After the message ended, the memory stone dimmed. Lucas stood motionless, staring at the empty space where his grandfather's projection had been. The flickering echoes of the old man's voice still lingered in his ears, as if the room itself refused to forget.
He stood there silently, letting everything wash over him.
In the span of a few hours, his world had changed forever. He had come here searching for answers, hoping to uncover the truth about his grandfather. But what he had received was beyond anything he could have imagined—the existence of the Immortal World, his transformation into the first Chaos Dragon, and the incomprehensible power now coursing through his body.
Lucas exhaled slowly. He always felt stronger than others his age—faster, sharper, more resilient. He had chalked it up to his grandfather's harsh training and discipline. But now it made sense. His body had been overflowing with Chaos Energy from the start.
He recalled the passages in the Chaos Arts. It was written clearly—when the body absorbs Chaos Energy to its limit, a core must be formed, or the body will collapse from within.
Lucas's face paled. "If I had delayed even a little... if I had come tomorrow instead of today…" he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow, "...I would've met grandfather in heaven."
"Stupid old man," he whispered with a laugh, remembering all the crazy stunts his grandfather used to pull. How many times had he almost regretted asking the old man to train him to be an archaeologist?
But now he understood. His grandfather never cared for mortal archaeology. All the languages he was taught—forgotten scripts, strange symbols, lost dialects—they weren't relics of earth's history. They were from the Immortal World.
Whenever Lucas had questioned him, the old man would give a cryptic response or scold him to stay focused. "Foolish brat, don't ask so much. Read, memorize, write."
Lucas smiled, looking down at his hands. The power he felt was overwhelming. He glanced at the surface of the altar and caught his reflection. His appearance had changed—his physique now more refined, height slightly increased, and even his aura... it was otherworldly.
He moved to stretch and warm up but took one step too fast and smashed into the wall nearby.
The impact cracked the ancient stone, dust falling around him.
"Okay... forgot how to walk," Lucas muttered, brushing off the debris. "Nice."
Even though he didn't feel pain, the shock of destroying a wall that had stood untouched for centuries left him blinking. "This strength is insane..."
He sighed. "How the hell am I going to explain this to Mom and Dad?"
His body had already been stronger than average, but now it was in a realm of its own. His aura alone was enough to make mortals uncomfortable. He was no longer just a gifted young man. He was a dragon—a creature of life, death, and chaos.
"Great," he said dryly, "I'm basically a walking disaster for my own family."
Then his thoughts turned serious. There were still two important questions haunting him—who were his grandfather's enemies, and how was he supposed to enter the Immortal Realm?
He walked back toward the altar, lost in thought.
While Lucas was lost in thought, piecing together the chaos of the last few hours, he failed to notice the subtle glow flickering from the memory stone. It seemed… his grandfather had left him something more.