Reincarnated As A Dragon With A Godly Inheritance

Taria found herself in her old house when she was still twelve, days before her father disappeared. Before the Holy Church took him.

"When is father returning? It's getting late." Twelve-year-old Taria whined.

Her mother was a slim woman, and it was from her she took her brown hair and grey eyes. Her father had given her a strong body instead.

"Hush! Your father has serious work for the Holy Church and I'm happy that he doesn't have to hunt Dragons again, but now he works directly with the Church!" Her mother began setting the table. Their house was small but it was warm, it kept the cold away and they could fill their bellies thanks to her father who worked as a Hunter.

But due to her mother's constant fear for him and the fact that he wasn't a powerful hunter, her father had been searching for another job, which was easier said than done.

Surprisingly, the Holy Church had reached out saying they wanted people to help with their experiments. Nothing harmful, just to test the final products of potions. The pay was good—so good that the family could now cook a proper meal.

"But it's good to be a hunter, you protect people!" Taria stole a spoon and waved it around, making a chopping motion. "They kill Dragons and level up!"

"Bring that spoon, you rat! You know I don't like the thought of you being a hunter. You have to get a maid class or a Chef from the system and position yourself to serve one of the nobles." Her mother smiled tightly at her.

Taria sighed and looked up at her mother. "I'll get a warrior class, just like father! They say the system responds to your will, but not everyone will be a powerful warrior. Father wasn't, but I will!"

Her mother opened her mouth, but her father's voice had them both turning. "Even my daughter is calling me weak now! This is not how it should be!"

He dropped the package in his hands and feigned hurt, touching his chest.

Taria ran to him and hugged him, drawing in his scent that meant strength and safety, a warmth that no fire could replace. "Don't worry, I'll be stronger than you." She looked up at him solemnly at first, but she couldn't hold it for long and grinned.

Her father, for his part, faked his hurt very well and said with all solemnity, "Of course. You'll be one of those with high Grades, you'll be famous throughout Havenbrook and our region in the Kingdom! Maybe you'll get the chance to serve as a Knight for our King."

"You spoil her too much," her mother said as she came forward for a kiss. "Don't plant silly fantasies in her head. You know she'll not get the warrior class and even if she did, it'll be a very weak one."

Taria promised she wouldn't get a weak one and since she was twelve now, they would be going for her choosing soon. They had their dinner then. It was a good night, one of the best days. The last of her good nights.

Because her father didn't come home the next day, or the day after. Taria and her mother would stay outside looking into the night with a light, but he didn't return.

The house's warmth turned stifling then.

He came home on the third day, a bloody shell of his former self. He was covered in wounds and blood, the warmth drained from his face, replaced with cold horror.

They couldn't get him to talk. Their joy that he returned was slowly replaced by dread as he kept repeating: "They want to rip it out of me! They want to! Blood! Blood! Ability!"

It scared them. They were helpless, they didn't know what to do.

It didn't take long before they arrived. The Holy Church.

They surrounded her father, but it was the way they behaved toward him that surprised her—they were cautious in approaching him as if he was a dangerous beast.

And they were right, so right.

Immediately her father saw the Church he turned rigid with fear. He trembled, his eyes full of rage and panic. The Church's paladins surrounded him, but her father didn't let them get close.

He turned to Taria, and that was when she saw it for the first time. Yellow eyes. His brown eyes were replaced by yellow that shone with such hotness, such heat. Glowing so brightly it blinded.

The paladins shouted, but it was already too late. A flash of golden wings burst from his back, a flash of a spear and an explosion of golden light and heat blasted outward.

When it cleared, there was nothing left of her father or the house. Only the leader of the paladins, Taria, and her mother remained standing.

Her father was gone, taking the paladins with him. There was no blood or body parts. Everything else except them was simply gone.

The only surviving paladin looked at them, at his surroundings, and he was gone faster than his shadows.

They stayed like that for a while, and Taria raised her eyes to the room—and she was Taria again. The grown Taria. "I've forgotten," she whispered.

"I've almost forgotten what happened." Her cheeks were wet with tears. "Father... mother."

She turned but wasn't surprised not to see her mother there. If this was the past, then she remembered how she had quickly taken her stunned mother and dragged her into the slums where they could hide from the Church and its paladins.

She remembered how her love for her mother had slowly turned into hatred in the years that followed.

Her mother was the cause of it all. She was the one that made her father work for the Celestial Order. And maybe her mother hated herself for it too, because she made Taria promise she wouldn't join the hunters.

It broke her mother though—her father's death... disappearance—and she wasted away after that. Her death wasn't surprising either.

Taria sighed and said bitterly out loud, "Is this the trial? To torture me with memories?"

The woman smiled and changed features, ripping away her disguise. She turned into the woman who had healed him in room eight. "Your memories are... hard to access."

"So you tried to imitate the Dragon King? My mother?" Kaedros raised his brows. He could remember now—that he was still in the trial.

The woman shrugged. "What gave me away?"

Kaedros sighed. "I can count how many times she talked with me about anything."

"You are a Dragon..." she frowned at him. "But you are not from Highworld."

"Why should I be in Highworld?" Kaedros asked. The Dragons' history was as cut off as the humans on Earth. Everything began two hundred years ago. Anything before that was lost.

"There... is a Great Clan in Highworld that made an experiment long ago to create effective loyal soldiers, but they made them a little too close in their image—psychologically wise. They share a very common trait: hunger for power." The woman continued to look at him.

Kaedros's smile was a flash, and he wished he could show his fangs. "Then they failed to make loyal soldiers."

"Devils. They are one of the ruling powers in Aetheria."

Kaedros raised his hand and frowned. He didn't get it. "Why are you telling me this?"

The woman laughed. "Because you have an interesting Bloodline. Very interesting indeed."

Kaedros turned from her and faced the city instead. It was such a large city, sprawling for miles. The Dragon City. The Floating City.

If what this woman said was true, that meant there might be another Dragon kingdom somewhere in Aetheria—and the Devils... He sighed again. He would put this from his mind and focus on getting the necessary power first.

Then he would turn his sight on human affairs, especially trying to sniff out Collector. Then, only then, would he entertain the idea of Dragon City.

"Send me to the last room."

"First... tell me, why do you want power?" A door appeared beside him.

Kaedros looked at her and answered without hesitation. "Because I want it. Everything else comes secondary."

Then he stepped through. His vision spun, blue light danced in his eyes, then he felt a solid stone beneath his feet. Slowly he opened his eyes.

Kaedros was in a room made of spun light. The floor wasn't stone—it was made of solid light, and all around him was the same: walls and pillars made of glittering light.

In front was a ritual-like table, and sitting on it was the woman who had just opened the door for him. She spun what he assumed to be the Aetheria Crown on her finger.

The crown was an ugly thing, made of white bleached bone, the outside curling with small thorns. There was nothing special about it—it looked like any other piece of jewelry. He felt no power from it.

"And here I thought I was finally rid of you." Kaedros slowly made his way toward the woman.

The woman laughed. "I am one of the three guardians of the trial. The challenge room was made by the three of us."

Kaedros got close so that he could see how much her eyes glittered with purple light. "What now?"

She held the crown up. "Just some tips on how to handle the crown. And oh... this is the Eldritch leader crown. Not that you were expecting anything else."

Kaedros didn't reply because they both knew he had been expecting to try the Eldritch leader crown.

"The Crown will be like a second core, but this one will be above your heart. Literally. Of course, you can't use it like a second core since what it was made for was calling Incarnatio of Aetheria."

"If it's to call Incarnatio... shouldn't we know what Incarnatio it will call? Since a lot of past Eldritch must have used it."

The woman gave him a look. "You truly are clueless. Each time the Crown is worn, different Incarnations are called. And how powerful the Incarnation will be depends on how successful you are in linking the Crown with your soul."

The woman's smile was quick and sharp, her fangs like a blade's edge. "I'll advise you to call a powerful Incarnation—or you will regret it. Weak Eldritch leaders even died quicker than any other Eldritch."

"Why do Eldritch die? Aren't they protectors?" Kaedros asked. He knew what Thalso had told him about how times had changed.

"Why don't you ask Thalso if you see him?" She pointed a clawed finger at him. "Now to complete my mandatory 'tip.' Think of the Incarnation of Aetheria as a climb toward the top of a mountain. The more you walk, the closer you get to the peak."

"Right now you will gain nothing from the power of the Crown. You should advance to ArchKnight before you start seeing its strength. Its power won't come all at once—you are to grow with it. Advance as it does."

"Now try it, and let's see if your soul can take the power." She held it out for him, but Kaedros took a step back.

He suddenly felt lightheaded, and his stomach filled with heat. "Wait... what is an Awakened Eldritch?" he asked, just to buy time.

"Ah... that is when you combine your core, your soul, and the crown. That is an Awakened Eldritch."

The Crown was presented to him again, and this time he had no choice but to take it. It was light, the inside smooth while the outside was rough with thorns.

Maybe the Crown was made from the bones of a bird because it was so brittle to touch, but something told him he wouldn't be able to snap it with his hands.

It was as if the woman could read his thoughts, because she snorted. "You think you will break it? Don't worry—it's made out of the bones of the world. Or is it worlds? The thing is, it's one of the strongest materials ever."

Bones of the worlds. Whatever that meant.

What mattered was that he was holding his life in his hand. Putting this on his head would determine whether he lived or not... Wait. Kaedros toyed with an idea that played on his mind. What would happen if he refused now? After passing all the rooms?

He looked at the woman, a small smile on her mouth. Her sharp eyes never left him. Kaedros decided not to ask.

He took a deep breath and didn't exhale before he wore the Crown of Aetheria.