Demonic Devourer's Development

I carefully returned in my memories back to the point of my rebirth. Since there wasn't these many days to sift through, it was a task I prevailed in even with my mediocre INT. Still, this was just something hard to tell. The line was entirely blank, and character sheet, the virtual structure it was, didn't have borders.

As long as the line was the last in my abilities list, it was very hard to see it, and when I did, I never paid attention. But I was pretty sure that the first time I noticed it was… somewhere soon after I got Pest.

'Hey, Pest. Can you explain me one thing?'

'That really depends on what that thing is…' Pest's voice was wary. 'You don't want me to explain something inexplainable to you, like why I'm stuck here with you while some other draining curse enjoys his life in a body of a dragon or another monster that actually follows his commands.'

'Careful with sass, Pest. Tell me, what is that blank line in my character sheet? I'm sure you noticed, with how you like to look at my abilities.'

'That little thing? He-he, that's just me.'

'You? What does that mean?'

'Me! As simple as that! Draining curses are like these magic contracts. We have to leave a mark on our host's character sheet. I have my own sheet, too, tho, but how else I'd see yours, anyway? It's not like there's any ability for it, hah. That'd be just insane!'

I shook my head, filed that useless bit of information with all the other useless information I gathered on my way and looked into the window again. Dawn. I felt rested enough, even though I evolved instead of sleeping, to go out. My breakfast waited outside; going down into the inn's hall was foolish now that I looked like a complete monster again.

But I expected this and had my exit ready. I packed my things into the bag Rosha made for me and left through the window, jumping from my room right into the deep blue sky.

⠀⠀

The foothills of Blue Mountains were lands of sheep herds, serpentine roads and many thin streams that came from the melting snow caps. There was a lot of ground to cover in my search for Frost Griffins. They weren't the only interesting creatures in the area—there were plenty of animals I caught that didn't live in forests, but none had any abilities I didn't have before.

I kept to the biggest herds of sheep, knowing that if hunger was what drove griffins out of their normal habitats, it would also drive them towards food. Flight on my wings took plenty of stamina from me, since I couldn't glide, but regular food intake helped me with that. I didn't do all the search on wings—since my prey was flying, it was more convenient to look from below than from above. Instead, I used them only to move from a herd to a herd, then search for any traces of griffin presence.

Like that, it was only half a day before I've caught a first of those. Sadly, the trace I found were adventurers. A team of six, they appeared to be lying in wait from where I sneaked up on them. It was easy to do, since they looked into the sky much more than anywhere else, and if their lousy equipment was any sign, were pretty green.

Green or not, though, there were six of them. I chose to pick another place to hunt. The adventurers, though, were everywhere in the foothills—Rosha wasn't the only greedy for feathers of Frost Griffins. It was, to say the least, annoying. I also could tell that I won't find many griffins in the areas so full with adventurers.

I had to go higher in the mountains, and I did just that.

There, the human settlements became rarer and smaller, and so did the herds of both sheep and adventurers. The cliffs and crevices of the landscape didn't help them, too—but didn't obstruct me. The weather grew colder, but I had enough warm clothes for that.

Finally, I could hunt to my heart's enjoyment, and the further I went into the mountains, the more traces of griffins I found. Old nest there, claw marks in a cliff face here. Mostly old, but I knew I was close.

It was my second day of hunt when I found a small feather stuck in a bush. It couldn't have been there for long. The feather was light icy blue, and cold to the touch. I knew then that it was the thing. For Rosha (and gold), I pocketed it, and searched the area until I found more traces. Dung piles, claw marks—fresher this time—and even footprints.

I reached griffins' hunting territory. A single griffin or several of them, that I didn't know yet, but I kept looking. Since they were half birds, I expected them to be active at day, and I turned out to be right.

It was day, the morning of my third, when I spotted a griffin. It was lying on an edge of a cliff, looking at its domain with a watchful eagle eye. Only the white tip of its tail moved, swished left and right, showing me with its colour that it was a female.

What a majestic picture it was: show-white lion body, ice-blue eagle wings and head. It merged with the snow of its surroundings, just like the white of my clothing, but not with the grey stone or the green lichen and moss.

The griffin noticed me the next instant. It wast just luck that it didn't spot me before I spotted it. I stood up straighter and grinned.

It was time for some good open combat for a change.

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