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It lay curled in death, its body half-buried in glass and molten debris. The scales that had once gleamed like moonlight were now cracked and dulled, veins of silver light leaking from within. Its wings were torn, its chest a hollow crater where Artorius's final blow had landed.
The sight silenced him. Even dead, the creature radiated power. The air around it was heavy, warped by residual aura. It was like standing before a fallen star. Artorius stepped closer, feet crunching over glass. He didn't know whether to feel triumph or grief.
Then he noticed something, the heart still beat.
It thudded once every few seconds, a vast, heavy sound that rattled the walls and sent tiny shivers through the argent floor beneath Artorius's boots. The corpse of the Noble Silver Dragon lay coiled like a collapsed mountain, its scales dulled and cracked, yet still glinting faintly under the living light that pulsed through the chamber.
The air was thick with the scent of old magic and ozone. Wisps of crystal dust drifted through the stillness like snowflakes made of light. Artorius took a hesitant step forward, his eyes sweeping across the ruin of the dragon that had tormented him for gods knew how long. He'd imagined this moment countless times standing over its broken form, vengeance fulfilled but now that it was real, he only felt… hollow.
No words came. Only the heartbeat, echoing through the bones of the tower. Something shimmered by his feet. He looked down. A small, octagonal token lay half-buried among shattered glass and silver scales. When he picked it up, his interface flickered to life.
You have obtained; Class Token — Magician(Tier 0) - A wielder of the Arcane. It's a path of thought, will, and deep understanding. Able to perform different cantrips and manipulate the forces of magic.
Artorius turned the token in his fingers. It pulsed faintly with violet light, warm against his skin, like a heartbeat of its own. "Magic…" he murmured. "I didn't think I'd ever see one of these."
Ouroboros floated beside him, his golden eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light. "The Silver One dabbled in many things," the old dragon said. "He was obsessed with the arcane. This was the path he chose to walk, more specifically the Crystal Magician path."
Artorius tucked the token away. "Might be useful later." Looking back at the Silver Dragon's heart it was enormous, the size of a large stone, its surface webbed with veins of argent light. It pulsed steadily, sending tremors through the room each time it beat. Each pulse sent ripples of mana through the air, cold and sharp as shattered glass.
"So…" Artorius said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's still beating. I thought it was dead."
Ouroboros's tone was matter-of-fact, almost bored. "It is dead. What you're looking at is its heart, the dragon heart. Death cannot silence what was forged in the first flame. It contains the essence of its bloodline, the lingering power of what it once was."
"That's… unsettling."
"Everything about dragons is terrifying," Ouroboros said dryly. "Any dragon can consume it to strengthen their blood. Absorb its essence, refine their power, grow closer to their ancestor. Though…" He cast a sidelong glance at Artorius. "In your case, it won't do much."
Artorius looked back at him. "Why not?"
"Your bloodlines are equal, boy. His is noble in origin while yours is diluted royalty. At best, you might get a minor increase to your mental attributes like a sharper mind, stronger will. If you want to refine your blood properly and want real growth, you'll need to consume something greater. A dragon with purer blood. A mightier lineage."
The old dragon drifted forward, drawing his attention shifting to the center of the throne room. Chains of blackened runic metal hung from the ceiling, converging on a massive crystalline sphere suspended in the air. The sphere pulsed faintly, glowing with a strange, harmonic light. The faintest sound came from it, a song without words, pure and mournful, resonating deep in Artorius's chest.
The melody was both beautiful and unbearable. He stared at it, transfixed. "What is that?"
Ouroboros's tone grew hushed. "That, my dear boy, is the Silver Dragon's soul. Trapped it for you."
Artorius's blood went cold. "As much as I hated that thing… I don't its right for us to torture its soul."
"It's nothing of that sort you dolt!" Ouroboros said with a chuckle. "I preserve it so that now… you can consume it."
Artorius turned to him sharply. "Consume it?"
Ouroboros met his gaze without flinching. "Yes. You killed the Silver One. Its body, its heart, and its soul are yours by right of conquest. Consume the soul, and you'll inherit fragments of its knowledge, its instincts… and, if you're lucky, its Word of Power. The one tied to its essence — Crystal."
Artorius felt his mouth go dry. "You're asking me to eat its soul."
"How else are you supposed to gain power? Power in this world is carved from the dead, boy. You think the others will show you mercy when they smell weakness? This is the way of dragons. Take or be taken."
He looked at the soul again. It pulsed in slow rhythm, like breathing. The song shifted not louder, but clearer, as though it had noticed him. His stomach churned. "It's… still aware," he murmured.
"Of course it is," Ouroboros said softly. "Souls always are. That's why it's singing."
Artorius hesitated, torn between revulsion and hunger. "Is this the only way?
"Yes. To claim the Word, you must take the memory of it from one who knew it. As you know, Words aren't taught. They're found or stolen."
He closed his eyes and took a breath. He'd come too far to turn back now. Power was the only thing that could keep him alive in this place. "Fine," he said finally. "Tell me how."
Ouroboros nodded once, satisfaction gleaming in his gaze. "Use your mutation. Draconic Communion. It will open a link between your essence and the soul's. The rest… you'll have to endure."
Artorius approached the crystal. As he drew closer, the song grew louder not in sound, but in feeling. It filled his chest, his blood, the marrow of his bones. It was like standing before a living storm. The light within the crystal brightened, rippling with shifting hues of silver and blue.
He raised his hand and placed it against the surface. Cold. Then warmth. Then something deeper than either. Activating his mutation, Draconic Communion the world shattered. He was no longer standing in the chamber. He was falling through memories that weren't his, through centuries that passed like sparks in a storm.
He saw a hatchling, tiny and brilliant, cracking through a shell of mirrored glass. The first breath filled with wonder and hunger. He saw the sky of the Eyrie, infinite and burning, where dragons flew like stars. The hatchling soared with them laughing, roaring, alive.
He saw envy, the first fracture. The others outshone him, their scales gleaming with purer light. The hatchling grew bitter. He swore to become perfect, no matter the cost. He saw experiments, the first screams. Dragons bound and broken on tables of crystal. Blood turned into formulas. Flesh turned to lessons. The Silver Dragon whispered to himself that it was for knowledge. For ascension.
He saw the tower rising, carved from his mother's claw, a monument to vanity. The Silver Dragon ruled from its heights, certain he would one day ascend. He saw madness, creeping in like frost. The experiments grew crueler. The eyes colder. He began to carve pieces of his own soul away, searching for what made the great dragons divine.
He saw the rebellion, the tower aflame, the slaves rising. He saw a man, broken but unbent, standing before him with a lance of flame. The final battle. The fall. And then darkness. The Silver Dragon's last thought echoed through the void. "I wanted to shine brighter than all."
Artorius gasped as the vision broke.
He was back in the chamber, his knees on the cold floor, his hand still pressed to the crystal. The light within was fading, dimming from argent brilliance to dull gray. The song ended on a single, trembling note then silence.
Ouroboros's voice reached him faintly, almost gentle. "It's done."
You have consumed the soul of [Noble Silver Dragon]
Then another line appeared, stark and heavy.
[You have drawn the attention of The Scaleless Dragon]
Artorius's breath caught. The name carried weight like thunder in the bones of the world. The air around him thickened, turning heavy and cold. The shadows stretched. For a moment, the world tilted.
He felt it, a presence vast and ancient, coiling through reality like a serpent of glass. A single, lidless eye opened in the air above, pale and luminous, its gaze falling upon him. Displeasure. Curiosity. Contempt.
Then it was gone. The silence that followed was deafening. Even the tower seemed to hold its breath. Ouroboros was staring at him, scales bristling. "My why do you keep drawing attention of the Great Ones," he chuckled. "You drew Seath's eye?"
Artorius blinked, still dizzy. "Who?"
"The Great Dragon of Crystal. The Scaleless One. The Mad Sage of the Dragon Kings." Ouroboros's tail lashed the floor. "You've caught the attention of a being older than most kingdoms."
The other draconic creatures outside the chamber were in a panic, their distant cries echoing up the tower. Even they had felt it. They crouched low in fear or their bodies trembled in exultation, some pressed their heads to the ground in worship. Others simply froze, eyes glazed with instinctive terror.
Artorius exhaled slowly. "Well," he said. "At least he's not here anymore."
Ouroboros gave a sharp, incredulous laugh. "You're insane. And I like it."
The little dragon turned toward the shattered gates, the horizon beyond them pulsing faintly with silver and crimson light. "Now then you have a choice before you that you need to make."
"What choice?"
The little dragon tilted his head, golden scales catching the broken light. "The easy way, or the hard one. The System doesn't care which. But it'll remember what you choose."
Artorius folded his arms, paying attention. "What's the difference?"
"The easy path," Ouroboros said, circling him lazily, "is the one already open to you. You have the Queen's Blood Crystal. All you need to do is farm your way to level twenty-five, evolve, and the Nest will open its claws to let you out. You'll be strong. Respected, even. A fine little drake among the stars."
"And the hard one?"
Ouroboros stopped before him, gaze bright with ancient hunger. "You aim higher. You chase the impossible. You make the heavens themselves take notice. We find you a patron greater than a mere queen, a Dragon Sovereign, or perhaps something even older. Their blood doesn't just evolve you, boy. It rewrites you. It turns you into something truly terrible."
Artorius frowned. "And to earn that?"
The dragon's grin widened. "You'll have to survive everything this place throws at you. Every dragon, every dungeon, every trial. You'll bleed, you'll burn, and if you're lucky, you'll ascend."
He was silent for a moment. The wind howled through the broken windows, carrying the scent of ash and crystal dust. He'd been through hell already — hunted, chained, dissected. He'd killed his captor. He could take the easy path now, escape this nightmare, fade into comfort.
But something deep in his chest stirred, the same fire that had risen when he heard the cry for a hero from the dragon creatures and answered the call. "I've seen what comfort breeds," he said finally. "Weakness. Complacency. If I leave now, I'll be nothing more than another story that ends too soon."
Ouroboros's eyes narrowed, studying him. Artorius met his gaze, steady, unflinching. "Give me the hard path."
For a moment, neither moved. Then the serpent's grin softened into something that might have been pride. "Heh," Ouroboros said, voice rumbling like a storm beneath the horizon. "I knew there was a reason I backed you."
He rose into the air, his coils gleaming faintly in the dim light. "Then listen well, Artorius Pendrath. If you're to climb higher, you'll need to understand the Nest in its entirety. Come follow me!"
They came upon what looked like a command chamber, a cavern lined with veins of crystal, a great table carved in the shape of a coiled dragon. Ouroboros extended a claw, and from the tip of his talon light unfurled, bending itself into a globe of illusion.
Artorius blinked, it was a holo-display, a three-dimensional map hovering above the table, rivers of light defining landmasses, terrain, and oceans that glimmered like living things. To say Artorius was surprised would be an underestimate as he was unsure how these creatures got access to this level of technology.
"The Nest," Ouroboros began, not noticing his shock, "is vast beyond comprehension. Every region you see, every valley, every storm, every sea was born from the corpse of a fallen dragon. Each biome reflects the essence of the one who died there. Their pride, their powers, their knowledge."
Ouroboros pointed his snout outward. "As I explained before, the dragon biomes form the first pillar. Every region out there was made when some ancient lizard big enough to bite continents who died and got tossed down here. Their bodies don't just rot, they remember what they were. That memory becomes landscapes."
"And you mentioned you can find rare resources and treasures there!" Artorius finished for him.
"Yes, for example right now we are in the Crystal Vale. Or Crystal Expanse if you're being dramatic," he said as on the display a great stretch of prism dunes made of fractured crystals and glass with reflective storms showed. "This is born from the Silver Dragon Lady. Good for Prism Dust, Argent flowers, Song Crystals, things you'll need if you wish to anchor the Word of Crystal."
He gestured to the far right, where heat shimmered. "See that glare? Infernal Plains. Flame Dragon King died there. What's left are seas of lava, volcanoes that cough up mana, and ash storms that strip scale. You can harvest Fire Orchids, Lava Scales, and Heart-Cinders good for forging fire gear and powering runic engines."
He swung his claw farther along. "Past that, under the red clouds. those floating rocks? That's the Stormreach Plateau. Thunder Ryu Lady fell there. The islands float because its lightning is still trying to lift off. You get Sky Amber, Storm Hearts, Cloudsteel everything you need if you want to fly or throw lightning."
A darker bruise in the horizon pulsed like a slow heartbeat. "That black pit? Shade Abyss, a Shadow Dragon Lord's grave. Twilight caverns, no real day, no real night. Good place to get Shadow Iron, Void Nectar, Wraith Bone… if you like things that whisper in your ear while you sleep."
"And there are many more from Verdant Maw, Obsidian Depths, Frostbound Maze, Gilded Necropolis, Eclipsed Spires, Starfall Reach, Crimson Womb, Noxious Mire, Graviton Hollows, and more."
"Sounds pleasant," Artorius joked.
"Now what I am trying to get at is that there are hundreds upon hundreds of these different biomes which can be conquered and exploited. However, each one has something that is special and key, the dungeons! These are the second pillar of the Dragon Nests."
"What are those?" Artorius wondered out loud.
"Well every big lizard who died here left more than a body, it left a path. The Nest seals those into places we call dragon legacies. You clear them, you don't just get loot, you get their way of fighting, Classes! There are other things there like techniques in some rare occurrence or skill fragments, but the main attraction are the classes like the Magician, the one you got from the Silver dragonling and there are many others from Smiths, Archer, Rogue, Warrior, Bard, and many more."
"I see," Artorius said, "however that would be of no use to me now since I already selected my class."
"What about your advanced class?" Ouroboros asked.
"Oh that," Artorius said as he pulled out the other class token that Ser Ector gave him. "I believe my path is already set."
Looking at the token in his hand and then back at him, he could have sworn he heard the little dragon muttering under his breath, "To have a silver spoon up your ass the moment you are born!"
Smiling at him maliciously, Artorius joked, "Don't worry Ouroboros you hang on to my coattails on some of my good fortune could rub off on you."
"You…" Ouroboros began, then muttered, "What do you think I'm doing?! Anyways," he said, clearing his throat and becoming more serious, "I would still attempt those dungeons, that is where all the good stuff is with the System throwing in stuff for good measure. I would especially focus on ones that are closely aligned to your path of Squire."
"Will do," Artorius nodded his head, already thinking about trying to find where this lancer class came from. "So what is the Third pillar of the nest?"
Ouroboros turned, his mane of silver fire rippling. "Biomes give you resources, with dungeons giving you classes but these alone do not make strength. The next pillar, the one that forges dragons are the Trials."
He swept a claw, and the map shimmered again. This time, constellations burned into view floating orbs of light linked by glowing lines, each one pulsing with a different rhythm. "These were created by the Great Dragons above to further test and refine young dragons into something greater. Each grants growth not just levels, but true enlightenment meaning Laws, the fundamental building blocks of the cosmos and occasionally… Titles."
"There are many of these ancient rites which test and impart many things from the Trail of Flame, Roar, Wing, Pride, Might, and countless more! Complete enough trials, and the Nest itself will begin to recognize you. The Nest is not just a prison, it is a proving ground."
Artorius nodded his head, but saw Ouroboros pause, "I sense a but."
Ouroboros's eyes narrowed. "Of course there is, finally you can say this is the 4th hidden pillar of the Dragon Nests, the competition. The ones who are standing in your way to these different biomes, dungeons, and trials, the Greater Dragons. Descendants of Elders, Lords, Kings, and Sovereigns. These are your rivals — your prey. If you wish to refine your blood and climb higher, you'll need to hunt them. Defeat them, consume their essence, and the System will recognize you as worthy of higher evolution."
"And who are they?" he asked with grim resolve.
"As I explained earlier, at the bottom are the common dragon creatures, these serve as cannonfolder. Then the uncommon dragons which are the elites. Next are the descents of dragon champions which the cream of the crop. Afterwards are the descendants of elders which rule their own territory but most of the time act as advisors and supporters for greater dragons.
Then we come to the very top, the noble blooded dragons which rule their own biomes and have many different followers. There are hundreds upon hundreds of them like there are biomes. Above them are the future monarchs which noble dragons swear fealty to and rule many different biomes with countless forces. Of them there are no more than double digits, last I heard there were 35 true royal dragons.
Finally there are the sovereigns, the great imperial lines of which there are 7 of them who rule from on high. The great masters of this nest in which you will have to take down if you wish to attract the attention of the great ones at the top."
The illusions faded once more, leaving only the sound of Artorius's heartbeat echoing through the hall. Ouroboros's eyes gleamed like twin suns behind mist. "Now you see the path before you," he said softly. "Biomes to conquer, trials to endure, dragons to devour. This is what it means to rise in the Nest."
Artorius swallowed, his throat dry. "Each of those monsters and obstacles… I have to challenge them?"
Ouroboros chuckled, the sound like thunder rolling over mountains. "You asked for the hard path, hatchling. This is it." He leaned close, his fanged grin sharp as truth. "Now—" he said, "where shall we begin?"
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A/N: Alright that should be the end of all the exposition, now we know the lay of the land and what needs to be done!