The sun hung low across Vallenport, its golden rays casting long shadows across Tavalor's garden. Little Bee darted between blooming flowers, its dainty form absorbing the essence. Little Shadow chased along, changing form at all times. Occasionally even changing form to match Little Bee as well.

  It was a familiar figure—a female elf in the armour of an Elven captain. Her posture was rigid with nervous energy, fingers fidgeting at her sides.

  Captain Lyrawyn, Tavalor realised with mild surprise. What does she want?

  'Senior—I mean, Elder Tavalor,' she said bashfully, clearly uncertain of the proper form of address for someone of his status.

  Tavalor noted that despite her [C-Class] cultivation, which would have allowed her to easily fly over his wall as she had done during their last encounter, she had chosen to use the doorbell. A show of respect.

  Luneth: 'I'll leave you to it,' she said quietly, slipping away to another part of the manor.

  Did she discover something? Tavalor wondered silently. He felt like he had seen her again, he thought about tit, trying to recall where he had seen her before. Then his memory clicked into place—she was the one who had warned him to flee during that chaotic battle.

  Tavalor turned his attention back to Captain Lyrawyn, subtly activating [Intimidation] at a low level—just enough to make any potential observers look away from this meeting.

  'Didn't you go to fight in the southern continent?' he asked her.

  Captain Lyrawyn's eyes widened slightly in surprise. 'Elder, you're joking. With my strength, I was merely cannon fodder.'

  'Why are you here?'

  She straightened her back, looking directly into his eyes despite the subtle pressure of his [Intimidation]. 'Thank you for saving the southern border.'

  So she does know, Tavalor thought, though he wasn't particularly surprised.

  'How did you know?' he asked, his voice betraying no emotion.

  'I was watching when you killed the Great Whale,' she admitted. 'I caught a glimpse of you.'

  So she was the voice I heard telling me to run the other way, Tavalor realised. She saw me. No wonder she's suspicious.

  'I promise I won't tell anyone,' Captain Lyrawyn added quickly.

  'That's fine,' Tavalor replied, unperturbed. He couldn't be bothered to waste time with pleasantries. 'So why are you here?'

  Captain Lyrawyn took a deep breath, gathering her courage. 'I would like to be your disciple.'

  The request caught Tavalor completely off guard.

  He sighed internally. Yet, he supposed it was inevitable. If she believed he could kill a Great Whale, she would know he was [S-Class]. And for someone struggling at [C-Class], the opportunity to learn from an [S-Class] cultivator was priceless.

  'Don't you already have a master?' he asked, recalling the elder female elf who had pulled her away from the battlefield during their last encounter.

  'My master said that I can have as many masters as necessary,' she replied with utmost seriousness. 'I must show them all respect.'

  She hesitated, then continued, her voice growing softer. 'I feel weak. During the southern campaign, I saw so many die. I couldn't do anything to help. If I were stronger—'

  'What does that have to do with me?' Tavalor thought, cutting her off before she could continue her emotional plea.

  'I don't accept disciples,' he said firmly. 'You can leave.'

  The shock on Captain Lyrawyn's face was evident, but Tavalor wasn't finished.

  'Your master is right, you can have many masters, but your strength ultimately depends only on you. You are the only person you can truly rely on.'

  He leaned forward slightly, his ruby eyes fixed on hers. 'Don't think that acquiring a collection of powerful mentors is the secret to success. You will still have to do the work yourself.'

  To his surprise, he saw understanding dawn in her eyes. She was actually listening, actually thinking about his words rather than simply feeling rejected.

  Encouraged, he continued: 'Every person you meet has something to teach you,' His voice grew firmer. 'You need to think for yourself. Take what is useful, discard what is not, add what is uniquely your own.'

  Captain Lyrawyn's eyes widened, and Tavalor could almost see the thoughts racing through her mind. She had been blindly following orders, doing whatever more powerful people told her to do without question.

  Her expression shifted as realisation struck her.

  I must be discerning about which battle tactics I adopt she thought For centuries, I've observed countless military strategies across the realms. Not every dwarven defensive formation or human cavalry charge suits every situation.

  She straightened, her expression growing stronger. I must have the courage to abandon ineffective traditions. I should only do things that work and abandon the rest.

  Finally, she continued, my centuries of experience must culminate in something distinctly mine. I've fought in seventeen campaigns—yet I've hesitated to develop my own tactical doctrine. My unique perspective as both diplomat and warrior offers insights no other captain possesses. It's time to forge these experiences into something that bears my signature.

  She fell silent, her eyes closing in meditation. When she opened them again, they held a new clarity.

  She performed the elven salute—fist on heart, a deeply respectful bow. 'Thank you, Elder, for your guidance.'

  Tavalor tilted his head, genuinely curious. 'What'd you understand?'

  'The reason why you're so powerful is that you've followed your own path,' she said. 'You've had to do it all by yourself. I'll learn from you and make my own way.'

  Tavalor was astonished. He had arrived in this world already strong, growing more powerful simply by eating and sleeping. The idea that he had forged his own path through hard work and determination was laughable—yet her misunderstanding had led her to a valuable insight nonetheless.

  'Good. Good understanding,' he said with fake authority, deciding not to correct her.

  He softened his expression slightly. 'Go and cultivate hard,' he said, with unexpected kindness. Then, remembering himself, he added, 'But if you find me again, I'll make you disappear.' The threat was clear in his voice.

  Captain Lyrawyn paled visibly, but she bowed again. 'Yes, Elder. I promise not to disobey.'

  After she left, Tavalor returned to his chair in the garden. Little Bee and Little Shadow—were darting around aimlessly, playing amongst themselves.

  Tavalor sighed, annoyed with himself.

  He couldn't believe he had been randomly exposed like that. He would need to be more careful. As far as he knew, only one person truly understood his identity: Crestfall.

  Still it wasn't an issue. He settled back in his chair, reaffirming his personal philosophy: so long as nobody bothered him, he wouldn't bother them.

  ***

  The Gilded Hearth hummed with activity as Tavalor occupied his usual window seat, sipping his Calming Brew and eavesdropping on the conversations around him. The impact of the war and his victory—though no one knew it was his—continued to ripple.

  'The southern continent will be at peace for a hundred years after this victory,' an older merchant was saying to his companion, his voice carrying across the café.

  The amount of priceless artefacts and unique treasures coming out has been amazing,' his friend replied. 'My cousin's shop can't keep rare southern materials in stock—they sell out within hours!'

  At another table, two scholars were engaged in heated discussion.

  'The Jade Court will fall out of the first rank of the major forces,' one insisted, adjusting her spectacles. 'There's no recovering from the loss of their most powerful cultivators.'

  'Don't be ridiculous,' her companion scoffed. 'They're still above the five minor forces—the Storm Archipelago Alliance, the Dwarven Confederation, the Northern Tribes, the Celestial Mountains Sects, and the Free Cities Coalition. Besides, the other major forces have made their stance clear—they'll protect the Jade Court.'

  'Only because of the sacrifices they made! They were the only force to lose an [A-Class],' the first scholar countered.

  Tavalor didn't care about any of this. Even though he was involved.

  His focus remained on his day-to-day life—finishing his current shake, planning what to eat for dinner, wondering if he should take another nap.

  He sighed deeply, suddenly aware of the monotony that had settled over his existence. Even with his incredible power, he found himself bored.

  Vallenport, once new and exciting, now offered little to interest him.

  Little Shadow lay on the desk. Little Bee, who had accompanied him to the café (much to Brenna's dismay, though she tolerated the creature for Tavalor's sake), began buzzing excitedly around his head, darting back and forth with unusual intensity.

  What is it?' Tavalor asked, setting down his cup.

  Little Bee continued its frantic dance, its dozens of violet eyes blinking in unison as it spoke in its small voice: 'There's a treasure.'

  Little Bees antennas wiggled as she sent an image over to his mid.

  Images flashed in his mind: violent storms, churning waters, and glowing droplets falling from the sky into the sea. The droplets were coloured a vivid purple-blue, sparkling with unusual magical energy.

  'The Storm Shores?' Tavalor guessed, recognising the famous perpetual tempests from his studies of this world's geography.

  Little Bee's excited buzzing confirmed his guess.

  More images came: Little Bee absorbing the strange droplets, its form growing stronger, more defined. Then, in a surprising vision, Little Bee producing a golden, honey-like substance that radiated magical energy.

  'A special spirit liquid,' Tavalor murmured, understanding. 'You think it can help you produce more powerful magical honey?'

  Little Bee circled his head once, a clear affirmative.

  Tavalor leaned back, considering.

  The Storm Shores were thousands of kilometres away, known for their lethal magical storms and powerful elemental creatures. Few adventurers dared venture there, and even fewer returned.

  But for him—an ancient dragon with [S-Class] power—it would be challenging but manageable. More importantly, it would be something new, something interesting.

  'Alright,' he decided, a smile playing at his lips. 'Let's have an adventure.'

  He paid for his drink and left the café, Little Bee and Little Shadow trailing happily behind him.

  Back at his manor, Tavalor consulted the magical maps he had collected from Joras' shop. Using [Dragon Sight], he studied the location of the Storm Shores—hundreds of thousands of kilometres from Vallenport, across treacherous waters.

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  The maps showed the region as a perpetual maelstrom, where the sea and sky waged constant war. Swirling clouds, magical lightning, and raging whirlpools made the area nearly impassable.

  Perfect.

  'I'll take the Sky-breaker,' he decided,

  Within hours, they were airborne, the powerful vessel slicing through the clouds with ease, magical engines humming steadily. Little Bee darted around the deck, clearly excited about their journey. Little Shadow was much more relaxed at the wheel.

  Days later, as they approached the edge of the Storm Shores, Tavalor stood at the bow, watching lightning split the darkened skies ahead. Even from a distance, he could feel the raw magical energy emanating from the perpetual storm.

  He spread his senses across 5,000 kilometres, familiarising himself with the treacherous terrain below. The sea was a churning cauldron of magical energy, waves rising like mountains before crashing down with devastating force.

  Above, storm clouds released not just rain and lightning, but occasional bursts of pure magical essence—the very spirit liquid Little Bee sought.

  Time to get closer,' he told Little Bee, Little Shadow expertly guiding the Sky-breaker into the outskirts of the storm.

  The ship bucked and rolled as wind and rain assaulted it. Tavalor reinforced the hull with his magic, ensuring it would weather the tempest. They pressed deeper, into the heart of the Storm Shores.

  Finally, Little Shadow brought the vessel to hover above a particularly violent section of water, where magical lightning continuously struck the churning waves. According to his observations, this was where the spirit liquid was most concentrated—and also where the danger was greatest.

  'Wait here,' he instructed Little Bee, who seemed reluctant but obeyed.

  Tavalor leapt from the Sky-breaker, plunging into the raging storm below. The wind and rain battered against him, but his [Ancient Scales] rendered them mere annoyances. As he neared the water, a massive column of liquid rose to meet him—not a natural wave, but a water elemental sensing his approach.

  It crashed against him with enough force to shatter mountains, only to explode into spray upon contact with his [Ancient Scales].

  Tavalor didn't even slow down.

  He plunged beneath the surface, into the dark depths of the Storm Shores. Here, the chaos of the storm was replaced by an eerie, pressurised calm.

  Visibility was limited, but his [Dragon Sight] penetrated the gloom with ease.

  Massive shapes moved in the distance—sea creatures of enormous power, drawn to the magical energies that saturated these waters. They sensed his presence but kept their distance, perhaps remembering the recent deaths of powerful leviathans in their waters.

  Tavalor dove deeper, following the concentration of magical energy. The pressure would have crushed any normal being, but he barely noticed it.

  After a time, he came upon a vast underwater canyon, its walls glittering with strange crystal formations.

  As he watched, a bolt of magical lightning struck the surface far above, and moments later, a glowing droplet of spirit liquid descended through the water, drawn inexorably to the crystals below. Upon contact, the crystals absorbed the droplet, their glow intensifying.

  This is it, Tavalor realised. The crystals collect and concentrate the spirit liquid.

  He approached one of the larger formations, preparing to break off a piece, when a massive presence loomed behind him.

  'Who dares trespass in my territory?' a voice boomed in his mind—a Storm Serpent, its body as long as ten Sky-breakers placed end to end, its scales shimmering with the same energy as the spirit liquid.

  Tavalor turned slowly, regarding the creature with mild interest. 'I'm just collecting some spirit liquid,' he replied calmly. 'I'll be gone shortly.'

  The serpent's eyes widened in surprise. 'You found the source?' it hissed, its massive coils shifting in the water. 'Impossible! I have guarded this canyon for centuries, and none have discovered its secret!'

  So even the local monsters don't know about the crystals, Tavalor thought, amused.

  'The spirit liquid is mine,' the serpent declared, drawing itself up to its full, impressive height. 'Leave now, or face destruction.'

  In response, Tavalor reached out and casually snapped off a large section of crystal, its glow pulsing in his hand. The serpent recoiled in shock, then lunged forward in rage—only to be knocked back by the lightest flick of Tavalor's finger.

  'I said, I'll be gone shortly,' Tavalor repeated, tucking the crystal into his [System Space].

  By now, other powerful sea creatures had been drawn to the commotion, surrounding Tavalor in a loose circle. The Storm Serpent, recovering from its momentary setback, rallied its allies.

  'Take him!' it commanded. 'The spirit liquid must remain ours!'

  Tavalor sighed, growing bored with the confrontation. He collected a few more crystal fragments, making sure he had enough for Little Bee's needs, then simply disappeared in a flash of golden light, leaving the sea creatures confused and enraged.

  He reappeared on the deck of the Sky-breaker, completely dry despite his underwater expedition. Little Bee greeted him with excited buzzing, circling his head rapidly.

  'Yes, I found it,' Tavalor confirmed, producing one of the smaller crystal fragments from his [System Space].

  Little Bee's form vibrated with anticipation as Tavalor carefully extracted a droplet of spirit liquid from the crystal. The liquid hung suspended in the air for a moment, glowing with magical potential, before Little Bee absorbed it.

  The effect was immediate. Little Bee's form expanded slightly, becoming more defined, its violet eyes glowing brighter. It buzzed around the deck excitedly, then settled on the railing, where it began a curious process.

  From its now more defined abdomen, Little Bee started to produce a substance that resembled honey, but glowed with the same intensity as the spirit liquid.

  The honey dripped onto the deck, forming a small, shimmering puddle.

  Tavalor watched, fascinated, as the honey began to crystallise into a form similar to the underwater crystals—but with an even more concentrated magical signature.

  'Interesting,' he murmured, collecting a sample of the honey-crystal for further study.

  With their mission accomplished, Tavalor guided the Sky-breaker away from the Storm Shores, back toward Vallenport.

  ***

  The deck of the Sky-breaker tilted gently as it coursed through the clouds, leaving the Storm Shores far behind. The massive vessel hummed with magical energy, its enchanted engines creating a soothing backdrop of white noise that Tavalor found oddly comforting.

  Tavalor leaned against the polished railing, sipping contentedly from a crystal goblet he'd found in the captain's quarters. The spirit liquid within—shimmered with golden light, its surface rippling with magical energy even in the stillness of the cup.

  Little Shadow perched on his shoulder, now the size of a small cat, its violet eyes watching the horizon with apparent fascination.

  The ship on auto-pilot. The shadow creature had taken to the Sky-breaker with unexpected enthusiasm, manipulating the controls with extensions of its dark form as though it had been sailing magical airships all its life.

  Little Bee had hidden somewhere below deck sleeping.

  He noticed a small island hidden by a formation in the ocean.

  'Look at that,' Tavalor murmured, pointing to a curious structure below them. 'What an odd place to build a fortress.'

  Little Shadow followed his gaze, chirping curiously.

  The island was mostly mountains and, nestled in the crook of a mountain valley, stood a peculiar fortress. Unlike the elegant spires of Vallenport or the now-obliterated grandeur of Miragos, this structure was squat and practical, its walls built of honey-coloured stone that caught the afternoon sun in a golden haze.

  What made it truly remarkable, however, was its location—perched on a narrow ridge between two mountain faces, accessible only by a precarious rope bridge that swayed in the high-altitude winds.

  'Shall we take a closer look?' Tavalor asked, draining his goblet.

  Little Shadow chirped excitedly, immediately adjusting the Sky-breaker's course with eager movements. The massive ship banked gently, descending toward the isolated fortress.

  As they drew nearer, Tavalor's [Dragon Sight] revealed curious details. The fortress wasn't manned by humans or elves or any of the common races he'd encountered in this world. Instead, he spotted peculiar figures scampering along the ramparts—furry, long-limbed creatures with expressive faces and prehensile tails.

  'Monkeys,' Tavalor said with a hint of surprise. 'A fortress guarded by monkeys.'

  Not ordinary monkeys, though. These creatures moved with purpose and intelligence, their posture almost humanoid. Several wore simple armour crafted from leather and polished stone, while others carried spears or bows. A civilisation of intelligent simians, carving out their territory in this remote mountain pass.

  Little Shadow guided the Sky-breaker to hover above the fortress, close enough to observe but far enough to avoid immediate detection.

  The fortress was larger than it first appeared, with a central courtyard surrounded by various structures. One building in particular caught Tavalor's attention—a round, domed edifice with smoke curling lazily from several chimneys. The scent that drifted upward was unmistakable.

  'Do you smell that?' Tavalor asked, his nostrils flaring appreciatively. 'Honey wine.'

  The aroma was rich and complex—sweet honey mellowed by fermentation, infused with mountain herbs and something else... something magical. Whatever these intelligent monkeys were brewing down there, it wasn't ordinary mead.

  Little Shadow chirped inquiringly, its form rippling with anticipation.

  'Yes, I think we should,' Tavalor agreed, interpreting the sound correctly. 'After the day we've had, we deserve a treat, don't we?'

  Tavalor had developed quite an appreciation for the various intoxicants of this world. From the blue Calming Brew at the Gilded Hearth to the rare spirit wines of noble houses, he had sampled many delights.

  But honey wine brewed by intelligent monkeys in a remote mountain fortress? A web novel cliche, but still, a new experience for him.

  'We should be polite guests, of course,' Tavalor said thoughtfully, retrieving a small vial of the iridescent spirit liquid from his [System Space]. 'Leave them something in exchange.'

  Little Shadow tilted its head, violet eyes blinking in what might have been amusement. The shadow creature had quickly learned that Tavalor's definition of 'polite' often differed from conventional understanding.

  Tavalor glanced around the deck of the Sky-breaker, considering his options. 'I think a direct approach would be suspicious. Let's be a bit more... discreet.'

  He activated [Intimidation].

  The monkey guards didn't notice the shadow that passed over them, swift and silent as a cloud. Nor did they observe the tall figure that slipped through their defences with casual ease, [Dragon Sight] allowing him to spot and avoid every sentry and trap.

  The inside of the brewery was warm and humid, filled with the rich scent of fermenting honey. Large wooden vats lined the walls, each sealed with wax and labelled with curious symbols Tavalor didn't recognise.

  The space was immaculate, indicating the monkey brewers took their craft seriously indeed.

  'Now this,' Tavalor murmured appreciatively, examining the nearest vat, 'is craftsmanship.'

  He moved deeper into the brewery, Little Shadow flitting beside him like an attentive familiar. The shadow creature had grown more discerning in its tastes since joining Tavalor, developing a particular fondness for finer foods.

  At the back of the brewery, Tavalor discovered what he was looking for—a special section containing smaller casks, clearly reserved for the finest batches. These weren't merely sealed with wax but protected by simple magical wards as well, glowing faintly in the dim light.

  'Interesting,' Tavalor said, examining the wards with mild curiosity. '[B-Class] work, at most.'

  He dispelled the wards with a casual gesture, then carefully tapped one of the casks. The honey wine that flowed out was a deep amber colour, shimmering with magical energy that indicated infusion with rare herbs or perhaps even low-grade magical ingredients.

  Tavalor produced several empty vessels from his [System Space] and began filling them methodically, pausing occasionally to sample the wine directly.

  The flavour was extraordinary—sweet without being cloying, complex with notes of wild mountain flowers, herbs, and a faint hint of spice. Beneath it all was the unmistakable hum of magical energy, subtle but present.

  'This,' he declared after his third sample, 'is exceptional.'

  Little Shadow chirped in agreement, having absorbed a small puddle of spilled wine, its form momentarily glowing with faint amber light as it processed the liquid.

  Tavalor had filled nearly a dozen containers when he heard the distant sound of chattering—monkey guards changing shifts, perhaps, or brewers coming to check on their precious stock.

  Either way, it was time to conclude their visit.

  He placed the vial of spirit liquid on a small table near the entrance, its iridescent contents catching the light. The vial contained enough magical energy to power the entire brewery for months or enhance dozens of batches of their honey wine.

  A fair trade, by any reasonable measure.

  'Consider it payment for services rendered,' Tavalor said with satisfaction, securing the last vessel of honey wine in his [System Space].

  They slipped out as quietly as they had entered, leaving no trace of their presence beyond the missing wine and the mysterious vial. By the time they returned to the Sky-breaker, now drifting lazily a safe distance from the fortress, the sun had begun to set, casting long shadows across the mountains.

  Settled comfortably on the ship's bow, Tavalor poured two measures of the honey wine—one into a goblet for himself, another into a shallow dish for Little Shadow. The shadow creature hovered eagerly over its portion, absorbing the liquid with obvious delight.

  'To successful acquisitions,' Tavalor toasted, raising his goblet toward the darkening sky.

  Little Shadow's form rippled in response, the absorbed honey wine creating fascinating patterns within its shadowy substance. Magical lines of amber light began to form within its body, spreading like a network of golden veins as it processed the magical energy in the wine.

  Tavalor observed with interest. 'Are you about to evolve?'

  The shadow creature didn't respond directly, but the golden lines continued to spread, growing brighter as they connected in increasingly complex patterns. Little Shadow seemed to pulse with new energy, its form becoming simultaneously more defined and more fluid, as though reaching a new stage of development.

  'Fascinating,' Tavalor murmured, taking another appreciative sip of honey wine. 'You're evolving. Even Emberfist is evolving too.'

  Emberfist had been developing her own powers steadily, each breakthrough marked by increased control over her flames. It seemed Little Shadow followed a similar pattern of growth, albeit through different mechanisms.

  The Sky-breaker continued its journey toward Vallenport, carrying them home through the night sky. Tavalor reclined against the polished railing, content with the day's ventures. A destroyed city-state, a liberated airship, and now a raided monkey fortress with exceptional honey wine—all in all, a productive excursion.

  'We should do this more often,' he decided, refilling his goblet as Little Shadow continued its transformation beside him.

  The shadow creature chirped in what sounded very much like agreement.

  ***

  Meanwhile, in the monkey fortress, chaos had erupted.

  'The Royal Reserve is gone!' shrieked the Chief Brewer, a grey-furred monkey with elaborate silver adornments woven into his fur. 'Six casks, our finest vintage, meant for the Simian Emperor's centennial celebration!'

  Guards scampered in all directions, checking defences that showed no signs of breach. Sentries swore on their ancestors that no intruder had passed their watch.

  Even the magical wards showed no evidence of being broken—they had simply ceased to exist, as though dissolved by something beyond their power to resist.

  The Monkey General, a scarred veteran with a metal-tipped staff, examined the scene with narrowed eyes. 'No forced entry, no witnesses, no traces,' he muttered. 'Only a ghost could—'

  'General!' called a young monkey acolyte, pointing with trembling fingers to a small table near the entrance. 'Look!'

  There, gleaming in the torchlight, sat a small vial containing a swirling, iridescent liquid that seemed to shift between all colours simultaneously.

  The Monkey General approached cautiously, gesturing for his shamans to examine the mysterious offering. After several minutes of careful magical probing, the lead shaman looked up with awe in his eyes.

  'It's pure magical essence,' the shaman whispered, his voice reverent. 'Refined to a degree I've never seen. One drop could enhance an entire batch of Royal Reserve. The entire vial... it could transform our humble brewery into the greatest in all the mountain kingdoms.'

  The Chief Brewer's wails of despair gradually subsided as the implications sank in. He cautiously picked up the vial, studying the hypnotic swirl of colours within.

  'So,' the Monkey General said thoughtfully, 'not a thief, but a trader. Whoever took our wine left us the means to make more—better than before.'

  'But who would have such power?' asked the Chief Brewer. 'To bypass all our defences, to leave no trace, to possess such rare essence?'

  The Monkey General gazed thoughtfully at the night sky, where far above, the silhouette of a massive airship was just visible, drifting away toward the distant lights of Vallenport.

  'Someone,' he said wisely, 'with good taste.'

  He spat on the ground. 'That greedy bastard.'