Chapter 59: Transform-Erode

Back home, Nathan ate dinner with his mom, faked going off to do homework, and only then returned to his room, paid one starling, and re-entered the Hourbound Grove.

The Hourbound Grove was its same old self, the Phantomveil Vine waving countless vines in welcome of its host's return.

Nathan spread his arms wide, drew a deep breath, and bellowed: "I'm baaack!"

The Phantomveil Vine's countless tendrils flew out, rolling into wave after wave of vines, circling Nathan once, then converging into a throne that lifted him up and surged toward the depths of the Hourbound Grove.

Nathan gave the Phantomveil Vine its capture orders and left it alone, quietly driving the Titan Godslayer Canon and starting his assault on the Nine Shadowlashes's seventh layer.

When running the Titan Godslayer Canon, he could power exactly two combat arts: the Star-Swallowing Form, derived from the Method itself, and the Nine Shadowlashes.

The Quakefist Strike and the Adamantine Body driven by the Ennead Crucible were stronger, but the Quakefist Strike had advanced too fast, quickly reaching the ninth layer; the Adamantine Body had been seized from the Hundred-Refined Ironweave Grub and started at the ninth layer outright.

For whatever reason, once those two arts hit the ninth layer, they refused to advance any further—so Nathan badly wanted to test whether the Nine Shadowlashes could still break through.

The strongest bloodborn beasts of the Hourbound Grove had all been sealed away, and only the Phantomveil Vine that Nathan had released was the mightiest thing around—so he could practically run wild across the place.

The Phantomveil Vine's artificial spiritual consciousness was extremely powerful; within a short roam it had sniffed out ten-odd bloodborn beasts, and each time it met one, a single coil of vines was enough to take it alive.

The Order of the Deathless might have a lofty, ascendant name, but the arts it put out were all rather dark and vicious—the Nine Shadowlashes especially.

Its Transform-Erode change in particular could melt away an enemy's essence and blood and devour their bond-power, much like that famous penny serial with its wildly popular martial art, the "Titan's Four Erosions."

Having the Phantomveil Vine hunt bloodborn beasts on its own was also for his own training.

Naturally he could never copy those big evil orders and grand villains who practiced on innocent living beings—but the bloodborn beasts of the Hourbound Grove gave him no psychological hang-ups.

As for after he'd mastered the art, it would naturally be for fighting enemies; once someone's an enemy, what art you use on them stops mattering. Winning is what counts, means come second—righteous orders' arts kill people too.

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Nathan's hands swept out two vitae whips, coiled around the bloodborn beasts the Phantomveil Vine had caught, and quietly drove his power—barely ten-odd minutes, and those beasts were drained to husks, mummified corpses.

Boy and beast worked in seamless lockstep—and the wild bloodborn beasts of the Hourbound Grove paid dearly for it.

By the time the Phantomveil Vine's catch passed fifty beasts, Nathan called it to a halt and launched another assault on the Nine Shadowlashes's seventh layer.

Layer upon layer of black-light vitae broke out of his body, twisting in the air into a sky-reaching vortex; under Nathan's control, the vitae cyclone spun faster and faster, wound tighter and tighter.

When he judged it ready, he suddenly pulled inward—the cyclone collapsed toward its center, and a swallowing force appeared out of thin air.

In his past assaults on the seventh layer, this was the exact step where he'd failed again and again—unable to turn the vitae whip into a vortex and birth that sucking force.

This time he worked with hair-trigger care, but at the critical juncture the vitae still frayed apart slightly.

Every time the aether came apart, the attainment failed, and disappointment rose in him—half giving up on the whole pot, he just drove the Star-Swallowing Form.

He'd meant to slurp the vitae back and try again later—but to his surprise, the moment the Star-Swallowing Form engaged, the vitae restabilized.

The inward-collapsing vitae whip underwent a marvelous metamorphosis: dozens of strands of vitae twisted into one, becoming a sinuous long whip that folded through the air, cracking it with snap-snap-snap reports.

The Nine Shadowlashes broke the seventh and eighth layers in one stroke, completing the fourth change—Transform-Erode.

Now the vitae whip carried the strange power of absorb-and-devour: against dead objects like weapons it didn't show, but strike a living body, and it drained essence, drank blood, eroded bond-power—killing power up at least five times over.

Nathan's blood sang. He leapt off the Phantomveil Vine and tore off at a dead sprint; two or three kilometers out he spotted a bloodborn beast, and without so much as checking what species it was, flicked his hand—one whip flew out and instantly lashed the beast into quartered fragments.

He'd known the strike would maul the beast, but he hadn't expected power like this.

A light probe of his senses told him why: that whip had first devoured essence and blood and absorbed its vitae, and only then delivered the hard force.

With its vitae armor gone and its essence drained, the beast's body was brittle as dry reeds—the whip's hard force hitting flesh was simply smashing through kindling.

Nathan gave a clear whistle, milking the lone-hero act for all it was worth, then slowly drew the vitae whip back into his body, more than a little pleased with himself, muttering: "Fourth change of the Nine Shadowlashes, done. One more step to the fifth, and even running into that lunatic from today, I might not have to fear him." He pondered a moment, then shook his head—deep down he still felt that never having to fight anyone at all would be best.

Breaking the seventh and eighth layers of the Nine Shadowlashes on today's first attempt left Nathan excited but also a little hollow. His mind spun a few circles, and he dug out the chain-quest scroll he'd gotten earlier.

This chain-quest scroll held eighteen quests in all; Nathan had completed exactly one—the Phantomveil Vine quest—and hadn't had time for the rest.

Especially with his Raging Gale contract: two of the ascendant seeds were tied to the chain quest, and those two seals happened to hold the Drakefern and the Hourlost Bloom.

Nathan studied the quest scroll a while, leapt back onto the Phantomveil Vine, drove the war-beast, and made straight for the Sealing Platform that held the Drakefern.

He had time left today anyway, so he figured he'd smash that Sealing Platform first and set the Drakefern free.

Drakefern was a bit like caterpillar fungus: it grew in plant form, but a Drakefern over a century old had a chance, on a night of thunder and rain, to molt and become a dragon—not a true dragon of legend, not even a fen-wyrm, merely the lowest tier of grass dragon. It could swim but not fly, could stir wind and waves but not command clouds and rain—still, dragon-kind was dragon-kind.

For crafting relics—war-beasts especially—fen-wyrm materials were in high demand: horn, tendon, scale, blood. But the Drake family was one of the Seven Great Houses, and the highest-ranked of them at that, with strength beyond imagination; not one scrap of dragon-kind raw material ever left their hands.

Drakefern was born a plant-type bloodborn creature, unrecognized by the Drake family—and since it could molt into a dragon, it was virtually the perfect substitute material. Market demand for Drakefern ran red-hot; who knew how many bloodborn-funded institutes were researching its Art and growth acceleration.

Drakefern turned a profit a hundred times Goldspear Thistle's or better. Under Nathan's contract with the Raging Gale, if he could deliver a decently matured batch of Drakefern, he'd pull at least another advance payment in the millions of starlings.