The ashlands shifted with uneasy life. Fissures still glowed faintly from the storm's scars, thin cracks breathing smoke into the air. Ash slid down blackened slopes, shifting like dunes, each drift whispering across Zeke's filaments. He moved slowly, spreading wide, his fragments tracing the unstable ground. His threads still remembered the burn of molten ichor and the weight of predator essence. Pain had not vanished, but it was woven into him now, strengthening what had once been fragile. Each fight left scars, and from scars he carved control.
Prey had begun to return in greater numbers. Faint tremors rippled across his awareness—rodents scurrying, insects crawling. He hunted with restraint, striking swiftly, consuming slowly. Each body dissolved with less waste than before. He felt Assimilation sharpening, the flow smoother, each cycle controlled more tightly. Hunger remained, but discipline held it at bay.
But predators always followed prey.
The tremor came heavier than any rodent. A slow, steady thud, measured and deliberate. Zeke froze, filaments straining against the ash.
It emerged from the haze with a body low and broad, obsidian scales gleaming like dark glass. Along its back, cracks glowed faintly, pulsing with light from deep within. Heat radiated in waves from its body, carrying the scent of molten stone. Its claws carved furrows into the ash with each step, its tail sweeping behind it like a scythe. A glassback drake.
It was larger than the hound, slower but heavier, every movement weighted with force. Its eyes glowed dull red as it locked on him. The ground shook with its steps.
He Split, fragments scattering outward in arcs. Pseudopods lashed at once, whipping into its armored hide. Sparks flew as obsidian plates deflected the blows, cracks spreading faintly but without giving way. The drake hissed, tail lashing, striking a fragment with explosive force. Zeke reeled it back, threads screaming, the impact rattling through him. His body dimmed, his form quivering. This enemy was not swift like the hound. It was a wall.
Instability grew sharp. Fire seared against its shell, leaving black marks but no breakthrough. Darkness coiled its limbs, yet the drake heaved forward, dragging him through ash. Light flared into its eyes, but it only hissed, thrashing with raw power.
He circled with fragments, probing for weakness. Strikes at the legs met claws, strikes at the sides met stone. Each pseudopod that struck too hard broke apart, sparks bleeding uncontrolled. The drake pressed forward, its tail sweeping arcs wider, scattering fragments. It was relentless, each step shaking the ash. Zeke dimmed further, splitting wider, forcing his control to hold threads taut across greater distance. Mana bled steadily. Split strained.
The drake reared, tail smashing down. Zeke darted fragments aside, one nearly shattering before he pulled it back. He answered with resonance—Darkness binding the legs, Light flaring into its eyes, Fire pressing into the glowing seams. The air warped as his threads screamed under the strain. The drake staggered, bellowing, molten light seeping brighter through its back.
But it recovered quickly. Its tail smashed sideways, sweeping fragments off their balance. Claws scraped through ash, gouging furrows that glowed faintly with heat. Zeke lashed pseudopods in retaliation, but the blows glanced harmlessly off its obsidian armor. Sparks showered, his form dimming further.
He pressed harder. Filaments traced the drake's body, following the rhythm of its molten seams. Each exertion made the cracks glow brighter, the weak points clearer. He bided his time, striking there again and again. Fire licked across the seams, widening them. Darkness bound its limbs, slowing its thrashes. Light blinded it each time it reared to strike.
Finally, the glass cracked wide, a gush of molten ichor spilling across the ash. The drake roared, thrashing, tail carving the ground in fury. It smashed through fragments, scattering sparks, forcing Zeke to pull himself tighter again and again. Instability spiked, collapse looming, but he refused to relent. He coiled pseudopods around its neck, crushing, while fire poured through the widening cracks. The drake writhed, searing the ground, until its body convulsed and collapsed into the ash. The glow faded, ember light snuffed.
Silence did not come immediately. The ground still hissed where molten blood spilled, turning stone to glass. Zeke trembled, fragments quivering as he forced himself together. The carcass steamed, its glow fading but its heat lingering. Hunger demanded it, but he held back a moment longer, threads still ragged from the strain.
Then he dragged it in.
Assimilate surged. The drake's essence was dense, sluggish, pushing against him as if refusing to be taken. He slowed the process, thread by thread, weaving it carefully. Each cycle burned like molten rock sinking into his form. Sparks bled as his core quivered under the weight. He fragmented wider, bleeding mass outward, dispersing the pressure. Each fragment trembled, but none collapsed. Slowly, he pulled the drake into himself, its molten essence spreading through his threads until it was contained.
The struggle lasted long after the carcass was gone. His body flared with heat, glow pulsing unevenly as his threads tried to weave the essence into place. For long moments he thought he might tear apart, the molten weight too much to hold. But control sharpened under the strain. The fire that should have undone him bent, thread by thread, into his form.
When it was done, silence reigned. The ashlands hissed faintly where molten ichor had spilled, cooling into black stone. His body dimmed low, but his threads felt sharper, each cycle of Assimilation weaving tighter than before. He had endured, and in doing so he had grown steadier. The hunger dulled, still present, but quieter behind the discipline he had forged.
He lingered, pulsing faintly in the drake's cooling wake. This enemy had been different—not swift, not cunning, but armored in force. Size and armor had not saved it. Precision and patience had broken it. That was the lesson. To endure the ashlands was not to grow endlessly larger, but to grow sharper, steadier, unyielding.
He stretched filaments wide, sensing the land. Prey scurried again, faint tremors at the edge of his awareness. The rhythm would return, and predators with it. The ashlands did not rest. Neither could he.
The System stirred.
System Update
Status
Name: Ezekiel AshbourneRace: Prime Slime (Unevolved)Level: 15
Affinity: Fire (Basic), Light (Basic), Darkness (Basic)
StatsSTR: 9AGI: 9VIT: 12WIL: 10RES: 11MNA: 48CTL: 17 → 18
Skills
Active Skills:
Split (Lv.5): Divide body into fragments. Fragments sustain longer, coordinate better, and bleed less mana. Overflow dispersal more efficient.
Assimilate (Lv.7 → Lv.8): Absorb matter or energy to recover essence; smoother, more efficient absorption. Can now pull minor elemental traces.
Pseudopod (Lv.7): Tentacle-like appendages with whip precision and crushing power. Limited to two, but refined.
Passive Skills:
Amorphous Body (Lv.6): Immune to blunt trauma, flexible morphology. Reshapes seamlessly under combat pressure.