Epilogue: Dragons of Ancient

Final Chapter of this arc presented to you, beloved readers.

It is short, very short. But I feel it provides just the right amount of foreshadowing.

But without further ado, the conclusion!

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Taps of approach echoed a clear and growing loud, their volume bouncing off the ancient, yet unblemished, walls of the foreign structure he had decided his new residence. The heavy steps cut through the sound of his quasi-hibernation and redirected the attention he would usually waste on his dreamless states upon the knowing intruder.

He shifted his massive form, wings of scaly platinum stretching off the atrophy he knew could never exist on his person as his slitted eyes of yellowish golden flickered into existence after a decade of seclusion.

He wasn't one for formalities, long since abandoned such things after the deterioration of his kind, thus the most he did was adopt a form that conveyed his awareness and attentiveness.

The steps grew louder, and the silhouette they belonged to appeared, prideful, confident, and unhurried. All these were characteristics the powerful race were known for, though, these days the younglings and bitter had warped them into their most despicable forms.

But it wasn't the famed countenance that caught his attention…

His eyes narrowed, slitted reptilian pupils thinning just a tiny bit as he took in the alien appearance of this oh-so-familiar scent and aura.

His visitor's appearance was most uncommon, like a miniature metallic dragon compressed into a humanoid form. Of course, the defining features of his identity stood proud: the horns of dragon descend, the smooth, unblemished, scales of silver, the large, powerful, wings, and the cerulean blue, steely, eyes born from centuries of discipline.

The last of the original titled dragons; The Swordmaster.

…and yet he was still brought back to the new form the old dragon had chosen to take…to adorn.

— Polymorph?

He thought, unsure. The ability— spell wasn't so common seeing how it was so recent and unpolished. And for it to take on this form? A combine between a bipedal and draconic? How unnatural…

"Tsaindorcus!"

The voice echoed with strength reverberating through it, causing a collapse in his train of thought.

Tsar made to pay attention to his guest, noting the clear way his steps send shocks and cracks throughout the otherwise unbreakable floor of cosmic marble. Unsurprising, the hate his kind held for anything Yggdrasil-related was unmatched, unchanged even after four centuries and a half had passed.

"Mutayrro, your visit here is unexpected." He responded to the unsaid greeting with a voice devoid of expression and clear intent. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

Mutayrro roamed the halls of the players…slayers of five centuries ago, with his eyes of blue, distaste grabbing on his usually stoic features when his gaze flew past Tsar's Remote Platinum Armour.

"My visits wouldn't be so infrequent if you chose residence away from this accursed filth of a place."

The Swordmaster snarled, dangerous gnashers of steel — unlike normal teeth — flashing. But, Tsar was unmoved, ripples of emotions barely touching his heart at the hidden insult beneath Mutayrro's statement.

He waited, patiently, for his question to be answered.

Mutayrro let out a huff, his scratched wings fluttering the tiniest bit.

"Another century has gone by. The advent of more of those anathemas the previous platinum had foolishly set upon us draws near, if they aren't already here."

The last platinum's gaze shifted to his armor, the times of old replaying in his mind. He wasn't unfamiliar with the so-called players of Yggdrasil, in fact, he had been on friendly terms with the last one.

Tsar wanted to sigh, but he held himself. The last dragons of Wild Magic were unwilling to listen, to learn. They had associated all beings of Yggdrasil to be alike, players included.

It was impolitic, and the reason why his race has seen a devastating dwindle four and a half centuries ago.

Mutayrro continued.

"The curse that is the magic of tier grows with each arrival—"

"—century."

Tsar corrected with an interjection, but the old dragon was quick to dismiss him.

"Unimportant! This new magic is vile, malicious, and infectious, 'unabiding' of the rules of nature. It needs to be stopped…halted, lest our connection with the world gets corroded!"

Tsar's eyes narrowed dangerously, not liking what the old dragon was implying.

"Tread carefully, Swordmaster. Your suggestion isn't so stray from the one that brought forth this current catastrophe."

The youngest guardian warned, the bluish root markings of his unique lineage glowing in threat.

Mutayrro snarled with disgust at the comparison, a vicious glare spared at the last platinum.

"You would do well to not associate me with the ignoramus that was your father, fledgling! I would hate to be the downfall of such an important lineage!"

The Swordmaster roared in a mixture of disgust and anger, slight tremors running throughout the halls at the impact of the dragon's compressed tail. Expectedly, Tsar wasn't threatened, but he did acknowledge the increased strength Mutayrro had amassed.

— It seems you haven't been idle throughout the centuries.

Tsar was suddenly curious about his other fellow 'true dragon lords', if their strength had increased or remained stationary like his.

The old dragon calmed and withdrew his aura.

"I came about a discovery…revelation, if you may. The treasures of strength unmatched the previous platinum had hungered for bear frightening similarities to the World's Energy."

Not a big revelation, Tsar had already been aware of the connection between World Class Items of Yggdrasil and the World's Energy that had been the primary fuel for Wild Magic.

He kept his tongue and let the old dragon continue.

"I have no in-depth knowledge of spellcraft, not ever since those foolish sympathisers chose to share draconic secrets with the first dwellers of worlds beyond."

Mutayrro said the latter part in disdain.

Ah, the mechanics of spell creation. Surshana and his friends were a crafty bunch, having used the dragons' weakness for all-things shiny against them.

"Your intentions, Swordmaster? I have yet to hear of them!"

The old dragon looked upon him with steel in his eyes.

"I want you to engineer a spell that will siphon the World Energy from one of those items. And another to bring forth balance between the filthy curse of tier magic and this world's energy."

Tsar wanted to scoff at such a foolish idea, but he held himself. It was all too obvious that the old dragon had no idea of the workings of World Items, and little understanding of Wild Magic.

Still, there was merit in this.

"And you would ask this of me? One who has had dealings with the beings you so obviously hate? Why not Cure Elim? Or that deranged scholar, Oriculus?"

"Cure has fallen, he's turned himself into a lusus naturae, his connection with the world was severed and has taken to soul harvesting."

Tsar frowned deeply, anger seeping into his heart.

"How?!"

He roared, his inborn authority reverberating and oppressing. Mutayrro huffed, unconcerned.

"I am unfamiliar with the workings behind his turn, but he has become a life-sucker, a dark race of foreign origins."

— Vampire….!

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Author's Thoughts.

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The Saint: Apologies for not addressing the many questions most had about the previous chapter. I get that I hadn't done well to explain the spells used, my understanding being that most of them are self-explanatory and a quick search on the web would reveal their intended purpose.

As for Echoes of the Past, it's a mini-series I plan to work on, showing days of YGGDRASIL, and the interactions between Players. They aren't linear or interconnected. Most will be one-shots like the previous one, while some will be multi-chaptered.

The next arc might be longer than this one, I had previously intended this arc to be 50k at best but things just kinda got out of hand.

Thanks for all your support, and I hope to see you again next arc.

P.S: WEBNOVEL has caught up with both FFN and AO3. Not gonna lie, the story's format is a lot better on those sites.

Bye bye.