Lucas took one final breath as he stared at the orb in his palm. The silence around him had shifted—it wasn't calm. It was watching. Holding its breath. Waiting.
With a bite to his finger, he drew blood—a single, trembling drop.
He let it fall.
The moment it touched the orb, the world changed.
A pulse burst outward—silent, but immense. The stars within the orb flared, spinning faster until they collapsed inward. Then, in a flash of abyssal blue and starlit black, the orb vanished—
—into him.
Lucas staggered as a surge of force struck his chest—not like a hammer, but like the weight of the cosmos folding into his soul. There was no pain. Just... immensity.
The orb had fused with his soul, embedding itself in the deepest part of his being. A celestial seed—dormant, but alive.
His vision blurred. His senses stretched. Every breath he took resonated with the stars. His body didn't feel like his own anymore—it felt like a vessel on the verge of something ancient.
The Eclipsing Soul Orb had accepted him.
And the storm had only just begun.
He turned to the scroll of the Chaos Arts. His hands, trembling but steady, unrolled it with reverence.
As his eyes met the first symbol, the characters ignited—glowing silver-white, lifting off the scroll, spiraling through the air, and burning themselves into his consciousness. Knowledge flooded his mind—not like reading, but remembering.
The Chaos Arts weren't just techniques.
They were truth.
They were the path to becoming.
Then came the final step.
Lucas reached for the vial.
The dragon blood.
It pulsed, alive—deep red, almost black, glowing faintly like the heart of a volcano. The moment he opened it, the scent hit him—a scent older than time, powerful enough to drown the sky.
He drank.
And the world shattered.
It was like swallowing the sun.
The dragon blood scorched through him, ripping through every cell like wildfire. His muscles locked. His veins bulged. His heart stuttered, then roared to life like a thousand war drums.
Lucas screamed—his voice echoing through the stone temple like a beast in agony.
His body twisted, convulsed, cracked. Blood spilled from his lips, his skin steamed, bones fractured and reformed. His very soul trembled.
He clawed at the ground, pain searing through him like blades dipped in lightning. The blood was not accepting him. It was remaking him.
He collapsed.
Vision fading.
Breath shallow.
Strength—gone.
He could feel it: he was going to die.
He lay there, trembling, body half-charred, the transformation unfinished. His core faltered. His consciousness dimmed.
And then—he heard it.
His grandfather's voice.
"There will come a time, Lucas… when your strength fails, and the world turns cold. When every bone screams to give up—that is when you rise. That is when you remember who you are."
"You are my grandson. You do not kneel to pain. You conquer it."
Tears mingled with blood on Lucas's cheeks.
His fingers twitched.
"I won't stop…" he whispered. "Not now… not after everything you gave me…"
"I will rise—for you."
In that moment, the Eclipsing Soul Orb flared within his soul.
A wave of blue-black energy surged outward, weaving through his broken body. It didn't ease the pain—it gave him the strength to endure it. The orb had seen him fight. Seen him refuse to give in.
And it responded.
Energy flooded through him—not from the world, but from within.
The chaos stabilized.
The dragon blood accepted him.
Lucas rose.
Slowly. Shakily.
But he rose.
And at the center of his being, something formed.
A vortex.
A core.
The Chaos Core.
Forged from agony and will.
Spinning with the essence of destruction and rebirth.
The Chaos Dragon Body was complete.
Lucas stood tall as the storm settled. And for the first time… he felt it.
The change.
His body had transformed—forever.
His height had increased by half a foot. Muscles hardened, power coiled beneath his skin like a caged tempest. His hair had deepened to a shade of obsidian laced with silver-blue strands, shimmering faintly in the light. His eyes burned—one gold like dragonfire, the other blue like the abyss. Together, they glowed with untamed will.
Along his back and arms, intricate scales gleamed beneath his skin, etched with ancient runes. His aura was no longer human. It was something more.
Something that watched back when the heavens gazed upon it.
Human Form: Lucas looked human—but only at a glance. He now exuded a natural pressure, a subtle gravity. His movements were fluid, precise, dangerous. Every glance held weight. Every breath, force.
Half-Dragon Form: With a thought, he could shift.
Scales burst forth—dark sapphire and obsidian, edged in glowing red. Twin horns curved back from his temples, jagged and regal. His hands became claws, arms elongated with monstrous strength. From his back, ethereal wings stretched wide—half energy, half reality, crackling with chaos lightning.
His voice deepened, laced with an echo of something ancient.
This form was a warform—made for battle, domination, and fear.
True Dragon Form: He hadn't summoned it yet.
But in his soul—he remembered.
A colossal serpent-like dragon, nearly thirty meters long. Scales like starlit armor. Wings that swallowed the sky. Six horns crowning a royal, monstrous head. A tail ending in a hooked blade of chaos flame. And eyes—his twin irises—calm, ancient, eternal.
A true beast of calamity.
A storm given flesh.
Lucas clenched his fist. The wind around him had changed.
He had changed.
"Grandpa…" he whispered, looking toward the sky. "I'm ready now. I'll make them remember your name. I'll make them tremble at mine."
Beyond the temple, far across lands forgotten and forbidden, something stirred.
Cultivators paused mid-training.
Beasts growled at nothing.
The sky dimmed for a heartbeat.
A dragon had awakened.
And the world would never be the same again.