Eating changed everything.
The meat was tough, bitter, and barely satisfying—but it kept me alive. As the last of the creature's warmth faded, something inside me shifted. The dragon core no longer pulsed weakly. It rotated, slowly, like a heart remembering how to beat.
Information flooded my mind.
Not words.
Instincts.
Hunt. Consume. Grow.
This body did not grow through training or kindness. It grew through survival.
Through killing.
I tested my limbs. My wounds had partially closed. Not healed—but sealed. Enough to move. Enough to fight again if needed.
That was when I noticed the marks.
The cavern walls were not natural.
Scratches ran along the stone, deliberate and patterned. Claw marks of different sizes overlapped, layered by time. This wasn't just a monster's nest.
It was a feeding ground.
A low growl vibrated through the tunnels. Distant—but real.
I retreated without hesitation. Pride had no place here. I moved low, silent, memorizing every turn. The dragon core responded, guiding my steps, sharpening my awareness.
So this is how dragons survive.
Not as kings.
As predators.
Hours later, I reached the surface.
Light stabbed my eyes. Cold wind battered my scales. Before me stretched a wasteland of jagged rock, dead trees, and crimson grass stained by old blood.
No cities. No roads.
Only ruins.
Broken stone pillars jutted from the earth like ribs of a corpse. Something once lived here. Something intelligent.
And it was gone.
A sudden pressure crashed down on me.
My instincts screamed.
I flattened myself against the ground as a massive shadow passed overhead. Wings beat the air, powerful enough to shake the land. I didn't look up.
I didn't need to.
Another dragon.
Not weak.
Not injured.
A true apex predator.
The pressure alone crushed my thoughts. If it noticed me, I would die instantly.
Minutes passed before the presence faded.
Only then did I breathe.
So I'm not alone.
And I'm not special.
At the edge of the ruins, I sensed something different.
Mana.
Faint, distorted, and artificial.
I followed it to a shattered stone altar. Runes carved into its surface glowed weakly, barely alive after centuries.
As I approached, pain exploded through my skull.
Images flashed.
A man standing in fire.
A dragon screaming in chains.
A ritual.
A betrayal.
I collapsed.
The altar responded to me.
No—recognized me.
My reflection shimmered in the broken stone.
For a brief moment—
I saw myself standing upright.
Two arms. Two legs.
Human.
The image shattered instantly, leaving me gasping in the dirt.
I didn't understand what I'd seen.
But I understood one thing clearly.
This world did not summon me as a hero.
It bound me as something else.
And whatever that altar was—
It was the first step toward reclaiming what I lost.
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