There was no point in dwelling on his mixed emotions any longer; Canna knew he needed to move forward. The new powers and responsibilities were overwhelming, but he was determined to figure it all out. A plan was forming in his mind, but before he could act on it, Tonitrum's three conditions weighed heavily on his thoughts.
All three conditions presented unique challenges.
The first condition, to never bow to anyone, was particularly troubling. Canna had always believed in diplomacy and alliances as the key to achieving his goals, preferring to avoid unnecessary conflict. He intended to gather information and seek help from those capable of providing it, navigating his path without making enemies. However, Tonitrum's command complicated this approach.
The ancient dragon's edict meant that Canna would have to tread carefully, avoiding any situation where deference might be expected. This required cunning and strategic thinking, as any misstep could turn potential allies into foes. The weight of this condition reminded him that every interaction could have significant consequences, forcing him to consider each move carefully.
The second condition was perhaps the most daunting: to gather five complete demigods and fifteen demigods as subordinates. Such beings were rare and immensely powerful, not easily recruited like common soldiers. Demigods did not simply emerge from nowhere; they were often individuals of significant power and complex motivations. The sheer scale of this task made Canna's head spin.
It wasn't just a matter of numbers; it was about the quality and nature of these beings. How could he persuade such powerful entities to join his cause? The absence of a time limit was a small consolation, allowing him to approach this monumental task with patience. For now, he would observe and strategize, considering how best to approach potential candidates.
The last condition was more straightforward but carried significant implications. He was forbidden from becoming subordinate to any god—a rule that resonated with his own grudges and experiences. Canna still harbored resentment towards the god who had callously sent him to his apparent death.
It was a twist of fate that had led him to Tonitrum and the power he now possessed, but the memory of that betrayal lingered. This god had treated him as a mere pawn, indifferent to his survival. The only being he was angrier with was the imp who had mockingly saluted him with a middle finger as he plummeted from the sky.
While this condition aligned with his sentiments, it also meant that any dealings with divine beings would be fraught with danger and distrust.
Each condition was a test of his resolve, cunning, and strength. Canna knew he needed to find a way to navigate these mandates while staying true to his own goals and values. The challenges ahead were daunting, but they also offered opportunities to shape his destiny.
The transformation was almost immediate: his scales vanished, replaced by his normal human skin, and his tail disappeared from sight, though he could still feel it. He realized the tail could even be used for stealthy attacks, being invisible to most.
The red portal appeared again, and this time a scythe emerged—a crimson red scythe emanating a menacing aura. The sight of it took Canna's breath away; the weapon seemed to call to him, as if it was meant for his hand. The scythe floated in front of him, and as he reached out to grasp it, the world around him faded to black.
"Hohhh, you dare touch me, dragonkin?" a deep voice echoed through the darkness, resonating with a chilling authority. Canna spun around, searching for the source, but the voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, enveloping him in an eerie void.
"You have some interesting stats, young dragon," the voice continued, now laced with a hint of amusement. "Tell me, what do you seek from me?"
Canna was taken aback; whoever this being was, they could see through his concealment and gauge his abilities. For a moment, he considered his options, deciding that honesty—or at least a semblance of it—might serve him best.
"My name is Canna Yakane," he began, his voice steady. "Where are you? Isn't a conversation more sincere when done face to face?"
As he spoke, the oppressive darkness around him began to lift, revealing a figure materializing before him. An old man stood there, his appearance entirely red—skin, eyes, hands, everything. He would have looked almost ordinary were it not for this unsettling coloration and the aura of power he exuded.
"I am Skal," the man said, his voice rich with ancient knowledge and quiet menace. "The soul residing in this scythe. It is I who empower it. Without me, it would be nothing more than a dull blade. And you, Canna Yakane? What are you, and why do you seek me?"
Canna felt a shiver run down his spine; the aura Skal emitted was potent and threatening. The encounter felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, a single misstep away from disaster. He understood that Skal was no ordinary entity; the power he sensed was immense, enough to make his skin crawl and his instincts scream caution.
Carefully, Canna measured his words, fully aware that one wrong answer could end this encounter disastrously. He needed to find a way to gain Skal's favor—or at least his neutrality—without revealing too much or making himself vulnerable.