Chapter will be divided into half!
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Artorius stood at the base of the tower's grand staircase, his eyes flicking over the towering structure before him. The silver-gray metal of the building's exterior was cracked and scarred from the previous battle, yet it still held a sense of immense majesty.
This Tower was a place of knowledge and research that spanned 15 floors, each serving a unique purpose in the grand design of the Silver Dragon. The scent of burnt metal, ozone, and ancient knowledge lingered in the air. There was a stillness here now, a silence that was eerily profound, a stark contrast to the chaotic battle that had taken place only days earlier.
The battle had left its mark, and yet, the tower still stood. Now, it was time for Artorius to assess what remained, for he and his forces would need every advantage to survive what was to come in this deadly place.
"Let's take stock," Artorius muttered to himself, stepping forward.
The entrance hall was vast, its vaulted ceilings stretching high above, supported by the spires of ancient stone columns. The intricate mosaics that once decorated the walls were now shattered, their pieces scattered across the floor like fallen shards of forgotten history. Artorius could see remnants of the battle; charred patches of floor, some broken pieces of crystals and the occasional overturned lab equipment. But beneath it all, there was still the presence of something greater, a legacy of knowledge.
He turned left and began moving deeper into the tower, passing through hallways lined with doors. On his right, a laboratory door creaked open, and Artorius peered inside. The lab had once been a pristine place of study, where the Silver Dragon had dabbled in the most forbidden of magics. But now, it was a scene of devastation, papers scattered across the floor, glassware shattered, and bubbling concoctions still smoking faintly in the corners.
Yet, some parts of the lab had survived, including an ancient bookshelf lined with dusty tomes on advanced transmutation, soul magic, and geometric theories. Also he had focused on genetic modification, creating hybrid draconic creatures and experimenting on their abilities
It was here that Artorius felt the pull of the Silver Dragon's obsession with experimentation, particularly with other draconic creatures. These research notes were priceless, and he knew he would need them.
Continuing upstairs he came upon the Crystal Forge, where the Silver Dragon had forged powerful artifacts and weapons infused with draconic essence. The forge itself was an impressive feat of engineering, an intricate lattice of magic and technology woven together. Though the forge had been damaged, the core spark of magic still glimmered. There were resources here; rare ores, enchanted gemstones, and fragments of arcane tech that could be used to craft magical items. This was a treasure trove waiting to be reclaimed.
Ascending the stairs to the Observatory, it was one of the most magnificent chambers in the tower, though it too had suffered from the destructive forces. The large, circular room was mostly intact, and the cracked glass ceiling offered a stunning view of the storm-shrouded sky. A massive runic telescope, though damaged, still functioned at a basic level. It was used to survey the surroundings to scan for approaching threats, spot enemies, and monitor the distant biomes.
With a deep breath, Artorius turned and exited the Observatory. The tower was a vast labyrinth of research facilities, training rooms, and personal chambers that the Silver Dragon had filled with countless relics of knowledge. But it wasn't all treasure; there were dark memories here as well, and Artorius had no intention of lingering too long in these halls of scientific madness.
Artorius descended again, the echo of his boots reverberating through the broken corridors. He'd seen the laboratories, the forges, and the observatory, all priceless but they alone wouldn't feed his forces or rebuild the ruins. He needed resources. Something tangible.
"Where did the Silver bastard keep his hoard?" Artorius muttered, running his hand along the cracked wall. If there was one thing he knew about dragons, no matter their nature, they always had a hoard.
"Ah," Ouroboros drawled from behind, deciding to join him in his touring of the tower as he lazily floated through the air with an almost smug air of amusement. "So you finally start thinking like one of us."
"I'm not a dragon," Artorius said, but there was no bite in his voice.
"Could've fooled me. You've killed one, taken its soul, and now you're looking for its treasure. That's three out of four."
"Just show me where the vault is."
With a flick of his tail, Ouroboros gestured deeper into the tower. "Basement level. The Silver One was paranoid even by dragon standards. Layered seals, runic locks, and an obnoxious number of security glyphs. But it should still open for you now you did kill the owner, after all."
They descended past broken staircases and shattered runes until they reached a sealed archway of gleaming argent metal. It pulsed faintly when Artorius approached, sensing his presence. The runes flickered and rearranged themselves before a deep rumble echoed through the air, the sound of ancient wards disengaging.
The vault door cracked open with a hiss of escaping magic. What lay beyond stole Artorius's breath. Mountains of scales like shimmering piles of metallic color spilled across the chamber like rivers of treasure. Not gold, not jewels, but scales of dragons. Each one gleamed faintly with inner light, resonating with life and power.
There were chests filled with crystallized mana stones, shelves of preserved organs and draconic bones that pulsed with latent energy, and racks of weapons forged from fang and claw. "By the gods…" Artorius whispered, stepping forward.
"Told you he was a hoarder," Ouroboros said, curling lazily around one of the crystalline pillars. "Behold, the Silver Dragon's legacy wealth beyond mortal counting."
Artorius knelt, picking up a shard from one of the piles. It was smooth, warm to the touch, and faintly translucent. He turned it in his hand, studying the shifting patterns of light inside it. "What are these worth?"
Ouroboros gave a satisfied hum, clearly enjoying the moment. "Well you see, in the Dragon Nest, scales are the lifeblood of trade and commerce, whatever little that goes on here. They are the currency. When dragons die, their bodies become part of the Nest, and their scales are harvested, traded, and reforged into wealth."
He slithered closer, gesturing with his claws as he spoke. "It's very convoluted with scales of different dragons of the same rank being equal to different amounts and subranks of scales converting different amounts, but to simplify it for you there are three primary grades:
Lesser Dragon Scales — those come from common or feral dragons, like the one you're holding. They're the most abundant and serve as the base currency. Greater Dragon Scales — rarer, harvested from noble bloodlines or elder descendants. Supreme Dragon Scales — now those…" His tone dropped to something almost reverent. "Those come from true Dragons. A single one of those is worth ten thousand. They're rarer than starlight and can buy armies, artifacts, or even allegiance."
Artorius looked around the vault, noticing that the scales weren't all of one kind. The deeper he looked, the more variation he saw; faint differences in size, sheen, and aura. Some glowed with a dull bronze glimmer, others pulsed with radiant blue or gold.
Artorius moved forward, brushing aside a heap of scales until his feet struck something solid, a small, runic coffer embedded into the floor. The lid was engraved with a crest of interlocking sigils. When he touched it, the crest flashed once and dissolved, recognizing him as the victor.
Inside was a shimmering scale the size of his palm, gleaming like molten silver laced with threads of pale gold. Even Ouroboros went quiet for a moment. "Supreme Scale," the dragon said finally. "How on earth did it find one?"
Artorius picked it up, watching its surface ripple like liquid light. "And what do we do with all this?"
"You rebuild," Ouroboros said. "Use the Lesser ones to pay the warriors, the crafters, the laborers, the scavengers. Trade the Greater scales with nearby factions for resources, metals, herbs, enchantments. Keep the Supreme for yourself. If anyone ever finds out you have one the amount of people coming for you in the Nest will be endless."
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There was one final stop that Artorius came to, the door hissed open with the sound of something exhaling. A wave of cold air rolled out from the darkness within; sterile, metallic, wrong. Artorius stood at the threshold of the Silver Dragon's main laboratory, his hand resting against the cracked frame. He had thought himself prepared to face anything after the battle… but this place still made his skin crawl. This was his torture room.
The air was too clean, scrubbed of life. Every surface glimmered faintly with dried residue and faint traces of silver dust. Tubes hung from the ceiling like translucent veins, still pulsing faintly with residual energy. He could still hear them if he listened too long faint echoes of screams caught between the crystals, ghosts of the things that had once been trapped here.
Ouroboros drifted in behind him, golden eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light. "Ah, nostalgia," he said softly. "Nothing says progress like a room full of tortured souls and bad decisions."
"You're enjoying this." Artorius shot him a look, he did not know if he was trying to lift his mood or mocking him, most likely it was both.
"Only because you're not," the small dragon said with a smirk. "Now come along. Try not to brood too much; we have work to do. If you want to survive, you'll need to use what's here. The Silver One's work was deranged, but brilliant. And his research on draconic physiology…" He trailed a claw across the desk, scraping away a thin layer of ash. "It might just be the key to training your body."
"I hate this place," Artorius said under his breath, stepping inside. The echo of his feet sounded far too loud, as if the very walls were listening. Artorius glanced around. Tables lay overturned, glass vials shattered into glittering dust. Yet beneath the chaos, the structure of the lab remained rings of containment glyphs, vats of suspended fluid, arrays of runic interfaces built into the walls. The Silver Dragon's obsession was everywhere.
"See those containment rings?" Ouroboros gesturing toward the central dais. "Those were used to simulate elemental stress; fire, frost, lightning, corrosion, even space exposure. You'll use them to force your draconic mutation to react. Adapt. Harden. It's what we dragons do naturally, only you're cheating."
Artorius exhaled slowly. His instincts screamed to walk away from the room. But he also remembered what Ouroboros had said earlier: "The Nest only respects strength. And strength demanded risk."
"What is this device anyways?" he asked curiously, staring up at the machine.
"The Silver One called it the Draconic Vector Engine. It bends mana levels and gravity fields to simulate extreme environments. The fool used it to push his subjects until they broke." Ouroboros's eyes gleamed. "You, however, can push yourself until you ascend."
Image: https://dragonball.fandom.com/wiki/Gravity_Machine?file=Gravity_ChamberHD.jpg
"Place your hand on it," Ouroboros said, "It's time we take over this machine."
Artorius hesitated, then obeyed, he went over to it and placed a hand on it. The orb was cold to the touch, yet pulsed faintly when his fingers brushed its surface. Then the machine hissed opened, runes unfolding like blooming petals. The light of the Vector Engine reached out, merging with it in a slow, almost reverent motion.
The air rippled. The broken walls of the laboratory seemed to fold, drawn inward toward the orb. Machinery, glyphs, and energy arrays melted into light and were absorbed, collapsing into the device.
Then he watched it shrink, it seemed to collapse in on itself until it became the size of a giant silver orb the size of a bed. Still massive but much smaller than before. "What… happened?" he asked quietly.
"This is your new training room. A portable crucible. Scaled to suit your needs," Ouroboros's grin was pure satisfaction.
Artorius looked at it and asked, "How does it work?"
"Simple," Ouroboros said, clearly pleased with himself. "You feed it mana or blood and it unfolds into its own contained space. The interior exists in a compressed dimensional pocket. It can simulate gravity up to a hundred times normal, saturate the air with elemental energy, even conjure mana storms. Perfect for testing your Adaptability."
He tilted his head. "Though I'd advise you not to start with the hundred-fold setting unless you want your bones to implode."
Artorius couldn't help the faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Noted."
"Want to go for a test run?" Ouroboros asked. "There is no time like the present. If you want to refine yourself into the perfect being you have to get started at some point."
"Maybe another time," he shook his head. "I had enough from before," he muttered.
"Fine," Ouroboros smiled, serpentine and sly. "Then welcome, Artorius, to your Crucible of Evolution. May it burn you into something worthy of your own legend."