Chapter 17: Dragonier

The grand throne room of Windia Castle shimmered in quiet majesty. Sunlight filtered through towering stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of color across the polished marble floor. Crimson, sapphire, and gold danced like spirits on the stone, illuminating the ancestral banners that lined the high vaulted walls. The silence was sacred—heavy with expectation.

Before the twin thrones of Windia's monarchs knelt four figures, bowed in reverence yet brimming with the weight of revelation. Princess Nina stood at the head, her chin held high, eyes fierce with purpose. Beside her, Ryu remained still, his presence calm but powerful. Garr, stoic and solemn, looked more statue than demon, while Rei's catlike eyes flicked warily around the room, more comfortable in shadow than in the light of royalty.

Nina broke the silence. "Father. Mother." Her voice rang clear, though behind it trembled months of hardship and hard-won truth. "I have returned from my quest, accompanied by Ryu, Rei, and Garr. We have traveled far and seen much. The world is changing."

The King leaned forward on his throne, his regal bearing laced with concern. "Has the goddess already been dealt with?" he asked, brow furrowed.

Nina shook her head. "No. The path ahead is longer than we thought. Before we can face the goddess, we must find the remaining members of the Brood." She paused, drawing a slow breath. "During our journey, I learned something… something buried in the history of our bloodline."

Her eyes locked onto her father's. "Our royal family has been protecting the Brood." The words fell like a stone in a silent pond. A ripple of stillness swept across the hall.

The king's expression faltered, confusion flitting across his face. He glanced at the queen, who turned to him in equal astonishment. A long silence passed between them—an unspoken memory rising from the depths. Then, the king looked down at his daughter and her companions. His voice was quiet, but no less heavy for it.

"I am sorry… but we do not know where the Brood are."

A flicker of pain crossed Nina's face—subtle, but there. The disappointment was not in the answer itself, but in the feeling that the legacy she'd uncovered was buried deeper than even her parents could reach.

A thick silence lingered in the grand throne room, the stained-glass windows casting long streaks of color across the polished marble floor. The weight of royalty, of history, pressed down on everyone in the chamber—except Ryu, who stepped forward with a calm but thoughtful expression.

"Your magesty, It's been five hundred years," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "That's a long time for anyone to stay hidden. Honestly, it's no surprise we don't know where the Brood are anymore. Their trail's probably buried under a mountain of time."

He glanced back at Nina, then looked to the king and queen. "But maybe there's still something left. Records, scrolls, old stories—anything. If your family really has been protecting the Brood, then maybe your archives have a clue. Even a small one would help."

The king leaned forward, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "The royal archives are at your disposal," he said at last. "You may search every book, scroll, and document within our keep. Nothing will be kept from you."

Rei raised an eyebrow in surprise, while Nina quietly breathed a sigh of relief. But the king's tone grew heavier.

"Be warned—our collection is ancient. Some volumes go back long before any of us were born. Many are written in languages no one's spoken in centuries. Sifting through them… it may take years. And even then, I can't guarantee you'll find what you're looking for."

Ryu gave a small shrug, his expression light but sincere. "That's fine. We're used to digging through impossible odds by now. Honestly, it'd be weird if it were easy."

Garr slowly rose to his full height, the light from the stained glass catching his bronze skin. The room stilled. When Garr spoke, his voice carried the deep gravity of ages—calm, deliberate, and impossible to ignore.

"Majesty," he rumbled, "perhaps the answers you seek aren't in books. Sometimes, what survives the centuries isn't written in ink, but forged in metal… crafted by hands long since turned to dust."

The king tilted his head slightly, listening. Garr continued, "What if there is something your family has safeguarded—something older than any archive. A gift, perhaps. A relic or device passed down through generations. Not for its value, but because no one dared to discard it."

He paused. "I'm talking about ancient technology."

At the mention of those words, a flicker of recognition passed across the king's face. His brow furrowed, eyes drifting toward the stained-glass ceiling as if trying to recall a forgotten dream.

"There is… something," he said slowly. "A chamber, far beneath the castle. Sealed. Forgotten, really. No one knows who built it, or what its purpose was. It has no windows, no doors—just walls of metal we cannot cut, and lights that never go out."

Nina's eyes widened. "Why has no one investigated it further?"

"We have," the king replied. "Many times. But no magic opens it, and no blade breaks it. Over the generations, we simply stopped noticing. It became legend—a curiosity, nothing more."

Garr's voice deepened, his tone sharpening like a blade unsheathed. "Then it's no legend. It's a message. And now it's time we read it."

The king was silent for a long breath, then finally nodded. "Guards," he said, his voice echoing with renewed purpose. "Escort Princess Nina and her companions to the lower vaults. I will join as well."

Steel-clad soldiers moved quickly, their boots clattering against the stone floor as they assembled. Ryu exchanged a glance with Rei, who grinned in anticipation.

"Well," Rei muttered, stretching his arms, "this oughta be interesting."

With the castle's sacred lights dancing along the corridor walls, the group followed the guards out of the throne room, leaving behind the opulence of Windian royalty for the depths where forgotten secrets slept—and where the past might finally speak.

The descent into the heart of Windia Castle began not with fanfare, but with the clatter of boots echoing through warm stone corridors. The group first passed through the castle's grand kitchen—an unexpectedly lively place even at this hour. The scent of spiced meats and fresh bread filled the air, and chefs, dressed in crisp aprons, paused mid-motion as the procession of soldiers and adventurers swept through. Knives halted mid-chop, ladles hovered over boiling pots, and wide eyes followed the strange company making their way past ovens and hearths.

Ryu gave a small, awkward wave. One of the younger cooks gawked at Garr, visibly unsure whether to offer food or flee.

Beyond the kitchen, the passage narrowed and led downward into the royal storage cellars. Here, the air grew cooler and thicker. Barrels of aged wine lined the walls in careful rows, interspersed with shelves of salted meats, cheeses, and dried herbs. The scent of damp wood, old cork, and fermenting grapes hung heavy in their lungs. Candlelight flickered over dust-covered crates that hadn't been touched in decades.

Another stairwell awaited at the far end of the storage room, winding downward into the bowels of the castle. The royal treasury came next—a vast chamber lined with locked chests, gilded artifacts, and stacks of gold and silver coins glinting dimly under the guards' torches. The flames danced in the reflective surfaces, sending shimmering lights dancing across the walls like a ghostly waltz. But even that grandeur paled compared to what lay beneath.

As they continued, the stone gave way to corridors older than any living memory. Here, even the guards hesitated. These halls were carved with forgotten precision—older than the castle itself. The air was thick with silence and stone dust. The guards lit ancient wall sconces, and for the first time in centuries, flames crackled in torch brackets whose metal had rusted with time. Shadows sprang to life on the walls, long and eerie, as if the castle itself was awakening.

At last, at the very end of the corridor, they found it.

A massive iron wall stood embedded in the stone, too smooth, too cold, too perfect to be of Windian design. A soft, eerie glow pulsed from the seams, casting pale light onto their faces.

Nina gasped softly, her breath caught in her throat. Ryu took a step forward, eyes narrowed, the strange light reflecting in his irises like fire on water.

"What is this place?" Rei muttered, his voice hushed as if afraid to wake something sleeping.

No one answered. The wall pulsed once more, as if it sensed their presence. And then—very faintly—it hummed.

Garr stepped forward, the faint humming of the wall resonating through the stone around them. He moved with purpose, his heavy claws echoing in the silent corridor. The others watched as he approached a sleek panel set into the stone beside the strange metallic wall. It shimmered faintly with blue light, its surface dotted with symbols and lines that none of them recognized.

He raised one hand and pressed his fingers to the keypad.

Beep. Chirp. Click.

A chorus of alien tones sang from the panel—notes that sounded too clean, too artificial, yet hauntingly familiar, as if they belonged to some long-buried memory of the world. Garr's fingers danced across the controls with quiet confidence, as if something deep inside him remembered what to do. The screen responded, lines shifting and reconfiguring, flashing with confirmation.

Then came the sound. A low, thunderous clang echoed through the corridor, followed by the deep, metallic groan of ancient mechanisms stirring to life. The wall began to split apart, steel grinding against steel, revealing a thick fog of sterile, cold air. The scent was foreign—metallic and sharp, untouched by time or nature. What lay beyond took their breath away.

It was a chamber—not a dungeon, not a tomb, but a place out of time. The room stretched wide and tall, its walls forged of seamless alloy that pulsed softly with inner light. Lines of glowing script flickered along the surfaces like veins of power. At the center stood a raised platform—an iron dais floating slightly above the floor, vibrating with a gentle hum, as if suspended by unseen magnetic forces.

Ryu and the others stepped inside cautiously. The temperature dropped noticeably, the air thick with static. Along the walls, conduits ran like metallic roots, connecting to strange pillars, consoles, and glass tubes filled with dimly glowing fluid. It was technology—undeniably—but so advanced, so incomprehensible, that it felt more like sorcery.

Rei reached out toward one of the floating wires, his hand hovering an inch away. "Doesn't that beat all... I don't think we should touch anything," he muttered, his voice low and reverent.

Nina's eyes were wide with wonder and fear. "This isn't Windian… or Brood… it's something else entirely."

Garr remained silent, standing in the center of the chamber like a sentinel returning to a forgotten temple.

"This place," he said finally, "wasn't meant to be found. Not by mortals. But it holds the answers. I can feel it." The chamber thrummed softly around them, like a sleeping heart waiting to be awakened.

Nina turned slowly, her voice cautious yet curious. "Garr… how do you know how to use this?"

Garr didn't turn to face her right away. His eyes scanned the chamber's intricate circuitry and ancient screens, glowing with soft pulses of alien light. Finally, he responded, his voice low and resolute.

"This technology… it bears the mark of the Windrunners." He stepped forward, brushing his finger gently across the edge of a lit console. "It's their design—beyond comprehension, beyond time. This is the kind of power that created the goddess Myria herself."

He glanced over his shoulder at Nina, his eyes burning with memory. "The Guardians were forged by that same goddess, given form by the same machines. We were born from this technology. Even now, I feel it resonating in my blood. It calls to me. Not with knowledge… but instinct."

As if drawn by that instinct, Garr turned to a tall, podium-like structure at the far end of the chamber. A faint panel was embedded within its surface, shimmering with dormant light. Garr placed his palm upon it. A surge of warmth ran through the air as lines of energy awakened beneath his touch, racing outward like fire igniting dry brush. The ground rumbled, soft but steady.

The platform at the center of the room began to glow—first dim, then brighter, humming with power. The iron stage vibrated with an ethereal hum, casting shifting beams of light across the chamber walls.

Everyone stepped back slightly as the energy built, the air warping around the platform in a barely perceptible ripple.

Garr turned to them, his expression unreadable, yet something close to reverence touched his face. "This is no ordinary room," he said, voice deep and clear. "This is a teleportation device. The Brood entrusted it to your ancestors, Nina. A final act of trust in the Windian royal family."

He looked at each of them—Rei, Nina, Ryu. "Through this portal lies the sanctuary of the Brood. The last of Ryu's people. Hidden not just by distance, but by time, space… and loyalty."

A silence fell over the room, broken only by the steady hum of the ancient machine now awakened from its long slumber.

Ryu stepped forward, the soft glow of the ancient machine casting light across his determined face. He looked to his companions, then to the Windian king and queen, and spoke with quiet conviction.

"Then let's not waste any more time," he said. "Let's meet my people… and put an end to the goddess's plan."

Nina turned to her father. Her eyes shimmered with emotion as she stepped into her his arms. The king embraced her tightly, as if holding her could somehow stop time.

"I'll come back," she whispered. "I promise."

The king placed a gentle hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Go with our blessing, my child. And may the winds guide you safely."

With a final nod, Nina joined Ryu, Rei, and Garr on the platform. The hum of the machine deepened into a resonant thrum that shook the very air. Lines of light raced along the floor and up the walls, bathing the chamber in a golden glow.

Energy surged upward in a column around the four of them. The room filled with a rush of wind and a high-pitched whine, ancient power awakened after centuries of slumber.

Then, in a brilliant flash, they were gone. Light swallowed them whole, and in an instant, the platform stood empty once more.

The king stepped forward, staring at the fading glow. He pressed a hand over his heart and closed his eyes.

"May fate carry them true," he murmured, "and may they return to us as heroes." The lights flickered gently as silence returned to the ancient depths of Windia Castle.

Light streaked across the sky like a falling star, piercing through clouds and racing toward the horizon. It struck the ground in a flash, kicking up dust and light in equal measure—and with it, the travelers arrived.

Ryu, Nina, Rei, and Garr reappeared in a chamber nearly identical to the one they had just left. The humming of the teleportation device faded into silence, leaving only the echo of their sudden presence. But unlike the polished and carefully maintained room beneath Windia Castle, this place felt… ancient. The walls were hewn from stone, weathered and cracked with age. Dust danced in the air, lit by the dying glow of the teleportation machine.

They exchanged uncertain glances. "Where are we?" Nina whispered, brushing dirt from her shoulder.

No one had an answer. They stepped cautiously through the chamber and out into the open—and froze. Before them stretched a vast, crumbling city, sun-bleached and weathered by centuries. Towering structures of carved stone leaned precariously, their foundations cracked, their grandeur lost to time. Once-majestic spires now lay broken, their pieces scattered across the sunbaked ground like forgotten bones.

The air was hot and dry, the sky a deep, cloudless blue. A scorching wind carried fine grains of sand, stinging their skin and eyes. In the distance, strange, camel-like beasts with long necks and horned snouts lazily grazed on spiny cactus patches, unbothered by the newcomers.

It felt like a ghost city. A single figure stood nearby—an elderly man cloaked in tattered robes, his skin weathered like the city around him. He had been tending to a cracked water basin just outside the stone building when he looked up and saw them.

His eyes went wide. The bucket in his hands dropped with a thud. He turned and bolted, his robes flapping behind him like wings, disappearing down an alley between two collapsed towers.

"Was he terrified?" Rei asked, watching the man vanish. "Or excited?"

"Maybe both," Garr muttered.

Ryu squinted out over the crumbling ruins. The city was vast, stretching far into the desert sands, but there were no sounds of life. No footsteps. No voices. No signs of a crowd. It was as if the entire civilization had been swallowed by silence.

"It's huge," Nina said quietly. "But it feels… empty."

The party took a few more steps forward, their boots crunching on brittle sand and stone.

Somewhere beneath the silence, they could all feel it—that ancient pulse. As if the city itself was watching them, waiting for something. For them.

The silence of the city did not last long. From the far end of the ruined boulevard, a group began to approach—slowly, their footsteps measured, deliberate. At first, they were just silhouettes against the harsh desert light, but as they drew closer, the party could make out their features. Men and women, draped in robes that shimmered faintly despite the dust and age. Their faces were lined with time, their eyes clouded yet alert, as if they had seen centuries pass and remembered every moment.

There was something more to them—an aura, subtle yet unmistakable. Not magic, not power… something older. Something eternal. They appeared human, yet their presence said otherwise.

Ryu stepped forward instinctively, feeling something stir in his chest. His dragon blood, long dormant in the presence of others, pulsed with strange recognition. He spoke, voice steady but touched with awe. "We're looking for the Brood," he said.

For a moment, the group said nothing. Then the eldest among them—a tall, gaunt man with silver hair that reached past his shoulders and eyes that seemed carved from ancient stone—stepped forward. "Welcome, Prince of Dragons," the old man said, his voice like wind passing over forgotten ruins. "My name is Griol, Patriarch of Dragonier… and we are the Brood."

The words struck like thunder. Nina gasped softly. Rei took an unconscious step back. Even Garr's expression shifted, surprise flickering across his normally stoic face. Ryu looked from face to face, his heart heavy with realization. Every one of them was old. Not simply aged by the years, but by the weight of centuries. Their skin bore the marks of endless time, their movements slow but graceful, like trees that had weathered a thousand storms. There were no children among them. No youth, no vitality—only the dignity of endurance and the shadow of decline.

They looked around the desolate city once more—this place that had once been the heart of the dragons. Dragonier was no kingdom, it was a mausoleum. A forgotten cradle of power, now held together by the final breaths of its last children. The Brood had survived… but only just. And Ryu, their prince, had come not to save a people in hiding—but to witness what remained of them before time claimed them completely.

Once the greetings were completed, Ryu and his companions were led through the crumbling streets of Dragonier to a nearby hall, one of the few buildings still intact amid the desert ruins. Inside, the air was thick with the aroma of roasted meats and sweet, sun-ripened fruits. Despite the city's faded grandeur, the feast laid out before them was generous—a gesture of deep reverence. Platters of cured game, spiced and flame-seared, sat alongside bowls of sliced cactus pears, dates, and other desert-grown delicacies. Clay jugs of herbal wine were passed around with quiet ceremony, and the elder members of the Brood watched Ryu with awe, treating him not just as a guest, but as a long-lost heir finally returned home.

Ryu sat near the head of the table, with Nina beside him and Rei tearing into a leg of meat like he hadn't eaten in days. Garr remained silent, his massive demonic form looming at the far end. Though the food was plentiful, his presence had cooled more than a few plates. From across the table, Patriarch Griol never took his eyes off him. His gaze was not fearful—but filled with memory. With sorrow. With restrained fury.

"So it is true," Griol finally said, his voice deep and calm, yet edged like stone worn sharp by time. "The old stories said that the Prince of Dragons would tame the Guardians. That only Kaiser could make them kneel." He leaned forward, the fire casting shadows across his aged features. "And now I see the one who slaughtered so many of our kin sits at your table, Prince. Garr, the Devourer. The one who serves the evil goddess. The one who turned against us."

The hall fell into a heavy silence. Nina shifted uneasily. Rei lowered his meat, his ears twitching. Garr did not speak. He did not deny it. Ryu's expression remained calm. He nodded once. "I've seen his memories. I know what he did. But he's not the same as he was. He chose to stand with us now. That has to mean something."

Griol held Ryu's gaze for a long moment. Then slowly, he leaned back in his chair. "Then you truly are Kaiser—the god-killer. No other could command a Guardian."

Ryu lowered his eyes, thoughtful. "What happened after you went into hiding?"

Griol breathed deeply, his gaze drifting to the fire.

"When the Goddess unleashed her final judgment, we knew we had no choice but to disappear. The Windrunners left behind a gift—one of their teleportation machines. We used it to escape, settling here in the farthest corner of the world, beyond her reach. But we were still afraid. Afraid she would find us by our draconic energy. So… we gave it up."

Nina looked up in shock. "You gave up your transformations?"

"Yes," Griol answered solemnly. "This was not the first time the Brood relinquished their power. Long ago, the White Dragon Clan cast aside their forms to live among mortals. They believed in peace… but they were betrayed. The Black Dragons attacked them in their weakened state. Many died. Ever since, we've been cautious. Power invites destruction, even among ourselves."

Rei narrowed his eyes, scanning the elderly faces in the hall. "Then… where are the children? The young ones?"

Griol's voice lowered. "We made a choice. No more children. Not until Kaiser returned. We feared that young Broodlings would not understand the danger. That they would awaken their powers in innocence… and summon the Goddess's wrath. So we waited. We aged. We endured. And now…" He looked directly at Ryu. "You've come. After five hundred years, our waiting is over."

The air grew still, heavy with both hope and quiet despair. They were a people who had survived, but only just. Now they placed their faith—everything they had left—not in an army, not in a prophecy, but in a single man. And Ryu knew, with the weight of centuries behind their eyes, that this was not a moment he could afford to fail.

Ryu set down his goblet, his expression growing serious. "Griol, there's something we're looking for—something that could be the key to ending all of this. The Infinity Gene. Do you know anything about it?"

Griol's tired eyes met Ryu's, and slowly, he nodded. "Yes… we have safeguarded it for generations. It resides within one of our own—Jono."

Ryu glanced around the hall, scanning the gathered elders. "Jono? Which one is he?"

A heavy silence fell over the room. Griol lowered his head and coughed, his voice gravelly with age. "Jono isn't here. He resides in a sealed chamber, deep within the heart of Dragonier. He is the last Brood who still carries his full power… because he must. If Jono were to relinquish the Infinity Gene, our people would be lost forever."

The weight of Griol's words settled like a storm cloud over the gathering. Ryu absorbed the gravity of the revelation, while Garr—standing at the edge of the hall, his presence like a shadow among the wary elders—narrowed his eyes slightly. Something about Griol's explanation didn't sit right with him. There was more to this secret chamber, more to Jono, and Garr could feel it. But now wasn't the time to question it. He was already the embodiment of centuries of pain to these people. So, he kept silent, his massive form tense, watching and waiting.

Ryu leaned forward, his gaze steady on the old patriarch. "Griol… I want to meet him. Jono. If he carries the Infinity Gene, then everything depends on him. Please—take me to him."

Griol shook his head, slow and deliberate. "In time, Prince of Dragons. Jono will reveal himself when he is ready. He sees all that happens within Dragonier. He knows you are here. But until the moment is right, we must wait."

Though frustrated, Ryu accepted the answer. Griol's words had the ring of deep, ancient truth—the kind forged by hardship, survival, and secrets older than kingdoms.

The days that followed passed quietly, like dust drifting through sunbeams in the forgotten halls of Dragonier. Ryu, Nina, Rei, and Garr each took to their own ways of understanding this lost civilization—this last, flickering ember of the Brood.

Nina flew up the weathered spires of the city's once-magnificent towers, her wings flaring gently to balance herself against the desert winds. From those great heights, she observed the delicate craftsmanship of buildings slowly crumbling under the weight of centuries. She studied each mural, each faded emblem etched in stone, trying to imagine the Brood in their prime—when the skies were filled with dragons and the world still remembered their power.

Rei, often found in the shadow of the city's old library, poured over fragile tomes and weather-beaten journals. The writings told of families, festivals, battles, and love—everyday lives once rich with purpose now reduced to fading ink. One by one, the authors chronicled their final days, their entries growing more somber with the loss of each generation, until only a handful of voices remained to carry the legacy.

Ryu walked among the elders, listening to their memories like a student before a council of sages. They spoke of wars fought not for conquest but for balance—against tyrants, gods, and monsters alike. He learned of the Brood's oath: to be guardians of the world, not its rulers. The weight of that history settled in his chest, heavy but righteous. He was not merely their prince—he was their hope.

And Garr… he did not wander. He stood vigil at the doorway of the teleportation chamber, where ancient hums of power still echoed in the silence. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable. But inside, a storm raged. The walls of this city bore the scars of his kind—of the Guardians. And no amount of time or regret could erase the truth. He had once been an instrument of their suffering. And now, surrounded by the last survivors, he could do nothing but wait—for forgiveness, for justice, or for the end.

One blistering afternoon, beneath the cloudless sky and the oppressive heat of the desert sun, Ryu made his way to the edge of the ancient courtyard where Garr stood unmoving, a silent sentinel before the dormant teleportation device. For days, the towering Guardian hadn't stirred from his post. His bronze colored wings, weathered by time and fire, rippled gently in the arid breeze, casting shadows that stretched like sentries of their own across the cracked stone floor.

Ryu approached quietly, the sand crunching beneath his boots, but Garr had sensed him long before the sound reached his ears. The dragon prince stopped beside him, gazing at the shimmering horizon beyond the crumbling walls.

"What's on your mind, Garr?" Ryu asked, his voice calm, almost soft.

Garr turned his head slightly, his glowing eyes unreadable beneath his stony brow. "It's strange," he rumbled, his voice rough with emotion. "An Endless never pondered life or death. We simply… were. Eternal. Absolute. It wasn't until I met you that I was forced to face what it truly means to be alive—to carry guilt, to feel the weight of mortality. I never considered what happened to those who survived our judgment. What pain lingered in their silence."

He looked away, his gaze falling on the weathered stone beneath his feet.

"I see now the devastation we left behind. I see it in the eyes of every elder who still walks this city. The ones who escaped us. Who remember. To us, the lives of mortals were flickers—barely noticed before they faded. But to them… every heartbeat mattered. Every loss was an entire world gone. If I had understood then what I understand now… perhaps I wouldn't have taken so many. I'm sorry."

The silence that followed was not empty, but full—thick with the sorrow of centuries and the honesty of a being learning how to feel.

Ryu looked up at him, a quiet smile softening his features. Despite Garr's monstrous frame, his demonic wings, and his carved-from-stone presence, Ryu saw the truth of who he was. Not a destroyer. Not anymore. But a soul in search of redemption.

"You may have been a Guardian, Garr," Ryu said, placing a firm hand on the warrior's arm, "but you've become so much more. We've all made mistakes. But what matters now is that we stand together. We end the goddess' tyranny—and we give the world the peace it deserves."

Garr closed his eyes, letting the words settle like a balm on old wounds. For the first time in days, he shifted—not in duty, but in hope.

A soft crunch of sandals against sand made Ryu look back. Griol approached them slowly, his posture stiff, as though the words he carried were heavier than age itself.

"Jono is ready to see you now," he said. The old patriarch's voice trembled—not with fear, but with a solemnity that rooted itself deep in the air between them.

Ryu exchanged a glance with Garr. No words were needed. Both men nodded, a quiet acknowledgment passing between dragon and guardian.

After gathering Nina and Rei from the quiet inn, they followed Griol across Dragonier. The city was as silent as a tomb at dusk, its crumbling stone arches and sun-baked towers casting long fading shadows. All paths led to the center of the ancient settlement—to an old well encircled by worn bricks, its opening yawning like a black mouth.

Griol gestured toward it with a weary hand. "Jono is hiding down there," he said. "He is waiting for you."

His eyes flitted toward Ryu with something like hope… and something like fear. They peered into the darkness. A decaying ladder descended into blackness, the faint glimmer of lantern light flickering far below like a single dying star.

One by one, they climbed down. The moment their boots touched the wooden rungs, the scent hit them—wet stone, rot, and old earth. The air grew thick, pressing against their lungs as they descended deeper and deeper into Dragonier's forgotten heart.

The dimly lit corridor beneath the city was narrow, the walls slick with moss and dripping water. Their footsteps echoed, swallowed by the oppressive silence. Long-abandoned torches lined the stone passage, their iron brackets rusted over, their flames long extinguished. It smelled of secrets. Of centuries.

But they pressed forward, each step taking them closer to the truth, closer to the one dragon who still held power—a power the world had forgotten, and Myria had feared.

The tunnel stretched on endlessly, a labyrinth of long-forgotten aqueducts carved deep beneath Dragonier. Water dripped in distant chambers, echoing like faint, hollow heartbeats. Nina walked at the front, palm raised, her magic conjuring a soft orb of light that pulsed like a breathing star.

They rounded a bend—and Nina froze. "Wait," she whispered.

Her light brushed against stone, washing over a wall half-consumed by moss and time. Slowly, unbelievably, the darkness peeled back to reveal a mural—ancient, cracked, yet still vibrant enough to steal breath from her lungs.

It was a battlefield. In the center was a small blonde girl, her face childlike in innocence, but surrounded by a storm of magic that radiated from her body like burning sunlight. Long, writhing worms with jagged teeth slithered toward an army of warriors, their forms caught forever in motion.

Nina swallowed hard, her voice barely audible. "Tyr…"

Ryu stepped closer, eyes tracing each detail. A mole with enormous claws, tearing through stone. An ox warrior hefting a hammer large enough to crush mountains. A Manilo brandishing a trident forged from shimmering crystal. Deis herself, mid-incantation, magical runes swirling around her in spirals of light. A shapeshifter wielding a dagger dripping with shadow. A Windrunner archer, bow drawn, arrow tipped with lightning.

And at the very front—two figures that stopped Ryu's breath in his chest. A Windian princess, her blonde hair flowing like silk, wings unfurled in defiance… And beside her, a warrior with cascading blue hair, gripping a familiar blade. The Dragon Sword.

Ryu lifted his hand, almost touching the mural, but stopped short. His throat tightened. Nina's eyes met his, her voice filled with awe and dread.

"It's us," she whispered. "History is repeating itself."

Garr stepped forward, staring at the depiction with eyes that seemed to see through time. He exhaled slowly, an ancient weariness filling his gaze. He bowed his head, shadows dancing over his demonic features.

"They won that war," Garr said, "but victory comes with a price. Even gods can return… and so can the memories we'd rather forget."

Rei ran his fingers across a cracked section of stone, the dust staining his fur. "So we're really walking in their footsteps," he murmured.

Ryu looked at the Dragon Sword painted in worn pigments of blue and gold, the warrior's stance rigid, unyielding—even in art, even in death.

"We'll finish what they started," he said quietly, not a vow, but a truth. The mural stared back like a prophecy carved into stone. And in that moment, surrounded by cold walls and ancient echoes, they understood: They were not just descending into darkness. They were descending into destiny.

At the end of the labyrinth, the air changed. The suffocating humidity of moss and stagnant water gave way to a stillness so profound it wrapped around them like a shroud. Nina's magic light expanded into a wide, steady glow that revealed a chamber unlike anything else in the aqueducts—clean, warm, and alive with energy.

A massive lone platform rose at its center, illuminated by soft golden light from sconces carved into the walls. Upon it sat an old man.

At first glance, he looked impossibly fragile. His arms were thin as reeds, his fingers curled like ancient roots. Wrinkles creased every inch of his face, so deep they seemed carved by centuries rather than time. His ceremonial garb hung loosely on his frame, little more than woven cloth and faded thread, yet it carried an indescribable weight—ancestral, sacred, final.

He sat cross-legged, eyes closed, breathing slow and steady in a meditative silence. When their footsteps echoed into the chamber, the old man's eyelids lifted.

"Stop," he commanded—not loud, but with a gravity that froze them in place. His voice was a whisper of dust and memory, yet it resonated through the room like a tolling bell. "Only the Prince of Dragons may approach."

Ryu's breath hitched. He didn't know this man. Didn't know how or why the title hit him so hard, as if someone had named a truth he had not yet dared to speak aloud.

The others turned to him. Garr's face was impassive, but there was something in his eyes—recognition, maybe even respect. Rei only shrugged, expression unreadable. Nina looked terrified.

Ryu nodded once, silently asking them to wait, then stepped forward and ascended the platform. The old man gestured for him to sit. Ryu mirrored his posture, crossing his legs, the platform cold through his clothes.

"My name is Ryu," he said.

The old man smiled, a small, sad, knowing smile. "I know," he whispered. "I have been waiting for you… for five hundred years, Kaiser."

A chill ran down Ryu's spine. He almost asked how the man knew, but the question died on his tongue. Instead he said, very quietly: "What happened here?"

Jono closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a long, brittle breath. "I was a child," he began, "when the Guardians descended from the sky. They came like locusts of divine judgment—beasts that could not die, could not bleed, could not fall." His voice trembled, but he did not stop. "We fought. God know we fought. But you cannot slay the Endless." Nina, Rei, and Garr listened in absolute stillness.

"So we fled," Jono continued, "into the teleportation chamber, into exile. Five hundred of us escaped. Five hundred Brood. We built homes here. We prayed. We waited. One by one, we died… not in battle, but to time."

His gaze lifted to the ceiling, as if seeing ghosts suspended in the air. "We waited for Kaiser. The one who could kill gods. And now… finally… you have come."

Ryu swallowed. "How do I get the Infinity Gene?" he asked, voice steady but heart racing.

Jono's eyes softened. And then, slowly, painfully, he said "Have you said farewell to your friends yet?"

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then, Nina screamed, "What are you talking about!?" She rushed forward, "He doesn't have to—"

An invisible force slammed into her like a wall of iron. She flew backward, hitting the stone with a gasp of pain.

"Nina!" Ryu shot to his feet.

Rei lunged to her side, catching her before she collapsed. Garr stepped between them, eyes fixed on Jono, jaw clenched.

Jono rose. The transformation was terrifying—not physical, but in presence. He seemed taller, heavier, ancient power radiating from his frail frame like heat from a furnace.

"I am sorry, Prince of Dragons," he said. And somehow, he truly sounded sorry. "But the only way to obtain the Infinity Gene… is to defeat me."

He lifted his hand. The golden sconces flared. "But understand this—" His voice changed, deepened, becoming something hungry and desperate: "I will not give it willingly."

His eyes flashed, pupils narrowing like a beast's. "Because I want the Kaiser Gene for myself." And the chamber exploded into light.

Ryu drew the Dragon Sword in one fluid motion, steel whispering from its scabbard. Across from him, the frail, ancient body of Jono lowered into a stance—Ryu's stance—arms crossed, breath held, every muscle drawn taut like a bowstring. The air changed. Jono's eyes rolled back, and with a voice that was part invocation, part roar, he screamed to the heavens.

A bolt of lightning tore through the earth, punching clean through the stone ceiling and slamming into the chamber floor. The walls shook, the torches guttered, and from the point of impact a sphere of black light bled into existence. It pulsed like a heartbeat, expanding, collapsing, folding in on itself.

Ryu froze. He had transformed before. He had felt wings erupt from his back, scales ripple across muscle, fire coil beneath his heart. But he had never seen it from the outside—never watched a human body tear itself apart and rebuild as something ancient and terrible.

The black orb shattered, and the Infinity Dragon stepped out. Copper scales, burnished and gleaming, layered across a body that looked carved from mountains. Jono's jaw unhinged in a guttural snarl, teeth like obsidian spears capable of cracking stone. His wings unfurled, massive and webbed, horns jutting from each joint like curved blades. Tail that cracked the air itself. Four titanic limbs slammed against the ground, claws digging trenches into solid rock as easy as chalk into slate.

Nina gasped. Rei swore. Garr stared in grim recognition. Ryu swallowed hard. "Why?" he called, voice echoing under the vaulted ceiling. "Why do we have to fight?"

Jono's dragon-head lowered, nostrils flaring. His voice, when it came, was layered; human words wrapped in the rumble of earthquakes and storms.

"Because it has always been this way. Since the first Infinity Dragon fought Fou-Lu… the Infinity and the Kaiser have been destined to clash. There is room for only one."

His eyes glowed like molten metal, pupils slitted and merciless. "And history," Jono snarled, "is against you. Infinity always wins. The victor earns the right to kill the Goddess. Now—"

His wings snapped open, stone exploding under the impact. "Give me the Kaiser Gene!"

Nina sprinted toward them, Rei and Garr flanking her, weapons drawn—but the moment they crossed the edge of the platform, the invisible barrier struck like a hammer. All three were thrown backward, slammed into the far wall, breath knocked from their lungs.

No matter how much they tried, the barrier held, shimmering like glass in the air, sealing him alone in the chamber. He lifted his sword and stepped forward, fury and panic burning behind his eyes.

He didn't want to fight the old man. He didn't want to kill him. He lowered into his stance, air shifting, aura rising. He reached inward, toward the familiar spark, the core of fire and memory where the Brood slumbered.

"Transform," he whispered. Nothing happened. He tried again, heart pounding. "Transform!" The power didn't come. A horrible, cold realization flooded his chest. He couldn't transform. The barrier… it wasn't just keeping his allies out—it was cutting him off from the Brood power entirely, isolating him from his own nature, severing his dragon soul from his body.

He stared at Jono—at the massive, copper-scaled monstrosity whose every breath radiated power older than history itself. Jono loomed over him, steam curling from his fangs.

"Your strength as a dragon is sealed," he growled. "Now fight me, Prince of Dragons—fight me as a man!"

Ryu tightened his grip on the Dragon Sword. For the first time in his life, he would face a god-tier dragon… with nothing but steel and will.

Jono lunged first. The Infinity Dragon's jaws snapped down like a collapsing fortress gate, fangs long enough to impale a horse flashing in the dim light. Ryu rolled aside, the bite striking stone with a thunderous crack that sent shards flying. Before he could recover, a clawed forelimb swept across the platform in a blur, talons screeching as they gouged deep trenches into the floor where Ryu had just been standing.

Ryu ducked, dodged, and leapt—always a breath ahead of death. He struck when he could, sword flashing in controlled arcs, his training with the Dragon Sword guiding every movement. Steel met scale with a sound like metal on stone—sparks flared, tiny flakes of copper flew.

But the blade barely left a mark. Jono's hide was dense, layered, ancient; every swing felt like striking a fortress wall. The only reward Ryu earned for his efforts were scratches no deeper than a thumbnail.

The dragon pivoted with startling speed for a creature so large, tail whipping around in a violent arc. Ryu raised his sword instinctively—too slow. The tail caught him full in the side, sending him spinning through the air. He hit the ground, sliding, ribs screaming in protest.

"Ryu!" Nina called from outside the barrier, her voice raw with fear, palms slamming against the unseen wall.

He forced himself up, tasting blood. Jono roared—a sound that rattled the bones, a sound older than empires. He charged, claws pounding like war drums. Ryu darted between them, sliding under a limb, kicking off the ground, and slashing at the exposed flesh between the plates under Jono's jaw.

The blade connected—this time drawing a thin line of red. Jono recoiled with a snarl. And Ryu saw it. Not the wound, the breath. Jono's attack had been powerful… but afterward he hesitated. A pause, barely a second, but it was there—shoulders dipping, wings drooping, chest heaving with effort.

Ryu narrowed his eyes. For all Jono's monstrous power, for all the divine strength of the Infinity Dragon burning through him… Jono was old.

His movements were devastating but unsustainable; every strike took something out of him. His claws trembled ever so slightly when he lifted them again. His wings shook when they unfurled. His breath burned with the weight of years.

Limited by age. Bound to a body that could no longer contain endless power. Ryu wiped the blood from his mouth and steadied his stance again, sword lifted, eyes sharp. He couldn't win by brute force—he knew that now. But this wasn't a battle of strength, it was a battle of endurance. Of precision. Of timing.

Jono thundered forward, using fangs and claws in a flurry of primal rage. Ryu slipped between the strikes, rolling under a bite, leaping over a tail swipe, steel ringing against scale when he found an opening. Each attack Jono made left him slower, more labored. The dragon exhaled smoke like a dying fire, lungs struggling to fuel the violence.

Ryu's heart pounded with revelation. "He may be the Infinity Dragon," Ryu thought. "But he's still mortal underneath it all. Still flesh. Still time-worn."

Ryu pivoted away from another claw strike, landing light on his feet. He wouldn't try to overpower Jono. He would outlast him. He would wait until the inevitable moment where ancient strength faltered—and then strike with everything he was.

Inside the chamber, power clashed with desperation. One fighting to claim the Gene. The other fighting to keep it out of the wrong hands. And outside the barrier, Nina, Rei, and Garr watched in helpless silence as the Prince of Dragons faced a titan alone.

After a long and hard fight, the Infinity Dragon faltered. Jono's colossal frame trembled with the effort of each breath, sides heaving, steam coiling from his nostrils in slow, labored bursts. The cavern smelled of burnt stone and ancient magic. Ryu, panting but steady, lowered his sword just a fraction and stepped forward.

"Jono," he said, voice firm but not unkind, "stop. Listen to me." The old dragon's eyes—molten bronze ringed in age and sorrow—shifted toward him. Ryu lifted both hands, palms open, weapon lowered, his body no longer poised to strike.

"There has to be another way," Ryu continued. "We don't need to kill each other for this. We can find another path, another way to pass the Gene. We can work together."

For a heartbeat, there was silence. And it hurt, the silence, because for that heartbeat, Jono looked almost human again. Something in his massive eyes flickered: exhaustion, grief… hope. Then it died.

"No," Jono rumbled, voice cracking like stone under pressure. "No, young Kaiser. We already tried that."

His wings sagged, not from weakness now, but from memory. From centuries of memory. "For five hundred years," he said, each word heavy as a tombstone, "we searched. We prayed. We experimented with every ritual, every sacrifice, every ancient secret. And every attempt ended the same. Failure."

Ryu swallowed. He could see it now—the ghosts in Jono's eyes, countless faces remembered in perfect, unbearable detail.

"Brothers. Sisters. Children. Friends." Jono's tail dragged across the floor, scales scraping stone like a funeral drum. "I watched every one of them grow old and die. A handful of us endured, clinging to hope. Waiting for Kaiser to arrive. Waiting for you."

His voice shook—not with anger, but with longing. "You are our closure, prince. You are our blade against the goddess who slaughtered us. I cannot surrender—not even to the one I have waited for all my life."

And then the dragon's jaw unhinged. Ryu saw it too late, the inner glow gathering at the back of Jono's throat, white-hot and blinding, burning from the inside out.

Jono roared: "SIRCORRO!"

The ceiling ignited. Spheres of fire formed overhead, dozens of them, blazing comets suspended for a heartbeat before crashing down like divine punishment. The cavern became a battlefield of flame—explosions ripping apart stone, heat washing over the platform in violent waves.

Ryu leapt, rolled, dove between eruptions, but there were too many. The last fireball came down like a falling star—directly above him. Light swallowed him whole, fire and wind erupting outward with a force that shook the chamber.

"RYU!" Nina's scream tore through the air. Her knees buckled. She collapsed at the invisible barrier, sobbing, fingers clawing uselessly at the magic that kept her out. Rei slammed his fists against it until his knuckles bled. Garr stared, silent and pale, a beast watching history kill hope right in front of him.

Smoke thickened, choking the air. Jono lumbered forward, breath ragged, eyes wide and triumphant. "Time to collect my reward—"

His words choked off. A silhouette stepped through the smoke. Ryu was alive against the odds. Burned. Bruised. Armor scorched black—and standing.

Jono reeled backward. "Impossible! How—!?"

Ryu lifted one trembling arm toward the cavern ceiling and shouted through the haze: "Rejuvenate!"

Light burst around him—clear, pure, breath-like, cascading through his limbs and knitting torn flesh together. Wounds sealed, burns vanished, breath returned clean and strong. The glow lingered a moment longer, then faded like stardust drifting to the floor. Ryu steadied himself, Dragon Sword glinting faintly.

"The barrier," he said, voice low, "sealed my dragon transformations." He took a step forward. "But not my healing."

Jono's massive body lurched as if struck by something invisible. Pure disbelief cracked through his tone. "Healing…? That magic was lost centuries ago. The Dauna Temple Brood are all dead! Every one of them."

Ryu met his gaze, eyes hard and unyielding. "I'm sorry to tell you," he said quietly, "but I am the sole survivor of Dauna Temple."

The words hit Jono harder than any blade ever could. And for the first time in five hundred years, the Infinity Dragon felt fear.

Ryu raised his sword, the steel gleaming in the torchlight, and pointed it at the colossal dragon before him. "You showed me your strength," he said, voice steady with resolve. "Now it's time for mine. Bone Breaker!"

He sprang forward. The Dragon Sword crashed against Jono's forearm with a brutal crack. The sound was sickening. Jono's roar shook the chamber—raw, primal agony. The massive arm buckled, scales warping as the bones beneath shattered like ancient stone. The Infinity Dragon slumped, his front limb useless, breath coming in harsh rasps.

Ryu didn't hesitate. He leapt back, planting his feet with deliberate grace, and took a stance the others had never seen before. Shadows curled around him, devouring the light.

"Shadow walk!" His form blurred, dissolved—vanished.

Jono whipped his head back and forth, frantic. "Where—?!"

A whisper of movement, a flicker underfoot. Jono looked down. Ryu was already there, rising from the darkness at his feet, blade poised directly over the dragon's beating heart. There was no time for either of them to speak. Ryu drove the sword forward.

Steel met scale, then sank deep. The chamber echoed with the wet, terrible sound of metal piercing flesh. Jono's roar stuttered, broke, then fell silent as his massive body convulsed and toppled, shaking the ancient platform as he crashed to the ground.

The moment he hit stone, the invisible barrier shattered with a resonant crack, like glass breaking across every wall. Nina was already moving. She sprinted forward, nearly colliding with Ryu, arms locking around him. She buried her face against his chest, her tears scorching through the soot and ash clinging to his armor. Rei arrived seconds later, skidding to a stop, staring with disbelief and awe.

Garr stepped past them, solemn as a funeral bell. He knelt beside the fallen dragon's body and pressed one large hand to the scales. "He's gone," Garr murmured.

Ryu gently pried himself free from Nina's embrace. He walked to Jono's side and rested a hand on the copper hide—a gesture not of victory, but respect.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I wish it didn't have to end like this."

For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Then Jono's corpse began to glow. Soft at first, then brilliant, radiant—bronze scales dissolving into motes of light. The chamber filled with warmth, not heat, but something ancient and kind. The air itself seemed to breathe.

Jono's voice spoke through the light, not pained, but peaceful. "It's okay, Prince of Dragons." Golden particles swirled through the chamber, spiraling around Ryu and the others. "You defied fate, and you have earned the Infinity Gene. Now go. Take the gene… and put an end to the goddess."

The light drifted toward the far end of the platform, gathering, condensing—until it formed a single mass of shimmering chrysm crystal, pulsing as if with a heartbeat.

They approached slowly. Every breath felt heavy with history. "I feel something…" Garr whispered, eyes wide. "Something incredibly powerful. The Brood… all of them."

Ryu extended a hand. The instant his fingers touched the chrysm, voices flooded his mind—ancient, sorrowful, resolute. Not words, exactly, but impressions: fire, flight, loss, hope. The collective will of a people long buried.

The crystal erupted in a blinding flash. Nina shielded her eyes. Rei stumbled back. Garr lifted an arm, stunned. When the light faded, the chrysm was gone. And Ryu stood in its place.

Nina gasped.

"Doesn't that beat all," Rei whispered.

Garr's eyes widened like he had seen a god.

Ryu's hair was no longer blue. It flowed down in a wild, golden curtain, haloed by a breeze no one could feel. His eyes—once gentle, ocean-blue—now burned a deep emerald, alive with ancient power.

They were the colors of Fou-Lu and Infinity combined. The air around him hummed, thick with magic, like the world itself recognized him. Ryu lifted his gaze to his friends. Something had changed—not just in his body, but in the space around him. He was still Ryu. Still their friend. Still the man who laughed with them, bled with them, held them through nightmares. But he was something more now. A chosen heir, a living legacy, a dragon destined to kill a god.

Garr approached. The great Guardian, scarred by centuries of regret and war, moved with a reverence none of them had ever seen. He knelt before Ryu, lowering his head, and placed his spear flat on the ground in a gesture older than Dragonier itself.

"Welcome back," Garr said, voice steady, solemn. "Yorae Dragon."

No one spoke for a long heartbeat. They just moved towards the exit, prepared to face the rest of the Brood; prepared for the worst. Then, in silence, they climbed the ladder and emerged from the forgotten depths beneath Dragonier. The surface air felt sharper now, cleaner, as if the ancient city had been holding its breath until this moment.

Ryu expected shouts. Accusations. Rage. He had killed their elder. Their protector. Their last hope for five centuries. But when they stepped out and the gathered Brood turned to see him—golden hair stirring in phantom wind, emerald eyes glowing with power older than the world itself—no one lifted a weapon. No one cried out in anger. They exhaled. Relief. It washed over the courtyard like a soft breeze.

Griol stepped forward, eyes wet, hands trembling as he bowed deeply. "Welcome, King of Dragons."

And then—every member of the Brood knelt as one. A dozen voices, a dozen hearts, centuries of waiting… bowing before a boy who only days ago didn't even know their history.

Ryu stood frozen, overwhelmed not by power, but by responsibility. The titles crashed over him like a storm:

Prince.

Kaiser.

Now King.

He had inherited the duty of the ancient Ryu and Fou-Lu, of all those before him who bore the weight of dragonkind. He now carried the burden Jono had spent five hundred lonely years preparing for: to end the goddess and save the Brood from extinction.

Nina stepped to his side, gently slipping her hand into his. Rei rested an elbow on his shoulder, smirking with pride. Garr rose slowly behind them, standing tall once more. In that courtyard, beneath the pale light of Dragonier's sky, Ryu understood something profound:

This battle was no longer just his destiny. It was his people's last hope. He had inherited a legacy of sorrow, fire, and endless struggle. But he would write a proper ending himself.