The Dragon Heir (A Monster Evolution LitRPG)

The exit led us into a tunnel, where a line of glowing runes was embedded in the walls, making me think of enchanting on a rather grand scale. I cast one last glance at the portal stone formation. Similar lines adorned the floor, lines I hadn't noticed before. It struck me that this portal wasn't just a portal but had some other purpose I wasn't aware of. Blast this alien script; I couldn't make heads or tails of it.

But alas, my curiosity was fleeting.

We stumbled into a vast hall, a grandiose cavern filled with hooded figures standing in the aisles. They were all chanting in unison, a low, droning murmur that felt more like a prayer than a ritual chant.

I craned my neck, squinting to see if there was any sort of ritual circle beneath their feet. But there wasn't a trace of one! Why were they chanting outside the ritual circles? It made no sense. Lotte had once mentioned something about the necessity of being within the circle for the chanting to be effective. I had no clue.

The ceiling soared high above, disappearing into the shadows or maybe just painted a deep, inky black. Towering columns supported it, each adorned with carvings of the same cryptic script. The runes seemed to be linked to the ritual, making me wonder if they acted as a sort of Mana Focus—a continuous script designed to condense ambient mana. The pillars gleamed, perhaps they were made entirely of metal. A mana conductor, perhaps? Orichalcum? Going by their deep grey colour, it made sense! I had cracked it!

I would have patted myself on the back for it, truly, it was worth a bit of self-congratulation. But this moment of mine was cut short as my eyes widened in horror.

We had emerged right in the middle of the chanting crowd, and the scene before me was horrific. The first thing that hit me was the scent: a mix of burning incense and a distinct coppery tang. I should have noticed it sooner with my keen senses, but perhaps my mind had been elsewhere.

A massive ritual was the only fitting description for the spectacle in front of me. At the centre of it all was a colossal serpent-like monster, its scales peeled away as it was pinned to an equally enormous board covered in runes. But that sight alone didn't make my stomach churn. No, it was what lay beneath that turned my insides to ice.

I counted five. Five beast-kin, their twisted horns eerily similar to mine, strung up. They were gutted, their intestines and organs removed, leaving only their skeletal spines visible. They hung upside down, with ornate, scripted pillars driven through their mouths. Their hands and feet were tied back as if they were praying. Blood still trickled from these pillars, pooling at their bases where ritual circles were inscribed. This blood fed into channels of strange runes carved into these circles, creating this macabre lattice. It pulsed every time a blood droplet landed on them.

My stomach churned violently. My eyes were locked onto the horrific scene, unable to look away despite every fibre of my being screaming to do so. I wanted to turn, to flee, to erase the image from my mind, but for whatever reason, I was frozen in place. There was something. The sheer wrongness of it all, the defilement of the living. An abomination. A violation. Defilement of everything natural and sacred.

The central pillar, far more grandiose than its counterparts, was bedecked with matching runes, mirroring those in the tunnel. It seemed to throb in rhythm with each chant, and there were two hooded figures standing in ritual circles beneath it, each gripping a colossal, ornate axe. Only then did I notice two peculiar holes in the pillar—not perfectly round, but rather, two pointed impressions, just large enough for a head adorned with horns like mine to fit snugly into. Two of them? Hold on a tick.

That's when I heard a belated sob from behind me. A man, bound and weeping, unlike my unshackled self. The only similarity between us was the horns. He was being dragged closer. Only voice coming from him was a desperate wailing.

"NO, NO, PLEASE, NO! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM MY FAMILY! KILLED THEM ALL! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"

"PLEASE, LET ME GO!"

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? PLEASE, HAVE MERCY!"

His desperate pleas snapped me out of my stupor. But who wouldn't be frozen in such a moment? My mission had been simple: analyse the runes and sabotage them with Barn's help. I never intended to harm everyone—just the leaders of this wretched cult.

I've always wondered, why are some people so beastly? Was it nature's doing? Surely not. Perhaps it was the grip of power or the chill of fear that twisted them into these… monsters. As I glanced around, the chants of hundreds grew louder, more fervent.

What drove them to such madness? Could it be trauma, or a darkness they couldn't flee from? My tentative conclusion had always been that no one is born wicked. It's the circumstances, choices, and influences that shape us.

But perhaps I had been mistaken. Maybe evil didn't need a reason to exist.

I turned my gaze to the hooded figure before me, his wild grin widening as he awaited the horned man to be dragged closer. He was the one wielding that needle contraption. I decided there was no need to keep up the charade any longer.

Suddenly, I felt a scuttle across my wrist. Three sharp snaps of jaws echoed, though no one seemed to hear amidst the rising frenzy of the chants. "Kill?" His questions were always simple. "Soon," I whispered.

My tone turned as frigid as winter as I stood tall, eyes locked on the hooded man with barely contained loathing. "What made you this way?"

At first, I thought he'd not hear a thing. But then, quicker than a wink, his grinning gob vanished from where he stood and reappeared mere inches from my face. Astonishingly, I didn't flinch. The overwhelming loathing I felt, seemed to have far outstripped any fear of anyone in this room.

The first thing I noticed was his breath, sour and hot, puffing against my face like an Amber Salamander with halitosis. I tilted my head, waiting for him to say something, but he remained silent.

"I believe I posed a query, my fine sir," I prompted, my voice dripping with faux politeness.

He turned away, laughing loudly enough to make the people around us murmur. "Ah, but why should I bother responding to a filthy beast like you?"

I raised an eyebrow; that was rather rude. Given how they'd treated me from the start, it was clear beast-kin were not popular in this crowd. No surprise there.

I shook my head and smiled. "Listen, mate, I'm quite aware of where my noggin is destined." I pointed towards the ominous indents in the middle tower. "Call me barmy, but I've accepted my fate. You lot shelled out a pretty penny for me, so why not answer a dying beast's final question?"

I grinned, broad and white. He studied my face for a moment before shaking his head. "A cheeky little beastie like you, so spirited, so ready to depart this life. That blasé attitude could drive some men to madness. I wouldn't have minded scrubbing you down and bedding you if it weren't for the pressing matter at hand." He licked his lips in a way that made my stomach churn with sheer disgust.

"Ah, regarding your inquiry," he chortled, "Power, naturally! What else could it be? Trust me, once you've had a taste, there's no going back."

"I have a hunch that power wasn't the only motive behind slaying these beast kin," I drawled.

He burst into laughter once more. "Oh, absolutely not! Think of it as purging the land of its filth. Although, we did keep a few of the beast women alive—for certain... entertainment purposes."

A murderer, a rapist. The list of his crimes grew longer.

"And what purpose do I serve in all this?" I queried.

"Our Patron, the Styn' Lor Seat of Foresight, has a particular fondness for the life force of your kind. He thrives on the blood of the beastly, finds it invigorating, you see. Tonight, we shall receive His blessing in the grandest manner—two sacrifices, untouched by worldly magic."

He was increasingly justifying the horrors to come.

Just one last question. A small part of me hoped for a shred of redemption so that his death might be less cruel. If only two of us were to be sacrificed, then...

"What of those five, tied, gutted, and defiled? Were they part of the sacrifice as well?"

I knew. Deep down, I already knew the answer. The runes—Elbereth, Felim, Seraphim, and Glyndor—were decorative rather than practical, meant to make something glow. Blood on floor in this case.

They were disconnected from the ritual, serving no purpose. Please, let there be some hidden meaning I had overlooked.

Red eyes locked onto me as the hooded man opened his mouth, his eyes twinkling with a smile, "Don't you think they look rather splendid like that?"

I rubbed my eyes. What on earth was I even doing? The wailing man was now right beside me, his eyes widening as he looked at me. He might have said something, but I didn't catch it.

The swordsman who had been restraining me earlier seemed to have had enough of my defiance. He reached for my hair, or at least he tried to. His hand froze in mid-air. I stepped forward toward the ritual.

Five hooded men were conducting the ritual, standing in crimson circles.

"Barn, could you lift me up for all to see?" I asked.

Three affirmative clacks of his skeletal jaw were my answer. I felt an invisible force lift me, much like when Lotte helps me off her back or places me there when I want to gaze at the skies.

I floated upward, bound in this comfortable cocoon of force, until I reached the spot where the defiled serpent monster was hung. The chanting grew chaotic as some people murmured about this randomly flying fellow, while others tried to continue their incantations. I stared back and saw a massive black flame hurled toward my face. An invisible energy barrier appeared half a meter away from me, rippling as it quite literally devoured the black flame.

The foul-mouthed man was staring at me with wide eyes, hurling fireballs one after another. But it was utterly futile.

It all happened so swiftly, scarcely a soul noticed as air turning positively frosty. Just as he was poised to lob another fireball, he seized up, his hands suspended in mid-air. The fury in his eyes morphed to abject terror in a heartbeat.

Barn revealed his true form, a slithering presence in the air, right behind me. That familiar dread washed over me once more. Despite Barn being my ally, something primal within me recoiled, leaving me utterly helpless against this feeling. His very presence was suffocatingly cold.

The chanting ceased, the noise vanished; a stark silence enveloped the room. They stood immobilised, eyes fixated on Barn, who hovered ominously behind me. Yet, despite their desperate wishes, none could flee.

"Well, aside from the horned fellow lounging on the floor, these poor sods don't warrant a smidgeon of our sympathy," I declared, ensuring my voice carried to every corner of the room. I longed to lock eyes with Barn as I continued, "Give them the MOST GHASTLY demise conceivable!"

A thrill of glee seemed to ripple from Barn. Then came the unsettling symphony of teeth gnashing and bones snapping.

"Souls! Tasty! Devour! Permission?"

Why on earth was he asking for my permission? My facade of calm wavered as I fought the urge to glance his way. I loathed conversing with someone without looking them in the eye.

"Why do you need my permission for that?" I asked, perplexed.

"Contract. Forbidden. Need permission!"

I'd instructed him to inflict a horrid end upon them. Was soul-nibbling really that dreadful?

"Umm, yes, s-sure, go ahead," I stammered.

In hindsight, I really ought to have given it a bit more thought.