A Tyrant, Sort Of

The Endless Peaks approached rapidly as Sable flew for them, and as she closed mile after mile she found her awe growing in pace with the towering mountain range. They loomed over the forest at all times, but Sable had somehow forgotten just how gigantic they were. She ascended and ascended and her efforts barely made a dent. How many miles up were these things? Had they been formed naturally? She couldn’t imagine they had. Some sort of magic had to have gone into their creation.

It wouldn’t be the only geographic feature to have been so. In their talks, Roman had mentioned the Elemental Isles off the eastern coast of the continent, not far from Wastehaven, which were, allegedly, literal flying islands, suspended several hundred to a few thousand feet off the surface of the ocean. The fantastical nature of this world didn’t extend only to its flora and fauna; the world itself teemed with magic, down to its very construction.

The air turned frosty as Sable climbed into the heavens and the landscape washed white, dotted with jagged gray stones, but while she noticed the temperature, she felt not even mild discomfort at what had to be a piercingly cold temperature. She briefly wondered whether her minions would hold up. They were reinforced by stats and classes, and therefore far more durable than a regular person, but Aylin especially might not be able to handle the cold.

Regardless, she needed to relocate her hoard. It took her, a literal dragon, some time and effort to near the peaks of the gargantuan mountains, which boded well for them being a defensible lair location. It would be downright nightmarish for an enterprising group of adventures to climb up and attempt to encroach on her territory, if not outright impossible. Likely they’d get creative, enlisting some sort of flying beast to help them ascend, but it added another hurtle. Layers of defenses—always a good thing.

But as she’d so dramatically learned in her first few minutes arriving to this world, despite seeming barren, monsters lurked across this snowy, jagged wasteland. Strong ones, too. Her eye snagged on one such camouflaged lump of white fur as it trod a thick line through snow. Its trail had given it away more than the creature itself; the beast’s white fur blended with the environment almost perfectly.

[Permafrost Prowler - Lv. 17]

Roman had said the world was broken down into ‘zones’, progressing from green to black in ten level increments, and going by the rare monsters Sable saw crawling around on the slopes, she could infer the Endless Peaks were a high yellow or possible a low red zone.

Normally this would mean the mountain range would be a valuable resource, since danger came with reward, and societies tended to vie over control of powerful hunting grounds, but Sable could infer the Endless Peaks didn’t quite fit the formula. The monsters, while higher level than their surroundings, were sparse, and more than that, the geographical inconvenience made the area next to unusable as a hunting grounds. Even for Sable herself, having higher level opponents likely mattered less than having a higher quantity of ones. Of the two options, picking off a few level twenties versus scorching dozens and dozens of level fifteens, she suspected the latter supplied more experience. And posed less threat to her health.

Regardless, the Endless Peaks were the strongest zone she’d been in. She could feel the ‘latent mana’ that Roman had mentioned. It was like being in an area with denser, cleaner oxygen—except for the part of her brain that recognized magic. She couldn’t precisely describe it, but the effect made itself apparent as soon as she paid attention.

Soaring between valleys, slopes, and cliff faces, she tracked down a potential lair. Naturally, she gravitated toward the peaks that rose highest. Should she make a more permanent home among these jagged spires, then clearly she would do so with one that stretched highest into the sky. She would hardly settle for a second-rate mountain retreat.

A few cave openings presented themselves, but ones that met Sable’s criteria were rare. Namely, that the opening had to be large. Large enough to fit not just her bulk as it stood, but preferably be future-proofed. Since dragons could become rather gigantic, she didn’t expect to find one that could fit her indefinitely—though the larger the better.

Maybe she would have to transform into her humanoid form to enter her lair once she reached that unwieldy size, though she didn’t like the idea of that. It introduced a clear and predictable weak point—a time to ambush her. Then again, if her hoard had somehow been raided and secured, with the invading party on standby to ambush her as she entered, then she had bigger problems, and had probably already lost.

Regardless, the bigger the better. She spent around an hour swooping up and down the mountain range, seeking out potential new homes. The first candidate unfortunately tapered down until it closed off. The second did similar. Finally, though, on her third expedition, she found a cave opening that wasn’t just accommodating with its entrance size, but one that, after some trekking forward, sprawled into an enormous cavern. Since Sable would probably have to store veritable mountains of gold as her empire grew, and would probably want to decorate and create something closer to a home in the first place, the large space was appreciated.

There was just one problem. One she wouldn’t say she was surprised by. Of course choice real estate would have competitors.

The mass of white fur, the occupant of the cavern, laid surrounded by dozens or hundreds of animals bones—and not small ones, but gigantic pieces of femurs, and broken skulls of various shapes and sizes. The mountain of fur breathed up and down in a slow, rhythmic fashion, undisturbed by Sable’s entrance.

A polar bear. Or, rather, that was the Earth analog Sable drew. And hibernating—or maybe a heavy sleeper. Even Sable clomping through hadn’t woken it. She suspected the beast didn’t have many natural predators to worry about when it came to ambushes, so it could afford to sleep through just about anything.

The beast was easily the largest monster she’d seen so far, besides the [Greater Aspect]. Bigger even than the hivemother—though like usual, her rapid growth made gauging sizes difficult. Still, it was larger than her, even curled up and sleeping. It had two heads; each rested on either of its paws. Shimmering white fur glinted in the light produced by the luminescent moss clinging to the cave walls.

She inspected it.

[Frostfang Titan - Lv. 16]

Sable paused, briefly underwhelmed by the creature’s level. Considering its size and general aura of strength, even while sleeping, she’d expected more.

But, she realized, the strength of monsters couldn’t strictly be trusted by their level. Sable herself was a flying testament to that. Roman had mentioned that the Adventurer’s Guild tended to break down threats into letter-grade classes: A-rank, B-rank, and so on, exactly because monster levels were unreliable to true strength.

So maybe this [Frostfang Titan] had only progressed to level sixteen, but that said little for how much threat it really posed. Considering its gigantic bulk? That it had claimed prime real estate on a prominent mountain cap in the dangerous territory of the Endless Peaks?

Odds were low that the beast could fight fifteen levels above its weight class like Sable herself could, but perhaps five or more? That would put the beast in the equivalent of the low twenties—which was a threat Sable would need to think twice about tackling. Especially injured.

That soured her mood. She had found an ideal place to set up her lair and hoard, yet an occupant strong enough she couldn’t barrel head-first into an altercation with had laid claim to the space.

She considered her options. It was sleeping. She could get a nasty sneak attack off. And maybe the beast wasn’t even one of the special monsters that could fight a tier above its real level, and Sable was overthinking all of this. Those creatures were rare. Even the hivemother had been a legitimate level sixteen—at least by her appraisal.

Maybe [Predator’s Insight] could confirm or deny. The problem with using that ability was that it alerted the target. Though, while sleeping? She didn’t know.

She might as well find out. The beast might wake, which would waste her opportunity for a sneak attack, but having an idea of how strong it was felt like the more prudent path to take. If the skill told her not to mess with the bear, then she’d high-tail it out of there. Otherwise, she’d dispatch the level sixteen as the inferior threat it was.

The skill activated. Information flooded her mind. Her concerns were confirmed—the ability warned her of danger, far more intense than any of the level fifteen goblin warriors she’d seen. But not overwhelmingly so. [Predator’s Insight] told her the fight would be difficult but far from impossible.

Two pairs of eyes opened, and two polar bear heads jerked to attention as it awoke with a start. Ice-blue eyes locked to her. There was a moment of silence as Sable and the creature looked at each other, then the beast slowly climbed to its feet, and a menacing growl echoed through the cavern. On four legs, the gigantic polar bear was even bulkier than she’d thought.

Reluctantly, and pride bristling at her decision, Sable turned tail and tactically retreated. She was only a bit above half health, and still around a third on her mana. She itched to throw herself at the beast and see how the fight resolved itself, but at the same time, she wasn’t suicidal. Why risk it? Heal, then come back and fight while at full strength. Letting her ego and bloodlust guide her would be how she joined her ancestors in an ignominious death.

The cavern shook as the Frostfang Titan roared and charged her, but Sable threw herself out from the cave opening and into open air well before it could catch up. It had been disoriented from waking, and not that fast to begin with.

She eyed the creature as she soared away. Spittle flew from two open mouths as it screamed its displeasure.

Yes, she could tell that fight was going to be fun. Early next morning, once she’d recovered further. She just had to be patient.