That day, every Draco across the world had the same dream.
A colossal black dragon stood atop a desolate desert, gazing down at them with a commanding presence. In a voice filled with majesty, it proclaimed:
"Children, I am your ancestor. I have awakened from my ancient slumber and shall soon reign supreme over this land."
"The Draco are my descendants. The Aslan have earned my recognition, granting them the right to become kings."
"Now, find an Adakrys, kill him, and when I claim dominion over this land, I will crown you as the Victoria King!"
In the barren wilderness, two sisters jolted awake from their dreams.
In Ursus' frozen tundra, a young girl in military uniform couldn't understand why she had suddenly fallen asleep.
But in their minds, an image of a strong crocodile man emerged simultaneously.
The people of Terra would never know how close they had come to a crisis. Some nobles would never realize that the reason they still sat high in their thrones was because someone else had shielded them from impending catastrophe.
In the rain-drenched Acahualla rainforest, the rain continued to pour as Gavial looked at the sky with discontent.
"At this rate, my clothes will never dry."
Garde had been gone for nearly a month. Since she had gone to the hellish Hotlands, Gavial understood she wouldn't be back anytime soon.
But life in the rainforest was so boring. If not for Garde, she would've left long ago.
While some Tiacauh loved the rainforest, others didn't.
Besides, staying in the rainforest no longer helped her grow stronger. Gavial knew
Garde was always growing stronger, even now.
So she couldn't afford to fall behind.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
Gavial, flipping through a medical journal Enam had brought back from outside, looked up.
"Who is it?"
"It's me!"
Tomimi tiptoed to twist the doorknob and pushed the door open.
"And me."
A familiar figure appeared before Gavial.
"Zumama, what are you doing here?"
"I'm not here for you."
A short-haired girl in scanty attire entered, carrying a strange machine. Her serpent-like tail flicked, scattering raindrops as she glanced around.
"Where's Garde? I'm here to find him."
"You didn't know?" Gavial's face lit up with a triumphant smile.
"He's gone to the hotland. He probably won't be back for half a year."
"???"
Several question marks popped up above Zumama's head. The problem was, she had just appeared!
"I'm going to find him!"
"Not allowed!"
"Why not?"
"It's too dangerous!" Gavial crossed her arms with a smug "I'm doing this for your own good" expression.
Zumama's gaze sharpened as she fitted the machine onto her arm.
"Then beat me first!"
"Hah, who's afraid of who?"
...
The Hotlands
After the Khagan perished, the dream shattered. Saria finally woke from her Nightzmora.
She had overcome the fear in her heart. No matter how terrifying a Nightzmora, it could no longer bind her. But the dream formed by countless Nightzmora Knights had still trapped her in slumber.
When she awoke, she saw Kal'tsit holding a metal sphere pierced by a dagger, turning to face her.
"It's all over now."
The curtain falls on an era.
No one would know that the Nightzmoras who had conquered half of Terra a millennium ago and then vanished into the Hotlands were now preparing for their second expedition.
Ascalon, Ace, and Misery began to wake one after another where they had fallen.
"What's the situation outside?"
"No idea."
"We need to help Garde!"
Saria had already started running towards the shelter's exit. She couldn't forget how Garde had held off the terrifying black dragon alone. Even though Garde had gained immense power through some means, Saria couldn't stop worrying.
She knew that any power, no matter how great, always came at a price.
In the corridor, the remnants of mechanical Nightzmoras lay dormant, rendered inactive after the ancient civilization's terminal was destroyed. Carefully stepping around them, Saria emerged into chaos.
After the Nightzmora Khagan was slain by Garde, the disaster beasts once controlled by the ancient civilization had gone berserk. While many had been killed in the aftermath of the battle between Garde and the black dragon, and others were incinerated by Surtr in her fire giant form, tens of thousands still remained.
Misery, now unable to use Originium Arts, knew that escaping the city meant breaking through the blockade of beasts. Yet Saria felt a glimmer of hope—an army of lizardmen was charging toward them. Without the ancient civilization to command the beasts, their forces had become disorganized.
The lizardmen's five-thousand-strong charge was enough to break the beast swarm.
But Saria wasn't focused on that.
Where was Garde?
Where was the black dragon?
Neither could be found, as if they had vanished into thin air.
In a corner, Surtr groggily awoke.
Her mind was a tangled mess of chaotic memories. She only remembered her name and that the massive sword she carried was called Laevatain.
Oh, right.
And the crocodile.
Surtr vaguely recalled a crocodile man who was always slowing her down.
Though she often found him annoying and sometimes didn't even want to bother with him, he was her slave. As his master, she could at least show some patience.
Where was that crocodile?
...
At the edge of the Hotlands, a crocodile man staggered forward, his body drenched in blood—whether his own or someone else's, he didn't know. His crimson eyes flickered with a struggle for control, as the rage of the Butcher of the Sands roared within him.
"Nasus! Nasus!"
"No, no, I'm not looking for Nasus!"
"Gavial!"
"Laurentina!"
"Saria!"
He pressed onward. He was Garde. He was not Renekton.
Renekton's will could not control him!
If Garde still had his senses, he would have noticed something. His strength had grown yet again, and he had fulfilled the goal of this expedition.
[Current Hero Template: The Butcher of the Sands (Renekton) lv6]
After an unknown distance, Garde finally collapsed.
In his daze, he seemed to hear voices.
"Sister Razer, look! There's an Adakrys here!"
"Leave him be!"
"But he's hurt."
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