Chương 69: Chapter 67. Apeshit

"Shit. Shit. Shit." Adom muttered the curse with each pounding step as he retreated from the ridgeline, moving with all the stealth of someone trying very hard not to become a four-armed ape's dinner. Zuni clung to his shoulder, tiny claws digging in to avoid being dislodged by Adom's frantic pace. John had gone back into the inventory.

"Did it see me? I think it saw me. It definitely saw me." No, that wasn't quite right. The silverback had looked in his direction, but its posture had been one of generalized awareness, not focused hunting. If it had truly spotted him, it would have already been charging up the ridge. The fact that no twelve-foot monstrosity was currently breathing down his neck suggested he'd managed to duck away before being definitively spotted. Small victories.

Adom only slowed once they'd put a decent patch of heavy forest between themselves and the clearing. He leaned against a massive tree trunk, pulse hammering in his throat.

"Biggins," he wheezed, "is a damn liar." The warning had been clear enough—the silverback was dangerous. But there's "dangerous" in the academic sense, and then there's watching a creature rip another apex predator's jaw off with its bare hands. For a brief, possibly insane moment, Adom had considered attacking right then. The beast had just finished a difficult fight. It was wounded, bleeding. Logic suggested it would be weakened, vulnerable. Logic, in this case, could go straight to hell.

Even wounded, the silverback radiated power. Its movements remained fluid, controlled. The way it had snapped the wyrm's spine suggested it had plenty of strength to spare. If Adom had charged in, believing it weakened enough to take on, he would have ended up just like that wyrm—another trophy in a clearing already painted with blood. Even with his full magical arsenal, this would be a difficult fight. Without it, relying purely on his physical abilities? That was suicide with extra steps.

"Okay," Adom muttered, trying to settle his breathing.

"New plan." Zuni poked his head out from where he'd burrowed into Adom's collar during their retreat, whiskers twitching questioningly.

"We're going to need a better approach." Adom spotted a massive oak about fifty yards further into the forest, its branches thick and sturdy. Perfect for a temporary hideout. He began to climb. The bark was rough under his hands, providing decent grip despite his sweaty palms. He hauled himself up branch by branch until he found a solid perch about thirty feet up, hidden by a canopy of leaves but with enough gaps to keep an eye on his surroundings.

Zuni scampered up after him, settling on a nearby branch with a concerned chirp.

"Yeah, I know," Adom said, leaning back against the trunk.

"Not exactly going according to plan." His heart rate was finally returning to normal. He took a deep breath, then another, forcing his mind to focus. Panic wouldn't help him now. The silverback wasn't just an obstacle—it was the whole point of this excursion. The creature's unique physical makeup made it ideal for the transmutation ritual Adom needed to perform. But to do that, he needed to draw the transmutation circle, immobilize the beast inside it, and perform the ritual—all without getting torn in half first.

"So," he murmured, ticking off options on his fingers.

"Can't outfight it." One finger down.

"Can't outrun it." Another down.

"Can't surprise it." A third finger. If he tried to wear it down with ranged spells, it would likely just charge him before he could do significant damage. Traps were an option, but what kind of trap could possibly hold something that had just ripped apart a Graven Scale Wyrm?

"Think, think..." He pulled out Biggins' map, studying the dungeon layout. The silverback's territory seemed to center around that large clearing, but it likely patrolled a much wider area. If he could somehow lure it... No, luring implied he'd be the bait. Hard pass on that. What about poison? Doubtful. According to the notes, the silverback's metabolism processed toxins almost instantly. Adom was running out of fingers to count failed strategies on when he noticed something on the map.

A narrow canyon about a quarter-mile east of the silverback's clearing. The walls were steep, according to the topographical markings, and there was only one way in or out. If he could somehow get the beast in there, block the exit... But how to get it there in the first place? Zuni chirped again, head tilted as he watched Adom think.

"I'm working on it," Adom assured him. He closed his eyes, visualizing the problem from another angle. The silverback was territorial and aggressive. It had just killed a major predator encroaching on its space. What if... What if he wasn't the one who needed to lure it? A plan began forming in Adom's mind. Risky, but with a decent chance of success. His eyes snapped open.

"Bingo." Zuni stared.

"Don't worry," Adom said, reaching over to scratch behind the quillick's ears.

"This'll work. Probably." Zuni's expression suggested he found this less than reassuring.

Adom spread Biggins' map across his lap, the parchment crinkling as he smoothed it flat against his thigh. Zuni peered over his arm, occasionally trying to taste the paper.

"Okay, the silverback's territory is here," Adom muttered, tapping a circled area near the center of the map.

"What we need is something big enough to give it trouble, but not so big it'll kill the silverback before I can complete the ritual." His finger traced outward from the silverback's domain, following Biggins' neat annotations. The old dragon had marked most major monster territories with small symbols and brief notes.

"Spinejaws? Too small. Acid Hoppers? Too unpredictable. Blood Moss colony? Can't exactly herd plants..." Zuni chirped impatiently, as if to say hurry up already.

"I'm looking, I'm—" Adom stopped mid-sentence, his finger hovering over a spot about a mile east of their current position.

"Well, hello there." The area was marked with the a reptilian symbol, but drawn multiple times in a tight cluster. Beside it, Biggins had written: "Graven Scale breeding ground. AVOID." Breeding ground. Which meant multiple Graven Scales. Which meant...

"Exactly what we need," Adom said, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"If one gave the silverback trouble, what might three or four do?" Zuni did not look convinced.

"It's perfect," Adom continued, already folding the map.

"We provoke the Gravens, lead them to the silverback, let them soften each other up, then use John to teleport the silverback to our prepared circle." He slid down from the tree, Zuni scampering after him. The quillick seemed less enthusiastic about this plan, but Adom was already mentally calculating the fastest route to the Graven breeding ground. The trek through the deepening forest took nearly an hour. As they approached the coordinates, the vegetation changed.

The ground became marshy, the air thick with mist and the sweet-rot smell of decaying vegetation. Massive ferns unfurled in every direction, their fronds beaded with moisture.

"Should be just ahead," Adom whispered, crouching low. He crept forward, parting the last stand of ferns to reveal a wide, swampy clearing. At its center, a shallow pool of murky water steamed in the afternoon heat. And there they were. Three full-grown Graven Scales lounged at different points around the pool. Each was similar to the one the silverback had killed, though varying in size and coloration. The largest had an oily black hide crossed with deep red markings, while the other two were more greenish-brown.

[Identify] Graven Scale Matriarch (Deadly threat) The dominant female of a Graven Scale pack. Her scales contain concentrated mana crystals. Graven Scale Bull (Deadly threat) Male Graven Scale with territorial instincts. Slower but more heavily armored than females. Graven Scale Hunter (Deadly threat) Faster and more aggressive than other Gravens. Specializes in ambush tactics.

"Three deadly threats," Adom whispered.

"Perfect." The monsters seemed relaxed, almost lethargic as they basked in the afternoon heat. The Matriarch occasionally dipped her massive head into the pool to drink, while the Bull gnawed lazily on what looked like the remains of some unfortunate creature. The Hunter was the most active, patrolling the far edge of the clearing with deliberate steps. Adom studied them, formulating his approach.

But seeing the creatures in person, their massive jaws and powerful limbs, made his plan suddenly seem less brilliant than it had when he was safely perched in a tree. Would they actually follow him for nearly an hour's trek to the silverback's territory? These weren't mindless brutes—they were apex predators with territorial instincts. And speaking of the trek, could he realistically outrun them for that long? Sure, he could move faster than his leisurely walk here, but still.

The Hunter especially looked built for speed. And what if, after all that effort, they simply caught sight of the massive silverback and decided discretion was the better part of valor? Territorial or not, most creatures had a healthy sense of self-preservation. Maybe he had it backward. Perhaps bringing the silverback to them made more sense? The canyon with his carefully prepared transmutation circle was roughly equidistant between both territories.

He'd previously spent nearly an hour carving those runes into the stone walls, positioning markers on trees and arranging river rocks to complete the pattern. It would be a shame to waste all that preparation. But how to lure a silverback? The beast had just eaten, so hunger wouldn't motivate it. Territorial aggression seemed the most reliable trigger, but that meant Adom would need to find something the creature valued and threaten it.

Zuni suddenly let out a high-pitched squeak and grabbed Adom's ear with his tiny paws, tugging frantically.

"Hey! What are you—" Adom turned to look at the agitated quillick.

"What's wrong?" Zuni squeaked again, more insistently, then pointed his nose deliberately toward the far side of the pool. Adom followed the quillick's gaze, adjusting his position slightly to see past the Matriarch's massive bulk. And then he saw them. Nestled in a depression at the edge of the pool, partially hidden by reeds, were seven or eight smaller shapes. Much smaller. Baby Graven Scales, their scales still soft and iridescent, tumbled over each other in play.

One was trying to catch a dragonfly, snapping ineffectually as the insect darted just out of reach. Another was curled up asleep, its tiny tail twitching with dreams.

"Oh," Adom said, the spell dissipating from his fingertips.

"Those are..." Zuni nodded solemnly. Oh, for God's sake. Adom sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Perfect. Just perfect. The universe had a real funny way of complicating things. Here he was, all set to provoke deadly apex predators into a territorial cage match, only to discover that said deadly apex predators had adorable babies. Because of course they did. The baby Graven Scales were objectively, irritatingly cute.

With their oversized heads and stumpy limbs, they looked like someone had taken regular Graven Scales and squished them down to about twenty percent of their normal size while cranking the cuteness dial up to eleven. Their scales even had a pearlescent sheen that adult Gravens lost as they matured. If Adom brought the silverback here, he wouldn't be a clever mage executing a brilliant plan. He'd be the monster who led a territorial murder-ape into a nursery.

"So that's out," he muttered, watching as one of the babies tried to catch its own tail, spinning in a wobbly circle until it toppled over. The Matriarch glanced over, making a rumbling sound. The day was waning. Sunlight slanted through the trees at a slightly more steep angle now. Once darkness fell, the dungeon's entrance would seal until the next cycle – three, maybe four months from now. If Adom didn't complete his task today, all his preparations would be wasted.

The carefully carved transmutation circle, the materials he'd gathered, the efforts – all wasted. He couldn't just... find another monster. The dungeon was vast, sure, but not infinite. The silverback was ideal for the ritual precisely because it was unique – its physiology was a critical component around which he built the transmutation circle, and Biggins said it had the highest chance of success for genetic reasons. It was that or nothing. What to do, what to do indeed.

Adom glanced at Zuni, expecting the quillick to be watching him with those big eyes of his and the little smile. Instead, he found his companion curled into a ball on his shoulder, fast asleep. Tiny snores emanated from the blue bundle, each one ending with a slight whistle.

"Really? Now? You're sleeping now?" Adom whispered incredulously. The quillick was possibly the most random creature he'd ever encountered. When they'd first met in Professor Elowen's class, Adom had thought Zuni was simple – even slow – with that permanent vacant smile and oddly tilted head.

"Not a thought behind those eyes," he'd said then. How wrong he'd been. In just a day since, Zuni had proved himself to be remarkably perceptive. Like now – pointing out the baby Gravens before Adom had inadvertently sparked a catastrophic confrontation. The quillick seemed to have an almost uncanny ability to sense when situations were about to go sideways, even if his reactions remained as unpredictable as ever. Watching Zuni's tiny chest rise and fall, Adom was struck by how familiar the rhythm was.

He could almost feel it within himself – that peculiar cadence that was uniquely Zuni. The gentle pulse of the quillick's mana signature had become so recognizable that Adom could... Wait. Adom's eyes widened. He could feel Zuni's mana signature. Not just in some abstract, theoretical way, but actually feel it – a steady, slightly asymmetrical rhythm that somehow matched the quillick's peculiar personality. When had that happened?

"... creating a bridge that allows natural emotional exchange." Professor Elowen's words from that first day in Basic Bonding class echoed in his mind. The fundamental principle of druidic resonance. Adom had taken the class primarily to diversify his magical repertoire – one more tool in his arsenal. He'd practiced the exercises dutifully last night but hadn't given much thought to how deeply he might have internalized the techniques.

Yet somehow, without consciously trying, he'd formed a genuine empathic bond with Zuni. If he could do that with Zuni...

"The foundation of druidic magic is resonance. Every living thing produces a unique mana signature – a rhythm, if you will." His gaze drifted back to the Graven Scales. The Matriarch was now grooming one of the babies, her massive jaws – capable of crushing stone – delicately removing a bit of debris from the infant's scales. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"A true druid doesn't command nature; they request cooperation." A new plan began to take shape in Adom's mind. Not manipulation. Not deception. Communication. Adom took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart.

"Okay," he muttered to himself.

"Empathic projection. Mental focus, mana channeling, projection. Simple enough." Except it wasn't simple at all. He was about to attempt something Professor Elowen had demonstrated after decades of practice, on a creature that could bite him in half with minimal effort. If it went poorly, his remains would be decorating the clearing within seconds. But if he didn't try something, his preparations would be wasted.

The transmutation circle would sit unused, the ritual components would grow stale, and he'd be back to square one. Adom carefully shifted his position to get a better view of the Matriarch. She was still grooming one of the babies, her movements surprisingly gentle for a creature of her size and ferocity. Mothers were different. Adom knew this from experience. They operated on a different wavelength. Protection wasn't just an instinct; it was usually their fundamental nature.

They didn't fight because they wanted to, but because they had to. Because something precious depended on them. That was the emotional bridge he needed to find. Closing his eyes, Adom focused inward, trying to isolate and examine his own feelings. What emotion could possibly resonate with a mother Graven Scale? Not fear—that would only trigger her predatory instincts. Not aggression—that would be suicide. He needed something... authentic. Concern. Yes, that was it. Concern for the future. Concern for safety.

A genuine worry to feel when he considered what might happen if the silverback expanded its territory. Adom concentrated on that feeling, allowing it to fill his awareness. The silverback wasn't just his target; it was a threat to other creatures in the dungeon. He'd seen the clearing where it had killed the wyrm. If it decided to hunt here next... He felt the emotion crystallize, becoming distinct and focused. Now for the hard part.

Adom carefully extended his awareness outward, attempting to sense the Matriarch's mana signature. At first, there was nothing—just the general ambient mana of the dungeon. Then, slowly, he began to perceive something massive and complex, like a deep subterranean current. It was overwhelming. Where Zuni's mana signature was a simple, quirky rhythm, the Matriarch's was a symphony—layers upon layers of instinct, emotion, and intelligence intertwined in patterns too complex to fully comprehend.

Just as Professor Elowen had done, Adom focused his mana into his palm, trying to maintain his emotional focus while allowing the energy to remain fluid. A faint bluish glow began to emanate from his hand, flickering uncertainly as he struggled to maintain control.

"Don't try to understand it all," he reminded himself.

"Just find one thread." He focused on the thread that felt like protection—fierce, unwavering, absolute. The mana in his palm pulsed in response, the glow steadying slightly. Adom extended his hand, palm outward, not moving from his concealed position but directing his mana toward the Matriarch. The green energy extended outward in thin, wavering tendrils. Nothing happened. Maybe she was too far away? Or maybe his technique was flawed?

Or maybe Graven Scales simply didn't— The Matriarch's head snapped up, her nostrils flaring as she scanned the forest edge. Her eyes, yellow with vertical pupils, locked directly onto Adom's hiding spot.

"Oh shit," he whispered. If this didn't work, his escape plan consisted entirely of flying really, really fast and hoping it would be enough. I still hate flying though. The Matriarch rose to her full height, towering even above her mate and the Hunter. She issued a low, rumbling sound, and the other adults immediately moved to position themselves between her and the perceived threat. The babies, sensing the change in atmosphere, darted behind their mother.

Adom stayed absolutely still, fighting every instinct screaming at him to flee. Running now would trigger an immediate chase response. The Matriarch took a deliberate step forward. Then another.

"Steady," Adom whispered to himself, never breaking eye contact.

"Steady." She approached with cautious, measured strides, each footfall making the ground vibrate slightly. As she drew closer, the sheer scale of the creature became horrifyingly apparent. She wasn't just big—she was colossal. Her head alone was the size of a whole horse. Those jaws could snap him in half without effort. And the intelligence in those yellow eyes... this wasn't some mindless beast. There was calculation there. Assessment. Ten feet away, she stopped. Her nostrils flared again as she scented the air.

Adom maintained his focus, pouring more energy into the empathic projection. The tendrils of mana stretched further, wavering in the space between them.

"I mean no harm," he said, trying to infuse the mana with that intention and carry it.

"I share your concern." The Matriarch tilted her head slightly, an eerily familiar gesture that reminded him suddenly of Zuni. She made a low sound—something between a growl and a purr. The Bull and Hunter fanned out behind her, clearly ready to attack at the slightest signal. The babies remained hidden, though Adom caught glimpses of curious eyes peeping from behind their mother's massive bulk. Adom felt sweat beading on his forehead.

His mana reserves were draining quickly—maintaining the projection was far more taxing than he'd anticipated. He needed to establish a connection soon or retreat. Zuni chose that moment to wake up. The quillick stretched, yawned, and then froze as he realized what was happening. To Adom's surprise, instead of panicking, Zuni moved to his outstretched hand and placed his tiny paw against Adom's palm. Immediately, Adom felt a surge of energy. Zuni was amplifying his projection, stabilizing the wavering tendrils.

The blue glow intensified, becoming more structured and defined. Right. Quillicks were empathic creatures. The Matriarch's eyes widened slightly. She lowered her head until it was level with Adom's position, bringing those enormous jaws uncomfortably close. Her breath was hot against his face, smelling of raw meat and something earthy.

"Please work," Adom murmured desperately.

"Please understand." He pushed an image into the projection: the silverback ripping apart the wyrm. Then another: the silverback moving toward the breeding ground. A third: multiple silverbacks spreading throughout the territory. The Matriarch's eyes narrowed. A deep, rumbling growl emanated from her chest. For one terrible moment, Adom thought he'd made a fatal mistake. But then he felt it—a response. Not in words, but in emotional impressions. Anger. Territoriality. Fierce, unwavering protectiveness.

Yes, Adom thought, seizing on that connection. Protect your young. He sent more images: the Graven Scales confronting the silverback together. The silverback weakened. Adom performing his ritual. The silverback gone. The territory secure. The Matriarch pulled back slightly, her expression—if such creatures could be said to have expressions—thoughtful. She turned her head toward the Bull, making a series of complex sounds. The Bull responded with a short bark, then moved closer to the babies.

She turned back to Adom, and this time, when their eyes met, he felt the connection strengthen. Not friendship, not exactly, but a mutual understanding. A temporary alignment of interests. These weren't solitary predators like the silverback. They were social creatures with complex family structures. They understood cooperation, coordination, the strength that came from numbers. It made them capable of comprehending concepts like temporary alliance.

An impression formed in Adom's mind: the Graven Scales moving through the forest, Adom leading the way. The silverback, surrounded. Not killed—the ritual required it alive—but subdued.

"Yes," Adom nodded slowly.

"Together." The Matriarch made a final, decisive sound, then backed away, returning to her young. The Hunter and Bull remained wary, but their posture was less aggressive now. Adom lowered his hand, the green glow fading as he released the projection. His arm felt like lead, and a dull headache throbbed behind his eyes—evidence of how much mana he'd expended in the exchange. But it had worked. Somehow, against all odds, it had worked.

A notification appeared in Adom's awareness, blue text scrolling across his field of vision: [New Path Discovered] Through natural talent and successful experimentation, you have achieved true understanding of fundamental druidic principles. Path of the Druid (Novice) has been recognized. Current Paths: Runicologist (Expert) Alchemist (Novice) Druid (Novice) Adom allowed himself a small smile as the text faded.

"Apparently we've just discovered our hidden talent for talking to extremely dangerous creatures," he said to Zuni, who chirped in what sounded suspiciously like self-satisfaction. The quillick bumped his head against Adom's jaw and pointed toward the Graven Scales with an eager squeak.

"Yeah," Adom agreed, straightening up.

"Let's go hunt a silverback."

The silverback squatted in the clearing, its massive form hunched over the Graven Scale Wyrm's corpse. Four powerful arms worked in concert—two holding the carcass steady while the others tore into flesh. Muscle and sinew gave way under its fingers with wet, ripping sounds. It wasn't so much eating as it was dismantling. The creature's jaws snapped through bone, cracking open the wyrm's rib cage to access the organs within. Steam rose from the exposed viscera as they met the cooler air.

The silverback plunged its hand into the cavity, pulling out a dark, glistening liver the size of a shield. Black blood cascaded down its silvery fur as it took a massive bite, amber eyes half-closed in primal satisfaction. Each swallow was audible—a thick, wet gulp followed by the sound of teeth tearing off another hunk of meat. The ground beneath it had become a spreading pool of black fluid, soaking into the earth and staining the vegetation.

Flies were already gathering, their buzzing creating an organic soundtrack to the feast. The silverback paused mid-bite, head snapping up suddenly. Its nostrils flared wide, testing the air. Four amber eyes narrowed, scanning the tree line. A low growl rumbled from deep in its chest—a sound so bass-heavy it seemed to vibrate the very air. For long seconds, it remained perfectly still, only its eyes moving as they tracked across the vegetation. Nothing stirred. No birds called. The forest held its breath.

False alert. The silverback grunted and returned to its meal, though its movements were more guarded now. One eye remained fixed on the tree line as it tore into a section of the wyrm's haunch, teeth shearing through muscle as easily as butter. The attack came without warning. A blazing sword erupted from the foliage, spinning like a comet through the air. The weapon struck with terrible precision, burying itself to the hilt in the silverback's upper left eye.

The flaming blade sizzled as it sank into flesh and vitreous fluid. The silverback's scream was deafening. It lurched to its feet, the wyrm carcass forgotten as it clawed at the burning weapon. Blood and ocular fluid streamed down its face, hissing where they met the magical flames. Before it could dislodge the sword, the trees at the edge of the clearing exploded outward. John—the golem knight—burst through the vegetation like it wasn't there. Behind him came the Graven Scales, moving in perfect formation.

The Matriarch led, her massive form barreling forward. The Bull and the Hunter flanked her, while the Runner circled wide, clearly aiming to attack from behind. The silverback, half-blinded and roaring, charged to meet them. The Hunter reached it first, leaping with surprising agility. Its jaws snapped at the ape's leg, but the silverback pivoted with startling speed for something so massive. One enormous fist caught the Hunter mid-leap, sending it crashing into a tree with such force that the trunk splintered.

The Matriarch didn't slow. She crashed into the silverback like a battering ram, her head driving into its torso. The impact sounded like a boulder splitting. The silverback staggered back but didn't fall, its four arms grappling with the Matriarch's bulk. John moved in from the side, Fluid swirling visibly around his fists. The golem struck, targeting the joint of the silverback's upper right arm. Stone and metal met flesh with a sound like a sledgehammer hitting wet concrete. Bone cracked audibly.

The silverback howled, releasing the Matriarch with its injured arm. It swung wildly with its other three limbs, catching John with a glancing blow that would have obliterated anyone else. The golem absorbed the impact, armor cushioning the blow as he rolled with the punch. The Bull charged in next, timing his attack perfectly as the silverback turned to focus on John. His horned head caught the ape monster in the back of the knee, buckling the joint. The silverback dropped to one knee, momentarily vulnerable.

The Matriarch seized the opportunity, clamping her massive jaws onto the silverback's already injured upper right arm. With a savage twist of her head, she tore through muscle and tendon. The arm didn't come completely free, but it hung useless now, dangling by strands of sinew. Blood sprayed in an arc across the clearing as the silverback screamed in renewed fury. It surged upward with unexpected strength, throwing the Matriarch off and slamming a fist into the Bull's flank.

The impact lifted the Bull completely off the ground, sending him tumbling across the clearing. The Runner, who had been circling behind, saw its opening. It darted in with blinding speed, jaws aiming for the silverback's exposed neck. Too slow. The silverback spun, as if it had eyes in the back of its head. Its lower left arm shot out, catching the Runner mid-leap. Massive fingers closed around the Graven Scale's neck, crushing with terrifying force. Bone cracked.

The Runner's struggles grew frantic, then weakened. With a contemptuous twist, the silverback snapped the Runner's neck completely, the sound like a tree trunk splitting in a storm. It hurled the corpse at the returning Hunter, momentarily halting its advance. Following Adom's intent, John closed in again, Fluid now visibly crackling around his fists like blue lightning. He unleashed a barrage of strikes against the silverback's intact lower right arm, each blow precisely targeted at the elbow joint.

The silverback howled, trying to counter, but the golem moved with practiced efficiency, slipping under the wild swings. Metal fist met bone. Once. Twice. Thrice. Again. Again. On the eighth strike, something gave way with a wet crunch. The lower right arm now hung useless like its upper counterpart. The Matriarch and Bull coordinated their next attack, converging from opposite sides. The silverback, now down to half its arms, couldn't fend off both simultaneously.

The Bull locked his jaws on the ape's functional lower leg while the Matriarch targeted the remaining upper arm. Flesh tore. Bone splintered. Blood painted the clearing in abstract patterns. The silverback, realizing its predicament, unleashed a roar that seemed to shake the very ground. It lashed out with its sole remaining arm, catching the Bull across the face with enough force to send teeth flying. But the damage was done.

Its upper left arm came free in the Matriarch's jaws, torn completely from the socket in a spray of blood. Three limbs down, the silverback still fought with manic intensity. It slammed its head forward, the bony ridge of its forehead catching the Matriarch under the jaw. The impact sent her staggering backward, momentarily dazed. John moved in for the final strike. The golem's Fluid-enhanced strikes targeted the silverback's right leg, hammering the knee joint with mechanical precision.

The first blow cracked bone. The second shattered it. The third collapsed the joint entirely. The silverback crashed to the ground, a broken, bleeding titan still trying to rise on its single remaining limb. Blood pooled beneath it, steaming in the afternoon sun. The flaming sword still protruded from its ruined eye, the flames now dimmed to a sullen glow. The Bull and Hunter circled cautiously, while the Matriarch stood her ground, watching. John approached, no hint of mercy or hesitation.

The silverback's chest heaved with labored breaths. Four amber eyes—one ruined, three intact—glared with undimmed hatred and defiance. Even broken and dismembered. John stopped directly before it. The golem's hand reached out. He touched the crown of the silverback's head with almost gentle precision. There was a sound like air being sucked through a small opening. And then... Blip. One second, empty space. The next, twelve feet of enraged ape monster crashing to the ground in a spray of blood.

The impact shook the canyon walls, sending pebbles skittering across stone. Adom stood at the edge of the circle, unmoving. The runes carved into the canyon floor pulsed with a steady blue glow, illuminating the carnage from below. The circle was much larger than his previous attempt - nearly thirty feet in diameter, with concentric rings of symbols flowing outward from the center.

"Thanks, John," Adom said without taking his eyes off the silverback. Zuni scrambled from Adom's shoulder to John's, settling on the broad metal pauldron with a chirp as they made their way out of the circle. The silverback tried to rise, but its injuries were too severe. Three of its four arms hung useless - one completely severed, the others mangled beyond function. Its right leg collapsed under its weight, the joint shattered by John's precise attacks. Blood pooled beneath it, dark and oily in the magical light.

Still, it fought. Still, it refused to surrender. With its one working limb, it pulled itself toward Adom, leaving a glistening trail across the stone. Four amber eyes - one ruined by Adom's flaming sword - fixed on him with primal hatred. Adom watched its approach without satisfaction or arrogance. This wasn't personal. There was no room for such petty emotions in the dungeon. The strong survived; the weak became resources. It was as simple and as brutal as that.

Once John and Zuni were clear, Adom raised his hand. The silverback was still dragging itself forward, still trying to reach him, to kill him. Even maimed and dying, it remained dangerous.

"I'd explain what's about to happen," Adom said to the creature, "but I don't think you'd particularly care." He closed his fist. The circle ignited. What had been a gentle blue glow erupted into blazing white light. The runes transformed from simple carvings to channels of pure energy, connecting tree to tree, stone to stone. The air smelled like blood and ozone. A very curious mix. A barrier rose around them, sealing the circle completely. No escape for either of them now.

Unlike his hasty work with Helios, this transmutation circle was a masterpiece of planning and precision. Each symbol had been carefully measured, each line carved to exact specifications. Biggins had been surprisingly forthcoming with his knowledge - as if the old dragon had expected Adom to attempt exactly this. Then it began. Adom felt the familiar build of pressure in his chest. He braced himself. Chains of mana erupted from the ground, wrapping around the silverback.

It roared, trying to break free with its remaining arm, but the magical bindings were unyielding. More chains emerged, ensnaring Adom as well, though with considerably less force. The silverback's struggles intensified as it probably realized what was happening. Its roar became deafening within the confines of the barrier, echoing off the walls of energy. The flaming sword still embedded in its eye socket flickered and died as the circle's power overwhelmed it.

"The Law of Conservation channels our essence." Lines of light began to flow between them - from the silverback to Adom, back and forth, creating a circuit of energy. Fire and Water balanced each other. Earth and Air maintained form. Mana bound it all together. Pain exploded through Adom's body. [-5 Life Force] He gritted his teeth. Unlike the desperate improvisation with Helios, he'd had time to prepare himself mentally for this. He knew it would hurt. Knew it would drain him.

The silverback's roars became screams as its essence began to flow more rapidly into the circle. Its body glowed from within, as if something was being extracted from its very cells. [-7 Life Force] Adom's muscles seized, vision blurring at the edges. This was the critical phase - both creatures had to remain conscious for the transmutation to complete. The silverback was fading fast, its enormous vitality draining into the pattern.

"Keep fighting," Adom gasped, unsure if he was addressing the silverback or himself.

"Just a little longer." [-10 Life Force] His bones felt like they were being crushed, reformed, crushed again. The price of taking on aspects of another creature. His body was changing at the cellular level, adapting to new patterns, new strengths. The silverback gave one final, defiant roar. Its remaining functional arm went limp, crashing to the stone floor. Its four eyes - even the ruined one - blazed with golden light, energy pouring from them like liquid sunlight. That energy flowed into Adom.

[-15 Life Force] He could feel it happening now - the change washing through him in waves of fire and ice. Unlike with Helios, there was no disease to cure this time. Just raw power being channeled, contained, transformed. The runes pulsed faster, brighter, the entire circle becoming a storm of light. The canyon walls reflected it back, creating a dazzling, disorienting display that would have been visible for miles if anyone had been watching.

Adom forced himself to remain standing as agony tore through every nerve. This was the price. This was always the price. [-8 Life Force] The silverback's form began to dissolve, not into death but into pure essence. Its physical shape losing cohesion as the transmutation reached its final stages. Its hatred had faded, replaced by a strange acceptance - or perhaps just exhaustion. Adom's vision tunneled, darkness creeping in from all sides.

[Indomitable Will] He held on, channeling the flow, directing the transformation. The light reached its zenith, blinding even through closed eyelids. For one eternal moment, Adom felt like he was being torn apart and remade, molecule by molecule. The silverback's essence merged with his own. Then, abruptly, silence. The light vanished. Darkness fell over the canyon, broken only by the faint glow of embers where the runes had been.

The transmutation circle was burned into the stone, a permanent record of what had occurred here. Adom stood alone in the center, swaying slightly. Where the silverback had been, nothing remained - not even dust. Just empty space. He took a breath. Then another. His lungs felt... different. Stronger. His heart beat with a steady rhythm that seemed to resonate through his entire body. John approached, Zuni peering from his shoulder. The quillick's eyes were wide, reflecting the dying embers of the circle.

"It's done," Adom said, his voice rough.

"It worked." [New Skill Acquired!] [Silverback's Might (Very Rare) (Passive) - Level 1] Description: Your physical strength has been enhanced beyond human limitations. At Level 1, you are approximately ten times stronger than an adult human male. Strength increases with skill level. Progress achieved through physical exertion. Adom looked down at his hands. They appeared unchanged - still the hands of a thirteen-year-old boy. He bent down and placed his palm against the canyon floor. Then, slowly, he pushed.

The stone cracked. Not dramatically - no spider-web fissures or explosive breaking. Just a small, precise fracture where his hand had pressed too hard.

"Huh," He muttered.

"That was apeshit crazy." Adom winced. That was terrible. He wasn't sure why he said that. It sounded better in his head. Maybe Valiant was right, Adom thought as his eyes widened at the horrific realization.

"I talk like an edgelord." More wincing.