CHAPTER 1: CHAPTER 1 - THE BLACK DRAGON.

A hand holding a figure by the throat—that’s what he saw.

The figure, however, had no face or features. It was just a writhing, pitch-black silhouette that snarled without a mouth.

It struggled, claws and tendrils lashing out uselessly, yet he felt no pressure or pain.

’This dream again?’ He thought in his head, his voice calm, almost bored.

It was the tenth time today. Every time, he would have the same dream.

However, unlike normal dreams, where one could move around like they wanted to, this was different.

No matter how many times he tried, in this dream, he could never control his body.

It was as if he were an observer given the premium seat, which was from inside the body, as everything he saw was in first-person POV.

In the end, he shook his head (mentally, of course) and turned to stare at the scenery around him—a canvas of cosmic devastation.

’It looks good no matter how many times I see it.’

The stars drifting around, broken and dim, their brilliance fading into the cracks of dead space, were a sight to behold.

Yes, it was destruction, but it was still surprisingly enchanting.

The colorful nebulas were flowing like rainbows in the starry space. The crash of universes, responsible for uncountable deaths, still looked like a blooming stellar flower.

However, despite the undeniable beauty of the scenery, an unanswered question always remained in the back of his head when he saw it: just how many beings must’ve died?

It was but a curious question, yet it remained unanswered because, as said before, he couldn’t control his body to even ask that question out loud.

Surely, the thing—the being—in his grip must be undoubtedly strong. Terrifyingly so. It was clear from how the space around the entity was twisted by its mere presence.

But he—whatever he had been in that moment—was stronger.

To be able to hold that entity in his grasp like a headless chicken, he had to be stronger.

Just then, the entity within his grip shifted.

’Is it time already?’ Wondering, he recalled what was going to happen. He had seen it enough times to remember every little detail of what was going to happen.

’You can kill me now,’ he muttered inwardly, and the figure in his grip—

"You can kill me now," the faceless being hissed, speaking the exact same words, voice a strange fusion of whispers, echoing like memory through water. "But I will come back again."

’Now, it’s my turn.’

The moment that thought appeared, his body moved without his will, his grip on the entity tightening, making it choke.

Then, his own voice echoed through the abyss, powerful and absolute.

"No matter how many times you do it..." His lips moved, and he watched as if through a screen. "I will come to kill you."

’Hah...’

As soon as the scene finished, he sighed as, the next second, everything went blank.

...........

When his eyes opened again, the scene he saw before him was the reality he was more used to.

The chirping of the birds and the rustle of wind through the leaves—he could hear it all. Above all, he could control his body and could easily tell that it wasn’t someone else’s body but his.

"Shorter again," he muttered, his golden, serpentine eyes blinking slowly.

The dream had ended again, sooner than last time.

At first, on day one, the dreams had been longer. More visions, more faces, and more people.

Now... only that final scene remained.

Would it vanish altogether soon? He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or... something else. After all, these dreams were the only form of entertainment he had.

But then again—who was he, the one he becomes in the dreams?

Even that remained a mystery.

"Maybe that was... me?" He wondered aloud.

He flexed his clawed hand, fingers wrapped tight around an invisible neck as if trying to recreate the pose he had seen in his dreams. But no matter how many times he tried, it didn’t seem right.

A scoff followed. "No way."

His hands were huge and clawed, covered in obsidian scales so dark that even sunlight failed to brighten them. Rather, they absorbed the light.

The hand he saw in the dream, however, was made of flesh, and it was pale.

With a sigh, he lowered the claw and looked down into the clear pond below.

Staring back was a huge dragon, at least fifty meters in length.

Dark black scales covered his snout, angular and gleaming like obsidian.

He had four golden horns curved backward on his head, giving him a majestic look. His eyes were golden and slitted, seemingly peering through any secrets the universe held.

He could see beyond what should’ve been visible—from a bird flying high above to a tiny stalk of hay dangling from its claw—when he had first opened his eyes.

He was a Dragon, not a man like the one in his dream.

He sighed, feeling as if the clue he got about his past had vanished. The only things that could tell him who he was were those dreams, but even those were now getting short.

"Today was probably the last day," the dragon muttered as he predicted this dream wouldn’t repeat.

He sighed again, creating gentle ripples across the pond’s surface.

Ten days.

It had been ten days since he’d woken in this place, ten days alone.

All he had done these few days was eat and sleep.

Yes, that was all he did.

Not because he couldn’t move from here but because he was way too lazy.

As for what he ate, well, the forest was filled with a variety of animals, so all he had to do was grab the one closest to him and eat it.

And although ten days might not seem like a long time, for him, who knew nothing about anything, it was a very long time, especially when he had no one to talk with.

In ten days, his life kept getting boring.

He realized that although he was lazy, he also craved adventure and thrill.

To not feel bored, he had tried talking to the beasts he had caught, but none of them replied. They tried to run, trembled, or simply vanished at the first glimpse of him.

In the end, they served a simple purpose, sating his hunger.

Now, he didn’t bother trying to talk.

What was the point? They would just run away from him. Again.

He slumped back onto the ground, his head resting on the soft moss next to the crooked tree bending slightly over the lake, as he folded his wings at his sides.

The ground trembled as his head fell, making the tree rustle above him as the filtered light danced across his scales.

"What I would give to hear someone talk to me..."

His golden eyes drifted shut once again. Not from tiredness but boredom.

’I’ll search for someone tomorrow. I’ll try to fly tomorrow—’

It was a tomorrow that never came, as the past nine days had all been such tomorrows. But he still repeated those words as if trying to motivate himself to move.

After all, his laziness never let him move if there was no certainty that he might find someone who could talk.

That was the only reason he hadn’t moved until now.

Because he wasn’t sure if this world even had beings other than dumb beasts.

But before he could complete his thoughts—

[Unknown lifeform approaching.]

—A voice echoed in his head.

He didn’t flinch, though. He didn’t even blink.

Not because he wasn’t surprised—he was.

But not because of the voice, as the voice... The voice was his own instincts.

Not a friend, not an ally. Certainly not something he could converse with.

It was simply there, existing within him like breath or heartbeat.

Not born from thought or logic, but raw, primal intuition made manifest. It never gave explanations. Never reasoned. It only informed—a nudge from his ultimate draconic instincts.

He blinked slowly without lifting his head, his golden eyes still staring at the stale water of the pond beside him, while the wind rustled the tree above.

"...Probably another deer," the black dragon muttered dryly, almost disappointed. "Or a boar. Maybe that same dumb bird from before."

The voice, however, spoke again.

[Unknown lifeform is closing in.]

The voice he heard was emotionless and lacked urgency, but the dragon frowned, slitting one eye open and glancing toward the trees at the far edge of his clearing.

He could still remember that the last time he saw the same words flash before his eyes, a large bear had wandered into his territory.

At that time, the dragon had nearly leapt with joy. A bear, a beast smart enough to speak?

He’d lowered his head, let his wings droop, and tried to look harmless and inviting.

But the moment the bear had seen him... it had bolted. Sprinting like its tail was on fire, crashing through the underbrush in panic.

The whole encounter had lasted five seconds.

He hadn’t even gotten to say ’hello.’

So now, he didn’t rise, and he didn’t hope. Whoever it was, they’d probably run too.

Still... his eyes trailed to the treeline.

And then, his instincts spoke again.

[Unknown lifeform will reach your location in 10 seconds. Speed and trajectory indicate a direct approach.]

His heart stilled.

’What?’

This was new.

None of the other animals had approached directly. Even the bear had wandered around, as if lost, before it came across him, but this one seemed to be heading straight toward him.

"Will I finally get to talk to someone?"

Hope, which was like a poison, sprouted in his mind as his head rose, staring in a particular direction.

He hoped and prayed that this time—at least this time—it wasn’t a vain hope, or else...

"I will destroy this forest and fly to some other place."