Primordial Awakening: Rise of the Legendary Dragon God

The hall felt too large without laughter.

Everyone was there—gathered around the long table beneath the dim chandelier—yet the space felt hollow, like the house itself had noticed what was missing and was holding its breath.

Kael sat at the head, elbows resting on the table, fingers steepled. He hadn't gone to sleep. Not even close.

The shadows beneath his eyes were sharp, his expression closed off in a way none of them were used to seeing.

There were no dry remarks, no lazy smiles—only a dragon sitting very still, as if movement might crack something already strained.

Evethra stood close behind him, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder. She said nothing, but her presence was constant and grounding. Watching. Ready.

Alenia sat to Kael's right, posture composed, eyes scanning every face with quiet calculation.

Lyra and Selene were side by side, letters clutched in trembling hands.

Druvarn was also there, sitting in the corner of the room. Darian stood beside him, paper unfolded, throat tight.

He was reading for Druvarn because the bear never knew how to read or write.

Everyone's letters were open.

Lyra's was soaked.

Rue's handwriting danced across the page—messy, energetic, and unmistakably hers.

[Lyra! If you're reading this, you're probably crying. Don't deny it. You always do.]

Her shoulders shook, silent sobs wracking her frame as she pressed the paper to her chest.

Selene fared no better. Rina's letter was careful and precise, with every word weighed.

[You were always watching us. And although you thought that you were weak, you were always protecting us. I'm sorry we didn't say goodbye properly.]

Tears slid down Selene's cheeks, dripping onto the ink as her golden eyes blurred.

Across the room, Darian cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

"'Dear Druvarn,'" he said, his voice cracking immediately as if he could sense that every word in the letter, despite looking cheery, was filled with sadness.

"'We're sure you're getting help to read this because there's no way you learned how on your own.'"

Druvarn sniffed loudly.

"'Also, you're dumb,'" Darian continued, almost laughing through the ache. "'But you're our dumb bear, and you kept us safe when you didn't even have to.'"

The plush bear buried his face in his paws, shoulders trembling.

Kael stared down at his own letter.

The twins' writing was different here—older. Heavier.

[Words aren't enough to express the gratitude we have for you, big brother.

You were the one who helped us when we thought that we might never see light again, and since then, although the time was short, we felt like you were someone we were meant to be with.

Maybe we were actually close in some life.]

His jaw tightened.

[We love you, big brother.]

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.

For a while, everyone merely stared at the letter, still wondering if this was happening.

But as they failed to see the two girls who always jumped around at this time, they knew that this was the reality they had to face.

The silence, however, was soon broken by Lyra.

She slammed her hands on the table and stood, eyes blazing red through tears. "You aren't going to let them go like that, right?"

Kael looked up slowly.

"They're still kids," she said, her voice shaking. "I don't care what memories they unlocked. They're still Rue and Rina. They still ran through these halls. They still—"

Her voice broke. "They're ours."

Selene nodded weakly, wiping bloodless tears from her cheeks. "She's right."

Kael exhaled, sharp and controlled.

"I'm not sitting around," he said. His voice was flat—dangerously so. "I started searching the moment I realized."

He pushed back from the table and stood. The air shifted subtly around him.

"I traced their mana. I followed the trail to see where they had gone." His hand clenched. "It leads outside the village."

Everyone leaned in.

"And then it stops," Kael growled. "Because I erased everything beyond that point."

The room went still.

"If the surroundings weren't destroyed," he continued, teeth grinding, "I could've followed it further. Even through space if I had to. Because I'm sure they had used teleportation."

Regret bled into his tone, raw and unhidden.

"If only I hadn't destroyed—"

Evethra's hand tightened on his shoulder, making him pause, but his jaw remained clenched.

For a while, he remained silent, feeling the need to better his control over his own powers more than ever.

Then, he straightened, turning toward Selene.

"There's one way left," he said. "Look into their future. Not far. Seconds. Minutes. Anything."

Selene swallowed.

"I'll try."

She had been thinking of doing it anyway.

Golden light bloomed around her body, soft at first—familiar.

Her eyes were unfocused.

For half a heartbeat, hope stirred, as this is what happened whenever Selene was able to use her ability to look into the future.

However, that hope soon turned into terror as Selene screamed.

Her body jerked violently, limbs spasming as the golden light shattered into jagged arcs. The air screamed with her.

"Selene!" Lyra cried.

Kael was behind her instantly, arms catching her as green light flooded from his hands, healing mana pouring into her like a tide.

But the gold didn't recede.

It cracked through the green like lightning through glass.

Kael froze.

"…Time backlash," he whispered.

This always happened whenever Selene tried to look into any future related to him; only the reaction had always been weaker.

And above all, he was sure that whatever she was seeing wasn't related to him.

The pressure slammed into Selene again, invisible and merciless.

Kael gritted his teeth, forcing more power through her—but it was useless.

This wasn't something he could overpower.

Someone was shielding the twins.

Someone stronger than him.

All he could do was wait, and soon, the backlash snapped—and Selene collapsed.

The golden light vanished.

Selene coughed violently, blood splattering the floor as it streamed from her eyes.

Lyra screamed her name as she fell toward the ground.

But Kael caught Selene before that, his hands shaking as he held her.

The room was silent.

Kael stared down at the blood on his hands, his head going on with so many thoughts that he couldn't even understand them.

But one thing he knew was that he was weak.

Unlike what he had thought when he first opened his eyes, he wasn't the strongest.

From this incident and how Rue and Rina ran away, he was sure that there were people way stronger than him in this world.

And honestly, realizing this wasn't something he liked—not in the least.

Especially because he still didn't know how he could grow stronger.

But then, a line from the letter Rue and Rina had left for him flashed through his head.

[We are not sure, big brother. But we think we think you are one of those types who grow stronger by devouring.

The stronger beings you eat, the more you grow.]

They hadn't said anything with certainty, but Kael knew that this was the only conclusion that seemed plausible.

.........................

Meanwhile, the town exhaled in fragments.

Doors creaked open, then shut again. Lamps were lit, snuffed, and lit once more.

People spoke in low voices as they drifted back toward their homes, eyes still flicking to the darkened sky above, as if afraid the heavens might remember what had almost happened and try again.

Children were pulled close. Elders leaned on canes a little harder than usual. No one laughed.

Not tonight.

The incident clung to the air—unseen but heavy—like heat trapped beneath ash.

Vaelen walked among them with his hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders hunched.

He didn't know where he was supposed to go. Didn't know if he was allowed to go anywhere at all.

Prisoner.

Guest.

Something in between.

He snorted softly. 'Figures.'

Running away never even crossed his mind.

First, because the idea of making Kael his enemy felt like volunteering for a short and extremely painful life.

Second, because—annoyingly—this place was better than where he'd come from. Safer. Stranger. Above all, the mana density here was way too high.

And third—

Vaelen glanced toward the shimmering barrier at the edge of the village, where the heat beyond warped the air like a living thing.

Yeah. No, thanks.

He kicked a pebble along the road, frowning. "So what now…?"

That was when the space behind him rippled.

Not shimmered.

Rippled.

Like water struck by a stone.

Vaelen froze.

The air twisted, folded inward, and then tore open with a sound like fabric being ripped apart.

Light spilled out—cold, sharp, and controlled.

Two figures stepped through.

The first was tall, broad-shouldered, and clad in immaculate armor that carried the weight of authority without ornament.

His presence alone made the air feel heavier, as if the world instinctively straightened its spine.

It was Marquess Aldric Baneron.

Knight. Swordsmaster. S-rank.

Vaelen's father.

Behind him emerged a thinner man in dark and formal robes, his posture perfectly straight and his eyes already glowing faintly with residual mana.

Marthis.

Butler. Mage. Also S-rank. Because, of course, he was.

They had barely finished materializing when the street went silent.

Heads turned.

Eyes widened.

The sudden arrival—two unknown figures appearing from nothing—sent a ripple of alarm through the villagers faster than sound ever could.

"Formation!" Someone shouted.

Steel rang as guards moved, weapons raised, boots pounding stone as they formed a loose circle around the newcomers.

Mana stirred. Tension snapped tight as a bowstring.

Vaelen stared.

Then, very quietly, very sincerely, he muttered—

"Oh, shit."

Aldric's gaze swept the street, taking in the armed guards, the fearful villagers, and the scorched ground.

Then it locked onto Vaelen.

Relief flashed across his stern face—brief, controlled, but unmistakable.

"There you are," Aldric said, voice calm and powerful enough to carry.

Vaelen lifted a hand weakly. "Uh. Hi, Father."

Marthis adjusted his gloves, eyes narrowing slightly. "Marquess," he murmured, "we may have arrived at an… inconvenient moment."

Around them, weapons didn't lower.

The town, already wounded and on edge, watched two strangers who had torn open space itself—

And waited to see whether tonight's disaster was truly over.