Titanion Realm, Stoneheart City.

Orion’s eyes snapped open. A wave of raw power, a palpable pressure, radiated from him, startling Elara, who was gently stroking the shell of a World Dragon egg.

"Daddy, you scared me!" the little girl chirped, patting her chest with a tiny hand before her expression shifted to one of pure curiosity.

The residual intensity of his breakthrough receded. Orion reined in the wild exhilaration bubbling within him and reached out, ruffling Elara’s hair.

"Sorry, kiddo. Didn’t mean to frighten you."

"You didn’t!" she insisted, though he’d clearly seen the flicker of primal fear in her eyes—the instinctual reaction of any being, no matter how special, in the face of overwhelming power.

"How much longer for your eggs?" Orion asked, glancing at the two colossal eggs that dominated the chamber. Elara came here every day, patiently channeling her own unique energy into them.

At first, Orion had assumed the incubation period for the World Dragons was fixed. But he’d soon realized that Elara’s daily infusions were shortening the time. Her energy was a strange and wonderful thing, without a fixed element, infinitely adaptable. It could be whatever she willed it to be. The phenomenon was a source of constant amazement and no small amount of envy for Orion. The natural talent of a World Spirit, he mused. It was the only explanation that made sense of the impossible things he saw her do.

"I don’t know!" Elara said with a shrug. "But it shouldn’t be too long now! I have to go, Daddy. My little brother should be awake from his nap!"

She gave her favorite egg one last pat, and with a cheerful smile, vanished in a silent shimmer of displaced air.

Orion stared at the empty space for a moment before his gaze returned to the eggs. He closed his eyes again, but this time, his focus turned inward. His consciousness sank into his own data stream, to the new entry that had jolted him from his meditative slumber.

[Divine Art: Psionic Morph - Roar of Resolve]

Description: A power that makes thought reality. Your belief is the architect of existence. It allows the user to command their emotions and thoughts, forcing the world to resonate with their will.

Effect 1: Psionic Sense. Perceive the existence and intent of surrounding creatures by sensing their emotional and mental fluctuations. Range and precision are dependent on the user’s psionic strength.

Effect 2: Psionic Roar. Unleash a concussive blast of raw emotion and willpower, capable of stunning or disorienting targets.

Effect 3: Psionic Morph. Manifest the user’s will into a physical form.

Note:

Manifested Form 1: Roc. Your mind takes the form of a Roc, granting you its combat abilities.

It was a Divine Art. His first. And a rare psionic one at that. Outside of his Mind Pact ability, it was the first purely mental skill he had ever acquired, a gift from the titan god who had guided him.

Compared to the brutish Devouring Beast he could summon with the Scroll of the Devouring Avatar, the Roc was on an entirely different plane of existence. It was this very power that had allowed him to turn the tables in the bloodline space. Not that the Devouring Beast was useless; it still had its purpose.

Will... is the storm... the blade...

Orion sank deeper into thought, savoring the aftertaste of this newfound power like a connoisseur appreciating a fine vintage.

***

Godforsaken Land, Cretaceous World.

Sunlight streamed through the canopy of massive, palm-like trees, casting dappled shadows on the jungle floor. Within the shade of the sprawling ferns, a colossal creature stirred, and a pair of yellow, reptilian eyes blinked open.

Before it could let out a roar, a figure scrambled deftly onto its back, slamming a heavy taming collar onto the base of its skull.

The Apex Phantom Spinosaurus, which had been thrashing wildly, suddenly went still. Its labored breathing evened out, its struggles ceasing. A moment later, it rose to its full, terrifying height and stalked out of the shadows.

ROAR!

The shockwave of its cry flattened the surrounding vegetation. Smaller reptiles and birds scattered in a panic.

"Whoa... Rolan, you actually did it!"

Slagor, Tarn, and Hammerhoof emerged from their positions, circling the now-docile beast. They had been hunting this single Apex predator for seven days, and today, their efforts had finally paid off.

"Heh, it was all thanks to you guys," Rolan said, hopping down from the Spinosaurus’s back. He was buzzing with excitement at having captured such a powerful mount, but he was also sheepish. They had agreed to take turns trying to subdue it, and he felt a pang of guilt that he was the one who had succeeded.

"Don’t be humble, kid," Tarn said, clapping him on the shoulder. "We all had our shot these last few days and failed. This one was always meant to be yours." There was a flicker of envy in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by genuine pride. Still, it never felt great to be outdone by the rookie.

"With this Phantom Spinosaurus, I can help you guys scout for more targets," Rolan offered, eager to contribute.

Tarn’s own Bone Python had been killed in the last major battle, leaving him without a mount.

"I got a tip from the Sentinel Corps," Hammerhoof chimed in, his eyes glued to the Spinosaurus. Its black scales seemed to drink the light, making it nearly invisible in the shadows. "They spotted an Alpha Volt-plate Stegosaurus to the northwest. Think you can help me bag it?"

A sharp caw echoed from above. Arden circled overhead on his Storm Vulture before descending to join them.

"Heh. If it weren’t for my eyes, we’d never have been able to keep track of this monster," Arden said, landing nearby. "With beasts like this hiding in the jungle, the regular hunting parties from the Horde are going to have a rough time." He’d grown close to the others after the intensity of their shared battles.

"Alright, you old buzzard," Slagor said, walking over. He and Arden went way back. "First, we help Hammerhoof get his Stegosaurus. Then, you’re helping me and Tarn track down some Rimewing Pterosaurs."

"The Rimewings won’t be easy," Arden warned. "They fly in flocks."

"Gotta be optimistic," Slagor boomed. "Like the Lord says, you make your own luck. All we can do is give it a shot!" He needed a flying mount, and the Rimewing’s frost affinity was a perfect match for his own abilities.

Tarn, a trident specialist like Orion, wanted a flying mount to revolutionize his fighting style, giving him a new dimension of attack from the air.

Arden grinned. "Alright then. Let’s get to work."