Over the course of the past six months, weapons had become the most frequently discovered items among the ruins.
Most of them were worn-out, rusted, or broken beyond repair. Longswords, scimitars, and other ancient blades—some had lost their edges, while others were snapped in half. Yet, Rayder didn't dismiss them. He picked up each one carefully, turning them over in his hands, eyes searching for anything of value.
Most, he found, were just ordinary iron tools—nothing like the fabled Valyrian steel, which shimmered like liquid silver and could cleave through metal like paper. There was no trace of the mythical sharpness or craftsmanship. Still, Rayder reluctantly categorized these relics as scrap metal and stashed them into his system space.
"Who knows?" he often mused. "Maybe they'll come in handy later—for crafting, recycling, or even trading."
But weapons weren't the only treasure hidden beneath the ruins. Sometimes, books surfaced from the depths of the forgotten world. And those, Rayder considered far more valuable than any rusted sword.
Though time had not been kind to them, and most were little more than brittle, yellowed parchment threatening to disintegrate at a touch, Rayder treated each find with reverence. The moment he uncovered one, he wrapped it in cloth, carried it back to the Dragon Lair, and gently laid it out on a makeshift reading platform constructed from scavenged stone and wood.
These books were windows into the history of the Valyrian Dynasty, the mighty empire that once rode dragons and wielded powerful magic. They spoke of conquests that spanned continents, of sorcerers who could reshape mountains, and of dragons that soared like gods above the clouds.
Rayder found himself enthralled. Each passage drew him deeper into the Valyrian Golden Age. He could almost see the gleaming towers, feel the searing heat of dragonfire, and hear the clash of battle between the Great Houses.
Yet, the pages that captured his imagination most were those that mentioned two cryptic terms: "Black Mist Demonic Eyes" and "Orc Invasion." The words alone sent chills down his spine. The texts spoke of some ancient calamity, of darkness rising and monstrous armies clashing with dragons under blood-red skies.
Unfortunately, the books were incomplete. The narratives broke off midway—pages torn or rotted away. Sentences ended abruptly, and blurry illustrations left more questions than answers. It was a mystery with no clear conclusion. And Rayder, increasingly invested, wanted more.
"Just what happened here?" he often whispered, fingertips tracing broken lines of Valyrian script.
When it came to the magical tomes, however, his enthusiasm quickly turned into frustration.
The language of magic was nothing like common speech. These pages were filled with twisted runes and complex diagrams that made his head hurt. No matter how long he stared, the symbols refused to make sense.
He tried—truly he did—but his original body had no magical foundation, and it showed.
"Magic really is for geniuses," Rayder muttered after yet another failed attempt, rubbing his temples. "A dummy like me shouldn't even bother."
Still, he didn't throw them away. He stored the books with the rest of his loot, thinking that perhaps someday he might find a way to decipher them—or meet someone who could.
Then came his greatest discovery: Dragon Eggs.
Hundreds of them.
They came from abandoned nests buried beneath collapsed towers, from the back of long-forgotten caves, and—shockingly—even from inside the stomachs of sandworms, though that occurrence was extremely rare.
Each egg was a different size and color: shimmering black, smoldering red, mysterious purple, stormy blue, and even dazzling hues of gold and silver. He piled them all within a special chamber in the Dragon Lair, a vibrant, multicolored mountain of potential.
Im and Yigen, his loyal dragons, accepted the eggs without protest. Sometimes they circled them protectively or nudged them with their snouts, as if acknowledging their future siblings.
Rayder looked upon the pile with pride and hope. These were his future warriors, his growing army. The foundation for a kingdom that had yet to rise.
During this half-year, Rayder had become more than just a hunter. He was a scavenger, an archaeologist, and a builder of empires. Each day he hunted, collected, cataloged. Each night, he planned, studied, and dreamed.
And he was getting closer—closer to the goal of ten thousand Evolution Points.
---
One clear morning, as usual, Rayder mounted the broad, black-scaled back of Im, his eyes sharp and alert. Behind him, Red Dragon Egon followed closely, wings stirring up clouds of dust. And flapping alongside them, still small but growing fast, was the three-headed dragon Kidora, eager to prove herself.
They soared over the Valyria Ruins, scanning the earth below.
But today, something was off.
The land stretched out beneath them like a graveyard. No movement. No life. Just cracked earth, scorched metal, and silence. No Sandworms twisted through the dunes. No lizards darted for cover. Even the ever-watchful carrion birds were absent.
"It's... too quiet," Rayder muttered under his breath.
Im let out a low, uneasy growl in agreement. The silence wasn't just a lack of sound—it was suffocating, unnatural, as though the world itself had gone into hiding.
Rayder's instincts screamed danger.
But after a moment, he realized the truth. They'd done this.
For six months, he and his dragons had decimated everything in sight. The prey had either been wiped out or forced into hiding. The sandworms, once so brazen, had learned to burrow deeper or flee the surface entirely. Even the black mist, which usually hovered like a malevolent fog, seemed to have retreated underground.
"Looks like we've cleaned out the neighborhood," Rayder said dryly, surveying the empty landscape.
Still unwilling to return empty-handed, he directed the dragons to fly lower, hoping to stir something up. But nothing answered.
No movement in the shadows.
No trembling in the earth.
Not even the whisper of the mist.
Frustrated, Rayder finally signaled for retreat. They turned and headed back toward the lair, the weight of the day's failure pressing on his shoulders.
The Dragon Lair, tucked deep within a concealed gorge and protected by a massive stone slab at its entrance, welcomed them home in silence. Rayder jumped down, boots hitting the hard stone floor, and stared at the now disappointingly small number on his system panel.
6,340 Evolution Points.
Still far from ten thousand.
He leaned back against the cool stone wall, arms crossed, and sank into thought. The daytime hunts were no longer effective. There was no prey left.
But there was one more option—night hunting.
Yes, it was risky. The black mist grew thicker at night, and more dangerous creatures were likely to emerge. But high risk often meant high reward.
If he wanted to hit his goal, he had to take the leap.
He nodded to himself, decision made.
Tonight, we hunt.
As he pondered logistics, a sharp metallic crunch broke the silence.
Rayder turned sharply. In the corner, Kidora sat by a jagged piece of discarded metal, chewing on it like it was candy.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Her teeth, already sharp and incredibly durable, tore through the shard effortlessly. She bit off a chunk, tossed her head back, and swallowed it whole with a delighted snort.
"This little monster..." Rayder muttered in amazement, watching her go back for more.
Kidora had grown quickly. In just six months, she'd gone from a palm-sized hatchling to nearly a full meter long. Her wingspan stretched almost two meters now, and she was starting to glide with surprising agility.
Each of her three heads seemed to develop slightly differently—one more aggressive, one more curious, and one more cautious. But all were undeniably intelligent.
And now, apparently, all three liked to eat metal.
Rayder chuckled to himself. "If I ever run out of food, I'll just toss her into a scrapyard."
But deep down, he felt something stir. Kidora was different. Her growth was accelerated. Her instincts sharp. And her diet—unusual even among dragons.
A rare breed?
A mutation?
Or something... more?
He didn't know yet. But he intended to find out.
And as night slowly fell across the Valyrian ruins, casting shadows over ash and stone, Rayder's eyes gleamed with quiet determination.
Tonight, the hunt would begin anew.
And this time, he'd venture into the true depths of the darkness—where power, danger, and the unknown waited.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)