Chapter 38: Chapter 34 — Small Openings

John did not rush.

That alone felt like progress.

From a high branch woven thick with vines, he watched the Abyssal Verdant Colossus pass beneath him. The monster’s bulk moved with a slow certainty that made the forest feel fragile by comparison. Each step crushed roots that had taken centuries to grow. Stone cracked. Mana warped. And yet—despite all that raw power—there were moments where its movement lagged, where its weight shifted just a fraction too slowly.

Those moments were what John was looking for.

He stayed still, barely breathing, wings folded tight to his sides. Predator’s Instinct hummed quietly in the back of his mind, not screaming danger, but whispering details. Timing. Rhythm. Patterns.

The Colossus paused near a shallow ravine, its massive arm—more like a knotted pillar of bark and abyssal stone—reaching down to tear free a cluster of glowing roots. When it did, the mana flow around its torso dipped. Just slightly. Barely noticeable.

John’s eyes narrowed.

*There.*

Not a weakness. Not yet. But an opening.

He didn’t attack.

Instead, he moved.

John slipped away through the upper canopy, careful to keep the Colossus at the edge of his perception. He needed distance—not to escape, but to prepare. His goal wasn’t damage. Not today. Today was about testing.

He landed near a cluster of broken stones where the ground sloped unevenly, then crouched low and focused inward.

“Slow,” he muttered to himself.

He drew mana into his core, then released it—not as an attack, but as a controlled pulse through his limbs. His scales hardened subtly, the familiar weight of **Scale Hardening** settling over him. He flexed a claw, then relaxed it.

No strain. Good.

Next, he spread his wings just enough to catch the air and leapt, gliding low between the trees. He pushed himself into a tight turn, then another, banking sharply around trunks and over fallen logs.

**Aerial Mastery** responded cleanly. His movements felt smoother than before—less wasted motion, more intent. He noted it mentally.

*That’s improved.*

The Colossus roared somewhere behind him—not loud, not furious, but deep. Resonant. A sound that rolled through the forest like distant thunder.

John froze mid-glide and dropped into a crouch behind a boulder.

It hadn’t seen him.

But it had felt *something*.

Good to know.

He waited several long breaths, then carefully peeked around the stone. The Colossus had turned slightly, its glowing eyes scanning the area John had just passed through. It stood still for a moment, then resumed its slow advance.

John’s tail flicked once.

*So it reacts to disturbances in mana or movement. Not sight alone.*

That was useful.

He circled wider this time, keeping his distance. When he felt confident, he gathered mana again—this time shaping it into a thin, controlled stream.

He exhaled.

A narrow ribbon of **Dark Flame** spilled from his mouth, not aimed at the Colossus, but at the ground ahead of it. The fire scorched the earth, leaving behind blackened stone and faintly crackling residue.

John cut the flame immediately and retreated.

The Colossus stopped.

Slowly, it turned its massive head toward the scorched ground. One enormous claw pressed into the earth beside the burn mark. The mana in the air thickened, pooling around the limb as if the monster were… tasting it.

John held his breath.

After a moment, the Colossus straightened and moved on.

No retaliation. No pursuit.

John released the breath he’d been holding.

*It noticed… but it didn’t consider it a threat.*

That stung more than he liked—but it was information. And information kept him alive.

He repeated the process again, hours later, from a different angle. This time, he used terrain instead of flame.

With a powerful flap of his wings, he dislodged a precariously balanced boulder from a ridge just ahead of the Colossus’s path. The stone crashed down, exploding into fragments and dust.

The Colossus reacted faster this time.

Its arm shot out, catching the largest chunk mid-fall. Stone shattered against its grip. The monster didn’t even stagger.

But John saw it.

The brief tightening along its shoulder. The delay before it resumed movement.

*Reaction time isn’t instant.*

That mattered.

John retreated again, heart pounding—not with fear, but focus. His mind was already stitching together what he’d learned.

— The Colossus was intelligent and cautious.

— It responded to mana disturbances.

— Its strength was overwhelming, but its mass limited rapid adjustments.

— It did not waste energy chasing minor threats.

Which meant one thing.

*I need to make it commit.*

But not yet.

As the day wore on, John continued his quiet testing. A sudden dive that stirred the air near the Colossus’s flank. A burst of mana released and cut off before forming an attack. A fallen tree knocked into its path.

Each time, he watched. Each time, he learned.

And each time, he survived.

By the time the forest began to darken, his body ached—not from wounds, but from tension. Constant movement. Constant restraint. Fighting every instinct that screamed at him to strike harder, to prove himself.

He landed in a concealed hollow and finally allowed himself to rest, chest rising and falling steadily.

“I’m not ready,” he said quietly. “But I’m closer than I was yesterday.”

The system pulsed faintly in response—not with warnings, but with cold confirmation.

[Skill Proficiency Increased.]

[Dark Flame Breath: Control improved.]

[Aerial Mastery: Maneuver precision increased.]

John huffed a tired laugh. “Figures.”

He looked back toward the distant silhouette of the Colossus, now partially obscured by trees and shadow. It had not left. It was still moving, still pressing deeper toward his territory.

Toward *him*.

John’s expression hardened—not with panic, but resolve.

*This isn’t a battle yet,* he thought. *It’s a conversation.*

And he was finally starting to understand the other side.

He curled his tail around himself, eyes never fully closing, mind already planning the next test. The openings were small. Dangerous. Easy to misjudge.

But they were there.

And if John had learned anything since being reborn in this world, it was this:

Small openings were all a dragon needed to change his fate.

—

GIVE ME SOME POWERSTONES

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