Orum climbed the damp stone steps one by one, ascending toward the surface.
The flagstones underfoot were blanketed in thick moss, and each step carried the solid, grounding sensation of returning from the depths of the earth to the world above.
Behind him came the footsteps of his companions, echoing through the narrow passage.
"Finally, we're getting out." Melina's voice carried unmistakable relief, her black beast-ears swaying cheerfully.
The damp air of the dungeon gave way by degrees to the clean freshness of the night wind.
Orum drew a deep breath. The twin hearts in his chest beat with steady strength, sending fresh oxygen surging through every inch of his body.
That feeling of stepping from a confined space back into the open world was exhilarating beyond words.
By the time they finally crossed the threshold of the dungeon entrance, the sky outside had fallen completely dark.
A night sky the color of black velvet draped itself over the land, wrapping the wilderness in a mysterious, pervading stillness.
Stars glittered overhead like diamonds set into the boundless vault of heaven.
The Milky Way swept across the sky, radiating a mysterious and eternal light, casting a silver veil over the dark mountain range.
Orum tilted his head back and gazed up at the stars, breathing in the cool night air.
The vast contrast between the underground depths and the open world above filled him with a lightness he had rarely felt before.
"It's beautiful," Ronald murmured, his voice touched with feeling. "Down there in the dungeon, I thought I'd never see the stars again."
The entrance to the micro-dungeon still stood in quiet solitude on the open wasteland.
The ancient runes carved into the doorframe flickered in and out of visibility beneath the moonlight.
Orum looked back at the dungeon entrance, a strange and wistful feeling rising in his chest.
This micro-dungeon truly did feel like a living thing.
"Perhaps in some unknown number of years," Felix said, his voice carrying a thoughtful edge, "new monsters will breed inside it, and new treasures will be born." He paused. "One day, other adventurers will come, conquer the dungeon, and seek out its rewards."
The group walked back to camp by the light of the quiet stars, their steps unhurried.
At the campsite, the Ice Hawks Company rekindled the fire. The warm orange-red glow flickered at the center of the camp, a beacon in the darkness, soothing the weary souls of its adventurers.
"The greatest prize from clearing this micro-dungeon is beyond a doubt that priceless golden dragon egg." Felix could not entirely hide the delight in his voice.
He carefully drew the dragon egg from the pouch at his back and turned it over in his hands, examining it closely in the starlight.
Across the surface of the golden shell, gilded patterns flowed in breathtaking beauty, as exquisite as a work of art.
The markings seemed almost alive, slowly shifting in the moonlight and radiating a faint, sacred luminescence.
The gold dragon was a creature of lawful good alignment, and also the most powerful of the metallic dragons. Its body was clad in golden scales, and its eyes were sharp and brimming with wisdom.
Gold dragons were the sworn enemies of evil and base behavior. They were known to appoint themselves champions of justice on their own initiative, actively seeking out evil forces and destroying them.
A gold dragon would not rest until its target was dead, and it yearned for battle against powerful forces of evil. It would never be satisfied with defeating wicked creatures weaker than itself.
Gold dragons delighted in using their shapeshifting ability to disguise themselves, and even within their own lairs they would conceal their identity by taking the form of a human or an animal.
When traveling through dangerous territories, a gold dragon might assume the guise of a harmless human traveler as a way to draw out nearby evil creatures to attack it.
Assassins and brigands roaming the wilds, upon seeing what appeared to be a helpless individual passing by, would step forward to rob the figure, only to receive the shock of their lives when they discovered that the person they were trying to rob was not an innocent victim at all, but a gold dragon.
In short, the gold dragon shared many sensibilities with Felix, particularly that fondness for entrapment and the enforcement of justice by playing the role of bait.
Though it had to be said, that kind of worldview was admirable enough. It was certainly better than those evil dragons that only knew how to plunder and destroy.
"So when will this egg hatch?" Ronald asked with curiosity.
Felix studied the patterns on the surface of the dragon egg carefully and mulled it over for a moment.
"Based on my knowledge, the incubation period for a gold dragon egg typically ranges from one to two years.
"The egg must be kept at a temperature of at least one hundred and forty degrees for no fewer than seven hundred and twenty days before it will hatch.
"If sacred power is channeled into the golden egg, or if it is placed within a holy monastery consecrated to a deity of good alignment, the hatching process can be accelerated."
The moment Ronald heard the word monastery, his eyes lit up instantly.
As a cleric of Lathander, the prospect held enormous personal interest for him.
"A monastery of Lathander would have that effect too, wouldn't it?" The excitement in his voice was plain to hear, as though he could already picture the egg hatching ahead of schedule.
Felix confirmed with a nod. "Of course. Any holy site consecrated to a deity of good alignment would have that capability."
Melina's eyes shimmered with curiosity. "If it actually hatches into a baby gold dragon, how would we raise it?"
The question sparked a flash of excitement in everyone's eyes.
Raising a dragon? A genuine, pureblooded gold dragon! Even a juvenile dragon at its infant stage would be a formidable combatant!
"Though the young dragon would be small in stature, its magical aptitude and intelligence are both extraordinary," Felix said slowly. "In fact, from the very moment of hatching, it already possesses a remarkably high level of intellect. It would be capable of caring for itself almost entirely without any special guidance or training."
Orum thought to himself: that would save a great deal of trouble, at least. No need to worry about feeding schedules, walks, or cleaning up after it the way one would with an ordinary pet.
"And dragons are born with the ability to transform," Felix continued. "Even as a juvenile, a gold dragon can shift into a human form.
"That means it could conceal its true nature with ease, avoiding unnecessary panic and unwanted attention from those who might covet it."
Ronald nodded thoughtfully. "That really is a useful ability."
Melina listened in silence beside them, a tangle of complicated feelings stirring in her chest.
As a werewolf, she was innately at odds with this kind of sacred power.
In the face of the golden dragon egg's radiant holy aura, Melina felt an involuntary surge of hatred and revulsion well up inside her.
She caught herself feeling it, and the sensation made her stomach turn.
The monasteries Ronald spoke of so fondly were no sacred refuge to her. They were forbidden ground.
From the day her werewolf bloodline had awakened, she could no longer walk freely into those places of sacred radiance the way her companions could.
A thin thread of loneliness wound through her, and her beast-ears drooped slightly.
"I plan to bring the golden dragon egg back to Rhoen City and take my time finding the right opportunity to hatch it," Felix decided, his voice firm and touched with a sense of responsibility. "An egg as precious as this deserves the most careful protection and nurturing."
The Ice Hawks Company remained at the campsite for three more days.
The reason for the delay was significant, even critical.
Felix, the captain of the Ice Hawks Company, had reached a pivotal threshold in his Dragon-blood activation and was on the verge of ascending to a full-ranked professional.
Throughout those three days, a tension blended with anticipation hung over the entire camp.
Everyone knew what this advancement meant for Felix.
The leap from pre-professional to a true professional, a Dragon-Vein Sorcerer, was a transformation of a fundamental order. His mana ceiling, his charisma, his command over spellcraft, all of it would undergo a dramatic surge.
Felix sat cross-legged inside his simple tent, eyes closed in deep meditation.
He worked to rouse the dragon bloodline within him, cycling through his breathing techniques in continuous repetition for three full days and nights.
From within the tent came the occasional low rumble of a draconic cry, a sign that the bloodline was awakening.
The temperature around the tent dropped noticeably, and a breath of frost spread through the air.
The blades of grass nearby were laced with a thin coating of frost-flowers, a visible manifestation of the dragon blood rising to the surface.
Puddles on the ground had frozen over, and in the sunlight they shimmered with a crystalline brilliance.
Ronald sat by the campfire, eyes fixed on Felix's tent, and muttered under his breath, "Sorcerers really do have it easy. Their bloodline awakens and advancement just happens on its own."
As a cleric who relied on devout practice and the granting of divine favor, watching the natural advantages of a bloodline sorcerer always stirred a flicker of envy.
They were both spellcasters, yet a cleric was required to pray daily in the monastery, meditate, purify the mind, and even then it was barely enough to earn the approval of a deity.
And wizards had it even harder. They required years of apprenticeship and enormous investments of time in scholarly research.
They had to master foundational knowledge from the most basic cantrips upward, and simply reaching the point of casting one first-circle spell could take at least three years.
A wizard also needed to learn new spells through constant experimentation and study of ancient tomes, and the process of copying spells demanded tremendous time and expense.
Even during the leveling process, a wizard had to steadily improve their spellcasting ability and expand the number of spells they commanded, and the difficulty only compounded as they advanced.
Even Orum, during his study of the Summon Familiar spell, had only managed to do it as smoothly as he had because of the assistance of his system interface.
A sorcerer's spellcasting abilities, on the other hand, were largely innate. One might say they were born with a silver spoon in their mouth.
"Dragon-vein sorcerers really do start with a significant advantage," Melina said breezily from nearby.
"But it doesn't feel all that difficult, does it? Advancing to a professional class."
Her tone was completely offhand, as if she were commenting on something utterly unremarkable.
Ronald turned to look at her, his eyes filled with disbelief. "What did you just say?"
His voice climbed a full octave. "Advancing to a professional class isn't difficult?"
Melina tilted her head, her black beast-ears swaying lightly. "I advanced to Wanderer at sixteen, didn't I? It felt like... something that just happened naturally."
The air went instantly quiet.
Ronald's jaw dropped, and for a long moment he couldn't find a single word.
Orum, rarely one to show surprise, wore an expression of unmistakable shock as he stared at Melina, who looked entirely untroubled beside him.
What Melina had just said was practically an act of shamelessly flaunting her talent.
Advancing to a professional class at sixteen? That would make her a prodigy by any standard in the entire kingdom.
"Sixteen?" Ronald's voice trembled. "I still haven't advanced to cleric yet! And Raygore is no spring chicken, and he hasn't become a full warrior either!"
Melina blinked. "Oh? Is that late? I just assumed everyone was roughly the same."
Ronald collapsed flat on his back against the ground, both hands pressed over his face.
"I give up. You're just a talent freak. That's all there is to it.
"Stealth, Visceral Strike, Nimble Fingers. Three battle skills, and you just picked them up without any trouble!
"This world is completely unfair to ordinary people. The gap between talent and no talent is bigger than the gap between humans and dogs."
Ronald let his gaze drift over Orum and Melina in front of him, and then over to Felix seated inside the tent, and began to sigh heavily.
In this team, the only one who gave Ronald any sense of comfort was Raygore.
That taciturn half-orc never showed off any talent, never boasted about anything. He simply did what was expected of him, quietly and without complaint.
In a team full of geniuses and monsters, Raygore was the one person Ronald considered genuinely normal.
No bloodline awakening, no special gifts, no favor from a powerful patron. Just a plain, straightforward warrior.
That fact alone made Ronald feel he was not the most ordinary one in the group.
Raygore was always steady and dependable, shield raised, leading from the front and absorbing the most dangerous blows.
He never complained, never showed off, never casually said things like "advancing to a professional class is simple" the way certain people did.
Ronald stared into the campfire, quietly grateful. At least he had Raygore to share the experience of being an ordinary person.
Just as this thought crossed his mind, Raygore returned from his patrol of the surrounding area.
His massive frame carried with it the chill of the night wind, and his black iron visor caught the firelight and reflected a dim, subdued gleam.
His footsteps rang with particular clarity in the quiet night, each one planted firmly and deliberately.
Raygore walked over to the campfire and, under the eyes of everyone present, sat down.
His first words left them all speechless.
"I advanced to a professional class as well."
His tone was as calm as if he were mentioning that the weather was pleasant today.
The air froze. The crackling of the campfire became unusually distinct, and sparks drifted upward through the night.
Everyone stared at Raygore in a stunned silence, as though they had just heard the most unbelievable thing in the world.
Melina's black beast-ears stopped moving. She stared at Raygore with wide eyes.
Orum's stick dropped into the campfire, scattering a burst of embers.
Ronald looked as though his eyes were about to fall out of his head.
His voice came out with a noticeable tremor, as if his entire understanding of the world had been violently shaken. "Raygore? Are you joking?"
Even Raygore had advanced? The most unpretentious, unassuming one of them all?
Did that not mean he was now the most left behind of anyone in the whole team?
True, there was still Orum, but Orum was only eighteen.
And Orum had a powerful patron investing fully in his development. His future advancement was never in doubt.
"No, no, this has to be an illusion." Ronald shook his head with a strained laugh. "How could Raygore have advanced this quickly?"
Raygore offered no further words. He simply raised his right arm in silence. A silver emblem appeared on his fist, emanating a pure and potent radiance. It was absolute proof of a first-tier professional's standing.
An innate ability! The special power that every professional gained the right to draw upon at the moment of advancement!
It could not be counterfeited, and it admitted no doubt.
In the darkness of night, the emblem's light was particularly vivid. The rune formed from a longsword and a warhammer spoke of the honor and the strength of the warrior's path, and every person present could feel the wordless authority radiating from it.
Ronald stared at the emblem, completely vacant.
"I successfully advanced to Warrior. The innate skill that came with it is called Second Wind, which allows me to restore my own vitality," Raygore announced in his characteristically low, unhurried voice. "It can be used once after each short rest.
"It's a fairly practical innate skill."
His tone remained as even as ever, as if he were describing something unremarkable.
But everyone present understood exactly how formidable that skill was.
The ability to continuously recover during combat was nothing short of a perfect innate talent for a warrior.
It meant that Raygore, over the course of a prolonged fight, could continually replenish his condition, essentially giving him an absolute edge in battles of endurance.
Orum nodded inwardly with quiet approval. "That innate skill is genuinely impressive."
Melina murmured, "Restoring your condition mid-battle sounds incredible."
Her beast-ears gave a faint tremor, clearly shaken by the news as well.
Whether intentional or not, she followed up with a single remark: "That makes Ronald even more useless, doesn't it."
Ronald, hearing the words of both Raygore and Melina, clenched his fists tighter than before.
His knuckles had gone white from the force of it, and the color had completely drained from his face.
Ronald felt as if his faith had been struck a blow it had never suffered before.
"It seems I have no choice but to enter the monastery and put myself through a serious period of devout penance," he said through gritted teeth, his voice threading through bitterness and determination.
"Otherwise, I really will be looked down on by every single one of these people."
Ronald had already begun mapping out in his mind the journey to Lathander's monastery, steeling himself for the most demanding discipline he had ever attempted, in hopes of earning deeper divine favor and greater strength.
He would not stop until his goal was achieved.
While the group was still absorbing the impact of Raygore's advancement, Felix's tent suddenly erupted in a surge of violent cold wind.
The temperature plummeted sharply, and a bone-deep chill flooded the air.
A wave of frigid frost-wind blasted out from the tent, carrying with it the overwhelming aura of an awakening dragon bloodline, so forceful that every person present felt a shudder pass through them.
The campfire's flames lurched and whipped in the icy gale, nearly snuffed out entirely. The surrounding grass frosted over in an instant, dusted white.
The moisture in the air condensed into tiny ice crystals that glittered in the moonlight.
"Captain is breaking through!" Orum said, startled.
From inside the tent came a deep draconic cry, a sound freighted with ancient authority, as though a primordial dragon were stirring from an age-long slumber, releasing its terrifying draconic pressure into the world.
Melina's body trembled instinctively, her black beast-ears flattened against the top of her head.
Her werewolf bloodline had triggered a natural fear response in the presence of dragon-might.
"The dragon aura is so strong!"
Her voice carried a slight tremor. "Several times more powerful than before!"
Raygore rose to his feet. His massive frame stood as steady as a mountain.
Even in the face of draconic pressure, he maintained the unyielding bearing of a warrior.
The ground around the tent began to ice over, forming a frost-covered ring some ten meters in diameter.
Cold air spread outward like a tide in all directions, transforming the campsite into a world of snow and ice.
Orum felt that overwhelming pressure washing over him, and his feelings were an equal mixture of excitement and unease.
Felix's power was about to make a fundamental leap forward, and that was good for the entire team.
But at the same time, it was a reminder directed squarely at himself. He needed to achieve his own professional advancement as soon as possible.
"I need to grow stronger, and quickly," he resolved in silence.
Ronald gazed at the frost-cloaked tent, something complicated moving through his expression.
"The captain really did break through," he said with a rueful shake of his head. "I truly have become the weakest one."
After the frost storm had raged for several minutes, Felix finally emerged from the tent.
He radiated an entirely different presence, as if he had undergone a complete and irreversible transformation.
His hair was laced with frost, and his eyes shone with the particular authority unique to the dragon bloodline.
Each step Felix took carried an air of inviolable pride.
"I have successfully advanced to a professional class: Dragon-Vein Sorcerer."
Felix made the announcement in an even voice, though it carried an authority that belonged to beings of a higher order.
Everyone watching the changes in Felix could plainly feel that draconic pressure radiating from his bloodline, an involuntary sense of reverence rising in anyone of ordinary constitution who met it.
Only Orum's extraordinarily resilient monster organs dulled the full impact of that draconic intimidation to near nothing.
Melina approached Felix with careful steps.
"Captain, how do you feel?"
Her voice was touched with concern, her beast-ears trembling faintly.
Felix drew a long, slow breath and made a deliberate effort to draw in his dragon aura.
The chill in the air gradually dissipated, and the temperature began to climb.
"Good," he said. "Very good."
His voice had returned to its familiar warmth, and the sweeping draconic authority that had seemed to look down upon all creation softened and faded with Felix's quiet smile.
At Orum's side, Raygore gave a small nod, his large frame relaxing by a fraction.
"Congratulations, Captain." His voice was as low as ever, but the sincerity in his tone was unmistakable.
Orum stepped forward and studied the changes in Felix carefully.
Aside from those eyes, still flickering with traces of draconic power, Felix's outward appearance had not changed dramatically.
But the quality of his bearing had undergone a marked transformation. He carried himself with a new confidence, and the force of his presence was distinctly stronger.
"So this is the power of the Dragon-Vein Sorcerer?" Orum asked, pointing at the ice crystals still scattered across the ground.
Felix nodded and extended his right hand.
Ice gathered in his palm, and from it formed a sharp, gleaming ice blade.
"I can now manipulate frost elements far more naturally."
He swept the ice blade through the air with a light motion, and a crisp, clean sound cut through the stillness.
"And the dragon aura can now be released at will."
To demonstrate, he let a sliver of it loose.
Those standing closest felt it immediately, a pressure emanating from somewhere deep in the blood, a compression between levels of existence. It was not brute force bearing down on them but something more like the gap between species, the primal instinctive fear of a mouse in the presence of a predator.
Only Orum, whose monster organs were of exceptional potency, found that draconic pressure reduced to a negligible sensation.
"Remarkable," Orum said, with complete sincerity.
Felix smiled slightly and reined the dragon aura back in.
"Right now I am no more than a first-level Dragon-Vein Sorcerer. As I grow stronger in the future, the power of the dragon aura will continue to deepen."
With Felix and Raygore both having advanced, the Ice Hawks Company gathered at the campsite for a small celebration, cooking up a generous pot of braised meat over the fire.
The plan going forward was to make for Rhoen City to regroup. In that prosperous commercial hub, they would resupply and settle the proceeds from their latest expedition.
Rhoen City was the most important trade hub along the kingdom's southern border, equipped with excellent facilities and abundant resources, exactly the kind of place they needed most right now.
"We'll need to spend some time in Rhoen City," Felix said, beginning to lay out the schedule. "We need to process the haul from this dungeon run and replenish our gear."
Before setting out toward Rhoen City, however, Felix paused and tilted his head back to observe the phase of the moon overhead.
The moon had grown markedly fuller.
"The full moon night is almost here," Felix murmured under his breath, a trace of concern moving through his eyes.
As the team's leader, he had to ensure every precaution was in place for Melina's condition.
Over the past day, something had clearly been off with Melina. Her body had been trembling faintly, and her mental state had begun to show noticeable signs of deterioration.
Her usually lively beast-ears had gone slack, and her whole demeanor was listless and out of sorts.
Orum noticed the change and moved forward to steady her as her body swayed.
Melina looked up and gripped his hand, her dark eyes filled with fear. "Orum, what if I lose control?"
Her voice was trembling. "What if I hurt all of you?"
Felix walked over with a measured step, his tone resolute. "That won't happen. We've prepared for this."
He reached into his Spatial pouch and produced a thick length of solid steel chain, its links as wide around as an adult's arm.
"I bought this in Port Zobek. It was made specifically to restrain you on the full moon night when you transform into a werewolf."
The Ice Hawks Company scouted the nearby terrain and found a deep cave, just large enough to serve as a containment space for Melina. In the dimness of the cave, the chain gleamed with a cold metallic light.
"I'm sorry, Melina," Felix said quietly, his expression touched with regret. "This is for everyone's safety. And for yours as well."
By now Melina's mind had grown hazy. She could only produce muffled, indistinct sounds.
Her beast-ears were fully erect, and a savage, feral glint had begun to shine in her eyes.
Her body trembled in waves, as though she were locked in a fierce internal struggle against the wild instinct awakening within her.
Felix gently and carefully looped the heavy chain around Melina's hands and feet.
His movements were slow and deliberate, and he took care to minimize any additional pain or sense of constriction she might feel.
The other end of the chain was secured firmly to a massive boulder.
The boulder weighed at least several tons. Even a fully transformed werewolf would be unable to budge it.
The light faded gradually from the sky, and the last streak of sunset dissolved on the horizon.
Darkness surged in from every direction, swallowing the entire land.
Orum looked up at the sky, a flicker of unease stirring in his chest.
Tonight was going to be anything but quiet.
The pale full moon began its slow ascent, and silver-white moonlight sifted through thin clouds and fell across the rocky face of the cave's entrance.
The moonlight poured down like liquid silver, bearing within it an ancient, mysterious, primal force that had begun to awaken the buried feral instincts within every cursed creature it touched.
Melina's body began to shake violently, every muscle taut as wire.
Her bones produced an unsettling series of grinding and cracking sounds. The agonizing transformation had officially begun.
Her breathing grew faster and heavier with every moment.
In her eyes, which had once been so gentle, the last trace of human warmth was dimming and going out, displaced by the blood-red glow of a beast.
"Ahh..."
Melina let out a long, anguished howl, a sound in which human pain and bestial fury were wound together into one terrible cry.
Orum and the rest of the team sat gathered around a campfire at the mouth of the cave.
The orange-red flames flickered and danced, casting their wavering light across faces drawn tight with gravity.
Deep within Felix's green-tinted eyes, a tiny storm of frost was quietly building, his expression growing more solemn by the moment.
Ronald and Raygore were both visibly on edge, each with a weapon in hand as they sat beside Orum.
After all, watching a companion transform into a frenzied creature of darkness was something none of them had faced before.
Nobody could know what this night might bring.
Orum raised his eyes to the sky.
The full moon hung there like an enormous silver mirror suspended in the heavens.
It radiated a cold and mysterious luminescence, brighter and more piercing than on any ordinary night.
It was as if an invisible force moved within it, too intense to meet with a direct gaze.
The pristine moonlight fell across the wilderness and stained the entire land silver-white.
In every direction, distant mountains and nearby trees were all veiled in that hazy, luminous glow, at once beautiful and uncanny.
As Orum gazed at the moon shining against the backdrop of stars, he found that he could make out a faint, ethereal silhouette on the moon's surface.
Indistinct and shifting, it resembled a mysterious woman seen through a veil, appearing and dissolving in the face of the moon by turns.
The silhouette in the moonlight shifted between clarity and blur, swaying with a gentle, lifelike quality that carried an elegance altogether beyond the mortal world.
"Selenae, Lady of the Moon."
Orum murmured the sacred name inwardly.
Her divine realm was anchored to the moon, and that silhouette was its threshold.
This goddess, to indulge her personal vanity, had imprinted her own shadow upon the face of the moon.
And every transcendent being who followed and revered her needed only to look up on a night of the full moon to see her ethereal reflection.
It was a kind of special blessing, a symbol of faith and a source of power at once.
In the year's most perfectly full moon, one could occasionally even glimpse her avatar dancing in the moonlit shadow.
The grace of that dance was so otherworldly it left mortals entranced.
Orum let his imagination reach toward that vision of the moon goddess's peerless countenance, and for a moment felt an inexplicable longing rise in his heart.
But then a sound from the cave pulled him abruptly back to the present.
"Ahh, awooo!"
Melina's cries had grown feral and inhuman, a terrifying shriek that tore out of the depths of the cave and seemed to rend the silent night sky.
The green of Felix's eyes sharpened. His body went rigid in an instant.
"The transformation has begun."