The system storage space was massive—if it couldn't hold all this, that would be strange.
Rayder didn't even bother to examine each item closely. He simply tossed them into the system space without a second thought. What truly interested him were two things: the dragon eggs and the books.
Each time he unearthed a dragon egg, he immediately used the system to check its vitality. After a full inventory, the count stood at 632 active dragon eggs. Many others were broken or completely inert, bringing the total number of eggs discovered to 868.
Rayder didn't discard the lifeless ones either. Even if they couldn't hatch, they might still serve as research material, trophies, or decoration later.
As for the books—they were in far worse condition.
Only 127 volumes were fully intact. The rest were damaged, fragmented, and illegible, their pages torn or charred, their ink faded into blurred patches. It was impossible to count the ruined texts accurately, but if piled together, they could easily fill a sizable room in the dragon's lair.
Still, Rayder wasn't discouraged. He knew that buried within these crumbling relics were potential secrets of Valyria's past, and perhaps even clues to the Dragon King's bloodline.
It took nearly two full months for Rayder and Ghidorah to complete their excavation of more than thirty ruins scattered across the volcanic chain known as the Fire Peaks.
By the end, even Ghidorah wanted to quit.
The endless high-intensity digging—combined with Rayder's frequent "love education" (which mostly involved bonking Ghidorah on the head when it got lazy)—had worn down the poor dragon's enthusiasm. Its three little heads were often filled with resentment and exhaustion.
But things weren't that simple.
Dalang, the most cunning of the three, always found a way to push Kevin (Sanlang) into doing the most work. Erlang, too honest and impulsive, followed orders blindly. As for poor Kevin, who just wanted peace and snacks, he could only accept his fate and dig.
Even so, they had made real progress.
At one point, Rayder had an idea: why not use Gravity Rays to break apart the ruins?
The results were astonishing.
Mountains of stone collapsed like sandcastles, saving time and energy. But poor Ghidorah—every time he used the skill, smoke billowed from his mouth, and his body trembled like a hollowed-out bell. Afterward, the three heads would scrunch up into pitiful little faces full of despair.
Still, the lure of metal snacks—occasionally dug up from the ruins—kept Kevin going. Despite the suffering, he powered through, clawing the earth with weary determination.
Rayder, meanwhile, found himself physically and mentally exhausted. Digging day in and day out, sifting through rubble and dust, left him bone-tired. And worse, he began to realize a troubling truth: there were too many Fire Peak fortresses—over thirty, at least—and each one was colossal.
Every fortress had once been a palace of a Valyrian Dragonlord. They weren't mere castles but marvels of architecture—active volcanoes transformed into lavish strongholds.
Though centuries had passed and many had been destroyed in the cataclysms of the Doom, their skeletons remained—massive, sprawling, and impossible to fully uncover. Each ruin was a sleeping beast of stone and ash.
At some point, Rayder had to admit the truth: digging alone wasn't enough. If he continued at this pace, he might never find the answers he sought.
So, he changed tactics.
He called Ghidorah over and made a tempting deal.
"All the metal you dig up from now on," Rayder promised, "is yours."
To Ghidorah, metal wasn't just food—it was fuel, strength, and growth.
Kevin's eyes lit up. His defeated expression vanished, replaced with a spark of excitement. He didn't exactly want to keep digging, but for the sake of metal? He could endure.
Although his pace was slower than before, he got back to work with determination.
Rayder, freed from constant excavation, turned his attention to the books.
He hoped to find clues—anything that could explain the guardian power protecting Fire Peak, or perhaps records from when the fortresses were originally built. A single hint could change everything.
Ironically, he recalled how he used to fail English tests in his previous life. But fortunately, the body he now inhabited—descendant of a Valyrian line—had a strong foundational education. At least, he wasn't illiterate.
With a tired smile, he began flipping through the pages.
He focused especially on the most battered, fragile, and timeworn books. He believed that the older and more weathered the volume, the more likely it contained forgotten knowledge.
He turned each page with utmost care, as if handling butterfly wings. One wrong move and the page might disintegrate. These fragments carried history—he would not let them vanish.
Days passed.
Rayder pored through the tattered tomes like a man panning for gold. And finally, buried beneath a heap of crumbling leather-bound books, he discovered a relatively intact thick volume. A complex flame emblem was carved into its dark red cover.
The book's title had faded, but the moment Rayder opened it, he was bombarded by a nauseating wall of flattery.
The opening chapter was an endless stream of grandiose praise:
"Divine ancestors who conquered the world,"
"Embodiments of wisdom and courage,"
"True heirs of dragon blood,"
…and so on.
Rayder groaned.
"Give me a break…"
He skimmed past the praise, searching for actual content. Eventually, he struck gold.
The book contained records of the Fourteen Fire Peaks—the volcanic chain that had once connected the Valyrian Peninsula to the mainland of Essos. These massive volcanoes formed a natural bridge, upon which the Valyrians had built their empire.
It was here that their ancestors first discovered dragons.
And instead of hunting or fearing them, the Valyrians embraced them.
Using a magical item called the Dragonhorn, and performing ancient, arcane rituals, the Valyrians forged a blood bond between themselves and the dragons.
From that point on, dragons trusted Valyrians.
Rather than dominance through chains, this bond was mutual—built on dependence, especially in a dragon's vulnerable infancy.
Rayder paused.
"So that's why the wild dragons now are so hard to tame…"
Dragons who had never bonded with humans during their childhood would never accept them later. Trust was forged early. That's why modern taming techniques failed. Without the bloodline, without the ritual—humans were nothing but pests in the eyes of a full-grown dragon.
Rayder leaned back and exhaled.
It all made sense.
The blood connection between dragons and the Valyrian people was deeper, more profound, than he had ever imagined.
He flipped through more pages.
The book recorded the rise of Valyria in bloody, majestic detail.
They began as a small town beside the volcano chain, but once they tamed dragons, they challenged and destroyed the once-mighty Ghiscari Empire.
From the ashes of that war, the Valyrian Freehold was born—a vast empire that stretched across much of southern Essos. Cities, armies, knowledge, and magic… all backed by the fearsome power of dragons.
The records were intoxicating—glorious and terrifying.
Rayder was left awestruck. But beneath that awe was a single question burning in his mind:
What caused the Doom?
Why did such a mighty civilization fall? Could it be linked to the curse? The black fog?
Somewhere in these crumbling pages, he felt the answer awaited him.
But for now, at least, he had found a path forward.
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