“Any other child and you would risk everything to protect them! ‘All for our happiness,’ you told us those vows and you kept it, Eltharion! You kept them up until now; prostrating yourself against your very nature to assure a fantastical peace, as if we dragons are somehow better than other races in this matter. We. Are. Dragons.”
‘We show our worth through strength. A female wishes for their mate to be the strongest, and so does the male.’ Melloxtressa ...
Those words fluttered inside Eltharion’s mind as he walked through the volcanic pathways directly underneath the Black Citadel. Alone, like the many years up until this point, the dragon emperor did not mind the lonesome road as the only sounds echoing through this magma chamber were his steps and the roaring flames around him.
Traveling in his [Elvenized (Minor)] form, as his rank SS form was far too titanic for the humongous underground, Eltharion eyed the scratch scars on the walls. Memories of his past, before the arrival of the Origin Gods and how they dragged their issues into Peolynca, resurfaced for a moment, causing the ancient dragon to feel nostalgic, only to have forget it a moment later.
What remained was both regret for what had just happened a few hours ago and the rage he felt towards the gods and, especially, his father—God of Dragons and Oaths, Kargryxmor. Although Eltharion’s brain and general biological function barely degraded despite being over 3000 years old due to his rank S evolution, nor did he suffer an illness or disease, it was his soul that made it hard for him to remember.
It was the curse of immortality and longevity, and this was a phenomenon that affected every single mortal, whether they be dragon or human. Although one’s body remained at its peak condition, the soul would degrade regardless due to stagnancy and boredom. Weakened, it would affect the immortal’s mind and, eventually, their body, even if they technically should be healthy.
The cure for such an ailment was a stimulus strong enough to shake the person, whether positively or negatively. Until this happened though, sleeping and long rests that might span years could treat and prolong one’s will to live. However ... if everything failed, death would become a wish for the aging individual.
... Again. I see your faces, everybody. Our time together as siblings until we faced each other in the skies. Your cries, your last words, your regrets as your dream for an empire turns into cinder within my flames.
The memories, though, would never be lost. Similar to Hestia’s fractured soul, they were there, only buried underneath everything else.
Eltharion, having remembered the source of all the wall markings, stopped as the faces and personalities of his six siblings flashed in front of his eyes. As the eldest, Eltharion had taken care of each one, as his father, Kargryxmor, was often gone in his pursuit to conquer the entirety of Miononbolax. It was him, his mother, and his younger siblings that would periodically come into his life.
This wasn’t even mentioning the elven and dwarven wives Kargryxmor had taken into his harem, nor the dragonewt half-siblings he would then have. Eltharion, having inherited his mother’s wish for a peaceful family, always prioritized his younger siblings over even himself. He wanted to be the strongest so he could protect them ... although he couldn’t deny it was also for his pride as the first born and the co-developer of the [Battle Frenzy] meditation process.
Yet, all those relationships reached a crossroad after the demon war.
Unlike his siblings and his wives, Eltharion was a participant during the demon war. This meant he fought with his father, mother, and the other long-gone ancient dragons, forcing him to leave Kargryx in the year 36 after the Origin Gods when the war officially began with the invasion of the seven archdemon. It only fully ended in 118.
With no emperor, empress, or heir-apparent available during this time, the rule of Kargryx was naturally handed down to the second eldest of the Kargryxmor clan and their trusted advisors. Power once given was hard to give up, and this applied to all of Eltharion’s siblings and the people they surround themselves with.
To those of Kargryxmor’s generation, the aftermath of his apotheosis only involved their adaptation to the rules of the divine realm, while for Eltharion, it was as if he had arrived in an unknown world. 82 years, normally, was nothing for a dragon, but during these chaotic times, it was enough for a massive upheaval after all the former ancient dragons left in 121.
Only two years later, the Dragon Ascension War began when the Dungeon of Infinite Feasts was created. The power vacuum sucked in every single power-hungry dragon.
The [Battle Frenzy] training was supposed to curb our desire for battle, but this is our nature. One cannot hold back a being’s true self. We are dragons.
Eltharion’s mind had replayed the events of the civil war over and over again, agonizing over if he could have stopped it in any way without possibly sabotaging the demon war campaign. Yet, every single scenario had never ended well. His younger brother, the second eldest, was far too gone once he had tasted the power of the crown.
It should have been obvious to another Kargryxmor. Their father, after all, was the Black Tyrant of the Skies.
He took a step into the magma chamber, eyeing the massive “flowers” gracing this medium-sized room with nostalgia. Fire dragons didn’t appreciate the concept of a garden like the earth and forest drake, preferring stalactites and lava rivers inside their roosts. Yet, in this room underneath their home, his mother had created a flower bed made from the loyalty scales Kargryxmor had received as a sign of fealty after the Kargryx’s founding.
“In the lower cavern underneath the black stone, we saw the rise of the orange glowing tulips. Your eyes glowed like the core of the planet; a brilliant red as all of you swore with your tails locked together.” Hestia had told him.
The quote was nothing special by itself, but to Eltharion and his siblings, it was an unforgettable memory as they too were involved in this flowerbed’s creation. They helped their mother sort through the numerous scales, categorizing them in colors and sense of touch, before building these house-sized “flowers” by hand.
He remembered his younger siblings joking around how this place would be theirs alone as it was forbidden for dragons to enter the Black Citadel’s underground without permission. Therefore, each of his siblings proposed to grant their flower a twist to immortalize themselves in them.
Seven flowers towered over the rest. One of them, designed like an orange tulip, was his. “Perfect and deep love” was the meaning for such a flower amongst botanists, a fact he learned from his mother.
Right, my vow ... I promised to cherish my siblings and protect them from everything; love them unconditionally. I’ve ... When did I forget about this? When ... When I vowed to protect Kargryx and become its emperor by defeating my siblings. Two vows contradicting each other.
Eltharion grit his teeth, falling onto his knees as he felt a cold burn on his shoulder. The wound was healed due to the holy dragons who arrived in a timely manner, but he could still feel it sting.
Is this punishment?
“... Mother, you told Hestia of those words to remind me,” Eltharion spoke into the empty room. “Yet, you too have sinned like Father, leaving us alone like that. You two left us in the worst time possible. Is this your wish to ask for forgiveness?”
... Father. I see, I’ve regained ‘faith,’ it seems. Eltharion scoffed with disgust.
Eltharion hadn’t been able to properly hear Kargryxmor in years, only receiving broken messages after the latter continually insulted his children. This sentence was complete, and despite that, he didn’t feel his soul breaking from the divine message.
“And it is because your Champion caused enough of a ruckus that I’ve become aware of the smaller issues in my empire.” Eltharion grit his teeth as he remembered Fargryneill retelling her misgivings of dragon culture, and how Ryranakus was treated by one of his oldest allies. “What do you want?”
“I will not be your peacekeeper, Father,” Eltharion shot the request down. “I do not care if the Edjurl gods’ influence has once again tainted Peolynca. This is the fault of the Origin Gods; everything is their fault! Their arrival to our world has spiraled it into this direction.”
“Then they should solve the issues themselves and deal with the demonkin. Treating those fiends as if they were Peolyncians, only because they share blood with humans, is ridiculous and has kept this war between them and the humans ongoing for years. Why must I risk dragon lives for their mistake?” Eltharion snarled. “Have them send their blessed and solve it then!”
“You bastard ...” Eltharion wished to speak back but suddenly clutched his chest as he felt a sharp pain course through his body. His soul was screaming.
And with that message, Kargryxmor turned silent as the emperor stood back up, leaving the tulip flower cavern.
... Am I to be an emperor or father? Am I to uphold my vows as a husband, or will I leave them be to act?
With nobody to confide to, Eltharion kept those thoughts to himself as he returned to his roost. His discussion with his father and the memory of his family during a happier time kept him awake for the first night in years. He did not need to hibernate.
I must do what I have to while I still live.