Peter, the gecko-kin and the youngest of the druid acolytes, watched the dungeon entrance with interest. It had taken him nearly a seven hours to sneak this close through the swamp. He had disguised himself in a lump of mud and crawled ever so slowly this deep all on his own. The curiosity had been gnawing at him. He wanted to know just what the true entrance to the dungeon would be.

  Before him sat little more than a simple gazebo made of marble sitting upon a platform raised well above the water line. There was even a suspended bridge leading to the nearest patch of solid ground. In the center was a stairwell that spiraled down into the depths. Peter knew this was the intended entrance, but he had found several others used by the ants to scurry about and collect plant matter. He even recognized the ants as leaf cutters. Despite the dangers that most dungeon ants posed, he liked ants. Specifically, Peter liked to eat them.

  He was just contemplating how to capture and cook one up for dinner when something unexpected happened.

  There was a burbling sound, and from the swamp water emerged a baby lesser hydra. Peter could not believe his eyes. This was great! Lesser hydra were also safe to eat. There went his worries about food variety. But Peter was not ready for what happened next.

  A shimmer rippled over the hide of the hydra as a modifier was applied to it. Quickly inspecting it, Peter’s jaw dropped.

  Brood-mother.

  Peter did not think he could be any more excited. All-you-can-eat meat was just over the horizon.

  Then the mana in the area surged.

  Peter’s pupils narrowed as the torrent of mana overwhelmed his senses. A shell of pure mana encased the hydra in a scaly, egg-like material, and Peter’s heart nearly stopped.

  ‘How lucky am I?’ Peter thought to himself. ‘To witness a mob ascend to boss?’

  His eyes sparkled with intrigue as the shell fully enveloped the hydra.

  Then the egg began to expand, pulsing energy pulsing within like a heartbeat—and the land reciprocated. The return pulse Peter felt from the swamp was so powerful that his own heart began to beat in time with the egg and the land.

  Thump-thump.

  All three as one.

  Peter could feel something growing in him as the power contained within the egg skyrocketed.

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  Peter wanted to cry out in glee and thank whomever had bestowed this blessing upon him. He could feel his class growing, evolving. He wanted to grab the others and share this experience with them—but his body was stuck fast as he grew in time with the egg. Somehow, he had become part of the process.

  And then the egg cracked.

  Not a small fracture, but a jagged fissure. Blood poured from the split in the now-massive egg. It was larger than the surrounding trees. The blood mingled with water and dirt, and the swamp sang. There was so much vitality in that fluid that the land itself seemed to rejoice, its song echoing through Peter’s bones.

  That was when the fissure exploded outward as the beast within burst free.

  What had once been a three-headed lesser hydra was now a five-headed behemoth. Standing easily forty feet tall, her bulk spread far wider than her height as the new brood-mother boss smashed her way free of the shattered shell. After drawing in a deep breath, she unleashed a thunderous birth cry for the world to bear witness to her ascension. Then she settled herself deeper into the mire near the dungeon entrance. Once settled her heads began tearing at the surrounding trees. Not in violence, but to create a nest. She was a brood-mother after all and she would need somewhere to keep her brood.

  It was at that moment that Peter felt a change within himself.

  His class had evolved.

  He was no longer a druid acolyte.

  He was now a Vitalmire Druid.

  The land had accepted him.

  Peter shed a single tear of joy as he felt his connection to the swamp deepen and swell.

  He took a single deep breath to center himself, taking in the sweet scent of the boss and the swamp around him. He then turned his attention back to the hydra and inspected her one last time. She now bore a name, as any proper boss should.

  Elizabeth, Queen of the Vitalmire.

  That was all Peter needed to see before he began his slow retreat back through the swamp.

  With his class upgraded, he was able to make the journey out in half the time it had taken him to sneak in. After hours of barely containing himself, he finally belted out his own cry of victory.

  “Is everything all right, Acolyte Peter?” Cooper’s voice rumbled suddenly beside him.

  “I am no longer a mere acolyte!” Peter proclaimed as he basked in the sunlight, the drying mud slowly sloughing off his scales. “I am now a Vitalmire Druid!”

  “And how did this come to pass?” Cooper asked calmly, though there was a subtle stillness to him, as if the land itself were listening.

  “I witnessed the birth of a boss mob,” Peter explained, finally able to share what he had seen. “A lesser hydra—five heads, with the brood-mother modifier.”

  “Well,” Cooper nodded after a brief pause, “that sorts out any concerns regarding meat. It also means the dungeon is leaning more physical rather than magical.”

  “My thoughts exactly. And she was named right in front of me. Evolved before my eyes. The swamp was singing during her birth. Elizabeth, Queen of the Vitalmire.”

  “Vitalmire?” Cooper asked, voice thoughtful. “So that is the name of the swamp now?”

  “Indeed!” Peter cheered.

  “We should report this at once,” Cooper said. “The foreman will want to organize hunting teams. Even a single neck from that hydra would be valuable, and her leather could eventually pay for this entire expedition if harvested correctly. The meat alone will do wonders for morale.”

  “And maybe a few grilled ants on the side?” Peter asked hopefully.

  Cooper sighed as he turned back toward the rapidly growing town. “Only you would want to eat those damned ants.”

  Peter followed after him, grinning all the way.