Mangowo
patreon
Chapter 153: Sweet, Sweet Freedo—Oh Fuck!
🕑 Added 2025-05-17 00:30:04 +0000 UTCAhh, the moment I opened my eyes, I felt it.
This body of mine… this time, it was massive.
It felt weird. Almost too weird. Not just because of the size—though that was definitely new—but because of the shell surrounding me. A cocoon of turbulent air that wrapped around me like a solid storm.
The first thing I noticed was the darkness. Absolute. Nothing beyond the shell was visible. Just the howling void of storm and shadow pressing in.
Sure, my size felt strange, but not unfamiliar. This time, I was at least three times bigger than before—roughly the size of a large horse, previously. Now? Towering. I did a quick check:
Limbs—pillar-thick.
Talons—clicked. Razor-delight.
Tail—a battering ram with scales.
Wings—twitched instinctively, but bound by the shell. Still, the wingspan was immense—I felt it.
Neck—viper-graceful. Nowhere to stretch it here.
And the tentacles—ah. Anchor chains dipped in menace.
Yeah. I was absolutely not fitting into my old room anymore.
Guess it was time to break out, get to hiding again, and—hopefully—just once enjoy some peace without anyone trying to murder or detonate me. The storm shell radiated isolation. Even my air sense was dulled—limited only to the confines of this shell.
But before I did anything else...
“System! Bring your dusty arse here.”
A familiar panel blinked into place in front of me.
Mission Progress:
Study the Case – Absorb all the sordid little details. Who’s lying? Who’s worse? (Progress: 1/1)
Render a Ruling – Pass judgment that satisfies Xaleth. It all hinges on a single order. (Progress: 1/1)
Optional: Identify Hidden Threads – Notice anomalies or hidden truths for a bonus reward. (Progress: 0/?) (Incomplete)
Rewards:
Xaleth’s Spellbook
Bonus Rewards:
+1 Unique Species Skill available in Skill Shop
+10 to all stats
+100 Morphogen
+2 Skill Points
Huh. Still no clue what “hidden threads” I was supposed to notice. Something in that vision, probably—some secret buried in the metaphors. Well, it could stay buried. Curiosity gnawed, sure, but it was too late to chase it now.
Besides, the bonus rewards were looking juicy.
Hold up—what did it mean by additional species skill? And a unique one at that?
The last evolution's shop had been disappointing. Just one extra skill. Tail-constrict or tentacle-whip. Meh. But I had a feeling this time would be different. Bigger evolution, bigger pool. And if they were labeling it unique, I wasn’t going to be disappointed.
As for the spellbook... where was it?
I focused on the reward.
And immediately, I felt it—like a mental thread tugging at the edge of my mind. A pulse of understanding washed through me.
I had the book.
It was mine.
It just tugged at my consciousness, whispering “summon meeeee.” Bad idea. This claustrophobic eggshell was no place for spell arts and crafts. It could wait until I wasn’t wedged in like a canned dragon.
Later then. When I was safe. Anywhere but here.
I shifted focus to the second screen floating in the air.
Mission Progress:
Cleanse the Streets – Slay or capture the wraith-summoning necromancers. (Progress: 7/7)
Follow the Rot – Track the leader. (Progress: 1/1)
Save the City – You failed to stop the elven commander, and he unleashed a beast that should’ve detonated and leveled everything around you. You stopped it anyway. (Progress: 1/1)
Kill/Capture the Elven Commander (Progress: 0/1)
…Wait.
The quest was still ongoing?
I thought it would disappear once I averted the middle district’s apocalyptic meltdown. Technically, I failed—didn’t stop the plan in time. But I also succeeded—prevented the destruction anyway.
I leaned in mentally, scanning the quest panel again.
Sure enough, something had changed.
PENALTY: None.
The looming punishment—gone.
Replaced with silence. A blank line.
Guess the system didn’t know what to make of it either. I’d screwed up the intended outcome, but still dragged the city back from the brink. That... kind of summed up my entire existence, didn’t it?
Still, one task remained.
Kill or Capture the Elven Commander.
That preening, bone-bedazzled twiglord wasn’t on my immediate radar. But mark my words—he’d get a front-row seat to my special brand of hospitality.
Eventually.
I’d peel his hide like a overripe fruit. Lace his morning tea with acid ants. Let them nibble a path from his gullet to his gallbladder. Mail his kneecaps to his childhood teddy bear.
The thought pulled a deep, low chuckle from somewhere in the dark corners of my mind.
Mess with the dragon, get the pyrotechnics. Patience, though. Karma’s a sniper, not a shotgun. He’d waltz into my crosshairs eventually. Maybe with a soliloquy about destiny. Adorable.
But that was a someday problem. For now, I dismissed the quest screen. Elf hunting wasn’t on today’s docket. Unless one materialized mid-swing, grinning like a lobotomized goblin.
Right now?
I wanted to see what I got out of all this.
“System—stats. Show me the loot.”
Name: Jade
Level: 1
Species: Quantum Arbiter (Draconis) (V)
Alignment: Judgement (Lightning), Freedom (Dark)
Attributes:
Strength: 404
Durability: 291
Intelligence: 449
Willpower: 286
Mana Points (MP): 677/677
Dark Mana Points (Wraith Heart): 100/100
Quantum Mana Points (Quantum Node): 200/200
Stamina Points (SP): 1041/1041
Abilities:
Mana Devourer
Distortion Cloak
Reality Gremlin Paradox
Quantum Attunement
Alignment Abilities (2/5):
Thunder Verdict
Court of Quantum Edicts
Species Skills:
Resonance Roar: Level 1 (II)
Reinforced Scales: Level 5 (II)
Advanced Flight: Level 4 (II)
Rich Respiration: Level 5 (II)
Breath of Shadows: Level 9 (II)
Adaptive Grip: Level 3 (II)
Flame Jet: Level 4 (II)
Advanced Mana Manipulation: Level 8 (II)
Advanced Core Stabilization: Level 5 (II)
Constrict: Level 2 (I)
Exclusive Skills:
Transformation: Level 4 (I)
Quantum Affinity: Level 1 (I)
Techniques (1/2):
Phantom Dragon Dance: Level 4 (I)
Mutations:
Eyes: Focusing Lenses, Peripheral Optimization (III)
Claws: Claw Flexibility, Razor-Edge Claws (III)
Scales: Colour Adaptation, Shock-Absorbent Scales (III)
Wings: Hollow Bones, Mana-Infused Fibers (III)
Legs: Joint Flexibility, Mana-Responsive Cartilage (III)
Fire Gland: Mana Reservoir, Mana Conservation (III)
Macro-Trophic Sac: Stamina Surge Reservoir, Toxicity Neutralizer (III)
Mana Conduit Vasculature: Micro-Mana Control, Mana Conduit Resilience (III)
Dimensional Lamina: Resonance-Stabilizing Membranes, Phase Microfilament Clusters (III)
Dimensional Convergence Tendrils: Reactive Tendrils, Refined Neural Pathways (III)
Quantum Nexus (I) (+0)
Resources:
Skill Points: 62
Morphogens: 249
Deep… heaving… breaths.
The heavy stat bonuses were nice, sure—but the one thing I didn’t know from the damn book was how much mana I’d end up with after evolving.
And then I saw it.
HOLY THALADOR.
Six hundred and seventy-seven points of mana?!?
Plus another 300 from my supplemental cores?
What the actual fuck?!
Before this evolution, I had what—153 mana? Toss in the +30 from the supplemental wraith core… yeah, decent. But now?
Now even that core seemed to have undergone some kind of metamorphosis, bumping its contribution from 30 to a clean 100.
But honestly, it didn’t even matter.
Because right now, I was holding more mana in my core supplement than I had total last evolution.
977 mana.
My mouth started watering at the possibilities. So much mana. What the hell couldn’t I do now?
Everything else seemed more or less the same. Mostly.
Except… one thing.
Something had changed—something fundamental.
I’d attuned with the concept of darkness too.
Could people even do that? Resonate with multiple core elements? Was that a thing? Or was this just a dragon perk? No clue. I didn’t have the background or the knowledge to make a proper guess.
But that wasn’t the only new toy in the box.
There was the Quantum Nexus.
An organ unlike anything else.
It felt weird—alien, yet intimately mine. Located just behind my chest, small but impossibly dense, with slender filaments threading throughout my body like living circuits.
Right now, it was dormant. Silent.
So, naturally, I poked it.
I reached out through my Quantum Node—
FWUMP.
The Nexus woke hungry, slurping mana like a parched demigod.
Not even a second passed and it had devoured a hundred points from the Quantum Node.
I slammed the faucet shut.
“Sweet screaming void,” I hissed.
This thing was a mana black hole.
And it was only half full.
I hesitated… then grimaced and let it keep drinking.
Another hundred gone.
And then, finally—completion.
The feeling of fullness. Of connection. The Nexus was ready.
200 points of Quantum mana. That’s how much it took to fuel it entirely.
Two hundred.
To put that into perspective, those overcharged lightning blasts I used to fire—the ones that shattered my veins and made me bleed power? Those cost maybe fifty, max.
Even my fire gland—my volatile, energy-spewing death organ—was so much cheaper than this thing.
But then again…
The Quantum Nexus didn’t spit fire or launch bolts.
It made clones. Not illusions. Not cheap tricks. Clones.
Would they be brainless meat puppets? Smug, sentient mini-mes? If they packed my strength and durability? Terrifying.
Would they share my mana pool? Have their own? No idea. I’d have to test it. Carefully.
All I knew was this: whatever this power was, it was starting to shatter any sense of normalcy I had left.
I was itching to test-drive this madness when dread sucker-punched my euphoria. Right. I’m still squatting in a giant egg above the clouds. I couldn’t waste time here.
People would have noticed I’d gone missing. And if anyone connected the dots between that “enigmatic silver-scaled drakkari” and me?
I’d be so deep in shit I’d hit magma.
First things first—I needed information. Lay low, stay hidden, see what the situation looked like below.
So, Intel. Vanish. Spy the surface circus. If safe, maybe slink back to the Alchemy Tower with a tall tale.
If.
Unfurled my wings—Thalador, they could eclipse a small barn—and heaved upward. Neck coiled, muscles screaming. The tempest-shell split with a sound like the sky clearing its throat.
Freedom.
“AHHHH! SWEET, SWEET LIBERA—” The roar choked as I scanned the horizon. Not awe. Horror.
My “solitude”? Obliterated.
Elves. One. Two. Skip math—twelve leaf-munching glitter-princes.
“—ahem,” I croaked, as the shell dissolved into cloud-scraps.
Silence. A dozen eyes wide as banquet plates.
Air Sense buzzed awake, scouting the area. No backup. Just these clowns. And… there. A pulse prickling my senses.
Foxian tails. Hair like spilled ink. Ears twitching like guilty antennae. Breath hitching in a rhythm I’d know mid-nightmare.
Pupils sharpened to dagger-points.
Lysska.
What in the seven scorched hells was she doing here?!
Oh, Thalador’s stinky left boot. Triple-fried fuck.
Lotte and Gwen’s warnings clanged in my skull: Never. Ever. Flash the scales.
And here I was—preening like a gilded monument, sun-kissed and colossal, while Lysska stood statue-still, gaping like I was a museum exhibit labeled “Doomed Dragon: Touch at Your Peril.”
Anyone with clearance in the upper circles knew what dragons looked like. And Lysska? She used to be a Vor’akh. Those terrorists worshipped dragons. Revered them. She definitely knew what she was looking at.
And the elves?
I swallowed hard.
But then something clicked. A spark.
Every elf here was airborne. Riding mounts.
I scanned them again—and sure enough, Doltharion stood among them.
Him. That pompous prick. Even he looked like his eyes were about to fall out of his skull, frozen stiff at the sight of me.
These were elves.
And I was a dragon.
There was no room for hesitation.
Math was simple: No witnesses.
They had to die.
Right. Now.
Lysska? Future-me’s migraine.
I reached inward, into my core. Now swollen, restructured, blazing with energy.
And right beneath Thunder Verdict, another spell had etched itself into the crystal architecture. Massive. Complex. So densely written it made my head ache just trying to comprehend it.
I didn’t need to understand it. I just needed to use it.
I latched onto it with my will—and immediately, it drank from my mana like a dying man in a desert.
But that flicker of power seemed to stir one idiot to action. An elven rider twitched, hand jerking up in a pre-cast reflex.
My wings flinched. Just once.
And in a blink—my massive head was inches from his face.
There was no time to marvel at the sheer speed I possessed now. Not with so many potential threats.
“Who gave you permission to twitch, you knife-eared cunt?”
I growled the words, letting that draconic arrogance drip like venom.
His eyes widened in horror, his arm frozen mid-spell—
—and then blood gushed from his mouth.
He looked down.
My claw—as large as his torso—was buried through his chest like a spear.
He didn’t even get to scream. The light fled his eyes before I even twitched again.
I tore sideways, shredding his body and hurling the pieces off his mount. The mount—a massive eagle-like beast with four shadowy limbs—screeched in panic.
WHAP.
A tentacle snagged it mid-panic.
SQUELCH.
One squeeze. Now a feathery stress ball leaking jam.
Down the hatch. Crunch.
Hmm. Monch. Monch.
Tasty. I was feeling rather hungry after my evolution, anyway. But that wasn’t the point. This wasn’t about hunger. This was a performance. A theater. A gory matinee to buy thinking time while painting the sky red.
“I—IT’S A D—DRAGON!”
The scream finally ripped from one of the riders. And of course, it was Doltharion. That coward.
Still, his sound broke whatever fragile sense of courage remained. Faces whitened. Bodies stiffened. Fear bled into the air like ink in water.
Even with my Distortion Cloak still active—flickering, blurring my edges—some of them could still see me clearly. Sharp eyes. Red core, at least 6 of them.
And I was a red core now too.
But none of them… felt dangerous.
I didn’t know where the certainty came from—instinct, maybe, or something deeper. But I could feel their strength against mine like paper brushing stone. Even the one I’d already gutted—he had a red core. I’d felt a flicker of resistance when my claws sank into him. That was all.
That resistance felt laughable now. My claws pulsed with Quantum mana. The attunement was working. Claws were my weapons—so were my teeth, my tentacles, every inch of me. I could feel all of it humming, resonating with that elusive current of Quantum mana.
Only one presence gave me pause.
Lysska. Still hovering behind me. Still watching. Still not attacking.
What the fuck was she doing here? What any of these knife-eared fucks were doing here didn’t matter anymore. This secret—my secret—was going to die with them.
Except Lysska.
My core pulsed. The runes of the new spell blazed to life. And suddenly—drain. Heavy. Brutal. Immediate. 300 mana points, gone in a flash.
The Quantum mana surged like lightning in a thunderhead—elusive, unpredictable, alive.
[Court of Quantum Edicts]
Nothing changed outwardly. No flashy light show. No crackling sky. But I felt it—the reality shift. And so did they.
Every elf tensed. Even their mounts froze.
They didn’t understand what I’d done. But they felt it. Everyone did. The spell wasn’t finished yet. A knot of Quantum mana coiled in my throat, humming with potential.
And I knew what to do.
Declare a rule. Make it law. Enforce it with goddamn thunder.
I opened my jaws—and the sky shook with my voice.
“FLIGHT IS FORBIDDEN HERE!”
The declaration surged out in a pulse, invisible but undeniable. A law carved into the fabric of the sky. And just like that—I felt it. Everyone nearby. Tagged. Bound. Caught in the rule.
Every flying fool here just became a felon.
Including Lysska’s bird.
Shit.
Instinct overrode panic. I tweaked the spell, sparing her crow—10 mana gone. Worth it.
The rest?
Welcome to the no-fly zone.
A 35-meter radius of fuck around and find out.
And guess what elves' mounts love doing? Flying.
The first strike hit like divine spite.
Purple lightning erupted from below, vaporizing an elf and his mount mid-air. Poof. No ash, no scream—just gone, like a snowman in a volcano.
His core was Yellow. Didn’t save him.
Rules were broken. Judgment served.
And I was the jury, judge, and electric chair.
But it wasn’t a slaughter yet. Some of them still had enough brain cells left to throw up shield charms. The violet lightning was still coming down—raw, merciless, every three seconds—but now it was meeting resistance. It slammed into barriers, sizzling mana-laced air, fracturing the shields but not quite breaking through.
The yellow cores were dead before they understood what was happening.
No shields. No chance. Just vaporized where they hovered.
The red cores were a different matter. They had the mana. They had the gear. They had the instinct to run.
“RUN! FUCKING RUN AWAY! IT’S A DOMAIN! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”
Doltharion screeched.
A domain, huh?
That tracked.
And just like that, panic fully set in. Elves yanked at reins, urged mounts to bolt in every direction. The sky became a blur of feathers, screeches, shadow-limbed beasts diving toward cloud cover.
But they were still flying. Still breaking the rule. Still inside my court.
And the lightning didn’t care.
Every three seconds, it struck. All of them.
Not one bolt. Not a warning. An executioner’s blitz—one strike per rule-breaker, falling like judgment from an angry god.
Nine riders. Nine bolts.
Screams ribboned the air. Shields spiderwebbed. One yellow-core elf dissolved mid-curse; another plummeted, trailing a comet’s tail of smoke.
Tick. Three seconds. Boom.
Tick. Three more. Boom. Boom.
So far, five elves had died. One red, four yellow. One by my claw, four by the domain.
Only six red cores remained.
I didn’t feel threatened. Not even slightly.
Their barriers were stopgaps, not salvation. Scatter all they wanted—the only exit here was a one-way trip to the compost heap.
My “domain” was limited—35 meters. But distance was a problem I could solve. And I already had the solution.
My Quantum Nexus pulsed in my chest—fully charged, crackling with quantum mana.
I grinned, baring rows of glimmering, quantum-attuned fangs.
Let’s audit what 200 mana bought me.
Comments
Peter Smith
Jade "ah yes im in danger as long as im in my egg" *opens egg** " ah yes i am the danger because the elves wanted to make me a scrambled egg, lets play a game of don't flinch, oops you lose."
Roope
I just yesterday rewhatched the two scotish guys in an elevator skit and I almost heard jade yell "freedom" in a scotish accent
inkaral
I initially misread the title as “sweet, sweet Frodo” and got confused for a second kek
Celeria Rosencroix
The dramatic irony drips sickly sweet, and the terror and revelation echo a most lovely tune, as well. Lovely, lovely stuff~
Camille Vacio
I just gotta hear lyyska's inner turmoil next chapters when jade comes out and starts slaughtering the elves
GlisteningCheese
This is positively delightful just what I needed before I head to bed. Now then, how do you all think Doltharion is going to die? Perhaps he will lose his mount and Plummet to his doom. (after Jade toys with him that is)
Shai182
TFTC! And I must say this is a delicate snack you served here!
ht1318
Sweet sweet chaos!!
Chempress
Thanks for the chapter!
Shelbo
Glorious day and apocalyptic ending brought forth by luck
Stway
Very good
WritInSpace
Tick Tock Boom!
MangOwO
FIRST!
Krzychu0304
First?
