The Obsidian Citadel of the Draconian race loomed like a wound carved into the earth.
Black stone formed its bones—massive, unpolished slabs stacked with brutal intent. Ancient runes crawled across the walls like fossilized scars, pulsing faintly with heat. The air inside was thick, sulfurous, and heavy enough to cling to the lungs.
Everything here was built for giants.
Su Chen sat at a stone table that reached nearly to his chest, fingers loosely wrapped around a cup carved from volcanic glass. The drink inside burned his nostrils—chili, minerals, something metallic. It tasted like fire learning how to be liquid.
Opposite him, Warlord Drakon ate.
Not dined. Ate.
The massive lizardman tore into a roasted beast leg with savage efficiency, bone and sinew crushed between serrated teeth. Scales rippled along his neck as he chewed, eyes half-lidded in contentment.
"So," Su Chen said casually, breaking the rhythm of the hall.
He placed a crystal on the table.
A High-Grade Spirit Stone.
It glowed softly, light refracting through its facets like a captured star.
"Tell me about the landlords."
Drakon froze.
Then his eyes locked onto the stone.
In a blink, the crystal vanished from the table, crushed in his clawed grip. He lifted it to his snout, inhaled deeply, shuddering as if tasting a forbidden drug. Then—without hesitation—he crunched it between his teeth.
The sound echoed.
Crack. Crunch.
Energy flooded his body. His scales flared brighter, heat rolling off him in visible waves.
"The Central Domain," Drakon rumbled, voice shaking the chamber, "is divided among the Four Sovereigns."
He swallowed.
"We are in the South."
Su Chen listened, unmoving.
"The South is ruled by Ignis, the Calamity Dragon. A True Dragon."
Drakon's tone shifted—reverence laced with fear.
"Level Ninety-Five. He sleeps within the Volcano of Origins."
A pause.
"The North belongs to the Lich King. Not your fairy-tale undead. A native overlord. His Dead Zone stretches beyond sight."
Another pause.
"The West…" Drakon's jaw tightened. "The Insect Queen. Her hive blankets a continent. She does not conquer civilizations. She eats them."
"And the East?" Su Chen asked.
"The Human Saint," Drakon said slowly. "A cultivator from another dimension. He founded the Celestial Palace. Claims enlightenment. Enforces peace."
Su Chen swirled his drink, eyes unfocused.
"Human Saint," he murmured. "Interesting."
Then he looked up.
"But I'm here for Ignis."
Drakon leaned forward, claws digging into the stone table.
"Do not approach him."
Su Chen raised an eyebrow.
"Ignis does not speak Common," Drakon continued. "He speaks the Old Tongue. His voice alone can rupture souls. We Draconians are his distant kin—and even we bleed when he whispers."
"The Old Tongue," Su Chen repeated. "A language that alters reality."
Drakon nodded once.
"The Voice is power. To speak it is to command the elements themselves."
Su Chen stood.
"I see."
He checked his dimensional coordinates.
"So I need to learn a new language."
He turned, already walking away.
"Thanks for the meal, Drakon. Keep the city standing until I return."
Drakon blinked. "Return?"
"I might fuse it later."
"Fuse—"
Su Chen vanished.
[Space Authority.]
---
Dimensional Hop
World: The Elder Scrolls V – Skyrim
Location: The Throat of the World
Timeline: Pre-Dragonborn
Cold slammed into existence.
Thin air. Howling wind. Snow slicing like knives.
Su Chen appeared at the peak of Tamriel, golden skin untouched by frost. His Diamond Body ignored the cold entirely.
Stone steps stretched upward, ancient and worn.
At the summit, before a towering Word Wall, an ancient dragon sat in meditation.
Tattered wings. Ash-gray scales. Eyes older than kingdoms.
Paarthurnax.
He opened one eye.
It widened.
"Drem… Yol… Lok," the dragon intoned slowly. "Greetings. You possess a strange Thu'um. It smells of stars… and death."
Su Chen inclined his head.
"I'm here to learn."
"The Voice is not a tool," Paarthurnax warned. "It is devotion. Worship. Years of meditation for a single Word."
"I don't have years," Su Chen said calmly.
"But I have understanding."
Power stirred.
[Mind Authority.]
[Space Authority.]
[Babata: Computational Core.]
"Speak to me," Su Chen said. "Shout."
Paarthurnax hesitated—then exhaled.
"Very well. Taste the Voice."
"YOL… TOOR… SHUL!"
Fire was not released.
It was declared.
Reality bent as flame roared forth—not heat alone, but the concept of fire made audible.
Su Chen stood within it.
His Diamond Body glowed red-hot.
His mind dissected everything—the vibration, the tonal structure, the way the dragon's soul resonated with the world.
[System Analysis: Tonal Magic.]
[Decoding Language: Dovahzul.]
[Copying Attribute: The Thu'um.]
Su Chen inhaled.
Then spoke.
"YOL… TOOR… SHUL."
Fire answered him.
Two infernos collided midair.
Paarthurnax recoiled.
"You… grasped the Rotmulaag instantly?"
His voice trembled.
"Are you Dovah wearing mortal flesh?"
"Something like that."
Su Chen turned to the Word Wall.
[Copying… Success.]
"One more thing," Su Chen said. "Dragonrend."
Paarthurnax stiffened. "That word is hatred made sound. I do not know it."
"The Elder Scroll can show me."
"Yes," the dragon admitted softly.
Su Chen bowed.
"Stay safe. Alduin is coming."
Then he stepped off the mountain.
---
Dimhollow Crypt
Su Chen didn't detour.
He cut straight through the north.
Vampires. Draugr. Spiders.
Crushed.
The puzzle solved itself under Telekinesis.
The monolith opened.
A woman stumbled forward, pale and disoriented—ancient eyes burning orange.
Serana.
Su Chen caught her.
"You've been asleep a long time," he said gently.
She stared at him—terrified, hungry, sensing something wrong.
"I'm collecting artifacts," Su Chen said. "And people."
He offered a vial.
"Star Dragon blood."
Her breath hitched.
"And I'll kill your father."
Silence.
Then—
"…You offer freedom?"
"I offer a future."
[Serana recruited.]
---
Return – Black Dragon Fortress
Serana stared at the impossible ship.
"At the Nine…"
"You're in the future," Su Chen said, sitting upon his throne.
He looked south.
Toward the Volcano of Origins.
"I have the Voice now."
He smiled faintly.
"Take us to Ignis."