Vesuvius spread his wings wide, his new body crafted from void and hyper-compressed matter as dark as night. It looked solid yet rippled like a reflection in a flowing river, igniting with purple star-like flas as he absorbed the relentless barrage from every direction.
Each assault lted into his purple fire, fueling him with even more energy. He had never felt as strong; he felt like the king of the world, capable of anything.
Yet, beneath the euphoria, a deep emptiness lingered within him, an emptiness he yearned to fill.
'Beco my power, pay for the trouble you caused.'
Releasing his hold, all light extinguished. Darkness enveloped the world as the gravity of his form intensified, drawing all light into the void within him. The already cracked ground shattered further, its fragnts flying toward him and vanishing into his expanding darkness, armies included.
Still, the void felt empty, making him want more.
'More...' His domain darkened further, gravity pulling more violently as chunks of the planet below tore away and spiraled into him. Each devoured ray of light, a gram of matter, the life of a being, and a molecule of air transford into raw energy within him.
Then, a flash of golden light transford the scene. He was back in the chamber where he had t the ancient dragon kings. The orbs of souls still floated above their thrones, which now resembled re piles of treasure.
He reflexively retracted his destructive domain, the darkness and the purple star flas subsiding back into his body.
'Right, I am not a pure dragon now...' Vesuvius montarily worried, dreading that he might be banished by his kind.
"Raise your throne and join the eternal council," bood the dragon god, his voice resonating with an intensity that imdiately dispelled Vesuvius's worries.
'Right, dragons never seed to care about Satanael's demonizing; they likely wouldn't care about the bit of void within . Voiddragon, Fallendragon, we are still dragons.'
One of the souls pulsed, a voice crackling like electricity, "I know what you think, but we dragons were always embodints of life and nature, and what symbolizes that more than adapting, changing, and evolving? As long as the change does not diminish the power of a true dragon and the dragon preserves our values, they remain a true dragon."
Vesuvius, ignoring the ramblings of the old dragons—as he finally felt no need to bow before them, having beco their equal, no, surpassed them as he still possessed a body!—approached a previously absent spot among the rings of thrones and hoards.
'As long as this throne stands, my soul will have a place to exist even without a body.' Though he already had thods to cheat death, he would not refuse another, especially if it ca with a fancy title and throne.
The dragon god's voice thundered once more, now infused with a ceremonial grandeur, "What title do you claim? Speak it, and let the mortals quake knowing that a new sovereign has ascended."
'Space-ti, stars, and void.'
"I am the Dinsional Voidstar Dragon King!" Vesuvius declared with a flourish, though a part of him mocked the grandiosity of the title.
The reddish soul, which belonged to the Satanael, pulsed, "An interesting choice, overly pompous and dramatic—befitting a dragon. Mine is Evil Fire Dragon King."
Vesuvius almost laughed at the ridiculous title, but he held back, not wanting to insult soone who had proved to be a good ally.
'As for my throne...' he knew exactly what to do. He separated a fragnt of his soul, a shard of his domain, and an orb of his celestial and void energy. Then, with a re thought, they coalesced into a dark pile of coins and gems, burning with purple and golden star flas.
'Curious; now, as a king, I can seemingly manipulate celestial energy.'
The dragon god's voice bood once more, now crackling with palpable excitent: "Excellent! Now that dragonkind has a monarch to lead our vanguard, we shall unleash war upon our foes. Behold!"
A map of Lorenia projected in the center of the throne ring illuminated their next moves. "While the gods have been distracted by your ascension, two of our legions have already struck: one led by the Grim Reaper of Murder, Thanatos, the other by the Sin of Gluttony, Beelzebub."
His voice grew thunderous, "We shall subjugate all of Lorenia and annihilate any who resist. We shall lay waste to the temples of our adversaries, execute the foolhardy mortal rulers who dared to oppose us, and strike down all! We will purge the world of our enemies! No rcy, no retreat!"
Then, his tone moderated, "However, after Thanatos and Beelzebub have passed, there may be nothing left to subjugate. So seize as many mortals as you can before they leave none remaining. We dragons need servants!"
These words, chilling and ominous, even unsettled Vesuvius. Lorenia was likely already devastated by years of conflict, but with these two monstrous forces unleashed, it promised only slaughter.
'Am I now the benevolent one? Saving people from certain death or worse?' Vesuvius burst into laughter, the irony of the situation overtaking him. He had never imagined he would return as a savior simply by being the least destructive of the three forces.
A random town:
POV A random guard guarding a random wall:
The cold wind whistled through the silent night, accompanied only by a clattering of tal armor. Soldiers stood on top of a tall city wall, looking at the mist crawling towards the walls through the fields.
"Sothing's not right—this mist, in this weather? It's unnatural," muttered one of the guards, his voice barely above a whisper. Beside him, Michael nodded, a deep unease settling into his bones.
His hand gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, the cold tal almost comforting against the growing fear. Glancing at the man next to him—his friend—he suddenly recoiled internally. An inexplicable hatred surged through him, distorting his thoughts: his friend's voice grated on his ears, his sll burned his nose, and his presence beca intolerable.
All around, the night erupted into chaos. Screams tore through the air, blending with the clash of tal as soldiers turned on one another in frenzied violence. Gripping his sword with blood-slicked hands, Michael dashed toward the nearest skirmish, a dark exhilaration driving him. "Motherfuckers, I will gut them! How dare they be so loud?!"
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