Chapter 316: Ladder of Progress, Scarlet Mark

Magic surged across the surface of his body, the mana circuits of the nameless armor pulsing as if they had grown directly from within Zig’s own flesh.

Compared to the artificial mana circuits controlled by mental force, this sensation of mastery through pure instinct gave Zig his first true experience of what it felt like to be whole.

Surprise, shock, reflection—his emotions were complex, but to sum it up in a single word: exhilarating.

"Hoo..."

He exhaled softly to steady his surging heart. The composure born of a long life prevented this moment of joy from stripping away his usual calm.

The space within the Seed of Eden was still far too cramped for Zig in his dragon form. With the area largely occupied by experimental equipment, little room remained; he was forced to curl his dragon body into a corner in a rather awkward posture.

As his dragon form gradually shrank, the nameless armor covering it shifted in tandem, retracting its proliferative matter back into its core. By the time Zig returned to his human form, the armor had reverted to its original bone-like state, hidden beneath his clothes.

"It seems that this ability to store parts of one's own body in an independent space is a trait shared by all high-level life forms."

Wang Yu watched as the nameless armor retracted the excess mass that had been completely disproportionate to its size, realizing that most powerful creatures appeared to possess such capabilities.

"Did this armor attempt to seize control of you? According to our previous tests, no matter how powerful the wearer, it would always try to usurp control of the body once it regained a certain level of strength. But from your perspective, Professor, it seems it hasn't."

Avia adjusted the perfect fractal lens over her right eye, observing the state of the armor beneath Zig’s clothes while asking for his impression of it.

"It hasn't. I can sense a simple consciousness within the armor now that it is connected to me. The feeling is one of satisfaction and submission. I suspect our previous assessment of its behavioral logic may have been flawed."

Zig stroked the armor beneath his robes, his expression thoughtful.

"I see. It appears the creator of this armor set the requirements for its user's strength quite high."

With a sudden realization, Avia integrated the results of her previous tests and understood that she had likely misunderstood the artifact.

The armor’s attempt to seize control was likely not out of a desire for a usable vessel, but because it deemed the wearer too incompetent to wield it properly—it wanted to do the fighting itself.

Now that it was being used by Zig, a dragon, the armor had fully acknowledged and submitted to him, clearly satisfied with its new master.

"My personal use and control of mana are now fundamentally different from before. I can now conduct a more comprehensive verification of the hypotheses I previously formed."

"I have an idea regarding the direction of meta-magic research. If I can fully organize the theory, it should significantly accelerate the experimental progress of the Truth Monitoring Society."

Zig shared with the group his preliminary findings on the relationship between Dragon-tongue magic and meta-magic, which he had verified using materials from the library. With his understanding of mana elevated to a new level, he intended to take his verification a step further.

"A very plausible hypothesis. But, Professor, do you really intend to spread Dragon-tongue magic more widely? For the dragon race, it is surely a precious and guarded secret."

Avia nodded in agreement after hearing his theory, yet she voiced her concern.

"Progress is a ladder built upon the steps of previous advancements. Without laying down the rungs, one can never reach higher ground. In my view, meta-magic is an exceptionally brilliant direction for the future of magic. As for Dragon-tongue magic, let it be the ladder for meta-magic."

Zig smiled as he spoke. He would never hoard knowledge; as long as it allowed them to go further, he would never be stingy with sharing.

Besides, did the surviving dragons even have the heart to care about such things anymore?

...

In the Undead Plane, a desolate and silent world illuminated only by the faint, dim light of a ring of fire, the undead engaged in endless, day-to-day strife.

Only when the soul of a new deceased being from the main plane fell into this realm did a flicker of "vitality" touch this lifeless world.

Yet, in a region of the plains outside the basin where the Old Bones resided, there was a rare "liveliness" seldom seen in the long history of the Undead Plane.

A spatial rift had torn open here. Figures in black robes continuously crawled out, but the moment a limb emerged, it was sliced into fragments by something lurking at the edge of the portal, falling to the ground as a heap of gruesome, rotting bone and gore.

Every ten seconds or so, another would emerge, only to be shredded. A mountain of corpse fragments had already piled up outside the gate, blood flowing in rivers, the stench of decay rising to the heavens.

Floating above the mound of mangled flesh were clusters of flickering, ethereal spirits. Those who died in the Undead Plane were quickly eroded by its unique power; if the body remained intact, they might become skeletons or zombies, but if reduced to a pile of slag like this, they could only become the weakest of ghosts.

If the number of these newly dead spirits were sufficient and the pile of flesh large enough, it might have been possible for a Blood-Creep to be born from the mass through a qualitative change.

But that was no longer possible; the rare, fresh flesh of the Undead Plane had attracted an eternally ravenous Abomination.

"Gurgle, crunch, crunch."

The Abomination plunged its butcher’s knife into the mound of flesh piled before the portal, scooping up a massive portion of blood-soaked, rotting meat and shoving it into its filthy, hideous maw. It felt a satisfaction it had never known before.

Its iron hook struck out, successfully piercing the head of a newly formed ghost, dragging it toward the Abomination to be swallowed, nourishing the creature’s soul-fire.

Like a diner at a buffet, the hulking Abomination squatted beside the portal, devouring the endless stream of fresh meat and spirits. As it reveled in the feast, its size grew, and its strength surged.

The one hundred and seventy-eighth, the one hundred and seventy-ninth—the number of people who had emerged from the portal and been instantly slaughtered had long since passed three digits. No one knew why these beings continued to throw their lives away.

Until the one hundred and eightieth. When he stepped out of the portal, he was not immediately sliced into pieces. He looked at his unharmed body in disbelief and immediately raised his hands, attempting to say something.

"Squelch!"

Before he could utter a word, a butcher’s knife descended from above, cleaving the "lucky one" in two from head to toe. The giant Abomination, now several times the size of a normal one, was still waiting for fresh food.

It pinched the half-corpse of the black-robed figure and tossed it into its mouth. The firm texture, different from the meat-sludge, made the Abomination let out a satisfied, guttural cry. The scattered scales visible on the skin of the remaining half of the body already revealed the victim's identity: a member of the Dragon Cult.

The Abomination reached out for the rest of the body, but at that moment, another figure stepped out of the portal. The instant they exited, they noticed the giant Abomination and frowned, raising a finger.

Dark energy gathered at their fingertip and shot toward the head of the terrified Abomination, piercing its soul-fire.

The soul-fire, struck by the black energy, completely collapsed and dissipated. The Abomination’s massive body tipped backward, crashing to the ground with a thunderous thud, kicking up a spray of blood and dust.

"That silver dragon is still that silver dragon. It disguises the traces of its movements well, even masking the remaining planar passage as spatial turbulence. Anyone who follows the trail will be sliced to ribbons by the spatial blades it left behind."

"This simple camouflage alone has killed a hundred cultists. Generally, I would have given up upon encountering what appeared to be spatial turbulence, but unfortunately, the artifact has already pointed to the location of the remaining dragons. No matter how you hide, it is meaningless."

Only a higher-level undead could make an Abomination show fear. The figure emerging from the portal was a pale-faced female lich. The spell she used to kill the Abomination was the lich’s signature ability: Finger of Death.

As a vice-bishop level figure of the Dragon Cult on the continent, Varma was a Dracolich. She possessed not only the astonishing spellcasting ability of a lich but also formidable physical strength, and could transform into a powerful bone dragon.

Taking a statue-like object from the void, Varma placed it in her palm.

Artifact: Blood Mark. It appeared to be a sculpture of a headless hunter drawing a bow, aiming at the distant sky. Beside him lay a heap of mud-like matter, its nature indistinguishable.

Varma opened her pocket dimension, withdrew a still-beating heart, and crushed it over the head of the artifact, letting the scorching blood soak the sculpture.

The artifact absorbed the blood, and the arrow on the hunter’s bow turned from gray to red, emitting a faint glow. The mud-like matter beside him gradually clarified, manifesting the shapes of dragons.

Suddenly, the hunter’s posture shifted. The arrow released from his bow transformed into a red ribbon of light in Varma’s eyes, pointing toward a distant location.

"Found you. Since 'He' flows through the blood of all dragon-kind, how could you ever truly hide yourself?"

A stiff, cold smile curled her lips. The Dracolich Varma whispered to herself, her form dissolving into a cloud of pitch-black smoke as she flew in the direction indicated by the Artifact: Blood Mark.