The cave was so quiet, the only sound was the faint hum of the magicules swirling around Veldora's body. His golden eyes never left Atem, glowing with a strange mixture of pride and amusement.
"So then, Atem Pharaoh," Veldora began, puffing out his chest even though the barrier kept him coiled in place, "what is it you wish to know from me, hmm? You didn't walk all the way here just to stare at my magnificent form, did you?"
Atem crossed his arms, his expression calm, but his eyes sharp. "I want to understand this world. Its power, its rules… and the beings who shape it. You've lived for centuries, Veldora. You must know much."
The Storm Dragon's grin widened, his jagged teeth glinting in the crystal light. "Ho! Straight to the point, are you? I like that! Very well, listen closely. In this world, strength is everything. The weak serve, the strong rule. And at the very top…" He leaned his massive head closer, his breath like a rushing gale, "…are beings like me. The True Dragons."
"True Dragons…" Atem repeated, his brow furrowing slightly. "So you are not the only one?"
Veldora laughed, the sound shaking droplets from the cave ceiling. "Of course not! There are others. My elder sister Velzard, the White Ice Dragon—cold and merciless. My other sister Velgrynd, the Flame Dragon—hot-tempered, quick to fight. And our creator, the strongest of us all… Veldanava, the Star Dragon God." His voice held a note of reverence when he spoke the last name. "Compared to them, I am but the youngest. Still, even I am feared as a calamity across the land!"
Atem nodded, taking in the names carefully. His mind already mapped these pieces of information like puzzle fragments. "And below the True Dragons?" he asked.
Veldora swished his massive tail, the movement sending waves of magicules through the barrier. "Below us are Demon Lords—monsters of immense power who carve their names into the world. Each commands armies, nations, or territories. Some are cunning, some are savage, but all are dangerous. Then you have the humans—kingdoms, guilds, adventurers… They wield 'Skills,' just like you. Everyone does, to some degree."
Veldora announced, waving a huge claw as if pointing at the world. "Common Skills are basic—see in the dark, hold your breath, stuff like that. Extra Skills are rarer. Unique Skills? Those change your life. A person with a Unique Skill can shake a nation. And above all are Ultimate Skills—the kinds of powers dragons and gods use. Those aren't for most folks."
Atem nodded slowly, listening, storing every word. He asked one small question so Veldora would keep talking: "Who stands above the rest? Who should I watch out for?"
Veldora's grin split his massive face. "Ah—Demon Lords. Now we get to the fun part. Let me name some so you remember."
He rattled them off with the relaxed pride of someone listing favorite toys:
Guy Crimson — "A red god of war. A primordial demon and the first demon lord, always becareful around him...he is a battle maniac and fight to kill but very smart nonetheless."
Milim Nava — "Cute face, terrifying heart. She's chaos in a human form—childlike and wild. Don't be fooled by the giggles."
Dagruel — "Just smash. The king of the giants. If you see him, you probably want to run in circles."
Luminous — "Elegant and pale. A vampire type. She reigns her territory as a goddess"
Leon — "He used to be a human herk. Now he carries himself like a demon lord. Prideful, skilled with blades, and dangerous if insulted."
Carrion — "The Beast king, proud warrior who respect strength."
Frey — "A Harpy. Beautiful, elegant, and deadly from the air. She controls winds in her court."
Clayman — "Oh, Clayman—he's the puppeteer, the schemer. Makes people dance for him without them knowing."
Veldora added little flourishes as he spoke—an exaggerated imitation of Guy Crimson charging a hill, a silly face for Milim, a theatrical whisper for Luminous. Atem found himself smiling despite himself. The dragon turned every danger into a story, which somehow made it easier to remember.
"So they all rule in their own ugly ways," Atem said. "Some with force, some with tricks..."
Veldora continued. And now "Names...names are huge here! If you name a creature properly—really give it a name—it grows. A little goblin becomes a lord. A wolf becomes a beast commander. But—" he wagged a talon like a teacher, "naming costs. It eats your magicules. Give out names like candy and you'll be empty when the real fight comes."
Atem folded that in with the rest of what he'd been learning in the cave. Naming was a gift and a bargain. It fit with what he'd practiced—binding spirits, honoring them, stabilizing them. He kept his knowledge private, though. He let Veldora explain it loud and silly, while he filed the details away in the quiet places of his mind.
"Are Demon Lords allied or alone?" Atem asked, stepping carefully through the questions so Veldora would keep offering examples.
Veldora's great eyes glittered. He let out a sound like distant thunder, part amusement, part pride.
"They have a council," the dragon said, slow and satisfied. "Not a friendly tea party—more like a meeting where everyone brings teeth. Guy Crimson sits at the head. Big, red and scary, he keeps order because nobody wants Guy angry. He's the one who makes sure the others don't tear each other apart and keeps the balance in the world."
Atem nodded. He had expected politics; he did not expect Veldora to have such a blunt way of putting it. The dragon continued, warming to the subject.
Veldora's pupils narrowed for a moment, like a storm watching a small bird. " let me not forget Ramiris," he said, with a little twist in his voice as if the name tasted sweet and bitter together. "Don't let the small voice fool you. She's a problem wrapped in sugar."
"Ramiris?" Atem repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," Veldora said with a sly grin. "A curious one, that pixie. She used to be the Fairy Queen, radiant and mighty. Her dominion over spirits was unmatched, her light pure. But… fate played a cruel trick. She absorbed a torrent of corrupted magicules long ago. It twisted her, weakened her, until she could no longer maintain her regal form."
His booming voice softened, almost carrying a note of pity.
"And so, she shrank—reduced to the form of a pixie. Small. Childlike. And vastly weaker than she once was."
Atem's expression hardened. "From a queen… to a pixie. That is a cruel fate indeed."
"Hmph, don't let her appearance fool you, though," Veldora chuckled, waving a claw the size of a boulder. "Ramiris may be a tiny thing now, fluttering about like a mischievous child, but she is still a Demon Lord. Her magic is tricky, her spirit arts still hold power, and—most interesting of all—she built herself a labyrinth. Some even go there to seek the blessing of spirits."
Atem's eyes gleamed with interest at that last part. "A labyrinth… where spirits grant blessings?"
"Indeed," Veldora said, his grin widening. "Ramiris guards it jealously, but those who pass her trials may earn the aid of a spirit. It is one of the few paths for mortals who seek to become heroes—or at least, stronger than the weaklings they were before."
The cavern grew quiet for a moment, the heavy weight of Veldora's words lingering. Then the dragon let out a rumbling laugh.
"Still, between you and me, Pharaoh… she is rather… how shall I put it… annoying. Talks endlessly, flits about without focus, always nagging! Hahaha!"
Atem allowed the faintest smile to tug at his lips. "Annoying or not, she sounds… interesting. A fallen queen turned pixie who yet holds the title of Demon Lord. Perhaps one day, I will see this labyrinth myself."
Veldora's eyes twinkled with amusement.
"Oh-ho! Now that would be a sight! Atem the Pharaoh striding into her little maze. Hah! You'd terrify the poor pixie just by standing there. Still…" His voice grew lower, more serious, "tread carefully. Even diminished, Ramiris is unpredictable. And when it comes to Demon Lords, appearances are the greatest lie of all."