A domineering declaration, delivered in a magnetic, authoritative voice that oozed regal charm.
Rayne was certain—if this were his past life, such a tone would've attracted legions of people with… particular tastes.
"Good thing I'm not one of them."
Shaking off the thought, he turned his attention back to Ddraig.
"Do you know anything about this world?"
"Some fragments, but only enough to confirm it's not my original world."
Her voice carried a subtle shift in tone.
As one of the former Heavenly Dragons, she was well aware that multiple worlds existed.
The realms of Heaven and the Underworld, for instance—places she'd frequented.
And then there was the domain of the being who stood above even her, a space nestled within the crevices between worlds.
So, being pulled into another world didn't faze her.
What did catch her off guard was the sheer audacity of the summoning—ripping her away from her destined host, severing that bond with unrelenting force.
Yet she felt no anger.
"Domination" was her creed. If fate itself had been overridden by a greater tyranny, then so be it.
For now, she'd observe.
She'd see if this little host of hers had the resolve to bear the hatred festering within the legacy of the Red Dragon Emperors.
"You've asked your questions, brat. Now it's my turn—tell me of this world's strongest."
Her low, smoldering voice simmered like a volcano on the brink of eruption. The emerald gem on the gauntlet pulsed rapidly, its crimson glow deepening.
Rayne's own blood surged in response.
"I'm being influenced…"
Noticing the shift in his emotions, he frowned.
Even as a soul, a being of Ddraig's caliber could unconsciously sway her wielder's psyche—especially when her emotions ran high.
Of course, his young body and underdeveloped magic resistance didn't help.
He didn't mind the battle-lust—in combat, it'd be an asset.
But in daily life?
Hard pass. He had no interest in turning into a hotheaded idiot like Natsu.
Still, he couldn't blame her. Suppressing the rising fervor, he answered:
"I know a little. Acnologia—a black dragon."
Unlike with his guildmates, Rayne saw no reason to hide this from Ddraig.
She'd be his partner in growth, after all. Some secrets were better shared early.
"Oh? A black dragon?"
Ddraig's voice dripped with intrigue. She'd expected vague rumors, not a concrete lead.
"Yes. The dragons here can devour magic and matter aligned with their element. That one… consumesallattributes."
Rayne's gaze sharpened as he studied the gauntlet.
If they ever faced Acnologia, Ddraig might be their trump card.
(Assuming, of course, he didn't summon an even stronger dragon by then.)
"Hmph! 'Devours all attributes'? Sounds like the weaklings he fought just didn't hit hard enough!"
Ddraig's scoff radiated disdain.
As the embodiment of supremacy, she'd never concede defeat without a fight.
In her mind, any "absorption" had limits—overwhelm it with sheer force, and the gimmick crumbled.
"Maybe…"
Rayne didn't commit to an answer.
If Acnologia's immunity was purely physical, then yes, overwhelming power could break through.
But if it was conceptual?
Then brute strength alone wouldn't cut it.
Their exchange continued, with Ddraig gaining a clearer picture of this world and Rayne confirming that—aside from the gender-swap—her original realm remained largely unchanged.
A decent first conversation, all things considered.
But talking wasn't enough. Rayne needed to test the Sacred Gear's power.
Theory paled next to firsthand experience.
Slipping on his shoes, he stepped into the center of the room and clenched his draconic gauntlet.
"BOOST!!!"
Ddraig's war cry erupted from the emerald gem, a declaration of battle that sent tremors through the air.
Power surged from the gauntlet, flooding Rayne's veins. Every muscle fiber ignited with newfound vitality, thrumming with raw energy.
The rush was intoxicating.
He ached for a fight—a worthy opponent to unleash this fury upon.
"Stamina's draining fast… and my body's swelling to its limits."
Suppressing the battle-high, he focused on analyzing the strain.
"But the real issue is the mental pressure."
At a single Boost, the effect was negligible.
But he knew—with each multiplier, the hatred embedded in the gear would gnaw deeper.
The lingering grudges of past hosts, seeping into his psyche.
Just as the next Boost loomed, Rayne deactivated the gauntlet.
"Tch. You've got a long way to go, brat."
Ddraig's taunt was velvet-wrapped steel.
Rayne didn't argue.
"I know. I'll train my body and magic—neither can be neglected."
No excuses. No blaming his childish physique.
A stronger body = greater Boosts.
Deeper magic reserves = longer summonings.
And beyond that?
Combat skills. Discipline. Willpower.
The path ahead crystallized in his mind.
Whether for vengeance against the Black Magic Cult or to never again watch loved ones die helplessly—
He. Would. Improve.
The fire in his eyes burned brighter than the room's lamplight, resolve hardening like tempered steel.
"Oh?"
Ddraig, attuned to his spirit, smirked within the gauntlet's abyss.
"Not bad. Very well—I'll look forward to seeing how far you go, my little host~"
(Quietly, she mused: If he could summon her across worlds, others would surely follow.
And with that power?
Unless he fell to mediocrity—or an early grave—he'd become a force to reckon with.
A conqueror spanning realms.)