At dawn the next day, Elijah led Jael beneath the hall, deeper into the Flame Clan compound. The air grew hotter and denser, the walls etched with ancient glyphs that pulsed with dormant flame. At the end of the corridor stood a massive bronze door, sealed with nine flame locks.
Elijah pressed his palm against the center. The door groaned open.
Inside lay a circular chamber, its floor carved with a dragon's spiral. At the center sat a pool of liquid flame—thick, golden-red, glowing with heat that could melt steel.
"This is the Ignition Chamber," Elijah said. "Dragon's Maw Ascension begins here. It is not a technique you practice—it is one you survive. If you succeed, the three royal dragon bloodlines within you will be in complete harmony. You will wield your full dragon force in humanoid form without transforming. Until now, you've fought with human limitations. After this, you will fight as a top-tier being—a dragon."
Jael frowned. "Master, I've never transformed. I don't even think I can. For as long as I can remember, I've been humanoid."
Elijah's gaze softened. "Then when you succeed, you will not only see your true form—you will feel what it means to be a dragon."
He gestured toward the pool. "Now go in."
Jael discarded his gown and stepped into the liquid flame. It wrapped around him, seeped into his veins, and coiled around his core. He sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and began to breathe.
Days passed. Then months. Then years.
Jael never left the chamber. The pool became his world. Flame seeped into his marrow, tested his spirit sea, pressed against both his flame and ice beast cores, and hammered at the ember buried deep in his soul. He endured exhaustion and pain beyond measure, sustained only by willpower and the desire to grow stronger.
Elijah visited often but never interfered. He watched silently as Jael's body hardened, his aura thickened, and his qi sharpened. There were times Jael seemed on the brink of collapse, but each time he endured—and pushed forward.
By the fifteenth year in the subrealm, Jael's body was no longer the same. His skin bore faint cracks of golden-red light, his veins pulsed with ice and flame, and his presence carried the weight of something ancient.
At last, Jael stirred. His veins blazed with golden-red flame laced with frost. His body rose above the pool, suspended by draconic flame and ice qi.
An aura erupted—a dragon twenty feet tall, wings broad, scales diamond-bright. One eye gleamed gold with a hue of blue, the other gold with a hue of red. The roar that followed shook the chamber, then the entire Flame Clan territory. Disciples froze mid-practice. Those below Spirit Fusion collapsed unconscious. Elders and higher-ups opened their eyes in shock as their blood felt like it was set on fire. Their bodies threatened to reveal their true forms, but the old monsters managed to keep them at bay.
Elijah's breath caught, then laughter burst from him. He knew the boy was special—the trace of a royal ice dragon bloodline with its own beast core, fused alongside two flame bloodlines, one his original flame line with its own core, all without self‑destructing. That alone proved his uniqueness.
Normally, hybrid dragons never survived after hatching. Dragon bloodlines and cores—especially those of opposing elements like flame and ice—clashed violently, tearing the vessel apart in self‑destruction. But this child had endured. Elijah suspected it had something to do with his father and with his sworn brother, Jalen.
Yet all of that paled compared to what Jael had awakened just now.
Dragon's Maw Ascension was meant only to refine his bloodlines, to let him fight as a dragon cultivator rather than a human. Yet in the crucible of the Ignition Chamber, the marrow remembered, and the hidden flame answered.
What lay dormant within Jael was no ordinary inheritance—it was the Verus Rex Sanguine, the true king bloodline veiled in silence until now. Pressed by the weight of the technique, tested by fire and frost, the lineage awoke.
What Elijah had intended as strength had become destiny.
The aura faded. Jael's eyes snapped open—slitted, glowing gold.
Dragon's Maw Ascension had awakened.
He collapsed back into the pool, steam rising from his scorched skin. His core was intact—stronger, sharper. His body felt transformed, as if he were a stranger in foreign flesh.
"You've achieved Dragon's Maw in far less than fifty years," Elijah said. "You truly are my genius disciple."
Jael stood, breath ragged. He drew a robe from his pocket realm, dressed, and bowed. "Thank you, Master. It's all thanks to you."
Elijah studied him. His aura was heavier, primal, carrying the weight of something ancient—pressure that surpassed even his own royal bloodline. Not only did he feel it, but all dragons within the Flame Clan felt it too.
"You will rest for the next few months before we move on to the next technique," Elijah said firmly. "And from now on, you are not allowed to leave the clan at night as you please—no more flings."
Jael groaned. "Come on, Master…"
Elijah's eyes narrowed. "If you disobey me, I'll make sure you never raise your dragon pride again. Understand?"
Jael froze, then sighed in defeat. "Alright, Master." He bowed once more and left, shoulders slumped.
The Patriarch of the Flame Clan appeared beside Elijah, his presence vast. Ricard's eyes gleamed. "Your disciple is truly something. To think—a survivor of the Verus Rex Sanguine."
Elijah lowered his head. "I knew he was special… but not this special."
A laugh escaped him, wild, almost unhinged. "To think I am his master… and to share a familial bond with the great Verus Rex Sanguine. And to think it was my family's technique that awakened his dormant lineage… I am not worthy."
Ricard's gaze sharpened. "This will shake the Draco Orbis. His awakening has already rippled across the bloodlines—royal and otherwise. Some will embrace him. Others will hunt him."
Elijah's eyes hardened, his voice low and grim. "You mean the shadow dragon race. I will cut them down before they ever reach him. Not a single hair on his head will be harmed."
"I've already ordered our warriors and elders to not only keep the boy's identity a secret but also keep watch over him at all times," Ricard replied.
"Good," Elijah said. "The next Draco Dominus must be protected at all costs. I'll go inform the old ones. As for the pests from the Iron Cloud Clan—"
"I've already eliminated them all."
Elijah laughed once more, the sound echoing like fire against stone.
"Life is truly strange. Who would have thought another Draco Dominus would appear in my lifetime? It has been a hundred thousand years since our last king. Brother… you've done well for our race."
Tears welled in his eyes as memories of his late brother surged. His voice broke into a whisper.
"I wish you were here to see this."
Normally, cultivators of Elijah's realm—or rather, those from the Imperial realm upward—could be reborn. But his brother's fate had been sealed.
From what Jalen had told him, Elijah pieced together the truth: his brother had severed his own core and drained his blood, storing them within that subrealm in the origin world for future use. It was no accident—it was a deliberate act, a final safeguard to preserve the family bloodline for another dragon to inherit.
And the only reason he would choose such a path was because rebirth had been denied to him. Whoever—or whatever—he had faced must have been a terrifying enemy, one beyond the mortal world. Perhaps even something from the Upper World.