The volume of information is so immense that Owen's soul nearly bursts, like a fragile bubble teetering on the edge of bursting.
Weakly, he tries to open his eyes, to seek help from those around him, but the overwhelming energy robs him even of this basic ability.
Barlo, noticing Owen's distress, grows tense and anxious, "It's happening, as feared. Saint, you must hold on!"
The surrounding tribe members, witnessing this, are visibly worried.
They kneel, hands pressed together, muttering prayers for Owen.
"God of Dragons above, protect our Saint."
"Lend me your strength to bear this pain in place of the Saint..."
They know if Owen fails to withstand this power, the Transformation Ritual will end in disaster, possibly costing Owen his life and shattering the future of the dragons, plunging them into an abyss.
Suddenly, the sky presents an even more miraculous phenomenon.
Soft thunder rumbles through the clouds, followed by a beam of golden light piercing through, aiming straight at the ritual platform.
In this light, a massive ethereal figure of the God of Dragons slowly appears, its eyes radiating a gentle, bright light, its limbs surrounded by halos of power.
Seeing this, the dragons who had not already knelt do so in unison.
The descent of the God of Dragons, even as a mere apparition, is an event unseen in the dragons' millennia-long history!
Mixed emotions of fear, excitement, and joy intermingle.
They all understand: the God of Dragons must have come for Owen.
There is hope for their Saint.
The apparition of the God of Dragons opens its massive jaws, exhaling a gentle mist of golden vapor that surrounds Owen.
This golden mist acts like a barrier, gradually absorbing the excess energy within Owen, bringing his swelling body under control.
Simultaneously, Owen's soul space is enveloped in a tender force.
The chaotic knowledge and memories begin to orderly align, no longer overwhelming torrents but clear streams of information gently flowing in his sea of consciousness.
With the help of the God of Dragons' apparition, Owen's agony diminishes, and the painful expression on his face smoothens.
His breathing stabilizes as the power within him is remolded, harmonized, and strengthened.
The Transformation Ritual, under the guidance of the God of Dragons' apparition, successfully concludes.
The golden mist, having absorbed the surplus energy from Owen's body, solidifies into a golden egg-like object.
It gently descends to Owen's lower abdomen.
This golden egg continuously emits energy, relentlessly fortifying his body and purifying his blood.
The apparition of the God of Dragons has not only greatly aided Owen but also paved the way for his future cultivation.
As the last wisp of golden mist fades, the apparition of the God of Dragons also gradually merges back into the sky.
Owen, on the ritual platform, is now a true Gold Divine Dragon.
His large body is covered in golden scales, flawless like a sculpted masterpiece.
His wings, spread wide, seem capable of overshadowing the sky, while his tail moves slowly in the air, exuding an aura of majesty.
The Gold Divine Dragon, one of the most revered and powerful beings among dragons.
The tribe members, witnessing this miraculous transformation, instantly replace their worries and fears with excitement and joy.
They rise from the ground, their eyes sparkling with genuine admiration and tears of happiness.
Loudly, they chant, "Saint! Saint!"
Their voices, filled with endless reverence and hope, resonate in every corner of Dragon Echo Valley, creating powerful waves of energy.
Amidst these calls, Owen opens his newly transformed eyes, his gaze piercing through the figures of his people and reaching towards the distant horizon.
He deeply feels the responsibility on his shoulders, as well as the expectations and trust of his people.
Owen takes flight, his wings majestically unfurling, and lets out a dragon's roar:
"The future belongs to us dragons!"
The cries of "Saint!" grow even more fervent, with the tribe's cheers echoing throughout Dragon Echo Valley.
The echoes linger, as if even the ancient mountains bear witness to this moment.
Time once again falls into silence.
Owen immerses himself in cultivation, utterly engrossed.
Half a year passes slowly. Seated atop a mountain cliff, Owen calls to his mind,
"System, display the panel."
Instantly, a blue panel materializes before him.
[Host: Owen]
[Age: 16]
[Race: Dragon]
[Bloodline: Gold Divine Dragon]
[Realm: Gold-tier]
[Strength: 784, Constitution: 589, Speed: 358, HP: 5647]
[Skills: Dragon Breath Flame, Dragon Scale Shield, Dragon Claw Rend, Dragontongue Chant, Golden Spiral, Dragon Shadow Trace, Dragon Wing Slash, Frost Art, Rock Art, Dragonheart Mastery...]
(Note: Subsequent skill section will only display key skills.)
[Special Ability: Prophecy]
[Fate Points: 73]
"Defeating Malcolm last time changed the course of the future. I didn't expect to gain so many fate points," Owen muses, stroking his chin with some joy.
He's been so occupied lately that he hadn't noticed he was close to leveling up his special ability, Prophecy.
Time flows like water during his cultivation in Dragon Echo Valley, making Owen somewhat oblivious.
Initially, he regarded Dragonheart Mastery as a divine skill, but now, having mastered the Gold Divine Dragon bloodline, he naturally possesses the effects of Dragonheart Mastery.
This once crucial skill has become somewhat superfluous to him.
Moreover, Owen can now achieve feats beyond the reach of Dragonheart Mastery.
Even pure-blooded dragons are influenced by his dragon blood in his presence.
The Gold Divine Dragon bloodline naturally exerts dominance over dragons and races carrying dragon bloodlines.
Moreover, Owen has two forms.
As a member of the advanced race of dragons, he can freely transform between his human and dragon forms.
In his human form, his magical abilities are enhanced, allowing him to wield powerful spells.
While in his dragon form, he boasts formidable physical strength, defense, and regenerative abilities, and can breathe magical fire.
Owen hears footsteps approaching from behind and, without looking, knows it's Barlo.
"What's happened?" he asks, turning around.
Barlo, wearing a grim expression, replies,
"Some troublemakers have taken over the Green Dragons' territory—the Windshadow Forest. They need you, saint, to take a look."
Owen stands up, brushing dust from his clothes. "Who are they?"
"Trolls, those hideous creatures."
"And their highest tier?"
"Diamond-tier."
A fierce light glints in Owen's eyes as he declares, "I'll lead the team to eradicate them."
Barlo, anticipating this response, chuckles softly.
"Saint, Nikol from the Dragons' Guard wants to join you."
As Barlo finishes speaking, Nikol steps forward from behind him.
He stands tall and robust in front of Owen, his short red hair blazing like flames, contrasting with his deep green eyes that seem to hold the power of fire and life.
Nikol's skin has a subtle copper-red hue, a trait of his Red Dragon bloodline, shimmering softly in the sunlight.
He is clad in a red and black scale armor, each scale gleaming as if crafted from the scales of a Red Dragon themselves.
It not only signifies his bloodline heritage but also his esteemed status as a member of the Dragons' Guard.
Kneeling on one knee, Nikol's broad shoulders slightly bowed yet maintaining a dignified posture, he looks up with firm and powerful voice:
"Saint, I am Nikol. I pledge to follow you into battle, swearing by the blood of the raging flames to guard your glory."
Owen, looking at this valiant warrior of the Dragons' Guard, shows a hint of admiration in his eyes.
He extends his hand to help Nikol rise, responding, "Nikol, I accept your allegiance. Let us fight side by side for the glory of dragons."
As Nikol leads Owen along the winding mountain path, the dappled shadows of the trees dance around them, with sunlight filtering through the leaves, creating patterns of light and shadow.
Suddenly, a faint sound of weeping, carrying deep sadness and helplessness, reaches Owen's ears.
Following the sound, he eventually discovers its source near a moss-covered rock.
A young Green Dragon girl is curled up there, tears tracing paths down her cheeks.
Her skin has the luster of emeralds, and her long golden hair drapes over her shoulders, trembling slightly with her sobs.