Hyperion Evergrowing: A Monster Evolution LitRPG

Leif held the letter between two ivory fingers, the plain envelope standing in contrast to the intricate red wax seal, the stylish flourish of a serpentine dragon eating its own tail crafted with such fine details he could make out the individual scales and the pupil of its eye. The envelope was surprisingly heavy, slightly bulging from its hidden contents.

“A letter?” He asked, shooting a glance up at the Twin Heart guild-master. “You’re sure it’s for me?”

“It came with a note stating as such.” Nikolas affirmed, the man sitting on the corner of his desk with an expectant expression. “Well? Pop it open and give the thing a read.”

Leif nodded, and began to peel away at the seal. He ended up having to sharpen the tips of his fingers with [Wood Manipulation] to find enough purchase to get it off. Within were several sheets of paper, more than he had expected, even with the letters' weight. There was a large sheet, perfectly sized to fit the envelope, and a handful of smaller ones tucked in behind it.

He gingerly removed the largest page, skimming the first few sentences to make sure it was the correct starting point. It felt almost surreal to be holding something specifically for him, as if this situation had somehow been beyond his grasp up until this very moment. It was unexpectedly heartwarming, and Leif had to mentally steady himself from the surge of emotions, a mix of joy and nervousness that threatened to bubble up within him. He removed his mask, attaching it to his waist along with the painted one he was yet to wear, and took a deep breath.

‘Leif, it has been a while. I am writing this in the hopes you will make your way to Ahle-ho and the Twin Heart guild. I trust Nikolas, even if the old man talks far too much. This letter is being written because Marcus says he is no longer able to scry you, he insists that this is due to some sort of skill blocking his own, and not your untimely death. I’m not sure how his skills are able to reach so far north, but he seems sincere, his concern genuine. I’m no expert on the [Seeker] class and its many known promotions, so you’ll have to ask him yourself.

The students and I are back at the Academy, though things are busier than ever for someone like myself. The kids, though I suppose many of them are technically adults, are fine. So too, are the hundred expedition members you acted to save when those whose duty it was to do just that were unable. You prevented a massacre, so in place of those who are not certain as to your identity, thank you. Thank you for protecting those you had no obligation to protect, for risking your life for people you didn’t know. Few would have done the same thing in your situation, and that is deserving of more credit than you are likely to ever receive.

Of course, I also need to mention that it was reckless to the extreme. I saw the state of your physical form after we were victorious, the fact you live at all is downright miraculous. I can hardly criticise though, you wouldn’t believe half the idiotic and downright suicidal things I did to gain my power. Nothing as noble as yourself, I’m sure. But crazy? Certainly.

As the people of influence I know keep reminding me, power comes with responsibility. No doubt if you’re reading this, Nikolas has started to beat that understanding into you. I recommend you leech what knowledge and resources you can from him, then run away as fast as possible. Nik, if you’re reading this, I am not criticising your methods, only the quality of your character.’

Leif glanced up at the silently waiting guild-master, unsure how the man would react if he read that part of the letter.

“What?” Nikolas asked, cocking his head to the side with a look of benign serenity on his face. “Did she mention me? Only good things I assume?”

“She complimented your methods.” Leif said dryly, his words causing the man to beam.

“Did she now? I left a better impression than I thought!”

“Right.” He mumbled, returning his attention to the letter.

‘Things are changing, powers we thought were dormant are beginning to stir and war once again seems to be on the horizon. Can you believe it? Even surrounded on all sides by enemies that could squash us like insects, we humans continue to bicker and fight amongst ourselves. I don’t want to make light of your situation, but being able to take a nap in the dirt for a few decades and let this whole thing blow over is more appealing with each passing day.

Speaking of insects, Alfredi, his snake, that arrogant orc and I defeated the Awakened Enslaver, though despite our numbers advantage, it was far too close. I am fine, as is the coatl, Pocht, but Alfredi was forced back into retirement due to his wounds. The imperial representative for Ahle-ho that replaced him is no doubt doing a perfect job in reducing regional tension. I swear, it's like Mekrys is itching for war to break out.’

Leif flipped over the page, placing the envelope onto the desk as he did so. To his surprise the handwriting changed, the refined scribble being replaced with more forceful lines and curves, as if the hand used to create them prioritised efficiency over artistry.

‘Leif, this is Siegfried. Marcus is with me as I’m dictating this, but he has a habit of waffling on when writing so I’m doing it. We think you’re alive, which is good. Congratulations on not dying.

If you come down south to the Academy we can host you on Lutum. Not sure how you might get here, I recommend not walking.’

And that was the end of Sieg’s part of the message. It was short, curt, and entirely within character. Leif let out a snort of amusement, his eyes naturally lowering to where Hera’s writing picked up again.

‘He left me with so much space, how nice of him. I’m going to echo the invite Sieg mentioned, as one of the Academy’s blades there are certain things I can get away with that students, even advance-track third years, cannot. And I suspect you’ll want to come find me after you read what I have to say next.

I may have overstepped, and if I did I’m sorry. You are easily the most interesting tree I have ever met, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t pulling my leg somehow. So while I was recovering I couldn’t help but investigate your origins-’

Leif froze, the letter partially crumpling within his fist. His world focused in on a single point, his vision going blurry as his blood began to pump in an erratic rhythm. Origin? He thought, mind racing as he focused on [Intelligence] to process things faster. What- What does she mean?

‘I poked around a bit, and managed to slip a personal note into a report being sent to the Vin estate. It took a few months to get a reply, probably due to all the madness having undead appear en masse in the northern frontier must have caused.

I got a reply, several actually since we went back and forth over the past year. Do you know of a ‘Flavia’? Because she definitely knew of a ‘Leif.’

Leif’s world went very, very still. His vision locked onto the name, the name that had meant so much to the person he had been what felt like a lifetime ago. The girl he had seen during his advancement trial, the girl who had begged him not to act recklessly. Flavia. He thought, the name ringing his mind like a bell. “Flavia.” He whispered.

The name of his younger sister was enough to drive the air from his lungs, the stab of pain like a blade through the heart. It was all real, his family was real, his past life was real. It was such a stupid, irrational realisation that it almost made him laugh, the sound coming out more like a mangled choke than anything humorous.

The untouched contents of the discarded envelope were suddenly the only thing that mattered. He reached out, half lunging for the slim fold of paper he had only just placed onto the desk. The envelope slipped from his grasp as he clawed desperately to take hold of it, his lack of control spilling the contents out over the desk. Sharpened fingers raked lines into the wooden surface as he snatched up the closest sheet of paper.

Something moved due to his sudden movement but he ignored it, his entire world the small, fragile page before him. Leif lifted the letter with trembling fingers, inhuman eyes burning with a manic intensity. And then he was somewhere else, in a world made entirely out of golden grains of sand. A room, not dissimilar to the one he was physically present within stretched out before him as his surroundings faded into irrelevance. Even with the lack of detail he began to recognise it from his advancement trial. The window, the shelves, the chairs.

The person.

She sat behind the desk that had once belonged to their father, her face partially covered by locks of golden hair. Flavia’s hands moved across a small section of her desk, her actions blurred by the golden world.

She’s writing. Leif realised, his mouth going dry, sweat appearing on his back and his legs aching with years of exhaustion. He wiped at his eyes, only to press her letter against his cheek. It came away wet.

Flavia looked up, head tilted towards the ceiling as if lost in thought. She was the girl he had seen, only taller, more dignified, older. Golden grains of sand outlined the markings of weariness on her features, the crease in her brow, the shadows beneath her eyes, the slight down turn of her lips. Her jaw trembled, hands gripping the table as Flavia reacted to whatever she had just written.

She looked so incredibly sad.

And he had left her. For twelve years, likely far more.

“You better not die! You better come back! If you die I’ll kill you!” Her past words rang in his ears, those of a girl fearing for her brother.

“Don’t you dare not come back. I don’t want to inherit your responsibilities for the family, you have to do it.” It wasn’t a complaint, it was a plea.

“Please come back.” She had said, tears in her eyes. “It won’t be the same without you. So come back alive. Promise me Leif!”

“Yeah. You got it, I promise.” He had lied, not having turned around to look her in the eye.

Seeing her felt like dying all over again, of laying in the mud, breath coming short as the end closed in. Phantom pain, repressed and forgotten lanced through his soul, but he ignored it, raising the real paper with his real hand.

‘You ask if I know a Leif Vin? How could I not, I still think of my brother every single day. I know him, of course I do, but he’s dead. What I want to know, Blade Hera, is why you are asking? What does that name mean to you, more than a decade after his passing?’

It was as if a mountain was pressing down on his shoulders, an invisible weight trying to flatten him into the ground. It was too much, it hurt way too much. How could it not?

‘Why does an esteemed member of the Academy want to know? Why do you want to know about a man long dead? Why do you want to know about my stupid, foolish, moronic, obtuse older brother? I miss him so damn much, so please, tell me why you want to know.’ The letter ended, the words at the end having been written with enough force to partially tear the paper.

The vision faded, golden motes falling in a shower of sand, turning into dust as the letter tumbled from his grasp. Leif staggered back, he felt weak, sluggish, unable to bear the weight of the past. As he collapsed, something blurred in the corner of his vision, arms somehow strong enough to support his inhuman weight catching him before he hit the floor.

Oh, He realised numbly, mind going dark. I wasn’t alone, that’s embarrassing.