With the fragments of memory that had surfaced, he now knew his name — Darksmoke. He was aware of the daunting challenge that lay before him, for his siblings had also been dispatched to distant worlds. However, Darksmoke had the unnerving realization that he had awakened later than they had. This delay placed him at a disadvantage, as his siblings likely had an upper hand, having potentially undergone their initial evolution and perhaps even attained a second, more mature transformation.
As he contemplated this unsettling truth, Darksmoke's mind became a repository of knowledge, an understanding of dragonkind's hierarchical structure.
...
0 Rank - Hatchling 1st Rank - Youngling 2nd Rank - Adult 3rd Rank - Lord 4th Rank - King 5th Rank - Emperor 6th Rank - Ascendant 7th Rank - Divine
...
The higher echelons of this hierarchy remained shrouded in mystery, knowledge reserved for the powerful few who could ascend the ranks.
The hunger pangs that awakened Darksmoke from his slumber now gnawed at him insistently. While his awakening had been marked by an insatiable appetite that felt as if it could consume worlds, he recognized the illusion for what it was — a manifestation of his profound emptiness.
Surveying his surroundings, Darksmoke's gaze settled on a small creature. A mouse. Instinct wrestled with his draconic pride; consuming such a modest quarry seemed beneath him. But necessity cast aside his reservations, for in this moment, he was a beggar without the luxury of choice.
Swiftly, Darksmoke lunged at the unsuspecting rodent, only to find it had vanished with uncanny speed. A blur of movement, and the mouse reappeared no longer before him but at his side, its tiny form battered by his own thrashing tail.
Stunned by this twist, Darksmoke could only react. The mouse, undeterred by its initial misfortune, rallied with a swiftness that caught him off guard. Mana flickered at the tip of its claws as it delivered a precise strike, drawing blood and causing pain to sear across Darksmoke's flank.
A primal growl rumbled from his throat, mingling with the metallic clang of contact as his tail struck against the mouse's strike, averting a potentially disastrous blow aimed at his eyes. Yet, even in this tumult, a newfound sensation stirred within Darksmoke — a surge of strength, fiery and unrestrained.
Screech — The clash of forces resonated, and Darksmoke's injury, though regenerating, seeped with crimson still. A surge of fury welled up from within him, an inferno that consumed reason. His maw parted, and flames surged outward, enveloping him in an aura of blazing heat.
With irises turned the color of smoldering embers, Darksmoke darted forward, his body a living conflagration. The mouse, a creature of mere instinct, faltered in the face of the dragon's primal onslaught. Its flight was desperate but futile, for it faced an apex predator adorned with the might of a legendary lineage.
A leap, a scream — the mouse's futile evasion culminated in a fiery maw closing around it. The creature's existence was sundered, yielding a deathly ding — an obsidian orb, the spoils of triumph, fell. Darksmoke consumed the orb, a surge of power radiating through his being, resonating with the essence of the slain prey.
As swiftly as his wrath had surfaced, it receded. Darksmoke's consciousness emerged from the crimson haze, his heart racing as he surveyed the aftermath of his fury. Astonishment mingled with a burgeoning self-awareness — he had triumphed over a Rank 1 beast.
In his earliest fantasies, Darksmoke could not have conjured such an outcome. The memory, however, was hazy. All he recalled was the mouse inflicting an injury, and then... rage. His very being had metamorphosed into a tempest of rage and power.
It was then that he recognized the sensation — a skill, an ancestral gift that transcended his nascent existence. A berserker's prowess, augmenting his strength and velocity, shielding him in a mantle of augmented defense. Yet, such power came with a cost — a toll on his vitality, a vulnerability in its wake.
As the echoes of this revelation reverberated within him, fatigue descended like a shroud. He slumped to the ground, his consciousness faltering as his newfound strength waned, replaced by an exhaustion that threatened to consume him.
[Back to the Present]
Awash in the lingering resonance of his memories, Darksmoke lowered himself onto the cavern's floor. A cascade of thoughts and sensations coursed through him, a tapestry of experiences etched into his very essence. Sated from his recent meal, he embraced the realm of dreams — an age-old ritual for dragons, a sanctuary where their spirits roamed free.