Chapter 39: The Master of Food

Morning sunlight poured across the pasture, burning away the last wisps of mist. Nana sprawled lazily in the grass, soaking up the warmth, while Alice pecked through the clover, searching for her favorite snacks.

Further off, Evans stood with a large basin in his hands, fixing the Little Cloak with a stern look.

"You can't keep being this lazy," he declared, his voice full of resolve.

After last night's deep dive into the Lethifold manuscript, Evans was more impressed than ever by the species' terrifying potential—and more aware than ever of how utterly unimpressive his own Little Cloak was by comparison.

Aside from its knack for creating a spooky atmosphere, the Little Cloak had inherited none of its kind's legendary powers. Maybe that was because it had never consumed a human, but Evans still couldn't abide such a powerful creature wasting its gifts.

He was determined to change that.

He'd spent the morning concocting a full Lethifold enhancement plan. There were already enough mascots in his household; he refused to let another one join their ranks.

"Here, let's start with something delicious," Evans said, beckoning the Little Cloak closer.

The cloak's hem fluttered hesitantly as it drifted toward the basin, eyeing it with suspicion. It had seen the Evil Wizard fussing over something all morning—boiling, pouring, muttering incantations—and now he was presenting this mysterious basin as if it were a treasure.

Curious, the Little Cloak extended its hood and peeked inside. A moment later, it recoiled, shaking its head furiously.

No, no, no!

"It's tasty, I promise! Just try it," Evans coaxed, but the Little Cloak only shook its hood harder, unmoved by all his enticements.

Watching the standoff, Alice cocked her head, then vanished in a flash of silver light, reappearing at the basin's edge. She peered inside. The basin was filled with plump, wriggling worms—translucent, glossy, and, to Alice's mind, surprisingly appetizing.

She bent down, ready to snatch one, but Evans gently blocked her with his hand.

"I'll get you something else later. You can't eat these—they'll give you a stomachache."

These worms had been raised on a special potion from the Lethifold manuscript, each one brimming with magic. For a Diricawl, it would be a recipe for disaster. But for a Lethifold, it was the perfect feast—nearly half a wizard's worth of magic in every bite, with none of the emotional baggage.

Evans turned back to the Little Cloak, still hovering uncertainly above the grass.

"Just try one. If you don't like it, you can spit it out. Deal?"

At last, the Little Cloak drifted closer, peering into the basin. The sight of those fat, wriggling worms tested its resolve. Was this really what it had signed up for when it followed this wizard? It used to eat mice—now it was being offered bugs?

But Evans's expectant gaze finally won it over. A wisp of shadow slipped from its hem, snatched up a worm, and, after a moment's hesitation, popped it into the folds of its cloak.

A few seconds passed. Then, the Little Cloak's entire posture changed. Its hood perked up, and a delighted shiver ran through its fabric.

Delicious!

In a frenzy, shadows erupted from beneath it, grabbing worms left and right, stuffing them into its body. Soon, it had flopped right onto the basin, devouring every last worm like a starving ghost. Evans almost stepped in, afraid it would choke from eating too fast.

When the feast was over, the Little Cloak floated back, radiating energy. It had never felt this strong before. Until now, it had only eaten mice and scraps of ordinary creatures—never monsters, never food so saturated with magic.

Evans smiled, satisfied. The manuscript's method was even more effective than he'd hoped. Of course, this couldn't be a daily meal—maybe once a week, at most. But in half a year, the Little Cloak might rival an adult Lethifold in magical power.

"All right," Evans said, leading the way to a patch of shade. "Let's train your abilities."

He waved his wand, and a drooping branch transformed into a mouse. The mouse blinked in confusion, then bolted for cover.

"Catch it—with your shadow."

The Little Cloak, now well-fed and eager, nodded enthusiastically. Wisps of black mist drifted from its hem, gliding after the mouse. The mist wasn't particularly fast, but it was quicker than the mouse, and soon it had wrapped the little creature up, dragging it back—though not without effort. The mouse struggled, and the mist trembled, nearly coming apart. The Little Cloak had to send out more tendrils, binding the mouse's limbs before it could drag it back to Evans.

Evans frowned. Something didn't add up. The manuscript called shadow manipulation a Lethifold's most important attack. But if his Little Cloak was struggling to catch a single mouse, what kind of assassin was that?

Maybe it just needed more practice. After all, it had only ever dealt with weak creatures before—ghouls and the like, easily enveloped and digested in a sneak attack. There'd never been any need for finesse.

"Try blending into the darkness again," Evans instructed, dispelling the mouse with a wave.

The Little Cloak, stung by the hint of disappointment in Evans's voice, puffed out its hood indignantly. Then, with a twist, it vanished—gone in an instant.

Evans's eyes widened. Even in broad daylight, the Little Cloak's merging ability was impressive; he couldn't sense it at all. But before he could finish his thought, the cloak reappeared in midair, its hem drooping in exhaustion.

Two seconds?

Evans stared. From vanishing to reappearing, it had lasted all of two seconds. What good was that? Even with perfect timing, dodging an attack took half a second!

Was this really the creature described in the manuscript? Was the gap between a cub and an adult truly this vast? Even dragons, with their enormous growth curve, weren't this fragile at five years old.

The Little Cloak, sensing Evans's skepticism, bristled with indignation. It still had another ability!

Evans listened as the Little Cloak tried to explain, and his silence grew heavier.

Absorption. Its last hope was eating.

Other Lethifolds manipulated shadows, controlled darkness, and could wipe out a town in a night.

His Little Cloak? It manipulated its feeding pouch, controlled its appetite, and still felt hungry after half a basin of worms.

Wasn't that a little embarrassing?

After a long moment, Evans shook his head, a glint of determination in his eyes.

"Again! I'm going to train you into a true Lethifold—no matter what it takes!"

[Chapter Complete]

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