The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Desmond's gaze softened as he beheld the creature before him, his relief palpable.

"Fortunately, it's not what I expected," Desmond remarked, his voice laced with a newfound sense of assurance. He studied the dragon before him, standing tall and unwavering, devoid of fear or hesitation.

The creature that stood before him was a dragon, albeit in a miniature form, reminiscent of the dragons before they absorbed the material that could fit within a closed fist. Despite its diminutive stature, it possessed all the defining features of a dragon, its obsidian scales glistening with an onyx sheen. Its eyes mirrored Desmond's own magenta hue, while its horns emitted ethereal blue flames.

Desmond maintained his composure, a silent observer of the extraordinary sight. Although he harbored a desire to capture and keep this magnificent being, he understood the inherent power it wielded, enough to extinguish him before his existence even began.

Suddenly, the expressionless creature turned around, its gaze locking onto Desmond. Its eyes reflected a joyous gleam, akin to a child finding its long-lost parents.

Rather than embracing the happiness that this sight should have evoked, Desmond's senses heightened, his wariness growing. Thoughts of the sound system invaded his mind.

[System Conclusion: Congratulations, Host. The first stage of this experiment, 'purity,' has been successful. Please channel the energy to the formed object.]

Perplexed, Desmond heard the system's words and felt his confusion intensify. Object? Wasn't this a living being? Had the system misidentified the dragon before him?

He triggered a system scan, seeking answers.

[Scanning the target...]

[Scan complete!]

[Name: Manifestation of Dragon Blood

Grade: ???

Information: This dragon is formed through the amalgamation of various materials. It possesses dragon blood with a purity level of 80%, making it akin to a close relative of a true dragon.

System Conclusion: This object poses no harm to the host. However, the host will bear the consequences upon acquiring the blood.]

"I see. So that's why the system refers to it as an object," Desmond murmured, a glimmer of understanding dawning within him. While uncertain if the entity before him possessed consciousness as a living being or if it was a conscious object, he found himself gradually placing trust in the system's assurances.

"Come at me!" Desmond exclaimed, channeling all his energy into the 'object' before him, simultaneously preparing to cast a healing spell. Although his healing abilities paled in comparison to Elizabeth's, they offered solace in alleviating the impending pain he was about to endure.

The dragon, elated by Desmond's words, bounded towards him with evident joy.

Desmond braced himself for the anticipated pain, but what transpired next caught him completely off guard. His mouth involuntarily opened, and the dragon swiftly darted inside, causing him to cough uncontrollably.

Cough, cough.

Each cough sent ripples of discomfort coursing through Desmond's pale face. Memories of the demon's tragic demise and the dragon's insatiable thirst for a small lake's worth of blood flooded his mind.

"This is bad! Get out of my body!" Desmond's desperation mounted as he jammed his middle finger down his throat, triggering multiple bouts of retching.

Yet, with each vomit, the dragon remained firmly entrenched within him, seeming to gradually drain his life force.

"Argh, this is futile..." Desmond grunted in frustration. To his dismay, not only was the dragon not expelled, but his consciousness also began to be drawn into its relentless grasp. A flicker of recognition ignited within him. "I know this sensation. It's the same as the first time I arrived in this world." Desmond realized as the encroaching darkness threatened to consume him.

As Desmond's consciousness faded, his body crumpled on the underground floor, contorted in agony. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, locked in an eternal struggle against indescribable pain. A faint shadow resembling a red and black dragon emanated from his prone form.

Meanwhile, within Desmond's fading consciousness, he sensed his very essence being absorbed by the dragon. The workings of his mind reluctantly acquiesced, and he succumbed to unconsciousness.

When Desmond eventually regained awareness, he found himself immersed in an unfamiliar forest. "Eh? What is this?" he murmured in confusion.

The forest exuded an unsettling aura, its towering trees surpassing the normal bounds of nature, while towering weeds reached adult height.

The sheer height of the trees obstructed direct sunlight, with only faint beams filtering through the sparse gaps in the dense foliage. It was as if the tree canopy intentionally denied easy passage to light.

Desmond, still grappling with his reawakening, attempted to move his body, only to discover that he was immobilized. However, his vision seemed to possess a panoramic, 360-degree scope.

"Could this be a dream?" he pondered, contemplating pinching his cheeks for confirmation. Yet, his body refused to heed his command.

Suddenly, Desmond's perspective shifted, and he found himself in a vast meadow. The ensuing roar resonated deep within him, instantly recognizable. He yearned to control his vocal cords, but it felt as if someone else was commanding the sound on his behalf.

stamp * * stamp * * stamp *

Desmond sensed a peculiar propulsion, as if his "body" was in motion. When he peered down, he was confronted with the sight of four legs beneath him.

"What the fuck?!" Desmond blurted out, astonished to discover that none of his four limbs resembled those of a human. The front legs bore a semblance to hands, albeit with elongated digits adorned with scales and wrinkles.

Desmond could hazard a guess as to the creature that had seized control of his being, but uncertainty lingered.

His attention then shifted to his hind legs, which exhibited the same scales and wrinkles. However, their length surpassed that of a human foot twofold.

Simultaneously, Desmond experienced the sensation of his steps resonating with the ground before him, as if it were his very body.

He was trapped, a vessel usurped by an enigmatic entity. What fate awaited him now?

Desmond's speculations were partially accurate, hovering around the 50% mark, yet he yearned for an opportune moment to witness the full form of the creature that had taken possession of him. Nevertheless, his curiosity extended to the lives of the other denizens within the forest.

squeak ** squeak *

As he trudged through the towering grass, his "body" remained unperturbed, but an earsplitting screech assailed his senses, sending jolts of agony through his teeth.

"Stop it... Stop it..." Desmond pleaded in vain. The repeated command morphed into a tangible reality within his mind, and the pain intensified, as if his teeth were being ruthlessly yanked out.

"Damn it... cease..." he muttered, the torment unraveling.

burble * burble *

Just as Desmond teetered on the brink of collapse, overwhelmed by unbearable torture, the sound of water reached his ears. He forced his eyes open, scouring the surroundings for the origin of the symphony, and there it was—a vast river lay before him.

The water flowed with crystalline clarity, its inception marked by a majestic waterfall, while at the river's terminus, a swirling abyss devoured its contents.

"Huff... that was a close call," Desmond mused. "If I were in my true form, my visage would have flushed crimson, akin to a ripe tomato, under the strain of such pain."

His gaze returned to his "body," which had successfully cleared a path through the meadow. Now, at last, he comprehended the source of his torment.

"Well... I'm not certain if it's the meadow or my transformed body causing this," Desmond pondered, attempting to decipher the enigma that enveloped him.

As Desmond pivoted around, dread seized him in its clutches.

The reflection cast upon the river's surface unveiled the true visage of his possessed form, confirming his suspicions.

A quadrupedal creature with colossal wings, its body armored in impenetrable scales that would render an ordinary sword futile. Two majestic horns adorned the creature's cranium, ablaze with fiery tongues dancing upon their tips.

The dragon loomed before him, its size akin to that of a cargo truck, possessed of fiery red eyes and obsidian skin, an embodiment of malevolence. Desmond found himself momentarily awestruck, compelled to marvel at the dragon's awe-inspiring appearance.

"This is indeed the miniature dragon from that room," Desmond murmured. "It seems that this is its true form. I must admit, this shape is undeniably impressive!"

While Desmond was enraptured by the dragon, his gaze shifted toward the fore. In an instant, a sensation of parchedness was replaced with the rush of cool, revitalizing water coursing through his throat. When he glanced downward, he beheld an elongated tongue protruding from the river, rhythmically lapping at the water's surface, the dragon's mouth serving as its destination.

Desmond couldn't help but question the reality before him. "Is this truly how a dragon drinks water?" he wondered, observing the dragon quench its thirst with canine-like laps, a sight that stirred a pang of compassion within his heart.

Once the dragon had sated its thirst, Desmond sensed his body being propelled forward.

Blast!

The world before him swayed, evoking a dizzying sensation. The disorienting motion continued unabated until Desmond grew accustomed to it.

He felt himself leaping to the right, surging forward, and ascending repeatedly, yet the purpose behind these actions eluded him.

Nonetheless, Desmond strained to survey his surroundings and discovered that the dragon's body was leaping incessantly. Each jump elicited a resounding impact as the dragon's tail collided with the river's surface, generating a colossal splash that sent water cascading in every direction.

Moreover, with each bound, the dragon unleashed shockwaves that reverberated throughout the vicinity, producing additional bursts of water.

Desmond was confounded by the spectacle unraveling before his eyes. Helpless, he could only await his fate with patience, devoid of any means to halt the dragon's actions.

Once Desmond sensed the dragon's cessation of movement, his gaze resumed its forward trajectory, retracing the path carved by the dragon's passage through the meadow.