Path of Dragons

Elijah focused on the ripples.

With every passing second, a pulse of ethera sent tiny waves through the atmosphere, not stopping for hundreds of feet. He wasn't certain where they truly dissipated, but he knew it was somewhere well outside the sensory capabilities of Soul of the Wild.

The most powerful of those ripples originated with him as torrents of vitality flooded his body. It had been three days since he'd begun his convalescence, and in that time, he'd rebuilt most of his upper torso. The damage hadn't been limited to the point of impact. Bones had been turned to mere fragments, and only sixty percent of his ribcage had remained intact. The organs beneath had fared only slightly better, and if he'd been a normal person, he never could have survived long enough to regain consciousness.

Even with all of his advantages, the efforts of the hill goblin Healers was the only reason he'd made it that long. However, their abilities were comparatively weak, and all they could do was keep him stabilized. Much of that effort had been counteracted by his reaction upon awakening, and once he'd gotten an explanation of what was going on, he was forced to go back to square one.

It wasn't the first time he'd engaged in a long recovery, but the most memorable was after his fight with Thor. He'd won that fight, but he'd come out of it with so many broken bones that it had taken days to mend them.

This time was worse. Much, much worse.

Fortunately, Elijah was also far better equipped to deal with the problems. Not only did he have his three healing spells to aid his recovery, but he could do so with a nearly infinite source of ethera. Such was the advantage of a spell like Grove Conduit, which, in addition to giving him access to the dense ethera of the grove, also increased the vitality all around him, and to such an extent that it could heal lesser wounds on its own.

Then there was his Mantle of Authority, which he'd evolved while cleansing Central Park. In its nascent state, it wouldn't have done much good, but after he'd put his proverbial stamp on the ability, it had become much more powerful. Less versatile, perhaps, but such was the case with any evolution. As it stood, it promoted growth through life and cleansing through death.

And given how much foreign ethera he had in his body, the latter was very necessary. Even now, days after he'd been subjected to that long-range attack, he could feel the last and most stubborn bits of foreign ethera still clinging to him. With every passing moment, his Mantle of Authority whittled them down, but he knew it would take another twelve hours or so before they'd be completely purged.

That, more than anything else, told him just how credible the threat really was. Someone was hunting him, and they had chosen their moment to attack very, very well. In the middle of battle, he'd had no way to avoid the blow that had very nearly killed him.

And that was a sobering thought.

For quite some time, Elijah had approached problems with the surety that he could survive just about anything the world could throw at him. He'd proven that ability dozens of times over, and not just on Earth. He'd also endured countless injuries in Primal Realms, and each time, he'd risen above the damage to win the battles set before him.

This was different, though. More troubling by far. It was proof that he was vulnerable. Certainly, it took the right person in the perfect situation to push him to the brink, but with the trouble he normally got up to, those circumstances seemed far more common than he would have liked.

In fact, he'd been pondering it for the past few days. Dwelling on it, in fact, and to the point where it occupied an entire facet of his mind. It wasn't fear that drove those thoughts, though there was some of that in there. It was a realization that he'd been going about things all wrong.

To date, the only thing that had kept him alive was power. It was the only reason the things and people he cared about had been allowed to persist. At first, that power lay with the panther that had adopted him right after the world's transformation, but in the wake of its death, Elijah had been forced to assume that responsibility himself.

It hadn't been easy, but through a host of hardships, he'd managed to rise above it all. He was the strongest man on the planet, at least among the humans. And he suspected the same was true even if he added the alien settlers to the mix. Even among people of his level, he was special. His cultivation was far more advanced, and according to everything he'd seen, his attunement was much stronger than normal.

Through that strength, he'd saved his grove, his family and friends, as well as countless other people.

But now, he'd begun to realize that the second he let his relative power slip, everything would come crashing down. For the past few months, he'd been avoiding doing the things he knew needed to be done. He hadn't truly looked for Primal Realms. He hadn't gone down to the Hollow Depths to help deal with that situation, either. He hadn't inducted Nara and the other sea elves into the grove. And he'd wholly neglected most of his responsibilities, instead distracting himself with one tertiary and self-imposed quest after another.

Had he saved people in the interim?

Sure. By all rights, destroying the Third Army was a noble goal, and the world was safer now that they were gone. However, he knew as well as anyone that he'd wasted a lot of time.

Only by happenstance had he found the Labyrinth of the Dead Gods. He'd certainly not set out to look for it, and even upon finding it, he'd gone the other way.

Because he was afraid.

Damaged, psychologically and now physically. Not quite broken, but not far off from that mark, either. He needed a rest. He wanted to spend a year just exploring and lounging in the grove.

But he couldn't do that. The world had no intention of standing still, and if he didn't get off his backside and contribute to its defense, it would surely fall. Either as prey to people like the Third Army or excisement. In both cases, humanity would pay the costs.

More than that, though, he knew that the powerful people of the world weren't going to sit still either. They were out there right now, each one progressing in their own way. If he didn't get moving, they would surpass him. And if that happened, no one he loved and nothing he cared about would be safe.

Progression had always been a byproduct of going his own way, of doing what he thought was important. But now? It felt like it needed to shift a little higher on his list of priorities. He had painted a target on his own back. Though he didn't regret any of his actions – he'd do everything mostly the same, if he had the chance – he knew that those actions had consequences.

Most importantly, that he'd made a lot of enemies who would take any sign of weakness as an opportunity to attack.

He had no idea which enemy had sent his still-unseen assailant. There was a good chance that it was just someone who wanted to make a name for themselves and reap the benefits in progression. Or maybe a settler who didn't like humans. He just didn't know.

What he did know was that if he hadn't stagnated for the last few months, he might have been in a better position to take the attack. With how hard it had hit him, he would've still been gravely injured, even if he had the benefit of twenty or so more levels. However, he probably would have taken the war elves out more quickly, and thus, wouldn't have been as vulnerable. Maybe he could have avoided it altogether.

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The fact was that he just didn't know how things might have played out. What he did know was that he couldn't afford to sit still. Not anymore. Not with all the threats – both personal and to the entire world – arrayed against him.

With that in mind, he focused on healing, all the while planning to hunt down his assailant. Venka had already given him a good idea which direction to go. His hunters had tracked the attacker into the nearby jungle, but had lost the trail soon after. Elijah would find his prey, though. He was certain of it. And when he did, he would rip the person limb from limb.

First, recuperation, though.

As his various spells and abilities worked on rebuilding his ruined torso, he focused on something he'd neglected over the past few months – his status:

He was unsurprised to see that he'd gained quite a few levels during the battle. Slaughtering tens of thousands of war elves, even when they weren't all ascended, had awarded him a ton of experience. Not individually, but collectively. However, he expected that the bulk of his progress had come from killing the higher level war elves. Like the so-called Wardwrights. Or the zealous Warcallers. Even the Tacticians clearly had a few levels under their belts.

After all, that army had been fighting for years, sweeping across the entire region and leaving nothing but dead bodies in their wake. It was no shock that killing them would result in more progress than he had experienced in some time.

Still, Elijah was far more interested in the next notification he'd received:

He had yet to make a decision, largely because he didn't need to yet. He wasn't going to move until he was entirely healed. For all he knew, the attacker was still out there, ready to hit him the second he left the tent. Elijah didn't intend to give them the chance until he was back to full strength.

As a result, he'd had plenty of time to go over his depressingly vague options, and as far as he could tell, they came down to three distinct evolutionary threads for his sometimes-neglected ability. He still used Flicker Step fairly often, but doing so was less the result of conscious thought and more an instinctive integration into the way he fought. Though he knew that was an inefficient way to use it – better would have been for everything to be intentional and planned – he knew that, in the heat of battle, he was often far too distracted to correct it.

Perhaps when he took the next step in mind cultivation, which was another vital task on the horizon, and one which he'd neglected of late, he'd become better about using all of his abilities at peak efficiency. Regardless, he looked at his spell evolutions as opportunities to shore up his own, often faulty strategy. He could change the way he approached combat, or he could change the spells to fit his habits.

This was probably one of the latter.

In any case, the first option, labeled Phantoms, was all about defense. The second, called Veil, seemed focused on stealth. And the third – Fury – was predictably dedicated to attack.

Flicker Step had only ever been usable in his Shape of the Predator line of forms, so the inclusion of a defensive option initially seemed out of place. Or that was the case right up until he realized that, with Shape of the Scourge, he'd shifted the form away from a stealth-focused ambush predator. In the form of the scourgedrake, he could still use Guise of the Unseen, and most of the time, it was sufficient. However, the shape was more focused on venom than anything else – as he'd discovered most recently when he'd failed to infiltrate two camps.

Would that have been the case if he'd chosen a different evolution? Maybe. Perhaps not. But he believed that choices had consequences, and the moment he'd decided to embrace the scourgedrake evolution, he'd put himself on a different path.

Now, he had the choice of embracing that path by taking the Phantom or Fury evolutions or correcting course by taking the Veil option. The former would make him stronger, but the latter would shore up his weakness.

For days, he'd gone back and forth on the subject. Each option had its merits. But at the end of the day, he believed that doubling down on strengths was far preferable to filling in the chinks in his armor.

So, Veil was out.

His current stealth was good enough, and he held out hope that one day soon, he'd gain an opportunity to evolve Guise of the Unseen. Until then, it would have to be enough.

Given that philosophy, the choice between Phantom and Fury seemed obvious. Shape of the Scourge was meant as an offensive form, so Fury seemed like the natural fit. Yet, Elijah's mind kept creeping back to Phantom. Evasion was right there in the description, which seemed to give it a defensive cast. However, there was something about it that triggered his instincts to suggest that it would be more expansive than that.

So far, his instincts had yet to lead him down the wrong path. With that in mind, he made his choice, resulting in another notification:

Elijah wasn't sure what to make of that description, but he was eager to test it out. In the meantime, though, he focused on putting the finishing touches on his convalescence. His responsibilities, now that they'd been acknowledged and accepted, weighed heavily on his shoulders, but before he could get to them, he had someone to hunt.