479 The Fire Dragon
POV Pyromaniac:
The silhouette in the red robe descended down the spiraling staircase, seemingly leading into a black void. His crimson-red robe rustled, and his draconic hearing pounded with each step he took.
'Temperature is rising...' He noted that with each step, the frigid atmosphere slowly retreated, gradually turning into heat.
'What will be my reward? Hopefully, something to make my flames hotter.' His greedy, draconic heart couldn't help but constantly make his thoughts spiral toward his upcoming reward.
At last, he reached the bottom, facing a pair of massive enchanted doors forged out of polished, mirror-like steel. His thoughts returned to the physical world—he had no time to be distracted as the master of fire awaited him.
"Enter my minion!" The familiar voice of the dragon boomed, bouncing between the stone walls.
Pyromaniac straightened his robes one last time and pushed the gate open.
His eyes widened as he felt like he floated in the void of the cosmos. The pitch blackness and absence of light were perpetrated by the colorful stellar nebula, with a distant spot radiating with the scorching heat of stars.
The light refracted, forming illusions and reflections—it was as if he stood beside a star devoured by a black hole. Yet, the destructive forces seemingly ignored him, preserving his life.
"Your majesty!" He immediately fell on his knees.
"Minion, you have served me well. However, your time as my minion comes to an end."
Terror clutched the pyromaniac's heart, despair filling him like a river of bubbling magma. The questions pounded in his head with the force of a hammer against an anvil. 'How did I fail? What did I do wrong?'
He pressed his head against the scorching, hot black stone of the floor, despairing that he wouldn't see the flame, the dragon, grow stronger.
'I guess there will always be a time when a pyromaniac becomes fuel for their flames...' He raised his head, ready to make his last request before being abandoned by his master—he wanted to be burned by the hottest flames of the dragon lord and feel their loving embrace.
The dragon's voice boomed again: "You deserve to become not only kin of my blood and my servant but also kin of my soul and my vassal."
The stellar nebula flared with radiation and power, glowing with energy surging through it as a tiny glowing fragment manifested in its depths, slowly flowing closer and closer to the kneeling pyromaniac.
His heart burned with desire, and all his despair immediately sizzled out as he stared at it, reaching and grasping with his arms the thin air as if trying to speed up the light's approach.
"You have done me a great service and brought me knowledge that I desired the most
—the knowledge that will lead to my ascend."
'It must be for that quest with the black crystal...'
The dragon continued, "You will no longer be just a false dragon spawned through my divine blood. Instead, you will ascend to become a true dragon, the most glorious and powerful race to ever walk this world!"
Suddenly, the fragment turned into a streak of light as it shot straight for his heart so quickly that he couldn't even blink.
Ding!
//
You have absorbed the divine-rank, race-changing item: Soul fragment of a true dragon!
//
POV Vesuvius:
The dragon watched in curiosity as flames enveloped the man, slowly turning into the shape of an egg.
'The first player to ever become a dragon. Well, except for me.'
Vesuvius was someone who could appreciate his minions, and the one before him was without question one of the most loyal and fanatical ones even before the effects of his blood reached his real body.
'I wonder to what kind of dragon you would turn.'
It was the benefit of his last evolution and his two souls. As he could use his star to heal his two souls, he could now start to spawn more dragons at a greater pace.
'When the news of this spreads, it will make players go insane.' He even felt quite amused at the thought.
Vesuvius glanced one last time at the egg before he closed his eyes and refocused on the golden piles hidden beneath his massive body.
'Time to go back to work.'
In the meantime, on the border wall:
POV Fanatic Bobo:
In the advancing tide of the light-clad army, Bobo was just another foot soldier. He didn't wear any distinctive insignia, and his shiny silver armor blended seamlessly with the ranks of his fellow soldiers.
His eyes, glowing with a fanatic light, were fixed on the imposing wall, with cracks forming in its dark facade after days of relentless bombardment.
"For the god of light!" He screamed in his full lungs! " As the mana-laser beams cleaved through the air, striking down the figures around him. The soldiers died, incinerated out of existence as the beams left only patches of molten lava in their traces.
The explosions were blinding, the sound deafening, but his stride did not falter as he pressed forward toward the looming mass of stone, his angelic blood shielding his mind from the pain. The waves of heat washed over him and burned his skin, but he didn't falter, knowing he had to save the heathens from themself.
"For the light!" He yelled again, ignoring the clouds of ash that used to be his friends.
The dark knights stood atop the wall in dark runic armor and fluttering red capes, making his heart pound with infinite mercy.
"Servants of the evil ancient gods, let's save them with the power of the light!" He screamed his thoughts aloud again.
With each step, he chanted the battle cries, his voice steady amidst the screams and destruction. "For the light, for our cause!" he repeated, as the angelic blood coursing in his veins boiled with zealotry.
Suddenly, a bright glow ruptured the dark clouds, accompanied by horns.
Bobo stared up, a maniacal grin forming under his silver, full-face helmet—the rays of light showering his body, healing all his tiredness and burn marks. 'Angels are here! We will smite the heathens together, from the ground and from the heavens!'
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