In a forgotten corner of the universe, far from the bloody wars between demons, angels, and other factions, floated the domain of Ophis, the Infinite Dragon. A massive, jagged fortress of black stone hung suspended in a starry void where constellations seemed frozen in time. Its walls, etched with pulsating runes, shimmered with a bluish glow, and crystal domes offered glimpses into a labyrinthine interior. The air thrummed with oppressive energy: Here resides the Infinite.
Outside, thousands of small dragons patrolled in swarms. Their silver scales reflected the stars, their membranous wings beating in an incessant hum. These creatures, fragments of Ophis's consciousness, were her eyes, her claws, her shield.
At the heart of the bastion, within a spherical chamber of black crystal, Ophis lay dormant. In her human form, she was a frail, almost childlike figure with alabaster skin and androgynous features, devoid of emotion. Her eyes, fathomless black pools that seemed to contain entire galaxies, were closed, veiled by deep slumber. She floated within a cocoon of energy, a halo of blue and white filaments pulsing like a heart. Around her, a dozen small dragons fluttered, their tails coiled in spirals, unconsciously mimicking the Ouroboros symbol. The chamber was silent, save for the faint hiss of their wings and a distant echo.
Ophis was not born like other beings. She was a primordial entity, born from the original chaos, before heaven and hell took shape. In the first moments of existence, when the void still churned, she emerged—an infinite consciousness, neither god nor demon, but something else. She remembered those ancient times, when she danced in the void, shaping stars on a whim.
But chaos had given birth to other forces: the arrogant angels and the destructive demons. Ophis watched them, curious, but soon they saw her as a threat. The angels called her Abomination, the demons called her Scourge. They hunted her, uniting their forces in a primordial war to annihilate her. Ophis, indifferent to their quarrels, withdrew, wounded but invincible. She had no desire to rule or destroy. She only wanted silence, a return to the void from which she was born.
In her sleep, fragments of memories drifted through her mind, like shards of stars. She relived the war, the heavens ablaze with the angels' spears. She had faced archangels and archdemons, their divine weapons blunted against her scales.
An archangel, his arm torn off: "Why do you exist, monster?" Ophis, in her draconic form—immense and serpentine—had replied with a voice that shook the heavens: "I am. To remind others that they are weak." But their relentless assaults had exhausted her. She had retreated to this bastion, a refuge she forged in the void, a place where neither angel nor demon would dare venture.
The small dragons around her stirred, sensing a disturbance in her sleep. They were born of her loneliness, fragments of her essence she had detached to fill the void. Each dragon was a part of her, a limited but loyal consciousness, capable of thought and action to protect her.
"Mother," one of them hissed, perched on a crystal, "the world is changing. It approaches." Ophis, in her dream, did not respond.
She knew the world was always changing, that wars resumed, that the ambitions of mortals never ceased. But she was the Infinite.
Yet, a more recent memory troubled her. A presence, centuries ago, had brushed against her bastion. An incubus, a slave, whose aura reeked of ambition. He had not dared enter, but his eyes thirsted for conquest: *I will return.*
Ophis, even asleep, had sensed his desire for domination, like that of the archdemons of old. The small dragons had hissed, ready to tear the intruder apart, but she had calmed them with a thought: *Let him be. He is nothing.* Now, in her sleep, she perceived a growing power, as if that promise had materialized.
The energy cocoon around her pulsed stronger, the blue filaments stirring. The small dragons froze, their eyes fixed on the void beyond the walls. One, bolder than the rest, approached her cocoon and hissed: "Mother, should I seek?" Ophis, in her dream, murmured: "Observe." The dragon nodded, then darted into the corridors, followed by a dozen others. They were her senses, her scouts, ready to gut any threat.
The small dragons, now hundreds, converged toward the outer domes, their hisses turning into war cries. Something approached, something that dared challenge the Infinite. In her dream, Ophis barely opened one eye, a black shard piercing the cocoon. "Let them come," she thought. "They will learn."