It feels hot… My body… What is this feeling… it's… foreign.
Dravion's mind reeled, every nerve set alight with something that wasn't mana—no, this wasn't a wave of borrowed power. This was older, deeper, a force dragging itself from the well beneath his bones. The forest shuddered under his presence, and even the wind stilled, the world itself holding its breath for what came next. This wasn't pressure, wasn't simple growth. This was transformation.
Golden light coiled slow around his tail, deliberate as a god's decree, wrapping up his legs, over his wings, inch by inch until it crowned his skull. The tiger turned her head without even meaning to, blue eyes wide as the golden blaze ate the world. There was no fear left in her now, only reverence—worship, staring helplessly at something she'd never understand, the way mortals stare at miracles they know might kill them.
A sliver of that golden light swept over her, and the world went dark for her—a long moment in a cold, golden night.
"This is my gift to you."
The voice thundered through Dravion's mind, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once—an ancient echo, sharp and bright, burning like a new sun behind his eyes.
Who are you…? I've heard your voice before... I think…
He tried to speak, but no sound came. His jaw was locked, thoughts scattering in the heat as the light began to twist around him, stretching, breaking, forging and unmaking at the same time.
It wasn't gentle. It was agony—excruciating, violent, like his flesh and memory were being peeled apart and reforged into something raw and new.
He shrank. He grew. Again, again. No longer on all fours. His spine straightened, two feet planted into the torn earth, golden energy surging through his bones as the light sculpted a form not quite human, not quite beast—just a silhouette burning within the pulse of the divine.
It was terrifying.
RIPPLE!
A shockwave blasted outward, gold and heat ripping through the forest. Trees groaned, earth split, leaves ripped from their branches as the trunks toppled one by one, everything pushed aside by the force of his becoming.
The tiger didn't even have time to react—her body was launched, flung far beyond the horizon, erased from the scene.
Dravion's form ballooned, golden pressure swelling him huge, then snapping tight, compacting, and reshaping him into something new.
And then it was over. Only one being stood near the dried spring—a child, but nothing like the beast that had been here before.
No longer a monster. Not yet a man either. A boy stood in the mist of dying gold, frame ten or eleven at most, but so far from human.
Dark skin, almost charcoal-blue, shimmering as if stardust had been soaked into the flesh. Scales, layered thin and sharp, traced in golden lines that pulsed like veins filled with light.
Two small horns curled back from his brow, unfinished, jagged, a crown waiting to harden. Behind him, wild midnight-black hair fell to his shoulders, flecked with violet and gold, as if someone had combed out the cosmos and left the remnants in his mane.
His eyes — golden, molten, slit-pupiled, glowing with a waking power that felt older than the sun.
Ancient runes, barely visible, marked his shoulders and chest, peeking from beneath fading gold-tinted scales.
Childlike limbs, but the way he held himself was anything but weak. The memory of dragon strength lived in every movement.
A tail, still draconic but lean and agile, trailed behind. Fingers, almost human, claws withdrawn but dangerous at the tip. Obsidian wings unfolded behind him, sharp and elegant, finishing the half-divine shape.
He blinked, realizing for the first time that the energy of his rebirth had shaped not only his body, but a thin sheath of scales across his waist and hips—a dragon's instinct, perhaps, to guard what little dignity a new world allowed.
Barefoot, he stood as if the trembling earth itself feared to touch him.
The earth trembled—barely at first, just a subtle pulse beneath the roots and stone, but it was enough. The ground itself seemed to lean closer, welcoming the birth of something new, reverent as if greeting a god long forgotten. In that trembling, you could almost hear worship—an ancient recognition, as if the land remembered its master at last.
Far away, the tiger limped through shattered trees, heart still pounding, mind spinning. That terror was not just fear now—a seed had been planted that would someday bloom into rage… or into destiny.
"It hurts…"
Dravion squeezed his right arm, feeling something inside writhe, a force too big for flesh. He looked at his hand—scaled, but soft, not beast, not man.
Like the hands of the ones I killed... but not the same.
The shape felt alien, and yet it fit. It belonged. A tear slipped down, landing on his trembling hand, and a vision tore through his mind.
A woman, beautiful and dangerous, flashed before his eyes—a memory sharp as a blade.
"My love…"
Pain lanced through his chest, hatred pouring in with it, the memory cracking open an old wound sealed lifetimes ago.
"You… stole my eyes."
His voice shook.
"I… remember now... Betrayal... Abandonment... You will pay... All of you… will pay."
His words dropped, cold and low, spoken as if by another mouth, but the hate in them was all his.
"This rage… this fire… will burn in my heart forever. I will carve my own path. Become the god none of you can defy. When that day comes, all will tremble beneath my gaze. All will die. Only the innocent will remain..."
His voice dropped further, sharp as true ice.
"There will be a purge."
He didn't know why these words came, but he knew they were true. The visions, the pain—they were no lies.
So Dravion made his choice: He would seek them out, the ones his soul remembered, and one by one, he would kill them. But first, power—power to make the world burn and bow.
His right arm trembled, pain racing to his shoulder, too much to hold down. He raised his hand toward the trees.
WOOOOOOSH!
A beam of golden force exploded outward, divine, unstoppable, tearing through the world, sky and stone and mountain alike.
Trees, stone, mountains—nothing remained.
From above, a golden path cut through the world, ten kilometers wide, swallowing everything in its way. The forest, older than memory, was gone—reduced to ashes, sacrificed to the rebirth of the Dragon God.