Elijah lay on the luxuriously soft bed, his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. He could feel everything around him, the radius of Soul of the Wild enveloping much of the hotel. Regrettably, that meant he was privy to what was happening in most of the rooms. Thankfully, the majority of the occupants were asleep, but there were a few night owls still up and about.

  He struggled to ignore them.

  Instead, his stomach twisted into knots as he considered the coming meeting. Even now, most of the world’s most powerful people had converged on New York – all at his beck and call. The notion of taking a leadership position among Earth’s elite wasn’t a new one. He’d flirted with it during the summit. But now, he’d fully stepped into that realm, embracing the responsibility in a way that would have once horrified him.

  Because, for better or worse, Elijah had never considered himself much of a leader. Certainly, he would take the lead if necessary. He’d done so more times than he could count, both before and after the World Tree had extended its branches into Earth. However, it was a rare event for him to do so before absolutely necessary. So, the question remained – was that the case in this situation? Had they reached the point where Elijah had no choice in the matter? Or was his embrace of that role emblematic of him turning a new leaf?

  He wasn’t sure.

  But the reality was that it didn’t matter. He’d made his bed, and now, he needed to lie in it. The only comfort – such that one existed – was that his reasoning remained just as pertinent now as it had been when he’d made his choice a few days before. The world needed him to take charge, to use his power to push the others to cooperate. Otherwise, they may as well accept the planet’s coming excisement.

  And if he couldn’t get them to work together, Elijah needed to seriously consider taking Kirlissa up on her offer. Because he refused to go down with the ship. If Earth’s fate was to be excised, he would ensure the survival of the people he cared about. And his own, though that was a lesser consideration.

  Those thoughts occupied his mind until he saw the first rays of dawn bypass the curtains and peek through the window. Once morning had fully arrived, he arose and took a few moments to stretch. It wasn’t particularly necessary, but the pseudo-yoga routine he’d learned from Nina helped him keep control of his body. And it came with a dose of nostalgia that he couldn’t deny.

  Like the memories from before the world’s transformation. Before the cancer. Back when his biggest issue had been a general apathy for the mundane parts of job. But he also remembered using those same routines to harness the lopsided attributes of his very first guardian form.

  It wasn’t a stretch to say that yoga – or at least his version of it – had saved his life.

  Did Elijah need it from a physical standpoint? Not anymore. But he felt he needed it for other reasons.

  Once he’d finished his routine, he took a few minutes to study his cultivation system. The tree imagery he’d used had continued to solidify, and every piece – from the trunk of his body to the branches of his soul – had begun to work together more efficiently than he could have imagined. He could sense that, if he pushed himself, he could activate spells faster and with a broader range of power than ever before.

  In short, while he’d passed the threshold necessary to reach the Lord level of cultivation, he was still settling into the newfound power. Seeing that, he couldn’t help but wonder what the future might hold. He’d barely tasted true power, and he definitely wanted more.

  After that cursory examination, he stepped into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen his reflection since his recent transformation, but he was still a little shocked at his appearance. He ran fingers along the emerald scales encircling his arms, tracing the outline until he reached his torso. There, they formed a pattern that reminded Elijah of a tiger’s stripes.

  Tactilely, the scales were mostly smooth. Almost like gemstones. But with their subtle ridges and malleable nature, they were obviously organic. They also extended down his legs, reaching points at his ankles.

  They weren’t all that different from before he’d reached the Lord stage of cultivation. Just a bit shinier, largely from the subtle ripples of ethera arcing through them. But his eyes – those had changed considerably. Before, they’d only glowed a bit. But now? They shimmered with the same emerald-like ethereal power as his scales.

  Of course, his musculature had been subtly enhanced as well, and his torso looked like it belonged to a professional athlete. One who took his training and diet incredibly seriously, too. The rest of his body followed suit.

  Thankfully, his face hadn’t changed much, though he did wonder if that was just because he didn’t want it to. After all, his humanoid form wasn’t his true shape. Not anymore. Holding it wasn’t difficult, and it felt almost like keeping good posture. But even that told him that taking on his dragon form was more about allowing it to happen than pushing it.

  Regardless, Elijah didn’t think that he’d get the results he wanted if he arrived at the meeting as a fifty-foot dragon. In fact, they’d probably attack, thinking he was some sort of invasive beast.

  Although, it did beg the question of Elijah’s true nature. Was he a dragon masquerading as a man? Or was he a man who could become a dragon? His instincts told him that the first scenario was more accurate, but he also felt it was far more complicated than those two questions implied.

  Pushing those existential thoughts away, he focused on the rest of his appearance. The haircut he’d gotten in Ironshore was nothing special. Just a normal trim, with the back and sides shorter than the top, with a bit of shaping for his wild beard. But he had to admit that he looked a lot more civilized now than he had after leaving the Broken Crown behind.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  In any case, he quickly showered – using his personal soap – then brushed his teeth. He still hadn’t remembered to buy non-expired toothpaste, but the old stuff still worked passably well. Besides, dental hygiene wasn’t really about preventing tooth decay anymore. Rather, he just wanted to ensure his breath was reasonably bearable.

  And for that, the expired stuff worked just fine.

  Then, he pulled his white suit from his Arcane Loop. Miraculously, it showed no signs of ill use, and there wasn’t a drop of blood remaining from his rampage through Bloodrock Bay. Elijah wasn’t certain if that was because of its grade or an ingrained trait, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

  The last thing he wanted was to get into the habit of destroying Hope’s gifts.

  Once he was dressed – including the leviathan skin shoes, which he still found incredibly confining – he gave his appearance one last check. And he had to admit that he cut quite a dashing figure. A bit eccentric, what with the dragon embroidery on his sleeves, but that would play into the mystique of his situation.

  If he’d arrived to the meeting wearing his normal attire, there was no way anyone would take him seriously. Not without a show of power, which he wanted to avoid if at all possible.

  They knew who he was, what he represented. And it was high time he stopped playing the disinterested fool and embraced his position in the world. Even if he loathed it.

  After straightening his tie one last time, he gathered the few items he’d removed from his Arcane Loop and headed downstairs.

  The suite he’d rented was at the top floor. The best they had to offer – because why not? He was rich. He was powerful. There was no reason he shouldn’t live in luxury.

  He took the elevator down to the lobby, where he was surprised to find a familiar face waiting for him.

  “Chester, right?” Elijah asked, pushing a smile to his face. He wasn’t unhappy to see the guild functionary, but he wasn’t particularly pleased that his arrival had been noted. Not that he’d hidden his entry into the city. He hadn’t. But even so, he’d hoped for a little more anonymity.

  It seemed that the guilds of New York ran a tighter ship than he’d given them credit for.

  The unremarkable man took Elijah’s extended hand, shaking it. Not too firm. Not limp, either. Just enough to show respect.

  “You remembered,” Chester said with a nod. “Most people don’t.”

  Elijah could understand that. Chester was not a notable person. From an appearance standpoint, he looked just like any other bland businessman. Black suit. White shirt. A face that nobody would remember. Even his spectacles contributed to the lost-in-a-crowd aura.

  But then Elijah noticed a thread of ethera. It was so thin that, even with his powerful senses, he could scarcely detect it. But he did sense it, and the second he did, he was reminded of his latest ability evolution:

  Or rather, the first line of its description.

  Clearly, Chester had a similar ability active, which would explain why, despite being well into ascendency, he didn’t seem remotely notable.

  “The meeting isn’t for a couple of hours,” Elijah said.

  “I am aware,” Chester stated. “But my job is to make your stay in our city as smooth as possible. I can’t do that from afar.”

  “Fair enough,” Elijah said. “Well, I was going to get some breakfast before we got started. You’re welcome to join me.”

  Chester agreed, probably because it would have been awkward to hang around without participating in the meal. What’s more, he was a font of information regarding the local restaurants, which was how they found their way to an upscale eatery a few blocks away.

  It was a little too high class for Elijah’s taste, with the servers wearing actual tuxedos. But Chester insisted that it was one of the best restaurants in the city, largely because it was operated by the highest-level Chef in the world.

  Allegedly.

  Elijah expected that the claim was more akin to those signs that proclaimed a diner had the best pie in the world. Not to be taken entirely at face value.

  “Le Matin d’Or,” Elijah said, reciting the restaurant’s name. “The Golden Morning?”

  Chester confirmed the translation, and to Elijah, it fit. The restaurant was located on a terrace overlooking the now-overgrown Central Park. The décor was understated but with a clear undercurrent of luxury and refinement. Elijah had eaten at a few five-star restaurants in his time, and Le Matin d’Or definitely had the same vibe.

  After they’d ordered, Chester explained that the chef – a man named Thibault Garnier – was actually quite young. He’d only just graduated from culinary school in Normandy before the world had changed. At first, he’d gained levels by preparing attribute-granting rations for the pre-cursors to the guilds, but when everything had stabilized, he’d opened his restaurant.

  “He employs four other high-level Chefs now,” Chester added.

  As it turned out, Garnier’s reputation was well-earned. The meal, which consisted of ethera-laced croissants, aurochs sausage, and crystallized oranges, was one of the best Elijah had ever eaten. However, in his humble opinion, it was inferior to the greasy fare offered at Mama Lou’s, though that could probably be chalked up to taste rather than objective quality.

  As he ate, he couldn’t help but wonder if Sue Anne might have reached a higher level than Garnier. Despite the difference in vibe, the meal offered by Le Matin d’Or was not any more magical than what he’d find at the diner in Ironshore. In fact, Elijah suspected that there were a half-dozen hometown restaurants that could rival Le Matin d’Or, at least in the realm of pure magic.

  In any case, the meal was more than acceptable, and Elijah’s only complaint was that there wasn’t more of it. Was that his newly increased appetite talking? Or was that just a well-known characteristic of upscale restaurants? Probably a little of both.

  However, Elijah couldn’t deny that the coffee was fantastic. Not as magical as his own, of course, but the taste was far more complex.

  Perhaps he needed to get in touch with Thibault Garnier’s coffee guy.

  Regardless, the meal definitely lived up to Chester’s praise, and they left the restaurant in good spirits. Outside, they were met by a black car that took them to Four Corners Plaza.

  It looked the same as it had the day before, with massive skyscrapers standing at all four corners. Smaller guild headquarters stretched between them, lining the square in ostentatious and clashing styles.

  Elijah ignored them.

  Instead, his focus remained on the building at the center. Or rather, on what lay within. Inside were the most powerful people in the world, and they’d all assembled at his word. Now, he just needed to get them to follow his lead. No small feat, but a worthwhile endeavor nonetheless.

  He glanced at Chester and said, “No pressure, right? It’s only the fate of the world. At least I wore my good shoes.”

  If you'd like to read more of Path of Dragons, we're almost two full books ahead (book 13 ends on the 14th) on Patreon. That's 165+ extra chapters, so a ton of extra content for those of you who can't wait to see what Elijah will get up to. Anyway - check it out .

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