We decided to head out the next morning.

  As we moved through the forest, I couldn't stop thinking about my limitations. Having piercing claw and venom wasn't enough—not for what lay ahead. I needed elemental magic. Attacks with wider range. More versatility.

  I need to get stronger. Fast.

  As we tried to figure out which direction to go next, an idea formed in my mind.

  "Let's go to where the goblins are," I said to Auralis.

  She looked at me, surprised. "I didn't think you were the type to seek revenge."

  "It's not revenge exactly," I said, remembering the fight—the way the shaman's fire had burned across my back, the way the Hob-goblins had coordinated their assault. "You called me a venom dragon, right? Well, how about I show you what my real ability is."

  She tilted her head in confusion. "Your real ability?"

  "You'll see. But first, I need that shaman goblin's fire magic."

  Understanding flickered in her blue eyes, though confusion remained. "If you want to fight them, we can go. Based on how strong you've become, you could probably handle them now."

  I nodded. "The strategy is simple—you take care of the Hob-goblins. I'll fight the shaman."

  "Confident, aren't we?" But there was approval in her tone.

  We made our way back to the area where I'd fought them before. The scorch marks from the shaman's flames were still visible on the trees, and the ground was littered with bones—remains of creatures that had fallen to the Deathbloom's poison.

  After searching for a while, we found it—a cave entrance, partially hidden behind twisted roots and luminescent fungi.

  "This might be where they live," Auralis said, studying the opening carefully.

  I started to move forward, but she held up a hand.

  "Wait. We should lure them out."

  I stopped. "Why?"

  "Goblins are more strategic than they look. They could have traps inside—pitfalls, crude spikes, alarm systems. Not to mention we don't know the cave's structure or how many of them are in there." She looked at me seriously. "Going in blind is a good way to get surrounded."

  She's right. I've been lucky so far, but luck runs out.

  "But how do we lure them out?" I asked.

  She pondered for a moment, then looked at my claws.

  "Blood. Creatures here are extremely sensitive to it. If we create a trail leading away from the cave..."

  I understood immediately.

  I extended my claw and sliced across my palm—not deep, but enough to draw blood. The pain was sharp but manageable.

  My resistance to pain has definitely increased. All those fights, all those injuries... I'm getting used to it.

  Is that good or bad?

  I pushed the thought away and headed toward the cave entrance, letting blood drip steadily from my hand. I went just far enough inside that the scent would carry, then came back to where Auralis waited near the forest edge.

  She was already working—wind magic swirling around her hands as she manipulated the earth, digging a pit and carefully covering it with branches and moss.

  "You know there was no need for all that, right?" I said, watching her work. "You're strong enough to beat the Hob-goblins without tricks."

  She glanced up at me, and I saw something almost... playful in her expression.

  "Well, we're already being strategic. Might as well go all the way. Besides..." A small smile tugged at her lips. "It's actually kind of fun to fight like this. Using your brain instead of just throwing magic around."

  What is wrong with this mermaid?

  But I couldn't help smiling too.

  We waited, hidden in the underbrush.

  After some time, movement came from the cave entrance.

  Small figures emerged—goblin children, barely two feet tall, with oversized heads and crude wooden clubs. They were following the blood trail, chattering excitedly in their guttural language.

  Children.

  The word felt heavy.

  They rushed forward eagerly, following the scent—

  And fell straight into Auralis's pit with startled yelps.

  Well. That's one way to deal with them.

  The goblin children started screaming—high-pitched, panicked sounds that echoed through the forest.

  And then the cave entrance erupted.

  Three Hob-goblins burst out, muscles bulging, rust-covered swords in hand. Behind them came the shaman, staff glowing faintly, bone mask covering its face.

  Only three Hob-goblins now. Two must have died to the Deathbloom during our last encounter.

  The moment they saw me, they shrieked—rage and recognition mixing in their voices.

  They remember me. Good.

  Auralis and I stepped out of hiding.

  The goblins went into a frenzy, screaming and beating their chests.

  "Let's get into position," I said to Auralis. "Just as we planned—take care of the Hob-goblins for me."

  "Sure." She cracked her knuckles, wind already beginning to swirl around her. "It won't take long."

  [AURALIS'S PERSPECTIVE]

  The three Hob-goblins immediately focused on me, recognizing the greater threat.

  Smart. For goblins.

  They covered themselves with mana—crude, but efficient—and charged with their rusted swords raised.

  I raised my hand. "Wind Magic: Barrier."

  Their swords slammed into my shield with heavy thunks, the impacts rippling across the translucent surface but not breaking through.

  I studied them as they attacked again and again.

  They can't use magic directly. They're just using mana to enhance their physical strength.

  Their mana capacity was low. Just enough to reinforce their bodies, make their strikes hit harder. But they utilized it efficiently, I'd give them that. Focusing it entirely into their muscles, not wasting a single drop.

  Still, this ends now.

  I dropped the barrier and moved.

  "Wind Magic: Wind Slash."

  I compressed the air into three precise blades, sharpening them to near-invisible edges, and sent them forward in a single horizontal arc.

  The Hob-goblins didn't even have time to react.

  Three heads hit the ground simultaneously, bodies following a second later.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Done.

  I looked over to see how dragon-boy was doing—

  And froze.

  He's not using mana at all.

  He was fighting the shaman purely with physical strength—dodging fireballs, closing distance, throwing punches and kicks with raw speed and power.

  What is he thinking?

  The shaman goblin was using its staff as a medium, gathering environmental mana quickly and launching spell after spell. Fire bloomed around it in waves—destructive, chaotic, turning the area into a furnace.

  But the shaman's physical strength was pathetic. It relied entirely on magic, and that staff—while allowing fast casting—drained its stamina rapidly. It couldn't keep this up forever.

  So why isn't he using mana? Why isn't he ending this quickly?

  Dragon-boy dashed forward suddenly—faster than I expected—and kicked the shaman square in the chest.

  The goblin flew backward, slamming into a tree with a sickening crack.

  I see. He's testing himself. Seeing how much stronger his body has become after learning mana control.

  The shaman scrambled to its feet, furious now. It chanted rapidly, and multiple fireballs formed around its staff—six, seven, eight—

  He dodged them all, weaving between the projectiles with frightening precision.

  The shaman shrieked in frustration and changed tactics.

  The temperature spiked.

  The flames around its staff turned blue—compressed, superheated, far more dangerous than before. The surrounding mana condensed into a massive sphere of fire, growing larger and larger.

  It's putting everything into one attack.

  Dragon-boy stopped moving.

  And then, finally, I felt it—his mana flaring to life.

  It wrapped around his body like armor, reinforcing every muscle, every scale. His speed doubled, maybe more.

  The shaman hurled the massive fireball—

  And he charged straight into it.

  What—

  No!

  The flames engulfed him completely. His body caught fire, scales blackening, smoke rising from his form—

  But he didn't stop.

  He ran through the fire, wreathed in flames like a demon, and closed the distance in less than a second.

  The shaman's eyes went wide behind its mask.

  His burning fist connected with its face.

  CRACK.

  The shaman's skull caved in. Its body went limp instantly, collapsing like a puppet with cut strings.

  Dragon-boy stood there for a moment, flames still licking across his scales, breathing hard.

  Then he dropped to his knees and began to devour the shaman.

  Claws tearing. Jaws ripping. Blood spraying.

  What...?

  The flames on his body began to die down as he ate, revealing charred scales and burned flesh beneath.

  But he kept eating.

  When he finally stood, his body was burned .

  He walked toward me slowly, wincing with each step.

  "Ah. That sure hurt," he said casually, as if he hadn't just set himself on fire.

  I stared at him. "Well, duh. You took an attack like that head-on. Why did you do that?"

  "I wanted to see how strong I am without relying on my abilities. Understand my limits. And figure out how to properly reinforce myself with mana during extreme situations." He shrugged—then winced again. "That's all."

  "You took unnecessary damage for a test," I said flatly. "Not to mention you ate the shaman like that. Were you that hungry?"

  He looked at me, and something shifted in his expression.

  "That's when you'll see what my real magic is."

  Before I could respond, the screaming from the pit grew louder—the goblin children still trapped, panicking.

  His expression didn't change. He walked toward the hole calmly.

  "I'll give them a painless death," he said simply.

  He raised his hand.

  And chanted.

  "Fireball."

  Fire—the shaman's fire magic—erupted from his palm, identical in form and color to what the goblin had used.

  The flames poured into the pit.

  The screaming stopped immediately.

  Silence.

  He turned back to me, and for a split second, looking into his eyes was like staring into darkness itself. Cold. Empty. Efficient.

  "Now you get it?" he asked.

  I understood.

  The moment he devoured that shaman, he gained its magic.

  His real ability... is taking what others have.

  "It's your unique skill," I said quietly. Not a question. A statement.

  "Yes."

  My mind raced. I've never heard of unique skill like this before. Skills that enhance existing abilities, yes. Skills that grant special attacks, yes. But a skill that lets you steal other creatures' magic entirely?

  "What exactly is a unique skill?" he asked suddenly.

  I collected my thoughts. "It's a special ability that's unique to the user—usually related to the magic you were born with. It might enhance your spells, grant you a special attack, or provide some other advantage. But it's always connected to your innate magic type."

  But his skill lets him take OTHER magic types. That's...

  That's enormous potential.

  Terrifying potential.

  He pondered my words, then looked down at the pit where everything had burned to ash.

  "Let's rest," he said quietly, and walked toward the cave entrance.

  I followed slowly, my mind still processing.

  Dragon-boy and I... I thought we were similar. Both outcasts. Both alone.

  But there's a fundamental difference.

  He has no hesitation when he kills. Children, adults, anyone—it doesn't matter. There's no guilt in his eyes. No remorse.

  It's like he doesn't consider himself the same as monsters.

  But the way he fights... the way he looks at other creatures as he kills them without hesitation...its like he thinks he doing good thing killing monster.

  But you don't realize it yet but you're far more of a monster than any of us.

  I watched his back as he walked ahead of me.

  Who are you really, dragon-boy?

  What are you hiding?

  And what will you become if you keep devouring everything in your path.