The hall was nothing like he expected, and if he’d known, he wouldn’t have bothered concealing his horns.
The so-called hall was empty. He was the only one there, or so he thought, until he noticed a strange-looking man standing quietly ahead.
The man was clothed in heavy, blackened armor that looked like something out of a primordial age, knight-like, but darker and more primal. His skin was pale, almost grey, and his hair hung wild over his shoulders like it hadn’t seen a comb in years. Two thick, jagged horns curved out of his skull, just like Drahon’s, only longer and rougher, like those of a mountain goat.
His eyes were strange. One shimmered an icy blue, while the other glowed gold. Both gazed at Drahon with an intensity that made his chest tighten.
Drahon took a step back, startled.
Why was he staring down a medieval knight with horns?
He looked around, blinking at the silence of the room. It didn’t feel like the "briefing chamber" they’d promised after Level Two. And this guy, he didn’t belong to any "staff team."
Then he noticed the beard. It was thick and untrimmed, like a Viking chieftain.
Everything just felt... off.
The man finally spoke, voice calm but commanding.
"I know what you’re thinking," he said. "You’re not supposed to be here."
Drahon clenched his fists, trying to stay grounded.
"But the lady in the hall said... after Level Two, players get briefed about the game world."
The man didn’t flinch. He simply snapped his fingers, and a chair appeared behind Drahon in a shimmer of golden dust.
Drahon froze, eyes wide.
"What the hell... How did you do that?"
"Consider this a dream," the man said, taking a slow step forward.
"A dream where you learn the truth."
Drahon narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if this guy was trying to be metaphorical, allegorical, philosophical, rhetorical, symbolical, poetical, or just straight-up weird. But if this was a dream, it felt way too real.
’I can feel my heartbeat,’ he thought. ’And also feel the floor under my feet... This isn’t a dream.’
"You were lied to," the man said calmly. "Back in the hall, the woman said you were chosen because you were special, gifted... She made it sound glorious. But that isn’t the real reason."
Drahon’s pulse quickened. He hadn’t even sat down. Curiosity had him locked in place. If he could fly, he’d be hovering from how much adrenaline was hitting him now.
"Dragon Game is more than a game," the man continued. "It’s a place where players are forced to fight weird creatures with their dragons and pretty much get themselves killed."
"Well... except you. You’re different. You carry dragon blood."
Drahon blinked hard, struggling to wrap his mind around everything.
"Then why hasn’t the game stopped you from telling me this? You’re breaking rules... spilling secrets."
The man smiled faintly. "Let’s just say I’m in your head."
Drahon didn’t move, his heart thudding harder now.
"There was a time when dragons and their wielders ruled this world," the man went on. "Two main factions: the Golden Dragons and the Legendary Dragons. Golden dragons held natural powers— fire, ice, water, wind... The elements that shaped the land."
"And the Legendary?" Drahon asked slowly.
"They weren’t of this world. Their dragons had twisted, otherworldly power. Some were demonic. Some divine. They didn’t follow balance, they sort of made it look normal, if that’s something. Eventually, both sides clashed in a war that burned half the world. Beings died and the world became dilapidated. And the dragons... were sealed in eggs and scattered across the lands."
He paused, then added, "But the war didn’t end naturally. Something ancient interfered and ended the war, turning the world into a game."
"The Dragon Game’s main reason for being created is unknown. But the same power that ended the war... built this new system. And no one knows why."
"After the war, people survived. Not many. A few were... like us. Half-dragons. Half-dragons were created a long time ago when, with some powerful magic, the dragon riders and wielders merged themselves with their dragons. Well, we might not be full dragons but we regard ourselves as dragons and that’s the reason for the ’Golden Dragon and the Legendary Dragon’ stuff."
"You, Drahon, are one of them. You’re no regular player. You’re a half-dragon and that is the reason for your horns."
"Random humans are occasionally invited into the game, but it’s mostly orphans, the hopeless, the forgotten. The thing is, if they summoned a normal kid with normal life and normal parents, it would be noticeable. But with you guys, society does not care about you guys."
Drahon finally sank into the chair, dazed.
"So what is the reason for level one?" Drahon asked.
"Level one isn’t where the game actually starts and that’s the reason your stats are tracked, level one is more of a trail, and any human that survives gets to really be in the game world."
Drahon paused as he thought really hard. All this seemed weird to him. It seemed unbelievable.
"So how do I identify a Legendary Dragon?"
"We Golden Dragons have horns while the Legendary Dragons have tattoos of dragons by their bodies."
Drahon was thinking really hard now.
He normally should be wondering how he came to be a half-dragon since his ’supposed’ parents were human beings.
But then, that wasn’t what he thought about. He actually decided he would think about that later. What was on his mind at the moment was the distinct qualities of two types of half-dragons.
A Golden Dragon had horns while a Legendary Dragon had a tattoo on their bodies.
When he first met Devon, he noticed a tattoo of a dragon by his arms.
That meant Devon was a Legendary Dragon.
That meant he was half-dragon.
No wonder he awakened an SSS Rank Demon Dragon. A Demon Dragon was pretty much ’otherworldly’.
But how was that possible?