He saw a hand holding a figure by the throat.
The figure had no face, no features, just a writhing, pitch-black silhouette that snarled without a mouth. It struggled, claws and tendrils lashing out uselessly, yet he felt no pressure or pain.
'This dream again?' He thought in his head, his voice calm, almost bored.
It was the tenth time today. Every time, he would have the same dream.
And yet, unlike dreams, this wasn't something he could control.
His body didn't respond to his will.
No matter how many times he had watched this scene unfold, he remained an observer within himself. It was as if he were watching a movie from the first-person point of view.
Shaking his head mentally, he stared at the scenery around him. It was a canvas of cosmic devastation.
'It looks good no matter how many times I see it.'
The stars drifting around, broken and dim, their brilliance fading into the cracks of dead space, were a sight to behold.
Yes, it was destruction, but it was still surprisingly enchanting.
The colorful nebulas were flowing like rainbows in the starry space. The crash of universes, responsible for uncountable deaths, still looked like a blooming stellar flower.
A thought, however, would always pass through his head when he saw this scene: just how many beings must've died?
It was a curious question, but it was hard to get an answer. After all, the only people witnessing this scene were he and the being he held in his hand.
Surely, the thing—the being—in his grip must be undoubtedly strong. Terrifyingly so. It was clear from how the space around the entity was twisted by its mere presence.
But he—whatever he had been in that moment—was stronger.
To be able to hold that entity in his grasp like a headless chicken, he had to be stronger.
Just then, the entity within his grip shifted.
'Is it time already?' Wondering, he recalled what was going to happen. He had seen it enough times to remember every little detail of what was going to happen.
'You can kill me now,' he muttered inwardly, and the figure in his grip—
"You can kill me now," the faceless being hissed the exact same words, voice a strange fusion of whispers, echoing like memory through water. "But I will come back again."
'Now, it's my turn.'
The moment that thought appeared, his body moved without his will, his grip on the entity tightening, making it choke.
Then, his own voice echoed through the abyss, powerful and absolute.
"No matter how many times you do it…" His lips moved, and he watched as if through a screen. "I will come to kill you."
'Hah...'
As soon as the scene finished, he sighed as the next second, everything went blank.
...........
His eyes opened again, but this time, seeing a reality he was more used to.
He could hear the chirping of the birds and the rustle of wind through the leaves. He could control his body, and could easily tell that it was his own body and not someone else's.
"Shorter again," he muttered, golden, serpentine eyes, blinking slowly.
The dream had ended again, sooner than last time.
At first, on day one, the dreams had been longer. More visions, more faces, and more people.
Now... only that final scene remained.
Would it vanish altogether soon? He didn't know whether to feel relieved or... something else. After all, these dreams were the only form of entertainment he had.
But then again—who was he, the one he becomes in the dreams?
Even that remained a mystery.
"Maybe that was... me?" He wondered aloud.
He flexed his clawed hand, trying to recreate the pose—fingers wrapped tight around an invisible neck. But no matter how many times he tried, it didn't seem right.
A scoff followed. "No way."
Unlike the fleshy hand he saw in the dream or vision, his hands were huge and clawed, covered in obsidian scales that even sunlight failed to brighten. They were so dark that even the light was absorbed by them.
He lowered the claw and looked down into the clear pond below.
Staring back was a huge dragon, at least fifty meters in length.
Dark black scales covered his snout, angular and gleaming like obsidian.
Four horns curved backward over his head, ridged with streaks of gold. His eyes—golden, reptilian—pierced everything they looked at.
When he had first opened them, he could see beyond what should've been visible. A bird flying high above—a tiny stalk of hay dangling from its claw.
He was a Dragon, not a man like the one in his dream.
He sighed, feeling as if the clue he got about his past had vanished. The only things that could tell him who he was were those dreams, but even those were now getting short.
"Today was probably the last day," the dragon muttered as he predicted this dream wouldn't repeat.
He sighed again, the warm gust of air released from his nostrils creating gentle ripples across the pond's surface.
Ten days.
It had been ten days since he'd woken in this place, ten days alone.
All he had done these few days was eat and sleep.
Yes, that was all he did.
Not because he couldn't move from here but because he was way too lazy.
As for what he ate, well, the forest was filled with a variety of animals, so he just grabbed the largest he could find and ate it.
It might not seem like a long time, but for him, who knew nothing about anything, it was a very long time, especially when he had no one to talk with.
In ten days, his life kept getting boring.
He realized that although he was lazy, he also craved adventure and thrill.
To not feel bored, he had tried talking to the beasts he had caught, but none of them replied. They tried to run, trembled, or simply vanished at the first glimpse of him.
In the end, they served a simple purpose, sating his hunger.
Now, he didn't bother trying to talk.
What was the point? They would just run away from him. Again.
He lay back down, head resting on the soft moss next to the crooked tree bending slightly over the lake, folding his wings at his sides.
The ground trembled as his head fell to the ground, making the tree rustle above him as the filtered light danced across his scales.
"What I would give to hear someone talk to me..."
His golden eyes drifted shut once again. Not from tiredness but boredom.
'I'll search for someone tomorrow. I'll try to fly tomorrow—'
It was a tomorrow that never came as the past nine days had all been such tomorrows. But he still repeated those words as if trying to motivate himself to move.
After all, his laziness never let him move if there was no certainty that he might find someone who could talk.
That was the only reason he hadn't moved until now.
Because he wasn't sure if this world even had beings other than dumb beasts.
But before he could complete his thoughts—
[Unknown lifeform approaching.]
—A voice echoed in his head.
He didn't flinch, though. He didn't even blink.
Not because he wasn't surprised—he was.
But not because of the voice, as the voice... The voice was his own instincts.
Not a friend, not an ally. Certainly not something he could converse with.
It was simply there, existing within him like breath or heartbeat.
Not born from thought or logic, but raw, primal intuition made manifest. It never gave explanations. Never reasoned. It only informed—a nudge from his ultimate draconic instincts.
He blinked slowly, not lifting his head, his golden eyes staring at the still water of the pond beside him as the wind rustled the tree above.
"…Probably another deer," the black dragon muttered dryly, almost disappointed. "Or a boar. Maybe that same dumb bird from before."
The voice, however, spoke again.
[Unknown lifeform is closing in.]
The voice still had no emotion or urgency, but he frowned, slitting one eye open and glancing toward the trees at the far edge of his clearing.
The last time this had happened, a large bear had wandered into his territory. He'd nearly leapt with joy. A bear, a beast smart enough to speak?
He'd lowered his head, let his wings droop, tried to look harmless, inviting.
But the moment the bear had seen him... it had bolted. Sprinting like its tail was on fire, crashing through the underbrush in panic.
The whole encounter had lasted five seconds.
He hadn't even gotten to say 'hello.'
So now, he didn't rise, he didn't hope. Whoever it was, they'd probably run too.
Still... his eyes trailed to the treeline.
And then, his instincts spoke again.
[Unknown lifeform will reach your location in 10 seconds. Speed and trajectory indicate a direct approach.]
His heart stilled.
'What?'
This was new.
None of the other animals had approached directly. Even the bear had wandered around, as if lost, before it came across him, but this one seemed to be heading straight toward him.
"Will I finally get to talk to someone?"
Hope, which was like a poison, sprouted in his mind as his head rose, staring in a particular direction.
He hoped and prayed that this time—at least this time—it wasn't a vain hope, or else...
"I will destroy this forest and fly to some other place."