The Black King was the progenitor of the entire dragon race—their great sire and sovereign. He was also the direct creator of the First Generation: the Four Great Monarchs.
Of course, "father" was just a convenient term. The Black King reproduced asexually or through direct creation. He himself had no parent.
In the ancient mythic age, the Black King ruled over all dragons with terrifying strength and an absolute hierarchical system.
During that era, dragons built magnificent bronze pillars and splendid cities across all continents of Earth. Towering ziggurats linked to celestial temples, and imperial roads spanned oceans and continents, connecting metropolis to metropolis. It was a glorious scene of hyper-ancient civilization.
But such grandeur only served to amplify the Black King's tyrannical influence. His power radiated from the throne in the far north, suffocating all—from the nobility to the lowest commoner.
Eventually, the dragons rebelled.
After surviving multiple uprisings, the Black King was finally slain. On the day of his death, it was humans—former slaves of the dragons—who ascended the throne of ice, cheering beneath a rain of blood, proclaiming the dawn of a "new era."
But for beings like Norton, one of the First Generation, they knew the truth: The Black King—their father—was a monster birthed by the planet itself. Even if slain, the black emperor would eventually return and exact vengeance on his betrayers.
That was why Norton had to prepare.
Originally, the purpose of forging the Seven Deadly Sins was to slay the other dragon kings—his siblings—and gradually consume their Authority and Power through their dragonbone crosses, preparing himself for the Black King's return.
But in hindsight… wasn't that approach flawed?
Whether it was the monarchs of fire, water, earth, and wind—or the White King, who wielded the element of spirit—they were all merely creations of the Black King. Combining them into one… could that really defeat the supreme being that made them?
No. Absolutely not.
With his mind now sharpened to near-precognitive clarity, Norton rejected the idea outright. Bloodlines and Word Spirits had their limits. Just approaching the Black King's level was nearly impossible—let alone surpassing it.
But alchemy was different.
Alchemy was the science of dragon civilization. Their method of observing limited higher-dimensional universes. Nibelungen realms, and the enigmatic Seven Great Kingdoms—these were products of advanced alchemical tech.
In alchemy, the Black King might be the pinnacle, but he was not the end.
As long as one continued evolving alchemy… surpassing the Black King was possible.
Norton recalled something Shirou had once said—the motto of the Atlas Institute:
"We do not need to become the strongest—only to create the strongest."
In that moment, a flash of insight split through the mental fog—a revelation so powerful it felt like a divine strike to the mind.
"Through pure alchemy… I will forge the strongest. That is the true path!"
Beside him, the dragon servant watched its King's face twist and turn—serious one moment, elated the next. As expected of the Monarch most similar to the Black Emperor himself—his alchemy reached divine heights, and so did his mood swings.
But… what exactly had the King done to it?
The dragon began trying to process this—revving up a brain that hadn't been used properly in millennia. It felt… unnervingly lively. Thoughts were bouncing around too fast, voices flickering across its mind like static.
Suddenly, Norton tossed a piece of human-made parchment its way.
"Hrrng?" The dragon tilted its massive head and pinned the paper gently under one claw. A red X had been scrawled across a region in North Africa—near the Atlas Mountains, right beside the Sahara.
Norton gave his command: "Leave Bronze City. Go to this location."
The dragon blinked in confusion. What? That place was just rocky mountains and barren desert. Nothing was there. Was the King banishing it?
No. Norton continued:
"Dig out a hollow beneath the ground. Once that's done, I'll have Samson escort Constantine there. That's where we'll rebuild our home. The Three Gorges of the Yangtze are no longer hidden—no longer the secluded fortress they were centuries ago."
He spread his arms, eyes flashing with excitement and quiet determination.
"There, I shall build a new underground city. I'll call it… the Atlas Institute."
———
As promised, Lao Tang returned to the Zhou family estate just two days later.
He came bearing gifts for acquaintances, grinning from ear to ear, with a massive black hard-shell case in hand as he marched straight to Shirou's room.
He was absolutely glowing with pride and energy. One might think he'd just gotten married and come back a happy groom.
"Hey, Shirou bro! You can't say I'm not loyal now!"
He gave Shirou, who was fiddling with projection magecraft, a firm pat on the back. Thud thud. "Check this out! Look what I brought you!"
He popped open the black case with a satisfying click. A wave of dark golden light flowed from the seams, revealing a set of exquisitely crafted alchemical weapons—living artworks in the form of seven different blades: a zhanmadao, a tang blade, a Han dynasty straight sword, a katana, an Atacan longsword, a Scottish claymore, and a tanto dagger.
Shirou's eyes were instantly drawn in.
He had already examined nearly every weapon in the Zhou family vaults. Something about these blades triggered an instinctive response. His lips moved subconsciously:
"Synchronization... begin…"
In that instant, a flood of data entered his mind.
Pride. Envy. Wrath. Sloth. Greed. Gluttony. Lust.
Seven words from the Christian canon of original sin—seamlessly integrated into seven Noble Phantasms.
It was Shirou's first time seeing a weapon with anti-sin specialization. Even more shocking—when used together, they unlocked a combined effect: "Sin and Punishment."
Wait… are these the Seven Swords in Unity trope?
"But Lao Tang… this gift is kinda insanely valuable…"
"Come on, you and me—we're brothers, aren't we? If you hadn't taken me in, I'd still be starving in some slum!"
"Well, thanks, but… you got your hands on all this in just two days? What, did you hit the jackpot again?"
"Ehhh… you could say that."
Lao Tang's smile faded. He grew serious. "Shirou, I'm gonna tell you something important now. Please… don't freak out."
"It's fine, Lao Tang. I've seen some stuff. Whatever it is, I won't be scared."
"Okay then." He stretched, did two chest-opening warmups, cleared his throat, and took a deep breath before standing firm.
"…Shirou bro, I think I finally figured out what I really am."
Shirou blinked, sensing something heavy coming.
Lao Tang, who usually wore a lazy smirk, now looked unusually solemn. His expression hardened with weighty seriousness.
"My true identity… is an alchemist from the Atlas Institute."
(End of Chapter)
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