A Chronometric Defect

I possess sufficient power to go topple the Empire right this moment. More than enough, frankly. The Dragon God was a big dragon; about the size of a large movie monster in my previous life. Me? If I uncompressed my form, one of my smallest scales would squash him.

No contest, reah?

l've chosen to not participate in this war directly. Humans made this mess. While I intend to be their arbiter and executor, I'm also letting them clean up their screwup.

I check the status of my various magic spells.

I've renamed 'blast containment' to 'shield.' It can now defend from both sides with equal resiliency. The original spell focused most of its Mana on maintaining its defenses on one side. The new spell can also block damage only upon contact, thus being invisible otherwise. That is, any physical impact, or alternately—

High/low air pressure, high/low temperature, high/low Mana, high/low gravity, or irregular EM density. In the case of low Mana, low gravity, and irregular EM density, the shield generates its own to keep the quantum field populated.

Also, in the case of gravity, it won't accept an altered gravitational direction. It tries to determine nearest largest masses which lets it create a corrected gravitational field.

Plus, what I mean by irregular EM density is, rhem. Electromagnetic waves can be phased together such that they cancel each other out. Kinda like noise-cancelling headphones in my previous world? Properly phase-synchronized waves can dephase again so they'll cause harm after silently passing through the shield.

Which is why I block irregular EM densities. It ensures my shield spell can't be evaded by messing with the electromagnetic wave pattern. High energy but low amplitude, low energy but high amplitude, low frequency but unstable energy density, or plain raw energy without any observable wave pattern. It blocks them all.

In short, if it doesn't look like a normal light wave or radio transmission, it gets blocked.

Not as complex as it seems at first.

Not that I believe anyone will ever do something so complex, either.

Better safe than sorry, rah? It is a shield. Safety is pretty much the whole point.

I check my spells deployed on the battlefield.

Rep. Nobody's so much as dented the shield or my various offensive platforms. Hovertanks, more or less.

I always wanted to invent hovertanks. Not as much as I wanted to be a dragon, but now?

Now.

Now I'mma dragon who owns hovertanks.

"Rawr!"

I grin toothily.

I've given my army ample tools to carry out this invasion in my name. I've also rescinded the peace treaty with Oplenthiom. After all, it only stated we each had to stay on our side of the border until after the bulb was dead.

I don't think they expected me to kill it in such grand fashion. After I fell from the air? Rah, they invaded my lands without so much as rescinding the peace treaty themselves. Not like I care about the treaty; treaties are mere pieces of paper. An agreement whose only weight is the value we give the paper they're recorded upon. We don't seem to have Mana contracts in this world, and I don't want to invent that inscription.

Contracts are awful.

Besides, technically, the treaty's terms were satisfied.

However— if they want to pilfer and rob from my hoard, they'll pay their compensation in blood.

I have so much power. Why do I care? Because power means nothing if it's not used effectively. If others think I'm a pushover, then what I possess might seem up for grabs.

Speaking of effective use, why not split myself into multiple copies and invade personally? Aside from wanting the humans to fix their own problems, it's also a matter of my prestige and safety.

Prestige, because what god invades nations himself? That's not fair or reasonable. I can force people to accept it, as I often have, but that may build resentment. It paradoxically seems like such grandiose actions only ever build my incredibly high reputation endlessly higher. I'm not sure why, but I fear it may be false acceptance— just like Aitos.

Safety, because for the second time I almost got my scaly ass kicked. For the second time, I was bailed out by my Origin. I've realized I definitely had Origin back when I turned into Pure Evil, so it must be what defended me from Parasite.

Rawh, well, I know Autogenous Scion didn't create it.

Although Parasite was blocked by Perfect Mind, it evolved and somehow still didn't win. I noted this oddity and dismissed it at the time. However, as my draconic intellect has grown, little discrepancies like this tend to bother me more. Logic dictates that contradiction is impossible. Something else must've blocked Parasite— the only other possibility is that I had Origin earlier than I initially knew.

I think back to my duplicated status panel and the missing but obviously still active 'evolution' talent.

Reah, me having Origin earlier than I knew is the only case which fits all the data I've gathered.

That said, splitting myself means spreading my power over a large area, which means I'd be far more easily attacked. Though my Overmind ability is strong, it doesn't instantly let me control so many bodies perfectly. My mind may be capable, but I've never practiced with nearly that many copies. It'd be a mess.

Of course, nothing is preventing me from waltzing out there with my whole majestic dragon body.

Except. There's no point!

I look inside Pathfinder and see many perfect recreations of bands of conscripted criminals. Some are fighting, some are marching through fields, and some are talking in camp. They've gotten a second chance. Who am I to take that from them?

A Demigod?

"Rawh rawh rawh."

Amused dragon noises.

...

That's another thing I've realized.

My draconic instincts were already overwhelming. Yet they keep getting stronger.

It's getting to the point that I'm starting to become concerned.

I want to expand my hoard; I want to display my power, intellect, and form; I want to give the tiny humans a chance to prove themselves. I want admire myself, as I'm currently doing.

...

I gaze adoringly at my beautifully spatial claws.

...

This works for the moment, since I'm far more powerful than is necessary to do whatever I please.

These instincts also don't appear to negatively impact my intellect as I'd once worried. Rather, I've become beyond fervent in collecting knowledge to add to my intellectual hoard. Almost at the level of a maniacal mad scientist. I'm suppressing the desire to engage in actual science, for now, but if this continues... I'll need to—

I abruptly look away from my claws.

I flip my tail onto my lap.

*THORK*

I start petting my spike-adorned tail like it's a cat's tail.

*skrrrrtch*

*skrrrrtch*

*skrrrrtch*

I shiver.

Ooh, that feels REALLY good.

Then, I realize something seems off about that.

Hreh? I didn't know I could feel, reh. Anything.

I thought my scales blocked my sense of touch. This black stuff should produce even less sensory information since it's even harder to damage than my scales were, reah?

I mindlessly continue scratching my tail, squirming as I do.

*skrrrrtch*

*skrrrrtch*

*skrrrrtch*

Then, I remember feeling something back when I rapped on my bicep with my finger.

I guess it takes a lot of force?

Nrah, wait.

I thought this black stuff was armor?

I look down at my tail. Hrr.

I scratch it harder.

*SKRRRRTCH*

I shudder WILDLY.

"UHHHOOOOOOH!!!"

Roh. Wow, alright. That's NOT a positive feeling. When I scratch it harder, it's like nails on a chalkboard all over my body. A light scratch is sort of like when I get positive reinforcement from my draconic instincts, but a heavier scratch is like some kind of self-torture. Good thing nobody else has been able to scratch my armor.

I shudder again from thinking about what I just felt.

Ruhhagh. Okay, stop with the tail.

But for some reason, despite how negative it felt the third time... I really want to scratch my tail again.

Reh, why?

...

I resist the urge for a while until it starts to subside.

...

Rhew.

I shrug my thick, muscular arms and sit up in my ornate throne. My tail flops off my lap.

*THOP-tssssh*

A few coins and gems slide away from my tail upon impact. I don't feel anything when it hits those.

Whelp, what am I gonna do? This is who I am. It hasn't harmed anyone undeserving, not unless I count my own ignorance and carelessness. Both of which were caused by my originally human mind being incautious— not my draconic instincts.

As if to welcome my acceptance, I feel my draconic instincts ratchet up another large notch. I suddenly feel a powerful urge to go join the front lines of my glorious battle.

It's backed by a strong desire to display my mighty presence to my many followers; to make them want to stand in awe and wonderment. To make them bask in the presence of my amazing dragon body. To make them fall gladly in prostration and worship.

Seriously. Seriously?

Am I doing this to myself, or what?

I shake my dragon head. I might as well go fight. I don't need to be in the battle myself, but lazing around means my hoard is expanding slower. Which means I do, in fact, need to be in the battle myself.

Rah. I've solved a conundrum.

I begin to stand. A few Mana Crystals slide away from my dragon feet.

*shrup*

Feet which are fully covered by what I thought was black armor. Now I'm not so sure. I briefly recall what Aitos had hypothesized about my Parasite form 'eating' my dragon body.

An engineered gem that didn't originally exist in this world clanks against my toe claw. A rare mineral ingot glints and exudes electromagnetism as I step on it.

*tklit*

*geen*

I immediately get distracted by my shining wealth.

Rah, yes! These beauties.

I've got the best of the best piled up here. Plus, I didn't take these from anyone, nor excavate them from the ground. I made 'em all with my own Mana. It's the hoard I'm most proud of; the one I most adore.

It may seem silly to manufacture treasures from pure Mana and then sit atop them, but this all represents what I've accomplished. It symbolizes a small fraction of my total holdings. Showing my immense wealth like this makes ME the greatest treasure perched atop my pile of valuables.

Hr.

Indeed, I've perched my throne atop this pile of treasure... But my other hoards; my intellect, my people, my power— they also demand more.

Nay, they ALL require my immediate attention!

I MUST add to them ALL with due haste.

Due haste is ALL possible haste!

Again, as if to welcome my acceptance, my instincts pull at my mind far harder. I feel shockingly motivated to go do everything possible to expand my hoard— all at once.

I shake my dragon head.

Except, my forked tongue flops out of my maw.

I'm feeling less and less inclined to resist my instincts, but I'm not willing to give in entirely.

Not yet, but.

I start drooling. Saliva pours from my maw as though I hunger for more. I feel excitement rise up within my chest.

I DO hunger for more! It's not actual hunger, but—

My resistance continues crumbling. As I stand, I realize my actions are giving into my draconic instincts. Even if my mind isn't accepting, my body is telling me what I am.

What I want.

What I should do.

Ragh. What I MUST do.

I lick my sopping wet maw, trying to contain myself, but it just makes my draconic desires intensify. As though I'm licking my chops before a delicious meal. I drool even more. My draconic instincts pull at my mind yet harder again. I begin to feel a physical force, like my own Demigod aura is trying to encourage me to move.

Wait, that IS my aura. I have an aura? I do. Apparently, Demigod auras are a thing.

It's not a compulsion, but, my very hesitance is fueling my desire to kick aside my inhibition.

No. Is that a compulsion? I'm not sure.

It shouldn't be. It shouldn't.

Which is because...

I can't find a reason why I shouldn't accept myself. Why in the world would I not embrace my draconic instincts? I've become so incredible by following them.

My instincts ratchet up to an absurd degree.

Why am I NOT going?! Learn more! Capture more! Eat more! Get stronger! GO! GO! GO!

I feel wetness pour down my front side from my maw.

Another feeling I didn't expect. It's not like before either; its more like I'm being coated by a sticky liquid. Weirdly, that liquid is ramping up my already insatiable drive. How motivated can a dragon get? My mind is falling apart.

*chglorp*

My triangle-slitted red eyes widen. I look down.

Reah, the goop is pouring out of my maw like a damn river.

I use my roughly spiked right arm to wipe my drooly maw and chest.

*shhhhlup*

I've totally covered my front with a thick layer of my own saliva.

Eww! This is so gross!

I shake my arm to get it off, but it sticks just fine. I decide to ignore it because I realize my... 'Armor' is breaking it apart. The sticky goo is vanishing on its own.

Somehow.

Rokay. Alright!

Calm the heck down.

The cravings I feel, lessen.

Rah, yres. It is just an instinct.

If my brain weren't able to make rational decisions, it'd definitely be a compulsion. Compulsions steal one's rationality, while instincts provide an emotional reward for— well, being a proper dragon in my case.

I know what I should be doing; sitting here and thinking things through. That's not going to change no matter how hard I'm pushed. Until my mind's made up, not even craving conquest is going to move me from this spot.

Especially not if my instincts are going to make me salivate at whatever I might Devour later. My talents seem to revolve around eating, and now my instincts as well. Even though it's not actual hunger, it's somehow behaving no differently. So, whatever that emotion is, it's definitely the emotion I need to curb most. Uncontrolled emotions can turn into a compulsion before you know it, and by that point it's already too late.

I don't know why it's so strong, though. My whole mind is fighting itself like an emotional battlefield. If this is just my draconic instincts, then why are they so overpowering? I'm not a mixed descendant of the Dragon God anymore.

I freeze in front of my enviable draconic throne, standing atop of my beautiful pile of treasures.

Wait. My name.

Status, Name.

Name: Chronometric Dragon God

You are Π||¿

Rank: Demigod

That's correct. I'm not a mixed descendant of the Dragon God. No, I'm Π||, the Origin. Autogenous Scion made me the highest of my bloodline. And I've inadvertently named myself 'Chronometric Dragon God.' Chronometric refers to the measure of time. All of this means that I'm a 'Time Dragon' and a self-proclaimed God. God of Time and Dragons.

Doesn't this make me the God and Origin of all dragons throughout all of time? That's not an arrogant declaration, reah? It's literally my name. Even if I'm not, if time travel is possible, then what if I make my declaration into reality?

I definitely could.

I growl in a pleased way.

"Rrrmmmmm."

Why... Why do I feel so satisfied?

No, I get it. That's how I should feel.

My instincts ratchet way, way up. They go beyond mere physical force and bodily urges. They start slinking into my Will; my Origin. I'm hammered by an intense desire to roar; to PROCLAIM MY EXISTENCE! Right here and NOW! Anything which falls in my wake shall become yet another part of my endlessly grander form!

My eyeballs are shaking in their sockets. My brain struggles to decide how it wants to act.

Even so, I continue to suppress my draconic instincts. My mind continues fighting itself as I stand here, but one side is slowly winning. It's pushing harder and overpowering everything— as a dragon should.

Hraw. That seals it.

My instincts are growing stronger whenever I accept my Origin. Which infers, I really am the Origin of all dragons. I'm the purest, most powerful dragon, and therefore the source of draconic instinct itself.

It's not going to go away. It's going to get far, far more invasive, until it completely takes over.

But.

Should I care? I personally decided this outcome through my own choices and actions.

Even now, as the last of my reservations erode away, I don't feel a 'lick' of dread.

I toothily grin at my pun, then lick my dragon maw. Intentionally. This time, I allow myself to enjoy the unusual sensation of my oversized, weirdly strong, forked dragon tongue running across my heavily-armored maw.

I start drooling, but I allow this as well. It's not so extreme like before, because now I'm fully in control. My instincts are merely rewarding me for feeling exactly how I'm supposed to feel.

The way I need to feel: like a dragon.

I've decided.

The name I chose— is the name I wanted.

I'm resisting my urges because I fear change.

Except, it's a change I personally picked.

I ＡＭ the Chronometric Dragon God!

A massive wave of draconic instinct floods throughout my Will and body. I fully, knowingly, chew through my fears and doubts. My worries and concerns flee helplessly as my unstoppable draconic desires take over. My every errant scruple trembles in silence where it belongs:

Beneath my metaphorical claws.

Rh, this is my true self.

"Rahrw! Rarwh."

I roll my dragon head. My blazing red eyes stop shaking and focus sharply on what lies ahead.

All of the future and perhaps the past; it awaits my conquest.

My whole being yearns for more intellect. For more wealth. For more power. For more GLORY!

I notice that increasing my own intellect has remained my most important instinct. It's driving me more than any other. In fact, my desire to improve my intellectual hoard is pushing me harder than it ever has in the past. Which is likely because my inability to decide this quickly has made me feel like my intellect is inferior to my physical strength.

Inferior?! Hraw! How DARE I not improve my brain?!

Hr, reah. I need so much more knowledge.

So much more!

Because that's who I am.

I'mma dragon.

"RAWR!"