Bloodline Gift (4)

Bloodline Gift (4) "Dolo."

Keosius spoke the next name.

As Ember Nest's military leader and the designer of Stone Fortress's defensive structures—its ditches, palisades, gates, guard towers, pit traps, and more—Dolo truly needed greater strength as assurance.

The Hobgoblin Chieftain let out a sigh of relief.

At least this proved that his status within Ember Nest had not fallen too far—after all, these creatures loved power even more fervently than they loved war.

Dolo climbed onto the boulder and waited on one knee.

Blood flowed into his mouth.

Scorching heat.

That was the Hobgoblin's only sensation.

The blood entered his throat like molten lava, churning through his body and burning every inch of him. At last, he understood Lang Pu's pain.

Yet he still trembled all over as he maintained his one-knee kneel, gritting his teeth so hard they were nearly shattered.

"I won't die here."

"I'll climb higher—at least higher than that stupid Ogre."

Those were the Hobgoblin's only thoughts at that moment.

The Hobgoblin's skin had originally been crimson. Now, heated by the scorching elemental energy, it became translucent and faintly glowed red.

His body pulsed rhythmically.

Every heartbeat and every breath pumped dragon blood throughout his body. His body had become so translucent that his throbbing veins could even be seen through it.

"Perhaps the effect is more pronounced on creatures without dragon vein bloodlines."

Keosius calmly watched the Hobgoblin's transformation and silently drew his conclusion.

"Ah—"

At last, the Hobgoblin could no longer endure the burning throughout his body and cried out.

His body began to expand rapidly, and scale-like protrusions emerged beneath his skin.

As his roars grew more heart-wrenching, the Hobgoblin grew at a visible rate.

His height shot up from around 1.8 meters to 2.5 meters. Scarlet scales forcibly burst through his fragile skin, emerging into the air amid White Smoke.

"Huff, huff."

He parted his lips slightly and exhaled puffs of white vapor.

His already long, pointed yellow teeth had become as sharp as dragon fangs.

Scales had even spread across his face. Ridges appeared along his ears and merged into the scales on his cheeks, while two small, slightly raised horns grew from his brow.

A Dragon Vein Hobgoblin had been born.

His body had undergone earth-shaking changes. His strength had surged, and he was now even comparable in size to an ordinary Ogre.

However, as a creature more suited to legion warfare, he did not awaken Fire Breath. He merely gained the ability to cast the cantrip Fire Bolt, along with a heavy suit of scales that protected him and granted him greater resistance to heat.

Hobgoblins had originally possessed lifespans similar to humans, and because of their love of war, often failed to live out their natural lives. Now, he had become a "long-lived species" with a lifespan of roughly three hundred years—though that was still fleeting in the eyes of dragons.

Dragon Vein Hobgoblin Chieftain

Challenge Rating: 7 (2900 XP)

"Thank you for your generous gift."

"I can hardly wait—to taste my enemies' blood on the battlefield."

Dolo panted heavily.

His already red face flushed bright with excitement.

The Hobgoblin Chieftain felt unprecedented power filling his body. As a creature born with a love for war, he had the urge to unleash every bit of that power upon the battlefield.

"Not bad."

Keosius said.

Without the support of magic, Dolo's improvements were already quite remarkable.

"Smaug."

Keosius spoke the next name.

The largest Wyvern in the group became wildly excited upon hearing the call.

Thick saliva dripped from its jaws as it eagerly leaped onto the boulder. It braced itself against the stone with the wing bones of its forelimbs, while its thick tail, tipped with a highly venomous barb, swayed rhythmically.

This was naturally not a name native to this world, merely one of Keosius's small indulgences.

After making an example of one to warn the others, he had casually appointed the largest of the remaining Wyverns as the new leader of the flock.

And as dim-witted creatures, Wyverns often had no names at all.

Seeing the Wyvern plant its forelimbs on the ground, Keosius recalled the image of the famed Smaug from a film in his previous life. On a whim, he gave it that name.

The Wyvern called Smaug shrieked excitedly, saliva dripping from its mouth onto the stone.

These beasts possessed the bloodlines of dragons and griffins, and they craved the bloodline of True Dragons.

The blood entered its mouth.

The Wyvern supported itself on its forewings and let out low growls.

Though dragon blood already flowed through its body, that bloodline had been diluted over countless generations and had long since become exceedingly thin. It could not compare to the Blood of Grace of a Red Dragon.

Thus, when blood brimming with violent elemental energy surged into its body, the beast was still wracked by agony.

As the blood churned within it, the Wyvern rolled directly across the boulder.

It let out one shrill, miserable screech after another.

The harsh, grating noise was like shards of metal scraping against one another, tormenting even the watching monsters.

The Wyvern's body also expanded visibly.

It grew from over five meters long to over six, then over seven, before its expansion finally began to slow.

Hard scarlet scales grew over its wrinkled, slime-coated skin. Its fleshy protrusions gradually became horny spikes, and the mouth that had once been able to spray only foul-smelling mucus could now breathe scorching fire.

The Wyvern had clearly moved a step closer to becoming a True Dragon.

Yet it still retained its gaunt form and forelimbs-on-the-ground posture.

Ancestor Returning Wyvern

Challenge Rating: 8 (3900 XP)

"Not bad. At least it won't be beaten into a sorry state by the North Wind Eagle Guard anymore."

Keosius commented expressionlessly.

The Wyvern breathed a stream of fire into the sky before leaping down from the boulder. It proudly raised its head at its companions. It truly deserved to be called a beast.

By now, little dragon blood remained in the shallow pit.

Only a thin layer was left.

The blood flowed slowly.

It gave off an enticing bloody scent.

By the previous standard, it should still be enough for one more gift.

At that moment, the thousands of eyes in the valley were fixed on the remaining blood. They panted heavily, their gazes feverish, their eyes nearly burning with flame.

After witnessing several transformations, they now regarded the blood as nothing less than a symbol of power.

The transformation might be painful, but how could such pain compare to immense strength?

And now, the unquestioned highest-ranking figures of Ember Nest had already received their share.

Did they also have a chance to get a taste?

The valley remained silent, but the breathing grew heavier, and the pounding heartbeats more distinct, like the beat of heavy drums.

Beads of sweat rolled down the Bugbears' foreheads, flowing through their fur to the corners of their eyes. Yet they did not blink, staring fixedly at that pool of blood.

The Lizardmen stood motionless in shadowy corners, secretly observing it, staring at the blood like lifeless objects.

The Wyverns stretched out their necks and opened their mouths slightly, saliva running down both sides. Their ferocious heads were filled with longing.

Who would be the lucky one? They all waited in anticipation.