[Reward Claimed!]
[First Disciple, "Rathalos" has joined the Dragon Court!]
"Huh?" Minho muttered weakly.
The dragon was bowing?
[System Restrictions have been raised!]
In a Pocket Dimension...
The Monarchs were gathered, already wary of what is happening.
"I thought the Shadow Monarch wiped out all of Dragons. Why is their stench corrupting the world?" Queresha scowled.
Rakkan nodded, his voice sounding impatient. "Ah, true. We are not supposed to watch him gather an army. We should be eliminating him, not coddling."
Sillad, ever so calm, smiled faintly. "Patience. The plan is not derailed, it is accelerating. Every dragon that answers the call of his core is another brick in the foundation of our victory. Let him build his army and feel powerful. It will make the moment he turns his new weapons on our enemies all the more devastating. It is all... still according to plan."
Back in the Dungeon...
Rathalos rose from his bow, his hybrid form radiating an ancient power. His voice, when he spoke, was a low rumble.
"For eons, I waited in the void, feeling the sting of our King's fall. When the call of a new core finally stirred, I crafted this trial. I did not believe. I thought it was a fragment… or worse, a thief." His piercing yellow eyes, now filled with a mix of shame and awe, fixed on Minho.
"I expected a pretender to walk through that gate. A being who inherited power, but not the will. A shadow of the true Monarch. I intended to expose you, to prove you were a nobody and erase the insult to his memory." He took a step closer, his gaze tracing Minho's battered form, the blood, the missing hand, the unwavering defiance that still burned in his eyes.
"But you are no howl of the wind. You are the storm itself."
"You did not fight with the Liege's overwhelming might. You fought with something he, in his final days, had lost: a will that refuses to break. You stood in the heart of my flame and did not burn. You consumed it. You had every right to strike me down, to erase my defiance with the very power I hurled at you… yet you stayed your hand."
Rathalos bowed his head again, deeper this time, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"That is not the act of a vessel or a thief. That is the act of a King. Not the King who was, but the King who is. You are not our King reborn… you are his successor. You are the Liege I will follow into oblivion." He closed his eyes. "My fire is yours to command."
"You shitty Lizard." Minho muttered, a barely audible chuckle escaping his mouth.
"Eh?" Rathalos raised his head, not expecting that as a reply to his speech.
Minho's wounds had already started to heal. But his hand. He looked at it. Was Dragon's Vitality ever going to restore it?
[Accomplishment! Claimed a disciple!
• Reward:
- All skills levelled up.
- Destructive potential +1000
- +1500 EXP claimed.
- Skill Update: Dragon's Vitality >> Monarch's Vitality.
- Obtained New Artifact: Obsidian Scale (+100 Defensive Output.)
- New Skill: Dragon's Fear.]
"Well… well, that's a lot, isn't it?" Minho muttered, the system screen starting to get blurry. Everything started moving rapidly in his vision. He was loosing consciousness.
"My Liege!" Rathalos called out, rushing to hold him before he hit the ground, laying him down gently. "Forgive me, I never had the belief that you would become the true Liege. I should have let Drakorra come with me. Hang in there my Liege."
"C-come closer," Minho muttered, barely above a whisper.
"Huh?" Rathalos's eyes widened, he brought his head down. "My Liege, is there—"
A sickening BOOM sent Rathalos crashing into the wall as Minho punched him. He sat up, a frown playing on his face as his brows twitched. "That's for smacking me off when I tried talking to you."
Rathalos stood, laughing nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "F-forgive me, my Liege."
"Tch." Minho glared at him for a second longer before turning to his chest. It was healing faster. 'For a moment there, I thought I was going to pass out. There really is a wide gap between the Dragon's and Monarch's Vitality.'
His eyes widened. Monarch's Vitality? So he was a Monarch after all? Was all the Frost Monarch was saying actually true?
Then his focus returned to his burnt arm. The healing had only stopped the bleeding, but it wasn't growing. He didn't feel anything there either. Was his hand actually… gone?
"Hey Ratatouille!" He yelled.
Rathalos flinched. Ratatouille? "Y-yes? My Liege,"
"I'm not done with you. How do I punish you for getting me maimed, you idiot?!" Minho yelled again.
Rathalos looked at him scratching his forehead nervously, then looked away. "I thought you were just going to grow it back." He whispered.
Minho made out what Rathalos said and his expression became puzzled. "Regrow the hand."
Rathalos turned, confused how Minho didn't know about this. "Yes. Have you never tried it before?"
Minho blinked, his expression deadpan. "Oh. Oh, yes I did. That's exactly why I have no idea what you meant by regrow it. Smart question to ask, Ratatouille."
"It is… Rathalos, my Liege." Rathalos whispered, then he spoke out loud. "Forgive me for asking such questions. You just have to concentrate the healing on the lost limb."
"I don't walk on fours. It's called hand, tch." Minho muttered, then he turned to the hand. He did all he could to focus the healing to his left arm. It was scorchingly painful. "Aaaarghhh!" He groaned.
A bone started to shoot out slowly forming the skeletal frame before being wrapped by flesh and skin. Then the burn started to dissipate, his hand going back to normal. He stretched it out, testing it. It kind of felt foreign, as if it just matched but wasn't really his.
Minho stood up. "Ratalon, you say. I have a question."
Rathalos blinked. "Ra… tha… los, my Liege. You may ask."
He waved it off, his expression getting serious. "Yeah, whatever. You know the Dragon King well, don't you?"
"Yes indeed, I do."
"You have knowledge of all the history ever since you were born?"
"Correct, my Liege."
"You know of the beings known as Monarchs and Rulers?"
Rathalos's eyes narrowed, his face contorting in anger. "Yes, my Liege."
Minho noticed the shift. "Who was the Dragon King?"
Rathalos nodded and started. "My Liege, for eons a-a-a-g-g-a—" He started to glitch, then it stopped. "Has that answered your question, my Liege?"
Minho's eyes widened, then he squinted. "Who are the Monarchs and Rulers?"
"The mona-a-a-r-r-r-r—" The same glitch happened. "That is all I know about them, my Liege."
Confused, Minho was about to say something when the system screen appeared.
[• Pop-up Quest:
- Reach Level 90.
Reward: Tale of The Dragon King, Antares.]
The "Reach Level 90" blinked for a moment as if reminding him.
"So that's why." He muttered.
The system made it clear: no information until you hit 90. It wasn't bluffing at all.