CHAPTER 100: DECAY OF A THOUSAND AGES

The ward had gone silent again.

The echoes of his roar could still faintly be heard in the air, like invisible scars burned into the walls.

Noah sat cross legged on his bed, his body calm now, his shadows drawn back into the corners like patient predators waiting for his command.

His breathing was even, and for the first time since he woke, there was no trembling in his hands.

He had delayed this long enough.

With an exhale to calm his nerves, he whispered the command.

"Status."

It was time to see just what had shocked Arlo.

The familiar translucent screen blinked into existence before his eyes, the golden letters shimmering faintly as they hovered in the air.

[Status:]

[Noah Webb]

[Race: Dark Dragon]

[Rank: FFF]

[Potential: FFF]

[Affinities: Darkness, Fire, Void, Decay, Hunger]

[Core Attributes:]

[Strength: FFF]

[Endurance: FFF+]

[Agility: FF-]

[Mana Capacity: S]

[Magic Control: S]

[Skills: Roar (FFF-Rank), Dark Furnace (SS-rank), The King’s Dominion (SS-rank), Decay of a Thousand Ages (SSS-rank)]

[Spells: Fireball (F-rank), Flame Spark (FFF-rank), Devour (B-rank), Rot (D-rank)]

Noah’s eyes widened. His throat worked silently.

Three new skills.

Two shining with the impossible light of SS-rank. And one... a skill of the highest tier. SSS-rank. The kind of skill even legends and kings would kill for.

His mind spun. His hands curled into fists.

How?

Then the realization came crashing in. The torture. The endless nights bound in chains, drowned in Osiris’ cursed spell. The agony of his soul burning again and again. His terror, his desperation, his fight against death itself.

That crucible had forced him through the barrier. Not once. Not twice. Three times.

He had achieved Overdrive.

And all the while, the cuffs had bound him, choking his mana, locking him in ignorance. He’d had no idea.

His lips twisted into a grin, but there was not a single trace of humor in it.

But reality set in quickly. He could feel it in his bones. His body wasn’t ready. If he tried to use one of those skills now, his muscles would tear, his bones would shatter, and his soul would splinter beyond repair.

He would need to ascend. Slowly. Carefully. Each rank would forge his body stronger, until he could bear the weight of his own power.

But there was another way.

Devour.

The B-rank spell pulsed at the edge of his vision, dark and hungry. With it, he could consume strength, steal endurance, and build his attributes piece by piece. If he used it carefully, he could make himself strong enough to wield what he’d been given.

Noah exhaled slowly, before focusing on the first new skill.

Its details blinked into existence.

[Dark Furnace - Summons a miniature singularity wreathed in flame, pulling enemies in before incinerating them in compressed fire.]

The image alone made his grin widen. A black star of fire, dragging in his foes, crushing them together before igniting them in its death throes.

Perfect for when he was surrounded. Perfect for when he wanted to turn the battlefield itself into a grave.

A deranged chuckle left his lips as his shadows howled in ecstasy. And there was even more to come!

He moved to the second skill.

[The King’s Dominion - Shatters magical seals, barriers, enchantments, and even wards, feeding on their power to fuel the Dark Dragon’s next attack.]

Noah chuckled again. A low, dark sound.

This skill was more than a weapon. It was control. Every barrier, every shield, every clever spell his enemies tried to hide behind, he would not only break them, he would consume them.

Their own mana would become his weapon. Their protection would feed his destruction. Fitting.

Finally, he turned to the last. The SSS-rank skill.

[Decay of a Thousand Ages - Accelerates time’s corrosion in a radius around the wielder, causing metal to rust, stone to crumble, and flesh to wither instantly. Works on magical constructs as well.]

For a moment, even Noah was silent.

This wasn’t just a skill. It was annihilation. An aura of death that ignored armor, ignored wards, ignored time itself. The ultimate equalizer. The breath of the end.

But it was also beyond him, for now. He could feel the truth of it deep in his core. His body wasn’t ready. Even touching the edges of that skill would destroy him from the inside out.

Still... he leaned back against the wall, his smile thin and sharp. If he endured. If he climbed. If he used Devour as his ladder.

One day, that aura would be his to unleash. And on that day, there would be nothing in Camelot, nothing in this cursed world, that could stand against him.

His fingers brushed the coins still scattered on the floor. Insulting trinkets from those who had abandoned him.

"Decay of a Thousand Ages." Noah whispered softly, tasting the words like it was a delicious poison.

Soon.

Very soon.

Camelot would crumble.

Noah bent slowly, his body still weak. He gathered the coins that lay scattered on the floor, one by one.

When he was done, he placed them carefully on the table beside his bed.

The whispers in his ears grew louder, threading through the corners of the ward.

Some urged him to scatter the coins again, to crush them, to melt them into nothing. Others whispered of patience. He listened, eyes half-lidded, until the voices became a single current in his mind.

Plans.

Yes. That was the answer.

He leaned back on his bed, folding his arms, letting his thoughts crystallize.

First, there was Cecilia. His lips curled faintly. The Princess herself. She had risked herself for him, dragged him out from under Osiris’ heel. He would use that.

He would reveal his potential, and make her believe he was the wounded prodigy, the hidden genius who had endured, who could now bloom under the Academy’s care.

The Academy had resources he could never gain alone. He would drink deeply of them, until there was nothing left to take.

He’ll study, learn, and grow.

While he played the obedient student, he would lay the foundation of his revenge.

His hand drifted to the coins again, fingers brushing over their cool surfaces.

Monoliths. That was the key. The world was filled with them. The sealed realms crawling with beasts infused with affinities.

His affinities. Darkness. Fire. Void. Decay. Hunger. Each one a door waiting to be opened. Each one a stepping stone.

Devour would do the rest.

He imagined it. The creatures writhing as their essence became his, as he stole their spells, their instincts, their strength.

He would collect them, one by one, stacking them inside his veins until the day came when his body was ready.

Ready for the furnace. Ready for the dominion. Ready for decay itself.

And then, the apocalypse.

He closed his eyes. The word itself sang inside him.

He would not simply burn Camelot. He would unravel it. He would rot its stones, devour its wards, tear its kings and mages down until all that remained was ash and ruin.

They would see him as they had made him. A monster born from their cruelty.

The shadows hissed their agreement, crowding close, their voices overlapping in a chorus of bloodlust.