The Golden Dragon of the Highest Peak
The highest mountain in the Dragon Mountains—simple words for a peak of staggering height. A rocky spire thrusting skyward, its altitude beyond measurement, teeming with magical beasts that defied all reason. A realm no human could ever challenge.
But I wasn't human. I scaled the summit with ease, drank in a vista no one else had ever savored, then bored straight into the mountain's depths.
The sheer scale of the range played havoc with my sense of direction and distance once I tunneled underground. Exploration took far longer than expected. It was only after more than a week that I finally found it.
Deep in the mountain's heart lay a vast cavern, and there, coiled like something out of a storybook, was a dragon. The sight alone was breathtaking. Even curled with tail and head tucked in, it spanned well over 100 meters, this colossal golden beast utterly motionless.
[A dragon! A gold dragon?]
I marveled. What chaos would erupt if this terrifying creature ever emerged into the world? And how had it even entered this entrance-less lair? Its soul loomed like a miniature sun, ringed in golden radiance—proof that dragons, too, were blessed by divine power.
Then the dragon's eyes snapped open. Those reptilian orbs, meters across and gleaming gold, fixed straight on me.
[You've finally come.]
Like me and Kutula, the dragon communicated via telepathy.
[Were you waiting for me?]
[Indeed, successor.]
These ancient beings had a habit of lopping off the niceties.
[Am I the successor? What do I inherit?]
[You inherit me—though precisely what that means, even I don't know.]
Dragon-style riddles? I could almost be friends with an elf.
[How did you know I'd come?]
[At my age, such things become clear.]
[How old are you?]
[I've lived so long on this world that I've lost exact count.]
Irritation bubbled up—the first since leaving the elf village.
[My life nears its end. I have much to impart, so listen well.]
[Ah, yes.]
When Drakan spoke, you obeyed. No need to test its strength; I could sense it rivaled Kutula's. Its soul alone felt like an insurmountable wall.
[Very well, let's begin there. Long ago, when I was but a tiny lizard, a golden fruit fell from the heavens.]
I had no clue what this meant, but I listened.
[It smashed upon the earth, of course. An intoxicating fragrance wafted from it—one I can never forget. I lost my senses, gathered the pieces, and devoured them. Delicious—utterly exquisite. Nothing since has compared.]
A lizard eating fruit? I started fidgeting.
[When exactly was this?]
[As I said, I haven't counted the years. It was shortly after I hatched from my egg. Back then, the world had neither magical beasts nor humans.]
No humans or beasts? How ancient was this?
[When I came to, a baby monkey and three cockroaches surrounded me. They'd eaten the fruit too. That's when I gained awareness.]
[No way...]
[Yes. That baby monkey became the king of all monkeys. It sired countless offspring, and with each generation, they grew smarter, stronger—until they became today's humans.]
A shocking origin story for humanity. But how far back? History books dated recorded human events to about 3,000 years ago. This had to be several millennia earlier—at least 6,000 years for this dragon.
[And the cockroaches?]
[One evolved into the magical beasts of today. Another still lives, like me. The third... who knows.]
The birth of magical beasts—and utterly creepy. A 6,000-year-old cockroach? Surely not Drakan's size. No myths or histories mentioned anything like it. Where could it hide?
[Where's the surviving cockroach?]
[Everywhere.]
[Pardon?]
[All cockroaches in the world are one.]
Chilling words. The more I pondered, the more horrifying it grew. Wasn't this the ultimate power?
Drakan's tale continued. By the end, I guessed its age wasn't mere thousands of years, but tens—or hundreds—of thousands.
[So all the dragons in history books are you, Drakan?]
Its name was Drakan, bestowed by a human long ago.
[Of course. I can't become two.]
And the namer's identity stunned me.
[Who was it that named you Drakan?]
[He called himself Mage Arkbuilder.]
Mage Arkbuilder—the progenitor of all magic, the father of sorcery. Great archmages still earned the title "Arc Mage" for monumental achievements.
[Legends say Mage Arkbuilder learned magic from a dragon.]
[The opposite. I learned from him.]
Another revelation. Perhaps Mage Arkbuilder was divinely touched too.
[Humans live briefly. He died young, even for one. I honed his magic for over a millennium. Now, I surpass him by far.]
Ah, sure, naturally.
No talent withstands such overwhelming time. Drakan then shared the spells it had refined. Absorbing them felt like a year passing. Its word-magic drew on brute mana force—inefficient, impossible for humans. I adapted them on the fly, tweaking to my style.
Drakan was loquacious, spilling eons of life—trivia that bored, secrets that could rewrite continental history, genius like its word-magic. Just listening schooled me in creation myths and full chronicles.
This chance was too vast to abandon. Time slipped away in the timeless lair. I lost track too, centuries blurring as Drakan's words filled history's gaps I'd known.
My questions multiplied. It had said little life remained, but its time flowed differently—no blame there.
I sensed what it meant to bequeath: its entire existence.
At last, the endless tale ended. How long? An eternity, dimly felt.
[My story concludes.]
[Well told.]
[I once thought myself immortal. Then came the moment of mortality—likely your birth.]
[Fate?]
[Yes, such a fate. As my mortal span ends, immortality dawns. No need for sorrow.]
By my measure, we'd shared longer than my prior life. Attachment had formed.
[Becoming a god?]
[God or other, I cannot say. Only that immortal life begins.]
Drakan teetered on the cusp of beast and divine—a demigod. Vaster than Kutula's fragment, now clear. Upon mortal death, godhood awaited.
[Time's up. Guard the record well. We shall meet again.]
Its eyes slowly closed. I absorbed the surging soul. Euphoria dwarfed past feasts—souls or outer god shards. My essence elevated a tier.
I lingered in bliss, watching the husk. Drakan's legacy wasn't just knowledge. Its corpse was treasure incarnate. Venerus's national relic came from one scale. This whole body defied valuation.
The lair brimmed with hoarded wonders—more riches. I pocketed a few usable items into my subspace and departed.
Glancing back, Drakan seemed asleep as first met.
[See you later, Drakan.]
It promised reunion. Demigod foresight rang true. I might need its lifespan to match, but someday, inevitably.
Outside, I headed to Count Ktolari's to check time. Even expecting it, shock hit.
[86 years.]
My lair stay. Kutula still slumbered, unawoken.
I flew to the Venerus Empire—now Ether Empire, tales said. Ether lived.
86 years—too long for mortals. Ether and Elizabeth were surely gone, past 100 if not.
Childlike wards outliving me? Unseen loss tugged.
Passing villages and cities en route, rumors astonished.
[Ether still lives?]
Venerus Kingdom had boomed into Ether Empire. Ether endured.
I accelerated. At the imperial palace—once royal—the aged Ether half-reclined, gazing out a window.
[Ether... you've grown old.]
He startled, then smiled—that boyish grin. But the elder's face felt alien.
“You've come, Guardian. I've waited long.”
[Sorry. Much has happened.]
“As it must. Much has happened to me too.”
[Yes, such times.]
We shared 86 years' tales, laughing, grieving. Elizabeth had passed long ago. Ether Heart Method explained his longevity. He'd taught it to none—not even children—outliving them. His grief cut deep.
I understood parental loss, but not fully theirs.
[Why not pass it to imperial heirs?]
“Too great a power. Loose in the world, only harm follows.”
I grasped his intent, yet wondered at such rigidity. Outer gods and dragons already defied norms.
Frail with age, we both knew little time remained.
[I'll stay till your end.]
“Thank you. One request?”
[No promises like Isabel's.]
“Haha!”
Caught—likely safeguarding his descendants. In that slyness, he echoed his lecherous father.