Dracorage Mythal

Cassius narrowed his eyes, linking his consciousness to the dragon eye. At once, a vision appeared before him: a white dragon's head lunged from the void, blasting Frost Breath. "To the left." Anticipating the attack, he breathed fire in that direction and swept his claws, conjuring a shimmering, claw-shaped force field. The moment the white dragon's head poked out, it was scorched black by the wash of flames, immediately followed by the Scratch spell gouging three deep gashes across its flesh, sending blood flying. Snapping his wings, the red dragon pounced like a phantom to seize its true body, but the abomination dissolved back into the void, leaving him clutching empty air. Vagnerd's disembodied voice echoed through the tower. "Red dragon, do you know why I call myself the Dragon-Mad Black Wizard?" Cassius offered no pointless reply. He was channeling his body's energy into his lungs, preparing an all-out breath attack to kill Vagnerd in a single blow the next time he showed himself. Receiving no response, Vagnerd was not angered, merely answering his own question. His voice drifted unpredictably, making it impossible for Cassius to pinpoint his location by sound. "I once succumbed to fate, giving up any desire to resist, wanting nothing more than to eke out a meager safety beneath the shadow of dragons. Haha, what a... joke. "But... the red dragon we served suddenly went mad! He unleashed his flames, slaughtered everyone performing the ritual for the Cult of the Dragon, and swallowed Catherine whole right before my eyes! I only managed to survive by relying on magic. "After escaping that nightmare, I scoured the world madly for ancient lore, journeying even to ruins thousands of years old. And at last, from a tome dating back to the previous era, I discovered... the so-called Dracorage Mythal." Cassius's expression froze in shock. The Dracorage Mythal. That was the very thing that, in his inherited memories, had ended the reign of dragons. Tens of thousands of years ago, before the reign of the giants and the wars with the elves, dragons had ruled all lesser races at their whim. The elves were particularly resentful of draconic enslavement and sought a way to cast off their oppression. After years of secret research in the frozen north and debates over its cost and peril, the elves wove the Dracorage Mythal—a permanent masterpiece of Elven High Magic and one of their mightiest spells. The Dracorage Mythal drove all dragons reckless and feral, rampaging across their own lands, butchering their offspring and servants, leaving only ruin in their wake. This was a critical reason why the reign of dragons had come to an end. This "Dracorage" erupted every few decades or centuries, seemingly tied to the power of the King-Killer Star in the celestial sphere. "You dare wield such forbidden power! Are you not afraid of the dragon gods' wrath?!" The red dragon gritted his teeth. The situation had spiraled out of control. With a divine-tier spell like the Dracorage Mythal, even the slightest brush with it would end disastrously for him. He also finally understood why Vagnerd was so deranged. Delving into such forbidden power, retaining any shred of sanity was already a stroke of luck. Yet Vagnerd's voice droned on. "You are afraid, Cassius. Heh, to begin everything with a red dragon and end everything with a red dragon—it makes for a rather fitting conclusion. "Dragons: greedy, indolent beasts, blessed from birth with unfathomable might. Fangs and claws that easily tear mortals to shreds, fiery breath that effortlessly razes cities, and even inscrutable spellcasting abilities. "All the more so for you, favored of Tiamat, red dragon. I have watched you ever since you were a wyrmling. With my own eyes, I witnessed you grow into the colossus you are today in a mere decade. Even I cannot identify some of the tricks you possess. "But... why should it be this way?!" His voice abruptly jumped an octave, turning impassioned. "Why do you get to dictate my fate at your whim?! "Why should I willingly become your slave, simply because I was abducted into the Cult of the Dragon?! "Everyone calls me mad, but I know I am sane! I poured a century of blood and sweat into this, not hesitating to sacrifice my own flesh-and-blood daughter, all so I could rival you—nay, surpass you, and become an existence greater than even the dragon gods!" In the end, Vagnerd's voice devolved into maniacal laughter, layered with draconic roars and countless agonized wails. Violent mana fluctuations shook the floor. Across the thirty levels of the Tower of Polar Night, monster roars erupted in unison. Their blood, rich with dragon bloodlines, and their grotesque limbs were transported upward by invisible force fields, ultimately coalescing into the monster lurking in the void. Accompanied by a deafening rumble, the tower's spire burst open like a blooming flower, revealing the boundless, pitch-black night sky. This was Vagnerd's ninth-circle spell— Phantom of the King-Killer Star. A red comet resembling a malevolent eye emerged against the dark expanse—the phantom of the King-Killer Star. As if answering Vagnerd's summons, it grew increasingly solid, faintly pulsing with crimson light, as though gazing down in contempt upon the dragons of the world. Vagnerd had invoked merely a ten-thousandth of the Dracorage Mythal's power, yet it exerted immense pressure on Cassius. At this moment, the top of the tower resembled an altar. Beneath the moonlight, the monstrosity finally revealed its true form. No longer in its previous guise, it had integrated the limbs of even more draconic abominations. Five white dragon heads crowned its apex; hundreds of limbs jutted out; six pairs of wings flanked its sides to support the gargantuan body; and twelve long, slender tails of varying shapes stretched out like vines. Vagnerd's human head was embedded in its chest, bestowing an unsettling sense of harmony upon the grotesque amalgam. The five-headed dragon beast had merely been a failed prototype; this was his ultimate experiment—himself. A twisted chimera crafted in the image of Tiamat, born of a century's toil, fed by countless lives—including five genuine white dragons—and forged by the harnessed might of the entire Tower of Polar Night. "What a pity. With that white dragon, I would have had six heads, surpassing Tiamat herself. "No matter. Now... there is you." The dragon heads and the human head spoke in unison, their layered voices resounding once more. Six pairs of eyes stared directly at Cassius, burning with boundless fanaticism, veiled in a faint crimson haze. "Plunge into the Dracorage with me!" Sanity rapidly drained from those eyes, leaving only a feral desire to destroy everything else. "Roar—" The dragon heads unleashed a mad roar in unison. Cassius averted his gaze as much as possible, trying not to look at the pulsing, solidifying red star in the night sky. Yet that violent power, spanning tens of thousands of years, inevitably gnawed at his mind, making him reckless and irritable. He poured all his effort into erecting mental bulwarks, fighting to preserve his sanity. *The spell is not yet complete. Once that phantom fully manifests, even I might fall into the Dracorage. I must completely destroy Vagnerd before it finishes.* *And during this time...* *I cannot afford to suffer a single injury.* According to his inherited memories, under the influence of the Dracorage, if a dragon took damage in combat, it would succumb completely to violent madness, clawing and biting frantically until either it or its foe lay dead. At that thought, Cassius beat his wings and surged high into the air, looking down upon the colossal abomination occupying most of the tower summit.