The chamber was quiet, but not empty. Smoke curled lazily in the air. Artorius' fingers dug into the cracked floor as he forced himself to stand, his breathing ragged. He did not look triumphant. There was only exhaustion. And yet, his job was not done, it was never over, others were still alive.
The remaining Royal Dragons, the Psychic, Twilight, Dawn, and Ocean hovered just beyond the main devastation, their forms battered, torn, but intact. Their expressions were harder to read through dragon scales and creased, burn-marked hides, but the truth was undeniable. Fear. Cowed compliance. Awe, perhaps, mingled with disbelief.
Twilight and Dawn, their once-brilliant scales dulled, wings clutched close to their bodies as if protecting themselves from the memory of everything they witnessed. Their eyes, wide and unblinking, locked on Artorius with something like terror.
Ocean, still dripping from shattered water forms, remained silent, shifting his weight from claw to claw, calculating, waiting but there was a clear difference in the way she did not advance, did not strike, did not challenge. Psychic, though less visibly shaken, kept his head lowered, sensing and submitting to the raw power still emanating from him and what was in him.
Artorius took a slow, deliberate step forward. Each movement was measured, weighed. He could feel Zytherion's consciousness flickering inside him, vast and patient, observing the reactions of these hatchlings.
Twilight's voice broke first, small and almost brittle. "We… we yield." The word carried more than submission. It carried fear. Dawn's reply was only a whisper, yet it carried the same tone: "…Yes. We recognize you."
Ocean, ever slower to speak, inclined her head. "It seems as if fate favored you today." The Psychic dragon did not speak at all, only bowed, and the very act of lowering his head all that was needed to be said.
Artorius did not respond immediately. He did not need to. The gesture alone was sufficient. Each of the remaining Royal Dragons lowered themselves onto one knee and bowed to him. The sight was not comforting. It was not satisfying. It was a recognition of power. Recognition of his might. The air hung heavy with the weight of submission, and yet a part of him felt hollow.
He turned slowly, scanning the ruined expanse of the Heart. Beyond the immediate circle of the remaining dragons, the army of lesser dragons that had once served the many royal dragons now hesitated. The battlefield had become a strange amphitheater, the survivors frozen between relief and awe. Then, as if a dam had broken, they erupted. Shouts echoed through the ruined chamber that were of his name.
"ARTORIUS! ARTORIUS! ARTORIUS!" The sound rolled like thunder, vibrating along the walls. The dragons' voices were like an endless cascade. He stood, tall, chest heaving, and allowed himself a moment to look over them. His gaze swept across the broken ranks. They were loyal for now, not by choice, but by the undeniable clarity of who held power here.
The cheers filled the air, leaving a lingering echo that vibrated deep inside his chest. And then he heard coughing. He turned slowly, letting his eyes sweep across the rubble. There, among fractured crystals and shattered flesh of the Heart's architecture, a faint figure stirred. The Fragrance Dragoness.
She coughed again, shakily, and for a moment, she could not even lift her head. Her wings twitched weakly, scales dulled, eyes half-lidded with pain. Yet she was alive. Artorius came up to her as she lifted her gaze to meet his.
"So the mouse is victorious in the end. The irony of it all."
Artorius said nothing as he stood there. The fragrance dragon forced herself with whatever strength she had left to look at the ruined mess of what was left of the Gem dragon. "End me," she said.
Artorius did not move, he knew he should finish her off but his consciousness warred with his practicality. The probability dragon only snorted in derision at him in his mind. The fragrance dragon saw the inner turmoil going on and spitefully whispered, "I will do everything in my power to end you. Don't think for a moment if you let me live I will forget all you have done."
With his last strength he could pull off, Artorius gave her what he wanted and let a heroic blow finish her off. The acknowledgement appeared immediately.
You have slain[Royal Fragrance Dragonling — Level 40]
Congratulations! You have leveled up. Class: [Storybook Squire] → Lv. 37
Stat gains: +1 Str, +1 Con, +1 Will, +1 Char, +1 Luc!
Artorius let the words settle, feeling each stat shift ripple through him. The remaining Royal Dragons continued to kneel. He felt so alone, a prisoner to his victories. If only his friends were here.
Then, amidst the silence that followed, a new sound reached him. Heavy, resonant footsteps, the cadence of an army arriving with measured precision. He lifted his gaze to the horizon, eyes narrowing as he recognized familiar forms approaching: allies he had longed to see, warriors he had counted on in darker days, now marching through the debris of battle.
His new army he gained turned towards them and even though they had been through many fights they still outnumbered the new force many times over and outgunned it as the royal dragons stood ready to face this new threat.
"Calm down," he called out. "I know them. Let them through." His new very powerful vassals passed down his message as his army parted to let through. At their forefront moved a group of familiar faces: Ouroboros, Shiun, Raijin, Zoklath, Viserion… the sky dragon?!
The ragtag army they had which was made of a bunch of troublemakers stopped before the heart as only they came up. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Well we came to rescue you," Ouroboros answered. "However it looks like you don't need it."
Raijin looked at all the corpses and whistled, "Don't tell me you did all that?"
Artorius did not answer, but quickly changed the topic. "How did you even come all the way down here?"
"We just followed the trail of carnage you all left behind," Viserion answered.
Then looking at the sky dragon who stood off to the side, he asked, "And why is she with you?"
"It's a long story." Shiun answered.
Zoklath just stated, "We beat her."
"There is so much we can talk about later, but how are you doing?" Ouroboros asked.
"I'm fine," he said, voice steady and resolute. But the lie hovered between the ruins, fragile and half-believed even by him.
Their reunion was interpreted by someone clearing their throat. Turning around, Artorius found the asteroid dragon elder standing there. However, it no longer had the form of an old dragon… instead now he was a large looming form with slow-turning constellations. Stars glimmered in the lattice of its scales. A nebula pulsed within the soft glow of its throat.
Image: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/3307399718842177/
"Congragulations on your victory, Artorius," the dragon spoke.
"Let me guess you are the Star sovereign blooded dragon?" Artorius asked. He didn't even have to ask as his guess was verified when he inspected the dragon.
[Imperial Star Dragonling — Level 46]
"Yes, you are correct," the dragon didn't even hide. He watched from the corner of his eye as the royal dragons that now followed him took a step back at his admission. He wondered why they were so fearful. With all of them here and their great army they could take the dragon, imperial or not. It was a mistake of it to come here all by itself.
"So why have you revealed yourself now?" Ouroboros questioned already connecting the dots on what was going on.
"I have some mad news for you," the dragon answered. "The others are on their way."
"What do you mean?" Artorius began but he soon got his answer when there was some trembling in the corpse.
'Well that is not good,' Zytherion whispered in his mind. Artorius felt it before he truly understood it.
The corpse of the Probability Dragon Emperor, Zytherion's former body began to resonate. The ruined flesh beneath their feet hummed as if struck by an invisible tuning fork. The endless battles that raging up and down it had barely done anything to it but now what had arrived shook it.
Artorius lifted his head slowly. The air had thickened, not with pressure but with presences. It pressed against his scales, his thoughts, his soul. Even Zytherion's vast consciousness stilled, like an old predator sensing rivals entering its territory.
Above the corpse-sky, reality folded. Six figures appeared there, each one a different shape, a different aspect. He could tell right away they were the Imperial Dragons but it was not them that stirred the corpse.
It was what was piloting them. He saw it in their eyes, the same look he must have when he gets taken over by some long dead Great Dragon. Their parents. The Dragon Sovereigns. Emperors. Empresses. Using their hatchlings as avatars.
The first was the Summer Dragon. Her form burned into existence like sunrise forced through a blade's edge. Gold and white scales radiated unbearable warmth, her wings were like noon light. The air brightened simply because she existed.
The second was the Life Dragon. His scales flowed like living forests, branches sprouting and retracting across his form, roots coiling in impossible patterns along his wings.
The third was the Space Dragon. She arrived sideways, sliding into reality as though the universe had misaligned and she had stepped through the crack.
The fourth was the Dream Dragon. She did not fully exist. Her outline wavered, horns half-formed, wings fading in and out like remembered images upon waking.
The fifth was the War Dragon. He arrived with sound. A deep, grinding thunder rolled across the corpse as he stepped forward, iron-red scales layered like forged plates. Every movement carried the weight of conquest. His wings were scarred banners, torn not by age but by countless wars survived.
And last the Plague Dragon. She did not roar. She did not glow. She did not announce herself. Where she perched, life thinned. Her scales were pale, sickly iridescent, like oil on stagnant water. The air around her grew still, heavy, reluctant to move. Spores drifted from her wings.
Zytherion laughed when he saw them all. The sound rolled through Artorius' chest, deep and amused. "Ah. It's so good to see such familiar old faces!" Artorius felt his body lift. Not by his will.
Zytherion took control smoothly, gently, as if slipping on a familiar coat. Wings spread, and Artorius' body rose above the battlefield, floating upward until he hovered level with the Imperial Dragons.
Looking at them each in turn he came to realize why the royal dragons feared them so when old monsters could show up in their body when they felt like it, it was no longer a fair fight. The Imperial Dragons' eyes all turned toward him.
And then they spoke as one their six voices layered with older ones, harmonizing with ancient power. "Zytherion." The name struck like a verdict. Just from their tone, Artorius could tell they did not like the old dragon and he wished they could save him for it but he doubted it.
The Summer Dragoness's eyes burned brightest. Her voice rang clear, melodic, and merciless. "Did you truly lack the decency," she asked, "to remain dead?"
Zytherion threw Artorius' head back and laughed. "Oh, my radiant dear," he said warmly. "You know me better than that. Life is far too interesting to give up."
The warmth around her dimmed slightly. The Life Dragon Emperor spoke, his voice deep and resonant, like roots grinding through stone. "You interfere," he said. "This Nest is not your dominion. These are our affairs."
Zytherion inclined Artorius' head politely. "Unfair? If I recall correctly you all tossed me down here."
Space folded as the Space Dragon Emperor leaned closer, his presence distorting the void between them. "Why," he asked calmly, "are you meddling in the children's kiddy pool, old dragon? It is unbecoming."
Zytherion sighed theatrically. "Such disrespect. I remember when you still struggled with three dimensions." The tension spiked. Reality groaned. Then Zytherion raised one hand placatingly. "Fine. Fine. Fine." He smiled through Artorius' face. "I will cease interfering in the affairs of the Dragon Nest." He said giving them some leeway since he knew he could not take them all on.
"But," Zytherion continued, tone sharpening just a little. "In return, you will not interfere in mine. I don't want to crush your precious little children here." The corpse of the old dragon stirred furthermore and just for a fraction it opened its eyes.
"I hold reign over here and with just a lift of my claw I can wipe out this whole Nest if you push me. There is nothing you can all do to stop me unless you come down here personally but by then it will be too late."
The Imperial Dragons stilled.
The Dream Dragon Empress tilted her half-formed head. Her voice echoed strangely, as if spoken from behind Artorius' own thoughts. "And pray tell," she asked softly, "what are you up to, Zytherion?"
Zytherion chuckled. "No can do, my dear."
The War Dragon Emperor's laughter boomed, harsh and approving. "If your meat puppet can survive our children," he said, "then do as you wish."
Zytherion hesitated. Just a fraction. The Plague Dragon Empress noticed. Her eyes narrowed, pupils dilating like spreading infection. "Do you doubt," she asked sweetly, "that your new servant can stand against them?"
Artorius felt Zytherion's awareness tighten. Dragons were sharks. Weakness was blood. Zytherion smiled broadly, confidence flooding his posture. "No," he said easily. "Not at all."
The Summer Dragon Empress inclined her head. "Then we have an accord."
"I rather not waste my time on this petty affairs down here," the Life Dragon stated. "Don't make me come over here Zytherion to put you down for good."
"Of course," the dead dragon smiled.
With their agreement made, one by one, the Sovereigns withdrew. The vast presences peeled away from the Imperial Dragons like shadows at dusk. The air lightened only slightly. The Imperial Dragons remained, now fully themselves, but the echo of their parents still lingered within them like aftershocks.
They turned toward Artorius. Six pairs of eyes. Pure hostility.
The Life Dragon's expression hardened. "You are an abhorrent abomination on the cycle."
Artorius raised an eyebrow in confusion, well that is one way to start a conversation.
The young space dragon's voice was cold as she commented. "I can see you are an anomaly that should not exist."
Artorius cleared his throat and tried to ease the tension. "I think we got off on the wrong foot here. Hi I am Art-"
The War Dragon interrupted him with bared his teeth. "I hope you put up an interesting fight."
The Dream Dragon whispered, "I can see your confusion but the order from our parents are clear… we are to hunt you down and put you down for good."
The Plague Dragon smiled thinly. "Their words are Law!"
'Shoot,' Artorius swore in his mind while the crazy old dragon just laughed. It looks like they were not going to let him live at all. It was becoming obvious every few seconds that it was a mistake letting this dragon in and it did not even have the decency to leave when it was causing him all this grief!
God only knew what it was planning in the deep recesses of his mind. And now he saw that it had the ability to just up and take over his body anytime it wanted.
The Summer Dragon's gaze burned brightest when she saw the dead fragrance dragon. "You have upset the balance greatly in the Nest so far."
Artorius forced himself forward. "You're making a mistake," he said quickly. "There is a greater threat. An immortal dragonling, Void-born, had escaped. Alone, it is dangerous. Together, we could—"
"Don't worry, if you are able to take it down then we can hunt it at our leisure," the Life dragon stated.
"It is clear from your fight since its Sire did not interfere in your fight with the Probability Dragon it is either most likely long dead or gone," the Summer Dragon added.
Artorius said nothing. It was clear they made their decision. He just had to prepare. He thought about briefly jumping them right now with everyone here but with how wounded they were and how confident they were standing here in the midst of his army they must have something up their sleeve.
The Dream Dragon asked the Star dragon who stood off to the side, "Will you be siding with him?"
The star dragon nodded his head in answer.
One by one, the Imperial Dragons departed, tearing holes through space, light, dream, and decay as they left. Six new predators. All hunting him. Artorius sagged slightly as Zytherion receded, though not fully gone.
A presence approached from behind. The Star Dragon stepped closer, constellations turning slowly across his scales. He regarded Artorius with something like pity. "You walk a hard road," he said quietly.
Artorius laughed weakly. "You have no idea."
Ouroboros came up beside him, staring at the torn sky where the Imperials had vanished. He shook his head slowly. "…How," he muttered, "did you manage to get six Imperial Dragons after you?"
Artorius closed his eyes. "I guess I was just being me!"
'Don't feel too down,' Zytherion rumbled in his mind. 'Look over there.'
Artorius turned slowly, following the ancient dragon's attention. At first, he saw only ruin; collapsed arteries, scorched rubble, and the shattered remains of the Heart's inner lattice. But then his vision sharpened, dragon sight cutting through layers of debris.
Buried deep beneath the corpse-flesh of the Heart, pulsing faintly like a second heartbeat, was a blood-red crystal. It was not merely lodged in the ruins. It was embedded, grown into the corpse itself. Having his soldiers unearth it, the crystal was presented to him.
It was clearly that of Zytherion when he inspected it.
Probability Dragon Emperor Blood(Evolution Crystal) - This is the crystalized blood of the scheming Dragon Emperor Zytherion, long may he rein. Sovereign of outcomes and architect of infinite probabilities.
He had a new evolution path available to him of the probability dragon.
Ouroboros, standing nearby, felt the shift even without seeing the interface. He glanced at Artorius, then at the crystal, unease crawling across his features. "Its nice you found that but be careful it will grant greater control to the one who it originates from."
Artorius could tell what Ouroboros was getting at and nodded his head as he pocketed it. He had a lot of things he needed to try to resolve.
Six Imperial Dragons were hunting him. A Void-born true dragonling lurked somewhere out there. And inside his soul was a Dragon Emperor who was scheming something.
Then as if to add to his problems the system gave him the most unexpected prompt; New Quest Available!
-
Author Note: This is the end of Arc 3: Corpse
Well things are not looking great for mc, he has all but one of the top dogs in the Nest hunting him plus another greater threat is on the loose!
Onto the next and final arc of this volume!