Reincarnated Lord: I can upgrade everything!

Chapter 508: Formidable Talent

“Yoma was the largest of all continents, an untamed cradle of life and magic, brimming with creatures we called dragons. There were drakes with ironclad hides and volcanic breath, hydras whose multiple heads could regenerate faster than blades could sever, basilisks with petrifying gazes that turned entire battalions into stone. Wyrms that tunneled through the earth like serpents of ruin, arctic dragons with breath colder than death itself, and coatyls, serpent-like sky lords wreathed in radiant feathers and storms. The skies and land of Yoma were theirs… yet above all these, ruling supreme, were the Perfect Dragons, beings of such sublime purity and power that the world itself bent to their will. Among them stood one above the rest: Saelix, the Mother of Dragons.”

Kingmaker’s gaze darkened, his voice a low tide of sorrow and wrath.

“She was the mother of flames, of manipulation… and, ultimately, of corruption. Her hunger was never for land, it was for dominion over the hearts and wills of her kin. One by one, she seduced and enslaved the Perfect Dragons and all lesser kin. Under her fell vision, Yoma’s fertile plains and mystic peaks were scorched and twisted into a desecrated ruin, a continent of burning skies, weeping stone, and endless torment. And then… she turned her gaze outward, to the two other continents that still breathed free.”

He turned, his eyes catching the weight of a long-forgotten memory as they settled on the crown-helm resting upon its stand.

“But I Am, in divine fury, intervened. With wrath like a thousand storms, He banished Saelix and with her, the entirety of the continent of Yoma. Cast it from the known world and into the void beyond all oceans. That lost land became what you now call… the Abyss.”

The silence that followed was heavy, reverent. Then Kingmaker continued, his tone sharpening with a blend of reverence and regret.

“The Godblood came after Yoma’s exile, blessed beings born in a new order. Their ships danced upon the sea, as they built a great nation on Tenaria. They brought with them wisdom, ambition, and a harmony with the Old Ones of their land, who were not beasts nor monsters, but sages of ancient truths. For a time, they thrived. Their unity was a light in a world recovering from ruin.”

His voice dropped into a solemn cadence.

“But even in exile, Saelix had not vanished. Somehow, some way, her influence stretched its tendrils across the ether and reached Tenaria. I believe, no, I know, that she was sought after. Curiosity, greed, ambition… something cracked open a rift. Through that tear, her will seeped like poison. Malrath, the mighty king of the Godblood, became ensnared by her whispers. Her promises. Her forbidden gifts. And so, in time, he allowed her corruption to take root within Tenaria. The Old Ones, the wise, noble, ancient stewards of that land, were twisted, defiled. They became the Dark Ones. The first of the fallen. The harbingers of what Saelix and her dragons themselves had become after their banishment.”

Asher, Sapphira, and Katarina stood in stunned silence, the foundations of their world cracking beneath the weight of truths too old for scrolls, too painful for legend.

Kingmaker’s tale had peeled open the skin of history and revealed the churning, festering truth beneath, a world that once was, and the poisoned roots of the war that now consumed them.

He drew in a slow breath, as if conjuring the image of the fallen king.

“Malrath… was a marvel. A titan among mortals. His skin shimmered like burnished gold beneath the sun, his long white hair cascading over sculpted muscles that seemed hewn from divine artistry. Even among the Godblood orcs, he was an anomaly, born of strength, wisdom, and flawless form. He studied under the Old Ones, drank deeply from the wells of ancient martial knowledge, and became a master of the greatsword. None rivaled his blade, none dared challenge his will.”

Kingmaker’s voice dropped to a whisper, reverent and mournful.

“But even the greatest can fall. His quest, noble in its beginning, led him to Saelix. And she… she found in him her perfect vessel. A king of gold and glory, twisted into a weapon of ruin. One who would carry out her will. One who would not be stopped.”

A bitter smile crept across the dwarf’s weathered face, the weight of a long-buried memory surfacing like an ancient beast stirring from slumber. He hadn’t meant to speak of it. He had locked it away, sealed behind decades of silence—but something about the white-haired man standing before him, unaware of the storm his presence stirred, drew the truth out of him.

“And truthfully,” he began, voice grating with a blend of sorrow and reluctant reverence, “Malrath could not be stopped. Under the unyielding will of Saelix, he led his vast and terrible army into Eden. A great war was waged, fierce, unrelenting, and soaked in the blood of many. But still, he conquered. He broke our resistance and brought us to our knees. My brother, was forced to craft a crown in Malrath’s honor.”

He paused, the ache behind his eyes betraying the pain of remembrance.

“However…he whispered the truth to me. That crown, it was no symbol of servitude. It was a door. Only the Forgefather could gather the scattered aspects of the world and shape them into such a thing: a crown that, if torn apart, would open the true gate to the Abyss realm.”

The dwarf gave a short, mirthless chuckle, the sound echoing with bitter irony.

“Fortunately, I Am intervened once more. The Godblood was banished into Yoma, to be imprisoned with the one they chose to serve. The Creator may desire Boundless to function on its own, but time and time again, we creatures have driven it toward destruction, leaving him no choice but to act.”

His voice dropped, heavy with consequence.

“Eden was severed from Tenaria. Though it still exists within Boundless, it became hidden, veiled from the eyes of all. Only a chosen few are granted passage to it now. You newer races were created with limitations, unlike the Ancients. Becoming an Awoken Ones causes your death. All of you. All… except you.”

The dwarf turned to face Asher directly, eyes narrowing with meaning. “I heard you were searching for me. I haven’t walked the soil of Eden in many years. I journeyed beyond it, in search of a weapon more profound than my Kingsword.”

He stepped forward, clearing his throat as he looked up at the towering man before him. His eyes, though dwarfed by Asher’s size, burned with a strange clarity.

“You are I Am’s chosen. I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you that. But he has given you the greatest talent ever bestowed upon any being, a gift that may yet restore Boundless to what it once was.”

Asher’s brows furrowed. “The talent of Kryos?”

The dwarf gave a quiet laugh. “Kryos is indeed a wondrous talent… but it is a mere ember beside the fire you carry. You, my boy, are a marvel. Your true gift hides behind your ability to commune with your ancestors. In its fullness, you are a living miracle, a bridge between the mortal and the spirit realms, between the living races and the Old Ones.”

His voice grew reverent, almost hushed.

“You can unite them all. Call forth the dead and the living, warriors, kings, champions from every age, to rise and fight under your banner. That is your true talent. It defies classification. It transcends ranks. And so, it conceals itself… quietly growing, evolving with the tides of fate.”

He placed a firm hand on Asher’s arm.

“You will need to summon those long departed, men greater than yourself, convince them, or compel them, to fight at your side. It is no easy feat. In the spirit realm dwell many more skilled with the blade than you. There are noble houses that still thirst for the fall of House Ashbourne.”

The dwarf’s tone turned grim, yet determined.

“But if you truly wish to change fate, you must unite them. Tear open the gate yourself. And march into hell.”

“What?!” Sapphira and Katarina gasped in unison, their eyes wide with disbelief.

Asher, however, only exhaled deeply, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. “He’s right. If they bring the fight here… I die. But if we take the war to them, on our terms, then the outcome changes.”

Kingmaker raised a single, calloused finger. “Only if you go with the lords of both the spirit and mortal realms. Only with the Old Ones of Eden at your side do you stand a chance against Malrath, Saelix’s general. As for Saelix herself… no being has ever stood against her and lived to tell of it.”

He let that truth settle before finishing with a gruff breath.

“I’ve told you all you need to know. As for me, I wandered the spirit realm in search of a blade, the Conqueror’s Sword, Ithamar. I thought it lost to that world. But now… I’ve discovered it’s here.”