Hundreds of thousands of years ago, the world changed.
A battle between two Gods that happened close by the planet brought about apocalypse. At least, that was the fragments of memories that Kaedros inherited from his host when he was reincarnated into the body of a Dragon.
In his previous life, he was a poor loser that was killed because his ex girlfriend broke up with him and he chased after her, only to get hit by a bus.
And then he reincarnated, only to be born as the runt to the Royal family of Dragons, weakness is like a disease the Dragon roya family so they banished him to the human territory.
A Dragon in the human world, what could go wrong?
After the fighting Gods left, the backlash of the power they unleashed made monsters to flood the world. Civilization fell and was reborn under new rules. Mana appeared, along with forbidden zones.
And those that could now use the power are called Ascendant.
To some, it was the end, but to most it was only the beginning.
Kaedros, a Noble Dragon, once had his place among the Dragons in the Draconic city. The city had been built after the war with humans, a sanctuary separated from everything else.
Each race kept to its own islands now as the ground below was filled with corrosive energies. Peace, if it could be called that, was maintained, except by the monsters.
Kaedros snorted. "And yet it’s humans who are the true savages," he muttered. "They even dare to call us monsters."
Had he still lived in the Dragon City, he would’ve been untouchable. Even the most zealous bounty hunters wouldn’t dare attack him there.
But he’d never truly belonged. It was almost as if they could smell something wrong with him and his weakness didn’t help either.
He was always the weakest among the Dragon princes. He couldn’t even hold territory among his own kind. Some ordinary Dragons bested him in open combat, and that shame had sealed his fate. He was cast out, exiled, thrown from the city and flunged away, a prince turned scavenger.
"At least down here... something still fears me."
The ruined flying ship was his now. Once overrun by monsters, he had cleared it himself. His battles with humans made him advance steadily as he took their mana from them, at least till the curse hit him. And the bodies had kept him well-fed.
If only his he didn’t have age cap on his Advancement, cursed limitations that demanded maturity before further evolution. The curse of the runt that his host was born with. Now his own.
"I can’t advance past rank two until I’m a hundred years old," Kaedros grumbled. "And I’m only thirty-eight in Dragon year. How am I supposed to survive sixty-two more years of this?"
He had long since adjusted his mentality to that of a Dragon and tried all his best to not get killed and survive. Only by thinking like the beast that ruled the sky had he survived so long in the Draconic city and its royal Court. But even that didn’t shield him for long.
His golden scale, once rich and glossy, had thinned. His skin was marked by countless scars. Even his horns had faded, worn dull by constant combat. His wings lay folded against his back, tattered and dry.
Still, they kept coming.
"How much is the bounty on my head?" he growled, kicking over a fallen hunter body. "Enough to die for? Over and over again?"
What mattered now was surviving the next few hours. He was low on mana in his core, bleeding from multiple wounds, and more hunters were approaching. He could already smell them as they drew closer, moving fast.
Running was always an option, but it was temporary and they would always find him.
And his pride... would never allow it. A Dragon running from humans?
"Option two, then," he muttered, limping across the ship. "Hiding."
He glanced at the dead Hunters. "Should I eat them?" His stomach growled at the thought, his mouth already watering. He wanted to feast, needed to. But there wasn’t time.
The bounty hunters were almost here.
He walked the flying ship opening, then Kaedros threw his head back and roared.
His voice, laced with Draconic power blasted through the entrance like a miniature tornado, rattling the air outside. At the same time, he crafted an illusion, a copy of himself, wings spread, eyes blazing. It wasn’t perfect he could so, but from a distance it would hold.
He sent the illusion soaring into the sky, away from the ship.
With luck, the hunters would see a fleeing demon and chase shadows.
Turning from the doorway, Kaedros limped toward his treasure hoard.
Coins stolen from merchant caravans ships, a few enchanted weapons pried from dead hunters, and books, his favorite trophies. He had collected them not for power, but curiosity.
He was fascinated by the strange world that was so unlike his own.
"A Dragon Prince should have more than this," he whispered bitterly.
He picked up a ring lying atop the pile. Infusing it with mana, the ring glowed faintly, then shimmered as it absorbed the hoard, everything but the books. His mana dipped as the treasures vanished inside the artifact. When it was done, he swallowed the ring whole.
Then came the final step.
It was a forbidden technique of the Dragon Clan. A technique that could be used by almost all Dragons but none of them would ever use it.
’..maybe I’m still affected by my human nature a bit..’
Kaedros hated the technique.
A Dragon Prince should wield mighty powers like Dragon Overlord, Soul Weapon, or Demonic Domain. Not... this.
But when he saw the technique in the library back in Draconic city, he’d taken it. Pride could be swallowed—temporarily.
He activated the technique, visualizing the magic formation in his mind.
Agony flared through him immediately.
His body twisted, bones cracking and reshaping. His wings dissolved. His horns crumbled. His skin softened. His tail vanished. The leathery strength of a Dragon was replaced with the trembling flesh of a human.
His Draconic aura varnished.
He could still feel them—buried, hidden beneath this fragile illusion. He was no longer a Dragon.
He looked down at himself.
Soft. Smooth. Vulnerable.
"How do humans survive ?" he muttered, horrified. "They can’t even sleep on a pile of coins."
His limbs jiggled. Fat and meat. The same kind he devoured.
"At least I look... average."
The transformation had wrecked his senses, overwhelmed him with new hormones and perceptions. His head throbbed, his vision spun. The very act of balance felt alien.
He took one unsteady step... then another.
And then he slipped, his foot squelched into gore, and he crashed to the ground.
Pain erupted through his fragile frame. He couldn’t breathe. He clutched his ribs and gasped, and then something new happened.
Salty tears streamed down his cheeks in great, shuddering sobs. The sounds were ugly, weak, raw.
"What the fuck... is this?"
He had seen humans cry before, he’d cried as human before. He’d dismissed it as weakness, he knew it as weakness. A reflex of the dying.
But now... it was happening to him.
A Dragon Prince, reduced to a weeping sack of flesh on the cold ship floor.
Pathetic, he thought, shuddering.