The energy being funneled into Caedor's body through the vines was relentless—an endless torrent of stolen power, feeding him, evolving him.
"You making it here," Caedor said, his voice low and venomous, "means the army I sent out has been completely wiped out…"
He sneered, eyes glowing with contempt. "Useless trash. Every last one of them."
Then he looked down at Ethan and the others, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "I'll admit, I didn't expect you outsiders to be this strong. If I'd known, I would've planted more vines where you were fighting. Could've drained even more power from you."
Ethan's brow furrowed, his whole body tense. There was something deeply wrong about what he was seeing. Caedor wasn't just powerful—he was on the verge of something else entirely.
He was evolving.
Not just his racial traits, but his level, his very essence.
Ethan quickly pulled up Caedor's data panel—and his heart sank.
He was one step away from Tier 19.
