26 Blood Dependent!

As the veil of darkness lifted, Bruce ended his practice of aerial maneuvers and settled into a meditative trance, akin to a human mage. Within the profound depths of his mind's sea of consciousness, he diligently refined his mastery over flight magic and the intricate construction of the Green Dragon's poisonous breath spell.

Possessing an intellect that transcended human capabilities, Bruce remarkably condensed the spell modeling process from hours to mere minutes through a night's relentless practice. With a bit more finesse, he was on the cusp of achieving instantaneous spellcasting, a feat that would demand years from even the most gifted human sorcerers.

As dawn painted the sky with new light, hunger gnawed at Bruce, reclining within the comfort of his dragon's lair. Presently, Sansham and a quintet of Cyclopes delivered their catch—a formidable Dire Tiger.

Harnessing a balanced synergy of strength, the Cyclops, not lacking in combat prowess themselves, had effortlessly subdued the level-one beast.

Bruce nonchalantly tossed the prey into an acid pool before voraciously devouring it. "Insufficient," he muttered, his ravenous appetite unsated by the mere offering of the tiger.

Idly toying with his partially devoured meal, Bruce playfully threatened, "If such meager portions are all you provide daily, you might find yourselves in my belly next."

"Boss," a Cyclops retorted with a grin, revealing his rugged, spirited nature, "it's not for a lack of trying. But prey is scarce in these lands. Unless we venture beyond, starvation looms over us all, yourself included."

In this Cyclops, Bruce discerned a raw, heroic essence, sparking an unusual kinship within him—an impulse to elevate this Cyclops to more than a mere subordinate.

Lifting the half-eaten meal to his gaze, Bruce contemplated the Cyclops's plea.

"Aaa, but consuming such a capable and loyal servant? My flesh reeks, plagued by parasites, and fraught with all manner of unsavory ailments," the Cyclops quipped, his solitary eye twinkling humorously.

"Yearn to be my kin of blood?" Bruce interjected, his draconic voice resonating directly within the Cyclops's mind.

"An honor beyond words, to be bound by your bloodline, my leader," the Cyclops confessed, unable to mask his elation.

Bruce placed the Cyclops down, reflecting on the potent bloodline inherent to every true dragon—a reservoir of potent, magic-infused life force. Bestowing this blood upon his followers would not only fortify them but also imbue them with draconic traits, fostering an unbreakable bond of loyalty and kinship.

Generously, Bruce extended this sacred gift not only to the Cyclops but also to his other formidable allies—the goblin leader Mike, kobold Seth, and werewolf Sam. A trivial sacrifice of magical energy for Bruce, yet a transformative boon for his loyal assembly, granting them newfound strength and allegiance.

Dragons, often blinded by pride and arrogance, undervalued these so-called lesser beings, hoarding their precious blood, unwilling to acknowledge the potential of fostering true blood kin. Such folly.

Bruce smirked at the thought. His companions, Carona and Torenço, were no exception, steeped in the haughty disdain characteristic of dragonkind, particularly Torenço, whose contempt for other species was unmistakable. Yet, Bruce saw beyond this, recognizing strength and devotion where others saw none, ready to harness these traits for the tapestry of his ever-growing dominion.

Bruce sighed, acknowledging the weighty task of reshaping the entrenched notions of his kin, Torenço and Carona. His gaze swept over his newly transformed bloodline dependent, a sense of anticipation brewing within him for their eventual metamorphosis. Yet, the process of integrating his potent dragon blood was not instantaneous; it would demand months for the gradual and sublime transformation to unfold.

As summer's embrace waned, Bruce contemplated the looming scarcity of autumn. Memories of hunger during the previous year with his sibling and their mother, spurred him into action. While the ores mined by the kobolds could suffice, Bruce refused to compromise on nourishment quality, recognizing its impact on his strength development. After a collective decision, Torenço, Carona and his blood kin unanimously supported the expansion of their dominion to elevate their standard of living.

In this strategic endeavor, Bruce deployed his goblin subjects as scouts, tasking them with surveying a 100-kilometer radius. Prudently, he steered clear of the eastern realm of the formidable black dragon, Kassavia, acknowledging his current strength was inadequate for such a confrontation.

A week's reconnaissance painted a clear picture: to the west lay an orc tribe, their brute force and rudimentary intellect making them less of a concern despite the presence of mages within their tribe. Northward, a young blue dragon, not yet formidable, marked the boundary where the verdant forest met the desert. The south, however, presented a formidable challenge with a community of elves, their faith and might anchored by the possible presence of a Tree of Life and bolstered by strong mages, a threat far surpassing the western orcs.

Bruce, weighing the risks, decided against immediate confrontation with these factions, especially considering the lurking threat of Kassavia exploiting any turmoil. Instead, he deemed it prudent to conquer the wilderness, claiming territories from lesser beasts, a task he entrusted to Carona and Torenço while he oversaw from a distance, ready to personally confront any formidable beasts.

In quieter moments, Bruce delved into the arcane knowledge of human magic books, his mind a vessel of limitless potential. His ability to retain and inherit knowledge was unparalleled, a testament to the latent prowess of dragonkind. Bruce mused on the fate of his race, pondering how their fortunes could shift if they shed their hubris and embraced humility, learning from the world around them.