Truth be told, Asterion felt as though his aesthetic sense had been somewhat blinded by the shimmering, golden splendor of El Dorado.
Or perhaps, having grown accustomed to the hardships of his previous life, he simply couldn't bear to part with anything of value.
Regardless, upon returning to his lair in the Ancient Forest, the originally pleasant greenery felt a bit eyesore to him. It wasn't bright enough; it lacked that sense of overwhelming fulfillment.
I'll just have to wait for Kulve Taroth to come over and help me renovate, he thought.
Asterion was in a jubilant mood as he worked. He dearly missed those days spent in deep conversation with Kulve Taroth. In this world that was both strange yet familiar, a friend of equal status and mature wisdom was a rare treasure—especially when that friend was so close to him.
Very close, indeed.
After a period of arduous labor, Asterion finally managed to gnaw out a passage connecting to the Everstream. The dry, sweltering air, the scalding magma, and the dense Bio-energy made him take a long, deep breath. The "flavor" was potent!
Just as fish cannot live without water, birds without the sky, or terrestrial creatures without air, Asterion had grown accustomed to the environments of the Confluence of Fates and the Everstream, where the very air was saturated with life energy.
Returning to the surface world—and leaving a place as energy-rich as the Elder's Recess—made Asterion feel like a fish out of water. It was an indescribable sensation of oxygen deprivation, a suffocating feeling that could not be relieved no matter how deeply he breathed or how hard he forced air into his lungs.
Fortunately, he could adapt after a while.
Asterion didn't simply sprawl out and sleep in the Everstream. As a local dragon who spent all her years active within the Leylines, Kulve Taroth had shared many taboos known only to "native" Elder Dragons.
For instance, she mentioned that a colossal monster covered in stone would occasionally pass through the Everstream. Combining this with information from his past life, Asterion quickly confirmed that the creature must be Shara Ishvalda—the "plumber" of the Leylines, capable of both digging and clearing blockages.
Hmm, why do I suddenly feel like Shara Ishvalda should be wearing red overalls... must be an illusion, he mused.
The roots of the Great Tree had already burrowed into the Everstream. Being made of wood, they weren't so exaggerated as to plunge directly into the magma to drink the strongest energy, but within the rock of the corridor's outer walls, roots—thick and thin—were densely packed like rebar in concrete.
Without wandering too far, Asterion gnawed out another hole in the area where the roots were densest to serve as the starting point for his future "El Dorado." It connected directly to the Everstream. Then, he lay down on the ground, closed his eyes, and focused his mind.
Immediately, a deep blue light began to radiate outward, centered on the middle of his back. It spread continuously into the surrounding environment, into the air, and into the soil beneath where he lay.
Yet, it also seemed to be extracting something. At a rate visible to the naked eye, wisps of pale white or faint cyan radiance, mingled with the deep blue glow, flowed back up from the ground and into Asterion's body.
The Ancient Forest was indeed a place rich in Bio-energy, with several major and minor branches of the Everstream passing beneath it, but it was still far inferior to the Elder's Recess.
Asterion was attempting to release the Origin attribute energy from within his body to taint and transform his surroundings. Simultaneously, he controlled his internal heat organ to exert its power for the first time, absorbing all external Bio-energy while guiding the flow of the Leylines.
It was exactly what the Xeno'jiiva had once done. From birth to development, by the time Asterion and Kulve Taroth had found it, the Xeno'jiiva had already guided the Leylines of the entire New World to converge at its hatching ground.
However, that process hadn't begun the moment the Xeno'jiiva's cocoon was formed. Its internal heat organ needed time to develop, its absorption speed accelerated over time, and the "call" that lured Elder Dragons to their deaths only grew louder as it matured.
This meant that Asterion was currently using a nearly mature internal heat organ to "inhale" at the maximum capacity of a late-stage Xeno'jiiva in a brand-new region. And therein lay the problem: over-extracting Bio-energy could lead to sudden environmental catastrophes and a sharp drop in biomass.
Asterion didn't want the lush, beautiful Ancient Forest to turn into a parched desert of yellow sand. Even a Safi'jiiva wouldn't recklessly drain a region's energy so haphazardly.
Therefore, he needed to redirect the flow of Bio-energy, changing the New World's Leylines from their previous course—flowing from the fringes toward the Elder's Recess—to flow from other directions toward the Ancient Forest. And he'd be taking the energy from the Elder's Recess, too!
As for what the Elder Dragons currently living in the Elder's Recess would think when they realized their environment was deteriorating, Asterion couldn't care less.
It was a brand-new energy cycle.
Xeno'jiiva's actions were merely for its own birth and growth. However, Asterion's ambitions went far beyond that; they exceeded the simple, introverted desire to let his heat organ grow into a "perpetual motion machine."
The deep blue light continued to flow into the distance, gradually becoming invisible, yet it truly existed within the Everstream. Asterion was pouring his precious Origin energy into the flowing Leylines, but he wasn't absorbing that portion of the energy back!
After decades, no dragon understood his own power better than Asterion did at this moment. Whether it was his blood, his flesh, the old shell he shed, his broken scales, or even a piece of keratinized skin without nerves—even the life energy within him—it all belonged entirely to him.
His past self-assessment was correct: Asterion realized he truly was like a Pixiu—the mythical beast that only takes in and never lets out. Once something entered his stomach, it became his property.
This was even truer for his Origin energy, an energy with highly individual characteristics. Even if its predecessor was the unique energy of "over-the-top" monsters like Xeno'jiiva and Safi'jiiva, once it entered Asterion's stomach, was digested, and then evolved again, it became something fundamentally different.
According to his own "scientific research," long-term consumption of the powder from Asterion's old shells and scales helped with intellectual development. Some gifted individuals could even undergo a secondary evolution, gaining stronger bodies and power. Even a Bird Wyvern like a Kulu-Ya-Ku could become a sage.
If scales and shells had such an effect, what about the most massive and precious energy within Asterion's body?
When this life energy merged into the great Bio-energy torrent of the New World, it would travel to every corner of the continent. It would seep into lifeless rocks, soil, and water; it would permeate the smallest bacteria and microorganisms.
It would be absorbed by the most ordinary plants, which would then be eaten by herbivores. Just as small creatures like ants are eaten by larger ones, the energy would rise through the levels of the food chain, eventually accumulating within the monsters standing at the peak of the ecosystem.
This was the cycle of life, the transformation of life, and the most essential flow of nature.
Asterion wanted to trigger a total evolution for the entire New World—Every Dragon a True Dragon!
Only then could those monsters break free from their most basic physical desires, no longer satisfied with mere eating and survival.
Only then could ordinary monsters realize what they were and what they wanted, making it possible for a "Dragon Civilization" to be born in the future.
Only then could Asterion establish an unprecedented Kingdom of Dragons, with subjects he could rule to satisfy his own desires.
And only then would there be more beings he could converse with, so he wouldn't feel bored or... lonely during his long life.
Expanding power always comes with greater ambition.
Asterion didn't even know how long it would take for his fantasies to be realized, or what the world would look like if they actually were. Regardless, he started by pouring his energy into the Leylines.
Be stained with my colors.
To this end, Asterion was even willing to slow the maturation of his internal heat organ, just so the change could begin at this moment—altering the flow of the New World's Leylines bit by bit, and transforming everything in the regions the energy passed through.
As a bonus, he could send a signal to Kulve Taroth, letting the "little" female dragon know he was here so she could follow the scent to find him.
Ordinary Elder Dragons adapt to the environment; top-tier Elder Dragons reshape the environment; Forbidden Species create the environment.
Having a clear understanding of his own actions, Asterion knew he was doing exactly what any Forbidden Species would do.
When he truly created a unique world in the New World—one that had never existed before and belonged only to him—Asterion would inevitably possess the power to be called a Forbidden Species.
Think of it as a clear signpost; Asterion was moving forward.
"The duck is the first to know when the spring river warms." If water had life, it would surely know the environmental changes before the ducks floating upon it.
Nothing understood environmental changes better than the providers at the bottom of the ecosystem—the grass, the shrubs, and the trees. The towering trees of the Ancient Forest were no exception; their roots, buried deep underground, would be the first to contact the energy released by Asterion.
This was especially true for the Great Tree where the Mirrorblade tribe resided. Its main root system wrapped around Asterion's new nest; whatever new "nutrients" appeared, it was going to take a sip first.
And so, when a Grimalkyne carrying a vine basket happened to hop from one branch to another, he discovered that this path he had jumped across countless times was somehow different than before.
"Strange, was this here before, meow?" After a few hops to the tip of the branch, the Grimalkyne scratched his head, looking completely dazed.
Before his eyes, the twig at the very end of the branch was clearly a new growth. It was very tender and varied in color. Most of the leaves were no different from the new leaves in his memory—the same tender green—but two leaves were different.
One leaf still had a hint of green, but the other had turned a strange, eerie deep blue—as if some cat was playing a prank and had intentionally planted it there.
"Is this right, meow?" The Grimalkyne reached out a paw, wanting to pluck the deep blue leaf. "Feels like it could sell for a lot of money, meow!"
I reckon no other cat wants it, so I'll just take it away, meow!
Whether it was natural growth or a prank, the pretty thing was his now!
In the Grimalkyne's mind, this weirdly colored leaf should have been easy to pull off. But no matter how hard he pulled with his paw, it wouldn't budge, as if it were nailed to the branch.
"Thi-this isn't right, meow?!" The Grimalkyne finally realized something was wrong. Even if it had been forced in, it should have come out with this much pulling.
Then, an accident happened.
Even though a normal Grimalkyne is very light and agile, his forceful tugging caused the slender twig to bend to its limit. Suddenly, the cat slipped from the branch. In his desperation, he could only grab the leaf tightly with both paws.
Snap!
"MEOW-AAAAAAHHHHH!!!"
It finally came off. With a harrowing cat-shriek, the Grimalkyne tumbled through the chaotic foliage of the Great Tree, finally being caught by several large leaves that broke his fall.
He didn't die, but he was scared into a "cat pancake."
"Th-that almost turned into a disaster, meow!" Still shaken, he climbed up while clutching the leaf, examining the object he had torn away.
The midday sun shone directly onto his paw. As a warm glow rose between his fur, it illuminated the originally deep blue leaf, making it translucent and turning it into a brilliant, crystalline ice-blue.
The Grimalkyne tilted his head and looked at the leaf against the sunlight. He was shocked to find that the end of the leaf—the petiole—was as crystal clear as a gemstone. It felt hard when he pinched it with his claws, and even harder when he bit it.
No juice squeezed out, and there was no strange taste.
"Th-th—REALLY BIG DISASTER, MEOW!!!"
A shrill cat-shriek immediately echoed through the Great Tree. This Grimalkyne practically crawled and tumbled his way back to the Mirrorblade tribe. Screaming all the way, he burst into the Elder's house, nearly shoving the leaf into Sparky's nostrils.
"What are you doing, meow! Calm down, meow!!" Startled, Sparky quickly pushed back the soot-covered paw. "Speak properly, meow! What happened, meow?"
"A huge incident, Chief, meow!" the Grimalkyne said nervously. "The tree is growing these weird leaves, meow!! Right next to our home, meow!!"
It wasn't that this Grimalkyne was being overly sensitive. In fact, after seeing the leaf and hearing his words, the humans and cats in the Elder's house instantly became grave.
To this day, the Grimalkynes of the Mirrorblade tribe had a clear and definite understanding: if something weird suddenly popped up where they lived, there was a good chance an Elder Dragon was at work.
They understood what kind of existences Elder Dragons were, having personally experienced the disaster brought by the Velkhana. Because of that, they were even more tense—after all, the thing having problems this time was the Great Tree that all Grimalkynes called home.
"Crystallized?" Beside them, the Commander took the leaf from Sparky's hand, his expression dead serious.
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