Path of Dragons

Kurik leaped aside, narrowly dodging an oncoming veinroot. The fleshy tendril changed direction at the last second, wrapping around his ankle and fouling his maneuver. Panicked as it dragged him toward the wall, he hacked at it with his new hatchet. The bone-handled axe bit deep, but the rubbery veinroot was anything but easy to sever. Thankfully, with his recent influx of levels, Kurik had enough strength and dexterity that, when he hit it a second time, the axe tore through it.

Blood squirted everywhere as the veinroot went wild, waving in the air and bathing the entire area in red. Kurik sprang to his feet, dragged his dagger from his belt, then waded into the fray. Every swing of his axe bit through the wrist-thick tendril, sending bits of grotesque flesh and more blood flying in every direction. Finally, he reached the thing's base and cut it down to a useless stump.

Only then did he wheel around to observe the in-progress battle.

The creature at the center of the hollow was, in a word, disturbing. Tall and grossly thin, its long arms moved like bony whips. A half-dozen good dwarves had already been laid low, and the other six they'd brought along remained on their back feet, barely holding their own. Meanwhile, a few goblins and gnomes slashed in from the rear, cutting into the creature with daggers and shortswords.

At the same time, nearly as many ranged attackers aimed projectiles and spells at the monster. Those attacks normally fell short, blocked by waving tentacles. The ones that landed were grossly ineffective, leaving only small wounds behind.

More dwarves, humans, goblins, and gnomes joined Kurik in guarding against the veinroots attached to the spiky walls. Left unattended, they would creep forward, wrap around the attack team, and drag them to their deaths. Kurik himself was among those guardians, having taken an entire side to himself. Even as he observed the battle, his vine traps tangled with the veinroots, keeping them occupied.

The only reason he'd taken an attack at all was because he hadn't accounted for the hollow's entrance. That had been a mistake.

The skittering, fleshy slap of a thousand small, finger-like legs drew his attention to the rear, and he saw an entire swarm of those grotesque flesh spiders coming his way. They moved like a wave, rolling toward him with inexorable inevitability.

He leaped backward, already reaching into his Key of Twisted Ethera and retrieving a handful of seeds. Then, he activated Seedburst:

Over the past month, Kurik had experimented quite a bit with the first ability he'd received from his Thorned Saboteur class evolution, so he knew what to expect. However, when he threw the seeds, he still couldn't help but gape in awe as they rapidly took root, blooming into fully grown plants.

The flowers themselves resembled orchids, but they were nearly three feet long. More importantly, they glistened with enough ethera that, in any other situation, they might have been mistaken for natural treasures. They also moved of their own accord, wheeling to face the oncoming swarm of flesh spiders.

Clutching the key hanging from a thong around his neck, Kurik reached into his spatial storage, retrieving another handful of seeds. As he prepared to throw them, the flowers reared back, and as one, fired blobs of sticky sap at the swarm. From experience, Kurik knew that the substance was initially quite thin, so it splashed across the entire horde. After only a split second, it hardened into amber.

The first wave of flesh spiders came to a screeching halt.

The flowers continued to fire upon them, though Kurik knew they wouldn't last much longer. Already, they had begun to wilt. That was the cost of his ability. Rapid growth. Rapid death. He was no Druid, after all. He wasn't like Nerthus or Elijah. Compared to their artistry, his manipulation of vitality and nature was more akin to a cave painting.

Still, it got the job done, and soon enough, the entire horde of flesh spiders were stuck in place. That was when he threw the second set of seeds. Due to the power involved – and the nature of the plants themselves – this set was much slower to grow. Instead of reaching maturity in the space of a couple of seconds, it would take a full minute.

However, the sap was more than capable of holding the grotesque arachnids for that long. Briefly, Kurik glanced back at the ongoing battle. They hadn't made much progress, but Miguel – atop Trevor's back – had finally dispatched his enemy and joined the fray. He lanced in, aiming a sword strike at the monster's outstretched arm. It sliced deep, stopping only when it hit bone.

The creature lashed out, but by that point, Miguel was gone. A ball of purple fire hit the thing a second later, burning into its chest. Then, a massive cat leaped upon its back, tearing into the creature with its claws before springing away. The monster screamed something unintelligible, but by that point, Kurik had turned his focus on his own task. If he failed, then everyone would die. Most of the time, the flesh spiders were little more than an annoyance, but in the middle of a battle against a powerful foe, the distraction they represented would be enough to destroy everything.

People would die. Maybe not the most powerful among them, but any loss was too great to countenance. So far, they'd avoided it, but there had been too far too many close calls.

By the time Kurik returned his attention to the swarm, the second batch of seeds had begun to grow. Even as the thin vines snaked out, wrapping around them, the flesh spiders screeched their terror. It didn't matter. By that point, they were already dead. They just didn't know it yet.

The vines continued to grow until bristling thorns sprouted. Those sharp protrusions had no trouble piercing the little monsters' skin. That was one of the trap's primary characteristics. Armor piercing. He and Nerthus had worked hard to make that happen.

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Then, after every single creature had multiple vines wrapped around it, those wicked and barbed thorns embedded in their bodies, the tendrils writhed. A mist of blood erupted into the air as those vines moved even faster, ripping through flesh and bone until only pieces remained.

An influx of experience told Kurik just how many creatures had died.

Not as much as when they'd first arrived, but still, enough to push him to the next level. The rate of progression was insane, and he couldn't help but marvel at his good fortune. It only took one look back at the monster at the center of the hollow to swallow that feeling.

Good fortune definitely wasn't the right term.

Horror was probably more appropriate.

He stood his ground as, behind him, the last of the spiders were torn to pieces. Meanwhile, the monster remained in surprisingly good health. The thing must've had a ridiculous regeneration attribute, given just how quickly its wounds healed. The only ones that seemed to stick were Isaak's purple soulfire and Miguel's lancing attacks. Even Trevor's beams of moonlight were only mildly effective, and Kurik had seen that young stag decimate entire hordes of chimeras.

Kurik decided to lend some assistance, tossing a few mundane traps at the monster. They weren't as effective as his plant-based traps, but that was to be expected. Still, an ethereal explosion was still quite damaging, regardless of the direction of his class.

Even so, the battle went on for hours more. They had no choice but to whittle the thing down. As the monster weakened, it became more aggressive. Because of that, it took a little more damage, but it also dished out quite a lot of violence.

Thankfully, Ron was there.

The man was a whirlwind of ethera and vitality, tossing out one healing spell after another. More than once since they'd entered the Chimeric Forge, Kurik had considered the fact that Ron was absolutely wasted in a clinic. The man was a born battle Healer, and even more talented than that implied. The way he managed his ethera was absolutely astounding, and his ability to keep track of everyone rivaled that of a Tactician.

Without him, their expedition would have been doomed. To call him the lynchpin of the entire affair was actually an understatement, and watching him work was a treat that most people never could have appreciated. So long as he was around, people just didn't die.

But even he had his limits, and he'd begun to approach his. Kurik could see it in his sagging shoulders and the lagging frequency of his spellcasts.

Thankfully, Miguel was also there. In his chosen role, the boy was even more talented than Ron. Or Kurik. Or anyone else there. The only reason he wasn't even more effective was because his levels lagged a bit behind everyone else's. Even so, one thing was obvious – his family was built entirely differently than everyone else.

Not only was his uncle a monster, but his mother was abnormal as well.

Carmen was right next to all the other frontline fighters. Her silver armor shone with purple accents as she swung her hammer like an inexhaustible machine. She was just a crafter. By all rights, she shouldn't have been capable of standing toe-to-toe with real fighters.

But nobody had told her that.

And given her strength, nobody was going to. If her son was talent in motion, then she was an example of sheer endurance. Each time her hammer slammed into the monster, bones broke. If it wasn't equipped with such high regeneration, she'd have long since reduced it to a pile of shattered bones and ruined flesh.

As it was, it took everyone's combined efforts – and an explosion of power from Isaak, who was their heaviest hitter by far – to kill the monster off.

"How in all the hells did Elijah do this alone?" Kurik muttered to himself when the thing finally went down. By that point, it was little more than a mass of charred flesh. He answered his own question, "He ain't normal is how."

"I think that's an understatement," said Ron, leaning on his staff. It was a new addition, crafted from grove wood. A gift from his daughter, it was characteristically flamboyant, with a giant blue crystal at its head. Ron's robes were also quite sparkly, though not as overtly flashy as the ones he'd worn during the Trial of Primacy. Ron grinned. "I forgot how exhilarating this kind of thing could be."

"Bah. Ain't nothin' exhiliratin' about it."

Carmen, her massive, silver-and-purple hammer propped on her armored shoulder, approached. She flipped up the visor of her helmet, revealing a sweat-sheened face. "That thing was a bitch," she remarked. "How it kept healing…not fair at all."

"Primal Realms ain't s'posed to be fair, 'specially for folks like us. We ain't exactly prime ore. Back home, ain't nobody but the elite of the elite got to go into Primal Realms."

"I think you're selling yourself short," Ron said, gripping the dwarf's shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"If you're not elite, I don't know who is," Carmen added.

"I'm definitely elite," said a grinning Isaak, who'd just approached. "Miggy is too. And Artemis is stronger than all of us."

The cat in question let out a purr of approval as she rubbed against his leg. Kurik couldn't really argue with the boy's assessment. Not after seeing that damned cat in action. She was a terror, and that was a certainty.

"Did Elijah really do this by himself?" Carmen wondered aloud.

They'd all heard his story, and it was even more baffling now than it had been when he'd told it. Back then, the threat was faraway and easy to underestimate. But now? They knew just how strong the monsters were. And what's more, they knew how he'd effectively handicapped himself by doing things the hard way. He'd not even used the Vey'thaal, instead setting out on his own.

Kurik's expedition had taken a completely different tactic, empowering the Vey'thaal by equipping them with proper weaponry and armor. Only then had they set out to carve a path through the endless hordes of chimera. And certainly, they hadn't gone through the Abyssal Glassworks, which was practically suicidal – as they'd discovered after just a little investigation in Vey'thaal.

Unfortunately, Veinroot Hollow was an unavoidable obstacle, and due to the tight confines, only traversable by a couple dozen people at a time. Most of their army remained behind, guarding the entrance from the hordes. Meanwhile, Kurik and the best of the best had tackled the monster at its center.

"Ain't none of us Elijah. Best not to think of him as an example," Kurik said.

Everyone agreed. After spending a few hours recovering, they moved on, eventually exiting the Veinroot Hollow, at the entrance of which they established temporary defenses. That was where Kurik tended to shine, and he spent quite a lot of ethera building a bramble wall to guard against incursion.

It wouldn't last much past a day or so, but during that time, they would be safe.

Soon after, the rest of the army began to arrive. Three-hundred people from Ironshore, nearly half of which were Tradesmen, a hundred combatants from Svetogorsk, and a smattering of fighters from other cities like Philadelphia. More than expected, but less than they probably needed.

Thankfully, Lamar was among them. The defender had insisted upon staying behind to protect the more vulnerable among them. And he'd paid the price, too, picking up a dozen wounds, some of which were serious enough that the other Healers had difficulty dealing with them.

Ron took up the slack, though – for which Lamar expressed immeasurable gratitude.

Initially, Lamar wasn't supposed to come along. He should've been back in Philadelphia protecting against Vinnie. However, when his rival had disappeared, Lamar had been unable to resist the opportunity to gain a few levels in his absence. Hopefully, he'd be back before any of his enemies knew he was even gone.

Once everyone had a chance to rest up, Kurik hacked through the bramble wall and, with Lamar and Carmen in the lead, headed out. Only a day or so later, he saw their destination.

That was also when Oscar rejoined them after scouting the way. The man and his dogs preferred going their own way, and nobody in the Primal Realm was powerful enough to order them around. Thankfully, he was a great scout, perfectly capable of surviving on his own.

The factory in the distance was exactly what he'd expected, massive and belching smoke into the atmosphere. However, Kurik was more interested in the hordes of monsters pouring out of it. As he looked upon them from a low rise, all he saw was a steady stream of experience.

"Glorious. Just glorious," he breathed.

"Not the word I'd use," Ron admitted. He glanced back. "Better get the preparations started. This is going to be a slog."

Kurik couldn't wipe the smile from his face as he got to work.