Rebirth of the Ruined Noble

As Zale and Matsya stepped into the grand hall of the royal museum, the sight that unfolded before them was a battleground of chaos and desperation. The air crackled with the clash of swords and the echoes of spells, mingling with the anguished cries of both humans and monsters alike. The once-pristine hall now bore the scars of conflict, with shattered artifacts and smoldering debris littering the floor.

Amidst the mayhem, their eyes were drawn to the figure at the center of it all—

"Llyod Frontera!"

His once-handsome face was now contorted with exhaustion and determination, his body covered in a sheen of sweat. The young Archmage stood like a beacon of power amidst the chaos, his presence undeniable.

'8 star at the age of 27?'

Zale's heart pounded in his chest as he absorbed the gravity of the situation. At the tender age of 27, Llyod had shattered the boundaries of power, ascending to the prestigious 8-star level. The magnitude of his accomplishment left Zale trembling with a mixture of awe and trepidation. "What a monster," Zale thought, his mind grappling with the sheer magnitude of Llyod's strength.

For a moment, Zale's own accomplishments paled in comparison. As a former vice-commander of the royal army's 8th unit, he had prided himself on his talent, having reached the 7-star level at the age of 35. Yet, standing before Llyod, Zale felt a deep sense of humility.

'There will always be a sky above the sky.'

He thought seeing Llyod. The young Archmage had shattered the limits of what was deemed possible, proving that there were always greater heights to be reached.

Breakin through the 8-star Llyod had now become the youngest Archmage in the continent, if he were to survive today, then his potential would be more than anyone could ever imagine.

'It is better to get rid of him before he becomes any more of a threat.'

With a steel-like resolve, Zale took a step forward, ready to face Llyod head-on. But before he could proceed, Matsya's spear interjected, blocking his path. A twisted smile played upon her lips as she declared, "I will be playing with him."

'This…!'

Seeing her, Zale didn't know what to do.

Matsya was one of the seven leaders of the rebel army. In position she was higher than him but she was young. To be more specific, she was the youngest among the rebel leaders.

Just at the age of 29, she was already at the level of a 7-star knight. In a sense, she was also a monster who can be comparable to Llyod.

The thought of witnessing a clash between these two formidable forces enticed him, drawing him closer to the allure of the impending battle. However, Zale knew that time was not on their side, and indulging in personal desires could jeopardize their mission.

"This is not the time to be swayed by our desires," Zale asserted, his voice firm and commanding. He pushed past the spear, his eyes locking with Matsya. "We must focus on swiftly accomplishing our mission and ensuring our survival. Lives are at stake."

He reiterated the purpose of their infiltration into the royal museum, addressing the young individual who had acquired considerable power at such a tender age.

"Besides..." Zale's gaze shifted towards Lloyd, who was drenched in sweat and displaying clear signs of exhaustion. "He is a mage, drained from battling the monsters. I am more than capable of handling him," he stated, glancing back at Matsya.

He said looking abc to Matsya.

Matsya's dissatisfaction with his words was palpable, yet she remained silent. While she may have possessed greater physical strength than Zale, she lacked the wisdom necessary to make crucial decisions. It was precisely for this reason that Zale had been appointed as the mission leader over Matsya.

"You focus on what we came here to accomplish, and do it as swiftly as possible," Zale instructed Matsya, aware of the urgency that surrounded them. Though discontented with the decision, Matsya replied with a curt "Yes."

Zale turned to the men behind him, their expressions mirroring a mix of anxiety and determination. "Support her," he commanded, his voice carrying the weight of their shared purpose. "The sooner we complete our objective, the better our chances of survival."

With those final words, Zale pivoted on his heel, every step propelling him closer to the heart of the museum. The weight of the task before him intensified, the air thick with tension and uncertainty.

***

In the Mauryan Empire, there existed a legendary tale that resonated with every teenager. It was the story of a dragon slayer—a tale that captured the imaginations of young minds.

Dragons were the species which were akin to invincible beings, there was little chance of someone even witnessing a dragon in their life.

It was because the dragons didn't like to get involved in the matters of the mortal world. They lived alone, secluded, in the places that were far from the reach of mortals.

However, even among these reclusive creatures, there were exceptions.

Yet, amid the enigma of these awe-inspiring creatures, there were exceptions—dragons that defied convention. One such exemplar was Ugram, the fire dragon, entrusted to the Pendragon family. This majestic beast stood as a guardian, an unyielding sentinel, protecting the empire's rear from all threats.

But there was another, a figure that would etch its name into the annals of infamy—the malevolent dragon known as Byrve. The mere mention of its name sent shivers down the spines of those who had witnessed its wrath. Byrve, the epitome of evil. Humans bestowed upon it the title of "evil dragon" after witnessing its devastating rampage.

From the vast expanse of the heavens, the black dragon descended upon the unsuspecting empire, casting a pall of death and darkness upon the land. With each thunderous beat of its wings, despair followed, and the very essence of hope was devoured. Byrve, driven to madness, unleashed its fury, leaving behind a trail of desolation and despair..

In the face of such overwhelming malevolence, the newly crowned Emperor of the Mauryan Empire emerged as a beacon of unwavering resolve. He understood that this was no task for a single individual. The weight of the empire's fate rested upon his shoulders, and so he rallied the pillars of his realm.

United by a common purpose, the Heaven-Obliterating Overlord, the Grand Mage, and the Duke of Invincibility converged, their collective strength marshaled against the black dragon's rampage. A cataclysm ensued, the earth trembling beneath the ferocity of their clash. The empire bore witness to the indomitable spirit of its defenders, their determination as unyielding as the dragon's own resolve.

Their clash ravaged a significant portion of the Mauryan Empire, transforming it into a desolate desert now known as the Tomb of the Black Dragon. —an eternal testament to the battle that raged.

The confrontation seemed to stretch into eternity, the relentless onslaught of the dragon defying the limits of time. Yet, amidst the chaos, the emperor, with desperation etched upon his face, summoned every ounce of his strength. His blade, gleaming with destiny, found its mark—a resolute thrust that pierced the heart of Byrve, the embodiment of evil.

In that climactic moment, the rampage of the black dragon came crashing to an end, its malevolence extinguished by the unwavering will of a united empire. Peace descended upon the Mauryan Kingdom once more, like a beacon of hope emerging from the suffocating darkness.

This tale, shared by ancestors and passed down through generations, captivated the minds of all who heard it. Even when it is a mystery about how much of the tale was the truth and how much was exaggeration.

To the younger generation, it may have seemed like a distant legend, woven into the tapestry of their heritage. Yet, within the hallowed halls of the royal museum, evidence of its truth remained preserved—a relic that had withstood the test of time.

It was within these hallowed walls that Esmerald found herself, staring at a fist-sized object—an artifact that held the essence of the long-deceased evil dragon, Byrve.

As a rare smile graced her otherwise expressionless face, Esmerald whispered, "So this is the heart of the Evil Dragon."

The object which she was ordered to steal by the 'Master'. It was none other than the mana heart of the black dragon, Byrve, that had died centuries ago.

---***---

Daily Chapter Release~