The morning after the serpent's fall, Dane awoke with his back aching where his wings had been attached. Snow crusted the edges of his makeshift shelter, the mountainside silent except for the distant howl of wind. Zeph was already in the air, flitting between gusts like a shadow carved from amber sunlight. They had one moment of respect and hadn't spoken since the fight.

  Dane thought that the birdman needed some time to process, so he rolled over and tried to steal a few more seconds of precious sleep. His stats and rank only required him to get a minimum of four hours of sleep, but that didn't mean he couldn't get more.

  When he woke up the second time, he got up and tore down the camp. Anything that wanted to track them would definitely know they had been there, but he still wanted to throw off any unskilled trackers. He buried the fire pit under the snow. He then went and scattered the logs and conifer branches that built his hut. It was easier to tell how monsters would perceive the area with beast mode activated. He made sure that all of his senses were confused.

  He went to the corpse of the Frost snake. Taking out his fang of the Megaladon, Dane sliced a small piece of it. He wasn't above eating frozen snacks, and he knew that Inuits from his old world would cut up frozen fish as a delicacy. When he took the bite, he instantly regretted it. The Frost snake froze his esophagus the whole way down, and he lost twenty HP. He decided that he would have to break his iron gut skill out and eat some rocks.

  It wasn't the most nutritious meal, but Dane feasted on fistfuls of dirt. After all, dirt was just rocks that were broken down. His skill broke it down further and processed it with ease; the hunger subsided, and he let out a breath of relief.

  Dane received questioning looks from Zeph, who was holding some tiny, squirrel-like creatures from his recent hunt. With a brown smile, he said, "Good morning, are you ready to fly?"

  Zeph picked back up where they left off the previous day for the flying lesson, but his teaching style was lacking his usual mockery. Each dive, bank, and stall was precise, measured, and a rhythm Dane struggled to match. He flapped, twisted, and soared through the air currents, black-glass wings slicing the frost-bitten wind, feeling it finally respond. Not perfectly, but he was catching the wind.

  By midday, the mountain loomed above them, jagged spires piercing a cloud-choked sky. The path twisted through sheer rock faces, where carved symbols glimmered faintly in the Mana currents. At the base of a jagged cliff, they met a dragonkin wearing a priest's robe. Four more priests stepped out of the shadows, and they circled Dane and Zeph like predators sniffing a new meal.

  "You seek the Golden One?" one asked, voice flat, eyes glittering like molten brass.

  "If you mean the sacred object for the rite, then yes, we seek the golden one," Dane said. His own voice sounded small in the shadow of the spires.

  "You shall face three trials. Only then will the peak grant you entry." The priests said in creepy unison.

  'Why is it always three trials? One of these days, the world will learn that a fetch quest is trouble enough.' Dane thought

  The first trial was combat. Dane refused to use his beast form, and he struggled in the one-on-one. He still needed to get back his level after killing the beast within. The men were at peak C rank, but they had shaky foundations.

  They were most likely not combatants, so even though there was a level disparity, he was able to hold his own. It was nothing to write home about, but he got in there efficiently and exploited weaknesses where he saw them. It was simple, but that didn't mean it was easy. By the end, his chest burned, and he was gasping for air.

  After Dane finished, the Dragonkin warriors, nimble and brutal, attacked Zeph in ritual precision. He wondered why they attacked him four at a time, but figured that the bird must have talked a big game beforehand.

  Zeph moved like a living gale, claws raking and wings slicing wind. Though the Dragonkin had wings, they must have been for show because Zeph swooped down like an owl picking up a mouse. He made quick work of the trial, and unlike Dane, he was not breathing heavy afterward. The Bird gave him a smug grin and followed the priest to the next trial.

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  A golden altar glowed with the hum of condensed Mana, the cultists chanting the Golden One's supremacy. They demanded submission, kneeling, recitation, and homage. Zeph laughed quietly; Dane refused to bow. Both failed, and the cult dismissed their failure as expected. The final trial awaited.

  Before them stood a colossal door, carved into the mountain itself, and a dragon statue, gilded and enormous, that spanned the stone. Zeph stood before the door and made a show of touching the statue. He heard a click, and then nothing happened.

  "It must be broken," Zeph said to Dane, slightly disappointed.

  Dane approached the statue, and the eyes of the Dragon lit up in a golden glow, the cavern trembling with the power that pulsed from within. The door slid open for Dane alone, leaving Zeph to step back, concealing frustration behind a forced grin.

  The hall beyond twisted downward, a narrow tunnel lined with veins of living Mana. Dane's chest tightened; the same cold, oppressive weight of dungeons he had endured flashed in his mind, memories clawing at the edges of his concentration. But the path led to the heart of the cavern. There, coiled in light and shadow, rested the Golden Dragon. Its scales shimmered molten yellow, with two eyes like twin suns that tracked his every movement.

  "You have come to disturb my slumber. Leave or die," the voice rumbled, shaking the stone as if the mountain itself had spoken.

  Dane did not move; instead, he tried to talk to the Monster. "We have come for the sacred object for the rite." He said, hearing his voice translate into the Beast tongue.

  The Dragon struck first, tail lashing with the force of a battering ram. Dane slammed into the wall, jagged stone biting into his side. He transformed into his Beastform, but the pain was so excruciating that he flickered in and out of it, his wings shaking under the shock, but he forced his balance, rising to face the challenge. It was hard to breathe; he felt his ribs crack. Coughing up blood didn't mean as much as it used to, but it was still a bad sign.

  Dane barely had time to wrap his wings around himself when the dragon breathed fire. Orange-gold flames roared, curling through the cavern like living streams. Dane's scales glimmered red-hot, resisting most of the heat, but the scorched air burned his chest. He felt his blood start to boil, and he looked as his open wounds caterized under the heat. It was worse than his time in the hole as a slave. He refused to move.

  "You are resilient out of respect for one who has survived two of my attacks; I will let you leave alive. Turn around and go." The Dragon said, and the ground underneath Dane shook with each syllable.

  "I'm not leaving until I get what I came for," Dane said, flinching with his ribs cracked and small scorched holes in his black wings.

  The Dragon smiled a wide, threatening grin, like a cat playing with its food. Or a hunter praying for a good hunt. The Dragon snapped at Dane, its teeth slobbering mere inches from his face. Dane's claws dug into the stone, muscles straining, chest heaving. He would not move. The dragon froze, then chuckled, a sound like thunder rolling over stone.

  "Draka has not sent one with a dragonheart in ages," it rumbled. "You have refused escape three times. You have earned the scale."

  A massive, gilded scale detached from the dragon's chest and hovered before Dane, its glow pulsating with condensed Mana.

  "One last thing, mortal, would you accept another boon? I am 2000 years old, and I sense that my time is near. I have no successors left in the world and I am the last true Dragon on this planet. I want my legacy to live on, but none pass my test of will. Will you accept Dragon Essence? I must warn you that many who take this gift do not live."

  Dane thought long and hard; he definitely wanted more power, but had to reconsider, especially if it came with a death sentence. His Danger sense was quiet thought. It may be because of his unlocked beast form, but he was relying on instinct more and more.

  "I will accept your legacy," Dane said

  Then, the Dragon extended a claw to Dane's forehead, searing energy flowing in. Pain ripped through him, his beast form flickering wildly as fire tore from his chest.

  When it ended, Dane's wings stretched, black-glass now etched with golden draconic veins. His horns lengthened, curling like dragon ridges. The tough leather Demon skin turned into obsidian scales, hardening. Dane could almost mistake his beast form for a glorified armor now.

  His eyes started to burn; he closed them, but the heat coming out was unbearable. The pain from his horns and skin changing was nothing compared to this. The Chronite Opal that marked his race deepened, and over it bloomed a red sclera with a black cat's eye iris. The fire inside him pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, and the dragon spoke softly:

  "Control it. Channel it. You are complete."

  Dane exhaled, the heat of his own fire washing over him, wings flexing, claws digging into stone. Since Draka had helped him unlock his beast form, he had felt divided like two halves that were fighting for dominance. The Dragon Essence bridged the gap. He looked into the right corner, where his health bar was, and saw a new pool of DE. Just an abbreviation of Dragon Essence, he noticed that it was depleting rapidly.

  "I have given you the power of the Primordial Dragons; it regenerates slowly in those who are not of Dragonblood, but it is more potent than any mana you will ever mold. What you use it to create will be empowered 10-fold." Dane looked in awe at the Dragon's words, but then he nodded slightly.

  "Thank you for the power." Dane was at a loss for words, but his mother had always taught him to be polite when accepting a gift.

  "No, thank you. Little Chronite, you must go. I sense an urgency around your temporal flow," The Dragon said as he spun around a pile of treasure and lay down like a giant dog about to take a nap.

  Dane picked up the scale and exited the cave. Finding Zeph hiding behind a rock.

  "Come, great war poet, we have to find another sacred object," Dane said while strolling past the Beastman.

  "You're one to talk. I can smell your pants from here, oh brave dragonheart." He said, jogging to keep up with Dane.