Pain.
A sharp, searing sensation coursed through Snail's body, dragging him from unconsciousness. His vision swam in a blur, dizziness overwhelming him, and his limbs trembled beneath him as he struggled to stand. When the world finally steadied, he realized—he was no longer in the place he remembered.
He was in a cage.
Panic clawed at his throat as he surveyed his surroundings. The cage was small, but the space around him stretched infinitely in every direction. He wasn't alone. A MASSIVE crowd had gathered, surrounding him from every side, their eyes filled with expectation. But they weren't just humans. Dragons, their massive wings unfurled and shimmering with iridescent scales, stood side by side with ethereal elves, horned demons, and creatures Snail could scarcely comprehend. His heart hammered in his chest as the reality of his situation sank in. He had read about these races—ancient bloodlines spoken of in whispered legends—but never had he imagined they were real.
A deep, commanding voice shattered the silence that hung in the air.
"Welcome, everyone, to the Endless Arena."
The voice was like thunder, reverberating through the very ground beneath him. A hush fell over the gathering, every creature, no matter how fearsome, listening intently.
"You have all been chosen by the one true being—the God of the Arena—to fight for the chance to become his successor. You are all unique in your own ways. From the mightiest to the weakest, each of you has a chance. But strength alone will not decide your fate. Battles will take place across countless arenas, each ruled by a King. These Kings govern their domains, and they decide the rules. Some favor combat; others may present trials of different sorts. Choose your path wisely."
The voice paused, as though weighing its next words.
"You have one day to prepare. Tomorrow, all 10,000 of you will be divided into teams of ten and sent to your assigned arenas. There are many ways to grow stronger. Choose wisely… because only the worthy will survive."
Snail's stomach twisted with dread. He was just a human. What chance did he have against beings who could summon fire, call upon gods, or cleave mountains with a single swing? How could he possibly survive?
Then, as panic set in, a thought pierced through the haze of fear—something he had once read in a forbidden text. A legend.
"If you steal the cord of a creature, you inherit its power."
A cord could be anything—a fang, a heart, an eye. The key, however, was to allow the creature to consume you. Only then would the power reveal itself, and at the exact moment when a light began to glow within the beast, you had to speak the word:
"AWAKEN."
But there was a catch. The moment you entered the creature's body, you would be trapped in a trial—one born from its memories, its pain, its deepest fears. To claim its power, you would need to conquer the very essence of the creature.
Snail swallowed hard, forcing back the wave of panic. He had no magic, no divine blood. No supernatural gifts. But he had something else: knowledge. And knowledge, he believed, could be power.
If he survived.
Tomorrow, the battle would begin.
Snail wasted no time. His eyes scanned the arena, searching for the creature that might make this insane gamble worth the risk. Then, his gaze locked onto it—a massive, young dragon, its scales shimmering in the light with an untamed power. But something about the dragon was… off. It wasn't just angry; it was enraged, as though some deep injustice had been done to it. Snail couldn't tell if the creature was male or female, nor could he guess its powers, but none of that mattered.
It was his only chance.
He took a deep breath and, in one fluid motion, ran toward the dragon. His heart pounded in his chest as he reached out and punched the beast. The dragon's eyes flashed with fury, its massive form lunging toward him. With a single, violent bite, it swallowed Snail whole.
Darkness.
Terror gripped him as the world around him twisted and shifted. He was trapped—alone inside the belly of the dragon. His body trembled in the confined space, his mind screaming at him to escape, but there was nowhere to go. And then, through the suffocating blackness, a faint, pulsing light appeared.
This is it.
Snail fought to calm his panicked breath. He had no choice. He had to do this, and fast. He spoke the word, barely above a whisper.
"AWAKEN."
The light inside the creature flared, overwhelming him. His vision shattered, and the world went black once again.
When Snail finally opened his eyes, he was no longer inside the dragon. Instead, he found himself standing in a strange, unfamiliar place. His surroundings were odd—an empty, barren land stretched as far as the eye could see. But something felt different—he didn't feel like himself. He looked down at his hands and saw that they were no longer human. They were clawed, covered in scales.
He stepped forward, moving toward a large, glowing stone at the center of the area. As he drew closer, he saw his reflection in the stone. The figure that looked back at him wasn't Snail—it was the dragon.
Confusion clouded his mind. How? Why? What was happening? But before he could process anything, a voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Hey, Daddy, where are you going?"
Snail blinked. A small figure—a little dragon, no more than a few feet tall—stood before him, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Her eyes.
His heart skipped a beat.
The little dragon was familiar to him in a way that couldn't be explained. She was his daughter.
"Hey, daughter. What's going on?" he said, his voice shaky. He was still trying to make sense of the situation.
"Dad, why aren't you calling me by my name?" she asked, pouting.
Snail paused. What? He knew the answer. It was as though something within him had always known, but the reality was too much to process. "Sorry," he said, forcing himself to remember. "I just woke up a little dizzy. Come on, let's go play."
The little dragon smiled brightly, tugging him toward a vast, grand playground that stretched out before them. As he followed her, something began to change within him. The world around him started to feel more and more real. It was as though he had always been here, and he had always been this dragon. His thoughts shifted, and he began to forget the identity of Snail—the human who had once been so afraid, so small. Instead, he embraced the life of Roth, the dragon.
It was funny how quickly it happened. For two years, he had been Roth. He had felt his name shift and meld with his soul over time, and now, it was a name that brought him comfort. The man who had once been so small, so lost in the world of humans, was gone. In his place stood Roth, the dragon. It wasn't a difficult transition—Roth was who he had always meant to be. The name felt right, felt like home.
Years passed, and Roth found himself growing accustomed to this new life. Sylphie, his daughter, grew older, reaching the age of sixteen, a young dragon coming into her own strength. They lived in a peaceful world that was anything but ordinary. The dragons lived in their own way, with their unique magic—called the Tears of Everything. This magic was Roth's alone, a power that could manipulate the very fabric of existence. It was a force capable of destroying everything in its path, but using it always came at a cost. The user would always have to sacrifice something precious to wield it.
Roth had learned to control his power. He fought with fierce determination, protecting his family and their world. But there was a price for everything.
One day, disaster struck. Demons attacked their territory, and Roth was forced into battle once again. His heart burned with the need to protect Sylphie and their home. As the fighting raged around him, he fought, unleashing the Tears of Everything, using its devastating magic to tear through the enemy. The world seemed to bend and twist in response to his power.
But then—a scream.
The shrill cry of Sylphie, his beloved daughter. Roth's heart stopped. No.
He turned, only to find her lying motionless, her body cold and lifeless. Her blood stained the earth beneath her.
Roth's world shattered.
In that moment, he couldn't bear it. The grief consumed him, and the tears of rage and sorrow flowed. With the power of the Tears of Everything, he destroyed everything in his path—his enemies, his own existence.
And in the silence that followed, he heard a voice.
"You have passed the trial."
The next moment, Roth found himself back in the arena. The battle, the grief, the destruction—everything had been part of the trial. The trial to claim his power.
Time had not passed in the Arena—it had felt like years, yet in the real world, it was only a moment. Everything he had endured—the sorrow, the pain, the destruction—had led him here.
And now, he had claimed his power.