The Dragon Heir (A Monster Evolution/Progression LitRPG)

A subtle distortion shivered through the air, and a rock simply coalesced into existence on the grassy forest floor.

I scooped it up, studying its unremarkable surface with a frown. Before I could second-guess the process, I willed myself and the stone back into the shadow dimension, depositing it not on the familiar inky ground, but precisely within the darkened silhouette of a tree. I then stepped away, returning alone to the solid world.

Sure enough, the same phenomenon repeated itself: the rock popped back into reality, ejected right beside the tree's solid trunk.

I was running experiments. With my power's new capacity to transport objects and people, I had to finally learn the rules of abandonment. If I left something behind, would it be stranded there permanently, unable to escape without my direct intervention? The implications of that would have been staggering, far more powerful than I'd first imagined.

Turns out, not so much.

The experiment gave me two solid takeaways. First: objects didn't get stuck. They'd eject themselves from the shadow dimension into the 3D world, though there was a noticeable delay, one that scaled with mass possibly. The heavier the object, the longer it loitered in the shadows before popping out.

Second: if I placed something inside a spot where the real world had a solid barrier, like a wall, boulder, or anything equally obstructive, it didn't slice through it. The object isn't spliced or harmed. Instead it just politely relocated itself to the nearest empty space when it emerged.

A few more trials later, both findings held true. Also further solidifying the relationship between an object's mass and the delay in its re-emergence.

It also confirmed a deeper theory of mine, once again relating to dimensional resonance. When I pulled something with me into the shadow dimension, I was forcibly altering its inherent dimensional resonance. The moment I release it, my magic no longer maintained that altered state. Without that anchor, it reverts to its natural, default resonance, state of existing in our world, and is consequently ejected. It operated like an elastic band: I could stretch it and bring it with me, but the moment I let go, it snapped back to its original form and location.

I just wished I had more than my hunches. I didn't know the exact mechanics of dimensional resonance or half the other magical phenomena I'd brushed up against. With real knowledge, I could push my abilities further, use them more creatively, and, more importantly, know my own limits before I stumbled into something fatal.

But my formal education had been cut short. I didn't know if I'd ever make it into an academy, or even if such an opportunity would find me before I found trouble first.

That's partly why, when Gwen laid out my options in Varkaigrad, I picked the alchemy tower as my starting point. I already loved alchemy, and I needed to iron out my issues with shapeshifting. It seemed like the best way to sharpen both skills at once. And it worked, at least for a while.

The few months I spent there before everything fell apart were… formative. I learned a tremendous amount from Vasilisa's guidelines. For all her grumpiness, she was an exceptionally good teacher.

I wondered how she was faring now. A part of me ached to simply return to her; my education felt profoundly unfinished. A more nagging thought followed: did she, too, now consider me a terrorist? It was the official narrative, after all, the story the ruling powers of Varkaigrad were aggressively painting.

I had no way of knowing. But still… I looked down at my own hands.

…Why not?

A slow grin spread across my face.

There would always be consequences. Every ripple I made could swell into a wave trying to drag me under… but I had power now. So why not do whatever the hell I wanted? If I wanted to see Vasilisa, then I'd see her.

And if it came back to bite me in the ass? Well, I'd always been an expert at running.

***

"Potions ready?" I asked Viktor as I blinked back into the workshop.

He flinched, again, but kept his composure, gesturing at the table. Three bottles glimmered under the light. I picked up the green one and took a sniff. The quality was… adequate.

It would do.

"Should be good for ten doses," Viktor said.

I nodded. "Great."

A quick glance around turned up a potion belt. I snagged it. Carrying bottles in my mouth had always been more survivalist than sophisticated, time to upgrade.

That job done, it was my turn to brew. Nothing lethal this time... just tamer concoctions. The really nasty stuff, the kind that could turn a room into a choking grave if aerosolized, had no sense of friend or foe. Besides, brewing that kind of poison took preparation, not the whirlwind pace life was running at now.

"You wanna tell me what exactly you're planning?" Viper finally broke his silence.

I shrugged, finely dicing a Windglow root. "Just need to run an… errand. I've got some unfinished business to attend to. Won't take long, I promise."

Viper didn't look convinced. But convincing him wasn't my job; I had a bigger fish to fry. Soon enough, the next potion was ready, its red tinge and subtle tea-like smell was a perfect signature. It was slightly improvised due to the inferior ingredients on hand, but I'd made it work.

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I added it to my belt, then stepped back and closed my eyes. Alright.

One last experiment before it was showtime.

***

My clone shot me a peculiar look as I handed over the potions, one after another. At the moment, I had my Quantum Nexus active while in my drakkari form, so the Jade staring back at me had golden hair and violet eyes. Another oversight… apparently, I still couldn't replicate clothing the same way I could replicate myself.

No matter. This was just a quick field test. Once I got back to the city, picking up, or more accurately, lifting a few extra dresses would be trivial.

The clone tipped back the first potion, and the change was instant. She shrank ever so slightly as her skin lightened until it was pale and porcelain-like. Perfect. After another two doses, her eyes burned crimson, and her hair gleamed like polished silver under moonlight.

I let out a quiet breath of relief. This proved it beyond doubt, my clones weren't hollow constructs made of Quantum Mana in my image. They were alive in the biological sense, with all the same active functions I had. They weren't like me. They were me.

It only drove home just how absurd this Quantum Affinity was. This wasn't pure mana manipulation as it was brushing up against the threshold of creating life itself. Not quite there, but uncomfortably close.

I dismissed the clone. With the theory confirmed, it was time to act. Time to show those damned Bloodhounds exactly what kind of dragon they'd made the mistake of crossing.

And killing them? Nope. That was too quick and too merciful. My real goal was to etch my face into their nightmares so deeply they'd wake up sweating for the rest of their lives. Marrow-deep fear was what I wanted, the kind you can't wash out.

Gilded wings unfurled from the slit in my dress, and I slipped once more into the shadow dimension.

Acquiring a few overhanging garments from the lower district's laundry lines was effortless. I took three practical sets. For good measure, I located a particularly unpleasant bald thug, relieved him of his coin purse after a brief but satisfying scuffle, and left the spoils in the home whose clothes I'd borrowed. These people already had enough trouble without me adding theft to it. Equivalent exchange, in my book.

With that done, I set out to track the Bloodhounds. Didn't take long, they might as well have been standing on a street corner waving banners. The rumors were everywhere, and clearly on purpose. If they wanted the message to reach me, there was no faster delivery system than the city's favorite courier service: a noisy tavern.

By the fourth pub, I struck gold, or rather, a scarred loudmouth. He was practically shouting the "news" to his buddies, and every set of ears nearby was drinking it in.

That Vor'akh friends have been taken in for questioning by the Bloodhounds. Soon, she'll be hunted too.

I adored how profoundly they underestimated me. And just as they had intended when spreading these rumors, my ears caught every delicious detail of their location. A slow grin spread across my features.

It was such an obvious bait. Just as Lysska had warned.

But I am no damn fish.

This dragon was going to swallow the bait, the line, and the very hands that held the rod.

***

I stared at the three clones standing before me, each wearing the same deadpan expression I knew all too well. They were dressed in patchwork, ragged clothing, barely more than stitched scraps, but as long as the fabric covered their forms, it was sufficient; their impoverished appearance was the least of my concerns.

Silver hair, crimson, piercing eyes, petite stature, they were perfect replicas of my pre-evolution self. Even I looked the same right now after taking the same potions, though I wouldn't be appearing alongside them. My entrance was going to be… a little later.

Five minutes.

That was all they had before vanishing. Five minutes to squeeze every drop of information I could about the Bloodhounds' capabilities.

I might have pride, but I wasn't stupid. My win against that low-gold rank earlier was satisfying, but not enough to make me abandon caution. I had tools in my repertoire built for gathering intel without showing my face, so why wouldn't I use them? No… why wouldn't I abuse them?

A trap was undoubtedly waiting. My plan was to spring it, to let it snap shut on empty air before the real me ever set foot inside.

They called themselves veterans. I would be the one to test that claim, to see how they handled being played with.

With a deep breath, I partitioned my consciousness and seized control of the first clone. Immediately, my perspective split. I was now looking out from two sets of eyes, my own, and the clone's. As usual when using this ability, my original body stood frozen in place like a silent statue. I could still sense everything around it, see and hear from its position; it was like possessing two separate fields of air sense. The only price was a complete paralysis of my main form. This trade-off mattered very little for the task at hand.

I looked around through the clone's eyes. We were positioned in an abandoned warehouse, one of many such decaying structures that littered the outskirts of Veilwoods. The building was a skeleton being slowly reclaimed by nature and its rusted frame was choked by thick, overgrown vines.

The Bloodhounds had chosen a similar warehouse seven blocks down to welcome me. I had selected this specific ruin as our staging ground precisely in case any of my enemies possessed a sensory ability like my own. So it was a necessary precaution to keep my true location obscured.

With a mental push, I ordered the other two clones to follow the one under my direct control. Then, in unison, three silver haired girls slipped into the Shadow Dimension and made a beeline for the trap.

Emerging from the bushes, I held my position, scrutinizing the entire structure before committing to a move. My air sense was already pinging with a constellation of hidden presences. Iron Pact enforcers, without a doubt, concealed by some form of enchantment or obscuring magic. I counted at least twenty of them surrounding the perimeter, sitting with a predator's still patience. I had to give them credit for their discipline. Would they sit there for days if I never appeared? Perhaps they worked in shifts. It didn't matter.

My senses reached further, into the warehouse itself. The layout was complex, with multiple chambers partitioned inside. Another twenty presences lurked within. I couldn't tell if they were hidden, as my air sense provided outline and location but not visual detail.

It was much deeper inside that I felt the vague, familiar outline of Viera, and a surge of cold anger tightened in my chest. She wasn't alone. The faint impression of a woman was seated with her, the broad shape of a sword strapped to her back clear to my senses. Her lips were moving; she was talking to Viera. And Viera was with the others, Rhys, that tall, beefy guy, and Kara. I hadn't spoken with them much, but I knew they were her anchor. Now they were all here, pinned like specimens, hostages used as bait to draw out a 'criminal' like me by the city's official enforcers.

Oh well.

I stepped out of the foliage, my two other clones holding their positions in the shadows, and put on a wide grin. I took a single, deliberate step forward.

The reaction was instantaneous. I felt necks snap in my direction from the enforcers stationed on the rooftops and hidden around the grounds. A silent communication seemed to ripple through them as a wave of alertness that snapped everyone inside the warehouse to immediate attention.

The woman with Viera stilled mid-sentence, then turned her attention toward me. Even at this distance, through nothing but faint air pressure, I could read the curl of her lips into a grin. Slowly, she reached back and took hold of her broadsword.

Her trap had worked… at least, that's what she thought.

I stepped forward again, my own grin sharpening. It was time to wipe that smug curl right off her ugly face.