside the cart. It rolled on its own, laden to the brim with recovered packs, equipment, and even some loot—that giant scythe the Pretender had rent lay on a wrapping of cloth across it.

Something about the sight of loot tickled his memories, and he searched the group of eight and the cart, but he couldn’t spot what he was looking for.

The fourth figure who had arrived alongside Ameryth, as well as the simulacrum of the woman herself, shepherded them. They were as underdressed as the rest.

The figure was a woman about Ameryth’s own age, and she looked like she’d thrown a gambeson and some magical trinkets over office attire. She at least carried a machete and another large medical case with her, so she had to know how to give first aid.

Ameryth’s simulacrum stood out the most. She groaned and turned to walk backward ahead of the group, complaining, “Faster. So I can die already.” Kyle didn’t know how simulacra were supposed to act, but he got the feeling Ameryth wasn’t good at making hers.

Their classmates hurried when they neared the hill but didn’t stray far from the cart. Golsa and Lukas retrieved a few items and dropped them on their table in passing: a backpack, some pouches, a few of his throwing knives, and the empty bottles of stamina tea.

“She actually came.” Lukas glanced from the real Ameryth to them. “Has she said anything?”

“Just to hold off on eating the feathers for now, until she, or maybe we, can get an expert to check them. She’s still having a chat with bird-Cathy and the sergeant. Someone will probably be along to boss us around soon.”

“Right. Uh, okay. I guess we have to meet up for the loot distribution tomorrow anyway? We could go talk to the guards or … someone.”

Kyle gave a dismissive shrug.

Lukas lingered, not quite looking at them, but looking like he had something else to say. “Good— Good work, you two.” He rapped his knuckles on the table and left.

He was acting off. Then again, that was all of them.

Kyle waited a few minutes and said, “They’re talking about safe zones, you know? The bird people apparently live in one. And Brent is asking about bird magic. You sure you don’t want to go play twenty questions?”

Micah pressed his face into the collar of his school jacket. His voice sounded raspy and weak, like he had a bad cold, “They hate me.”

“Yeah …” Kyle didn’t know what that was about. “To be fair, they did tried to kill us all. They were probably just being sore losers. You were the only one who could fight back.”

He gently shook his head and stayed silent.

Well. I tried. Kyle thought Micah had survived worse than this, but he had been in a bad mood ever since Anne and Ryan had shoved knives in his back. He was a year or two younger than him, too, for whatever that was worth. He supposed they all had their ways of dealing with nearly being murdered by a bunch of maniacs.

He drank another sip, sat back, and watched the uncivilized party. Even when it was Northerners, he was on the outside looking in.

[Grand Summoner level 19!]

[Carer level 2!]

[Skill — Swarm Control obtained!]

They tumbled into the blistering heat of an empty cavern illuminated by orange light. Three Kobolds squawked and startled at their appearance—immediately spotted. Some of her teammates stumbled to their knees and had to pick themselves up.

“Formation,” Lisa made her body bark the command. “Sam, mosh!”

It sprinted at the enemies.

“Aye, [Swarm Control],” she made her body say as they rushed after it, but they only caught two of the Kobolds. The third ran into the larger chamber and screamed to sound an alarm. The Kobold camp reacted like a kicked hornet’s nest, monsters crying out and moving about the tunnel.

“Aye, [Magic String],” Frederick said with a bewildered note, the last one to shuffle in line after he had picked himself off the ground.

“Aye, [Items: Cross-set Synergy].” Jason sounded like he could barely contain his relief and excitement.

She frowned when he stepped in front of her. His gambeson was no longer pitch black as it had been in the Theatre, instead depicting the deep blues and oranges of a late summer dusk. Had that stylized sun always been there? It stayed in place as he moved, like it was pointing somewhere, but where …? The Towers had no cardinal directions.

The hints of golden filigree, like weeds, were definitely new. His gambeson had to be a set item. His new Skill was making it synergize with his new Sundance Greaves.

It reminded her uncomfortably of Garen.

“Aye,” Anne said. “[Shadows of Truth].” There was a hint of confusion in her voice as well, but it didn’t reach her expression as they moved out into the Kobold camp.

They hugged the wall and called out enemies for each other to angle their shields for cover. The first darts, rocks, crossbow bolts, and firebolts began to fly at them, and Teacup Salamanders spilled around the corner of a nearby tunnel.

“Aye, [Weighted Words] and …” Navid sighed. “[A Quarter Bolt of Lilac].”

That made Anne react. Her eyes widened and her lips twitched up. “Lilac?”

“Spare me.”

Quarter bolt … a resource Skill? Did the Madins use individual gamutry or— No. They hoarded information. Going by his reaction, they had adopted the Heswaren system.

To Lady Heswaren, purple was the color of self-deception. Lisa wasn’t sure what the significance of the specific shade of lilac was, but she knew each color contained more than one type of lie and truth. Among purple there were hollow truths, the lies of an imbalanced heart, and … duty. Huh.

Navid avoided her eyes when she glanced at him. If it weren’t for the heat in the cavern and the low orange light, she almost would have thought he was blushing.

It lightened her mood by a feather’s weight, but neither of his new Skills were useful in the moment. She moved on, “Ryan?”

“Uhh …”

“Ryan,” Lisa urged him. They had ten seconds until their enemies reached them. If he hadn’t leveled, she would commiserate, but she needed to know now.

“I consolidated? [Drake]? [Flamescale Armor], [Draconic Leap], [Breath Attack].”

“Shield wall.” Anne drew a finger along the sketched map that they sat around. “We head for cover here, and here. Take the shortest route out and if they pursue, we can punish them here or here.”

They didn’t all own shields, but some of them owned protective items and they could sacrifice their backpacks.

“If we take that route,” Frederic said, “the hoard is right there. We can pick up some healing potions and actual shields. It will give us options.”

“It’s a risk,” Navid said. “Healing potions, probably. But we don’t know if there will be any shields or if the treasure room has more than one exit. We passed by a few true Salamanders and some of those brutish Kobolds this morning. They could box us in.”

“Speaking from personal experience,” Ryan said, “they might even have arrows slits in the walls of the treasure room.”

“And if we level up …?” Jason suggested.

“We could make contingencies. Plan A, Plan B. If we do, we must agree to stick to the plan no matter our emotions. If we have failed by the standards of the Theatre and do not level up, we can’t let our frustration get the better of us and let it out on beings that, if you squint and tilt your head a little, might barely pass for human. We shove those emotions down and stick to the plan.”

“Okay. So Plan A, if we do level—” Frederick started.

“And those levels give us Skills that would be immediately useful,” Navid reminded him.

“—then we dip into the hoard and decide what to do based on if we can find ‘immediately’ useful loot?”

Navid smiled his seal of approval. “If we don’t level, don’t get any useful Skills, or don’t find useful loot, we do as Anne would have us do and snapping turtle our way out.”

Ryan pointed out the obvious flaw in their plan, “Who decides? Someone has to be the final arbiter on what is ‘useful,’ and it has to be someone the rest of us will listen to.”

“Lisa,” Navid said without missing a beat.

Lisa perked up. She had been listening to their discussion with one ear, and paying attention to the drake-winged Salamanders with the other, trying to unravel the mystery of their existence, because she did believe they might be able to bring them out of the Theatre. She didn’t understand why.

Like everything else around them, they were made of insanity essence. The same essence that fueled their Classes and Anne’s truth sight, the essence of the Judge. Demir had made them, she assumed, so they were somewhat more flexible than the other props. If she tried to subvert them like she’d tested with the pebble, they wouldn’t immediately pop like bubbles. But the type of essence they were made from also reminded her of her own [Biomancer] essence. Not quite the same.

More importantly, they were basked in a second layer. One that was the same as the corporeal skin that some of the illusory nightmares had had.

Preservation essence.

Where had that come from? She didn’t know, but she was thankful. If it hadn’t been there, she would have had to have used her life essence to sustain the drakes— the Salamanders once they left this place.

She blinked, mentally catching up with the conversation, and said, “I’m not a leader.”

“Maybe,” Navid said dubiously, “but you are the most intelligent of us, you care the least about loot and levels, you’re the most confident in your abilities, and you are … Sorry, but you’re somewhat emotionally drained at the moment. Your faults and your strengths even out to put you in the best position to be impartial. Unless there are any objections …?”

He glanced around. Nobody contradicted him, but Ryan was the only one who looked convinced. Anne, Frederick, and Jason all held their tongues.

Navid sighed. “To be clear, we’re all biased. The only other option, in my opinion, would be Anne or Frederick, but only if either of you can honestly tell me that you have regained some of your luck to inform your decision.”

Anne shook her head, and Frederick ducked his.

“So if you do not object …?”

Lisa was exhausted enough that she had to actively make her body shrug. But he was right; she didn’t care. “Just this once. So what’s the plan? I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It depends on if we level up,” Navid said. “We’ll need some concise way of confirming it to one another …”

[Drake]. Lisa stared. [Drake]. A dozen thoughts raced through her mind; half as many emotions. It had to be worse for him.

His tired eyes strained to stay open. Ryan stared ahead at nothing. He was so still. His body gently swayed with his shallow breaths, like a tree. He held his shield and spear in a loose grip.

The ghost of a smile was the only thing that assured her he was shocked at a sudden windfall, and had not just been told his entire family was dead. If this could be called a windfall.

How am I supposed to introduce you to my family now?

His teammates looked at him for a long moment even as a fiery alligator strutted up to them. They traded glances like they didn’t know if they should speak up.

“ … Congrats.” Jason tapped him with his elbow.

“Lisa,” Navid urged her.

“Head for the hoard. Frederick, Ryan, can you use your Skills?” She spoke as rapidly as her tiny heart pounded in her chest.

“Yeah,” Frederick said impatiently.

“Uh, they feel weak …” Ryan still looked numb. “But yes?”

“Anne?”

“Not a combat Skill.”

“Got it.”

She couldn’t guess what effect Jason’s synergy had created between his two set items, and neither could he, she was willing to bet, so she didn’t bother with asking him.

She’d already known how to control swarms a minute ago. Her spirit must have decided to ‘complete’ that skill on its own, for some messing of that word.

Frederick’s [Magic String] sounded like it would be more useful to cover their retreat.

Ryan was the deciding factor.

He was her friend. His [Drake] Class was just one more reason to get him out of here and to safety.

But Ara’s dark message still lurked in the back of her skull, a perpetual presence that would occupy her [Hold Thought] Skill until she listened to it.

She had ten months to prepare the people around her, and the Five Cities themselves, for whatever was coming their way. Ten months to raise mountains.

Ryan was a [Drake] now. That had to be her fault, somehow. He was her responsibility the same as Sam and the drake-winged Salamanders she had saved. She had to push him, however much she could, for his own good. That began with seeing what his new Skills could do and securing this hoard.

So much for impartiality.

“Ryan, wake up,” Lisa commanded him. “You, Sam, Anne, kill that True Salamander. Hold the entrance. Everyone else, search for shields, potions, and items you recognize on sight alone!”

Ryan blinked, clenched his jaw, and gave her a determined nod.

“Your [Flamescale Armor] has a passive portion I can see,” Anne said as they parted ways, “I’m not sure how durable it is …?”

“Yeah, it, uh, consolidated my—“

The True Salamander roared, drowning out the rest of their brief exchange. And then Lisa waded through the hoard with half of her teammates while the other half fought behind them.

“I found potions!” Frederick called.

She headed in his direction. She picked up a pouch of assorted crystals in passing, crunched it between her gloved hands like a snowball, and tipped the crystal shards into her open mouth.

Magic flooded back into her system. It felt as divine as a glass of cold water in the middle of the night. She groaned as her stomachs grumbled and basked in the feeling of the heat and fire essence that saturated these caves.

Finally.

She’d never used as much magic as she had in the last ten hours, aside from maybe when she had collected her ingredients for the creation of Sam. But she had had her dragon body, Wiggle, and a world full of natural essences to support her then.

She was famished. “Show me that?” She spoke as the crystal dust puffed out of her open mouth.

Frederick gave her a wary look but held the bottles out. She tossed the pouch aside, opened them, and took a whiff. “Healing potion.” She pointed at the first, frowned, and took a sip of the second. “Some sort of temporary body enhancement potion. Not sure what. Should be safe to drink, though.”

She spotted a crate filled with hay and six mason jars and stalked over to it. Pickled goods. She cracked a jar open and snacked while she checked on her bag.

Most of the drakes were still there. Two felt weaker than the others. They’d begun to unravel. She fed them some of her mortal life essences as her bodies responded to the sudden supply of nutrients. A few others stirred and struggled within their cocoons. For now.

But, they were all there. Fourteen beings that were almost drakes. Or rather, the only fourteen she had managed to save. Not that she had needed to save them. They weren’t actual drakes— dragons, like her cousins and siblings. They … they were …

Lisa had no idea what she was doing here. Her body sagged as she stared down at the wriggling cocoons. What do I do with you now?

Jason had found a shield and a net.

“Aha!” Navid proclaimed when he fished a thin wooden box out of the pile. It looked like a jewelry case for a necklace, but he pulled an embroidered red and cream-colored handkerchief out from it and shook it out.

“Gourmet Handkerchief,” he explained.

Head knocked back, Frederick frowned down along his cheekbones at his two teammates while he drank the potion. Navid tucked the cloth into his shirt like a bib in front of him while Jason slipped the shield onto his arm to his side.

“You might also know it as a Fire Eater? No? It pulls in and consumes fire up to a limit. Whip it at your enemies when it’s had its fill and it will conjure a swathe of flames. Single use.”

“Uh, thanks?” Frederick told them when he could speak again.

“A little help?” Anne called back to them.

“Time’s up,” Lisa said. “Let’s do it right this time.”

As they stepped back out of the hoard, Navid glanced at her with a mischievous grin. He raised his voice, and she suppressed a groan the moment she heard the first syllable to come out of his mouth, “Salamanders!”

The stupid muscle memory of her human face, which she had been so concerned about losing after Muri had torn her body to shreds, betrayed her as her lips twitched up into a glimmer of a smile.

But Navid saw, and it was exactly what he wanted to get out of her by teasing her. He sounded invigorated as he told them, “Let’s give them hell!”

Clear the Kobold camp. Be home by midnight. She could have a conversation with Ryan, and introduce him to her family, later.

His speartip slipped into the true Salamander’s eye, piercing its third eyelid and iris. Its jaw dropped and its audible grumble quaked his lungs as it twisted around the wound. Anne thrust her sword into its exposed neck.

They retreated, huddled up behind his shield and her backpack as rocks, darts, and the occasional crossbow bolt bounced off them.

Sam intercepted two Teacup Salamanders to their right. They hugged the wall and approached a Kobold Brute and its gang to their left.

Once more, Ryan swept its leg out from under it and Anne brought her sword down in its midsection before their enemies had a chance to react. He covered her with his shield as she stepped out and feinted at one of the Kobolds. It scrambled back.

It was a simple one-two combo that leveraged his superior reach and kept them safe, but the enemies’ numbers were increasing with every passing second, and Ryan moved as if in a dream.

The walls were vague and nondescript around the edges of his vision. A red blur alighted in the distance and spun, shooting off a volley of red lines that curved toward them. A Kobold mage and the original [Kobold Flameseekers]. Original and inferior.

Ryan shielded Anne on his left while she cut down a weaker Kobold and, following some instinct, he swiped the flameseekers out of the air with his right arm. The fire splashed harmlessly off his sleeve and coiled, as if caught by an invisible current, around his arm.

Where the wisps of essences traveled, the bare outline of thin, phantasmal scales alighted over the sleeve of his gambeson, shimmering from reds to oranges and blues like candlelight, and disappearing a moment later. The splashed traces of the Kobold’s spell were too feeble to sustain them.

Ryan could feel the scales, the armor, the same way he could feel [Hot Skin]. The same way he had been able to feel [Hot Skin]. It had been the very first Skill he had created on his [Salamander Path] and now it was gone. Consolidated. The thought filled him with a pang of loss, but he told himself some part of it lived on in his new Skill.

[Flamescale Armor].

It felt hungry. The same way he’d been able to push on [Hot Skin] to control its heat, he had some measure of control over this.

“A little help?” Anne called as another round of reinforcements walked out of a tunnel.

A mage skittered past them and gestured as if to toss a fistful of dice, scattering red hot caltrops over the dirt in front of them.

Ryan stepped out of formation, briefly, to stomp down on a cluster of three. A ring of fire essence pulsed over the dirt as the caltrops popped. Part of the ring swept back and up, and an image of a scaled sabaton flashed over his boot.

Ryan had barely even felt the caltrops.

“Salamanders!” Navid cried out for some reason, and he made it sound like a name.

The mage yelped and shot a [Firebolt] into his chest. All it did was feed the ghostly outline of his breastplate. His spear caught it in the neck.

The second true Salamander tried to capitalize on his misstep. It leaped, paddling its tail, jaw open and aimed at Anne’s arm.

Ryan turned on his heel, pushed on his armor with nothing but wisps of mana and his own body heat, and thought, [Draconic Leap].

He crossed three meters in a blink and rammed the ghostly knee guard into the Salamanders face. Its jaw slammed shut. One of its teeth broke, floating in mid-air for an eternal moment in his vision. Ryan’s own scales shattered over his knee, but the alligator-sized beast tipped in mid-air and tumbled head-over-tail into and over the dirt.

He stumbled, keeping the weight off his right leg, but the pain barely even registered.

“Let’s give them hell!”

The excitement built in his throat. He leaned forward as he’d seen Lisa and Myra do a dozen-dozen times in sparring matches, and turned on the Kobolds to let his emotions out.

[Breath Attack]!

A shower of twinkling sparks and a thin cloud of flames puffed out from his mouth like a warm winter’s breath. It didn’t even reach the nearest Kobold.

Oh.

Ryan felt the heat rising in his cheeks and quickly shuffled back into formation. He supposed he needed to rest before he could use that Skill … He still smiled.

A volley of fiery arrows curved over their heads like falling stars, seeking out the archers at the edges of the cavern. Suddenly, Ryan was thirteen again, cotton candy in hand, Lang and Finn by his side as he gawked at a street performer breathing fire over the heads of the festival crowd.

He heard his own childish voice: I want to breathe fire someday, too!

[Drake]. How long had it been since he had even spoken to his friends? He couldn’t wait.