Dragons are made from stars.

Takes a star in the sky. Your eyes, fettered upon its light, are probably the only ones. Of miniscule change, such a massive being would be stared at.

And these stars that mingled, that died in a future, showed a life beyond. A reality that needn't make sense, and a reality that could be said to be non-existent.

[Special User #3, welcome to the Scenario Intermediary Space.]

[Your past achievements have allowed you access into the vital stage of humanities mission.]

A white blaring avenue, where nothing of note existed. He stood within its confines, dull eyes leering on the words that popped into his reality. Such things didn't have a right to be in his field of view; they were strictly for things that don't exist.

Though, he couldn't say he was surprised. He sat down on the white marble flooring, crossing his legs and slouching. An expression that hardly seemed humane surfaced on him as he watched messages appear in his vision.

He was loosely angry.

[As a special user, your current situation will be strictly analysed to find the perfect scenario for you.]

"..." Such a thing didn't need a word from him, however. He had already seen a worth of worlds within a couple simulations that spanned a few days of real time. For each hour back then he had lived far beyond a normal human. For each day, he would have changed and dulled to a span of imaginary time.

Ten thousand years.

And for it all to dissipate when he leaves, for it to not exist anymore.

That was his life. And the many times he took it, the many times he made himself forget about such time limits, and the many times he killed a universe that never existed in the first place.

Such things would kill a part of him; but there was a lot to kill. After all that, after the 7th time he entered a world that didn't exist, and got to intimiately know it, he finally found how much he could kill.

And with that limit, he stopped and lived like any broken human. In a world where reality was often muddled.

[Scenario found for your current aliments.]

[Custom Scenario ABX#103]

[A Lonely Dragon.]

[With custom modifications to a 'Dragon' lifeform, its talent in 'Aether', and 'Body' has been lowered to that of an Imbecile.]

[This a fantasy world through and through, and you will be reborn as a Dragon with no talent.

You, User #3, must grow to the peak of this world.]

[Difficulty: Improbable.]

He looked at the words that seemed half-insulting, and nearly burst out laughing. He had experience with this difficulty, and it was the freshest in his mind; namely, it was the last world he had destroyed.

It seemed that they thought highly of him. Vital, eh?

"You do realise that my heart has nearly died?"

[Preparing energy.]

It needn't matter to the screen. He done the improbable once before, so he can do it once more. But better.

Surely, by a machine's standard, this would be the case.

Scenario bastards.

A light evenloped him. Its maws of energy panged with a looming far beyond the white world he had been trapped in.

[May humanity prosper.]

And his memories brought disorder. Dissonance. He had never seen that message before, and the thought that he knew was true had thus been transformed into rampaging emotions.

For this was reality.

For this was his home.

And now, for the final time, he has to go through something that broke him.

And it'd all be real.

Like that mattered, because—either way—it may crack his heart whole, finally, and end his stupid life.

Primal. Desolate. Stupid. These were the three words that could best describe his state of mind.

John.

And it was easy to deduce why. Like a dam had broke inside him, he was stationary, neither moving nor comprehending anything. The world was nothing.

He was thrown back into the war he lost.

John was a dragon now. In this forest, here he was, standing in its confines. A tail that laid on the mud, the four claws that held him up—John, you're a dragon.

"Ah... Guess it wasn't a dream this time." He growled up, blasting up steam from his nostrils. Those beady eyes of his were alive, and they looked around with a glint that didn't reflect his body's age.

He first raised his paws, gazing at the claws that could rip a man in half. Then, he scratched his mouth. He opened his maw and felt clanging occur. Next, he sifted his feet a little and tried to map the movements into his mind.

But his body was hard to control. Like, it was infuriatingly difficult. It was as if his command was being scrambled midway through his spine. Left goes right, up goes down. It was bit flipping his damn brain.

"Imbecile, right." He felt something akin to nostalgia. Then, the desire to kill himself. The difficulty 'Improbable' wasn't for some circle jerk; he was truly going to have a life of hell.

You see, one must first do all the other difficulties before attempting this type of deal. Of course, he didn't choose to do this, and this was probably not a 'scenario' but a 'reality', but it seemed that the logic still applied.

The informal rules were as follows:

1. 'The knowledge of Aether from the previous difficulty is imperative to survive.'

2. 'The experience of the previous difficulty is imperative to survive'

3. 'Do not attempt 'Improbable' unless you wish to die.'

Each difficulty essentially laid out concepts in growing complexity. For Aether, the harder difficulty lessened the 'help' you received from the world. Ie, you had to do more of the thinking yourself. This was stated as 'Genius'. So someone on 'Easy' would be considered a Genius, and would 'get' most things easily.

However, this was just simulated. A Genius on 'Easy' would only truly understand simple concepts of Aether. So, going to 'Normal', they would have some of their 'Genius' removed, and they would have to build upon the foundation they made through the pervious difficulty.

It's basically building blocks.

The human mind was not made to understand Aether well at all, and for the 'Scenarios', this whole idea just seemed like a contrived way to create difficulties. It was all fake, after all. Just a computer simulation of some stupid world that will end in 10,000 years.

Yet, here John was, in a world he had never wanted to join. He was not inputted in any machine, he was just moved here.

And it seemed that the same concepts still applied. Aether, somehow, will probably exist here. Otheriwse it wouldn't be called a 'Scenario' even though it was probably 'Real'. He can't discount that he was still in a simulated world, but it didn't matter either way.

Real or not, his mind will perceive everything as truth. Real or not, he will feel for the people here. Real or not, he will become a life for this world.

It doesn't matter.

John looked around once more after realising his inability to move. He focused on something that didn't exist normally. And...

"It seems I really am an Imbecile." He couldn't sense anything. Either way, he was on the assumption Aether existed here.

It was just omnipresent energy. Just stuff you do stuff to, and with properties that one would typically gather knowledge on. Concepts. Ideas.

John had a mind that was utterly crammed with comprehension of this stuff. It wasn't real. It didn't exist. It was literally just a made up thing in a simulation world. Yet, he strived and strived to go up the difficulty ladder.

And thus, he became an expert in something that didn't matter. Of course, the Scenarios were everywhere, and thus people valued this knowledge—but strictly speaking, you couldn't do anything with it.

Now that he wasn't in his world, this knowledge was once again useful. Stupidly. This was truly idiotic.

"I'll need to start by imparting myself with a vision to see the stuff." He was disgruntled by the idea. You should never need to do this, but he was in an 'Improbable' scenario. He had literally nothing.

And thus, he now needed to use near the zenith of what he understood to conjure 'talent' within himself. The idea that most would deem impossible was comprehended by him in the 'Very Hard' scenario he done.

But, it's like: 'To get strong, excercise everyday.' Of course this is a massive simplification, but the concept still stands: actually doing it was hell. True Hell.

A hell that will be a precursor to the many more hells thereafter. It was fucking improbable for him to survive this place.

Well, he was assuming a lot of things. He doesn't know anything about this world, but the description put a rather apt 'fantasy world through and through', thus he was expecting bullshit.

First, he had to walk—the challenge of the century.

Ten. Hours. In a forest where nothing seemed to want to disturb him, where the wet shrubbery and the crackling bark encompassed, it took him ten bloody hours to figure it out.

With all his focus, all his damned experience, he was able to walk. Pat. Pat. His legs moved like a mechanical system, slow and steady, and he was striving for somewhere safe.

His strength as of this moment would be: 'Shit'. His body had a lot of potential, and he had luckily played as a non-human entity twice (so he had a number of body techniques to try), but he could barely move!

He was like some sort of Dragon Sloth!

"Bastards..." He cursed the unknown twits who had done this. It wasn't like his planet was under attack or anything. Yet, it was a bit desolate from all the half-dead souls lingering after a trauma that never even happened—but what can you do?

It did more good then harm, John thought atleast. Some scenarios allowed great minds to further themselves to beyond. With time at your hand, you could learn anything. Of course, John wasn't going to do boring stuff like that... he wanted a mental death!

Most of the population thought so aswell. Games were fun. Experiencing fantasy was fun. Experiencing the people you love die, not so much. John forever wished that the restraint would leave the scenarios, that the world could be saved, but there were fundamental limitations that stopped such things from occuring.

...Or the creators were assholes. John was inclined to the latter, but what can he do? The people who made those fucking things were beyond anyone else. They were like some sort of intellectual monsters!

"Cave." John said in a robotic mannerism. In front, a mud pathway had parted the thick forest, and beyond it was a carved out rock. The darkness that dwelled within didn't seem inviting, but John was used to taking risks.

No, he was used to the madness that comes from the risks. He can die for all he cared, but he'd rather do that with a bang. He still has some self respect, after all.

"Come out, come out." Thud. Thud. Johns lumbersome gait approached the cave, and his deep muttering echoed in the vicinity. His dull face, and laxadasial posture, seemed to presume confidence.

"Come on..." He entered the darkness and grinned.

Thud. Thud.

Onwards, he lost his sight. And thus, he stopped breathing.

There.

A light gasping was to his right. Frigid, clammy, and slathered with groans; ie, weak. John twisted his body to turn towards the source. His red pupils glinted in the darkness.

"Gasp!" Whoever was here knew that such eyes were looking straight at them. John didn't care.

"Hello, it seems you have taken refuge in my soon-to-be-home." John took his time to stride to a corner. He couldn't actually see anything, but there was some hushed breathing beside his left foot.

Was it a human?

John's expression distorted a little with some thoughts. Like a collapsed smile, or a shivering glare.

"Please..." The voice that murmured, wretched in hurt and hardly audible. Hoarse, and maybe female?

John, a Dragon in this life, faced such a being with silence. His high face looked into space.

'End this life.'

'You don't need to face this anymore.'

'You don't need to pry open dead wounds.'

His right foot was atop a rather sharp edge coming from the rock floor. John turned to look there. He was quite sentimental right now. 70,000 years is long, and his memories weren't clear, but...

"Please..." The whimper of wish. The anguish, the pleading.

Stop.

"I have children..."

I know your life has worth.

"Please...!"

John stared at the edge with a steadfast face.