“According to folklore, the insular Elves are descended from Fairies. It is believed that they were fairies who wished to involve themselves with affairs of the World and therefore exchanged their bodies of magic for ones of flesh and bone. They still retain characteristics of their heritage. Case in point includes their pointed ears, affinity with nature and a generous aptitude for magic.” from Nithenoel Wyndham’s Facts and Fiction, In the Mages’ Guild Almanac Issue 1, Year 1504 AC.

Arthur was in limbo; the state between wakefulness and oblivion. Flashes of agony seared into his nerves cavorting around his extremities before piercing through his core. His eyelids were sealed shut but his eyeballs felt like someone had just socked him a good one—with an elbow.

He was in a world of pain yet all around him was nothing but darkness and silence. Beyond the precipice of his awareness, fragments and snippets of his forgotten memories lingered, coalescing into scenes his subconscious tried to grasp, in vain, before they scattered into the ether once more.

Arthur wanted to wake, the silence was too disconcerting. He wanted to be anywhere—anywhere but that unfathomless oblivion of darkness that felt claustrophobic as if he was being squeezed into an egg.

It felt worse than having a bout of sleep paralysis in the dark. For a moment his consciousness entertained the thought he was in the in-between; perhaps he was no longer with the living. Maybe—just maybe, it was okay to let go and fade into nullity. But then, the World’s declaration echoed and shook his soul.

[Heritage-Bloodline Awoken!]

[Conditions Met: Bloodline Heritage Class acquired!]

[Bloodline Heritage Class-Scion of Sturmdrache!]

[Skill- Regeneration acquired!]

[Skill-Mana Sight Acquired!]

[Skill- Aer Mastery Acquired!]

[Skill- Aqer Mastery Acquired!]

[Derivative Skill- Fulmen Mastery acquired!]

…

……

[Enchanter Level 10!]

[Mage Level 15!]

[Synergy Met: Unique Class Consolidation Successful]

[New Class- Magitech Aercrafter!]

[Magitech Aercrafter Level 13!]

[Skill- Diagnostics Acquired!]

[Skill- Basic Repair Acquired!]

[Skill- Kill Switch Acquired!]

[Skill-Null Field Acquired!]

Silence reigned a while longer. However, that intrusion, his own voice speaking to him in lieu of the world rekindled a spark of awareness in him. Arthur’s soul suddenly recalled its vessel of flesh and bone. His mind jolted to wakefulness as awareness hit him like a bucket of cold water. Eyes scrunched closed, he grimaced causing him to bite and choke on a spoon. Arthur blew chunks as food went down the wrong pipe.

“What is wrong with you?! People should not play with their food,” yelled a voice, indignantly.

Arthur’s eyes snapped open—the sudden action caused pain to lance through his optic nerves.

“Ugh! Who turned the brightness to eleven?” he croaked

“Hmm?” the voice murmured. “ Ah, you’ll live. A little light never hurt anybody.”

“Feck!,” he rasped as he squinted through the gaps of his fingers. His vision gradually resolved to clarity, clearer than it was supposed to be. Though Arthur had 20-20 vision, he was sure that his eyes were not supposed to be so inhumanly perceptive.

This time he choked on his saliva as he gasped in astonishment. The world looked as if someone had decided the previous color palette was drab and decided to redo reality in a richer shade.

Motes and swirls of magic danced around the room, phasing through walls, the floor and the ceiling. He grabbed hold of a sphere of turquoise light scintillating across his vision but it sank through his hand as if it were never there. Speaking of his hand, his skin’s complexion seemed to have abruptly grown paler; almost as pale as a certain draconic woman. The nails on his right hand had also elongated to sharp points…like claws.

Arthur eyed his nurse with an expression that screamed ‘what the hell happened to me?!’ He saw said woman leering at him with a hungry grin. There was a blue-green haze surrounding her body while her eyes were blazing like twin suns.

“Well, good morning to you. I hope you levelled up in [Suicidal Pyromaniac].”

“What did you do to me?!” he exclaimed as he pulled at the swathes of bandages that wrapped around his body like a mummy.

“Ho, no gratitude? Not even thanks for pulling you back from the brink?”

“Oh,” realization hit him .” How bad was it?”

A scowl marred her features while her reptilian pupils flashed, eyes smoldering with unbridled fury , “ You lost your arm, cracked some ribs and broke some bones on your back. You also lost a lot of blood. Curse my middling ability with healing magic.” She pursed her lips and blew a stray lock of hair from her eyes, “Impetuous whelp!”

Arthur winced at the outburst and dug himself a deeper hole, “Er, why then are you angry?”

“Huh?” Aeskyre chuckled mirthlessly. “Your brain must’ve healed wrong,” she professed absentmindedly. Then in a blur of motion she was in front of him lifting him up from his sickbed with a one handed grip. “ Mayhaps you should tell me why I am angry, do I look angry to you?” she growled. Lightning wreathed her hands

Arthur frantically clawed at her skin, but his claws barely scored a scratch.

“Why?” he croaked. Her grip was sure, unwavering, even as she glared at him as though wanting to bore through his head.

“ I will not suffer my pupil’s failure, you hear me?” she said. Her tone was laced with a veiled threat. “ Perhaps someone needs reminding they’re only alive because I allowed it. [Lost Worlder] or not, remember your place.”

Arthur’s mind whizzed through his recent memories, of all the times he’d interacted with her. Maybe he’d become too familiar because he had a dragon for a housemate. Maybe that was the reason she was angry at him, he was incautious, frivolous and that would get him killed out there.

Aeskyre was well within her rights to chasten him for that goof up. There were things out there that he needed to be wary of, else his Earthen common sense would be his undoing.

Arthur nodded profusely, as Aeskyre’s claws pressed tightly against his throat, enough to draw blood from his own not as resilient skin. Aeskyre must have intimated remorse because she sighed and then dropped him.

“Now eat your food. Your body needs it.” Aeskyre insisted with the austerity of a matron as she gave him a bowl of unappetizing slop. “It’s wyvern meat, eat all of it; leave nothing behind. With the way your body regenerated, it might as well starve itself to death.”

Arthur received the bowl and nodded in thanks as he gorged himself on the food—or an approximation of it. The taste was bland but Arthur was hungry so he didn’t mind.

“I also have to warn you that the changes your body has been subjected to are beyond cosmetic. You have been using one of them unknowingly,”

Arthur wiped off the rest of the pottage and looked up from the bowl. “Wha?”

Aeskyre continued unperturbed, “[Mana Sight]—when you opened your eyes you recoiled as though someone had cast [Flare Burst] in your face. That was you unconsciously using your skill to look directly at the mage lights. Your eyesight might be sharper as a result. Your strength may have also increased exponentially and you might want to avoid exerting yourself lest give yourself a sprain or worse, break your bones. Drink lots of milk.”

“As you say, “Arthur acquiesced, putting away the bowl.

“I shall leave you to it—I’m going hunting. And no more of your maniacal experiments while I’m away!”

“Ma’am yes ma’am.” Arthur piped as he took a nap. He still felt shaken from having his neck wrung and hoisted aloft like he barely weighed a thing. Aeskyre was terrifying when she wanted to be and Arthur realized that he only had himself to blame, for becoming complacent.Arthur clenched his hands over the beddings so hard that he heard his knuckles crack. He grimaced as one of the nails on his right hand tore at the sheets; Also he had some grooming to do.

Even as his eyes closed shut, his only thought was, ‘I really did it’.

After a period of restful sleep, Arthur decided he’d had enough to pull all-nighters. He'd been convalescent for close to five days after Aeskyre revived and tended to him. He picked up a clean change of clothes plus his towel, and to his surprise, his shower gel hidden at the bottom of the duffle bag. He’d been wiping down himself before with lye soap like a peasant in medieval-esque earth much to his chagrin.

The youth also spied a pair of tangled earphones; useless given the state of his phone. Gingerly, he walked to the baths, wary of the ache from pulled muscles all over his body.

He was toddling like a newborn, unused to his sudden growth spurt as well as strength. While he’d gained a couple of inches and found it akin to walking on shoes with thicker heels, his strength kept him on constant alert lest he sprained his ankle.

As he soaked in an enchanted bath tub, he went through the skills and the new class he’d gotten. For ill or for good the experience had tipped two of his classes towards consolidation. He lamented the loss of his levels and the fogginess at recalling some of his magic.

It was the first time that he actually let himself unwind in the bath and felt the water soak into his joints. He tested his grip strength, tenderly and found that his body was slowly adjusting to it. His stomach felt emptier as if he hadn’t eaten a few breaths ago. Closer scrutiny of his physique revealed that stomach had visibly deflated.

‘Great, I guess I’ll need more food huh?’ he scowled as his gnawing stomach ruined the ambience of his relaxation.

On the upside though, where previously, he’d been happy with six pack abs that could be felt but not seen, now he was decked with sculptor’s wet dream. His biceps and triceps were taut and would fill out in time if he ate to replenish the lost mass. Even as he flexed them as he watched, it was unnerving to see the way they coiled under his skin like snakes poised to strike.

His right hand was also fully functional, though he felt the phantom pain where it’d been dismembered during the accident. [Regeneration] had definitely gone ham when it fixed the hand as the skin on that side looked like it was made of tiny scales instead of human skin as seen through his sharper eyesight. He was a human mutant.

On the same arm, he had swirling lines that looked like elaborate birthmarks in the shape of a Lichtenberg figure where the lightning burnt out of his body had discharged from. Unlike Aeskyre’s magical markings, Arthur’s were inert, and looked more like someone who’d survived being struck by lightning.

‘Haha, I’ve always wanted to get one of those but needles make me squeamish’ he thought, tracing a finger across the burn like markings trailing from his shoulders, past his biceps to his wrist joint. It did look like a cool silhouette of a fern branching all over his skin. A silly grin split his face.

Also the obvious side effect of Regeneration going on the fritz while repairing his body was the longer hair—Just like the way lengthened his nails into claws. There were silver highlights in his auburn hair which made it look more like the copper alloy of mithril he’d been working on.

‘Great, maybe I should call myself Red the Mithril then, he chuckled internally. No shit! It’s a good alias for when I become an adventurer. It doesn’t sound edgy like the Dark Abyss or Destroyer or some other thing a teenager would say.’ With this kind of strength, I should ask Aeskyre to test my mettle. Though I doubt she knows enough combat to spar with me.

He winced as he massaged his neck where the draconic woman had held him up like a mewling kitten.

After his soak, Arthur did a bit of grooming. Before the incident, he’d been a bit greasy after skimping on baths, so a couple of things were in order; like removing the dirt beneath his claw-nails for example. And it was with a lot of exertion that he clipped the dead things — they were stupidly hard. Then with a silvered dish as a mirror, he shaved his itchy stubble and trimmed his locks short. The impromptu mirror reflected another change in his irises-specks of gold in his blue.

‘Looks like I inherited some of her heterochromia, 'he sighed. Heh despite the makeover! Let’s not do that again,’ he cringed.

Dressing, he found his clothes snug like they were meant for someone of a smaller stature; the shirt stuck to the contours of his shoulders and chest. Even his stretchy sweats had ridden up all the way to his thighs.

‘Great, even my clothes wee bit smaller,’ he scowled. Pushing the issue to the back of his mind he headed out for some dinner—he was so hungry he felt like eating a half a wyvern, and boy did he jinx it.

Arthur stepped into the kitchen to find Aeskyre was gutting her catch. There was blood splattered on her cheeks and a manic grin was plastered on her face as she butchered the carcass,stripping off its wings with cleaver the size of a claymore.

Its owner might have been one of the unfortunate souls who met their end when Aeskyre went to ‘stretch her wings’. With a flex of her magic, Aeskyre cleaned up the blood as she finished butchering the wyvern into pieces that could fit cooking utensils.

“Please tell me we’re not just about to boil that. Storm wyvern meat can be pretty gamey and oily if all you do is boil it.”

“What would you have me do? It’s not like I know my way around the kitchen. I am a predator; I bathe in the blood of my prey—”

‘Ah,’ Arthur blanched. He schooled his face however, and approached the woman, leery of keeping away from the butcher’s knife.

“ Uh…let me take over from here. I assume you know your herbs and spices?”

“Hmph!” She snorted. “Tell me what you need.”

Arthur took over the cooking as Aeskyre passed him that world’s version of citrus fruits, called a sour orange—Arthur cursed the naming sense; it was just an oversized lemon! He mixed with it a variety of dry spices to make a marinade, and let the wyvern meat soak in the flavours. Then using makeshift skewers, he added raw vegetables to make kebabs. At this stage of cooking Arthur learnt to never trust a dragon’s advice on vegetables.

Nonetheless the end result was a rotisserie dish that brought tears to a dragon’s eyes; it provoked scandalous vocal reactions from her. There was also a bit of alcohol from Aeskyre’s previous errand poured to celebrate Arthur’s recovery and enliven the night. The stiff drink had an ironically apt name— Embercap Tears. When Arthur asked for the origin of its label, Aeskyre went into a full blown oration of its history. Where there was alcohol, loose lips were not far behind.

Embercap Tears was one of the magical alcoholic drinks that was strong enough to give a draconic woman the buzz. On account of their large metabolism and vitality, most powerful people and other creatures that loved their bottle on Eryth found their bodies counterintuitive to imbibing poisons.

Normal alcohol was nothing but plain water because once it hit the bloodstream, magicky things happened and it got cleansed or metabolized in a breath—whichever was faster. Thus, the story behind Embercap Tears was told by an inebriated dragon woman to her audience of one,

“The rumours go like this; a dwarf who was prospecting for Pyrtherite crystals chanced upon a mother lode located in some forsaken cave. Unfortunately, the cave’s owner came back before he had mined what he could carry away and you know the story about dwarves and minerals—”

“Don’t forget alcohol—” Arthur chipped in. Memory of their earlier altercation evaporating with drink.

“Yes, hic—and alcohol. I was just getting there—hic. So apparently dwarves also add some mushrooms as an ingredient to ferment their alcohol. And you know, Fire Puffs are a species that grows wherever Pyrtherite crystals are to be found—hic.”

“Mmh…go on...”

“So, this old dwarf thinks the time to go to Eog’s hallowed halls has finally come. He had nothing but a pickaxe between him and his would-be attacker—hic. Also dwarves worship Eog as their god of the mountain and miners. Sorry I digress, hic—Anyway, since this old dwarf thinks he’s going to die sooner rather than later—hic, he does the unthinkable—”

“And what would that be?” Arthur asked with rapt attention.

“The damn old goat mixed ember puff mushrooms into his brew—hic. And the results were explosive—I mean, He didn’t even get to taste it because it evaporated into fumes that even made the fire drake tear up—hic. Ha-ha-ha!”

“I’m guessing this certain dwarf survived?”

“Of course! We wouldn’t be having this wonderful drink otherwise—pour me another…”

Arthur poured her another while he sipped a watered down sample of the whisky. [Regeneration] was cleansing his blood and his liver kept metabolizing fast enough he was barely tipsy at the end of it. But gods, it burned; even watering it down did nothing but cause his crystal tumbler to steam. Worse, it tasted like someone had mixed tabasco sauce with biofuel…not that he had any idea what biofuel tasted like.

Nonetheless, with regeneration he was assured that, if his liver cells died well, —Regeneration was not something he could turn off because it was a passive skill. Just as well as he could not switch off his immune system. Though, even if he could, he wouldn’t.

Alcohol was just one of those things I didn't care for and that he drank Embercap Tears watered down spoke volumes about its potency.

Surprise of surprises, he found draconic canines while picking his teeth. Arthur thought out loud,

“Great, I'm a Cullen now.”

“What’s a Cullen?” slurred a certain drunk.

“A vampire. You know, has sharp fangs and drinks blood? Makes thralls?”

“Ha! Those night dwellers?”

“ I’ll go ahead and assume they exist. This world does not surprise me anymore”

“Mayhap they do or used to. I don’t know—I haven’t heard incidents involving the blood suckers for a long time now,” Aeskyre replied as she eyed her empty crystal tumbler—She was already sobering up. “However, their kin, the dhampir half-bloods are daywalkers. You might run into them if you look hard enough.”

“Oh? Why do you think they may no longer exist?”

“Before I was a hatchling—they fought against other races on the side of the Fiend-kin. At the time, it was known as the Fiendish Wars,” She grimaced. “Those were dark times, and vampires loved nothing but darkness…”

Knowing that he was due for another one of Aeskyre’s impromptu lectures. Arthur put down his crystal tumbler to listen.

“ At the end of the decades-old war, almost all traces of vampires were eradicated along with the fiends. And that was only when the rest of the Erythrean races finally formed a war council. All that remains as a testament of war are the dhampirs and the tieflings who are half-fiend and half other races. They are still treated with vitriol; often discriminated against because of their parentage.”

“That’s so sad. The retribution for the sins of the parents must not be visited upon their children,” Arthur spoke quietly.

“I would agree with you. Were it not for the Church of Thea, those two young races would have faded into oblivion; besieged on all sides by kith and kin who lost their loved ones to the war. The Church of Thea was impartial; it took in some of the half-blood children.

In the Fiendish wars, everything went to hell on a carriage—you can imagine the horrors visited upon helpless maidens who could not defend themselves. It was not their fault they spawned the offspring of the enemies they loathed. In the end, many children and sympathetic mothers were cast away.”

“Uh, I didn’t mean to be such a downer.”

“Hmm,” Aeskyre grunted, tipping back her tumbler.

“Something on your mind Arthur?” she asked, after having cleared the rest of the drink and wiping off the dribble with the back of her palm.

Arthur was hesitant to give voice to his thoughts but he had to know for sure.

‘Here’s to hoping I won't get throttled twice in one night.’ he sucked in a deep breath, almost choking as a result of the heavy alcoholic fumes. Nonetheless, he caught himself and outed it.

“I just noticed you no longer have a preconception of what I am thinking about nor do your words have a certain ‘weight’ to them’.”

“I never thought you’d ask.” Her eyes glinted dangerously. Arthur swallowed, preparing to duck out of the as if that would do jack against Aeskyre’s strength. “ I would think that happened because I imprinted on you. You’re now more powerful, magically, physically and mentally. I can’t read your surface thoughts like I did before, unless you let me in.”

“What do you mean you imprinted on me? Isn’t that like—”

“ Imprinting is a mark of trust. In ages past, whence dragons took some of the hominid races as mates, imprinting was part of the bonding process. Like exchanging vows… only with the World as a witness. Such bonds were made for life and rarely were they ever broken unless either partner died or worse…became an oath breaker.”

“Am I your—”Arthur scratched his neck in confusion.

“By Aeris, no!” She recoiled. Then she broke into a fitful of giggles that sounded sweetly unbecoming of her mien as Arthur had known her. Arthur felt…felt like he’d been put down a peg. He had an uneasy smile on his face and felt stupid for even asking the question.

Wiping off mirthful tears, she managed to slip in, “ Not in a millenia Arthur Tyrell O’reilly.” Then reining in her amusement, she added, “Imprinting was also used by dragons to pass on knowledge to their young ones when they came out of hatching. It was meant to give them a head start in the world. So I’d rather you call me mother,” winking as she said so.

Arthur sputtered. Alcohol went in the wrong airway.

‘It burns!,’ his eyes watered. He flew to the enchanted water spigot and took mouthfuls of the precious liquid.

“Ahaha, you know me well. You should have seen your expression!” She chuckled. “Verily, I won’t belabor the point. However—,” said Aeskyre, amusement still on her lips. She got up from her kitchen seat and picked up an unopened bottle. “This I’ll tell you; the bond can be what you want it to be.”

And she walked out, Arthur was still dousing his face with cold water to take the edge off the alcohol’s sting.