Breath of Oblivion
The sun dipped below the mountain ridge, and the noise from the inn's ground floor gradually faded. I lay sprawled on the bed, blankly counting the grain patterns in the ceiling. Around the thirty-seventh one,
the sound of the last drunken patron stumbling out of the dining area reached my ears. Only after confirming the innkeeper locking up and the creak of her footsteps on the stairs to the second floor did I finally sit up. The bed sprang back with a cheerful bounce, as if liberated.
I draped my new sky-blue cloak over my shoulders and pulled the hood low. Opening the window let a rush of cold night air pour in. The moon hid half behind clouds, and the village was pitch-black save for a few scattered lanterns. Perfect. The darker, the better.
I climbed onto the windowsill. A second-story drop was barely a doorstep for a dragon's body. The issue was the landing. Jump without thinking, and I'd crater the courtyard.
I gathered mana at my toes, twisting it carefully like a thin thread, spreading it thinly across my soles like a membrane. The principle: mana absorbs the impact right at landing. ──Though I understood it perfectly in theory, this was the first time consciously trying it.
'Eh, it's not like I'll die from a fall anyway.' Without hesitation, I jumped.
Thud. The moment my soles hit the dirt, the mana membrane cushioned softly, swallowing all shock. Like stepping barefoot on a blanket. Not perfect, but quiet enough not to wake the sleeping village.
I glanced back at the inn. Dark windows, silent stables. The small village shrouded in night. By dawn, the poachers would gather there and set off. I had to be back before then.
I pushed off my toes and darted down the village's back path.
Running at full speed in human form was far more exhilarating than expected. The dragon's accumulated leg strength exploded with each step, propelling me forward. I threaded between trees like an arrow, bounding tens of meters up steep inclines by using rocks as footholds. A bit of focus on weight distribution kept my footprints from digging too deep.
The problem: the faster I went, the narrower my field of vision. Even with a dragon's superior dynamic sight, hurtling through pitch-black forest meant branches slapping my face constantly.
Smack! I swatted away another branch with the back of my hand, gritting my teeth. Irritation flared, but reflexively, I recalled the previous disaster. One burst of annoyance, and the forest beasts all fainted en masse. I forcibly crushed the emotion flat.
Breaking from the treeline past the timber limit, the wind shifted sharply. Without trees as windbreaks, the high-altitude gale whipped my cloak mercilessly.
A massive rock wall loomed soon after. Perfectly vertical. The cliff face soared dizzyingly into the black night sky. From below, it was impossible to tell wall from sky—a colossal stone barrier.
A height that would take a human a full day dangling from ropes and pitons. No wonder the poachers planned two days.
I gathered mana at my toes again. An advanced version of the inn window trick. This time, not shock absorption, but adhesion. I compressed mana densely underfoot, forming suction cups that gripped the rock surface.
'Feels like a gecko with suckers.' The first step onto the wall: the mana membrane clamped onto the rock's micro-unevenness. I leaned in. No slip. Second step. Third. I began running up the sheer cliff.
Each foot lifted, the next slammed firm; gravity tugging at my back was effortlessly crushed by thigh muscles. Weeds in rock cracks brushed my cloak hem. The fierce wind clawed at my hood, but my left hand pinned it.
Midway up, the rock iced over. Frosted sections required thicker mana layers. Crunching ice pierced the silence with each step.
Finally, kicking off the last outcrop, I leaped atop the ridge. The wind opened wide.
Black Thunder Mountains' summit ridge. Jagged black peaks lined like sawteeth beyond the knife-edge, sea of clouds below glowing under moonlight like a vast blanket. A sight to stop a mortal's breath.
But my gaze fixed on one spot: east along the ridge, a massive cave mouth yawning midway down the cliff. Where I'd slumbered centuries ago.
I twisted at the ridge edge, descended the face, and landed lightly on the narrow ledge before it.
Standing at the cave mouth, dry air brushed my nose. Parched rock, old ash. And beneath, thick sulfur. Breath residue.
One step in blocked moonlight, plunging vision to black. But dragon eyes thrived in darkness. Golden slit pupils dilated subtly, outlines glowing bright in the void. The interior sharpened.
'......Ah.'
The floor was a disaster. From stretching unconsciously post-possession awakening. Massive claw marks gaped like rivers on a map. Each groove wide as a man's waist.
Between: shattered rock piles dusted thick, like ancient ruins.
Something hard caught my toe mid-stride. I bent, picked it up. A fingernail-sized black shard in my palm, faint golden pattern pulsing on its jet surface.
A scale. A chip from my massive hide.
'These littering the floor?' I scanned the cave anew. Claw gouges from stretching. Glassy wall melt from a cough. Cracked ceiling, dented floor from shifting and sighing. Glinting scale flecks everywhere.
Centuries of natural shedding scattered in corners, wedged in cracks, buried in dust.
Suddenly, the poacher leader's voice echoed: 'One bone shard nets a thousand gold from the Magic Tower.'
Scales? Far rarer than bone. Calamity black dragon scale. Mana-crystallized ultimate material. Tower mages would analyze grade, element, even survival status.
Next: thorough search, then subjugation force. One shard loose ends it all.
I dropped the fragment. Pointless collecting. Not ten or twenty—from shield-sized intact scales to shards, centuries' worth littered the cave. Sweeping by hand? Dawn loomed, and days wouldn't suffice for manual cleanup.
Claw marks too: how to fill those deep rock gashes? Melted glassy walls obvious to any magic-savvy eye as dragon breath.
Had to erase utterly. I headed out without regret.
Kicked off the narrow ledge, bounded up to the ridge.
Out in the open, high winds tore at my cloak again. Atop the ridge, I overlooked endless black ridges below. Untouched by human eyes. Rune Village a mere dot under clouds, Green Rot Forest a dusty smudge.
With mana fully blocking presence and light, no one would notice summit changes tonight.
I shed the cloak, folding it neatly behind a safe rock, shielding with thin mana from heat. My three-silver fortune—couldn't burn it in transformation.
Extended a hemispherical mana barrier over ridge and cave mouth. Deep breath.
Released heart's seal. First, a hairline crack. Then, dam burst—mana torrent flooded veins.
Vessels swelled near-bursting. Something massive roiled under skin. Polymorph reverse: decompressing vast body was faster, more violently overwhelming than shrinking.
Crack—bones elongated. Muscles tore, regrew dozens-fold instantly. Skin split, jet scales erupted like plate armor. Spine reshaped brutally along back; wingbones ripped through, unfurling twin massive leathery sails skyward.
Seconds. I was the mountain-engulfing black dragon once more.
Krunch! Rock cracked ominously under weight, shrieking. Wingbeats hummed low; golden patterns pulsed lava-hot between black scales with each heartbeat.
'......Been a while.' Second time in this body since possession awakening. Overwhelming output surged through limbs. Power I'd strained to leash in human form flooded free like a deluge.
Spoon-flicking a burly man. Lifting eight heavy sacks feathery-light. Leaping cliffs effortlessly—mere paddling in a pond.
Bone-chilling realization hit. This is the ocean.
Twisted thick neck to eye cave mouth. Vast in human form, now cramped—had to wriggle.
'No need to squeeze in. Sweep from outside.'
Sucked air deep into lungs. Vast mana surged throat, mingling oxygen, igniting fiercely inside.
Heat rose. Solar seed swelled behind vocal cords. Mouth glowed red-hot; crimson pierced thick chin scales, shining bright.
Aimed massive head at entrance. Exhaled roughly.
ROOOARRR—!
Jet-black flames carpet-bombed the narrow maw. Calamity breath. Wipes a town in one go—an all-out miniature poured in.
Soundless inferno. Backlash heat melted rock to taffy, orange waves surging out—but mana barrier contained every wisp beyond mountains.
Black Flame devoured walls, floor, ceiling indiscriminately. Scattered scales, claw gouges, glassy sheen—all molecularly vaporized in thousands-degree hell.
Melt it all. Ash it utterly. As if nothing ever here.
Second breath: deeper, stickier. Reached deepest recess. Rock liquefied crimson, swelling into orange lava lake filling gouged floor flat.
Flame's wake: bubbling red magma swallowed claws, rocks. Last scale traces sank eternally under boil.
No third needed. Cave now perfect furnace.
Whoosh—exhaust heat blasted face, but thick scales shrugged burns. I lifted head, admiring work.
Former floor: boiling crimson lava pool. Walls/ceiling fused molten; no traces remained. Not a scale, not biological hint—utterly evaporated.
Maybe overkill. But certainty rules.
Long hot exhale—not breath, just relief sigh. Yet that alone scorched nearby rock red.
'Seriously, can't even breathe easy with this body.' Self-chiding, I recalled mana, resealing.
Mountain-sized frame contracted rapidly reverse. Bones shrank, scales sank, wings folded; human silhouette returned. Naked, naturally.
Retrieved pristine sky-blue cloak from safe rock—mana shield kept it dew-free, unburnt. Residual heat warmed fabric nicely as I donned it, hood up.
Cave lava cooled edges black-red already. Crusting wrinkles like scab on earth's wound. Mana residue zero; in hours, solid rock—by morning, natural cave sealed by mystery quake.
Poachers hundred-strong? Thousand? Just worthless black stone.
'Perfect. All done.'
Turned to leave—but feet stuck like glued. Something wrong. Nerves taut, dragon senses screamed.
Immense alien stimulus inbound. Snapped head up.
Southern sky rippled ominously. Thought aurora first. Black beam crept from distant horizon beyond clouds.
But dragon eyes pierced beyond visible: mana wave. Massive, vast, creeping north at chilling speed—devouring southern sky.
Like ink drop in clear water, tainting entire mana flow. Not my breath's echo. Origin differed: mine from summit; this from deep south, Arkesia heart.
Chest twinged foreboding. 'What the hell is that.'
Rifled memories: Imperial Year 497, Green Wind Month. One year pre-novel start. No such southern mega-wave in canon.
At least not in The Oath of the Silver Rose.
Wave crept slow but heavy, northbound. Piercing cloud layers, roiling atmospheric mana density. No lone mage or beast could scale this.
Beings for such waves? Severely limited.
Whoooosh—gale howled. Cloak flapped tight. Behind, cooling lava cracked loud, sharp.
Back to hardening rock, I stared south's shimmer.
'Something not in the original is happening.'
Stone chilled underfoot. Three-silver cloak whipped rough. Southern black pulse spread devouring continent; endpoint unimaginable.