Chapter 222: Ouroboros Progenitor

Adam’s finger hovered over the shimmering interface, his decision crystallizing with finality.

“Ouroboros Progenitor, I choose you.”

The system chimed.

[Evolution Path Selected: Ouroboros Progenitor]

[Do you wish to proceed?]

[YES] / [NO]

Adam pressed YES.

The world dissolved.

Light—soft, pulsing, silver-gold—filled the cocoon, pressing against him from all sides. His body felt strange, as if every cell was being unmade and remade simultaneously. The sensation of his very existence being rewritten.

He closed his eyes and let it happen.

Outside the cocoon, the clearing had settled into a quiet rhythm. Lilith knelt beside the wyvern lord’s massive corpse, her silver-threaded gown pooling around her like spilled moonlight. In her hands, a shard of sharpened bone glinted as she carved into the thick hide.

Ignis crouched beside her, flames flickering with barely contained excitement. Her golden eyes tracked every slice of Lilith’s makeshift blade, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“There! There! Cut that side part—the one near the ribs! That’s the tenderest part! It’ll be so good when we cook it later!”

Lilith’s lips curved into a serene smile. Her movements were precise, efficient, each cut designed to maximize the yield of usable meat.

“Patience, Ignis. Good meat requires careful preparation.”

Ignis’s flames flared impatiently, but she subsided, watching with greedy eyes.

After a moment, Lilith glanced over her shoulder at Isolde, who had settled against a tree at the edge of the clearing. The vampire’s hood was still lowered, her crimson hair spilling over her shoulders, catching the fading light.

“Hey, vampire.” Lilith’s voice was light, almost conversational. “Do you think this monster’s materials could be useful?”

Isolde’s pale eyes shifted to the wyvern’s corpse. Her expression was guarded, but she answered readily enough.

“The hide can be used for certain types of magic-resistant clothing. Not top-tier, but serviceable.” She gestured with her chin. “The cores are valuable. You could sell them for a high price. The claws and fangs can be crafted into weapons—daggers, arrowheads, that sort of thing. And the bones…” She paused, considering. “Ground into powder, they make a decent alchemical base. Mixed with the right ingredients, you could create strength potions, healing salves, that sort of thing.”

Ignis’s eyes went wide. “Ooh! So this is a treasure chest? We’re rich!”

Lilith examined a strip of wyvern hide, turning it over in her hands. “Hmm. The hide is too damaged to be useful for armor—Adam’s attacks were quite thorough. But the rest…” She glanced at Ignis. “Ignis, could you retrieve the cores from the wyverns we killed earlier?”

Ignis nodded eagerly, scrambling to her feet. “On it!”

She bounded off toward the forest’s edge, where the bodies of the lesser wyverns had fallen.

Lilith’s crimson eyes lingered on Ignis’s retreating form for a moment, then shifted to Isolde. Her smile didn’t waver, but something in her gaze sharpened.

“While I was evolving… did you and Adam do something?”

Isolde’s face went still. Her voice, when it came, was flat.

“I told you. Nothing happened.”

Lilith tilted her head, her expression flickering with something between curiosity and suspicion. “Hmm. But it’s strange. Your hair suddenly turned red.” She paused, letting the silence stretch. “Is that your natural color?”

Isolde’s jaw tightened. Her hand drifted self-consciously to a strand of crimson hair, twirling it between her fingers.

“Ah… that…” She looked away, her voice clipped. “It was to disguise myself. To avoid drawing attention. Nothing else.”

Lilith’s smile widened slightly. She said nothing, simply turned back to her carving.

The silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft sound of Lilith’s blade against wyvern flesh and the distant rustle of Ignis foraging through the underbrush.

Isolde’s lips pressed into a thin line as she watched Lilith’s serene smile. Her internal voice seethed with irritation.

’Damn spider. Always asking strange questions. I was just bored with my white hair, that’s all… nothing strange about that…’

She looked away, her fingers still tangled in a strand of crimson.

Before her thoughts could spiral further, the underbrush rustled.

“I got the cores, Lilith!”

Ignis burst through the trees, her arms cradling a bundle of glowing orbs. They pulsed with faint light—pale grey, like smoke caught in glass, some darker with veins of charcoal threading through their centers. The wyvern cores. She dumped them unceremoniously at Lilith’s feet, scattering across the moss.

Lilith’s crimson eyes swept over the pile, counting. Her lips curved into an approving smile.

“Oh. Thank you, Ignis. You work quickly.”

Ignis beamed, then her gaze drifted to the wyvern lord’s corpse. Lilith had been methodical, stripping the usable meat in long, clean strips and piling them on a large leaf. The pile was substantial.

“Ooh, that’s a lot of meat!” Ignis’s flames flickered with excitement. “Will it all fit in Adam’s inventory? The Pouch of the Hoarding Gnome is big, but this is… a lot of meat.”

Lilith tilted her head, considering. Her voice was calm, measured.

“It should be enough. Adam’s pouch has a surprising amount of space. For this amount…” She gestured at the pile. “…it will be more than sufficient.”

Ignis nodded, satisfied. She crouched beside the meat pile, sniffing appreciatively.

“So… when Adam’s done evolving, we’re going to eat this, right? All of it?”

Lilith’s smile sharpened. “Some of it. The rest we’ll save for the journey.”

Ignis’s golden eyes drifted toward Isolde, who had been quietly observing from the edge of the clearing. The dragon’s voice was curious, almost innocent.

“Hey, Isolde. Have you ever eaten this kind of meat before?”

Isolde stiffened, caught off guard by the sudden question. Her pale eyes flickered to the pile of wyvern meat, then back to Ignis.

“I… have. Once.” Her voice was clipped, reluctant. “It wasn’t good. The meat was too chewy to eat properly. And the smell…” She wrinkled her nose. “Unpleasant. But it was edible, I suppose.”

Ignis’s flames flickered with disappointment. “Ehh? I thought it would be like the meat we ate in the dungeon. That was delicious!”

Lilith’s voice drifted over, calm and thoughtful.

“That may be due to differences in climate and habitat.” She gestured at the surrounding forest. “The environment here is different—the air, the water, the creatures they feed on. All of it affects the quality of the meat.” She paused, her crimson eyes thoughtful. “And this region may have been contaminated by something. The wyverns’ territory borders the Wasteland, after all.”

Isolde’s brow furrowed. “Contaminated?”

Lilith shrugged. “It’s possible. The Wasteland’s influence spreads further than most realize. But…” Her lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. Adam can cook well enough to make even poor ingredients taste decent.”

Ignis’s flames flickered with excitement. “Oh, right! Adam can definitely cook it like he always does. I can’t wait!”

Lilith pulled a small handkerchief from a fold in her sleeve and reached up, dabbing at the corner of Ignis’s mouth. Her voice was dry, affectionate.

“Yes, yes. Wipe your drool, Ignis.”

Ignis’s face flushed, but she accepted the ministrations without complaint.

Isolde watched the exchange, her pale eyes sharp. Then she spoke, her voice cutting through the easy camaraderie.

“I’ve been curious since yesterday. When we first met, you said you were monsters, didn’t you?” She paused, letting the question settle. “What dungeon did you come from?”

Lilith’s hand stilled on Ignis’s chin. She turned her head slowly, her crimson eyes fixing on Isolde with a cool expression.

“Hmm? I didn’t expect you to be curious about us.”

Isolde’s jaw tightened, her pale eyes narrowing. Her voice came out sharp, edged with frustration she didn’t bother to hide.

“It’s because I find it strange. Most monsters don’t reach the peak of their evolution. Some do, but it’s rare—one in a million, maybe. And those that do evolve usually become more primitive. More savage. More of a threat to every race around them.” She glanced at the cocoon, then back at Lilith. “But you three are different. You’ve evolved into something far beyond normal monsters. And it seems…” She paused, her gaze lingering on Lilith’s serene face. “You’re still not at your peak yet.”

Lilith’s smile didn’t waver. She folded her handkerchief neatly and tucked it away.

“You’re perceptive.”

Isolde’s eye twitched. “That’s not an answer.”

Lilith tilted her head, considering. Her voice, when it came, was soft—almost gentle.

“We came from a dungeon far from here. A place deep underground. Untouched by humans. Filled with monsters that had never seen the light of day.” She paused, letting the name settle. “But I don’t think that’s what you’re really asking.”

Isolde’s lips pressed into a thin line. She said nothing.

Ignis, oblivious to the tension, piped up. “We’re special! That’s why we’re so strong!”

Lilith’s smile widened. “Indeed.”

Isolde’s expression shifted—disappointment flickering across her pale features, followed by a quiet resignation. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension draining from her frame.

“Oh. I see.” She looked away, her voice carefully neutral. “If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine. It’s not like I’m entitled to know your history.”

She pulled her hood higher, as if trying to disappear into the shadows of the fabric.

Lilith’s crimson eyes studied her for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, she spoke.

“We came from the Maw.”

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