The war hall was silent. Only the scrape of parchment and the flicker of torchlight filled the air. The map sprawled across the table was weighed with iron pins, its surface inked with mountains, marshes, and ranges marked with runes of warning.
Noctis stood at the head, spirals dimmed to narrow bands of crimson-white, yet the weight of his presence filled every corner of the chamber. The saints watched him in silence. Veyra stood at his side, her hands clasped behind her back, eyes locked on the Sovereign.
Noctis's claw hovered over the map. He traced a slow circle across the inked ridges of the Blackfang Range.
"First," he said, voice steady, "the wyverns. Their marrow burns hot with elemental density. That will feed weapons that strike fast and true. Before anything else, I want that for my legion."
He shifted his claw northward, dragging it across the marshlands marked with black ink and warning glyphs.
"Second, the Mire of Echoes. Abominations crawl there, born from corruption and war. Their bones are twisted, volatile. Dangerous, but bones like those will give me the edge I need when I reforge corruption into obedience."
Finally, his claw slid across jagged peaks marked in red.
"Last, the Spine Peaks. Titan spawn. Not true titans, but their descendants still carry marrow heavy with iron. Perfect for armor. No weapon can matter if its bearer dies too quickly — my legion will not lack for protection."
He pulled his claw back, looking over the three chosen sites. His spirals flared faintly. "That's the order. Wyverns, abominations, titans. And I'll take everything they can give me."
The words hung heavy in the hall. The saints bowed their heads in silent acceptance.
But Veyra leaned forward, her voice low. "Then you should know what awaits you."
She tapped the Blackfang Range first. "The wyverns nest high among cliffs and ravines. They hunt in packs, wings sharp enough to shear through steel. But that's not the true danger. The southern ridge of the range hides a graveyard of bones. Thousands of skeletons scattered across the valleys. No one knows if it was a war or a natural death. Legends say that place once held ancient dragons, and the wyverns are only carrion heirs, feasting on marrow that does not belong to them. If the tales are true, Sovereign… you may find more than wyverns there."
Noctis's spirals narrowed. "A dragon graveyard." His smile was thin, fanged. "Then it's the perfect place to begin."
One of the saints shifted his gauntlet and pointed to the marshlands north. "The Mire of Echoes is worse. It was a battlefield long ago, where divine wards and abyssal curses collided. The dead did not rest. Abominations crawl there — fused flesh and bone, twisted spirits. Some still wear the armor of the fallen, though their minds are gone. Their bones are valuable, but the Mire whispers. Those who linger too long hear voices. Few return sane."
Noctis chuckled softly. "Voices won't break me. If their bones hold corruption, I'll strip it clean."
Finally, another saint tapped the jagged peaks drawn in red. "The Spine Peaks are cold, treacherous, and endless. The titans that once roamed are long gone, but their spawn remain. Each one is larger than any beast you've faced outside the Titans themselves. Their marrow is heavy with iron essence — some say even their bones ring like anvils when struck. But the terrain is merciless. Avalanches, storms, cliffs that shear without warning. If you go there, Sovereign, it will test more than your strength."
Noctis placed his claw over the three sites again, one after the other. Blackfang. Mire. Spine. His spirals flared, casting crimson light across the map.
"Then it's settled. First, I claim the wyverns and whatever bones their graveyard hides. Second, I bend the abominations of the Mire. Last, I break the titan spawn and take their marrow for my armor. By the time I return, the forge will birth weapons no enemy can stand against."
His laughter filled the war hall, sharp and certain. None dared doubt him.
The dawn was red. Not the soft hue of sunrise, but a deeper shade, like blood smeared across the horizon. The air carried dust from the dunes, and the sound of banners whipping against the palace walls echoed across the capital.
Noctis stood at the eastern gate of the Twilight Capital, cloak drawn over his armor, spirals burning faintly beneath the hood. Before him stretched the open desert — endless waves of sand that would give way, in time, to the jagged ridges of the Blackfang Range.
The saints stood in formation at his back, silent as statues. Veyra stepped forward, her eyes locked on his. "You know what awaits. Wyverns are dangerous alone — but in packs, they've gutted entire caravans. And the graveyard…" She hesitated, the faintest flicker of doubt in her gaze. "If the legends are true, you may face more than carrion beasts."
Noctis's spirals narrowed. "If dragons lie there, even as bones, then they've been waiting for me." His voice carried no hesitation, only certainty.
He looked out at the desert again. The people of the capital had gathered along the walls, watching in silence. They didn't cheer this time, not like when he returned from the catacombs. The sight of him leaving again, toward a land spoken of only in whispers, weighed heavier. Mothers held their children closer. Soldiers pressed fists to their hearts.
Noctis let the silence linger. Then he spoke, his voice carrying across the sands. "Stay vigilant. Train harder. Forge without pause. When I return, the Night Legion will have marrow for blades, and bones strong enough for armor that laughs at steel. No kingdom, no demon, no angel will stand before us."
The words rippled across the crowd, steadying the silence. They didn't cheer, but they bowed their heads in respect.
Noctis spread his wings. Crimson threads wove along the membrane, glowing faintly in the morning light. With one powerful beat, he rose into the air. Sand swirled beneath him, cloaks snapping, banners straining against their poles.
The saints watched until he was only a shadow against the horizon.
And then he was gone, a streak of crimson-white threading across the desert sky, flying toward the Blackfang Range.
The jagged cliffs of the Blackfang Range rose like broken fangs against the sky. The air reeked of sulfur and ash, the ground littered with shattered bones. From every ridge and cavern came the rasp of wings and the guttural screeches of beasts that had ruled this range for centuries.
Noctis landed hard, sand and stone exploding under his boots. His spirals flared wide, threads snapping across the battlefield like chains.
The first wyverns struck before his cloak had settled.
Scaled wings cut through the air, claws gleaming like iron. Their screeches shook the cliffs as they dived, teeth gnashing for his flesh.
Noctis's grin was sharp. "Good."
He met the first with a sidestep, his body a blur as Ghost Vein carried him past its snapping jaws. His reaper blade hacked upward in a brutal arc, cleaving through its throat. Blood sprayed, steaming against the air. He spun, his cloak whipping, and slammed a second wyvern into the ground with Bloodlash Howl, bones cracking under the force.
A third swooped down. He let it come, then used Phantom Step, vaulting straight up into its dive path. His claw speared through its chest, tearing its heart free before the beast even realized it was dead.
The cliffs trembled as more poured in. Dozens, wings blotting out the sun, their screeches echoing like a storm.
Noctis's laughter rang out. "Then come. Let's see who's prey."
He surged into them.
Hack. Slash. Pierce. His body was a blur, his spirals leaving afterimages across the battlefield. Every strike cut deep, every movement chained into the next. Shadow Step carried him from flank to flank, his blade carving arcs of bloodlight. Wyverns fell in heaps, their throats torn, their wings ripped apart mid-flight.
But the numbers grew. Too many wings. Too many claws.
They swarmed from all sides, screeches deafening, bodies slamming into him from every angle. Their fangs tore at his cloak, their tails whipped like spears.
Noctis's spirals narrowed. "Enough."
His aura detonated.
"Bloodstorm VII."
The air screamed as crimson gales erupted outward, blades of blood and inverted sanctity ripping through everything around him. Dozens of wyverns shrieked as wings were torn to ribbons, bodies shredded mid-flight, bones snapping like twigs. The cliffs shook under the force, dust clouds rising high.
He followed with Radiant Barrage, inverted arrows raining down like a storm, pinning wyverns to the ground. Chains of Dominion lashed from his spirals, binding their thrashing bodies before he crushed their skulls underfoot.
Every strike ended in a devour. He bit deep into marrow, siphoning blood essence until the flesh dissolved. Each wyvern left nothing but bones, neatly bound in crimson threads and folded into his Blood Storage.
The slaughter did not stop.
He moved from ridge to ridge, cutting down entire flocks. His movement skills turned the cliffs into his hunting ground, every leap carrying him into another kill. When the numbers swelled too great, he unleashed AoEs again — World-Rend Tempest, Hymn Rupture, inverted sanctity storms that broke their formations.
Hours passed, but the slaughter did not slow.
By the time the sun began to fall, the Blackfang cliffs were silent. Only bones remained, stacked in heaps across the ridges, glowing faintly as crimson threads pulled them into his storage.
Noctis stood among the remains, cloak torn, armor stained with blood and ichor. His spirals still burned bright, his laughter echoing against the cliffs.
"Wyverns… carrion heirs of dragons. You fall just the same."
The cliffs lay silent, littered with stripped wyvern bones. Noctis stood among them, spirals burning low but steady. He inhaled the copper taste of blood that still hung in the air, then lowered himself onto a flat stone.
"Enough slaughter," he muttered. "Time to refine."
His spirals widened, threads of crimson light spreading outward. The Blood Grid unfolded before him, a vast lattice of nodes and veins. Every line pulsed with the essence of wyverns he had just devoured — Blood, Faith, Soul, Beast — all screaming for release.
The Grid trembled, hungry to evolve.
System: Resource Totals Pre-Spend
Blood Essence: 551,883
Faith Essence: 347,745
Iron Essence: 27,740
Soul Essence: 110,479
Apex Essence: 145
Beast Essence: 43,620
Wraith Essence: 5,000
Noctis scanned the lattice. Threads flickered, nodes waiting to be filled. He extended his claw, spirals tightening.
"Bloodstorm. Fangs. Tempest. My bulwark. My stance. Push them to six."
The Grid responded. Nodes opened like mouths, essence surging into them in torrents.
Skill Evolutions (Tier V → VI)
Bloodstorm VI: battlefield-scale AoE storm, siphons essence from each kill.
Crimson Fangs VI: fangs now pierce sanctified marrow, each bite restores more vitality.
World-Rend Tempest VI: kilometer-scale AoE, inversion destabilizes wards up to Tier VI.
Crimson Bulwark VI: inverted shield reflects ranged attacks, converts absorbed damage into counterstrike fuel.
Predator's Stance VI: aggressive stance; blocked hits restore essence, counters magnify by x3.
The Grid pulsed as the essence drained, his body trembling under the surge. Crimson light ran across his arms, his veins humming with new strength.
For a moment, he hovered his claw over deeper nodes. The lattice shuddered faintly, Tier VII routes glowing faintly in invitation.
He bared his fangs but did not move.
"I could force it now. Push to Tier VII. The angels and relics opened the path for me." His spirals dimmed, steady. "But if I waste it here, I'll cripple my forge. Marrow and iron come next. Bones for weapons. Armor for the legions. I'll need every drop of blood and beast essence to temper them."
He pulled back, letting the Tier VII nodes fade.
"Not yet. Tier VI will serve. Tier VII will wait until I bleed a greater foe."
System: Resource Totals Post-Spend
Blood Essence: 211,883
Faith Essence: 187,745
Iron Essence: 27,740
Soul Essence: 86,479
Apex Essence: 130
Beast Essence: 33,620
Wraith Essence: 5,000
Noctis rose from the stone. His fangs glinted with new light, storms curled faintly at his back, his shield shimmered with inverted hymns. He flexed his claw once, and crimson sparks leapt between his fingertips.
"Tier VI will do," he said softly. His smile was sharp. "The forge comes next."
The cliffs narrowed into twisting ravines as Noctis pressed deeper into the Blackfang Range. The air grew hotter, thicker with the stench of ash and sulfur. Every ridge brought another pack of wyverns shrieking down from the sky, but he did not slow.
Each clash was brief, brutal.
Hack, slash, devour. His blade split wings mid-flight, claws tore open throats, spirals crushed skulls into dust. When their numbers swelled too large, he let Bloodstorm VI roar out, crimson winds shredding flocks into ribbons. Every carcass dissolved under his siphon, leaving behind nothing but bones, drawn neatly into his Blood Storage.
Hours passed, but the slaughter did not end. The deeper he flew, the stronger the scent of marrow grew — metallic, rich, impossible to miss. His spirals pulsed with hunger, guiding him forward.
Then he found it.
The cliffs opened into a massive pit.
Noctis landed at its rim and looked down. His spirals narrowed. The sight stretched wide below him — a graveyard.
Bones upon bones littered the pit floor. Piles of wyvern skeletons, serpent spines twisted into knots, ribcages large enough to form cages of ivory. The air shimmered faintly, thick with essence that clung to his skin.
But at the pit's center lay what silenced even him.
A dragon's skull.
It towered above the rest, its jaw half-buried in the earth, fangs like towers jutting upward. Dust coated the surface, but even dead, its presence pressed heavy on the chamber. Beside it, the rest of its skeleton stretched outward in an endless coil, rib after rib, spine after spine, vanishing into shadow. The full length — six hundred meters at least.
Noctis's spirals widened, drinking in the sight.
"A true dragon…" His voice was low, almost reverent. "Your grave became their feast."
And beneath it, the truth revealed itself.
At the foot of the skull, a crimson pool rippled faintly. Wyverns clustered around it, wings folded, jaws dipped into the liquid. They drank greedily, their throats bulging with every gulp. The surface shimmered thick and red, glowing faintly with a power unlike the carrion marrow above.
Noctis's fangs slid into a grin. He could feel it even from here — the marrow and blood essence of the dragon, leeched out slowly over centuries, condensed into this pit. It radiated strength. Ancient, uncorrupted.
He licked his lips. His spirals pulsed faster.
"That marrow… that essence… it's mine."
He spread his wings, crimson light spilling across the pit, casting his shadow over the wyverns below. They shrieked at the sudden presence, wings flaring, claws scraping against bones. The pool rippled from the echo of his aura.
Noctis's smile widened, his voice a growl.
"Drink while you can. Your feast ends tonight."
Noctis spread his wings and hurled himself off the cliff.
The air tore past him as he plunged into the pit, cloak snapping behind him, spirals flaring bright. The wyverns below shrieked in alarm, wings snapping open as they scrambled away from the pool. But it was too late.
He slammed into the ground with crushing force, the shockwave scattering bones and shattering spines. His claws dug into the dirt, reaper blade flashing upward in a brutal arc. The nearest wyvern was split from jaw to belly in a single stroke, its blood spraying across the marrow pool before its body dissolved under his siphon.
Another lunged. He twisted, wings folding close, and drove his claws straight through its skull. His fangs sank into its throat, siphoning essence in one savage pull. The corpse crumbled to ash, its bones snapping into crimson threads and vanishing into his storage.
Dozens more surged forward, screeching in fury. The pool behind them rippled, the marrow's glow staining their scales red. They struck faster than the wyverns above, their movements sharper, claws cutting arcs of light.
Noctis laughed. "The marrow made you bold."
He blurred forward with Ghost Vein, his form vanishing between strikes, reappearing behind a wyvern as his reaper carved through its wings. Bloodlash Howl detonated outward, shattering the bones beneath his feet and hurling wyverns across the pit.
But their numbers swelled. From the ridges, from the caverns, more poured in. The sky darkened with their wings as they dove, screeches rattling the pit walls.
Noctis's spirals narrowed. "Then drown."
He raised his claw.
"Bloodstorm VI."
The air screamed as crimson gales erupted around him, storm winds laced with slicing arcs of blood. Wyverns were ripped from the air, shredded mid-flight, their bodies torn apart and dissolved into crimson threads. The pool churned as corpses fell into it, staining the marrow darker still.
Another wave dived. He countered with World-Rend Tempest VI, his blade slamming into the ground. The pit shook violently, shockwaves of inverted sanctity ripping outward, splintering bones and flattening wyverns against the walls.
He didn't stop. Radiant Barrage poured from his spirals, arrows of blood and shadow raining down in a storm that pinned wyverns through their skulls and throats. Every kill was devoured, every carcass left nothing but skeletons folded into storage.
The horde shrieked louder, clawing, biting, thrashing. Dozens became hundreds. They surged like a tide, wings beating so violently the air felt like a hurricane.
Noctis roared back, his spirals glowing like suns.
"Keep coming!"
He tore through them without pause, hack-and-slash brutality chained with AoE storms, movement skills carrying him from flank to flank. Every moment was slaughter. Blood sprayed, marrow pooled, and wyvern corpses crumbled into essence.
But even as the horde thinned, his spirals locked on the pool itself. Its glow pulsed with power, thicker and richer than any wyvern marrow. He licked his lips, his laughter breaking through the storm.
"That marrow… that's the true feast."
Noctis stood at the pit's edge, spirals locked on the pool beneath the dragon's skull. The crimson liquid pulsed faintly, rippling as though alive. Wyvern corpses floated in it, dissolving slowly, their marrow feeding back into the blood.
The air was thick with its essence. Heavy. Ancient.
He spread his wings. "Mine."
He leapt.
The pool swallowed him whole.
The moment his body plunged beneath the surface, heat seared through him. The marrow clung to his skin like molten tar, burning and binding in the same breath. His cloak dissolved into threads of crimson, his armor groaned as if alive, and his flesh pulsed with every heartbeat of the pool.
Noctis did not resist. He spread his arms, eyes closed, letting the marrow flood him.
It seeped into every pore, coursing through his veins, spirals blazing with unbearable light. His Grid roared awake, every node trembling, every vein stretching wide to contain the torrent.
Messages exploded across his vision:
System Messages
You have absorbed: Ancient Dragon Marrow (Sanctified-Corrupted Hybrid).
Contains marrow and essence distilled across centuries.
Origin: Blackfang Graveyard, True Dragon Remains.
Warning: Over-saturation imminent. Body undergoing forced restructuring.
Evolution Triggered: Sovereign's Ascension (Phase II).
Dragon marrow fuses with Blood Grid lattice.
Body renewal in progress: muscle, bone, and blood reforged.
Every cell aligned to Sovereign's Dominion resonance.
New Vein Unlocked: Dragon Marrow Vein.
Grants continuous enhancement to body density and regeneration.
Dragon marrow permanently integrated.
New Doctrine Unlocked: Sovereign's Dominion.
All dragon-derived abilities corrupted into Sovereign-class inversions.
Blessings extend to Night Legion and saints within Grid resonance.
Dragon Abilities Acquired → Corrupted Holy Variants (16 total):
Flameheart Roar → Infernal Sovereign Roar
Lightning Surge → Judgment Breaker
Ice Fang Breath → Frozen Cataclysm
Storm Wing → Dominion Gale
Earth Shatter → Grave Collapse
Shadow Coil → Eclipse Binding
Lightburst → Blinding Inversion
Gravity Fang → Horizon Breaker
Scale Harden → Iron Dominion Shell
Sky Rend → Heaven's Fracture
Blood Fire → Crimson Sovereignty Flame
Spirit Echo → Spectral Dominion Call
Soul Grip → Chain of Dominion (Evolution)
Dragon's Renewal → Immortal Inversion
Marrow Howl → Sovereign's Pulse
Death Wing → Abyssflight
Transformation Unlocked: Draconic Sovereign Form (Stage I).
Hybrid of Blood Sovereign and Dragon.
Safe limit: 10 minutes.
No resource drain.
Warning: Prolonged use beyond safe limit causes backlash — Grid destabilization, marrow rupture, possible permanent damage.
Power ceiling: Tier IX equivalent.
Noctis arched his back and roared, the marrow flooding through him like molten steel poured into a mold. His skin cracked, glowing crimson for an instant before sealing again stronger, harder. His spirals widened, burning holes in the dark around him.
His wings stretched, scales layering across them, black edged with gold. Claws grew longer, sharper, dripping with crimson ichor. His teeth elongated into fangs that glimmered with inverted sanctity.
The marrow washed through him again, stripping away weakness, reforging muscle and bone. Every second, he grew heavier, denser, yet faster. His Grid pulsed with power, veins and doctrines snapping into alignment, the lattice expanding wider than ever before.
He rose out of the pool slowly, the crimson liquid dripping from his body, steaming as it touched the bone-littered ground. His spirals glowed like suns, and every wyvern in the graveyard recoiled in terror.
Noctis flexed his claw, watching it drip with dragon marrow. His voice was steady, but laced with power that shook the pit.
"Sovereign of the dead… and now of dragons."
He licked his lips, savoring the taste of marrow still coating his teeth.
"This was worth the wait."