Chương 364: Memory of Damnation

(At the same time(Drago POV)) High above the countless shelves of Irea's Royal Library, within a spacious office overlooking the city, an old man sat alone. Stacks of reports, military records, research papers, and official requests covered nearly every inch of his desk. His old eyes swept across the pages with incredible speed, tracing every sentence, every figure, every insignificant detail.

Despite the mountain of paperwork before him, each document lasted only moments beneath his gaze before being placed onto a growing finished pile. Drago read at a pace no ordinary scholar could hope to match. A book that might occupy another person for days could be finished by him in minutes, yet the papers before him carried far greater weight than any book ever could. They decided the fate of Irea... or a part of it at least.

Eventually, he lowered the quill in his hand and leaned back with a weary sigh, his gaze drifting toward the office window.

'They must be deep inside the forest by now.' His fingers absently tapped the armrest.

'They should be fine. I've walked those woods myself. As long as they never reach... that place... everything should proceed smoothly.' His thoughts lingered there until the polished black quill between his fingers caught his attention. For a brief moment, it reminded him of something else entirely. Something he had spent countless lifetimes trying to forget.

"... Murderer." The voice echoed softly inside his mind. Drago slowly closed his eyes. When they opened again, the office had vanished. An enormous dragon towered before him, its scales blacker than obsidian and forever stained with dried crimson blood. Eight colossal horns spiraled backward from its skull like a storm frozen in motion, while rows of uneven, blade-like teeth filled a maw large enough to swallow buildings whole. Its eyes were dead. Yet somehow... They still watched him. Drago's expression hardened.

"... Would you shut your damned mouth already?" The dragon didn't answer. Instead, the world around him dissolved into fire and ruin. Cities collapsed beneath burning skies while children cried and warriors died. Entire civilizations vanished beneath oceans of flame as every memory born from a single creature's rampage returned once more. Dagon. The dragon slowly raised one enormous talon and gently pressed it against Drago's forehead.

"You failed." Its voice rolled through the world like a divine judgement.

"Your failure killed them. You are a monster. You do not deserve the happiness you seek." Drago met the dragon's lifeless gaze without fear. Only resentment. He raised one hand. Reality shattered. Dagon's flesh exploded into torrents of blood before peeling away from his skeleton in grotesque ribbons until nothing remained but gleaming white bones. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. Yet the voice continued.

"The boy will die... just as your daughter did." Something inside Drago snapped. His eyes widened.

"No." His hand slammed forward. The illusion disappeared. The office returned. His desk did not. The hardwood had split cleanly in half beneath the force of his unconscious strike. Ink bottles rolled across the broken surface before tumbling to the floor, where they shattered in dark pools around his chair. Drago remained perfectly still.

"... He won't die." His voice barely rose above a whisper.

"I won't allow it." Silence reclaimed the room. After several moments, he exhaled slowly.

"... When will you finally stop haunting me, Dagon?" His eyes drifted toward the ceiling before settling on another face. Vale.

"... You've been through far more than anyone your age ever should." A faint smile appeared.

"Kealix would've been proud of you." His expression softened even further.

"I know I am... Father of Flaws." The title echoed quietly through the empty office. Drago had known from the moment they met. Vale was the one he had spent centuries searching for. The Father of Flaws. An existence so fundamentally imperfect that no external force could ever fully perceive him. A being rejected by every absolute law, a god incapable of wielding divinity. When Drago finally found the legendary Father of Flaws, he hadn't discovered an ancient hermit or a forgotten king. He had found...

A seventeen-year-old boy. A child who was somehow less human than everyone around him...... and yet infinitely more. Vale possessed a soul too vast to be measured, too unstable to harmonize perfectly with any Plane. Every power rejected him. No blessing would obey him completely, no authority would ever truly belong to him. The only things left to him were effort, technique...... and Nirvana. Drago slowly raised one hand before his face.

"... Nirvana." Closing his eyes once more, he looked not upon flesh, but upon the essence beneath it. The structure of his own soul. Unlike Vale, there was no pain or backlash. His soul had become so impossibly dense that it resembled polished crystal more than spiritual energy, nearly solid after millions of years of refinement. Very few beings still living could rival him. And still...

"You killed them." Dagon's voice returned. Drago closed his eyes.

"... Enough." Ignoring the voice, he instead glanced toward the strange device fastened around his wrist. Soft lights pulsed gently across its surface.

"It seems your vitals are stable." A faint smile returned.

"The wound to your abdomen is healing quickly... Good." The smile faded.

"Tell me, Dagon."

"You've been dead for millions of years."

"So why do you continue haunting me?" Nothing answered for a long time. Then the dragon finally spoke.

"My death was born from your weakness. I remain because that weakness still exists. I will watch. I will wait. And one day..."

"... you will abandon your pathetic restraint."

"... You will become what you truly are."

"The rightful heir of Destruction." Drago laughed quietly.

"You misunderstand. The heir of Destruction was never me. It was you. I am merely a humble servant of the Storm Plane." A booming draconic laugh echoed through his mind.

"So that's the lie you tell yourself? To ease your conscience?"

"You may deny it all you wish... but your storms have claimed more lives than my jaws ever did."

"You are no servant. You are a coward. A pitiful coward." Silence followed as Dagon vanished once more. Drago leaned back into his chair. Dagon... The heir of Abbynerr, the Mother of Dragons. The Founder of Destruction herself. A being destined to inherit one of existence's oldest authorities. And yet... He had died. Not before another dragon. Not before an ancient god. But before Drago. Why? Was he simply stronger? Had Dagon allowed himself to die? Even now, Drago couldn't answer.

Time had stolen too many memories. Millions of years had blurred together until entire eras became indistinguishable. Only two faces remained clear. His wife. And his daughter. Thinking of them filled him with warmth. They were alive. Somewhere. He believed that. He had to. Yet beneath that hope lay an endless abyss, because he also knew he could never see them again. Not after what happened. Not after his failure. He didn't deserve that happiness.

"Creator above..." He laughed bitterly.

"... I sound like such a selfish old bastard." His thoughts drifted once more.

'How old would she be now?' He quietly counted the centuries.

'Almost... five hundred and five.' The thought made him smile despite himself.

"... Children really do grow up fast." For several peaceful moments, he simply enjoyed the rare silence inside his own mind. Then, BANG! The trapdoor leading into his office slammed open.

"DRAGO!"

"I brought drinks!" A bronze-haired man marched confidently up the staircase with two bottles tucked beneath one arm.

"Come on, old friend! We should celebrate young Vale finally leaving!" Siegfried reached the top of the stairs before stopping mid-step. His eyes slowly swept across the office...... then settled on the remains of Drago's desk. He blinked.

"... What in the world happened here?"