Chapter 116: The Weight of Fear
The dragon stood at the bottom of the grand hall, its golden eyes fixed on its sworn enemy high above.
It knew the Ashborne was in the worst condition it had ever seen him, yet it was hardly in a better state itself. The relentless chase to reclaim the flower had left it battered and exhausted, only for it to lose the flower anyway and end up inside a place that clearly wasn’t naturally formed.
The hall itself was magnificent, even by the dragon’s standards. Vast tunnels branched from every direction, while the towering ceiling disappeared into shimmering darkness, looking like a night sky full of stars. Under different circumstances, it might have admired the place. Instead, the realisation that it had once again fallen victim to the Ashborne’s schemes filled it with burning fury.
Still, the struggle was finally nearing its end.
The dragon couldn’t understand why the Ashborne had lured it into such a place instead of fleeing. Despite his mangled leg and obvious exhaustion, the human had chosen to stand his ground.
No matter how many possibilities the dragon considered, only one seemed plausible.
’That wretched ant has finally given up.’
There was no other explanation. The hall lay far from where they had fallen together, and the Ashborne had been given every opportunity to escape. Instead of disappearing into the countless tunnels, he had waited here for the dragon to arrive.
Even if he still possessed the flower, he was no longer in any position to threaten it. He wasn’t in any condition to run away again.
The dragon failed to realise that, after suffering countless injuries, enduring the fall, and chasing its prey without a single moment to recover, its judgment had become clouded.
Otherwise, instead of embracing such a convenient conclusion, it would have noticed the obvious. Everything about this place screamed trap.
"You have the flower... You are finally giving up."
Excitement seeped into the dragon’s voice.
Its only regret after chasing the other ant atop those pitiful squirrels was that it hadn’t killed the Ashborne first. Now, it would correct that mistake.
It would kill the Ashborne, reclaim the flower, and then turn every last ant hiding inside this safe haven into prey.
Yet the human showed none of the despair the dragon expected. Instead, he met its gaze with quiet defiance, as though he intended to fight until his final breath. The dragon almost laughed.
Then the Ashborne spoke.
"Dreastare Ability."
In the next instant, his eyes turned crimson. Seeing the red eyes, the dragon stiffened.
It would never forget those eyes. They were the same eyes the Ashborne possessed when he stole the flower, setting every disaster that followed into motion.
Yet... after the crimson eyes, nothing happened.
The Ashborne remained exactly where he stood. His body did not move, his aura did not surge, and no power erupted from him.
Only his eyes had changed.
The sight was so absurd that the dragon almost burst into laughter. Just as it prepared to charge up the stone path and tear the Ashborne apart, a single thought suddenly surfaced in its mind.
’He looks quite confident.’
The mere thought froze the dragon in its place. Then another surfaced.
’How did such a fragile sack of flesh steal the flower from me in the first place?’
It was a question that had lingered ever since the flower was taken. For some reason, however, it felt different now; it felt quite heavier. If the dragon didn’t care about the answer before, now it was impossible to ignore it.
The thought spread through its mind like ripples across still water. It replayed every moment, it saw the Ashborne stealing the flower, escaping attacks that should have killed him, slipping through impossible openings, toying with the dragon while carrying its greatest treasure.
Then... The world around it dissolved.
The damp stone hall vanished, replaced by a vast valley bathed in warm sunlight. Lush grass swayed beneath a gentle breeze, while familiar mountain peaks and cliffs surrounded the peaceful landscape.
The dragon stood beside the flower once more.
It watched the blossom reach full maturity. It watched itself pluck it from the earth. It saw small dark clouds gathered overhead as radiant rain descended upon the flower, bathing it in shimmering light.
Then it consumed the flower. And power flooded its body as it ascended into an S-grade dragon.
The entire safe haven trembled beneath its might. The protective dome cracked under the pressure, the earth quaked violently, and even the sky seemed to darken before its overwhelming presence.
It watched the rune towers collapse one after another, while the faces of countless ants turned ashen with despair. Their bodies trembled, many collapsing to their knees as hope abandoned them.
Then came an army of mighty races led by dragons, sweeping through the safe haven and slaughtering every last ant without mercy.
It witnessed the end of their futile resistance, the destruction of the stubborn safe haven, and the reclamation of this corner of Eldrune by the mighty races.
And at the centre of it all stood the dragon itself, celebrated, admired, and obeyed. It was the pride of dragonkind, a hero honoured not only by its own race but by many others.
It saw itself getting praised, its efforts warmly recognised. It saw glory, fame, and power. It saw a future where it even ascended the legendary throne of the dragonkind.
Then everything shattered before its eyes.
A single ant stole the flower, young, frail, and weak. He was an Ashborne on top of that.
’Don’t tell me he is truly that dangerous...’
’Don’t tell me the legend is real...’
The dragon recalled an ancient myth, one every dragon despised remembering.
The dragon knew Eldrune had never tolerated too many mighty races existing at once. Some believed Gaia imposed an unseen limit to preserve balance, while others claimed the world itself lacked the strength to sustain so many dominant races together.
To the dragon, it never cared about any of that. And yet, regardless of the reason, one fact had endured throughout history.
The dragon read many ancient scrolls telling the same tale. Whenever a new race worthy of standing among the mighty emerged, another inevitably disappeared. The beginning of that change was always marked by the same omen: hearing Gaia’s voice, the Gaia Calling.
As its thoughts reached this far, the vision around the dragon shifted.
It saw other dragons, yet these looked smaller, less majestic, standing before a terrifying race that it instantly recognised.
’The terrifying ancient Selvators...’
The recognition struck the dragon by lightning. It knew that the dragons had risen only after the Selvators vanished from Eldrune. They had been a fearsome race, yet Gaia eventually chose the dragons as their successors.
The world around the dragon shifted, time passed fast, and everything blurred. It felt like it was travelling at insane speed across the river of time. And aeons later, another race appeared: humans.
The world fixated on one particular human. He experienced a Gaia Calling and sought out the dragons, asking about the mysterious voice that had spoken to him.
The dragon watched the scene unfold as though it were happening before its own eyes. The human repeated the exact message he had received. Gaia had asked him to find the dragons and ask them about the voice.
’It’s the Dark Gaia Omen Day...’
The dragon instantly recognised that moment. It happened over two hundred and fifty years ago. For dragonkind, that moment had been nothing short of a catastrophe, gaining an infamous title that no one dared to speak aloud.
The dragon knew the reason. Dragons had only heard Gaia’s voice during the first centuries after arriving in Eldrune. Once they ascended, once the Selvators disappeared and Gaia acknowledged them among the mighty races, the voice never returned.
Not a single dragon heard it again. And a human hearing it and the dragons were mentioned by Gaia meant one thing; it was their turn to go extinct.
The dragon knew that was the reason why dragons had always regarded humans with hostility. Yet despite that hatred, some willingly sought human women, hoping their descendants might inherit the privilege of hearing Gaia’s sacred voice once more.
The dragon despised such acts from the bottom of its heart. And yet, the world shifted and changed again around it.
It showed the incident that happened fifteen years ago, the incident that turned rumours into a fearful legend. It was when the name Ashborne became synonymous with disaster.
And now one of their descendants stood before it.
For the first time in long years, the dragon felt something it had almost forgotten: fear.
It feared what the Ashborne might become. It feared what the Ashborne had already accomplished.
Suddenly, everything connected: the stolen flower, the battle against the Dark Hunters, the clash with the mine’s defenders, the arrival of B- and A-Rank Enhancers, and finally, this trap.
A chilling realisation settled over it.
From the moment the flower had been stolen, it had been dancing in the palm of the Ashborne’s hand.
With every dagger silently piercing its flesh, another doubt surfaced, another possibility emerged, and another piece fell into place until fear quietly consumed its mind.
Then it noticed the fear consuming it. Rather than surrendering to fear, rage drowned it.
ROAR!
"I won’t fall for the petty tricks of a filthy ant!"
"We wiped out the Ashbornes fifteen years ago, and today I will erase their descendant as well!"
As its roar echoed through the hall, the vision shifted one last time.
It saw the Ashborne standing atop the mine. It saw him evade its assault. It saw him drive a single kick into its body, sending it plummeting into the abyss.
Then everything froze.
Only the Ashborne’s eyes remained, the crimson, cold, merciless eyes. They were the same eyes that had looked upon it while stealing the flower. It was the same eyes staring at it now with indifference.
The eyes of someone not afraid of it, preparing to kill it.
"NEVER!"
ROAR!
Reason disappeared beneath overwhelming fury. The dragon abandoned all restraint and forced its body into its true draconic form.
The instant its massive body emerged, the ground beneath it shattered. Deep fissures spread through the stone before collapsing into pits that trapped its claws and legs. It struggled to move, but its enormous frame refused to obey. Even its wings could not unfold properly as rocks suddenly fell from the ceiling.
Then the mountain itself answered.
An overwhelming pressure descended from every corner of the mine, crushing the dragon beneath its invisible weight. It felt as though the entire mountain had been placed upon its back, reducing the mighty dragon to something as insignificant as an ant.
That crushing pressure was precisely why it had never dared reveal its true form near the mine. Only its humanoid body could evade triggering this, the only means to escape the disaster.
Transforming now was nothing less than a death sentence.