The air was thick; the sky was burning violet—ash falling like snow over the collapse of the Infernal Dominion.
Amid the chaos knelt Vaelric—wings torn, scales fragmented, his breath ragged, almost like a storm of embers.
Once, only the mention of his name was able to silence even gods, but now, he was just another sinner, kneeling and bleeding before heaven's judgment.
Then, he heard a voice echo through his skull. It was metallic. Cold. Primeval.
[System Restarting... Origin Detected: Primordial Bloodline — Chaos Dragon.]
[Warning: Memory fragments corrupted. Cost of Resurrection — 37% of Sanity.]
He gave a traumatic smirk. "So the Void still remembers me."
Instantly, lightning glided through the black clouds. The voice of the Abyssal Faction commander ringing out:
"Vaelric of the Demonic Dragon Line, you've rebelled against the Pact! You've fused forbidden magic — necromancy with chaos essence. For this act of insubordination, even Hell will not claim you!"
Vaelric didn't look surprised—like he was waiting for him to speak.
His eyes glowed like molten gold; his body was etched with scars.
"I wasn't even theirs to claim from the start," he whispered more to himself than to the Abyssal Faction leader.
In his palm, black fire spiraled—hungry and alive.
The flames had already eaten through the world by this time.
And amidst that chaos, a single notification appeared before his blurry, fading vision.
[New Quest Activated: Reclaim the Throne of Chaos.]
[Objective: Devour the Light and ascend.]
[Penalty for Failure: Erasure of Soul.]
He gave a wicked smirk.
"Then let there be chaos."
*****
{ Present Day }
The world had rebuilt itself, but the scars of that day still lingered.
Rivers glimmered with fragments of fallen stars, and the forest breathed with wounds that never healed—a living monument to the chaos that once ruled the skies.
Blood splashed across the temple floor before Vaelric even opened his eyes.
His vision still blurred, his breathing ragged.
He was bound—hands, legs, and neck by shackles of chains that clanked together violently the more he fought to regain balance.
A voice called from in the temple—a proclamatory, authoritative voice.
"The last descendant of the Primordial Dragon God—reduced to a chained slave of the demonic faction."
"...What the fuck?" he murmured, eyes moving rapidly.
"You have been cast down to the demonic realm to serve for a thousand years, and when it is completed, you may be given the power to ascend."
"...What the fuck is the bastard even saying?" he murmured again. The proclamations were nothing but a muffled blur.
Then a system flickered into his gaze.
[System Reboot Successful.]
[Designation: Vaelric, Chaos Dragon.]
[Rank: F (Redistributed)]
[State: Bound to the Demonic Realm — Nethyra.]
[Condition: 71% Sanity Loss | Bloodline Suppressed | Resurrection Incomplete.]
He blinked as the metallic voice echoed again inside his skull.
[New Directive: Survive. Evolve]
[Optional: Reclaim What Was Lost.]
"Survive?" he muttered more to himself than the system, a dry laugh then escaped his throat. "I already did that once."
The chains rattled again, almost as if it was alive, the sound almost serpentine.
Somewhere beyond the shadows, someone spoke.
"Welcome back to the underworld, Dragon."