[Scanning for viable restoration methods... none applicable.]
[No... an alternative path has been located.]
[Alternative solution accepted—preparing for the solution.]
[Commencing Partial Summoning of the Dragon Progenitors... from the Ancient Past.]
[System energy insufficient to complete Partial Summoning.]
[Searching for feasible means... feasible means found.]
[Contacting the Spirit of Death... Summoning: Drax.]
The Spirit of Death sat in silence, hidden deep behind the Dragon Soul and the Devouring Dragon Soul.
He dared not step forward—he could feel the overwhelming aura radiating from them.
To provoke them would be to invite erasure.
But it wasn’t just them.
He could sense even greater forces slumbering within Drakion himself.
And as long as he caused no disturbance, they would not act.
Suddenly, he noticed it—
Cracks beginning to form within Drakion’s Sub-Space.
A flood of blood surged through it—lethal, ancient, and wild.
A tide of pure malice.
The Spirit of Death instinctively moved closer to the Dragon Soul and Devouring Soul for refuge.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t defend himself—
But due to his Contract with Drakion, he was forbidden from interfering with this type of force.
That instinctive motion...
[Darius, Spirit of Death—your aid is required.]
A voice echoed inside his mind—cold, commanding, absolute.
It made him tense instantly.
He remembered that voice.
He didn’t know what it was or where it came from,
But it was the one thing he feared in this entire space.
He remembered its first warning the day he arrived:
"Maintain yourself. Do not overstep."
Now, it called again.
"What do you need my help for?" the Spirit of Death replied, his tone low and wary.
The young man’s mask was shattered by Drakion’s punch,
Sending him hurtling through the air, blood trailing behind him.
He hit the ground with a harsh roll, but quickly corrected himself—landing solidly on his feet.
Blood streamed from the wound on his face, where the punch had slightly caved the skin.
He touched it with a gloved hand, chuckled softly, and let Originat surge through his body—
The injury closed in seconds.
Everyone watched with shock.
His true face was now visible.
Sharp. Handsome. Chiseled like a warrior carved from divine stone.
But behind that beauty...
There was something terrifying.
A warmth that could embrace a friend—
And a cold malice that would annihilate an enemy without mercy.
"Dragon Emperor," he said with a smirk,
"It seems one truly can’t underestimate you."
His well-toned body was now exposed—
Their clash had torn away their upper garments,
But both had safeguarded their trousers.
After all... no one wanted to fight a battle naked.
Drakion’s upper body, too, was bare—
Black scales coiled over his skin like armor forged from abyssal storms.
With every breath, Originat was drawn into him, devoured through the scales.
The young man looked at him, eyes gleaming.
"It seems I’ll have to go full power... to face you properly."
The young man took a step forward, and in that instant, a massive wave of Draconic aura surged out. It slammed into the surroundings, pressing down on the others—
They could feel it clearly: the aura of Progenitor Dragons.
That aura carried with it both creation and destruction, and from within it, a Draconic eye manifested in the air—an illusion born of his power.
But this eye looked far more ancient, far more domineering, far more profound.
Draconic scales erupted and rapidly grew across his body—
Golden scales on the left, shimmering as if one could witness the birth of the universe within their radiant glow.
Black scales on the right, where one could see only the end, the collapse of all existence, like a reflection of the ultimate cycle.
On the left, a golden Draconic horn emerged—glorious and divine, like the source of all creation.
On the right, a black Draconic horn twisted forth—ominous and cold, like the origin of annihilation itself.
His reddish-white and blackish-blue eyes turned fully Draconic, exuding ancient authority, and with it, his aura surged to terrifying new heights.
A high-pitched Draconic roar tore through the heavens, as if shattering creation and destruction themselves.
Drakion responded in kind, releasing a low, guttural Draconic roar that felt as though it would devour all things—
As if nothing in the world could escape his hunger.
Two Progenitor Dragon Heirs stood face to face—
And then, in a flash, they vanished.
A sonic boom followed their disappearance, causing Kaidros, Ski, and Mia to stagger from the sheer pressure.
Then came another boom—
And then dozens more.
Within seconds, they had clashed countless times, their movements bringing ever-growing devastation to the landscape. Trees shattered, rocks split, and the earth trembled.
But amidst their fierce combat, the two black fangs within the Devouring Eye began to rotate.
Suddenly, the young man’s soul quivered—he felt something.
A power was creeping in...
To seize control of his soul.
He narrowed his focus immediately, torn between defending himself and facing Drakion in battle.
Even after activating his Progenitor Dragon Bloodline, those eyes were still working against him.
It wasn’t just power.
It was something else.
"What kind of eyes are those...?" he asked inwardly.
It wasn’t suppression.
And if not for Drakion’s currently weakened state, which limited the eye’s true power, the young man feared to imagine what might have happened to him.
Drakion, sensing the opportunity, struck—his fist slammed into the young man, sending him stumbling back.
But the young man’s scales absorbed the force, and not a single injury marred his body.
The Five Element Dragon narrowed his eyes, watching the battle with a deep frown.
His gaze locked onto Drakion’s eyes, filled with uncertainty and intrigue.
"What kind of eyes... can affect even a Progenitor Heir to this degree?"
The young man, still calm despite the blow, analyzed Drakion silently.
His gaze sharpened, and behind his silence, he was beginning to form theories—
Slowly, he extended his hand to the side—and with a flash of light, a weapon formed in his grasp.
And the weapon was...