Ryan's Last Emperor

Price Ryan walked slowly down the deep, shadowy corridor. This was the passage leading to the imperial treasury—the only passage. Beneath almost every step lay intricate mechanisms and magical traps. One had to possess the Ryan royal bloodline to pass safely, and one also had to memorize the complicated sequence of steps. This was not Price Ryan's first time going to the imperial treasury, but it was the first time he had entered without permission. The first time he had come here was just after his sixteenth birthday, when he and several other heirs arrived together to resonate with the Dragon Tyrant Armament. Price Ryan still remembered an unlucky wretch back then who misremembered the footwork, his entire body melting into flesh and blood that seeped down into the steps. Step by cautious step; not a single misstep was permitted. Price Ryan finally reached the front of the treasury. Only a handful of treasures rested within this massive treasury, and the Dragon Tyrant Armament stood at its very center. It was a suit of armor, silvery-white from top to bottom. It looked so ordinary it lacked even decorative etchings, yet on closer inspection, numerous fine scales flickered faintly in and out of view across its surface. This was the national artifact forged from the carcass of the Demonic Dragon Tyrant of old. Once donned, the Dragon Tyrant Armament would conceal itself automatically until its master invoked its power. Then, the suit of armor would allow its wielder to transform into a time dragon, commanding the formidable power over time itself. For seventeen hundred years, this Dragon Tyrant Armament had been kept here. In the history of Ryan, the occasions it had been deployed could be counted on one's fingers; even including the two most recent times, the total was fewer than ten. For Ryan was already powerful enough; there had simply been little need to call upon the Dragon Tyrant Armament. Through bars forged of layered mithral, Price Ryan gazed at the Dragon Tyrant Armament and asked softly, "Were you the one speaking to me?" A long moment passed without the mysterious voice answering. Price Ryan's brow furrowed tightly. Had everything before just been his own hallucination? Just as Price Ryan was bordering on despair, the mysterious voice sounded again. And this time, Price Ryan was certain the voice came from the Dragon Tyrant Armament. "Young man, have a little patience. If a mere few seconds are enough to drive you to despair, then you aren't qualified to be the Emperor of Ryan at all." Ripples of silver light began to glow across the Dragon Tyrant Armament. The dragon scales that had previously flickered in and out became vividly clear and continued to emerge, transforming the once-smooth surface into overlapping layers of dragon scales. Price Ryan asked agitatedly, "You are the Demonic Dragon Tyrant! Why are you helping me?!" "Why? What an interesting question. I once thought that if I ever woke up, I would slaughter every last descendant of Arthur Ryan. Vengeance, after all—a perfectly natural thing. Yet as you drenched me in blood over the years, my body was tainted by Arthur Ryan's bloodline. And it was because of your blood that a new soul was nurtured within this armor. "Little Price, I am no different from you now. Killing you would be killing myself." He knew the Demonic Dragon Tyrant was speaking the truth. Originally, he had only been able to make the Dragon Tyrant Armament glow; among the generations of Ryan Emperors, very few had ever truly awakened its power. The reason he had been able to wield the Dragon Tyrant Armament was that the old zombies underground had found a way to refine the Ryan bloodline. Using the power of this refined blood, they granted Price Ryan a state resembling that of their ancestor's bloodline, thereby allowing him to employ the Dragon Tyrant Armament. In essence, it had been a continuous drenching of the Dragon Tyrant Armament with the blood of the Ryan clan. Over the years, the two had long since merged into one, indistinguishable from each other. "You say you are a new soul," Price Ryan asked in confusion. "Are you or are you not the Demonic Dragon Tyrant?" "That question is meaningless, child. How do you define 'yes' or 'no'? By memory? By emotion? Or by the flesh and blood of the body? "I was born within this armor. From the flesh and blood, I inherited all the memories of that era. I can still feel the rage and malice when Arthur Ryan struck me down, and I command the power of the time dragon—yet I am tainted by Arthur Ryan's bloodline. "So tell me: am I who I was back then?" Price Ryan fell silent. The question was too profound for him to answer. Yet the other gave him his answer. "I am the past, and I am the present. I am the emperor of dragonkind, and I am a humiliated captive. I am Artross the Eternal. Do you understand now?" "If you truly inherited all those memories, what about your hatred?" Price Ryan asked warily. "Hatred?" A low laugh issued from the Dragon Tyrant Armament. "Hahaha! Little Price, the very first requirement of becoming a sovereign is casting aside such pointless love and hate. That was precisely why I lost back then. Child, do you know why Arthur Ryan overthrew the dragon dynasty?" Price Ryan thought for a moment, then said, "To liberate all humankind on the continent, so we would no longer be enslaved by dragons." "Correct, exactly so. Humankind did not want to be enslaved, just as the livestock you keep today do not want to be eaten by humans. Have you ever wondered: if one day all the pigs and cattle rebelled together, and among them arose a hero like Arthur Ryan, what would become of humankind?" Hearing this, Price Ryan's eyes went wide, and he blurted out, "That's not the same! That's not the same at all!" "Idiot, it is the same. I spent a lifetime uniting all of dragonkind; I was the hero of the dragons. In my eyes back then, dragons were the masters presiding over all other races, while humans and the rest were merely livestock we kept. "Later, though, I came to realize: who is livestock and who is a hero is decided solely by victory and defeat. "Arthur Ryan won back then. He severed my head, stripped my scales, and crafted this armor from my bones and blood, while my kin were driven across the sea. It wasn't because he was inherently righteous; it was simply that he was stronger than me. "I didn't understand that at the time, which is why I lost so miserably. I was a time dragon, a creature naturally peerless in strength, reigning supreme above all living beings. I never imagined a mere human could kill me. I was far too careless—I even treated their rebellion as a game, deliberately indulging those little bugs at the start. "Later, by the time I realized something was wrong, I could no longer turn defeat into victory. Now, you must understand this lesson as well: grasp absolute power, and never leave your opponents the slightest opening." Price Ryan took a deep breath and asked his final question: "Then why are you helping me?" "Because if I do not help you, the Ryan clan is finished, and I will remain sealed away here forever. Little Price, you will be the last Emperor of Ryan—and the eternal emperor!" Price Ryan clenched his fists and proclaimed loudly, "That's right! I will be Ryan's last emperor, its only emperor, its emperor forever!" The Dragon Tyrant Armament quivered, emitting an excited voice: "Hahaha, now that's more like it! Come, draw closer, and receive my power!"