Chapter 565: A Dragon’s EGG
"Do gods truly exist in this world?" Max asked, his voice low, almost reverent, as he gazed at the softly glowing black egg nestled in the shimmering energy field.
The question wasn’t asked casually—it was born from the awe that had taken root in him ever since he could think, ever since awakening his class.
The colossal black dragon stirred slightly, its enormous wings tucked neatly against its body as its ancient eyes stared into Max’s very soul. "They do," the dragon replied calmly, its voice a thunderous whisper of eternity. "But not now. Not anymore."
The dragon’s gaze drifted toward the egg, and for a moment, a flicker of something like sorrow passed through those timeless eyes. "This egg is a remnant. A sleeping heir. It was conceived from a direct descendant of the true dragons—my ancestor—during the Primordial Era. That was a time when gods walked openly in the Divine Realm, when the laws of heaven weren’t studied—they were written by their hands. But something happened. A calamity, a reckoning, a shift so vast even our kind could not escape it."
His voice deepened, almost mournful. "That event shattered the foundation of that divine age, and the egg, which was meant to awaken under the light of true gods, could no longer grow. It was trapped between the echoes of a dead age and the silence of this one. It could not remain in the Divine Realm, for the world has changed too much... so it has slept here, in the heart of the Nine Dragons Painting, bound by the last breath of the old world."
Max looked again at the egg, the bluish pulses of natural energy throbbing from it like a heartbeat. It wasn’t just an egg—it was a legacy sealed in time, a testimony of an era no longer remembered, kept alive in a place beyond reality.
And standing before it, Max suddenly felt something stir within him. A whisper. A call. As if the sleeping god inside was calling for him, calling to his bloodline.
’What is this feeling?’ Max stood in front of the dragon egg, stunned.
It hadn’t even hatched, and yet something within it reached out to him—not with words, not with presence, but with a strange, ancient calling that tugged at the core of his soul.
The egg looked harmless, unmoving, nestled gently in the cradle of natural energy and watched over by wandering spirits, yet standing there, Max felt something stir inside him—something deep and primal. It made no sense.
How could something unborn, something still waiting to emerge into the world, exert such influence over him? His instincts screamed recognition, connection—something far older than blood.
Just then, Blob’s calm voice echoed in his mind, breaking the silence.