Port's eyes widened as he stared at the unconscious form before him. Enzo lay on the ornate bed, his human body in stark contrast to the draconic features Port had expected. The old butler's hands trembled as he reached out, checking Enzo's pulse.
"By the ancients," Port muttered, his brow furrowing. "What manner of creature are you?"
He bustled around the room, gathering vials and herbs from hidden compartments. The Dragon Tower World hummed with ancient magic, its very walls seeming to pulse with concern for their unexpected guest.
Port uncorked a bottle of shimmering liquid, gently lifting Enzo's head to pour it down his throat. "Come on, lad. Don't you dare die on me now."
As he worked, Port's mind raced. He'd seen many strange things in his long years of service to the Dragon Clan, but this defied explanation. Enzo's body showed no signs of his Void Dragon heritage—no scales, no claws, not even a hint of anything other than a regular human.
"It doesn't make sense," Port grumbled, pacing the room. "I know you come from another world and were previously human; all Void Dragons were."
He paused, watching as color slowly returned to Enzo's cheeks. The boy's health bar, visible via Port's Clan screen, inched upwards.
"But how in the blazes did you end up like this?"
Port's thoughts drifted to their earlier encounters. Enzo's unbelievable affinity with the elements had been exceptional—far beyond what a fledgling dragon should be capable of.
"Could it be?" Port whispered, a long-forgotten legend stirring in the depths of his memory. "An Inheritor?"
The word hung in the air, heavy with implication. Port shook his head, trying to dismiss the notion. "No, no. That's impossible. There hasn't been an Inheritor of any Clan in... well, longer than even I can remember."
He returned to Enzo's bedside, checking his vitals once more. The boy's breathing had steadied, but he remained unconscious.
Port sank into a nearby chair, his small form dwarfed by the ornate furniture. He rubbed his temples, conflicting emotions warring within him.
If Enzo truly was an Inheritor, it could change everything. The power such a being could wield... it was both thrilling and terrifying to contemplate.
"But what would it mean for him?" Port mused aloud. "I hear Inheritors are strapped with Quests that are nye impossible to complete?"
The old butler had seen empires rise and fall, had watched as dragons went from revered deities to a Clan with less than a thousand members across the multiverse. An Inheritor could tip the scales- no pun intended.
Port glanced at Enzo's sleeping form. The boy looked so ordinary, so human. It was hard to reconcile this image with the raw potential he'd glimpsed.
"Bah," Port grumbled, pushing himself to his feet. "I'm getting ahead of myself. Inheritor or not, right now you're just a wounded pup in need of care."
He busied himself preparing more medicines, pushing his speculations aside. There would be time for questions later. For now, his duty was clear – protect the last of the Void Dragons, no matter what form they took.
As night fell over the Dragon Tower World, Port settled in for a long vigil. Whatever secrets Enzo held, whatever challenges lay ahead, the old butler would face them as he always had – with unwavering loyalty and a stiff drink close at hand.
====
Enzo slowly opened his eyes, his vision blurry as he tried to focus on his surroundings. He found himself lying on a soft bed, the room dimly lit by flickering candles. As his senses sharpened, he noticed Port sitting beside him, a concerned expression etched on his face.
"You're awake," Port said, relief evident in his voice. "How do you feel?"
Enzo groaned, attempting to sit up. "Like I've been hit by a truck. What happened?"
Port gently pushed him back down. "Easy there, young master. You've been through quite an ordeal. I've treated your wounds, but you need rest."
"Young master? Did you get hit by a truck, too?" Enzo joked, although he didn't know what had happened to warrant the shift in his alcoholic butler's form of address towards him.
Port grunted, taking a long swig of his drink.
"You were passable in there. Tell me, on our way to the Dragon Tower, you mentioned that you received a Quest. Tell me about it."
Now Enzo knew something was up. But, seeing as Port was most likely on his side, him being his butler and all, he only hesitated a second before going over the details of his Quest.
Port nodded along, having already known each inheritor would get this quest until Enzo said something that made him suck in a deep breath.
"Yeah, and the fucked up thing is that unless I build it in 10 years, my soul will get obliterated."
Port, slowly putting down the glass for the first time in centuries, asked, "D-Did you perhaps get something called the [Void Dragon Emperor's Inheritance]?"
His voice came out shaky and Enzo could tell Port was experiencing a lot of emotions.
In the back of Enzo's mind, he recalled the face of Port as he lazily swung his sword and decapitated a few Tier-5 Monsters that had attacked the Pantheons of Damora guild that he had been… actually Enzo didn't know what Port had been doing at the Pantheons of Damora guild other than just sulking around.
The Monsters had destroyed Port's living chambers, which was the other reason Port bothered to react, and yet the look on his face barely changed.
The Port in front of him was now sweating, his brow so furrowed, he thought the midget's face would cave in on itself.
"I did." Enzo slowly nodded. "I thought that's what happened to all Void Dragons."
Port closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "What skills did you receive as part of the Inheritance for Tier-1?"
Port's words were calm, and his eyes remained closed.
Enzo shrugged.
"I got [Void Emperor's Aura] and [Void Emperor's Body]."
Port nodded, his small body rocking back and forth before he punched the wall so hard that the whole house shook. "Of course, he gets the most busted skills. And how in the five factions can he get the Void Emperor's Body in Tier-1?! The records indicate it had only manifested after Tier-7!"
Port ran his hands through his hair, pulling out some strands, but he didn't seem to notice.
"And don't get me started on that blasted aura! Sure, it won't do any good at first, but when this continent gets integrated, he can rally all the dragons. Not one of those old fogies would dare not come out of seclusion when he has the aura."