Chapter One: The Crimson Awakening
Marcus Eliza never thought the end would come so cheaply.
A deafening horn. A flash of headlights. The brutal crunch of steel against fragile flesh. That was it. At thirty years old, a self-proclaimed otaku who had wasted countless hours watching anime, reading manga, and devouring web novels, his entire existence ended beneath the tires of a truck. His bones shattered like glass, blood pooled on the asphalt, and his last breath slipped past his lips before he could even curse.
His final thought wasn't about family, friends, or love. He had none of those left.
Instead, his mind drifted back to the one thing that had given his pathetic life meaning—a novel.
The Last Descent of a God.
He had read it obsessively. Idolized it. Every word felt sacred, every twist burned into his brain. He had lived more in those pages than in his own miserable life. He'd dreamed of standing in those worlds, wielding that power, and transcending humanity's limits like the characters he worshipped.
And then—darkness, pitch black darkness.
When Marcus opened his eyes again, he was no longer Marcus Eliza.
The memories hit him like a flood: a name that wasn't his, a family that wasn't his, a body that wasn't his. Drake Primordia.
The Primordia. A family whose name echoed like thunder across the world of The Last Descent of a God. They weren't just powerful—they were a Peak Family. Families who had transcended the mortal ceiling of power, clawing their way into godhood. There were only three others: Ragna, Elfia, and Aurora. To be born into such blood was to be born into supremacy.
Or so Marcus—no, Drake—had believed.
At first, he thought this was fate's apology. A shit life exchanged for greatness. He expected respect, honor, and the right to look down on the world like the Peak Families always did.
What he got instead was equal or more painful than his
From the day he could speak, his siblings sneered at him. The 1st and 2nd wives of the main bloodline treated him like filth. He was the unwanted child, the spare, the stepping stone. Every insult carved scars into his heart, every beating reminded him of what he wasn't.
In the end, his new life wasn't a blessing—it was a fucking joke.
Drake's death was worse than Marcus's.
The Null, an organization infamous for slaughtering the untouchable, came for him. They didn't just kill him. They butchered him. Knives slid through muscle, bones cracked under steel, and blood sprayed against the marble walls of his chamber. The laughter of his killers echoed in his ears as life slipped away again.
And yet, in death, he didn't fall into darkness.
Instead, he opened his eyes to see him—a man towering above him, long golden hair cascading like rivers of sunlight, eyes burning with crimson slits that devoured reality itself. His presence was suffocating, divine, terrifying.
The Dragon God. Loki.
Loki looked down at the broken corpse that was Drake Primordia and smiled, cruel and knowing.
"You hate them, don't you?" His voice was like fire licking against Drake's bones. "The ones who spat on you. The ones who mocked you. The ones who cast you aside like trash. You want revenge. You crave blood."
Drake could not speak, but his soul screamed louder than words.
Loki crouched, pressing a clawed hand against Drake's chest. "Then take it. Take my essence, my wrath, my hunger. Rise again, Drake Primordia. Show them what it means to defy a god's chosen."
A burning seed of crimson fire seared into Drake's core. He felt it spread, twisting through his soul, consuming his weakness. The pain was worse than death itself, but beneath the agony was promise—power unlike anything he had ever known.
And then—darkness again.
Drake opened his eyes.
He was four years old again.
The air stank of salt and blood. He was lying in sand, waves crashing behind him. His small body trembled as fists and feet hammered into him. His cousins, the children of the Lia line of the Primordia family, circled him like vultures, laughing as they beat him bloody.
"Pathetic bastard!" one jeered, kicking him in the ribs.
"You think you're a Primordia?" another spat, stomping on his hand until the bones creaked. "Trash like you should've been drowned at birth."
Blood poured from his mouth. His vision blurred. Every strike dragged him closer to the same despair he had felt in his first life. Weak. Helpless. Powerless. Like an idiot.
But this time—something was different.
This time, he remembered.
He remembered betrayal. He remembered blades. He remembered the Dragon God's crimson eyes.
And as one of his cousins raised a jagged rock to crush his skull, Drake's vision snapped into terrifying clarity. His black eyes burned, the color bleeding into a deep crimson. His pupils narrowed into slits. The air vibrated with heat and malice.
He grit his teeth so hard blood trickled from his gums.
"You…" His voice was low, guttural, inhuman. "…will regret this."
The rock never fell.
A shockwave burst from his body, hurling his cousins backward. Their screams filled the beach as sand sprayed and bones cracked on impact. Drake rose to his knees, eyes glowing like burning coals, lips peeling back in a smile so cruel it froze the others in place.
A voice sounded deep within his mind. The sound was... Robotic of some sorts.
[Dragon System Initiated.]
[Essence Core Activated.]
[Bloodline Potential Unsealed: Dragon God's Fragment.]
Drake's small body trembled, not from pain but from the intoxicating surge of power flooding his veins. Every heartbeat roared like thunder. Every breath tasted like flame.
For the first time in two lives, he wasn't weak.
He was a predator.
His cousins scrambled to their feet, terror painted across their faces. "Wh-what the fuck is wrong with his eyes?!"
Drake staggered forward, laughing softly, the sound twisted and venomous. He could feel claws itching beneath his skin, the hunger to rend and tear.
"You wanted to beat me?" he whispered. "Then fucking die."
He moved before they could run.
His fist shattered a jaw in one blow, teeth exploding from his cousin's mouth in a spray of blood. Another tried to scream, but Drake's small hands clawed through his throat, tearing it open in a gory fountain. The others ran, but too slow. Drake pounced, tackling one into the sand, smashing his skull against a rock until it was nothing but pulp.
Their shrieks were music. Their blood was fire. Their deaths were liberation.
By the time silence fell, the beach was painted red. Tiny waves lapped at broken bodies.
Drake stood in the carnage, chest heaving, eyes blazing crimson. His smile widened, dripping with malice.
"I'll kill them all," he whispered, voice trembling with rage and delight. "Every last one of those fuckers who walked over me. Every sibling. Every wife. Every assassin. I'll slaughter them, rip them apart, and bathe in their blood."
The Dragon System pulsed in agreement.
[Quest Assigned: Path of Vengeance.]
[Objective: Kill all who betrayed you.]
[Reward: Evolution into Dragon Vessel.]
Drake laughed, blood dripping down his chin.
For Marcus Eliza, life had been worthless. For Drake Primordia, life had been cruel.
But now—now he was something else.
Something monstrous. Something divine.
The Dragon God's essence coiled inside him, whispering promises of endless strength. He could almost see Loki's crimson eyes watching, approving, daring him to sink deeper into the abyss. And Drake would.
With every breath, every heartbeat, every kill, he would carve his revenge into the bones of the world.
The boy who had been Marcus Eliza died twice. But the creature who rose from the blood-soaked sand that day was something far worse.
The Dragon of Malice had awakened.
And he would burn the fucking world.