Karn didn’t know why they worshiped the dragons so much.

They aren’t really that much of a big deal.

Sure, they’re big and scary, and might even sling about a few spells, but to be honest? It just doesn’t seem like a whole lot to him.

Maybe if he worshiped a different dragon, his thoughts would change, but this one? To him, it just seemed like a prideful, lazy punk who waited around for his minions to collect treasure for him.

Sure, the whelp could read mana weaves, but from what he’s heard, that’s basic dragon education from their parents. Everything else he got was also from his parents, namely his pack of minions.

Kobolds, just like Karn.

As soon as the dragon landed, the colony basically bowed down, which was tradition or something. After that, the supplied minions took over the clan, and that was how it was.

Dragons giving sons and daughters their own set of creatures is apparently also a tradition.

He just didn’t see the point of constantly getting food, water, treasure, and defending the lump of scales. It made everyone happy to have one around, but there was just no point!

It pissed him off that someone thought they were better because they were born better.

If that is the case, he was born better because he’s Karn.

Stronger, smarter, swifter. All these things just a bit better than the others, not because he was born that way, but because he was born for bigger things, bigger things than this, which is below him. He worked for his improvements, unlike a certain someone.

He took another bite of the lushi fruit he harvested while scavanging. He had another one, so he could eat this one as fast as he wished. He knew where the best groves are, and the soft red flesh of the plant could barely keep the fluids from linking. More juice than solid, yet filling nonetheless. 

It would be even tastier if he had someone else feed it to him, and quite preferably of the opposite gender.

Keeping his armwraps pristine, and avoiding dripping the substance on his bare chest, he picked up the second fruit with his clawed hand, the tips reaching over just enough not to tear into it.

A cloth kept his underparts hidden, in a fashionable bright orange to supplement their red scales, which represented their new ‘deity’. 

His chest, muscular, and his arms and legs of good thickness, he makes it to the upper tier of low society. Yet, if you were in low society, no one cared about you, no matter how strong you were, because the gap between low and middle is so far that the only thing they are considered are fodder-breeders.

Which isn’t exactly incorrect, but he still didn’t like it.

But he, he isn’t the same as the others. He isn’t satisfied.

Karn picked up the third fruit of the batch, one that isn’t for him.

Double checking to make sure his stuff wasn’t going to be swiped, he left one of the alcoves for resting, a place of no privacy and essentially a communal sleep pile.

He knew the caves like the back of his hand, and the layout of the traps even clearer. Derertri got snagged by the compress trap a few days ago, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Darkness meant nothing to him or his race, really, though they did keep a torch burning every few paces, since they didn’t have the ability to see in complete darkness, and they were already pretty far in the caverns. Actual sunlight however? It sucked. Nobody likes scavenging duty for a reason.

He took a bite out of his second fruit, wasting no bit of it as he observed some drawings of his people upon the walls. Not interesting most of the time, but still something to do as he walked.

He tapped the wall with one of his claws. Not quite the frequency, it seemed.

Every few meters he tapped once more.

*tap*

*ta-*

“Huh.”

Quicker than he remembered it would be.

Taking the opening right next to him, he darted to the immediate right, took a sharp left, then a right.

There were only a few people who liked windy passages, and one of them he was about to meet.

“Oi, hag.”

His grandmother. A woman so wrinkly that he couldn’t tell the difference between her and the dried up version of the plucked plant he now held. Her gnarled oak staff was to the right side as her personal brazier was lit on her left. A greenish hue was invited into the room because of the flame, tainting the red stone all about and her dark cloak. How she still managed to lay eggs was anyone’s guess, and also kind of creepy in his opinion. Sex never involved romantic feelings in the community but… seriously?

A sore attempt for a chuckle escaped the shriveled lady at what he deemed an accurate representation of her. “I’m no hag, I’m still a kobold.”

“Hag, I want you to check me again.”

Tarka gave another chuckling wheeze. Her old age seemed to be catching up to her, her decrepit mind interpreting things in strange ways. Combined with the mana she holds and the implications of her ever decreasing lifespan terrify him to no small degree. A crazed magic caster and a tight cave system together does not bode well.

Her boney fingers gestured him near, and he complied. Karn always wondered why nobody ever went to her for a reading, but it’s perhaps because his kin are fools.

Tarka’s dusty scales on the palm of her hand brushed against his own robust ones. His eyes narrowed as he watched her manipulate the quite invisible force within her onto him. 

A small light brushed against his hide.

Like a chemical reaction, a light blue net formed across the entire front of both his upper arms and legs, a small portion on his chest, and a square upon his fore. The netting was loose, and the spaces between lines not even close enough to be called a mesh. He grunted in disapproval, not minding how the insane person next to him would react. Tarka, he knew, was already too focused.

With a thread of her own, she loosened the weave even further, gently massaging them until they were barely attached. Her tongue flicked out of her reptilian lips unconsciously, pondering the shapes and patterns that were construed.

It touched and flickered over every single fiber before returning to the body it left from. Karn’s eyes were able to just barely capture a glimmer of her own webbing, vast and intricate compared to his own, though whether it was because she was a caster or not was something he couldn’t tell.

“No changes.” she rasped, not even having to cough afterwards due to her surprisingly good health. She gently picked up the gift Karn brought and nibbled on it for a while as he took that time to ponder.

She left his mage veins glowing so he could look at them while she finished her meal, which happened to be more than liquidy enough to parch the throat.

Though Karn happened to be very prideful, he acknowledged it, and more so his weaknesses. It’s true he thought himself better than most, but that did not mean he would not take the opportunities to learn, unlike his brethren. He just happened to be destined for greatness, one not built upon empty boasts.

He recalled his previous lessons with Tarka. A person’s mage veins made up who they were and how strong they happened to be. Very few species happened to be completely without them, he knew, but he was not yet at the level to manipulate them.

Kobolds happened to usually be quite weak and frail, while in exchange being granted a dexterity superiority over other humanoids, only made possible by the natural netting on the front of their legs at birth.

While Karn’s grandma started eating the core of the meal, he couldn’t help but smile a bit in victory. He already surpassed them in natural ability, but with the help of a vein weaver, there was no doubt he was on the fast track to glory.

His arms were imbued with strength, putting him at equal footing with larger humanoids, while his chest enhanced his natural defences, but there was one thing that truly put him above the others’ level.

The square upon his head.

Wiping her mouth as if to quench the plates upon her frail body, she once more took upon herself the task of messing with his very foundation. By tugging a single length from one of his fingers, the veins dug into his skin. Not painful though. In fact, he didn’t feel anything from him happening, not even making him uncomfortable. Then again, not even feeling uncomfortable from it made him feel uncomfortable, so he just stopped thinking about the contradictions.

“Mmmm…” the fossil mumbled, “let’s see…”

Taking the dangling lines, she made scissoring motion with the tips of her claws, cutting them from the rest while her practiced motions nimbly connected the strands into a single piece. Tarka’s pupil dilated while observing the scraps.

“Can you enhance it?” Karn didn’t point to anything, but she already knew what he meant while shaking her head.

“The weave is too tight. The longer the trait has been there the harder it can be to improve. Besides,” she paused, as if for dramatic effect, when in reality she likely spaced out, “this is not that type of thread.”

“Before you can be built upon further, you need a greater foundation. We will use this leftover for that. Now, watch, and imagine what sort of power you wish for.”

Karn already knew the answer. A powerful ability, yet generalized. He liked to not go into things without thinking.

Then again, he also liked to do the opposite.

“Ah,” Tarka opened her eyes a slit more, “I see. A good choice.”

Muscles in her hands flexed, tendons expanded to the point of which it should have ripped the skin to tatters. They no longer belonged to an elderly person, nor a kobold. By the appearance alone it seemed to surpass those in the rankings of the middle tier, the weight of them somehow not breaking her arms.

And, with a sudden striking sensation, Karn lost all normal sensation.