Forged By The Apocalypse - A LitRPG With Draconic Potential

There were a few things I wanted to do before I died, and that list was growing by the day. It used to be filled with mundane things like each at certain restaurants, seeing certain bands and the like. I always wanted to skydive, but the allure was somewhat cheapened by both the sights I had seen and the fact that I could actually fly now. If I wanted, I would take myself into the clouds and then let go.

The new additions available since the System came to Earth were a little more eccentric. Some were, of course, still simple. I wanted a defined armour set. I had to decide on the weapons to lock into my mastery skill. I needed to fill out my Aspects, a process sure to be more interesting after what I had just done. Grab lightning and use it as a weapon? It could happen. Defeat the Storm Dragon? It’s on the list. However, I recognised that some of those things required a run up.

So, I would cut my dragon slaying teeth on Cavarix, the Rot Dragon. The existence which faced me down, smashing and chasing after me while the changes within my magic settled, was far more terrifying than its rotten outer body. Within the dreamscape, I was not the only one able to control my form, and the resplendent dragon’s furious assault was beautiful as much as it was deadly. Black scales which glittered with almost imperceptible colours, iridescence hidden in the gloom and violet eyes that held only hunger and contempt.

Bone-white razors swiped past my face. I couldn’t let myself be distracted. I didn’t know what would happen to me if I lost here, but I wasn’t planning to find out either. Slowly, my sluggish mana started to act, allowing me to catch more and more breathing room from Cavarix’s attacks. Whatever I had done to my Dao had affected my whole system, like an arm that had fallen asleep. I was shaking the stiffness from the channels as best I could, but I was grateful when the energy finally reached the point where I could use a skill.

The pathways were a mess, so I didn’t want to brute force anything, but an opportunity presented itself quickly to test whether my magic would work here. A massive tail swept through the air at the same time I jumped. Clever girl.

Tempest form.

I took the blow, holding onto the tail and expending as much mana as felt safe. The elemental nature of the ability made blunt damage far less effective, and by billowing out energy, I acted like a taser. There was a violent amount of satisfaction within me as she began to scream in pain and frustration, unable to remove me even as she swiped at her own tail. My grip slipped slightly as the prehensile limb flung back and forth to dislodged me. Right as she aimed to smash me into the floor, I let go. Somewhat weightless in this form and mostly made of air, Air Manipulation was able to send me even higher.

While Cavarix looked for me, I took stock of my arsenal of skills. Tempest Form was available, and I could feel the pathways for Mana Bolt and Blast being repaired. Having the chance to so closely watch the reconstruction of the skills was a gift all in itself. When I used Tempest Form, the skill had activated quicker and the effects felt more pronounced. Though it could be the strange liminal space we were in, those slams should have hurt more but the damage negation aspect of Tempest Form was heightened.

I was excited to see what I could do with the rest of my skills as they began to work again.

———————————————

It was beyond an insult.

Cavarix supposed she couldn’t blame the Tree for being vindictive, but she had always been told it held no will of its own. The crown council pretended they decided the course of things, but Yggdrasil did as it wanted, the dragon knew now. It grew as it pleased, focused resources on areas it chose and it created personalised hells for those who slighted it. Only such an answer would explain the strength of this human.

She had been winning. She could feel that the boy had been close to breaking, another few simple minutes had remained before his mind was turned to ash. Impossibly, the child had grasped at his Dao blindly and come away with a dagger. He had separated himself somehow, and then convened with the System itself. As if she needed more proof that she was being targeted.

Perhaps it was their whole group, but Cavarix didn’t care about the others. Only Mortesax was worth her attention in the end, the rest of them falling to the defenders of the accursed arbour before she and her rider arrived at their destination. At the edge of existence, they had carved their mark into the bark of the immemorial Tree itself, forever scarred. The fact it held a grudge was both frightening and a little relieving. To have so much power and be truly unknowable was intimidating, but revenge? Revenge was something Cavarix knew all about.

She would start a campaign of vengeance from right here. After she destroyed the vestige of the boy’s soul which fought so fiercely, she would take his body. She might even complete the Elite dungeon she had been placed within. If she was ever going to see Mortesax again, that would be the way. Rather than distracting herself with fancy, she focused on finding the little gnat. He had vanished, and then killed his mana, so his presence was impossible to find.

It had been a long time since Cavarix relied on actually seeing her enemies to destroy them, however. Her physical body was decayed and stupid now, so it couldn’t remember the process to spawn destruction, but her mind here was sharp. A bulge appeared in her throat, blowing up like a balloon quickly. So what if the boy was hiding? This would find him.

A dragon’s breath is more than a physical assault, and its presence within their lives is sacred. The breath is not used with abandon, employed only in moments of true need or rage. Sometimes a thing needed to be scoured with as much prejudice as possible. The ancient dragon consoled herself by deciding this use was the latter. The idea that she would be pushed by a mortal was ridiculous, after all.

She had named her ultimate attack Corroding Breath of Foetid Unlife. It was one of the shortest true names for a breath weapon amongst any of her kind, a mark of respect. As a dragon ascended in power, or Grades, as the System arbitrarily gated, they removed a word or two from the poetic sentence or poem the attack had started as. She could still remember when it had taken her a while to unleash the attack just due to its name. Naturally, A dragon does not “spew,” “belch,” or otherwise debase themselves to use their breath.

They command it, speaking it into existence. The world around them breaks itself to follow their order. As Cavarix demanded that the astral space she had been pulled into bend to her will, she couldn’t help but smile. This was a paltry excuse, but she did love her magic. The last time she had used this attack was to make way for Mortesax’ lance. The memory filled her with glee. She would see him soon, she knew. They were inside the boy’s soul, and she had just set it aflame with rot.

Her magic would tear him apart without her having to lift another claw.

———————————————

Resisting the urge to spew very choice expletives and give myself away, I braced against the ravaging my spirit was undergoing. Unable to use half of my skills still, there had been no way for me to mount a defence. My soul burned with rank and filthy fire, vicious and agonising. If it weren’t for the changes my soul worlds were undergoing, I had no doubt this would have shattered my Dao in a way I would not have liked.

The pain was ghastly, but I grit my teeth to avoid the worst of it. Unavoidable it may be, but I didn’t doubt a more direct attack would be unavoidably lethal. I could survive pain. In fact, I welcomed it to a point. I was risking death for each moment longer the ability took to heal, but I had been able to govern the process somewhat. I didn’t know if it was even technically the same skill anymore after what I did to it.

The attack came with a new name. If I were to name the changed ability within my altered pathways of mana, I would probably still have called it Retribution. The System was more flamboyant than myself, apparently, but the ability was more than its previous state so I wasn’t surprised by the change. Traditionally, once an enemy had hurt me or something I considered mine in some way, I could unleash an attack their way. The attack would always be around the same strength, whether it was a light slap on my cheek or a removed limb.

Figuring out that limit had been a terrible afternoon.

It had also bothered me, so I fixed the issue I had. The damage inflicted upon me was stored directly in the skill now, instead of being used to simply activate it. It meant that the activation requirements had changed to mostly myself, but once those conditions were met? Every pinch of pain inflicted upon me would be returned in kind. Surviving up to the final moment was becoming more and more common for myself, so this was a weakness I was glad to fix.

I felt my spirit erode under the force of Cavarix’ breath. Attempting to find the zen safe space I had when under this kind of attack previously, I searched for the office I had created but could not find it. Avoiding the dragon’s perception was the most I could manage with my control of the space. Actually creating an office again would be too overt, risking Cavarix’ attention and therefore my life.

Each breath was a handful of blades right through my throat, filling my lungs with poison, but still I held my tongue and coughing fit. It wasn’t enough yet. “Come out, child.” With an uncomfortably human voice, Cavarix purred her words even as a flame of black, touched at the edges with ashen grey light continued to billow from her mouth. “No struggle is worth this pain, surely. Release yourself, and be free of it.”

Rather than break me, the dragon’s words made it easier to hold on. If you’re bargaining, then you’re in a weaker position. While the phrase wasn’t always true, I placed all of my bets on it. The dragon was using strength she didn’t want to use performing this attack. Strength which could be used to defend against me if not otherwise expended… The question then became which of us was more stubborn.

I was willing to play that game all day.

———————————————

Cavarix’ pride as a dragon was on the line. It had been from the start, but she hadn’t realised. By taking this child lightly, she had put herself into a tenuous situation. She could, and would, blame the System for placing her in front of a once in a billion potential but the failings in action were her’s. Her coaxing and taunting had done nothing, to the point she was beginning to fear she had made an even bigger mistake.

Was it possible that she had been tricked, and that this wasn’t actually the boy’s soul?

The insidious thought started a chain reaction of logic which forced Cavarix to cease her assault. The pain from such an attack would turn any but the most tempered soul into a gibbering, feral mess. She should have been attacked by the mindless form of the brat’s psyche by now. That such a thing had not happened suggested a mistake. She was no fool, though. Perhaps, even, the boy was already dead and she had been expending energy for nothing.

She stopped the attack and pressed her will against the flimsy shell around them. How silly it would be if she had done damage to the container because she had been excited. As chunks of the colosseum fell away, and the darkness beyond it appeared. Her friend. Cavarix crawled towards the rend in the dream space and tumbled through, happily falling into the night sky.

It was only as she remembered there should be no night sky that she realised she had been played. There was a calmness within her as she realised she lost. Maybe she never had a chance to start with. She had been hindered and handicapped by the System in various ways, maybe all of them were to let this boy win. She wouldn’t know. She gazed at the incredible soul of the boy and found that she wasn’t upset she hadn’t destroyed it. For a Grade One, this was miraculous. She looked behind her, to the gathering power that bore down like a hot sun.

“Good luck, child. May you burn the tree as you discover its secrets.” Cavarix whispered, mostly to herself. She didn’t care if the boy heard her prayer, nor would it matter if the young man did as she hoped. There was no freedom from the System, in any case. Her death met her, and she rode into the face of it snarling a warcry against the brutal, uncaring Tree which had them all trapped.

One day, the message she and Mortesax carved into its bark would be the target for a universe shaking axe swing. She faded back into the System’s memory banks, to be used once more when the Tree decided to punish her again. Despite that, despite the blank blackness she had been shunted to, Cavarix laughed. In the void dark, she howled with laughter until she cried. “Grant Kaeron, was it?” She asked, burning the name into her memory before it could be allowed to fade.

“Good luck, child,” Cavarix repeated, her final wish as her consciousness disappeared into the unending flow of death that fed the Greater Connection.