So there it was: Dorian, a vampire, a giant rat, and a furious coiling dragon whose powers vastly outstripped them all.

Frankly if this was a normal run Dorian would’ve thrown up his hands. Here all he thought about was how best to escape. As the dragon roared, the vampire shrieked, the rat squealed, he turned to Sun. She’d need to cloak. They had to shadow-walk. It would probably spell doom at the hands of the wraiths but there was no other choice—

He looked left. He looked right.

Where the Hells had Sun gone!? He looked all around him. Had she been knocked into a pool when he wasn’t paying attention? He wracked his mind—when did he last see her? Right about the start of the dragon encounter. She’d asked him what they were to do. He’d told her to ass-pull. And then she vanished, apparently.

At the edge of his consciousness he heard the vampire squeal. He felt a tremor of skin-curdling Law, a silence. He looked betwixt his legs, behind him—no Sun! The rat, meanwhile, made a valiant effort at escaping. He saw it leap for the treeline, vaulting over its vampire friend’s corpse.

The dragon opened its mouth. A forked tongue shot out, elongating, speared the rat through the stomach. Its eyes bulged. Then the tongue went back, dragging the rat into the dragon’s gaping maw. It snapped shut. There was a gulp, a swallowing, a lick of the lips.

And then it was only Dorian and the dragon.

Dorian cursed. He hadn’t tried to run since there was nowhere to go. Nowhere except the shadow realm, and that was nowhere at all! But he had a better chance at dodging the wraiths there than losing this horrible thing. Trying to flee a coiling dragon in the Swamp of the Damned was like trying to flee a pack of rabid dogs through a minefield. Either the dragon would get him or the Swamp would.

The dragon’s mouth opened wide. Fuck it. Sorry, monkey-girl! It could hardly count as a betrayal if she was already dead. At least, he hoped his soul contract would think of it that way. Dorian braced, summoning shadows to his feet—

—he saw Sun.

He froze. How had she gotten up there?!

She hung by her tail off a high branch of canopy, a few strides beyond the giant holes the dragon’s blast had left. Her face was swollen. Her arms were swollen. Her tail was swollen. All from locust-bites, no doubt, but somehow—perhaps because of the dragon’s strike—she hadn’t been swarmed. Now that Dorian looked, the locusts had scattered from the spot of the blast, leaving only a few prowling the leaves. It left a perfect chance to climb unhindered. Sun had taken it.

Her toes were curled tight, her hands white-knuckled on the giant pan in her hands. She swallowed. Dorian couldn’t tell if she was building up the resolve, or waiting for the right moment.

The dragon reared to strike, the full force of its concentration aimed straight at Dorian’s head. Whatever it was preparing would blow straight through Dorian, Void Shield or not—it’d slash through all his qi like it was mere air. If he was to survive he had to go now! It wasn’t a betrayal; it was a matter of self-preservation.

And yet… he couldn’t. Because he saw exactly what she was planning to do, and some insane part of him, that speedrunner’s instinct, believed—hoped— against all reason that it would work.

Sun let go of the branch. The dragon might’ve sensed her. But her aura was so weak—just a Demigod—probably a straggler locust. Nothing worth paying attention to; it was hardly as though something so weak could hurt it. Just as the bile rose up the dragon’s mouth, she screamed and slapped the pan down. Startled, the dragon looked up.

The pan caught it right between the eyes. Vibrations shivered its scales like it was a massive gong struck. The sound, hollow and somehow profound, echoed through the Swamp. It rippled the waters. It trembled the trees.

The dragon looked less dazed than confused. Then Sun smacked it again. And again. And though she was a mere Demigod she wielded the signature weapon of one of the most powerful Godkings to ever live. It did its work. The dragon’s eyelids drooped with each smack, as though it were slowly falling asleep. CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

For a second Dorian dared to hope—

The dragon’s eyelids shot open.

It roared, bucked Sun off—she went flying but managed to right herself by swinging off a branch, flailing, screaming, landing wobbly but feet first on shallow bog ground.

If the dragon was mad before it was volcanic now. Its roar was so hateful, so ear-shatteringly loud it sent swarms of locusts streaming into the skies. It loosed a blast. But cross-eyed and rattle-brained it had no sense of direction—the qi shot backwards, struck a tree. Its thick trunk was goop in a flash. Law and qi spiraled in a hideous fountain, melting everything. Hissing. Smoke. Screeches. Thousands of insects taking to the air at once. Chaos.

The tiny greedy goblin in Dorian’s head said to seize his chance. To try to put an end to the creature while it was still dazed. Think how much qi it has in its core!

The rest of Dorian instantly realized what a horrible idea that was.

Dorian grabbed Sun. They ran for it—or as fast as one could run in such a place. Which really meant they walked as fast as Dorian dared, picking their way across the bog. Behind them there was a riot of buzzing and splashing. Was it locusts that didn’t take kindly to their habitats’ wanton destruction? Was it some other great insects come to defend their nest? Or perhaps some irked creature of the depths? Dorian didn’t bother looking back. Step by step they went in, deeper and deeper.

Only half an hour later, when they were well clear of the madness, did Dorian let out a sigh of relief.

***

They were nearing the heart of the Swamp. Now nearly all the ground was deep bog. There was almost nowhere to put their feet. The trees stuck straight out of them now, rooted far underwater, and on them crawled oodles insects with red-yellow shells that exuded the aura of Gods. The slits of light peeking through the canopy, meanwhile, had grown dimmer, redder: Hell’s closest semblance of night.

Dorian had to ask. “How’d you think to do that?”

“The ol’ ‘loop around and thwack ‘em in the head when they’re not looking’?” Sun grinned. “It’s my staple! I build it into half my plans.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I mean, I never would’ve thought to do it then. I usually only take risks like that with lots of prep. When shit goes south mid-job, I run! But hmm…I don’t know. You told me to ass-pull. So… I guess I did.”

Dorian blinked. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yup.”

“And you actually managed it.”

“Yeah!” Sun seemed quite pleased with herself. “I’m surprised myself, honestly. I don’t know what came over me! I was actually competent! It’s really quite uncharacteristic of me.”

“Perhaps there’s hope for you after all.”

She beamed. “I hope so too!”

They kept walking. Soon…

“We’re stopping here,” said Dorian, at a point that looked like any other. The trees had thickened. The colors of the bog had deepened, so dark-green it was nearly black. He was navigating by scent alone.

“It’s getting late. You don’t want to be out during the witching hours.”

The witching hours—unlike night they lasted only seven or so. But every day they arrived, starting at midnight, ending at twilight.

“Why?”

“Swamp Locusts are mostly dormant during normal hours. They feed during the witching hours. There’ll be so many clogging the air you’ll choke when you breathe. Plus… the things that live at the bottom of the bogs come up for air. Those are the real worry. Only fools wander the Swamp during the witching hours.”

“So the bounty hunters after us—“

“Will likely have the flesh picked off their bones in an hour, if they try pursuing us then. We’re safe to rest—for now.”

Sun had no objection to that. Dorian spent a while scouting the nearby terrain. He picked out a nearby tree, thick and squat. It was festering with locusts, but Dorian showed them a light touch of dragon’s breath—small, controlled, so as to not draw attention—and they scattered. Then, summoning fire and Fang, he burned and hacked away at the bark. A few minutes later they had a little alcove. They crawled in and Sun wedged one of her giant pans into the entrance. Dorian melted the edges, welded it to the tree-trunk. That was that. Shitty, but for a night it’d do.

“Ahh!” yawned Sun. She looked ready to dissolve. “Phew! I think—I think I’m due for a long, long nap—“

“First the Torchdragon Eggs, if you please,” said Dorian, easing against the rough hide of the tree. Its insides smelled like rubber. Sun produced them: five gleaming beauties. Their deal had been three for him, two for her.

He’d been too busy fleeing and eating to absorb these. They needed some time, and focus, to digest. Now was a golden chance.

“Mmm.” Sun drew out the Jingu Bang. “You like omelettes? Fried?”

“Raw.”

“Really?”

“I mean to get through all three in the next few hours. No time to dally.”

She shrugged. He tilted the nearest egg over, poked a hole in the side, and started to chug it like wine from a flask. The creatures in this Swamp could stomp him with absurd ease! It wouldn’t stand. How much would it take to match a peak God? His qi was more than sufficient—his star cultivation system could hold a ridiculous amount of it. His Laws would likely need another level-up—‘Medium’ grade Laws were what defined a God. And he was only a Base form dragonoid now. It’d take seven eggs’ worth of Bloodline essence to get to the dragonoid Second Form—and it only got worse from there… he could hardly scrounge all of Hell for spare Torchdragon eggs. He’d need some extra help.

First things first. The Dao Fruit, to get my Laws up to God standards. Then stop by the Kingdom of Ur’s famous—or infamous—auctions to get the most potent Bloodline Boosting elixirs the Upper Realms has to offer. He still only had a vague inkling of how he’d pay for those; brewed over centuries by master Godly Alchemists, legendary-grade elixirs of that ilk cost a king’s ransom. No matter. He’d figure it out.

Then after that... the Million-Man graveyard? Or perhaps—Purgatory? Some place where he could gorge himself on qi treasures.

And then—with luck—his Law, Bloodline, and Qi would all be formidable. Then with whatever Fate’s scrounged up he could mount a proper assault on Jez’s fortress.

For now he would content himself with more than doubling his Bloodline essence—and vastly boosting his Law and qi—in the space of a mere few hours.

Then the final push to the Dao Fruit would begin.

It was all coming together in his mind. He was quite pleased with the shape of it, all told…

[Level-up!]

[Dragonoid: Base Form]

[Bloodline Quantity] 2.0 -> 2.03

[Level-up!]

[Star Realm: Sun]

7% -> 9%

[Level-up!]

[Fire Planet: Moon]

[5% -> 7%]