Carrying his dry rations and a heart full of anticipation, Rayder continued toward the central volcano. Every step brought him closer to what he hoped was the dragon's lair—and closer to realizing his destiny.
He walked in the direction where the dragon had flown the previous night, constantly scanning the sky, hoping to catch another glimpse of the magnificent creature. His excitement was tempered with tension, his mind bouncing between hope and the weight of the unknown.
After over two hours of difficult travel through scorched terrain, Rayder spotted a dead tree still standing stubbornly in the desolate landscape. He climbed it carefully and rested on a thick branch. Lying on the ground was too risky—last night's fire earthworms had left a lasting impression, reminding him how dangerous even the soil could be in Valyria's cursed ruins.
From his perch, he gazed out across a field of volcanoes, each one tall and menacing, spewing ash into the sky. The sight was both breathtaking and troubling. He had no idea which one hid the dragon's lair.
Then, out of the cracked peak of a volcano in the distant southeast, he saw it—a small figure lifting into the air, barely a speck from his distance. But Rayder knew instantly: it was a dragon.
That particular volcano had a massive fissure running down one side, forming a river of molten lava that glowed ominously in the dim light. Thick black smoke billowed upward, painting the sky in streaks of soot.
Rayder's eyes lit up. That had to be it.
The dragon flew overhead, soaring across the sky with majestic grace. Rayder couldn't contain his excitement and called out, waving his arms desperately to get its attention. But it was too far away. His voice was lost in the wind, and the dragon disappeared into the clouds without so much as a glance.
He sighed, leaning against the tree trunk, smiling bitterly at his own helplessness. Clearly, he didn't yet possess the aura or strength to command a dragon's attention. But even in that disappointment, there was hope—he now knew the direction of the lair.
After resting for a short while, Rayder descended the tree and resumed his journey, now with renewed determination.
The closer he got to the broken peak, the more desolate the landscape became. Ash drifted aimlessly, magma oozed between rocks, and not a single normal creature stirred. It was as if some dark magic haunted this land, sucking the life out of everything.
Eventually, Rayder came upon the ruins of a crumbling palace. Within its shattered walls, five wild dogs were clawing at the ground, gnawing on bones—human bones, by the look of it. Their matted fur, glowing eyes, and ghastly forms looked more demonic than animal.
Rayder slowed his steps, moving cautiously. He knew danger lurked everywhere in these ruins, and carelessness could cost him his life.
The wild dogs didn't notice him at first, but as he drew closer, they suddenly froze. All five heads turned toward him, their eyes gleaming red with aggression. But before they could lunge, something happened.
A wave of invisible pressure radiated from Rayder—the Dragon King's Pressure, as the system called it. The moment it reached the wild dogs, their bloodlust turned into sheer terror. Their bodies quivered, tails tucked, and within seconds they were gone, yelping into the ruins.
Rayder exhaled in relief. Though the pressure seemed to keep minor beasts at bay, he knew dragons would be another matter entirely.
He inspected the area the dogs had been scavenging. The bones they gnawed on were indeed human, lying next to decayed armor and broken weapons. Rayder examined them carefully but found nothing of value—most items were corroded beyond use.
Still, he didn't give up. He searched the palace ruins thoroughly and eventually found a relatively intact wall with old weapons hanging from rusted hooks. Swords, daggers, even a few shields, though most were in terrible condition.
He tested a sword, only for it to snap in half when he swung it. Useless.
But eventually, he came across a short sword with only minor rust, its structure solid. He picked it up and gave it a few swings—it wasn't perfect, but it was usable. He grinned. This was something.
He also managed to find a round shield in decent condition, two long swords with dulled edges, and three small daggers. None of it was excellent, but in a world like this, even a rusted blade could mean the difference between life and death.
Rayder slung the weapons onto his back and arms, already feeling their weight burden him, especially with the dragon egg still secured in his chest wrap. He looked like a traveling blacksmith more than a warrior, but he knew he couldn't afford to discard anything just yet.
Leaving the palace, Rayder walked slowly, careful not to trip or fall with his overloaded frame. Not long after, something incredible appeared before him.
Half-buried in the blackened earth was a gigantic skeleton—clearly the remains of a dragon.
It stretched for tens of meters, and the skull alone stood taller than Rayder. Its hollow eye sockets stared blankly into the sky, as if death itself had frozen it mid-roar.
Even in death, the creature radiated power.
Rayder approached reverently, overwhelmed by awe. This was the true size and scale of the beasts he hoped to command.
As he passed within ten meters of the skeletal remains, a voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
[System Alert: Ancient Dragon Bone Detected. Scanning for Residual Bloodfire Energy…]
Rayder stopped in his tracks.
The system continued:
[Trace amounts of Bloodfire Energy detected.]
His heart leapt. Bloodfire—the mysterious energy required to hatch Kidora's egg.
He stepped closer, placing a hand on the bone. The surface was cold, dry, and smooth like stone, but beneath it, Rayder felt a subtle warmth, a faint pulse of dormant energy.
[Absorbing Bloodfire Energy… 1%, 2%... 5%. Absorption complete.]
Rayder's system screen blinked softly, and he felt a rush of warmth through his chest. The dragon egg beneath his clothes shimmered briefly.
He clenched his fist. Progress—finally.
Though the energy was only a trace, it was still something. More than that, it confirmed a crucial fact: dead dragons still held value, even if their fire had long since gone out.
He took one last look at the mighty skeleton and bowed his head in gratitude before moving on.
As Rayder trudged forward, the terrain became even more perilous. Rivers of lava cut across his path, and the heat grew intense. He skirted the molten rivers carefully, using patches of cracked stone as stepping paths.
Eventually, he found a narrow ledge leading up the base of the volcano he had seen earlier. Its rocky surface was steep and unstable, but there was no other way forward.
With his shield slung on his back, a sword in hand, and the dragon egg tightly secured, Rayder began to climb.
The higher he climbed, the more the sulfuric smell filled his nose, and the ash burned in his lungs. The very mountain felt alive—breathing, groaning, threatening to erupt.
But Rayder pressed on, every step driven by a vision of the future: himself, astride a mighty dragon, soaring above the world.
He paused midway to rest on a jagged outcropping and looked down over the vast, cursed land of Valyria. It was broken, haunted—but it was his birthplace. And now, it was his battlefield.
He would claim his fate, one step at a time.
And this volcano—this dragon's lair—would be the turning point.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)