Book 5 - Chapter 51 - Minor Interlude – Clover & Lumornor – The March of Progress (Patreon)

AN: And with this, book 5 is done!

Barring significant incident, Book 6 - Chapter 1 should drop Friday!

“Why in the clearest prisms is someone’s pet in here?”

Very few elves painted or ornamented their horns, but the loud elf that was bothering Clover while she tried to enjoy her vegetable and fruit juice cocktail was an extremely garish exception. His tall, spiraling horns were painted in colors that were presumably quite vivid, given how muted they were to the eyes of a bunny, and there were tiny shards of gemstones stuck onto them with adhesive. Was the man aware that he was an eyesore, or was his vision somehow impaired?

She tried to ignore him as she lapped up more of Fanathor’s fantastic beverage with her modified tongue. The faculty lounge was truly the bestest—ahem, best—place within the Academy. Not only was it one of the few locations where young elves were unwelcome, which made it about eight hundred percent quieter, but the great and severely underpaid Fanathor was there to cook or mix pretty much anything any of the Academy’s instructors and researchers desired.

Seriously, her drink was so good! The man deserved his weight in tasty treats. Or diamonds. Whichever he preferred.

“Anyone? If it doesn’t belong to anybody, maybe I should get the help to cook it up for a meal!” The loud elf seemed to find himself very witty, given the abrasive laughter that followed his words. Why were so many rude people convinced that their obnoxiousness was high comedy?

Clover turned her head to keep her sigh out of her tasty drink before she activated [Change, Iteratively!]. Seconds later—long before the rude man stopped laughing at his own meanness—her side split open as a multi-jointed human arm emerged from within. She even covered it in mucus as it emerged, to keep it from getting dirty. Because if there was one thing that bodies were very good at, it was producing sensible mucus. Her temporary limb extended until it held her faculty ID up to the no-longer-laughing elf’s face.

Clover. Species Variable. Researcher – Biomancy. It even said it in both Creation and High Elvish!

“M…my apologies.” The suddenly pale man stammered, before he hurriedly backed away.

Clover shrugged inwardly as she retracted and dispersed her limb and returned her ID to the hollow space she’d created in her dewlap, funneling the mucus into her intestines. Sudden paleness was a worrying symptom that had quite a number of potential causes, but she wasn’t about to waste time on trying to tell someone rude to visit a [Healer]. She’d learned that lesson already.

Some people just couldn’t be saved from their own poor decisions! At least not without force, and Clover only had a few minutes left to relax before her appointment with Mesti.

Ugh. Nothing like a fouled mood to ruin a delicious treat.

With regret in her heart, Clover took one final chomp out of the celery garnish before she hopped off the table to begin the journey to her office. She needed to change before she ventured to the training center anyway.

Mesti—Messtiana to the students that took her courses—was generally considered to be a highly unapproachable woman. She was taciturn and had something of a short temper. Her reputation was severe enough that every single young mind in the Academy gossiped about just how cruel she could be.

Ridiculous, of course. The woman was perfectly kind!

“Clover. You’re late.” Mesti snapped, the very moment Clover opened the door.

Well, she was kinder than her reputation suggested.

I am not! There are still three minutes until our appointment. Clover signed her objection to the accusation as she approached the frowning elf with the enticingly hay-colored hair.

Of course, biting her hair was a terrible idea from every conceivable angle. And the inconceivable ones too, for that matter.

“This training center lives and runs on that clock, and according to it, you are late. Four laps of the main gym—in front of the students! Go!” Mesti barked her orders without a shred of remorse or mercy.

Clover clenched her fists, double-checked that her human chest was sufficiently contained for running, and set off at a sustainable pace toward the gymnasium. The great thing about being mute was that she didn’t have to worry about mumbling too loudly. She just screamed her frustrations inside her own head and kept her fists balled so she didn’t accidentally sign any of her less-than-sweet thoughts. The seventeen previous incidents were all the mortification she cared to endure!

Four laps wasn’t actually too bad, as far as punishments went. Sure, the main gym was probably the largest single indoor space in the Academy, but even with Clover’s atrocious class qualities, she was still a level 619 [Biomancer]. She could endure running.

The bigger issue was her speed was well below elven standards, and young minds could be quite mean-spirited. Especially since, as a researcher, not a single elf among them knew or respected her. Rude! So what if it took her a quarter of an hour to run the laps and every last elf in the gym was capable of doing it faster? Clover was diligent, which was more than she could say for quite a few of them! Hmph!

“Terrible, but you are thirty-two seconds faster than you were last week.” Mesti offered her a crystalline bottle of water as she returned to the entryway.

Gratitude. A simple gesture, and probably the one that Clover signed more than any other.

Mesti knew better than most that hydration was important. Because, on top of the courses that she taught by day, she was also the faculty representative for the Academy’s mock combat league and formal dueling club. It gave her a strange fascination with the art of combat—mostly because death shouldn’t happen in a competition—and quite a bit of expertise.

Which was why Clover was very grateful that the woman was willing to take time out of her schedule to help her twice a week. Two out of Clover’s three classes were combat-focused, and they were lagging behind severely with her human prioritizing her own safety above a constant stream of experience.

Also, she was sick of dealing with red and orange class qualities just because Ranthia earned the dragon’s share of their experience! She needed to do better! Her contributions to the battle against the wyvern were the only reason that her qualities weren’t the palest of red—the System just wasn’t impressed by someone that was carried by their Bond’s progress.

“Any chance your owner’ll be coming around soon?” Mesti asked, feigning disinterest.

As grateful as Clover was, she still wasn’t about to allow Ranthia to visit her again for the foreseeable future. Her trainer was addicted to her own romanticized ideals for fighting and was far too eager to fight her human—she just didn’t get that Ranthia was death!

Not owner. Bond. She’s on a trip away from the Tympestshard Council. Clover slackened the muscles on her face to keep her relief from showing while she shared the news from the last letter.

“Ah well, hopefully soon. Knives are such a stupid weapon, and I can’t wait for the chance to prove it. Now! I’ll be running you through one of the training programs I’ve been putting together for the mid-tier fighters. Figure if it won’t kill you, it’s safe enough for them. You limber and good, or do we need to go through some of the stretches first?” The elf flexed her muscles as she demonstrated one of the stretch poses, as if Clover had somehow forgotten.

Ready! Clover offered a single-gesture response before she began to jog toward one of the stairwells.

The concerns about anyone dying were absurd, of course. The training programs were mostly just Mirages, and even with the training center’s robust enchantments and the vast fortune in charged gems that supported it, there was only so much that Mesti could do to make them dangerous.

Still, every lesson and challenge helped! Especially since every training session ended with a spar against Mesti herself. And at level 1003, armed with Mantle [Warrior], Gravity [Warrior], and Mirage [Mage] classes, she was probably the best source of experience and hard-won lessons that Clover could possibly get her paws on!

If she wanted to be death—if she wanted to keep up with Ranthia—she needed to do better. She had to pull her own weight. Biomancy was the key to making herself more than what Xaoc and the other gods had made her, but she couldn’t live with horrible classes forever.

She had to excel in more ways than just one!

While Mesti settled into position and began interfacing her Skills with the enchantments, Clover shimmied her way out of her shorts and training top, folding them and setting them aside. It was both annoying and unfortunate that no one had successfully answered her posted request for clothing that worked with her extreme form changes. In fact, the only student [Enchanter] that had even contacted her about it had assumed that her specifications were a joke. In what universe was an impractically bulky robe that could shrink or expand by up to ten percent an acceptable substitute?!

Her backup plan was to give her human skin a dense covering of practical fur, but she was still trying to figure out why human skin found a dense covering of practical fur to be itchy. Human skin was so silly in so many ways.

Once Mesti was ready, the lighting dimmed and metal walls slowly rose out of the floor to form a maze. There were only eight different configurations for the training grounds, but Clover would have to take several turns before she could identify which version she faced. She had memorized all eight layouts, courtesy of [No Forgets!], not that she was stupid enough to brag about it to Mesti. Challenges were good. Being hopelessly lost for half an hour was not—she had so many other things to do!

A chime signaled the beginning of the exercise, but Clover found herself rooted in place. The determination in her heart was one thing, but her curse-sharpened instincts were another. The maze promised both pain and scary surprises—and that knowledge coupled with the uncertainty of what she would face with Mesti’s newest challenge was powerful fuel for her fear.

To counteract one’s fear, one needed to steel her will and use reason. That was, of course, assuming Clover had to do it the stupid ‘right’ way. But she was a [Biomancer]. She had a better way.

She manually activated her adrenal glands and positively flooded her body with adrenaline until remaining in place became utterly impossible. Then, once her body began to move, she rapidly converted the mess of adrenaline into fuel for her muscles while she gave her brain a little dopamine as a treat.

Why use reason to fight against White Dove’s curse when she could weaponize her own body and instincts against it? Sometimes fighting smarter required her to stop thinking!

“So, how was it?” Mesti approached Clover with a towel and a bottle of water.

Clover was still on her knees, panting—the human tongue was far too small for a proper pant—so the water was very welcome. The question, less so.

The giant snake looked horrible. You had the anatomy wrong; it wouldn’t need to bend its body into such an exaggerated shape just to slither. The other monsters looked better, but what was the weird mass of tendrils near the exit supposed to be? Clover still forced herself to sign a response before she took a careful sip of the water.

She had learned that she couldn’t chug a bottle after pushing herself. It just wouldn’t stay put.

“Terrifying.” Mesti answered confidently.

Meh, Clover gave it a solid four out of eight in terms of terrifying. Though few things could compare to an oversized wolf that was covered in stale wounds that had the blood of her siblings dripping from its teeth.

Less nightmarish thoughts!

Overall, the training program was a bit more demanding than the previous, but there was still no true peril. Failure was penalized with mere pain. But Clover was a clever bunny—her second class said so!—and she had figured out a way to increase the challenge for herself weeks ago: she kept her human form while she ran through the course. She granted herself only three augmentations from Biomancy per course and awarded herself bonus points if she had any augmentation uses left at the end.

Not that she’d earned any bonus points. Again.

Once Clover was hydrated and recovered, she joined Mesti for a few stretches and basic hand-to-hand forms while her trainer warmed herself up for their spar. It was hardly necessary for Clover—she could make herself limber with a few mana—but it seemed like the polite thing to do. If nothing else, she got a little smile out of the woman every time she joined in.

And soon thereafter, they took their places for the sparring match.

Mesti often cycled through different blunted weapons whenever they fought, but Clover was not looking forward to finding out just how much the hammer-like weapon she chose would hurt. The blunted axe from the previous week had been bad enough! Still, she pre-dosed herself with adrenaline and dopamine to keep her fears at bay and reminded herself that Mesti would never seriously hurt her.

On purpose.

Well, at least there was a high-level [Healer] stationed in the training center at all times.

There was no formal announcement to begin their duel. Mesti just lashed out with a highly telegraphed attack with her hammer, forcing Clover to dodge. Except the elf reversed the momentum of her heavy weapon at the last second, rediverting it toward Clover’s shoulder!

Sparks flew as elven steel met iteration thirty-seven of Clover’s recreated wyvern scales.

Which did absolutely nothing for the shock that travelled through her muscles and into her bones! Still, she managed to snap a kick at her opponent to force her back.

When Mesti swung her hammer again, Clover was ready—she shed mass as rapidly as her body could endure the change and returned herself to her preferred bunny form. As light as she was, it was trivial to seize the hammer in her tentacles and pull herself out of its path.

Well, okay, maybe not exactly her preferred bunny form. But what was a girl without her decorative flourishes?

Trying to contest Mesti in strength was impossible. Even if Clover pushed herself to her upper limits in both size and mass, the higher level elf was far too powerful. Instead, Clover launched herself from the hammer toward Mesti’s face as she covered herself in sharp spines.

She lacked the momentum and power to punch through elven skin, but who could possibly stand their ground against an adorable mass of spikes destined to connect with their eyes?

Mesti. That was who.

Clover’s world spun in uncomfortable ways as the woman’s fist slammed into her side. The impact hadn’t been too bad—the shattered spikes saved her from broken bones—but Clover was still forced to rely on [Nerves of Metal!] and [Spite Through It!] to recover. The moment she hit the ground, she activated [Hop of Darkness!] to try to reposition herself, but Mesti was just too fast. Her hammer smashed into the ground, narrowly missing Clover’s foreleg.

Trying to use [Sneaks!] wasn’t about to work, so she instead activated [Sudden Movement!] coupled with [Kicker!] to launch herself off the ground before she once again activated [Change, Iteratively!].

A smaller form would have been nice, for the surprise value, but she still wasn’t sure what would happen if she shrank her brain below that of her bunny form. [Companion Bond of Clover and Ranthia!] made her so much smarter than she should have been with that familiar brain, but she absolutely didn’t want to end up stuck forever as a lesser animal just because she pushed her limits too far and forgot important things!

Instead, Clover went human again. Biomancy wasn’t quite an instant process, at least not at her tier, yet she had an advantage that no one else did—Xaoc decreed that her own System would always consider her the bunny that she truly was. So, no matter how much mass she added, it was just as fast and mana-efficient as if she was manipulating her bunny-self!

Three-quarters of the way through her transformation, Mesti grabbed her left arm, and Clover just let her have it. She detached the limb like a lizard shedding its tail and had [Change, Iteratively!] replace it once she finished shifting the rest of her body.

“I told you to stop doing that!” Mesti shuddered as she tossed the wayward arm aside.

Clover wasn’t about to let herself get distracted with the hand signs to respond. Nor was she about to let the elf successfully grapple her ever again.

Replacing a detached limb cost simple mana. Recovering from trauma took time. And mana was far more ample than time, even for an immortal!

Once again, Mesti came at her, moving just a bit faster. She always held back—considerably, even—during their sparring matches. Because otherwise they’d be over before Clover knew what was happening. But she wasn’t exactly the best at holding back, especially not when she started getting annoyed.

And Clover was very good at being annoying!

In a good way! Hopefully.

Proto-wyvern scales covered her arms as she met the elf’s charge. The version thirty-seven scales still weren’t quite as resilient as they should have been, but they outclassed the other options that Clover had in her ever-expanding arsenal. Before her opponent could swing her bulky weapon again, Clover activated [Death Claws!] as a dark spike emerged from her palm, thrusting into Mesti’s personal space.

Technically, a spike wasn’t a claw—and if she wanted to be really specific, it was actually more of an ossified tongue covered in carapace—but she was using it kind of like a claw, and the System was pretty good at doing what she expected it to do, even if that wasn’t what other people expected it to do.

Dark energy or not, Mesti simply grabbed the spike and turned her wrist, snapping it off.

Still, it did what Clover wanted it to do: it bought her the precious moment or three she needed to send a powerful, Skill-enhanced kick into the elf’s stomach.

Not that Mesti even flinched. Instead, she grabbed Clover’s leg and slammed her into the ground before she could do anything to stop it.

“Good, you’re getting more aggressive. Let’s try that again.” Mesti was smiling down at her, before Clover even opened her eyes.

Honestly, she could have given her a second or eight to unscramble her poor brain!

No matter how many times she remade her flesh and used [Full Assessment!] to verify that her skeleton was just fine, Clover still felt bruised. Which was extremely rude and unfair of the world—she was a [Biomancer], she should be above such mundane soreness!

Still, as she proudly walked—bad leg, no limping!—her way out of the training center after getting dressed again, she was quite pleased with the results.

[*tick* You did so good, Clover! [Uncatchable & Mighty!] reached level 503! +6 Strength, +3 Dexterity, +3 Vitality, +7 Speed, +8 Mana, +8 Mana Regeneration, +6 Magic Power, +6 Magic Control from this class, +1 Strength and +1 Speed for being a fluffy bunny, along with +1 Mana from your element!]

[*tock* [The Dark Power of Death!] reached level 503 too!]

[*tick* You did so good, Clover! [Clever Bunny!] went from 519 all the way to level 521! +2 Free Stats, +6 Strength, +6 Dexterity, +8 Vitality, +5 Speed, +13 Mana, +13 Mana Regeneration, +6 Magic Power, +4 Magic Control from this class, +1 Strength and +1 Speed for being a fluffy bunny, along with +1 Magic Power from your element!]

[*tock* [Nerves of Metal!] reached level 521 too!]

[*ticktock* [Dark Affinity] reached 479, [Death Claws!] 315, [Shifty Evader!] 404, [Kick of Death!] 288, [Metal Affinity] 515, [Added Awareness!] 506, [Spite Through It!] 487, [Boundless Energy!] 495, [Sudden Movement!] 500, [Tremorsense!] 397, [Fights Good!] 481, [More Wary!] 602, and [Jumpier!] 619! Breakdown of level increases per Skill available. Expand?]

Three levels, all from her own hard work! …Hopefully. It wasn’t like the System would have told her if Ranthia had happened to fight or kill something while she was training. It was unhelpful that way. Still, she chose to believe it was her own hard work!

She was done letting Ranthia carry her. She would learn to truly fight with the best of them. And then she’d get a Spatial class that actually suited her and wasn’t a juvenile bunny’s desperate wish to never face danger again. Then someday, once she became a [Biomancer] that was second only to Teacher himself, she would rejoin her human.

And side-by-side they would bring death to whatever threats they faced. Together!

[Name: Clover]

[Species: Rabbit (Giant Field)]

[Age: 82]

[Mana: 57230/502840]

[Mana Regen Rate: 312436]

[Stats:]

[Free Stats: 0]

[Strength: 5600]

[Dexterity: 4796]

[Vitality: 8094]

[Speed: 6258]

[Mana: 50284]

[Mana Regeneration: 35017]

[Magic Power: 41588]

[Magic Control: 28424]

[Class 1: [Uncatchable & Mighty! – Dark (503)]]

[Dark Affinity: 479]

[Death Claws!: 315]

[Shifty Evader!: 404]

[Hop of Darkness!: 490]

[Sneaks!: 252]

[The Dark Power of Death!: 503]

[Kick of Death!: 288]

[Creature of the Night!: 114]

[Class 2: [Clever Bunny! – Metal (521)]]

[Metal Affinity: 515]

[Nerves of Metal!: 521]

[Added Awareness!: 506]

[Spite Through It!: 487]

[Boundless Energy!: 495]

[Sudden Movement!: 500]

[Tremorsense!: 397]

[True Stillness!: 104]

[Class 3: [Bioneer! – Forest (619)]]

[Forest Authority: 619]

[Change, Iteratively!: 619]

[Biomancer’s Planning!: 619]

[Full Assessment!: 619]

[Nervous System Fixer!: 584]

[Permanent Changes!: 619]

[A True Scholar!: 619]

[Anatomical Adaptation!: 619]

[General Skills:]

[Wise Ears!: 588]

[Kicker!: 619]

[Companion Bond of Clover and Ranthia!: 619]

[Fights Good!: 481]

[No Forgets!: 619]

[More Wary!: 602]

[Jumpier!: 619]

[Time!: 573]

[Other:]

{Blessing of the Bunny}

Everyone seemed to be operating under the incredibly mistaken impression that Lumornor should have been in a foul mood. He had hoped that no one would be aware that he had quite specifically timed the request for the Biomancy research tower’s construction until the Academy’s usual construction crews were distracted with the absurd sporting venue, true, but it was somewhat tedious to face a constant stream of apologies for being provided exactly the opportunity that he desired.

Of course his research tower was behind schedule—the crew that he selected were working with plans that were far more elaborate than those that were officially approved. The proper people within the Academy knew exactly what they were funding, naturally, but most of the mid-level office dwellers had no idea. They simply knew that it was behind schedule and that Lumornor was a very busy man that had better things to do with his invaluable time than tolerate the failures of lesser people.

He was so close to launching the next stage of his ambitions that his rightful place among the gods felt as though it was almost within his grasp. The Academy’s true leadership was onboard with his plans. He had a budget that was almost within his expectations, and the research tower would be completed within sixteen days. Truly, things were going quite well.

And even better, Evanera had already sent word from Remus: the rumors were true. Humans actually sold their own as though they were simple beasts. Selling them to a foreign power was technically against their so-called empire’s laws, but there was one commonality to mortals that remained eternally true. There were always people willing to look the other way in exchange for petty wealth. Life in Remus sold for little, and the officials hardly required much more than that to become complicit.

There were logistics for shipment that needed to be figured out, but it was hardly the time to do so. Besides, he had an appointment with one of his best students to keep.

Clover, it is good to see you. May I assume that your life within the Academy remains satisfactory? He offered the dark-skinned woman a series of polite hand signs as she approached—exactly on time. He liked that about her, even if he would have preferred to see her making use of her latest hybridized form.

The fact that she was not suggested that it fared no better than the previous seven iterations, and that was a truly frustrating setback.

Of course, thank you. The former rabbit signed in return.

She was once his least likely pupil, yet she had truly become one of his most valued assets over the years. She seemed to embrace her role as a [Biomancer] in ways that perhaps only Evanera—and himself, of course—could truly claim to match. She was still prone to careless mistakes, but even those were increasingly minor.

Come. Construction is not yet finished, but the forewoman informed me that the floor I intend to grant to you was completed yesterday. Lumornor turned to stroll toward the unfinished tower, trusting Clover to follow.

Once it was complete, his research tower would have thirty-two floors. The bottom sixteen would serve as lab space and lecture areas for the students of Biomancy within the Academy. His own office and formal research space stood above those floors, along with the concealed Gravity lift to the underground research space. The uppermost floors were to be entrusted to his apprentices that provided useful research, yet were philosophically or emotionally ill-suited to assist him with his true work.

Believers and dreamers had their place. It just wasn’t always where they would have been most useful. And, alas, Clover was undeniably one of them. Despite his subtle efforts, she retained her soft heart. Also, due to the nature of her Bond, she was unlikely to be willing to allow human subjects to come to harm.

It was hardly as if Lumornor wished to harm any research subject. But progress often demanded undesirable losses.

His apprentices that shared his beliefs would, as per the official records, be sent with Relvarith to the hazardous research center built at the center of an inhospitably sulfuric lake. And in truth several of them would be—a wise elf never placed all of his hopes on a single facility. It was all too easy to imagine a singular misfortune bringing about decades, possibly even centuries of setbacks.

Better for all records and all research to be duplicated across two facilities separated by reasonably significant distance.

The primary Gravity lift would be one of the final enchantments laid, once the tower was complete, which forced them to take the stairs until they reached the intended floor.

How many of us will be sharing this floor? Clover signed a question as she wandered the space. There were two identically sized sections isolated by interior walls, with the rest left open, aside from a small space reserved for guests that arrived via the stairs or Gravity lift to await admission.

“One. I made no mistake when I signed my intention to grant you this floor.” Lumornor vocalized his answer in an effort to spare himself from having to confirm a second time.

It’s so big! Clover signed back, staring at him.

That was the problem with her nonverbal communication medium—he had no idea if she was excited or if she was protesting his generosity.

“The enclosed areas are yours to do with as you see fit. I would recommend having a place for small meetings in one of them. Beyond that, use them for research you wish to keep to yourself, to keep your own library of reference material at hand, or use it for living space if you do not wish to commute from your official accommodations. I will see to it that you have any permission that you might require. Do bear in mind that any visitor is likely to be able to peruse your research in the open areas.” Lumornor offered her a thin smile when she looked his way.

Anything else I should know? She truly had a gift for clever questions. Some might see them as simplistic, but there was a considerable amout of insight behind them.

“The topmost floor will be the animal pens. You may keep active research specimens within your own space, but anything that you are not using should be returned there. Your friend, Nyria, will be sharing the floor below this one with Vivincea. And speaking of him, if neither I nor Evanera have Vivincea occupied with any of our research, do feel free to borrow him whenever you need assistance.

“I had intended to house a full library of research material on-site, but the Academy’s librarians wield an incredible amount of power. We may maintain our own repositories, but any communal research materials must be housed within the primary library on campus. An unfortunate absurdity.” Lumornor rewarded her with both the salient details and a bit of informal complaining.

Most people found such banalities to be a sign of closeness.

When can we start using the tower? Clover asked another question once she finished exploring the space.

“I hesitate to bring anything sensitive or fragile into the tower until construction is complete, just to prevent mishaps. The workers should be done within sixteen days, though it would be helpful if you could have a list of everything you need within eight. And do let me know if you require any assistance to migrate your ongoing research here—we have students for such labors.” His words were not intended as a joke, yet Clover laughed soundlessly before she nodded.

And with that, they journeyed back downstairs and outside, dodging around the [Laborers] and other workers as they went. Originally, he had intended to question her about the status of her hybridized rabbit and human form experiments, but he decided to part ways with her for the day on a lark. She worked better without undue pressure, and his own advice continued to prove to be less useful than he had expected.

Until his own experiments were underway, there was a chance that Clover was a better authority on elvenoid hybridization than he was. Sometimes, the best thing that he could do for the sake of progress was to step back and trust in others. That was what it meant to collaborate with bright minds.

Besides, Relvarith had returned, and he was somewhat impatient to know how the experiments that he released into the wild were going. An unfortunate number of half-baked academics and Hunters had taken an interest in the visibly abnormal creatures that he had released into several environments, but enough should have escaped capture to give them an early look at how Biomancy-made alterations bred forward.

And every data point that he obtained was another step toward his true ambition.