Last Egg: Reincarnated as a Dragon in a Game

494  Into The Emptiness

The dragon descended through the absolute darkness, the ever-shrinking bubble of his domain isolating him from the madness of the black hole outside. Gone were the explosions of particles, leaving him in a void of sensory deprivation, silence, and darkness so profound that it felt like a weight on his very sanity.

'I thought it would be more... well, solid.' Even with his acute gravity affinity, deciphering the madness that unfolded beyond the confines of his domain was an exercise in futility.

Yet, he could feel—an undeniable, oppressive force—the gravitational pull intensifying, heralding the approach to the black hole's singularity.

'I am finally near. But...' A sense of unease crept over him, a primal warning from the depths of his being, urging him to flee and never allow his domain to vanish.

Then the storage ring upon his claw vibrated with a sudden ferocity, as if possessed. The pulsing black gem within it ejected like a shot from a cannon, halting mere meters ahead of him. Vesuvius tensed, his gaze locked onto the gem as it radiated darkness, a darkness that seemed to merge indistinguishably with the void of the black hole itself. His horns vibrated, resonating with the powerful energy undulations emanating from the gem, a foreboding prelude to chaos.

'That damn god! What is she doing?! Wha...' His thought was abruptly severed as reality itself seemed to contort, a sensation akin to being hurled from the eye of a storm into an abyss even devoid of darkness itself.

Before him, reality tore asunder, a crack opening within the fabric of existence itself, its pull irresistible.

With a desperate flap of his wings, Vesuvius commanded his domain to twist, and warp, to shield him from the inexorable descent.

Yet, despite his formidable resistance, he felt himself drawn ever closer to crack. Determined not to fall into whatever it went into, the dragon reached toward his divine kingdom, small golden sparkles opening before him.

But in a heartbeat, in the blink of an eye, everything ceased to be.

In the engulfing emptiness, Vesuvius found himself adrift, alone within the small bubble of his domain. Beyond its fragile confines, there was an absence so complete, and profound that it seemed to surpass even the concept of vacuum

He tried to sense the domain. However, there was no force to give him direction, no energy, no space to move through, and no matter—there was nothing he could sense. An absolute void that defied his understanding of the cosmos.

The anxiety of hidden danger gnawed at Vesuvius, making him feel creeps crawl up his spine as if he were watched and observed.

'This must be the void. Without the presence of my domain, there wouldn't be anything. That charlatan with its broken magic knickknacks! Or was it my mistake?' He wanted to curse that chaotic god pretending to be the god of knowledge once more—he was supposed to throw the gem in, not throw himself in.

"A visitor? Is it again that angel? No, it is a dragon." Suddenly, a voice not just echoed but seemed to weave itself from the very fabric of the void around him, staggering Vesuvius as he recognized it, 'That is my own voice!'

The omnipresent blackness of the void undulated, and from its unfathomable depths, a silhouette began to coalesce. Not so much stepping from shadow as being born from the essence of darkness itself.

A pair of eyes, burning with an unnatural purple luminescence, locked onto Vesuvius's, piercing him with a gaze. Dark, writhing appendages—tentacles of an inky, viscous substance—moved and flowed from the dark silhouette.

'That is my form!' The realization dawned on him. He recognized the silhouette—the curl of the horns, the sharpness of the claws and elegant curves of his armor, the silhouette of his tail and wings—all rendered in pitch black, devoid of detail, almost as if it were a shadow of him.

In the meantime, back in Lorenia:

POV Antonius:

A muddy road, a desolate ribbon through fields of ash, stretched to the horizon, its solemnity was broken only by the occasional draft that raised dark clouds into the air.

"They went this way." A voice shattered the silence of the dead plains.

A group clad in black, their dark metal armor engraved with runes that glowed ominously under heavy cloaks, rode forth. The sounds of mud splashing under the hooves of their black, horses, covered in metal, with only their horns and glowing golden eyes peeking from beneath the heavy armor, drummed as they galloped forward.

"Traitors must have gone this way; their scent still clings to the ash," another figure announced, audibly inhaling the dust-filled air.

"Hurry, the traitors cannot be allowed to roam free! They will face their deserved punishment," the leader commanded, and his mount, a draconified horse with horns and eyes that glowed with an otherworldly light, quickened its pace.

'Like in the good old days, just another raid...' The thought was a bitter reminder of times when everything was much simpler.

Their weeklong pursuit seemed endless, yet their draconified mounts showed little sign of fatigue. As the distance closed, the scent of treachery grew overpowering, fueling Aureliuse's desire for retribution.

At last, the tip of the burned-down castle tower peeked from behind the horizon. He could already see the light of fire flickering in one of its tiny windows.

'That must be their base. What idiots to hide in such an obvious place.'

Drawing his sword, the blade alight with runic power, he commanded, "Fan out! We shall strike them down and capture the stragglers."

'There is too much of them to capture them all at once, but we have time on our side.'

His gaze was fixed on the horizon, where the ruins of the burned castle quickly grew in size.

POV The Hero:

A white horse galloped down the burned ash fields, its rider's blue cloak flapping in the wind like flames. His gaze locked upon the ruined castle in the distance, the remains of its walls covered in black scorch marks rising above the field of ash.

'They should be here,' the hero thought, his gaze fixed on the distant silhouette of decay. Today, the hero's heart was split in two. One side of him wanted to punish the players hiding in the castles, while the other one wanted to give them a chance to repent.

'If they join my cause, it would be a great help.' he mused as the castle grew nearer, 'With the power of the cursed draconic blood in their veins, and them seeing the same truth as me, they might become a strong help.'

At last, the hero decided to judge them personally and potentially repent for their crimes with their swords. Nôv(el)B\\jnn