Rayder's disbelief solidified into cold reality the moment he saw the sandworm rear up, roaring as its massive mouth opened wide—revealing rows upon rows of circular, saw-like teeth.
This couldn't be real.
He clearly remembered that over the past six months, he and his three dragons had tirelessly hunted down every last sandworm across the Valyria Ruins. They had exterminated them completely—meticulously, methodically. He had even watched the system panel confirm the kills with awarded evolution points.
So how could one—let alone several—still exist? And worse, how could something this big still be hiding beneath their feet?
A chill of dread surged through Rayder, the "What the hell is going on?" thought echoing in his mind like a bell of doom.
Then he noticed it—vibration. The pebbles on the ground, scattered across the volcanic rock, had begun to shudder violently. Not all at once, but intermittently, in chaotic patterns that could only mean one thing: more sandworms were on the move.
"Im! Pull up—now! Get away from the ground!" Rayder barked without hesitation. Survival trumped pride, and he wasn't about to wait for answers.
Black Dragon Im responded instantly, sensing the growing tremors. With a thunderous beat of his massive wings, he launched into the air, carrying Rayder upward just in time.
Because below, chaos erupted.
The ground fractured and exploded as more sandworms burst out of the earth like a swarm of subterranean leviathans. They emerged like monstrous drills, hurling aside dirt, rock, and unfortunate flesh-like creatures that happened to be standing too close.
Those same creatures—twisted, humanoid abominations—were flung into the air like broken dolls, their bodies smacking against stone and ash as they rained down across the battlefield.
And through it all, the black mist—that ever-present, silent malevolence—began to churn even more violently.
It wasn't just a backdrop anymore.
It was controlling this madness.
It moved with eerie purpose, flowing like a living shroud across the mountainside, weaving itself among the newly emerged sandworms and commanding them like a general overseeing an army.
The worms didn't spit venom, and they didn't snap with their teeth. Instead, they began launching massive rocks from their cavernous mouths—rocks they'd dragged up from the depths of the earth.
Some of the projectiles were small, the size of a man's torso. Others were monstrous, boulders the size of small wagons. They shot through the air like cannonballs, propelled with such force that they screamed as they passed, creating deadly shockwaves that rattled even the heavens.
Rayder ducked low, clutching tightly to Im's back as they ascended, the freezing wind slashing against his skin, his hair whipping wildly.
Around him, the world became a storm of stone.
The whistling of deadly projectiles tore through the night like banshee wails. Smaller rocks smacked into Im's scaly body with thud thud thud, drawing pained roars from the exhausted dragon. Each impact echoed through Rayder's bones.
This wasn't just an ambush anymore—it was an all-out war.
Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. The ground wasn't safe. The skies weren't safe. And still, the black mist continued to loom, silently orchestrating the chaos like a maestro of death.
But somehow—by sheer instinct and perhaps luck—Im managed to keep flying, weaving between falling stones and climbing higher. The wind howled. Rayder's heart pounded in his chest. But they made it.
They escaped.
Beaten, battered, and nearly broken, Black Dragon Im finally reached the peak of the shattered volcano. Rayder could barely feel his body as they crossed the threshold into the warmth of the dragon lair.
It wasn't luxurious—just a crude shelter carved from fire and stone—but it was home.
The moment they landed, the thick, sulfur-laced air enveloped Rayder like a blanket. He slid off Im's back, his boots hitting the rough rock floor with a crunch that somehow made him feel grounded again. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he could breathe.
He turned his head and immediately spotted Red Dragon Egon in the corner of the lair. The dragon was curled tightly, its body trembling in a restless sleep. The curse continued to gnaw at its core, draining its vitality like a parasite. Egon didn't even stir when Rayder approached.
But it was alive.
They'd all made it back alive.
Rayder exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. His heart, which had been in his throat the entire night, now settled back into his chest.
He crouched by the wall, leaned against the warm stone, and let himself fall into a seated position, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The entire night had been madness.
And now, in the relative safety of the lair, the questions began to plague his mind.
How had those sandworms returned?
He knew they were extinct. The system's evolution point counter didn't lie.
Unless…
Unless the Valyria Ruins themselves were changing. Adapting. Or worse—responding.
Then there was that cursed black mist. By day, it was nearly invisible, dormant, as if it didn't exist. But by night?
It came alive.
It didn't just empower the fleshy creatures. It organized them. Directed them. It summoned sandworms like pawns, turned them into living artillery, and unleashed them like a calculated, strategic strike.
That wasn't natural.
That was war.
Rayder's brows furrowed. There was still the curse to deal with too—Egon hadn't recovered. And while Kidora and Im had barely managed to avoid falling under its influence, Egon wasn't so lucky.
He needed a solution. Fast.
Rayder opened his system interface, bringing up his personal status panel.
---
Name: Rayder
Gender: Male
Age: 12 (12 ~ Infinite)
Evolution Points: 7051
Storage Space: 100 cubic meters
Bloodline: Ancient Valyrian Dragon King, Dragon Rider, Titan King
Abilities: King's Might, Gravity Ray, Storm Control, Current Manipulation, Super Regeneration
Status: Good
---
Rayder sighed in relief. He wasn't cursed, and his body—while exhausted—was in good condition. The evolution point count had also risen. Not by much—just over a thousand gained—but any progress was welcome.
Next, he checked Kidora:
> Status: Good.
Then Black Dragon Im:
> Status: Weak.
That was acceptable. The curse hadn't returned, and weakness was a temporary state. His previous effort—letting Im drink his blood—had clearly worked to stave off the corruption.
Then came Red Dragon Egon:
> Status: Cursed.
Rayder's stomach dropped. The bright red letters blinked ominously like a silent alarm. That curse—it clung to Egon like death itself, relentless and unyielding.
There was no time to hesitate.
Rayder reached for the dagger strapped to his side, unsheathed it, and drew it across his palm. Pain flared instantly, followed by warm, sticky blood dripping from the wound.
He held his hand above Egon's mouth. The dragon was unconscious, unable to feed. But he had to try.
He signaled Kidora with a nod. The younger dragon came closer, head tilting in curiosity. Im, exhausted but obedient, shuffled forward as well. Rayder motioned for them to help, gently prying open Egon's mouth.
Then, carefully, he let his blood drip down into the dragon's throat.
This blood—the blood of the Ancient Valyrian Dragon King—had protected him, and had saved Im. It had to work again.
Rayder could only hope.
Hope that the bloodline flowing through his veins still held the power to cure.
Hope that Egon's bond with him was strong enough to anchor him back from the abyss.
Hope that the nightmares of the Valyria Ruins weren't just beginning.
Because one thing was now painfully clear:
This cursed land was waking up.
And it remembered.
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