Fafnir woke up in a small dark room. He looked around. He didn't see much but he could tell that he wasn't alone. He was sitting on the floor with his back against a cold wall. He wasn't restrained or anything, so he stood up. He hit his head. The ceiling was really low. He channeled his spiritual energy into his eyes, allowing him to see better in the dark. Spiritual energy was really diverse. He had always found it a bit strange that Spiritual energy allowed him to do basically anything, but he never thought much further about it. He tried to remember how he had gotten here.
The last thing he could remember was fighting the Ruler Of Dragons. He lost the fight. Though, he thought he had died. He had felt how the burning energy of his opponent tore his soul apart from the hole in his chest. He had also blacked out. It was the first time he had ever lost against the Ruler Of Dragons. It was strange losing. He had never lost a fight on life and death yet.
He wondered what had happened to the kid. Before blacking out he had seen the kid in a new body facing the Ruler Of Dragons. He was surprised that the kid had survived the clash between the Ruler Of Dragons and Fafnir himself. Though, the kid had probably been killed right after. It was too bad. The kid was a bit of an asshole. But there was something about him that made Fafnir like him.
He was kind of sad that Smok was gone. He had started to feel like a younger brother to Fafnir. He didn't want to be in Smok's place, though. The poor kid had a hatred towards the Ruler Of Dragons bigger than anyone Fafnir had ever seen before. Which was strange, because he got off rather easily. He was a lucky one. He didn't have to see his relatives die. But there was a flame inside of him. He had always tried to hide his hatred. But when Fafnir had looked into Smok's eyes, he could see what was really going on. Something that Fafnir hadn't known about had happened to Smok which amplified his hatred by multiple times. Smok had never told him about it, though.
And there, he died, with that hatred and will for revenge unfulfilled. It was depressing to watch Smok at times. Because he was so dedicated to killing the Ruler Of Dragons, but he just didn't have the talent or power to do so. He tried every day. Fafnir never liked striking him down time and time again in training. It was Smok who insisted to keep going. Fafnir knew it had been pointless anyway. But he couldn't bring himself to tell Smok he was no good. Which was funny, really, because Fafnir was the one that lost to the Ruler Of Dragons in the first place. Trying to save Smok was no good and still failing to kill the Ruler Of Dragons even with the insane collateral damage dealt made Fafnir feel like a piece of shit. First, though, he had to figure out where he was. He kept moving carefully paying attention to not hit his head on the low ceiling.
As he hurried on, he saw people in chains to his left and right. They were emitting strange sounds in agony. He didn't bother doing anything about it though, since he had other priorities right now.
He managed to find a corridor that lead out of the room. He followed it, inspecting the walls. They were very roughly dug into a large mountain, but the further he went, the cleaner and smoother the wall and the path he walked on, became. He still had to keep his head low to not hit the ceiling, though. He kept walking, until he reached the end of the corridor. He found himself in front of a wooden door. He opened it. On the other side of the door lay a corpse. He turned it around to get a better look at its face. The body was partly rotten, but he could define a scarred face and red eyes. White hair. He looked like a Dragon Duke. Black claws grew from his hands. He left the corpse on the floor as he continued venturing through the corridor. He kept walking for a good while, until he found a door. It had been knocked in. The door led to a staircase that spiralled up the tower.
Fafnir walked up the severely damaged staircase. He followed it up for about fifteen minutes. The view was stunning. He overlooked a ruined city built from white marble, red roofs made of a stone he had never seen before. The city was encircled by a partly breached, insanely tall wall. A forest surrounded the city, and it had also spread inside the city as time progressed. He jumped down the tall tower, catching his fall with a well-timed release of Spiritual energy.
He examined the buildings. They were mostly ruined, full of claw marks and dents, torn down walls and collapsed roofs. He found a lot of blood stains as well. He kept walking through the streets. His concern continued building up. Not a single corpse in sight, aside from the one in the tunnel. Then, he realised that the captives in the cave were most likely the former inhabitants of this city. Though, it didn't add up. The captives were all still alive. However, the destruction of this city took place at least five thousand years ago, judging by the traces. Something was seriously wrong, but Fafnir couldn't quite put his finger on what that was. Or rather, he could, but it was only a hunch. Not one worth sharing, though. Not yet.
After searching the city and finding no signs of life, Fafnir headed back to the cave. On his way, he got a closer look at the corpse in the tunnel. It was still warm and emitting spiritual energy, but judging from the energy flow, the corpse had been lying there for forty years at least. The body was in way too good of a condition for that, though. The spiritual energy had probably kept the body in such a state after death. The clothing seemed foreign, yet elegant. The golden garment was smooth like silk, shimmering like velvet.
Fafnir carefully cut open the cloth from the back, revealing the full body of the corpse. No wounds. Seemingly, its heart had simply stopped. He opened its mouth, looked inside, to find that all the teeth were still perfectly intact, the saliva still dripping. It seemed like it was still alive. Aside from the fact that it obviously wasn't. No pulse, no breath. No reflexes upon contact with the skin, irises. The corpse had remained perfectly intact over the course of forty years at least.
He cut open the skin on the back of the corpse. The blood still seemed fresh. He checked the vitals. No form of harm whatsoever. What was concerning though, was that the heart was still completely fine. Not beating, but no sign of cardiac arrest whatsoever. The soul also seemed intact. It didn't react to spiritual energy. The person in front of Fafnir was definitely dead, but there was something else.
It was rare for souls to survive the death of the individual. Though the soul embodies the consciousness and life force of a being, under special circumstances, they could be separated and killed off separately. It only happened rarely though, and it wasn't an act any Dragon Duke could ever complete. Including the Ruler. A human mage had done this. Based on the looks of the dead Duke, he was rather powerful. On the verge of becoming an incarnation, the pinnacle of power for most Dukes. Yet a human mage had bested him. Something was wrong. Humans were unable to reach those heights in power.