Chapter 41: Bloodline Gift (Part 4)
“Dolo.”
Cassius called the name.
As the military chief of Ember and the designer of defeructures like the trenches, fences, gates, and guard towers within Rock Fortress, Dolo indeed needed a strength boost for prote.
Dolo let out a sigh of relief.
At least this proved that his position in Ember hadn’t dimioo much—after all, his love for power often outstripped even his fervor for war.
Dolo climbed onto the boulder, kneeling on one knee as he awaited his turn.
Blood flowed into his mouth.
Intense heat.
This was Dolo’s only sensation.
The blood entered his throat like scalding va, roiling and scorg every inch of his body, and he finally uood Langpuo’s agony.
Yet, trembling all over, he maintained his kneeling pritting his teeth so hard he nearly shattered them.
“I won’t die here.”
“I’ll climb higher—higher than that dumb ogre, at least.”
This was the sole thought in Dolo’s mind.
His skin, inally crimson, now glowed with a translut red as the scorg elemental energy seeped through, faintly emitting a reddish glow.
His body pulsed rhythmically.
Each heartbeat, each breath pumped the dragon’s blood throughout his form; through his now slightly translut skin, one could even see his pulsing veins.
“It might have a stronger effe non-blooded creatures.”
Cassius observed Dolo’s transformation calmly, making a mental note.
“Ah——”
Finally, uo ehe burni, Dolo let out a scream.
His body began to swell, with scale-like protrusions emergih his skin.
As his screams grew muttural, Dolo’s form expanded rapidly before their eyes.
His height shot from about 1.8 meters to 2.5 meters, with crimson scales ripping through his fragile skiing white steam as they were exposed to the air.
“Huff, huff…”
He parted his mouth slightly, exhaling wisps of white smoke.
His once long, yellow teeth now gleamed as sharp as dragon’s fangs.
The scales spread across his face, creating ridges around his ears that fused into the scales on his cheeks, while two small protruding hrew from his forehead.
A dragon-blooded hobgoblin had been born.
His body had undergone a dramatic transformation, with a substantial increase in strength, his physique now on par with an ordinary ogre.
However, as a creature more ined to legion warfare, he had not gained fire breath. Instead, he could now cast the trip “Fire Bolt” and had developed a dense coat of scales for added prote a resistance.
inally, Dolo’s lifespan was simir to a human’s, with many hobgoblins never living long enough to die of natural causes due to their love of warfare. Now, however, he had bee a “long-lived species,” with aended lifespan of about three hundred years—though this was still brief by dragon standards.
[Dragon-Blooded Hobgoblin ander]
Challeing: 7 (2900 xp)
“Thank you for yenerous blessing.”
“I ’t wait to taste the blood of enemies otlefield.”
Dolo panted heavily.
His already red face flushed with excitement.
Dolo could feel an unpreted surge of power within him, and as a creature with an innate love of war, he had a powerful urge to unleash this energy otlefield.
“Not bad.”
Cassius remarked.
With no spells to aid him, Dolo’s growth was already remarkable.
“Smawg.”
Cassius annouhe name.
The rgest wyvern among them heard the call and was immediately thrilled.
Drooling with anticipation, it hopped onto the boulder, propping itself up with its wing bones and rhythmically swaying its barbed, venomous tail.
This name was, of course, not native to this world, but rather a small indulgence of Cassius’ dark humor.
After “killing the chi to scare the monkeys,” he had appoihe rgest remaining wyvern to take charge as the new leader of the pack.
As creatures of low intelligence, wyverns typically had no names.
Seeing this wyvern brag itself on its front limbs reminded him of the iic Smaug from movies in his previous life, and so he had whimsically given it that name.
The wyvern called “Smawg” cawed excitedly, with saliva dripping onto the stone.
These creatures, with a blend on and griffin blood, eagerly coveted the true dragon’s bloodline.
The blood merged into its mouth.
Leaning on its wings, the wyvered low growls.
Although it already had dragon blood, that bloodline had been diluted over tless geions, leaving it a pale remnant pared to the true dragon’s gift of blood.
Thus, as the raging elemental energy flooded its body, the beast was still wracked with pain.
As the blood ed within, the wyvern rolled over oone.
It let out a series of shrill, pierg cries.
The sound was jarring, like the screeetal fragments grinding together, making the watg creatures wince.
The wyvern’s body swelled visibly.
Growing from over five meters to over six, it tinued expanding until it reached just over seveers before stopping.
Its mucus-covered, wrinkled skin sprouted hard, crimson scales, and the fleshy protrusions morphed into bony spikes, while its maw, whily emitted foul sludge, could now spew scorg fire.
The wyvern now bore a closer resembo a true dragon.
Yet, it still retais slim, front-limbed stance.
[Atavistic Wyvern]
Challeing: 8 (3900 xp)
“Good; at least it won’t get easily beaten by the North Wind Eagles anymore.”
Cassius ented, expressionless.
The wyvern spat fmes into the sky before hopping down from the boulder, proudly lifting its head among its fellows. Fitting for a creature known as a beast.
By now, there was little dragon blood left in the shallow pit.
Only a thin yer remained.
The blood moved gently.
Its st was entigly pu.
Acc to the previous standard, there was just enough for one more blessing.
At this moment, a thousand pairs of eyes in the valley were locked on that remaining blood, each creature breathing heavily, their gazes inteh anticipation, almost afme.
Having witnessed several transformations, this blood had bee an undisputed symbol of power.
Though the transformation ainful, what was that pared to the allure of immense power?
Now, with Ember ’s highest-ranked members already blessed…
Could they too have a ce at the spoils?
Silence tio bhe valley, yet the breathing grew heavier, and the poundibeats became more pronounced, like a series of deep drumbeats.
Beads of sweat trickled down the foreheads of the bear goblins, dripping onto their fur and pooling at the ers of their eyes, yet none dared blink, their gazes locked onto that pool of blood.
In a darkened er, the lizardfolk stood motionless, watg from afar, silently , their eyes fixed on the blood as if dead.
The wyverns stretched their necks, slightly parting their mouths, saliva oozing from either side, with a fierce longing glistening in their menag eyes.
Who would be the lucky one?
They all waited in eager anticipation.
