Looking at the two options floating before his eyes, the dragon frowned, and his gaze stopped on the first one.
'Tricks are great and fun, but in the end, the raw power was always much more reliable.'
He always felt that basing his defenses on evasion or other trickery was too risky, 'Avoiding attack by phasing to the fourth dimension feels great against mortals and unprepared, but can it help me resist divine-energy-infused attacks, or would they simply hit me.'
With his own eyes, he has witnessed the absoluteness of the divine energy-infused fire and how it burned even time and void when he willed it. There was no reason to hope and pray that it couldn't burn him just because he was phasing.
No matter how he looked at it, it felt too flimsy, uncertain, and unreliable when compared to the terrifying defenses of the first option.
'Nothing but tricks, great against weaker foes and stronger foes without power to counter, but if I ever meet an enemy that can deal with my tricks, I would be in trouble.'
Out of all the powers of the second evolution, only one made him consider it: the powerful clones and the power to overwhelm his enemies with sheer numbers.
He wishfully sighed, but ultimately, he refused to choose the second option.
'It might be good and powerful, but the first path is much more predictable, and is already a continuation of my path.' Vesuvius confirmed his choice.
The darkness around him deepened, swallowing light as if it were a starving beast, and the tiredness that once submerged him now vanished like a shadow at noon. The golden sigil on his chest erupted with searing heat, casting away all remnants of drowsiness.
In the next breath, Vesuvius found himself floating in a vast circular chamber, walls shimmering with the luster of pure gold, a grandeur that defied time itself.
The tall pillars and throne rose in the circular formation around him, each burning and shimmering with violent elemental energy, illuminating the golden hallway.
'Something dragged my consciousness here...' The realization struck him like a lightning bolt as his eyes, now aflame with golden fervor, grasped the implication.
The chamber, steeped in the silence of anticipation, awaited his inquiry.
"You stand at the precipice of a great step, yet you wander in the shadows of ignorance." The storm dragon king broke the silence, his voice resounding with tiredness, "We will tell you what you need to know."
"And the toll for this wisdom?" Vesuvius parried without a moment's delay, his skepticism palpable. No matter how respected and ancient the dragons before him were, he refused to believe they would give him something for free. It was simply too unbefitting of dragons.
The response came from the soul of Jormundgandratius, "Seek out the scattered remnants of our legacies, our bodies, our surviving bloodlines, and our hoards. Gather them all."
'The souls of the dragon kings are active even after their deaths. Those old foxes! They want to be resurrected. No, if it were simple to resurrect them, then the dragon god or someone else would have done it already. Their bodies are long destroyed, so what if their souls are still active and conscious.'
"What is the advice?"
"Beware the slimy deity of knowledge," Satanael spat out words filled with content and demonic wrath, "They always like to plot in the shadows, carrying their plans no matter the cost or collateral damage. Yet they always pathetically hid behind others, using them as tools."
The word immediately piqued the dragon's interest. Even he had to admit that he always had bad feelings about their constant planning, scheming, and methods they used.
'They thrive in turmoil and chaos...' he mused silently, a thread of apprehension weaving through his thoughts.
"The chaos they created," declared a voice, ancient and fraying, yet laden with an authority that seemed to bend the very air, "Their move to bring void walkers we have expelled before back, and their moves and manipulation to create a new dragon king with powers and affinities that should not belong to dragons, breaking the balance."
The air in the chamber thickened as another spectral entity added its voice to the somber chorus, its tone a mournful echo of a long-forgotten past. "This convergence of their acts, it heralds their ultimate ambition. They are orchestrating—"
Abruptly, the image of the golden throne room shattered, turning into quickly dissipating motes of golden light.
Vesuvius found himself adrift once more in the darkness of the black hole.