Chapter 135: 135. The Final Return
The dungeon spat him out like a wound finally closing.
Owen stumbled onto the plateau, his legs barely holding him. Behind him, the gate flickered once, twice, then collapsed inward with a sound like breaking glass. The third Story dungeon had finally co to an end. The third fragnt was his.
He stood alone for a mont, breathing the cold mountain air, letting the present reality settle around him as he Resolved in his find what path he was about to take now. No wounded sky. No armies marching. No Will pressing against his existence. Just wind, stone, and the distant cry of birds.
Then Yuki hit him.
She crossed the distance before he could speak, her arms locking around his neck, her face buried against his chest. Uru pulsed wildly on her shoulder, its light flaring with relief.
"You were gone for days," she said into his armor. "For days, Owen."
"It felt like years." His arms ca up around her. "I’m here."
Leah appeared at his side, her amber eyes scanning him for wounds, her posture still combat-ready despite the absence of threats. "The dungeon. Did you get it?"
Owen nodded. "The third fragnt. It’s done."
Odessa exhaled from sowhere behind him. Alfred’s quiet presence registered at the edge of his awareness. Caelen and Hilda stood apart, watching, waiting.
He released Yuki and turned to face them all.
---
They made a camp site at the plateau’s edge, near where Hilda’s stabilizers still humd with residual energy. The fire was small, no need for heat, just focus. Owen sat in the center, the others arranged around him as he told them everything.
Not the full depth, there wasn’t ti for every detail of death, every battle, every mont of grief. But the shape of it. The war that had consud Drak’thar. Vorthraxx’s sealing. The three armies converging. The grater Dragons fall. The Will’s awakening. Celestials erased. Demons sealed. Dragons— all but one—deleted from existence.
He told them about Dominus, waking in the empty shelter, scattering his power into three fragnts, sending the last egg into the tistream.
He told them about the egg. About what it had beco.
"That egg..." Leah said quietly. "...was you!?."
"Yes."
The fire crackled. No one spoke for a long mont.
Caelen broke the silence first. "The druids’ records ntion sothing like this. A great erasure. They called it the Silence. No one knew what it ant exactly." He looked at Owen. "Now we do."
Hilda was checking her stabilizers, but her hands had stopped moving. "Dominus scattered his power. Three fragnts. Three Story Dungeons." She looked up. "You’ve walked through all of them."
"The Shadowgrave. Vorthraxx’s past. This one." Owen nodded. "I’ve seen it all."
"And the Will?" Odessa asked. "It’s still asleep?"
"For now. But the seal on Vorthraxx is weakening. The demon generals are active. When he breaks free—and he will break free—the Will may wake again, to correct another wrong. The incoming war will be as worse"
"So we’re on a clock," Alfred said.
"We’ve always been on a clock." Owen stood. "But now we know exactly what we’re racing toward."
---
He opened the dinsional tear without ceremony.
The air shifted. Reality parted. And Drak’thar lay on the other side.
Not the war-torn ruin he’d walked through in the dungeon’s mory. Not the empty shell he’d first inherited from Dominus. Sothing else. Sothing awake.
The Hatchery pulsed with a golden light, its walls repaired, its heart beating. The Tower of Royals glowed at its peak, runes cycling through activation sequences, mana being absorbed and rearranged within it. The gardens were still dead, but still waiting and had begun to show signs of life. Green shoots pushing through black soil. Roots reaching toward light.
And in the sky, where once there had been nothing, a thick surge of mana moved.
Not dragons. Not yet. But potential. The pocket dinsion itself seed to breathe, to stretch, to know that it was no longer empty.
Yuki stepped beside him. "Owen—"
"It’s working." His voice ca out rougher than he intended. "All of it. The fragnts, the mories, the war...it was all to bring us here. To this mont."
Leah moved to the threshold, her hand hovering at the edge of the tear. "What happens now?"
"Now we build." Owen turned to face them. "Drak’thar is ours. The Hatchery can produce eggs. The Tower can train new Greaters. The gardens can grow." He looked at each of them. "The demon generals are still out there. Vorthraxx’s seal is weakening. The Will may wake again. But we have sothing they don’t."
"What?" Odessa asked.
"A ho." He stepped through the tear.
---
Drak’thar’s air was different from the plateau’s. Cleaner, older, charged with mana that hadn’t been touched by the mortal realm in centuries. The light was softer, the colors deeper. It felt like standing inside a held breath.
The others followed. Yuki first, then Leah, Odessa, Alfred, Caelen, Hilda. Uru pulsed with excitent, extending pseudopods to taste the dinsional air.
They walked toward the Hatchery.
The building dominated the central island now, its walls no longer cracked and dark but gleaming with veined light. As they approached, the doors swung open, not forced, not chanical, but welcoming. Recognizing its master.
Inside, the chamber was transford.
The nests that had been empty for a thousand years now held light. Not materialised eggs yet, but the potential for them. The Hatchery was awake.
Owen placed his hand on the central console and Power flowed through him, through the Hatchery, through Drak’thar itself. He felt the pocket dinsion respond, felt its rhythms synchronize with his heartbeat.
"These Three fragnts..." he said quietly. "That’s what it took. The egg that made . The mories that have showed
where I ca from and The past war that has taught
what I’m... should be fighting for."
Yuki ca up beside him. "What now?"
"Now, we prepare for the generals, for Vorthraxx and for whatever might co after him." He looked at her. "But we’ll do it here. Together."
Outside, The empty sky waited for wings that would one day fill it.
But for now, this was enough.
The last dragon king had co ho and had now prepared for a resurrection of his species.
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