The Dragon Heir (A Monster Evolution/Progression LitRPG)

Ah. So violence was the universal language. Should've known. There was something perversely gratifying about grinding him underfoot, my tentacles muffling his whimpers into nothing. One of my tentacles constricted his throat, and the symphony of cracks beneath the grip suggested I'd overshot firm and landed squarely in oops.

He blacked out eventually. Pity. I'd been restraining myself too as the man was so fragile, one earnest squeeze would've reduced him to a bag of wet gravel. But even holding back was annoying. There's a certain thrill to a proper beatdown, but when your opponent folds like soggy parchment and dies if you so much as sneeze at them, the joy kind of... exits stage left.

I dropped the unconscious, bruised, and very naked Saryn enforcer on the ground and turned my attention to his uniform.

The prisoner, eyes wide, forehead beading with sweat, stayed frozen in place. Smart. He didn't scream or bolt, which told me he still had at least two brain cells rubbing together. A thoughtful little hostage. How courteous.

"Turn around," I snarled.

He obeyed instantly, spine straightening like a scolded pup. Good boy.

I pulled my bracer from my mouth and shifted back into my Drakkari form. No time for dramatics, I had a schedule to fake. I slipped into the enforcer's uniform, yanked my golden mane into a bun, and shoved the cap over it. Bit of dirt on the face, a smear of the guy's blood for good measure, just enough to look like I'd been through the same meat grinder as the rest of them. With my features mostly disguised, I gave the prisoner his cue.

"Face me again," I said, seizing his arm. "Move." I left the enforcer's broken heap without a backward glance.

"What are you?" he breathed as we stepped into the light. Still shaking. As he should be. Only red cores morph into beasts. The elite. The nightmares. In a city this size, maybe a hundred walk among millions. You don't need to be a mathematician to grasp those odds.

I could mulch a dozen of them right now. But why spoil the surprise?

"Your fortunate accident, sweetheart," I purred. The endearment soured on my tongue, sounded better in my head ugh, but I'd learned something: pair a pet name with a knife's edge smile and it sticks! "I scraped you off the pavement. So play your part and pretend you're still a terrified little prisoner, hm?"

He nodded. Too eagerly. Hah. Works every time.

And just like that, we were back at the prison facility's threshold. Oh, Thalador, please let this plan work. I was operating on nothing but guesswork and observations, with a generous sprinkling of arrogance. No real guarantees. But if it all went to shit?

Well. I've always been an excellent sprinter.

And run I would! It was supposed to be a recon mission, after all. I hammered that point into my head again as I came to a stop right at the facility's perimeter—just in time for my senses to twitch at the sudden spike of mana in the air.

The guards didn't even glance in my direction. Good. I kept a tight grip on my prisoner's wrist and waited. That mana pulse—whatever it was—faded out just as abruptly as it had appeared. And just like that, it felt like some unseen lock had clicked open.

Right under everyone's noses, I stepped through the gates and entered the prison.

It was massive inside, but that wasn't a problem. With my Air Sense spanning several meters in every direction, sweeping the interior was almost too easy.

The prison was tiered, clearly segregated by strength. The bottom rung held the common rabble—non-cultivators, mana-havers without a path. You'd be surprised how many of those there are, just drifting with power they barely understand. Next tier was for those under yellow core, packed in enchanted cages. Then came the big leagues—custom containment for top-tier yellows and red cores. You could feel the hierarchy in the walls.

First things first: lose the prisoner.

I shadowed a group of enforcers herding captives and unceremoniously dumped mine behind the enchanted bars. Poof. Debt paid. He got rescued from a beating; I got a free pass inside. Mutual back-scratching, really.

The layout was predictable: cells, guards, rinse and repeat. And miraculously, nobody looked at me twice. When you hire by the thousand, faces blur. Anyone who hesitated got a glare sharp enough to flay skin. The battered uniform helped. So did the fact that my current resting expression screams "I dare you."

Didn't take long to find him.

The hunch in his shoulders, the beard, the facial structure that the wind itself had whispered to me—it was Vorak. He was close. I picked up the pace until I reached his cell.

It was one of the special ones, and that alone made me frown. The setup looked too polished—too prepared. Like these containment cells were designed to hold something else entirely… before they started housing people.

I brushed off the thought. Irrelevant.

The cell itself had no bars, just a reinforced glass wall with a few air holes scattered along the sides, for ventilation, sure, but it also let my Air Sense slip inside. Everything beyond the glass was stark white. Vorak sat in the corner, looking like a breathing corpse. Head bowed, back slouched against the wall. Whatever light he once had in those eyes was long gone.

He looked broken.

I waited for the patrolling guards to pass to the other end of the block, then stepped up to the window.

And just like that, his eyes shot up.

"What the fuck do you vultures want now?"

The venom in his voice was almost impressive. Not scary—just startling. Weirdly charming, in the way a rabid wolf might be if it weren't actively trying to eat you. His words should've been a roar, but all that escaped the vents was a ragged hiss.

"I bled for the Pact! And this is my thanks?! I offered you all to use the truth serum! I opened my skull for your damn lie-detectors! But no, just this… barbaric breaking, huh?!"

Yeah, he looked just about broken. Glazed eyes, slumped posture, mouth still moving like it had a chance of reaching someone. Spitting out one last round of logic like it'd matter. It didn't. And he knew it, too. He knew they weren't letting him out.

He looked like he wanted to say he was being framed… but something stopped him. Couldn't find the words, or maybe the weight of it had just crushed them out of him.

Used. Just like me.

Well, no more of that. Because I was his salvation now.

Sure, I said this was just a recon mission. Observe, retreat, report to Lysska. Keep a low profile. But c'mon—he was right there. Practically gift-wrapped. Who needs Lysska? I could collect intel and improvise just fine on my own, thank you very much.

I gave Vorak one last pitying glance as I turned away, pretending to pace. Trying to look busy while my brain spun up plans. How exactly was I going to get him out?

And I did come to an answer. It just... wasn't subtle. It meant showing him what I really was. Which honestly I would've rather avoided. Alice could've divined the optimal outcome if she were here. But she wasn't. And after coming this far, I wasn't leaving empty-handed.

Screw it. He was getting an express ride courtesy of my highly exclusive draconic transport service… whether he liked it or not.

I turned back toward the cell and stepped up again just as the patrol disappeared around the far bend. Vorak narrowed his eyes. He could tell something was off, but he couldn't quite figure it out. My appearance had changed a bit, sure, but the blood smears and fake bruises were doing their job.

So I gave him the full reveal.

I removed my bracer and, in a blink, shifted back to my half-dragon form, golden-scaled, tentacles twitching behind me like coiled serpents. Eleven feet tall, standing in the ruined scraps of the uniform. I didn't even flinch as the fabric tore off. Whatever. That outfit served its purpose. I stuffed the bracer back in my mouth, and without hesitation, phased right through the glass.

Vorak nearly jumped out of his skin.

"W-what the—?! No fucking way a four-star's a red core—"

Ah. Right. The stars on the uniform. Forgot about those.

But I'd been picking up tricks. I was ready for this.

"Oh, sweetroll," I crooned, immediately regretting it. The man was a geriatric wreck, but the script demanded theatrics. "Adorable. You're adorable when you panic."

He recoiled. Good. Fear smells better than despair.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten me already..." I clicked my tongue menacingly.

His face did something complicated. My Air Sense pinged, patrol returning in 8 seconds.

"Be right back," I sang, and vanished.

A ripple of stamina shimmered out as Phantom Dragon Dance activated. I vanished in a flicker, my presence bleeding from the air like a ghost that never existed.

Vorak's reaction was telling. He blinked around in confusion, clearly unable to detect me. Good. Even someone like him was clueless.

Down the hall—

"The fuck is this?" One guard toeing my shredded uniform.

His partner knelt. "How'd this get-"

My tentacles answered.

Oh, these tentacles. I'd never appreciated them more. One pair slipped down their throats before they could scream—beautiful. Another pair wrapped both their wrists, yanking their arms behind them as they gagged and flailed.

The color drained from their faces the moment they saw my draconic face looming inches away.

Ahhh. That priceless look. The moment they realize:

They're prey

They always were

I slammed their heads together with a satisfying thwack and let their unconscious bodies drop like sacks of meat. For good measure, I gave them each a follow-up whack with a tentacle. You know… confirmation. Can't be too careful.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

And just like that, I phased back into Vorak's cell.

Even the way his fear spiked in the air was... tempting. Thick and cloying, like syrupy dread. But I wasn't here to snack, I had business. Pity.

"Ah, don't worry," I said, voice smooth as I stepped closer. "I'm happy to reintroduce myself. Name's Jade. I know the look's changed a bit, but I assure you, still me." My eyes curved into crescents. "Just a little deadlier."

He stared. His jaw worked uselessly for a second before the questions spinning in his head finally caught up with his tongue. He opened his mouth, "You.. how…."

"No time for that," I cut in, raising a claw. "I am here to save you, in the end. I'm sure we've both got stories, probably even overlapping trauma, but this isn't the place or time. We need to move."

He blinked. "But… how? You'll have every enforcer on your tail the second you try to escape."

"Oh, I've got transport covered." I leaned in, tilting my head. "Quick question though, how do you feel about tight spaces?"

His brows knotted. "What?"

"Specifically," I clarified, "when they're alive. Pulsing. Maybe... tooth-lined."

A beat of silence.

Then comprehension dawned and his expression curdled like spoiled milk.

Magnificent.

****

"Viera… are you really sure about this?"

Viera looked up at the tall Rakai, and her expression soured. "Can you not, Rhys? I didn't ask you to come with me, so if it's making you uncomfortable, just… go back."

"I just can't leave you alone out here."

"Then stop questioning me, for ancestors' sake!"

"You know what?" Kara chimed in. "I'm with Rhys on this one, Viera."

Viera turned, startled.

Kara continued, her patience clearly worn thin. "Look, I still respect that you're trying to find your friend. I get it. But what we've been doing? It's just circling the same places over and over in the middle district, hoping something magically shows up while the lower district's turning into a war zone. There are riots breaking out… we can hear the fighting from here. And it's been four hours since we left, all without supervision. Please… let's just go back."

And the worst part was they weren't wrong.

Viera knew they were being logical. The streets were dangerous, especially for someone alone, which, technically, she had planned to be. But no one else was looking for Jade. When Viera went to her father for help, he flat-out refused and grounded her instead. Told her not to get involved. Told her to stay out of whatever this mess was.

They were calling Jade a Vor'akh. A terrorist.

Those bastards.

Anyone who'd spent any time with Jade would know she wasn't like that. She didn't even have friends, except Viera. So if Viera didn't look for her… who would?

But still. What was she even doing? Wandering around to places Jade had once visited, hoping for… what? A trail? A clue? Life didn't just drop answers from the sky because you wanted them badly enough. That kind of thing only worked in fiction. In reality, you just… wore yourself out.

Viera's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry…" she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Kara hugged her almost instantly, arms wrapping around her in the way only Kara could. Everyone knew Viera's love language was being hugged, Kara included. She gave the best ones. Maybe Jade did too, somewhere deep down… though she'd never been the physical affection type.

"I'm not saying you're wrong," Kara said softly as she pulled back, hands now gripping Viera's. "And I don't believe for a second that what they're accusing her of is true. When you said you checked her room and none of the things they 'found' were ever there before… I believe you. I do. There's definitely something shady going on. But you need to understand, Viera, our safety has to come first."

Viera looked up into her eyes and found herself met with a steady, unwavering gaze.

"We'll come back," Kara said firmly. "But next time, we plan. We figure out what we're actually looking for."

Viera nodded slowly.

Rhys stepped a bit closer, worry still etched across his face. "You alright?"

Viera exhaled. "Just… a little tired." Then bit her tongue and forced the rest out. "Let's go home."

All of them were currently in the outermost part of the middle district, hugging the periphery of the lower one. This was the same route Jade always took on her way down. Even now, the streets were packed. The recent Vor'akh attack had stirred the pot, paranoia simmered under every breath. The lockdown of a district wasn't taken lightly. Today, it was just the lower district. But how long before the fire spread upward?

Viera stepped out of the tavern they'd paused in, just for a breather. As she did, something pricked her instincts. From the corner of her eye, a cloaked figure emerged from the tavern behind them. At first, he seemed like another patron, but the moment his steps aligned toward her with purpose, she knew something was wrong.

Rhys noticed too. He stepped in front of her without a word.

The figure drew closer and pulled back his hood, revealing a striking Zaryn face. An eagle-kin? They were rare. The only other one Viera had ever seen was Master Vasilisa. That made this even stranger.

"How may I help... you?" Kara asked, stepping in on Viera's behalf.

The Zaryn offered a disarming smile. His feathered brow twitched. "No need to be defensive, lady. I just happened to overhear your conversation earlier."

That only made Viera's instincts scream louder.

From beneath his cloak, he flashed a badge, the Iron Pact insignia.

"I'm an official investigator. No need to panic. I just wanted to talk."

Viera didn't buy it. "We have nothing to say. Sorry. We're heading back."

She turned and instantly froze. The Zaryn was already standing in front of her.

Her breath caught. She glanced back. He had vanished from where he was a second ago.

"Well," the Zaryn said, tone suddenly flatter, "I tried being polite. Unfortunately, I didn't ask for your permission, little lady."

"You're not allowed to do that unless you've got a warrant from the Pact!" Rhys shot back. He'd just graduated from the academy. He knew the rules.

The Zaryn laughed. "Hah. Never thought I'd hear someone use that against me. Be careful, young lad. There are people in the Pact who are above such... petty things."

Then his tone darkened. "Anyway, I'm here to talk about a certain... friend of yours. Jade." His emerald eyes locked on Viera.

But Kara stepped forward. "Do you know who she is? She's the Heir of the Ashwind Sect. You'd better watch your fucking tone."

The Zaryn didn't even blink.

Viera grit her teeth. "We've said enough. She was my friend. And she didn't do anything you're blaming her for!"

She grabbed Rhys and Kara and turned to leave, but they didn't get three steps before a crushing pressure slammed down around them.

Rhys reacted fast, grabbing them both and leaping back just as a massive broadsword came crashing down where they'd stood. The shockwave threw them across the plaza.

Viera's breath hitched. That power, t had to be at least red core level.

A Rakari woman landed beside the blade and yanked it free from the stone.

"I told you these noble fucks wouldn't play nice," she growled, cracking her neck. "But nooo. You wanted to be polite. Waste of time."

But Rhys looked the most shaken. His voice cracked.

"B-Bloodhounds."

Viera followed his gaze. The woman's belt bore an insignia, three snarling hound heads.

Only one team in the entire Iron Pact carried their own emblem.

The name alone sent chills down Viera's spine.

Everyone knew of the Iron Pact's seasoned hunting hounds. There wasn't a single criminal who had escaped once they caught the scent. Ruthless, cruel, whoever stood between them and their target was just fair game. Collateral damage meant nothing to them.

Rumors claimed they'd once faced a lowgold and lived to tell the tale. Their team was a pack of veteran red cores, each teetering on the edge of gold.

And suddenly, everything started making sense.

Viera's eyes narrowed as she whispered in horror, "This wasn't random… was it?"

The man raised his brows.

"You didn't just happen to hear our conversation. Unlike us, your kind knows exactly what you're doing. You don't loiter in taverns on a whim, waiting for fate to throw you a bone." Her terror was giving way to anger, her voice sharp. "How long have you been following us?"

He opened his mouth, "Oh, you mis-"

But the woman cut him off with a scoff. "Oh, shut up. Save the act. No need to indulge them."

She turned toward Viera and grinned. "Since tea time, sweetheart. Back in your cozy little abode, talking about your precious detour. You should've checked behind your curtain. But this guy," she jerked a thumb at the Zaryn, "is a peak pervert. This creep could stalk the sun and never cast a shadow. We've been on your tails for hours, waiting for you to lead us to your precious friend. Guess you weren't just playing dumb. You really are."

She tsked, then narrowed her eyes and that strange pressure returned, slamming into Viera like a wall of invisible weight. "Why? Got a problem?"

The pressure peaked. Viera started choking on the air, coughing violently.

"Divna." The Zaryn's hand clamped on the woman's shoulder. "Enough."

The pressure vanished as suddenly as it came. Viera gasped, coughing violently.

Terrifying as it was, Viera noticed something else—a pattern.

This woman was dangerous… but not entirely unpredictable.

"W-why approach us now?" she rasped, still catching her breath. "Even though you know we don't know where Jade is?"

A part of her already knew the answer.

Divna grinned wide, teeth bared.

"Well, I figured you were retarded, judging by the sappy crap I had to sit through about your 'friendship.' But turns out, maybe not. So I gave it a chance. Your friendship! How could I resist?"

She leaned closer.

"Tell me, little mouse... do you think your dear friend would come running if she knew you were in danger?"

The Zaryn interjected, voice measured: "We're placing you in protective-"

"Blah Blah Blah… Cut the crap." Divna hefted her broadsword, the metal singing as it settled against her shoulder. Her eyes gleamed with predatory delight. "Every hunt needs fresh bait. And guess who's on the menu?"