Chapter 42: True Names
On the second day of Han’s new adventure, a cold morning reminded him of the events he had been forced to flee. He left his makeshift bed and walked to the bonfire his maids had set up. Denver huddled so close to the flames he looked ready to hug them. The night was too cold for him. Everyone else handled it well, except the slaves.
Even so, Han’s maids hunted plenty of food. They cooked meat and prepared edible plants gathered from the forest. Heaps of meat and greens piled up, proof of how reliable they were.
"You could start a restaurant with this much food, Han," Denver said casually as he took his plate of meat and greens.
He wolfed it down.
Han sat on a log Hanna had cut and crossed his legs. "A restaurant? Well, a restaurant run by maids doesn’t sound that bad, given how my maids will soon look."
It would make a good cover for his operations within the Steel Fortress. And judging by his maids’ bright eyes and unrestrained yearning, Han figured he could run a place like that just fine. It might earn him enemies out to snatch his women. With their looks, that was a given.
And it would give him an excuse to snatch other women as well. Not like I need excuses.
Han drank tea his maids had brought from his mansion. He had his own food reserves, but he wouldn’t share them with Denver.
Once Denver realized it, he knew he was eating a slave’s food. He stared at his plate of half-eaten meat and greens, then shrugged. It’s delicious, so who cares. Those slaves got lucky. He finished his plate.
Meanwhile, Han took his time savoring his meal. His maids had already eaten and were ready to continue carrying out his orders. They now distributed plates of food to the slaves.
The warm meat made the slaves salivate and look at the maids with puppy-dog eyes.
"Don’t fight over food. One plate each. If you make a mess, Master will punish you," a maid said.
"Master went easy on you yesterday," another added, and the slaves shivered.
With practiced movements, the maids slid plates in front of everyone. To an onlooker, it would have looked like bowling, except the goal was to slide each plate to a stop without hitting anyone. When the maids moved to the next carriage, the slaves stooped like dogs and ate with their cuffed hands.
Thirty minutes later, Han called a few specific slaves to his side. Three of them were Demi-Humans with bloodlines of orcs, ogres, and trolls. Orcs looked like half-dwarves: short, with pale green skin. Small horns jutted from their foreheads, the tips clearly cut off. Ogres were larger versions of orcs, with thick muscles and canines peeking from their mouths. Trolls were ugly humanoids with blotchy, deformed faces.
Despite the differences, their bloodlines were similar. Fed at last, their bodies no longer looked malnourished. It was clear they were a cut above the others.
"Enjoyed your food?" Han asked.
"Yes," the three chorused, nodding.
"You should thank me, but who am I to teach you decorum? Your future masters will," Han replied, his flat tone making the slaves grimace. "You’re still a cut above the others and can survive. Maybe life will treat you better and give you a different fate. It already gave you a chance: your bloodlines are better than the rest, and you met me."
"Prepare." He created the Scarlet Cauldron Magic Circle at the slaves’ feet.
Without giving them time to prepare, Han activated his Scarlet Cauldron and burned the chosen slaves’ blood. They collapsed, clutching their arms and stomachs. The pain was immense, even more so because they were just average Demi-Humans.
Humans craft Spells, then use them through Magic Circles and Mana. That produces an essence tied to their foundation and spells. The more they use their spells, the stronger the essence becomes, and their spells grow with it. As that prowess increases, they rank up. I ranked up easily because my essence grew strong from all the Mana I absorbed from Cauldrons and White Snakes. But for Demi-Humans, it’s different. Their strength comes directly from their bloodlines.
Forcing evolution through pain and bloodline burning was one of the concepts Han wanted to test. So far, he hadn’t achieved much. The slaves bled from their orifices and screamed into the open forest, clutching their heads or banging their heads against the forest floor.
Maybe he needed another trigger. Han remembered how his first victims of Evolution had called his True Name.
Giving these slaves his True Name would be asinine, though.
So Han decided to give them their own True Names as the Black Dragon. Something deep inside told him he was the sole Black Dragon in the world. From experience, he knew how True Names were woven into a bloodline’s strands, so he drew on that and began writing the True Names in the common language of this world.
Greed. Strength. Gluttony.
All three slaves suddenly choked on their blood and froze in place. A moment later, the orc’s broken horns elongated slightly and his skin darkened. The ogre’s muscles swelled, and his height doubled. The troll’s skin turned bronze and tougher, and he began to drool excessively, his saliva burning the ground like poison.
In their eyes, Han saw new emotions and purpose.
He smiled. I see. The True Names gave them new meaning, loosening the hold of their assigned roles as Wyrds, the Demi-Humans.
Had it not been for their collars, the slaves might have broken free and chased their deepest desires. Han spread his wings wide, extended his horns, and rose, his tail kicking the log aside.
"Quiet," he said.
All the slaves bowed low, not daring to make a sound.
That’s it. I mustn’t let anyone control me like I do them. I must be Apex Dragon. Let’s experiment more with their new purposes, True Names, and bloodlines. I can’t wait to see the results.
Behind Han, Denver watched the scene with a shocked expression, realizing what a talented monster Han was. It was only the tip of the iceberg!
He’s crazy talented!