Morphling

Zamorg

Peerless. Unbroken. Destroyer.

Black Demon

When the Guild first learned of its existence, there was an uproar due to the nature of its discovery. Several teams that were out on reconnaissance around the borders of the Noctus Lagoon had disappeared and were later found either shaken up or badly injured.

Strangely, there were no deaths, but the number of injuries were high and some had their minds on the brink of insanity muttering only two words.

“Black Demon”

The Guild sent their best available reconnaissance teams at the time to study the beast and assess its abilities, but never did they expect that none of the teams would be successful in even simply observing it.

Not only did it have unprecedented strength, but also unheard-of intelligence among the Tyrants as they were able to glean that it chose not to kill the mercenaries because it was learning from them. After multiple interactions, this was what the observation teams had deduced and reported to the Guild.

The beast enjoyed fighting and the teams it had beaten kept returning either for revenge or with better preparation to subjugate it, but ultimately none were successful.

Of course, none at the time would’ve known that Oneris was supporting the black Tyrant, but from the Guild’s perspective back then, the black Tyrant was indeed amongst the greatest of threats they had ever come to face due to its combined strength and intelligence.

Taking the name from a demon of legend and a mythical monster, the Guild gave it its moniker and had given it a title bearing the word “Demon” along with “Destruction”, due to its capacity to level the environment.

Of course, given enough time and the support from Central, the Guild would’ve had the resources to truly challenge the beast, but it was deemed an impractical use of expenses and manpower. Noctus Lagoon was a point of interest but wasn’t considered a zone of value due to sparse known resources.

It was also located deeper within the second layer of the Cradle, so just getting approval from above would’ve taken more time than it was worth.

In the end, Zamorg reigned supreme as the strongest known Tyrant within Noctalum and remained unchallenged throughout the years.

That is until it had met the changeling.

Never had it faced such an incomprehensible foe. Its strengths changed amidst the flow of their battle and what once was a weakness would either disappear or turn into an advantage. In the end, the Tyrant lost but was surprisingly spared.

For a time, it was upset that it lost. However, it eventually came to realize that losing didn’t mean the end. Since it was spared, it was given a chance to become stronger once again. It now had a desire to win and reclaim its previous status as a lord amongst beasts. Having found a goal for itself, life no longer felt stale.

That was why Zamorg fought so fiercely against the Niskari Lord. It couldn’t suffer another enemy stronger than itself before it could even come close to its goal, so it decided to unleash all it had.

But this was a Niskari Lord; a being above those that go beyond the nature of the world.

Despite its rage, despite its strength, despite its unyielding will – Zamorg’s fists… shattered.

With a roar of pain, the black Tyrant leapt back and looked upon its hands.

Bloodied, cracked, and the bones exposed – its hands looked as though they would crumble like weathered stone.

It was stunned. Even against its fight with the changeling its fists were merely cracked, but here they looked as though they would crumble at any moment.

It couldn’t believe that no matter how much it had fought, it all felt meaningless against the monster before it. For the first time, the black Tyrant was experiencing… helplessness.

From its hands, it looked towards the monstrosity before it. Uncaring of the Tyrant’s thoughts, the creature merely roared and shrieked at it as it prepared to charge at the Tyrant once again.

Zamorg felt weak before it and yet… rather than fear… its eyes continued to show defiance.

Even if it were to fall today, the black Tyrant’s will remained unbroken. It chose to stand before this creature and leave the rest to its new lord.

The Niskari Lord shrieked one more time and leapt at Zamorg.

At that point, the black Tyrant roared with all it had and charged forth. It would fight to its last breath.

– - –

It took all that Jortus had to stimulate even a single one of the beast’s mana pathways. He couldn’t believe how dense its mana was.

He felt like he was trying to alter the flow of an entire river the size of the sea. The amount was simply absurd.

Fortunately, this was still simple mana; not the pure concentrated energy of a [Worldly Lord], so he was still able to influence it somewhat.

If a Dragon or anything similar were able to convert this much energy into [Etheria] – the purest and most concentrated form of mana; Jortus had no doubt that that Dragon could possibly become the new [Guardian of Creation] of this world.

He was truly curious; how could a single lifeform possess so much mana?

So many thoughts and questions passed through his mind and lingered for but a moment as the majority of his concentration was still on stimulating the creature’s mana pathways.

While the old mage struggled to nudge the mana in even the slightest way possible, the changeling observed the reaction within its once-hidden pathways. Now that the human had shown it the path, all became visible and tangible to its senses.

As it observed, it gradually understood the sensations and imitated the same actions through the pathways that weren’t within the human’s reach.

The human struggled to move its power, but the interaction gave it understanding of the principles involved.

As its understanding grew, so did the speed at which its power flowed. Like a growing tide, the mana surged through the pathways and soon began to envelop mainly four distinct regions of its body that were represented by its current four limbs.

Before Jortus could understand what happened, the stump of the arm he was observing suddenly grew out.

A powerful pulse of energy burst forth knocking the old mage off his feet, but was quickly cradled in the changeling’s other arm preventing his fall.

Jortus looked back at the arm and with awe in his eyes he finally realized… they had succeeded.

Like a heartbeat, the energy pulsed and surged as it engulfed the entirety of the changeling like a cocoon of light.

Jortus and the little fae watched the “cocoon” with bated breath as the glow intensified.

Soon, the light began to dissipate into particles, but before anyone could even catch a glimpse of what was within it, the light had burst like a balloon leaving the mage and the little one feeling only a rush of air going past them.

With the light finally gone, there was simply nothing but the ground where the changeling had been.

Jortus looked towards the little fae who appeared just as confused and kept looking around. Apparently, they had the same thought – What just happened?

– - –

The black Tyrant was stunned. It charged forward head first since its arms were rendered useless, but a bright light had suddenly appeared before its path.

Blinded by its brilliance, it slowly opened its eyes as the light began to dim.

From the blur it could somewhat see the broad back of a familiar beast, but strangely it was illuminated by prismatic trails of mana that appeared like a systematic web all across its body.

By this time, its sight began to fully return and Zamorg could now truly see what had happened.

The being before it, the one who had beaten the black Tyrant into submission and became its new lord, turned towards it and nodded.

The changeling had transformed once more, but this was no simple alteration akin to shapeshifting. This change was more substantial; almost similar to when it had devoured the black entity.

But rather than a complete qualitative growth, this feeling was akin more to a sense of relief at finally being whole or a feeling of something finally aligning from what once felt disjointed.

It never realized, but its unspent mana that had accumulated over time had caused a sense of discomfort that dulled its ability to exert its outmost potential.

But now that pressure was no more and the changeling felt incredible exhilaration as though its body was just set free from years of restraints.

Its general appearance remained mostly the same, but its body grew darker while giving off a luster that seemed to mirror the starry night. Around its body, the largest of its mana pathways pulsed with prismatic colors bearing similarities to the structured lines on a circuit rather than the natural branches of veins.

Its extremities, namely its forearms and forelegs, were wreathed in a white blaze and gave the impression that they were made of white fire.

The bone mask on its face turned ebony black and wrapped around its entire head with the changeling’s eyes seemingly having turned into wisps of blue fire within its sockets.

And finally, on its head its horns have turned into antlers in the form of a razor crown with the tendrils at their backs appearing like a burning lash.

This was the changeling with its mana unbound.

It had sensed the black Tyrant’s condition and had immediately charged forth to intercept their clash, but never did it expect that even the slightest movement could cause the power within it to explode with such force.

Fortunately, with its absolute control of its mental faculties, it wasn’t stunned by the unexpected result and immediately corrected its output. Faster than the eye could blink, the changeling had arrived before the red entity and subdued it.

Currently flailing and shrieking in its arm, the changeling held the Niskari by the throat as it wished to analyze the creature thoroughly.

Unfortunately, the entity was cunning, so when it realized it couldn’t escape through force, its head extended and tried to reach the changeling’s face with an expanded void-like maw.

Quickly tossing the creature aside with the force of a cannon, the Niskari crashed through the earth like a stone skipping across water until it finally smashed onto a large hill.

Twitching, the Niskari Lord shrieked as it slowly stood to face the changeling.

In turn, the changeling lowered its upper body seemingly in a bow and extended its arms to the side giving the impression that it was welcoming the Niskari.

Its mouth watered in delight. It was finally time for the hunt.

***