They talked until the notion of time blurred. Hours folded into days; Veldora rambled like a storm with nothing to do, and Atem kept asking the right questions—small, careful ones that pulled facts from the dragon's endless appetite for stories. Atem wanted to learn everything before he stepped outside. The names Veldora dropped—Guy, Milim, Dagruel, Leon, Luminous, Carrion, Frey, Clayman—sat in his head like markers on a map. The more he heard, the more certain he became of one thing: he had to get stronger.
While Veldora boasted about old raids and storm games, Atem let the dragon prattle and slipped a question into the quiet of his mind.
<
There was a soft, very calm reply inside his head — the Oracle of Eternity, speaking plainly and without ceremony.
< You do have outsized advantages: your Unique Skills give you leverage in shaping battles, absorbing strength, and setting terms. That means you can defeat stronger foes indirectly by choosing the ground, the rules, and the timing. But in straight power terms — reservoirs, centuries of experience, scale of armies — those Demon Lords are far above where you currently stand. Grow your reserves, take high-quality essences, and evolve your Deck. With strategy and care you can become the kind of threat that forces them to notice you as a peer rather than an annoyance.>>
Atem let the Oracle's words settle like stones into the lake of his thoughts. The answer was harsh and honest — exactly what he wanted. He felt the small tightening in his gut that always came before a plan.
He stayed silent in front of Veldora, letting the dragon continue a boisterous tale about a storm that once annoyed a mountain. Veldora's voice was loud and delighted, totally unaware of the exact calculus playing out behind Atem's calm face. Atem smiled faintly and kept his tone casual as if he really were still learning his first lessons.
Atem stood at the lip of the hollow and looked back once more. Veldora's coils filled the space like a sleeping mountain; the crystal light around him pulsed softly, as if the dragon's breath moved the cave itself. The air tasted of metal and old rain. For a moment the two of them simply looked at each other—student and storm, ruler and riddle.
"I believe it is time for me to take my leave," Atem said, voice steady. It sounded ordinary, but it carried the weight of every lesson he had learned in that cave.
Veldora blinked, and the laughter that had filled the hollow faded into something quieter—almost like a child being told a game is ending. Atem noticed the change the second it happened: the dragon's huge eyes clouded with an odd, thin sadness. The corner of his mouth twitched. He furrowed his brow, then, quickly, tried to hide it with a huff.
"Why leave so soon?" Veldora grumbled in a tone that tried to sound annoyed but sounded a little hurt instead. "It's not like I wanted you to hang around forever or anything—don't get the wrong idea! I just—uh—wasn't done talking. That's all!"
Atem's mouth softened. He had seen that look before in other people: a half-anger thrown up to hide how much they didn't want to be alone. The dragon's tail thumped once, not hard, but enough to send a little grumble through the stone. Tiny dust drifted down from the ceiling like confetti.
"Destiny calls me outside," Atem said after a breath. "There are powers and people I must learn from, and tasks I cannot accomplish from here. My place—if fate asks me—is beyond this cave."
Veldora's expression shifted again, trying to switch from wounded to clever. "Hmph. What if I'm part of that destiny, huh? What if you were meant to meet me so you could—" he paused, trying for a grand sound that came out more like a stubbed toe, "—be my sworn playmate for eternity? You'd come back, wouldn't you? Right? Right?"
For a second Atem considered the dragon's words. He could almost hear the old ripple of expectant thunder in them. It was the kind of bold, childish idea Veldora loved—dramatic, reckless, full of noise. Atem's mind sketched the logic without the drama: Veldora could be a crucial ally if freed; bonds with dragons change the balance of power. But the dragon's condition—sealed, confined—made the suggestion impractical.
"How could you be part of my destiny if you are sealed in this cave?" Atem asked gently, not to mock but to test the thought. He let the question hang in the cool, heavy air.
Silence stretched. Veldora's mouth opened as if to answer, then closed. The dragon's eyes darted away to the stone, then back at Atem, and for the first time in hours he seemed truly at a loss for words. His great head lowered, not in defeat but in confusion. The bullying bravado had nowhere to land.
"You—" Veldora began, then stopped. A faint puff of steam curled from his nostrils, and he muttered under his breath like someone trying to hide a smile. "That's… well. You make it sound so simple and so boring. Of course it's complicated. You're being ridiculous. Don't expect me to believe a word of it."
Then as the silence between him and Veldora stretched, Atem's gaze shifted to the great shimmering seal that bound the dragon. The magical barrier pulsed faintly, like a heart behind glass, humming with power older than centuries. He felt its weight, its depth — the lock of a god, not just a man.
He narrowed his eyes. What kind of force could bind a creature like this?
Without speaking aloud, he turned inward. Oracle of Eternity, he called in his mind, his tone steady. Tell me… is it possible to free this dragon from his prison?
< Atem's brows furrowed. So it was a Hero's doing… that explains why Veldora has endured here so long.
The Oracle continued, her tone calm but insistent.
< Atem let that settle in. His fists clenched loosely at his sides. So brute force will not do. I would need precision… or a vessel.
The Oracle's voice softened slightly, as if recognizing his line of thought.
< For a moment Atem was quiet. He let his gaze fall back on the dragon. Veldora, who now hummed to himself, muttering about storms he wanted to show the world again, completely unaware of the quiet calculation playing out behind Atem's eyes.
To take a True Dragon into my Deck… it would mean power beyond anything I could summon now. But also danger. If I fail, I lose everything. If I succeed…
His lips pressed into a thin line. Destiny doesn't make paths easy.
At last, Atem spoke aloud, his tone even. "I see. Thank you, Oracle."
The dragon lifted his massive head at the sound of Atem's voice. "Eh? Did you say something?"
Atem looked at him, his face calm. "Nothing yet, Veldora. Just thinking."