Chapter 23: Chaosbringer [1]

The five black stallions came to a sudden halt, their iron-shod hooves scraping against the dry, ash-dusted earth at the mouth of the valley.

Craig sat tall in his saddle, his crimson ceremonial coat fluttering slightly in the hot wind blowing from the canyon.

Behind him, four young horsemen rode side by side, their voices carrying an eager, energetic hum of conversation.

They were his cousins—the four elite vassal prodigies chosen from the family branches to take the trial.

The twin brothers, Makel and Jakel van Darkstar, were the sons of his fourth uncle—the Supreme Commander of the Ducal Military Command and one of Duke Oscar’s most trusted war councilors.

Beside them rode Jaron and Mizuri van Darkstar, the trueborn offspring of his second aunt and second uncle.

"I’m heading straight for the upper ridge," Makel bragged, puffing out his chest with a wide, arrogant grin. "I’m going to bond with a 4th-Tier Dragon today and shatter the historical record set by the third line!"

"Dream on, Makel," Jakel scoffed with a laugh, though his eyes burned with equal determination.

"You’ll be lucky if a 2nd-Tier Dragon even looks at you without trying to roast your boots!"

Jaron and Mizuri chuckled, both gritting their teeth as they adjusted their leather sword belts, declaring their own resolve to claim a powerful beast.

Craig excluded himself from their chatter entirely. His golden eyes were fixed straight ahead on the entrance to the sacred domain.

The gateway to the Temple of Dragons was a terrifying sight.

A massive archway carved from dark obsidian, framed by the towering skulls of long-dead draconic behemoths whose hollow eye sockets seemed to glare down at any intruder.

SNORT!

Suddenly, all five stallions winced, their eyes rolling back in sheer terror.

The mounts froze in place, their legs trembling uncontrollably.

No matter how hard Makel or Jaron dug their heels into the stirrups, the horses refused to take a single step forward.

The suffocating, abyssal pressure leaking through the threshold was far more terrifying to the beasts than the commands of their human riders.

They would not move an inch further.

Recognizing that the mounted journey had reached its absolute end, Craig dismounted cleanly from his stallion.

Without uttering a single word to his cousins, he adjusted his single steel sword at his waist and stepped past the threshold.

The four vassal youths quickly jumped off their horses and hurried behind him.

By tradition, the Temple of Dragons was a sacred, heavily guarded sanctuary, monitored daily by the elite knights of the Duchy.

Today, however, not a single guard was stationed at the perimeter. The massive obsidian archway was not built to keep intruders out.

It was an ancient boundary stone warning mortals of the horrors dwelling within.

The trial was absolute.

The candidates were provided only a standard iron blade.

No enchanted armor, no protective barrier charms, and no Guardian Knights to step in if a beast decided to tear them apart.

They had to rely entirely on their own strength, resolve, and luck to pull through.

The moment Craig stepped five meters into the domain, a faint, sharp smile touched his lips.

BZZZZT!

He could feel it immediately—a dense, oppressive atmosphere saturated with volatile Abyssal mana that threatened to corrupt and devour the mind of any ordinary human.

For his four cousins, entering this domain was an agonizing struggle; they immediately slowed their pace, gritting their teeth as they mobilized their internal energy to suppress the corrosive, heavy air.

But for Craig, it was entirely different.

His Divine Draconic Physique hummed within his chest.

Regardless of its chaotic Abyssal origin, raw mana was nothing more than high-grade fuel to his body.

Instead of repelling the environment, his pathways greedily absorbed the ambient energy, circulating it into pure strength.

He walked smoothly through the heat haze, surveying the staggering landscape before him.

Despite its name, the Temple of Dragons was no building—it was a sprawling, subterranean mountain range covering over a hundred square miles, roughly the size of a small city.

Ten active volcanoes towered across the horizon in five distinct directions, spewing pillars of black ash and glowing embers into the sunlit sky above.

SCREEEEEECH!

A deafening, sharp roar shattered the heavens, echoing off the basalt crags.

Craig tilted his head up.

Soaring high above the volcanic peaks was a massive blue dragon, its massive, scaled wings spanning fifty meters across as it effortlessly sliced through the thermal updrafts.

"Wow!" Mizuri van Darkstar gasped, his eyes wide with absolute awe. "Isn’t that... Myrax, the Soaring Empress?"

"Yeah, it is!" Jakel replied, craning his neck. "I heard that’s the bond beast of the Third Young Master!"

As they spoke, two more winged dragons burst through the sulfurous clouds, their sleek crimson scales gleaming as they swooped down in a soaring aerial dance.

Craig observed the beasts with an indifferent expression.

Dragons were true Children of the Abyss—highly intelligent, ancient abominations possessive of terrifying magical authorities.

Yet even among their kind, an absolute hierarchy existed.

Myrax, the Soaring Empress, was a proud 3rd-Tier Dragon, while the two smaller dragons dancing beside her were 2nd-Tier beasts.

Even a newborn 1st-Tier Dragon was far superior in combat power to a standard 1st-Tier Abomination.

Unlike low-tier abominations that were merely mutated by mana radiation, dragons were born directly from the ancient Abyssal rifts.

Within this vast volcanic mountain range, clutches of dragon eggs were laid, hatched, and raised.

Given that seven hours was barely enough time to explore a fraction of this vast landmass, Craig knew he had to separate from his cousins immediately.

"I’m heading north," Craig murmured calmly.

"We’ll take the southern valleys then," Makel said, gesturing to his twin brother.

Jaron nodded, turning toward the central rift.

"Mizuri and I will check the eastern volcanic crags. Good luck, Seventh Young Master."

Without another word, the group split up, each moving toward their chosen paths.

Craig walked steadily toward the dark northern ravines.

In standard Darkstarian lore, a member of the bloodline could only ever establish a bond with a single dragon in their lifetime.

Once forged, the dragon would serve its master until death, and because dragons were fiercely prideful creatures, no abomination would ever accept a master who already carried another contract.

At least, that was what the world believed.

As Craig ventured deeper into the northern canyon, more and more dragons perched along the high basalt cliffs turned their heads.

Large, reptilian eyes locked onto his solitary figure.

Suddenly, three young 1st-Tier dragons swooped down from the rocky ledges, flapping their wings frantically as they landed in the ash ten paces ahead of him.

They nudged their snouts forward, letting out soft, low chirps, aggressively fluttering their wings as if desperately begging him to choose them.

Craig stopped dead in his tracks, his brows furrowing in utter bewilderment.

"What in the world...?" Craig muttered, staring at the eager dragons. "I thought dragons were fiercely prideful beasts? Why are they rushing toward me like overeager hounds?"

It wasn’t just the 1st-Tier young dragons.

High above on the crags, several fully-grown 2nd-Tier, 3rd-Tier, and even a massive 4th-Tier iron-scaled dragon were craning their heavy necks down, their golden eyes burning with an undeniable, desperate reverence as they watched him walk.

Craig’s initial surprise quickly faded as realization struck him.

’The Divine Draconic Physique...’

His body had been reshaped by the blessing of the Ancient Dragon God.

To these prideful Children of the Abyss, Craig didn’t smell like a human master—he radiated the primordial authority of an absolute apex draconic sovereign!

Before he could process the thought, a translucent cyan panel suddenly flickered open directly before his vision.

Ding!

[ Proximity Resonance Detected. ]

[ Four young dragons and three adult dragons are actively requesting to form a Soul-Bond with the Host. ]

[ Available Soul-Contract Capacity: 0 / 3 ]

Craig’s heart skipped a beat, his breath catching in his throat.

"Available contracts: 3?!" Craig gasped, his fingers tightening around his sword hilt. "Does this mean my physique allows me to bond with up to three dragons simultaneously?"

The sheer tactical advantage of such a revelation was mind-boggling.

If he returned from the Temple of Dragons with three distinct dragons bound to his soul, the entire Duchy—and the Imperial Capital—would be thrown into utter chaos.

However, Craig quickly shook his head, suppressing the surge of excitement. He could not let himself be distracted by these eager, lower-tier dragons.

He was here for a very specific, legendary calamity.

Somewhere deep within the northern volcanic rifts slept a mysterious, gigantic crimson dragon.

In five years’ time, if left untamed, that abomination would violently break through the Temple’s spatial seals, escaping into the wild to become a terror known across the Western Continent as the Almighty Desolation Dragon.

Craig was here to claim it before anyone else even realized what it was.

’It should still be nesting in the deep magma trenches at this exact point in the timeline,’ Craig thought, accelerating his pace as he bypassed the begging dragons and pushed deeper into the northern ash storms.

Right now, that abomination was classified as a dangerous, uncontrollable 5th-Tier Dragon.

But in twenty-five years, when the second Apocalypse reached its absolute peak, that very same creature would ascend into an 8th-Tier Calamity.

Chaosbringer!

***

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