Lucas stood in silence at the altar.
The memory stone still lay on the ground, glimmering faintly. He picked it up, its surface cool against his fingers. No words escaped him—and none were needed.
Slowly, he turned, his steps echoing as he left the ancient temple.
As he stepped outside, a strange stillness greeted him. The air shimmered faintly, the sunlight warmer, the colors of the world richer, deeper. The trees swayed with reverence. The sky stretched wider. Everything felt… alive.
Yet, as Lucas stood there marveling at the beauty, something else unfolded.
Across the mountain, in the forests below and the village at its base, people and beasts alike froze. Birds took flight in wild patterns, animals cowered in their dens, and the villagers paused mid-task, dread building in their chests. A pressure they couldn't name pressed down on them like an invisible storm. Some fell to their knees. Others simply stared toward the peak of the forbidden mountain.
It wasn't rage or violence they sensed—but death.
"Something has awakened…"
"The mountain… it's cursed…"
Lucas, still lost in thought, only noticed the disturbance once his enhanced senses began to pick up the fearful murmurs below. His aura, once dormant, now bled into the world unchecked.
Realizing this, he sat and began to meditate. Ten minutes passed before he managed to suppress the tidal wave of presence bleeding from his soul.
His eyes opened slowly. If one looked closely, a distorted dome of transparent energy still clung to his form, as if reality itself remained wary of him.
"This much power… and I can't even walk without disturbing the world," he muttered. "If this is me in human form… what'll happen if I go half-dragon? Will I burn everything around me?"
He clenched his fists, grounding himself. "There must be a way to suppress this…"
His thoughts turned to his grandfather.
"You prepared so much for me… You had to have a solution."
And so, he began to descend the mountain. Slowly. Carefully. Each step measured, each breath restrained. Eventually, he reached the familiar path that led to his grandfather's house.
The stairs were just as he remembered—worn, wooden, with the faint creak of memory in every footfall. When he arrived, he paused.
The house… was clean. Too clean. As if someone still maintained it.
"Strange…"
He entered, senses sharpened beyond what was natural. He could hear every whisper in the village below, every heartbeat in the forest. It was overwhelming. Even the distant echoes of villagers' fear confirmed what he already felt—his presence terrified them.
He searched the house. Empty.
Until he reached that room.
The one filled with his childhood memories. His sanctuary.
No one had ever been allowed inside. Not even his parents. But his grandfather had never once stopped him. When he was younger, he hadn't understood why. But before he left, his mother had finally told him:
"Your father always wondered why he was never allowed inside. When I asked him why he didn't go in after your grandfather passed… he said, 'Because that room belonged to my father and my son. I was never part of it. And I won't break what they shared.'"
Lucas stood before the door for a long time… then opened it.
Nothing had changed. The books, the scrolls, the chaos, the scent of ink and dust. And in the middle of the room stood that same chair—what his grandfather once called his throne.
Lucas stepped toward it, brushing his hand along the edge, feeling every groove, every memory carved into its frame. Then he knelt—not as a dragon, but as a grandson.
"Thank you… Grandfather."
And that was when he felt it.
A hollow sound beneath the floorboards.
He tapped again, then carefully pried the wood away. Hidden beneath lay a thick, worn journal and a small velvet pouch.
Lucas picked up the journal first. The ink had faded, but the first line on the opening page still burned:
"They betrayed me."
"I gave them everything. My time, my strength, my blood. My brothers—Kael and Rhydan—and my only disciple, Fenric. I believed in them. Trusted them more than I trusted myself. And they used that trust to tear apart what we built together."
"I was born with nothing. My parents died in a beast tide that destroyed our village. I survived, hidden beneath a cart, clutching my mother's blood-soaked shawl. That day, I swore vengeance—not just on the beasts, but on the weakness that let them win."
"I climbed cliffs with bare hands to train. I hunted beasts with dull blades and studied forgotten languages by candlelight. I offered my soul to the pursuit of strength and knowledge. I walked alone through blood and ruin—and from it, I carved a path."
"Eventually, I found those three. We fought together, bled together. I called them brothers. I called him my son. I taught them everything I knew. They promised me loyalty. But greed is louder than gratitude."
"When I discovered the Soul Pearl, I intended to share it. Use it to build something eternal. But they feared my strength. They feared what I might become. So they took everything I built—and split it like scavengers dividing a corpse."
"Kael declared the Kingdom of Iron Veil, hiding behind steel and mercenaries. Rhydan built Emberfall, fueling his court with cruelty and fire. And Fenric—the one I loved as a son—created the Hollow Serpent Sect. He who once wept for the weak now spits on them."
"They even tried to erase me from history. But history remembers those who carve it into stone."
"I write this because I don't know how much time I have left. Not in body—but in peace. If you are reading this, then the shadows have stirred again."
Lucas's fingers trembled as he closed the journal. The wind outside stirred with him.
He glanced at the velvet pouch and opened it slightly. A faint glimmer of dull silver caught the light—a bracelet. He didn't know its purpose yet.
But a note beside it read:
"Your grandmother used this during her training. Inject your qi in it, you'll understand how to use it."
Lucas held the pouch to his chest.
No words. No tears. Just silence—loud and thunderous.
He looked back to the throne, his gaze sharpened now.
"I know what happened. And I know who is responsible. Now… they will pay."