A terrifying fortress of enchanted black marble stood unchallenged in the heart of a frozen hell.
A furious blizzard howled endlessly around its countless towers, winds screaming as they hurled sheets of snow and ice against the structure. The storm threatened to tear the fortress apart, yet it never quite succeeded. The outer walls bore the scars of centuries of snowfall and relentless assault, but within, the structure remained immaculate, untouched by decay or weather.
Long corridors stretched inward, forming an elaborate, nightmarish maze. Even the most seasoned adventurers would have required months, perhaps even years to map its true layout.
Not that anyone had ever dared to try.
The pathways were sealed behind innumerable barriers of uncertain origin, layered atop one another with extreme precision. Some barriers were traps, others illusions. Some simply denied entry altogether, rejecting existence itself. Their craftsmanship was so absolute that no sorcery; ancient or modern, could ever hope to dismantle them.
None of this concerned the Green Dragon though.
He moved through the fortress with deliberate ease.
There were chambers even he could not enter, but the lesser barriers, the traps and diversions meant to deter intruders, posed no challenge whatsoever. He had traversed these halls many times before, memorizing their shape, their rhythms and secrets.
It had taken him months to fully comprehend the maze.
But in the end, it had led him to what he sought.
A person. No… rather, A sorcerer.
The only one he had ever considered a friend in his own twisted way.
At last, he entered a particularly dark hallway. Ominous cursed energy pooled thickly in the air, saturating the space with a corrosive presence that would erode body and soul alike. Any lesser being would have been stripped apart merely by standing there.
The Green Dragon did not slow.
He calmly coated his flowing robes with a thin veil of cursed energy, dispersing the corrosive influence as though brushing away dust.
The hallway yielded immediately.
Beyond it lay a vast chamber.
Though unmistakably a product of a distant, bygone era, the room was pristine. Not a speck of dust marred its surface. A handful of candles burned dimly along the walls; their flames were steady and eternal, unbothered by time or wind.
At the center of the chamber stood a massive translucent dome, nearly ten meters in diameter.
As the Green Dragon advanced with confident, authoritative strides, intricate red patterns; interconnected like circuits, flared to life at the dome's base. The glowing designs crept upward, spiraling toward the summit as if responding to his presence.
He paid them no heed.
Through the barrier, he could make out the vague silhouette of the one imprisoned within.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips, and his pace quickened slightly.
Moments later, he stood before the dome.
He inhaled once, deeply.
Then he stepped forward.
The barrier distorted at the point of entry, warping and twisting under his intrusion before immediately repairing itself once he had passed through.
Inside, the Green Dragon stood tall, hands clasped calmly behind his back. For the first time in a long while, something resembling satisfaction settled over him; though the draconic mask concealed any outward sign of it. It was short lived though; he soon felt the barrier blocking his cursed energy replenishment.
'How irritating…' he remarked as his reserves diminished ever so slightly.
From within the dome, the outside world appeared as little more than a blurred haze.
The interior, however, was far from empty.
At the opposite edge of the barrier sat another man, slumped against its inner surface.
His weathered, wheat-colored skin was shriveled tight against bone; an unmistakable sign of prolonged starvation. His black hair, long neglected, spilled dry and brittle down to his waist. A thick, unkempt beard concealed much of his emaciated chest.
His legs sprawled uselessly before him, his gaze lowered. His hands rested limply on his thighs.
His nails told a far crueler story.
Some had grown long and dagger-like, curling grotesquely. Others bent inward, forming filthy, jagged spirals. The rest had become brittle over time, snapping away unevenly under their own decay.
The man possessed almost no cursed energy now.
He had survived for months without the Dragon's aid.
And yet- He was utterly unresponsive.
The Green Dragon sighed.
"Well then…" he said smoothly, his voice was rich and resonant.
"It appears I am late once again."
Silence followed.
Then, slowly, the maw of the draconic mask opened.
From within it spilled dozens of small cursed objects; charms, talismans, fragments, each radiating faint power. They trickled down and gathered into a small pile at his feet.
Still, the man did not stir.
"It is time…" the Dragon continued, a faint edge of irritation coloring his tone, "to break your fast, my friend."
The reaction was immediate.
The man's eyelids burst open, revealing frantic, half-dead eyes beneath. His body shuddered violently as he struggled to move. At first, it resisted fiercely, his form had grown accustomed to conserving every shred of life force and cursed energy.
Then it obeyed and he collapsed forward.
Dragging himself inch by inch, he crawled toward the pile as though his very existence depended on it.
Meanwhile, the Green Dragon reached up and removed his helm with practiced elegance.
Strands of lustrous black hair fell messily across his face. His expression, now visible, was one of deep discomfort, despite standing before the only being he acknowledged as a companion.
The man reached the pile at last.
With trembling fingers, he seized a cursed object and wasted no time, shoving it into his mouth.
Then another.
And another.
He devoured them frantically, ravenously, until only one remained.
A necklace.
The one the Green Dragon had taken from the orphanage.
The man hesitated.
Recognition flickered briefly in his eyes, something soft, almost human. Nostalgia surfaced for just a moment.
Then he swallowed it whole.
The Green Dragon clicked his tongue.
"That one," he said coolly, "was particularly unpleasant to acquire. You would do well to appreciate the effort."
He lowered himself gracefully to the floor before the diminishing pile, folding his arms as the other man stared at him with hollow hunger.
"I believe," the Dragon added casually, "it was fashioned from the remains of your former partner."
The man offered no response, gulping down the final fragment.
'His reserves are rising,' the Dragon noted internally.
'As expected. He is already converting the intake to fuel his technique.'
The man gasped violently and collapsed onto his back.
'This part,' the Dragon mused darkly, 'is always the most disagreeable.'
Weakly, the man extended his right hand.
Then, in a sudden motion that should have been impossible for such a broken body, he pinched and tore a thick strip of flesh from his own hand.
The Dragon sighed again as the man lifted the bloody piece and swallowed it whole.
At last, the man spoke in a broken voice.
"What enters… must also return."
All the cursed energy he had consumed erupted at once. A golden, nurturing radiance engulfed his body… not quite reverse cursed technique, but something adjacent.
Then… The light vanished.
The man went eerily still.
'I must inquire about that again,' the Dragon thought, a faint smile forming on his face.
'After all, what sort of friend keeps his technique secret?'
'He should be grateful,' the thought continued.
'This haul was far greater than the last.'
As if in response, the man's body convulsed violently.
His skin drained of color, turning ashen and gray.
His already malnourished frame shrank further still.
Suddenly, two hands tore through the inside of the man's body.
Flesh split apart violently as his fingers clawed outward, ripping his own corpse open from within. With a sickening sound, he forced his way free; dragging himself out of his ruined shell as torn skin and muscle peeled away to make room.
Moments later, he stood upright.
The man loomed over his own disintegrating body, gazing down at it in silence, before slowly lifting his eyes toward the Green Dragon seated before him.
He was no longer the same.
His once-brittle hair was now deep black and lustrous, though it fell only to his shoulders. The scruffy beard that had masked his face was gone entirely. His features appeared sharpened, as if imbued with a vitality that had been absent for far too long.
A look of renewed vigor had replaced the hollowness in his eyes.
The Green Dragon smiled faintly.
"At last," he said smoothly, voice rich with satisfaction, "you appear to be in a condition suitable for conversation."
The man returned the smile. Drawing in a slow, steady breath, he lowered himself to sit across from the Dragon.
His voice, when he spoke, was clear and melodic. His hazel eyes studied the Dragon with subtle care.
"Yes, my esteemed benefactor," he said warmly. "Thank you for your patience with my previous state. Now that you have so generously supplied me with such an abundance of energy, I am finally capable of discourse." He inclined his head slightly. "And rest assured I remember every question you posed before."
The Dragon nodded once.
"Then do not keep me waiting, my friend."
A flicker of uncertainty crossed the man's face; but it vanished almost instantly, replaced by a flawless smile, sweet and practiced.
"To begin," he said, "my ability is known as the Feast of Return. If a being consumes a fragment of another entity that has been imbued with my cursed energy, I may invoke the latter's return by offering the former as sacrifice."
The Dragon's eyes narrowed slightly as understanding dawned.
"I see."
The man continued, his tone unhurried. "However, the technique functions only under one condition. The candidate for rebirth must die by my hand… in order to be reborn."
The Dragon's eyes widened.
"So," he said softly, "they must entrust their very life to you."
"Indeed," the man replied. "Which renders the process nearly impossible, since the trust must be absolute. Should there be even a shred of doubt… the technique will fail." He paused, then smiled faintly. "That said, I may apply the technique to myself, as you have already witnessed several times."
The Dragon's smile widened appreciably.
"How fascinating."
Elegant laughter echoed throughout the dome, reverberating off the barrier walls.
Cold sweat beaded along the man's forehead. He did not need long to comprehend the immeasurable presence before him.
Then, as fear receded, something else surfaced: Sadness.
"That necklace," the man said quietly, "was indeed crafted from the flesh of my partner. The only one who ever entrusted me with his entire being."
The Dragon inclined his head, expression thoughtful.
"Yes," he said calmly. "It was… inconvenient to acquire." He paused. "I have heard impressive accounts of your deeds. Slaying sages, was it?"
For the briefest moment, the man's smile faltered. His face twitched as he struggled to maintain composure. Beside him, the remnants of his former body finally dissolved into nothingness.
"Those individuals," he said tightly, "do not deserve to be called sages."
The Dragon did not press further. He recognized a wound that was best left untouched.
The man soon recovered, his composure settling down once more.
"That said," he continued, "the amount of energy invested determines the stage of life to which I am reborn. The previous offerings were insufficient; I was unable to fully recover my mind, hence my inability to speak." He smiled again, though now there was awe beneath it. "This time, however… the quantity was truly extraordinary."
His eyes sharpened.
"No one acts so generously without purpose," he said cautiously. "I find myself uncertain how to repay such a boon, benefactor."
The Dragon laughed softly, brushing a few loose strands of hair behind his ear.
"It was not without risk," he admitted lightly. "Acquiring so many at once drew attention. I was even discovered while obtaining the final piece."
The man grimaced. He understood now; there would be a price.
"If I may ask," he said carefully, "why do you call me friend? We have only now spoken properly. And how might you wish me to express my gratitude?" He hesitated, then added, "And… how should I address you?"
The Dragon regarded him blankly.
"You may call me Dragon," he said at last. "Green Dragon, if you prefer. Or any title that pleases you." He paused thoughtfully. "Before we proceed, however, I would like to hear your name."
The man answered at once.
"I am afraid I cannot do that," he said. "In my culture, names carry profound meaning. To surrender it would be tantamount to inviting my demise. For now, you may refer to me as Asura."
The Dragon smiled, clearly amused.
"Interesting. Given the atrocities attributed to your kind, I would have expected your name to echo across history." He shrugged lightly. "But that's alright, secrecy has its charms."
He leaned forward slightly.
"The reason I aided you is simple."
He raised a finger and pointed toward his own face.
"What do you see?"
Asura stiffened, confused. His smooth brow twitched as he pondered the question.
'Is this a test?'
After a moment, he answered carefully.
"You are youthful," he said. "And powerful."
The Dragon nodded, pleased.
"Correct." His smile deepened. "Now tell me… how old do you believe I am?"
Asura did not hesitate.
"Though you appear young," he replied, "your bearing, your composure… they belong to one who has cultivated wisdom over the course of many centuries."
The Dragon burst into laughter once more, rich, resonant, and terrifying.
Asura flinched.
"Indeed," the Dragon said as the laughter faded. A trace of melancholy crept into his voice. "You are quite perceptive."
He looked upward, toward the cloudy barrier overhead.
"I do not age," he admitted quietly. "Even I do not understand why."
Grief seeped into his tone.
"The world waits for no one," he continued. "It changes relentlessly. Kingdoms crumble. Cultures vanish. People arrive… and disappear." His voice hardened. "It is never still. Never calm… Always turbulent."
Asura's expression twisted in utter disbelief.
Was the being before him truly human?
The Dragon's lips curled into a manic grin.
"I wish to make the world stop," he declared. "To preserve it… forever… within a single, perfect moment."
Asura recoiled slightly.
"W–what…?" His carefully maintained façade cracked.
Satisfied, the Dragon inhaled deeply.
"That," he said softly, "is why you are my friend." His eyes bored into Asura's. "You alone can accompany me into such a world. You are effectively immortal after all." A pause. "And more importantly… you are the only one capable of helping me create it."
The shift in his presence was overwhelming.
The Dragon stared calmly, dominantly, his gaze pinning the Asura in place.
"I do not understand, benefactor," Asura said cautiously, forcing a strained smile. "How could I possibly aid such an ambition?"
The Dragon laughed again, melodious and cruel.
"Surely," he said, "you did not believe I was ignorant of your other abilities… right?"
Asura's smile vanished instantly.
In that moment, he understood; there was only one path forward.
Lowering his voice, the Asura spoke with dangerous clarity.
"Well then… friend."
"What would you have me do?"