Drahon’s eyes lingered on the runes glowing softly in the air before him.
His gaze flicked briefly toward the others.
Devon was curled up in the corner with his arms folded behind his head, breathing slow and deep. Ayvira had found a resting spot near the collapsed wall, one arm draped over her waist, her chest rising and falling steadily with sleep.
He turned back to the runes hovering only inches from his face.
There was no sound in the tower except the soft whisper of wind winding through broken stones and so he was certain the players wouldn’t notice if he activated the upgrade?
What was he thinking by the way, did he think he would receive some sort of transformation?
He expected it to be soundless, so that he wouldn’t even notice.
With a quiet breath, he thought the word:
[Upgrade Sequence Initiated.]
[System Response Detected – Draconic Upgrade activating ...]
Suddenly, a low hum filled the air, not loud enough to wake the others, but instead deep. Bone-deep. Like distant thunder wrapped under a sound restrictive force.
The runes before him glowed more vibrantly, and so did the space around him. They weren’t just ordinary runes now... Shifting. Glowing and crawling softly into his vision like light weaving through the darkness.
His muscles tightened involuntarily. Not from pain... but from a light, harmless pressure..Power was moving.
It was flowing inward, quietly and deliberately, spreading from his chest, down his arms, seemingly crawling through his blood. It seemed like gravity had tripled inside his body.
Golden threads of light laced through his arms. He clenched a fist without realizing it. His back arched slightly, then settled.
A faint aura gathered around him, not enough to wake the others, but enough to cause a ripple in the dust at his feet.
He saw it now: tiny golden runes spinning around his limbs. They crawled over his skin like a glowing script, branding nothing, yet marking everything.
His vision dimmed for a moment.
His senses twisted, then sharpened, like he was gaining consciousness.
Not in the way one might expect. There was no cinematic flash or burst, like when he activated his half dragon form.
But... he felt more and heard more. Even his own breath sounded louder and that was quite unusual.
The warmth from the egg still lingered in his chest, it felt awkward because it was long gone so why was he still feeling it?.
Even though it was no longer physically in his hands, its essence, its power was being integrated into him.
And then his mind jolted once. A final surge like a door slamming shut in the distance. The runes faded into the air like dust catching morning light... and vanished.
Silence returned but inside of him, everything had changed.
He lay back slowly, his fingers slightly twitching, every nerve humming.
There was tranquility and the knowledge that he was no longer the same.
Drahon closed his eyes and sleep came easily now.
Drahon had a dream and that prolonged the coming of morning.
He had this belief that sleep without a dream made the next day come faster but with a dream, it’ll be like you’re living another day.
Drahon found himself standing in the middle of a scorched field, the air thick with smoke and ash. The ground beneath his boots was fractured and glowing with thin, pulsating threads of lava. Above, the sky churned with crimson clouds, swirling around a dim, charred sun that seemed to burn without light. It was silent, eerily so, until the sound of wings split the air.
A massive shadow swept over him.
He could see a red dragon, easily the size of a fortress, descending from the clouds. Its scales shimmered like molten rubies, every flap of its wings sending shockwaves that rippled across the barren land. Its eyes fixed on him, burning, ancient, and filled with fury.
Drahon reached for his blade, the familiar weight of it grounding him. He didn’t know why he was here or what this beast was, but something deep inside told him: this dragon wasn’t just any normal one that flew by, it was after him.
The dragon roared, a deafening sound that shattered the silence and seemed to shake the world (in a dream-like state, it felt so).
Drahon dashed forward, dodging a blast of flame that erupted behind him. He leapt, slashing at one of the dragon’s wings, but his blade barely left a scratch. The beast swung its tail, catching him mid-air and slamming him into a pillar of blackened stone. Pain exploded in his chest.
He shot toward the dragon’s head, aiming for the eyes. This time, his blade struck true, just barely grazing the creature’s brow. It shrieked and reeled back, but it wasn’t enough.
The dragon’s claws slammed into him with brutal speed.
He flew through the air, rolling violently across the burning ground. His vision blurred. His body felt broken. But still, he stood, stumbling toward the monster again.
He was feeling great pain. Pain so seething, as he was laying down in the room, he was feeling it.
The dragon landed with a thunderous quake, its maw opening wide. Drahon raised his blade one last time.
But flames engulfed him and he felt a DYING pain.
Everything went white.
He shot upright with a gasp, drenched in sweat.
Ayvira, sitting near the tower wall, jolted in surprise. "What the hell?"
Devon glanced over from where he was sharpening his blade. "You okay. I was about to wake you up cos it’s been quite long since you’ve been asleep."
Drahon blinked, trying to catch his breath. His heart pounded like war drums in his chest. He hesitated for some seconds, trying to convince himself none of that was real, that it was all a dream.
But it felt so real and precise, even in detail. Back at the orphanage, his dreams had never been this detailed. It was seemingly like a Leonardo da Vinci type of artist painted the whole scene.
Like a superbly good video game artist drew the details.
He knew this was more than a dream...