In the vast expanse of this world, the mightiest beings were the Dragons. They were the epitome of adaptation, thriving in lands too harsh for humanity to dare venture. Among the rugged terrain of the Azerlisian Mountain Range, the Dragons reigned supreme, particularly the formidable Frost Dragons.
Unlike their brethren, Frost Dragons possessed sleek, serpentine bodies, reminiscent more of graceful felines than the lumbering forms of lizards. Their scales bore a striking bluish-white hue, reminiscent of the pristine snows that blanketed their domain. As they aged, their scales transitioned to the purest white, a testament to their mastery of their wintry environment.
With their natural affinity for cold, Frost Dragons were immune to its biting embrace, yet paradoxically vulnerable to the searing touch of fire. However, their most fearsome asset lay in their ability to unleash a freezing breath that could crystallize even the hardiest of foes.
At the pinnacle of this Draconic hierarchy stood Olasird'arc Haylilyal, the White Dragon Lord and ruler of the Quagoa that had long plagued the Dwarf Kingdom nestled within the Azerlisian Mountains. It was this formidable leader who now bellowed a command towards the confines of his castle: "It's me, open up."
He waited patiently, but there was no response from the other side of the door. It was inconceivable that his son was not present. The occupant of this room was a recluse, a hikikomori, who seldom ventured beyond its confines.
In fact, Olasird'arc could not recall a single instance of his son leaving his room. Even his meals were delivered by his siblings. The audacity of his son feigning absence in the presence of his own father, a Dragon Lord, was deeply irksome.
"I'll repeat myself. It's me. Open up," Olasird'arc demanded once more, his voice resonating with the authority befitting his status.
Dragons possessed incredibly acute senses, and the forcefulness of his shout should have roused even the deepest sleeper. Yet, the door remained obstinately closed. Anger surged within Olasird'arc, transforming into action. With a swift motion, he lashed out at the door with his tail, the impact reverberating through the chamber. The door, constructed by Dwarves who had likely never anticipated such force, groaned under the blow.
Signs of movement stirred within, but Olasird'arc's fury remained unabated. He struck the door once more, shattering it into splintered fragments. Stones flew into the room like shrapnel, accompanied by a startled cry from within.
"Get out of there, right now!" Olasird'arc's voice thundered with authority, prompting a reaction from within the room. A Frost Dragon emerged, but unlike the slender physique typical of its kind, this one appeared overweight. Perched precariously on its nose were tiny spectacles, and it regarded Olasird'arc with a nervous demeanour.
Though this was his son, the sight of his pitiful display left Olasird'arc sighing inwardly. It was understandable, perhaps, for one to tremble in the presence of a ruler such as himself, but he had hoped for more strength from his own blood. Furthermore, the Dragon's corpulent physique resembled that of a swine rather than a true Dragon.
As his son, Hejinmal, tentatively spoke up, Olasird'arc contemplated the situation. Though lacking in the physical prowess expected of a Dragon, Hejinmal still possessed the potential to grow stronger with age.
"I have a job for you, Hejinmal," Olasird'arc announced, his tone brooking no argument.
"A... a job?" Hejinmal stammered, clearly taken aback.
"Yes. The Son of the Dragon Emperor has extended an invitation for us to participate in a mass ritual to restore wild magic and undo the spell cast by his father," Olasird'arc explained.
Hejinmal's eyes widened with apprehension. "Hieee," he muttered nervously.
Ignoring his son's hesitance, Olasird'arc continued, "You will accompany me. Your time spent holed up in this room should have provided you with ample knowledge to assist in the ritual and remain vigilant for any potential threats."
"Suspicious?" Hejinmal echoed, his voice trembling.
"Yes. Trusting blindly could prove disastrous. Keep your senses sharp," Olasird'arc cautioned.
"I-I will, Father. I'll keep a watchful eye and ears open," Hejinmal promised, his resolve evident despite his faltering speech.
Olasird'arc nodded approvingly, but then fixed his son with a stern glare. "And stop stuttering so much. Show some backbone. You are the son of the White Dragon Lord, ruler of the Azerlisian Mountains."
Hejinmal wanted to interject, but wisely held his tongue, knowing better than to argue with his father's commands.
X
In the heart of the desert, far to the south of the Re-Estize Kingdom, loomed a colossal and awe-inspiring city that instilled both reverence and fear in those who beheld it. Legend has it that this city was erected five centuries ago by the Eight Greed Kings, who intended it to serve as the capital of their empire during their reign over the continent.
Though the hubris of the Eight Greed Kings led to their downfall and the demise of their nation in internecine strife, the city endured, guarded by thirty sentinels armed with formidable magical weaponry.
Today, however, the city was encircled by hundreds of gigantic dragons, among them were Hejinmal and his father, alongside other Frost Dragons. Their attention was fixed upon the dragon standing at the epicentre of the city, while a fully clad armoured figure of imposing stature stood by his side.
Tsaindorcus Vaision, a dragon of magnificent proportions, exuded an aura of majesty. His scales, gleaming with an ethereal white luminescence, imparted an impression of grace and elegance, akin to a living masterpiece rather than a member of the mightiest species. His colossal stature alike, Tsaindorcus Vaision raised his voice with fervour and conviction as he addressed his assembled kin and allies.
"Greetings, my esteemed brethren and honoured allies! Today marks a pivotal moment in our history—a moment of unity and purpose. For too long, our world has languished under the shadow of a curse—a curse born from the avarice of my progenitor, the sins of the past. This curse has warped the very fabric of our reality, unleashing untold suffering and devastation upon countless species by the periodic incursion of those abhorrent beings every century. But today, my friends, we stand united in our resolve to cast aside this malevolent legacy, to right the wrongs of the past. Together, we shall perform a mass ritual to rectify the sins of my forebearer and to usher in a new era of harmony and prosperity!"
The proclamation stirred the gathered dragons, eliciting thunderous roars echoing across the desert sands and elemental breaths unleashed into the heavens. Each word resonated with passion and determination, infusing the air with a palpable sense of purpose and resolve. Tsaindorcus Vaision, his form radiant with ethereal light, exuded an aura of majesty and authority as he continued to inspire his comrades with his impassioned speech.
Meanwhile, Hejinmal harboured concerns regarding the toll this endeavour would exact upon his kind. It was widely known that wild magic drew its power from the souls of beings, and even legendary dragons possessed finite soul energy. While the ancient Dragon Lords had methods to bolster their souls, Hejinmal pondered the fate of the newer Dragon Lords and fledgling dragons like himself, who relied on the Tier Magic System. How would they replenish their depleted soul strength after partaking in this ritual?
The Platinum Dragon Lord had reiterated on numerous occasions that all dragons would indeed gain wild magic after the ritual. He assured them that the strength they contributed would directly correlate to the potency of the wild magic they would receive. But where was the evidence? Could such a feat truly be possible? With these doubts lingering in his mind, Hejinmal extended his senses to their utmost, scrutinising every detail for even the slightest alteration that could spell irreversible consequences as the ritual unfolded.
Tsaindorcus brandished a blade crafted from crystal in one hand—a weapon that, if described, appeared both stunning and ostentatious. According to the information Hejinmal had perused, it was none other than the Eight Greed Kings' Guild Weapon.
In his other hand, Tsaindorcus held a thick tome. Legend had it that the Eight Greed Kings possessed a plethora of powerful artefacts that cemented their dominion over the New World. Foremost among these was the Nameless Book of Spells. Valued at a king's ransom, this tome was imbued with unimaginable power.
It was whispered that all spells of the New World were inscribed within its pages, and that newly created incantations were automatically transcribed into its depths. The true extent of its capabilities remained a mystery, yet its existence served as a testament to the possibility of legendary 10th Tier Magic.
Next, a sinuous dragon deftly crawled from within the castle. Its slender form, narrow wings, and lithe limbs gave it the appearance of a Drake rather than a Dragon. Its sleek scales shimmered like amethyst in the sunlight, yet appeared almost obsidian-like in the shadows.
This was the Deep Darkness Dragon Lord who once fought and killed a Pu'hu'la-yer—The wretched existence that had required the combined might of seven to eight dragon lords to defeat was killed by this fearsome dragon single handedly. The spoils of its victory were evident, held within its jaws—the Black Bead, a treasure of immense power that could change the very laws of the world.
Subsequently, four more dragons emerged, each bearing artefacts of comparable might and worth. With each item surpassing the last in potency, they assumed their positions within the magical formation. These legendary treasures were known as World Items, possessing power vast enough to bring about the annihilation of entire worlds. The summoning of the abhorrent beings was attributed to the Dragon Emperor's insatiable coveting of these Items.
As the Legendary Ritual commenced, a surge of energy coursed through everyone present, invigorating them with newfound vigour drawn from the World Items. Unaware of the subtle drain on their souls wrought by the formation, the dragons revelled in the exhilaration of their augmented strength.
However, as the Ancient Spell persisted, signs of distress began to manifest with some of the weaker dragons going berserk. Their scales cracked, and strange energy seeped from every orifice, hinting at the tumult within.
Hajinmal's voice pierced through the chaos as he called out to his father with a sharp cry, "NUU-UUKK!"
This code word, coined by Hajinmal following his father's cautionary words, held significance akin to that of a small creature resembling a rat known as a Nuk. Preyed upon by numerous inhabitants of the Azerlisia Mountains, the Nuk had evolved with robust reproductive capabilities and a tendency to flee at the slightest hint of danger. Thus, its name aptly served as a call to retreat in times of peril.
However, as Hajinmal turned, he witnessed a dragon hurtling away at breakneck speed, intent on escaping the confines of the ritual only to bash his head straight into a barrier. The dragon's roar of agony echoed through the air as others joined in, bombarding the invisible wall with their elemental breaths, only to meet with futile resistance.
World-Isolating Barrier
This was a mid-tier wild magic spell that had been cast. It created a realm separate from reality, impervious to conventional entry or exit methods, including teleportation. Even attempts to teleport within or out of its confines were met with failure, with the furthest one could reach being its very edge.
Only those possessing special means, such as Wild Magic or a World Item, could breach its boundaries. The dome encompassing the Platinum Dragon Lord's domain spanned an immense kilometre-wide expanse, an ability rivalling that of a Super-Tier spell or a World Item in its sheer scale and potency.
Hajinmal locked eyes with his father and turned his snout towards Tsaindorcus. Understanding his son's intent, Olasird'arc unleashed a resounding roar and surged towards the epicentre where the True Dragon Lords were conducting the ritual. In his wake, several other dragons followed suit, mustering their strength and preparing to confront the mightiest of their kind.
Meanwhile, the Platinum Dragon Lord observed with detached apathy, fully aware of the inevitable fate awaiting these fake Dragon Lords. Their belated efforts to halt the spell were futile. With each exertion of their strength, the dragons transformed into mere motes of light.
His attention shifted towards the city below, where millions of inhabitants had long perished, their souls drained from their corporeal forms. Such was the grim fate befalling numerous cities across the world as the ritual continued its relentless march.
Amidst the prevailing despair, a curious spectacle seized his attention. Despite the overwhelming tide of oblivion, a handful of souls managed to elude its clutches, slipping away towards an uncertain destination.
Speculating on their fate, he pondered whether they were destined for the new realm where the abhorrent beings and their World Items would inevitably meet their reckoning. Without intervention, he allowed their escape, understanding that their departure held little sway over the relentless force of the spell.
For even the loss of a thousand souls slipping through the cracks would scarcely perturb the spell's insatiable appetite for countless more. They were but a drop in an ocean, insignificant against the vast expanse of millions of souls required to sustain its formidable power.
X
In the northwestern expanse of the Re-Estize Kingdom, nestled amid imposing mountains, lies the Argland Council State, a demi-human nation with a storied past. Founded by the Platinum Dragon Lord as part of his pioneering experiments in community building, it emerged following the defeat of the Evil Deities two centuries ago. A bastion of diversity, the nation is home to a myriad of humans and demi-human species coexisting in harmony.
Yet, amidst this tranquil tapestry, an eerie stillness has descended upon the land. Cities once bustling with activity now lie silent, devoid of the usual clamour of daily life. The laughter of children and the chirping of birds have faded into oblivion, leaving behind a haunting emptiness. It is as if the very essence of vitality has been drained from the land, leaving its inhabitants laying down like the puppets whose strings were cut.
The Dragon Kingdom, a bastion of human civilization within the New World, traces its lineage back to the illustrious reign of the Brightness Dragon Lord. Presently, its governance lies in the capable hands of his great-granddaughter, Dragon Queen Draudillon.
The nation endured relentless threats of invasion from the neighbouring Beastman Country, its very existence teetering on the brink of annihilation. Salvation arrived in the form of the Founder, whose timely intervention struck fear into the hearts of the marauding Beastmen Army, compelling them to retreat and sparing the Dragon Kingdom from impending destruction.
A young girl made her way through the majestic corridors of the royal palace, her steps echoing softly against the polished marble floors. Tall columns adorned with intricate carvings lined the passage, their surfaces illuminated by the gentle glow of ornate sconces. Flanking her were several ministers and royal guards, their watchful eyes following her every move with earnest vigilance.
As she approached the imposing Platinum door, its surface shimmered with an otherworldly brilliance, etched with intricate patterns that seemed to dance in the flickering torchlight. The door itself stood tall and formidable, adorned with elaborate carvings depicting scenes of battle and triumph. Its imposing presence seemed to dwarf even the assembled guards and ministers who stood watch nearby.
From beyond the door, a cacophony of sounds erupted, filling the corridor with a tumultuous symphony of moans, screams, and roars, interspersed with sporadic bouts of rigorous clapping.
The girl frowned at the sounds but quickly veiled her disapproval with an innocent expression, knowing that the sooner she dealt with this, the sooner the debauchery would cease. Summoning her courage, she called out in her sweet, melodious voice,
"My~lord! May I come in?!"
As the girl's voice pierced through the tumult, the cacophony within the chamber subsided, and the colossal doors swung open. Stepping inside, she left her entourage behind, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Inside, a glittering hoard of gold and treasures adorned the chamber. The wealth of the Dragon Kingdom shimmered, bathed in the radiant glow emanating from a strikingly handsome man reclining atop this lavish display.
Surrounding him were several naked beauties, their forms a testament to his allure, as he regarded the newcomer with an insatiable hunger in his eyes. In a mirthful tone, he addressed his descendant, his voice rich with anticipation,
"Is everything ready, my child?"
Unperturbed by the provocative scene before her, the little girl responded with unwavering enthusiasm,
"Yes! Great~GrandPa! Everything is prepared as per your Orders! We can Begin the ritual~, when you are ready~!"
With a satisfied chuckle, the man nodded, his gaze alight with eagerness,
"Umu! Then Let us commence without any further delay."
The handsome man rose from his opulent throne, his form bathed in radiant light. In a breathtaking display of power and majesty, the handsome man rose to his feet, his naked form illuminated by an ethereal glow.
With a swift motion, wings of light unfurled from his back, and his body underwent a stunning metamorphosis, morphing into the majestic form of a beautiful white dragon. As he soared out of the treasury, all those present bowed their heads in reverence, acknowledging the might of the dragon lord.
Emerging into the skies above the capital of the Draconic Kingdom, the magnificent dragon lord commanded the attention of all who beheld him. As he ascended, a wave of awe swept through the onlookers, prompting them to prostrate themselves in reverence.
In the next moment, a colossal magic circle materialized, its intricate patterns weaving a protective barrier over the entire capital. Simultaneously, similar formations manifested across the whole nation, casting a spell of awe and fear over the land.
With joyous expressions, the people gazed upon the magnificent view, unaware of the faint glow that began to suffuse their forms. Some who noticed it felt a surge of elation, believing it to be the blessing of their revered deity, but they soon transformed into motes of light, unwittingly fuelling the power of the legendary spell.
Witnessing the devastating scene unfold before her, the queen found herself unable to contain her anguish. Her heartrending cries echoed through the hall as she beheld the faces of her beloved subjects, each one a testament to the sacrifices she had made to shield them from harm.
Yet, despite her best efforts, she now stood powerless, forced to bear witness as they fell victim to the relentless onslaught. The weight of her inability to protect them pressed upon her like a suffocating shroud, leaving her engulfed in a profound sense of despair.
"Why!? Why!!?" she cried out in desperation, her voice trembling with emotion.
"You promised that this would quell future troubles!"
"Indeed, this will eradicate those pests once and for all. But child, your vision is too narrow; you fail to grasp the secrets of the world," he retorted, his tone laced with a mix of resignation and wisdom.
Saying this Brightness Dragon Lord Vanished in a Dazzling display leaving behind the sobbing Dragon Queen.
And so the world was rid of Tier Magic and all the World Items. With the power of Wild Magic, all its traces were erased, even from the people's memories, of those who remain, unbeknownst to them what kind powers their friends and ancestors wield. With the passage of time, even the traces of their civilization vanished.