"He attained the Wraithbound Mage Body, mm? That should…" he mumbled, rubbing his temples again, "… be the third rank in dark magic cultivation.
Despite the challenges dark magic causes in comparison with pure one, he could still attain it.
I feel like the other ranks are shadowing my memory, but I know how tough it is to continue living with every ascension a sorcerer makes. What a guy the dragon was."
"Aura wants to be the acting leader?" he intoned; his voice was barely audible over a whisper.
He could notice Aura's eyes never leaving him, although she didn't show that much interest in hearing what he was saying. After all, she always respected boundaries. But not very good at it.
"Does Zmey Ashbane want this? As a capable and strong leader, would he want anyone to carry his responsibility? Even his best friend?" he mumbled, shooting a glance at the lotus-gown-dressed dragon.
Why would he, if not Zmey Ashbane, but Orion Stonewood, want to follow her suggestion?
As she stated, he feels tightness at some points in his joints. Moreover, some parts ache like a needle was used to poke from the inside – like the side of the abdomen.
Perhaps the life drain issue made it seem even a monumental work to raise a finger. As if an unseen force was working in sync with a colossal weight inside of him that kept every part of his body rooted.
'The stress and everything else is real. But these are things I can handle. I have lived the past eight lives, dying under immense pain that I don't even want to recall.
This is nothing in comparison. Ultimately, the most important part is to think if the dragon would have accepted if it were still itself.'
However, something bolted the side of his head like a physical slap. The idea seemed like a vast exterminator, making his initial notion seem unnecessary.
It struck him – this was a realm, a world mainly of fire creatures who kowtow and take orders from just one person. A red, malevolent Western dragon.
Ifrits are known for their overwhelming pride, hellions are known to be exceedingly cunning to go against orders without notice, and salamanders struggle with maintaining control which leads to destruction.
There are other fire spirits and creatures far more dangerous and uncontrollable than them.
However, under the reign of Zmey Ashbane, they all followed his orders. Indeed, none of them went down to Earth as he had commanded.
Admiration and respect were definitely among the reasons for that. Besides, who wouldn't be like that towards a dark cultivator with a Voidbound Mage Body?
The Mage Body was simply a transformation of the entire body system relative to ascension in ranks under certain costs.
Similarly, both pure and dark magics set this extraordinary evolutionary trend for their respective practitioners.
While pure magic has more advantages than the latter, there are still limits to its practitioners unlocking their full power because there are rules that govern its use.
Furthermore, there are abominable magics to practice, and precautions too, unlike the unorganized dark magic.
However, dark sorcerers prove more formidable but would be at a disadvantage against a group of pure ones.
'The dragon is gone. Now, it's Orion Stonewood acting for himself. I can't carry any responsibility when I'm not anywhere near goodness at all.
Ultimately, all that matters is what I want and feel, not him. No fire creature here would go against me.
Aura is another trustee's lucky card for the ritual to end me, a potential one. But there's a lesser possibility that she would harm me.
The outcome already lies within the lucky cards from the outset. The porridge sellers in my first reincarnation already hated their slave boy, Dennis, before locking him up in the coal room.
While Kelly always felt oppressed by Commander Ronan Walsh, his best friend, being his second in command. He had wanted to receive the main praise every time they were victorious in a war.
The envy brought him poison his own friend with a slow burn type, after colluding with the enemies.'
A biting sensation coursed through his chest, making its way to his throat. He wanted to clutch his chest, feed off the pain that always had tried, always tried to devour him.
But he resisted. He always had. He took a deep breath, clutching his fist tightly.
He loosened his tight fist afterward. The thoughts had always tormented him; however, he marvels over them just like now.
'This time, I won't hope for what isn't real from the outset. She can remain in her seat, and I would descend to Earth. Not like the greatest defenders would sit by, seeing the evil dragon threaten their people.
That's Aura for you; she's more resourceful for her dragon friend.'
Without prior notice, Zmey rose from the dark stone throne, ignoring the weight, trying to pin him back down. He stepped down the dark stone stairs, feeling a kind of heat building within him with every step.
Getting to a few feet from Aura, who had kept silent since he halted. There on his left-hand side, near one of the golden dragon statues, was a mirror whose silver frame dully shined. It rested against one wall.
The mirror reflected his image – in a red, long cloak that trails the floor behind him, a V-shaped large opening showing his broad chest. Aura looked between him and the mirror.
Her brows furrowed in silent wonder. People really could change – she had thought. Zmey was just giving the mirror attention?
He had pale, almost translucent skin covering all, including his chiseled jawline. He had piercing yellow eyes, one which complimented his long, flowing black hair dropping towards thin, arched eyebrows.
At the back of his forearm and around his neck were black dragon-like scales. He had a tall, lean frame; dark trousers flowed downward, pinning closely to his skin.
They tucked into a pair of black leather boots, with black iron belts with ornate buckles bound around his hips.
He had a composed countenance, but with a dreadful hint that contrasted wholly.
Afterward, Zmey shifted from the mirror, taking just three feet to stand nearer to Aura. He stared down into her eyes, not avoiding contact like earlier. He was doing this for none other than himself.
He needed to act like the Zmey that this white dragon was familiar with. Even though these two people were that close, she would never defy a direct order from the emperor.
Like scouting through the entire realm because the emperor ordered.
Zmey stood tall, looking down at none other than someone exuding readiness to take orders from him. She squared her shoulders, eyes hardly taking a blink.
Now, it was just one more step for Zmey to take. Or Orin, instead.
His stomach felt somehow empty right away, as though a hard nut had just loosened. When things had gone the way he wanted, he could get away from this mystery. And he would rest in peace.
The significance to him and a walking dead man was equal.
He couldn't die yet, couldn't live either. In his life, the sequence of life and death was concurrent. He must live to die and vice versa.
Till when he was on the brink of death in the septennial respawn, he had thought he could break free from the ritual's curse one day.
But it was the same thing. Could he have continued hoping when he knew everything was a fib? That everything was pointless?
Was there anyone that had experienced the same doom? – he always imagined.
Zmey thought, raising his palm to Aura's eye level,
'I'm just a pawn in their entire scheme. I am clueless as to why he framed my father and why he plunged me into this chaos.
My life has no meaning – just one owned by a weak and damned human being that dies off immediately after it respawns. I will bring this to an end already.'
...
Direct Note: Pardon me if the pace is dragging too slowly 😣. I have it under control. Please vote and comment as well. Love you!