Reborn as a Devouring Dragon with a System-Chapter 103: Desperation of the Dragon Eater

"Ah, Aurithon... you old dragon... why can’t you just give up!?"

The Dragon Eater roared, thrashing violently across the scorched earth, writhing in agony. Every inch of its colossal body screamed with pain.

"Did you think I wouldn’t prepare for your Dragon Eater scheme?"

Aurithon’s voice thundered within the Dragon Eater’s mind, calm yet crushing in its weight. The Dragon Eater growled, its rage mounting.

The crowd looked on in stunned silence, watching the Dragon Eater’s howls of torment echo through the skies.

Their eyes then turned to Drakion’s still form, lying motionless on the ground like a fallen warrior—lifeless, unmoving. Many among them scoffed, shaking their heads. Some, however, smiled with twisted delight. Drakion had dared to defy the Emperors—beings revered as the mightiest on the Origin Continent. Now, it seemed, he was suffering Heaven’s retribution.

Yet, none dared leave. Their eyes remained fixed on Drakion’s body. As a dragon, his flesh was rumored to hold unspeakable treasures. His blood alone could grant them immense power.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept the land. A dark, deathly aura began to pulse from Drakion’s body—growing, thickening, spreading with each breath. The change struck the onlookers like lightning, a wave of silence crashing over the crowd.

"Aaargh!"

A low, guttural grunt burst from Drakion’s form. His fingers twitched. Slowly, he rose, clutching his head with trembling hands. The crowd gasped.

"Aurithon... don’t think you can kill me with this!"

The Dragon Eater roared in defiance, its voice cracking the earth beneath.

"It’s not my task to kill you. Someone else will."

Aurithon’s voice returned, quiet but unshakable.

And then, it happened.

The shattered statue, the ruined palace, and the fractured bridge suddenly began to glow—bathed in resplendent golden light. Sacred energy surged through them as if ancient seals were reawakening.

The Dragon Eater growled, feeling its strength wane. Its power was being sealed—bit by bit, realm by realm.

"What are you aiming for, Aurithon!?" the beast bellowed, fury and fear mixing in its tone.

"You will understand," Aurithon replied.

The golden glow faded. The statue, the bridge, and the palace all returned to their previous ruined states. But the damage had been done. The Dragon Eater’s power had plummeted—reduced to the realm of an Origin Emperor. The humiliation was unbearable.

As it searched frantically for a way to undo the seal, it felt something—an energy. It turned its gaze.

Drakion was standing, eyes cold, locked on the Dragon Eater.

"Oh? Are you the one who’s supposed to kill me?"

The Dragon Eater let out a manic laugh, madness flickering in its eyes. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

"Seems like Aurithon miscalculated. I’ll devour you instead. I wonder what a Dragon Emperor tastes like."

Ding!

—[Host has access to the true power of the Abyssal Devouring Eye for ten minutes]—

Ding!

—[Host has access to the true power of the Devouring Dragon Progenitor Bloodline for ten minutes]—

Ding!

—[Host has access to the power of the Death Spirit. You now control the dead. Duration: ten minutes]—

Drakion heard the notifications echoing from the system. A smile tugged at his lips as he stared at the creature before him.

Without a second’s hesitation, he activated them.

Ding!

—[Activating Abyssal Devouring Eye]—

Ding!

—[Activating Devouring Dragon Progenitor Bloodline]—

Ding!

—[Activating Death Spirit’s Fragment of Power]—

In that moment, something within Drakion shifted—unleashed.

An ancient aura exploded from him, primal and unrelenting. Death energy erupted, cloaking his figure in swirling shadows. The crowd froze. Their instincts screamed. Something primeval had awoken—something not meant for mortal eyes.

The Dragon Eater stared at Drakion, its mocking expression replaced by solemnity. Its pupils contracted. It felt it.

Fear.

Yes, for the first time... it felt fear.

Something ancient—something forbidden—was coming forth.

This transformation lasted only for a few fleeting moments before the Death Mist receded, peeling back to reveal Drakion’s figure.

He had not fully transformed into a dragon—but stood instead in a half-dragon form. Black scales ran down his body in jagged waves, wrapping him in a layer of primal armor that reached to his neck, while his face remained shrouded behind the enigmatic mask.

Each scale shimmered like a miniature Devouring Whirl, absorbing Originat as if the very world were feeding him. His claws—razor-sharp and pulsating with power—gleamed more lethal than any forged weapon. Rising from his head were black horns, arching toward the heavens. The tips of those horns spun with Devouring Whirl energy, pulsing like vortexes of destruction.

But it was his eyes that truly shattered the silence.

They were not Draconic.

The crowd gasped. Even the Dragon Eater froze, stunned.

Drakion’s left eye was a black eyeball, brimming with Devouring Originat, its pupil glowing like a golden halo fang—a mark of divine hunger.

His right eye was the inverse—a golden eyeball with a black halo fang pupil, radiating Devouring Aura.

It was a reflection of contradiction. A convergence of annihilation and supremacy.

The onlookers could not bear the sight. Their bodies trembled, and their spirits recoiled. Just the act of looking at those eyes triggered a primal instinct—they averted their gaze, as though survival demanded it.

When the Dragon Eater saw those eyes, its voice quivered:

"Impossible... how do you have those eyes?"

It was not a question of curiosity, but one of disbelief—dread.

Then it saw the scales.

Its breath hitched.

"Impossible... how can you possess the Progenitor Dragon Bloodline as well!?"

The Dragon Eater staggered backward, overcome by the mounting shock.

"Who are you...?"

Its voice cracked under the weight of the question.

But Drakion remained silent.

Then suddenly—

ROAR!!

He unleashed an ancient, primal roar that thundered across the ruins—so fierce it rattled the soul. The very earth trembled in answer. Buildings groaned. The sky dimmed. The crowd was overwhelmed by dizziness, and many collapsed to the ground in awe and terror.

At the far side of the ruins—where the ancient Skeletons of Dragons lay—bones once scattered and still began to stir. Slowly, deliberately, they turned toward the source of the roar: Drakion.

Their hollow sockets burned with golden light.

Beneath the ground, the dragon souls, long dormant and entwined in the death mist, also stirred. One by one, they turned in his direction.

Then, as though answering a divine summons, both the dragon skeletons and souls roared in harmony—a cry so ancient it split the heavens.

The dragon souls flared, glowing with radiant golden light. Then they surged upward, breaking through to the surface as golden bulbs of brilliance. They floated into the sky, dispersing gently into the air like stars returning to the void.

The Dragon Eater, watching this display of forgotten power, roared once more—this time with desperation.

"Who... are... you!?"