Artorius opened the door to the old Sword Dragon keep. The hinges screamed. The sound followed him in, long and ragged, like the last breath of something wounded. It echoed down corridors of black stone and pale metal, sharp and lingering, like steel dragged slowly across bone. He barely noticed. By the time he crossed the threshold, he had already lost track of how long he had been running.
His flight had not been clean. It had not been heroic. He had torn himself out of collapsing terrains, ripped free of karmic bindings by shedding blood. He had burned through entire escape routes to get out and he had not looked back.
His armor was a ragged, shredded mess barely held together. One of his wing dragged, its membrane torn and refusing to fully retract. His blood had dried in dark streaks everywhere and his breathing was rasping, every inhale scraping against ribs that remembered being broken.
Artorius staggered forward, planting his sword to keep from falling, shoulders slumping as the door groaned shut behind him. For the first time since the sky itself had filled with something impossible, he allowed himself to stop moving.
Beyond lay the Bloody Colosseum. Old blood stained everything in the abandoned place. The ground bore grooves where countless battles had been fought. Broken weapons lay embedded in the walls like offerings: swords snapped mid-swing, spears melted into slag, even fragments of draconic talons cleaved clean off and left where they fell.
Artorius stepped inside. He remembered the time he spent here, fighting in the arena. Those were the days. How simple things were. Artorius exhaled slowly and forced himself forward. Soon figures began to emerge from the shadows.
First was Ouroboros, coiling down from one of the sword-arches above, his small serpentine body wrapped in layers of cracks and dust of travel. His golden eye was dimmer than usual, ringed with stress fractures in the light itself. He did not crack a joke. That alone told Artorius how bad things were truly was.
Behind him came the Psychic Dragon, descending soundlessly, his presence rippling the air like a pressure behind the mind eye. His form flickered, solid one moment, half-echo the next suggesting he had not fully recovered from whatever he had done to escape the battlefield.
A soft chiming heralded Shiun, the Golden Imugi. She emerged from a spiraling ring of pale light, her long serpentine body flowing like liquid gold, scales etched with celestial calligraphy. Normally radiant, she looked muted now, as though some brilliance had been leeched from her.
Others followed. A few surviving nobles, two missing limbs. A cluster of officers whose eyes still hadn't fully refocused on reality. Some bore burns or grave wounds. Others moved too stiffly, as if their bodies were only obeying out of habit.
Too many were missing. Artorius counted them automatically. Then stopped, because the count hurt too much. He did split his force to hide in different biomes but the loss they suffered was great. The only comfort he could find was that his enemies suffered more than him.
No cheers greeted him as he stood before them. Only the heavy silence of those who had survived something they were not meant to. Ouroboros broke the silence, his voice low and uncharacteristically careful. "...How are you? I see you made it somewhat intact."
"I'm good enough to keep moving," he said but he had to be honest with them. "However things have not gone great." He looked at them, jaw tightening. "The Life Dragon was the first to fall." A lot of people recoiled at that news even he was still processing it. He did not care for the Life dragon fall out of affection, they had been enemies moments ago and fighting each other but because of what it meant.
A dragon that embodied regeneration, continuity, ecosystems themselves… was slain. What did that mean for them. The bad news did not end there, "And the Star dragon had been captured, he stood back to let me escape. The others… I'm not sure of their current situation."
A ripple of horror passed through the gathered survivors. Shiun bowed her head. "Then it's truly the beginning of the end."
Artorius dragged a hand down his face. His fingers came away faintly glowing red, residual karmic interference still clinging to him like static. "We were crushed," he said bluntly. "Not outplayed. Not worn down. Crushed. The moment he arrived, the war ended. Everything after was just… cleanup."
Ouroboros's coils tightened. "You're sure it was him."
Artorius nodded. "The Karma Dragon."
Ouroboros went very still. "That…" he said slowly. "That shouldn't be possible."
Artorius glanced at him. "You know him."
Ouroboros hesitated. That alone was damning. "Yes, I know him," he said. "Or rather, I knew of him before. He is the dragon that I mentioned before who rose in the Nest long ago and conquered it."
Artorius's eyes widened, recalling that supreme dragon descendant he mentioned when they took over the Silver dragon tower and he was explaining how the Nest worked. "The same one, really?! How is he back here? Can people just keep coming back here like its a vacation."
Ouroboros nodded grimly. "I do not know how he came back. The situation in this Nest is very quickly spinning out of control."
Artorius leaned more heavily on his sword. He could agree on that, though he did have a big part to play in how out of whack things were quickly becoming. "Well that dragon who took over the Nest before was basically piloting that giant head."
Just speaking it made him think back on their fight.
…
The inside of the immortal dragon's skull was wrong. Where there should have been brain matter or something like gray mass it was empty. They were able to burrow in from the brow ridge with their combined might to get to the core of what was driving this giant severed head.
The seven of them each with a Dragon sovereign at the helm headed deeper inside. It wasn't long before they finally came to the center of the skull, where the brain should have been, sat something wrapped in chains of glowing red threads. They bit into the bone, into the nerves, into the lingering soul-echoes of the corpse.
And at the heart of it a dragon. His wings were folded, pierced through by binding spines grown from the skull itself. He was embedded. Fused into the remains like a parasitic. His eyes opened when they entered and he smiled like he had been waiting.
Artorius exhaled shakily as he withdrew from that memory. "Worse," he pointed out, "he knew me quite intimately. Somehow it was as if all this was done because of me… like it was coming after me alone."
"No offence," Ouroboros commented, clearly trying to bring some brevity to the bleak conversation. "You are thinking yourself more important than you are."
"I wish sometimes I was just your average joe," Artorius could only sigh. "But in all seriousness I do not believe the Karma dragon was incharge… something else was in the passenger seat."
"Great," the psychic dragon finally commented, "we most likely have a great or beyond dragon pulling the strings behind the shadow."
"The bad news does not end there," he added, not glad that things really hit the gutter. "The Void Dragon." That drew immediate attention. "He was there," Artorius continued. "But not leading. He stood behind the karma dragon like a shadow. It seemed like he was following him."
Shiun's voice was barely a whisper. "We have two immortal blooded dragons to deal with!?"
Finally, Ouroboros spoke the words no one else wanted to. "This is truly the end."
Artorius did not contradict him. Deep down he felt that. The odds were so stacked against them, what else could they do?
"If the Karma Dragon holds the corpse of an Immortal," he said slowly, "then the Nest will fall without a battle. Every dragon in the Nest will have no choice but to bend the knee or be destroyed."
Artorius stared at the stained stone beneath his boots. "Dark times are ahead," he said.
Ouroboros nodded. "One where resistance is futile. We can only hope that the karma dragon and the void dragon have the good grace to live the Nest and ascend beyond so things can return to normal. However by then you will most likely be gone"
Artorius said nothing, looking at the quest he got, his very first one. That meant he would have to abandon it and before right now he was so confident in completing it. He was very reluctant to abandon all the rewards he could get but what could he do? Go attack foolishly hoping for the best? Even with six imperial dragons and him getting controlled by great dragons did not end well.
It was time to be honest with himself, this is where his journey ended. Maybe he could risk hitting those trials he wanted and for the remaining levels he needed to hit 50 he could gain them by hunting a bunch of the most dangerous creatures left in the Nest.
He would have to make do with the dragon blood of the Probability dragon emperor he had which was a risk taking it but it was a step up from the dragon queen blood he had from his family.
He thought of greedily trying to rob the immortal descendant dragon but he wasn't sure they had any immortal blood on hand and did not want to risk his life and all his followers just for the slim off chance. Better to be satisfied with what he had.
He did not make it to the finish line but he had come far. And he had to be proud of his accomplishments and give grace to himself. Who imagined things would turn out like this. This giant head and this new immortal blooded dragon really came out of left field.
Artorius straightened. The motion cost him more than he let show. Pain flared through wounds, through fractures in his body. Still, he stood tall. As a Commander. King. Dragon.
Then quietly he gave his last order to his men. "I won't dress this up," Artorius said. "You all know how bad it is. You felt it. You saw it. We didn't just lose ground today, we lost completely." No one interrupted him. Dragons, commanders, soldiers, nobles, and veterans alike held still, hanging on every word.
"I led you into a war against powers that none imagined any could fight," he continued. "And you followed me anyway. Through blood and fire. Through death and destruction. Through odds that were impossible."
A pause. "I don't regret it." A ripple passed through the chamber of shock, pride, and grief. "I enjoyed it," Artorius said honestly. "Every march. Every impossible stand. Every moment I got to look out over a battlefield and know you were there with me. I enjoyed leading you. I enjoyed fighting beside you. You were never tools. Never fodder. You were my people."
Somewhere, someone broke down crying. Another swore under their breath. Several bowed their heads. Artorius exhaled slowly. "Which is why I won't spend your lives pretending this can still be won."
His voice hardened, steel threading through warmth. "Then this is the end." Every eye turned to him. "We will retreat," he continued. "A real one. No heroic stands. No last charges. We disappear. Scatter to the four winds. Remove all traces of ourselves."
Murmurs rippled. Fear. Relief. Defiance. Understanding. Silence followed heavy, reverent. Ouroboros studied him. "You're thinking of exile."
Artorius met his gaze. "Yes."
Zytherion who was silent this whole time finally spoke, he thought the old dragon was quiet because he was not happy for his loss. 'I might have a solution for you.'
-
The severed head hovered at the heart of the Nest like a false moon. Its ascent had reached the apex and its presence could be felt nearly all over the Nest.
The sky around it was wrong, not dark, not light, but weighted, as though reality itself had been judged lacking with it bent inward by the gravity of this great authority. Vast currents of karmic thread spiraled around, red and gold, looping from jaw to crown, from broken horn to exposed vertebrae. The mane of white hair that crowned the ancient skull drifted endlessly, each strand glowing faintly, each one connected to something.
Below, the Nest awaited. Not in defiance. Not in hope but in submission, ready for the taking as none could stand against them. The possessed Karma Dragon stood inside the head, wings folded, posture reverent. His scales, once burnished with the balanced hues of judgment and consequence were now crawling with red threads as he was embedded in the skull. Those threads ran through him as well, piercing his spine, his chest, his soul. He did not resist them. He welcomed them.
His eyes burned with something that was not his own. Dark, empty void light. Behind him, half a step back and deliberately lower, stood the Void Dragon.
The severed head's remaining eye opened wider. The pupil dilated searching the Nest, seeing not terrain, not armies, but threads of good and bad. It was searching for someone. After a while it stopped as it could not find what it was looking for.
The possessed Karma Dragon seemed to awaken from his trance as he called out, "My son."
The Void Dragon knelt instantly before his sire. His forehead struck the invisible force of authority beneath the floating skull. The impact cracked the air. His wings spread flat against the ground, scales scraping stone in a posture of absolute submission.
"Sire," he said, voice steady, reverent, reverberating with layered echoes. His tone carried no hesitation, no resistance. "Your will is manifest. The Nest bends."
The void dragon was still in awe of how easily his sire took down the imperial dragons and that upstart especially with all of them having great dragons taking command.
The severed head's mane stirred, threads of red light pulling taut as the Karma dragon spoke. "The child remains."
The Void Dragon did not ask which child. He knew. "He fled," the dragon said. "Give the word," he said. "And I shall bring you his head."
The Karma dragon was silent for a moment before uttering, "No." The Void Dragon stilled. "You will not destroy him." A pause."You will bring him to me." The karma dragon eyes flared."Alive."
The Void Dragon bowed again. "As you command." He rose, heading out of the severed head from the empty eye socket to face the vastness below.
The Nest unfolded beneath him, biomes stacked upon biomes, each unique with them born from different dead dragons. There were endless peaks of obsidian flame. Verdant plains, dreamfold seas where thought became tide. Dimensional margins where reality frayed. Storm belts. Crystal deserts. Grave skies.
And armies waited for him. Not in ranks. Hey stood there still like statues and what you would notice right away if you could see was the tethers attached to them. From the mane of the severed immortal dragon head descended countless red threads each one impossibly thin, impossibly strong. They pierced down through clouds, through space anchoring themselves into flesh, scale, bone, and soul.
All the dragon who had been captured and could not escape time were bound. Eyes glazed over. Movements stiff. Breath synchronized.
The Void Dragon spread his wings. When he spoke, his voice was no longer singular. It carried the authority of the severed head behind him.
"By karmic law," he declared, "by the authority of the Immortal Matron—" The red threads pulsed. "You are all under my command." Every bound entity felt it.
"Artorius Pendrath," the Void Dragon said, naming him fully, sealing the intent. "He is declared Apostate of the Nest. His presence is a scourge upon our Master. His survival is an error."
The Void Dragon lifted his head. "You will hunt him." The sky darkened. "You will scour every biome. Every refuge. Every hidden path."
The threads tightened. "You will seek him out in every corner," the Void Dragon commanded. "If he hides, you will wait. If he runs, you will pursue. If he fights, you will break him."
Below, the vast forces began to answer the command. The puppeted army surged into motion. Red threads pulled and they moved out to seek their prey. The Void Dragon bowed to the giant floating head once before heading out.
The severed head's gaze closed as the armies dispersed, but the Karma Dragon did not move inside. His claws flexed. The Nest will soon obey him in full. The hunt was underway. And yet, the thread at his spine twitched. Annoyance. Failure.
The threads answered him instinctively, bringing out a form who was in another area of the skull. The Star Dragon emerged, suspended by dozens of red threads that pierced his wings, his chest, his throat. Once radiant, his stellar scales were dulled, cracked, several torn free entirely. Light bled from the wounds in slow, dim pulses, like dying stars collapsing inward.
One of his wings hung at an unnatural angle. He should not have been conscious. Yet his eyes, starry, deep, still lifted and he smiled. Blood and starlight spilled from the corner of his mouth as he let out a weak, rasping chuckle. "Well," the Star Dragon said hoarsely, voice echoing faintly, "looks like things didn't go how you planned, did it?"
The Karma Dragon's aura flared violently before he mastered himself. Still several of the strings jerked, wrenching the Star Dragon's body midair. Bones cracked. The Star Dragon hissed but did not scream.
"You will fail," the Karma Dragon said, voice layered. "I will find him and make sure he does not appear in this cycle."
The Star Dragon coughed, spitting a shard of crystallized starlight onto the unseen floor below. His smile widened, faint but unmistakably mocking.
The Karma Dragon came closer and whispered, "Laugh all you want but once I am done with him, I will find your mother and her flight and wipe them out once and for all. Cleaning the Multi-verse of you wretched followers of my brother clinging to the hope he can return."
The Star Dragon lifted his gaze, meeting the possessed dragon's eyes directly. Despite the agony, despite the ruin of his body, there was no fear there. Only defiance. "Do your worse."
The Karma Dragon craned his next not seemingly to understand what sacrifice meant, "Why would you sacrificed everything for someone you just meet," he said coldly. "Your position. Your freedom. Your future. For him."
The Star Dragon tilted his head with great effort, chains creaking, threads pulling tighter as he did. "Funny thing about stars," he murmured. "They don't exist to last. They exist to burn… so others can see where to go."
The Karma Dragon's claw lashed out in annoyance as it was not having any of that nonsense. The Star Dragon went through a new round of pain still he laughed. A weak sound, a broken one but laughter nonetheless.
The Karma Dragon stopped after a while and the Star Dragon taunted him, "Couldn't finish the job, Dark One? For all that power… for all that stolen authority…"
He smiled again, teeth stained with stellar light. "You still let him slip through your claws." Silence fell. Even the severed head's mane stilled.
The Karma Dragon straightened slowly. "I will enjoy watching you broke, watching all your hope shatter when I end him right before your eyes then you can join him in the afterlife knowing you failed."
The threads yanked the Star Dragon away, hurling him back into the shadow inside the severed head, where light went to die and screams were swallowed before they could exist.
-
Author Note: Its end game time!
Anyways how the tables have turned for everyone, they were on top of the world, mc & imperial dragons now they are either on the run, hiding, dead or captured.