God of Death!

The young dragon's dreams were odd and capricious, even more whimsical than those of the elder black dragon in his prime.

At least in his youth, the evil dragon had never harbored thoughts of venturing into the human world to claim an emperor's throne.

And certainly, not even in his mature years had such a fantasy crossed his mind.

But the hatchling I had rescued was different. From a tender age, she harbored grand aspirations of reigning over the human world as an emperor. Whether these ambitions were truly his own or inspired by another, I couldn't tell.

"Theoretically, becoming an emperor means you could do as you please, even act above the law. That is, if you choose to be a negligent ruler, a ruler who ignores his duties and indulges in leisure. Such an emperor lives a life of ease," I explained to him.

"The drawback, however, is grim. Such emperors often meet unfortunate ends, overthrown by revolt or condemned to the gallows. There's rarely a peaceful exit for the neglectful sovereign."

Yet, when she envisioned herself as an emperor, she saw a different path. She would not be the apathetic ruler described. Under her reign, the Faroran Empire would thrive as never before.

The distant villages and towns within the empire would banish hunger, for she would take to the fields herself.

If she was clever enough, perhaps she would innovate agriculture, cultivating apples larger than watermelons and corn that rivaled the size of ancient ancestors.

Her conviction was firm when she declared her desire to ascend to the throne.

After all, wouldn't an emperor who knew the value of the soil be superior to her conniving imperial sister, embroiled daily in courtly schemes?

"I have no desire to be a foolish ruler; I aspire to be a benevolent one."

"Why aspire to be a good emperor when you could remain a dragon? If you think life as a dragon dull, then, upon my death from old age, I shall pass on to you my title of 'Death Trainee.'"

The young dragon rolled her eyes discreetly at the elder's suggestion. By the time the ancient dragon met his end, she mused, she would have cycled through countless rebirths.

And just what did being a 'trainee of death' entail, anyway?

"Are all the gods of death confined to the infernal realms?" Lucia pondered aloud, her curiosity about the afterlife evident in her tone.

She had no desire to align herself with such dark forces. "Rather than training as a God of Death, I'd much prefer to be a trainee Angel," she mused, envisioning a role filled with light and grace.

"Once the evil dragon passes from old age and descends into Hell, does he transform into a God of Death?" Lucia inquired skeptically. "I've heard that when dragons from our lineage perish, the dragons of Dragon Island use their souls to safeguard the island. Their physical forms dissolve into primal energy, nourishing the very land they protected."

"Dragons dying outside of Dragon Island transform into skeletal bone dragons, enslaved by powerful necromancers or dark wizards as their mounts," she continued, recounting the tales she had been told.

"I've never heard of any becoming trainee gods of death. It sounds as implausible as becoming a trainee angel," Lucia remarked, suspecting the evil dragon of attempting to lure her into a dubious role.

"You are still young and inexperienced. In time, you will discover that this world harbors many unusual professions," the elder dragon responded, a hint of wisdom in his voice.

"I still find the idea of being an emperor intriguing. If I could become the first emperor in history, it would certainly be a quicker ascension than attempting to rule the human world as a dragon," Lucia declared, her ambition clear.

"But beware, should you lose your way, you will undoubtedly become a target for the powerful factions within both the temple and the human realms. However, with strong allies, you could find safety or escape when necessary," the elder dragon cautioned, emphasizing the risks involved.

"I will diligently pursue my dream!" Lucia affirmed, her resolve unshaken.

"Then continue on your path," he encouraged.

Lucia's gaze drifted to the portraits adorning the wall. "Lance, could you identify any of these humans or non-humans as formidable adversaries?"

"That one in the corner... Well, I must attend to something else first," Lance muttered, his attention briefly diverted.

The [God of Death] from the other side of Hell, responsible for liaisons, had indeed reached out to him. Could it be an offer of remuneration? "If being a fisherman in Hell pays, I could work there until my dying day and beyond," he pondered, half-joking about the prospects of eternal employment.

Lucia noticed the dragon's size had diminished to about three meters, the same as the previous night. "If I touched his head while he shrinks, would he react?" she wondered silently. The temptation to test her theory was strong. "Maybe I should give it a try?"

The young dragon cautiously extended her claw towards the evil dragon's imposing head, a gesture of both curiosity and bravery. As her claw neared, a black sickle, emanating an ominous aura, suddenly sprang from the evil dragon's horns. It whizzed past, barely missing her claw and slicing through the air to land with a clang on the desk across the room.

The young dragon recoiled in shock, her heart pounding fiercely.

"That was close," she gasped, trembling at the near miss. "I merely wanted to touch him, and almost lost my claw!"

Tears welled up in his eyes, not from pain but from the fright of the encounter. The terrifying incident left her thinking twice about testing the temper of such a formidable creature.

As she regained her composure, the sickle, still swirling with dark mist, settled on the desk and abruptly ceased moving. A light screen flickered to life upon its blade, and a mysterious figure cloaked in a black robe and masked face appeared as a projection on the scythe.

"Is that a projection?" the young dragon wondered aloud, both intrigued and bewildered by the magical weapon's capabilities.

She knew such enchanted tools were costly, their prices varying significantly with the range of their projection abilities. The simpler, short-range devices were relatively affordable, but a magical instrument capable of long-distance projection like this one was usually possessed only by the wealthy and influential.

"Who is this enigmatic person on the display?" she pondered.

The figure addressed the evil dragon directly, her tone carrying a mix of surprise and authority. "How come you're not dead yet?"

The young dragon's eyes widened in admiration and envy. Only a truly formidable being would dare to question the mortality of the evil dragon in such a blunt manner.

"I have never seen a leader who so eagerly anticipates the demise of his subordinates," the evil dragon retorted, his voice laced with a cold amusement. "You vanish for centuries, and the moment you sense my 'undead aura' in hell, you assume I've perished and rush to check if it's true? You're too enthusiastic, even for hell."

The projection shifted slightly, the mysterious figure tilting his head, as if weighing the evil dragon's sarcasm against his own expectations.

"Welcome to the annals of antiquity! Frankly, I didn't expect you to still be among the living. You've been a 'trainee of death' for ages. Don't you ever crave a promotion or a pay rise? Must you persist until the end of time, you stubborn old soul!" the god of death barked from the scythe's projection. "While I ascended to receive promotions and celestial salaries, and even touched the outskirts of heaven, here you are, still loitering in hell. I've been awaiting your demise, yet here you stand, undying. How much longer must you linger, man? It's been 1,800 years! Why haven't you joined the clergy by now? Tell me, how many more centuries must I wait to get my hopes up?"

He added with a grimace, "Also, you've really let yourself go, haven't you? Could you perhaps revert to your less gruesome form for this conversation?"

Lance, once a promising new recruit under the god of death's command, had proven himself exceptionally adept. His business acumen was unmatched, allowing him to easily dispatch the most challenging bounties hell had to offer.

Now marking the centennial of Lance's tenure as a 'Trainee Death God,' his feats remained unparalleled in the hell.

By the three hundredth year, he had commanded the highest salary ever offered to a death trainee. Fast forward to the six hundredth year, and Lance had become the longest-serving trainee in the entire continent's history of death disciples.

And now, in the seven hundredth year, the god of death himself was paradoxically yearning for Lance's death, an extraordinary apprentice whose potential succession he had anticipated for over a millennium.

"I've longed to promote this outstanding 'Trainee Death God' and elevate him to my own rank, to take over my burdens," the god of death lamented, the spectral tears on his cheeks reflecting his frustration and the absurdity of his unending wait.