Reborn as a Devouring Dragon with a System-Chapter 78: Saving the Dragon Soul

"Are you okay?" Drakion asked, his gaze falling to the woman in his arms.

But the moment he saw her face—everything inside him froze.

Anger surged like wildfire through his veins.

His eyes darkened.

"It’s you."

Veins pulsed across Drakion’s face—thankfully hidden beneath his mask. He felt the overwhelming urge to strangle the figure before him. Deep down, he wished she wasn’t real—wished she wasn’t truly there.

And who was this person who stirred such wrath in Drakion?

The one who had carved the darkest scar in his memory—the Wolf Girl, the one who had once roasted him for food.

Despite the bruises that marred her body, and the absence of any wolf aura, there was no mistaking her. That black-silver hair... those eyes filled with killing intent, yet utterly devoid of emotion.

He could never forget that face.

ROAR!

The Dragon Soul charged, its fury ignited by the interruption of its hunt—even in its mindless state, rage prevailed.

"Shut up." Drakion’s voice cracked through the air like thunder as he released his full Draconic Aura. A monstrous wave of pressure descended upon the Dragon Soul.

Something ancient stirred within it.

Fear.

The beast froze.

Like a cat cornered by a lion, it dared not move, cowed by the sheer weight of the aura pressing down on it. Meek. Broken.

The young woman, still unaware she had been saved, glanced around, her voice soft, dazed. "Is this hell? Looks exactly like the place I died..."

Drakion frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied her weary expression.

"No. You’re still on Origin Continent. You can’t die yet—you’ve got debts to pay," he said chillingly, his tone cold enough to draw goosebumps.

The woman blinked.

Suddenly, clarity returned to her eyes. She quickly jumped away from him, clenching her fists and fixing her cold, killing gaze upon Drakion.

"Who are you?" she asked, not daring to look away from him.

"Someone who just saved you from the jaws of death," Drakion replied, his voice sharp with disdain—but inwardly, he muttered, "How I wish I hadn’t."

She followed his gaze and finally saw it—the Dragon Soul lying like a broken husk on the ground.

Her guard lowered.

"Thanks... for saving me," she murmured, reluctant but sincere.

"You’re welcome—and not welcome," Drakion snorted, turning his attention away from her.

He eyed the Dragon Soul. Even though he had withdrawn most of his aura, only the faintest trace remaining, the soul-beast still trembled—clearly sensing it.

"Devouring Ocular Art: Devouring Eye."

His eyes gleamed, vortexes of dark power spinning in their depths as he examined the Dragon Soul with intensity. He scoured every inch of it, seeking something—anything—but all he found was death aura, drowning its essence, corrupting everything.

"Hey, what are you doing?" the young woman called out, confused by the way he stared at the corpse like it was some kind of twisted artwork.

"Don’t disturb me," Drakion growled.

As he tried to disengage the Devouring Eye, something flickered—a golden glimmer, so faint that most would never notice it.

His breath caught.

"Hey, Drax... what’s going on?" Drakion called out to his spectral companion, describing what he saw.

The young woman, overhearing him, snorted softly but remained close. Though she should’ve left, she didn’t. She knew the danger of this place.

And now, she understood something else.

Drakion had defeated the Dragon Soul. That meant he was far stronger than her. Following him might be her best—perhaps only—chance of survival.

Drax appeared, hovering silently as he listened to Drakion’s words. When he heard everything, he fell into a brief silence. Then he turned to Drakion, his expression unreadable.

"It seems there’s a way to make the dragon pass on—without killing them."

"What do you mean? How can we do that? They’re completely covered in death aura, embodied by it!" Drakion complained, frustration flaring in his voice.

"You’re just dumb right now," Drax sighed.

"What are you saying?" Drakion snapped, snorting in anger. "I just said the death aura is—?"

It was then a spark of realization lit his eyes. He turned to Drax, who gave him a confirming nod.

Drakion returned his gaze to the Dragon Soul.

"Well... better than doing nothing."

He stretched out his hand.

"Devour."

A swirling Devouring Vortex exploded from his palm, a black spiral of hunger that began to strip the death aura from the dragon’s soul. The young woman watched in stunned silence, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at Drakion.

As the death aura poured into him, it writhed—ready to rampage through his body—but the moment it sensed certain auras within him, it calmed, subdued, and sank into the Origin Nexus in silence.

Drakion continued absorbing it, drawing in every last trace until the Dragon Soul was completely purified. But the next moment, his brows furrowed.

The dragon lay still.

Dead.

"...It seems it didn’t work," Drakion muttered, shaking his head. Drax let out a quiet sigh beside him.

As a dragon himself, it was painful to witness a fellow kin unable to pass on peacefully—left to wander, killing without purpose. He had tried. But it seemed death was the only mercy. And death meant erasure of the soul.

Drakion turned to leave—only to freeze.

A golden radiance erupted behind him, bursting with divine intensity. The young woman stumbled back, stunned by the sacred brilliance.

Drakion turned slowly.

The Dragon Soul now blazed with golden light. A majestic, righteous aura surged from its form—an aura worthy of a true dragon.

For a long breath, Drakion stood still.

A faint smile curled beneath his mask.

"Hey! What did you do?!" the young woman gasped, eyes shimmering with stars, overflowing with curiosity.

Drakion instinctively stepped back. "What are you still doing here?" His voice held genuine surprise. He had expected her to be gone long ago.

She scratched her head awkwardly. "Well... I’m scared to walk out there alone."

"Scared? Aren’t you a cultivator?" Drakion snorted.

"I am, but... I’m weak. Against a dragon like that? If I run into a group of them, I’m dead." She gave him a pitiful look—puppy-eyed and all.

"Well, that’s none of my business. Leave. Now," Drakion said, his tone chilling, dismissive.

"Oh, but how did you do that?" she asked, trying to change the topic with practiced ease.

"Go ask Google," Drakion scoffed.

"Google...? What’s Google?" The young woman tilted her head in confusion.

"Be asking jamb questions," Drakion muttered, ridiculing her.

Just then, the Dragon Soul’s eyes snapped open. It turned to Drakion, and its voice, reverent, echoed in the air.

"Greetings to you..."

"Ahem, no need for that," Drakion interrupted swiftly, cutting it off before it could say more. He was confused—how did the Dragon know? But his eyes flicked to the young woman, and in that moment, the dragon understood. It gave a small, knowing nod.

"Let’s discuss this somewhere else," Drakion said, stepping away from her.

He had already devoured the death aura here—there was no longer any risk the dragon would turn mindless again.

After separating themselves from the young lady, Drakion conjured the Devourer Barrier, setting a veil around them that muffled sound and blurred their figures from view.

When the young lady saw this, she snorted.

"I wonder why he’s hiding like that."

Still, she didn’t dare stray far. Fear kept her close—right beside the edge of the barrier.

Meanwhile, Drakion stood before the Golden Dragon, his gaze unflinching.

"Greetings to the Dragon Emperor," the Golden Dragon said, bowing in reverence.

Drakion’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"How did you know that I’m the Dragon Emperor?"

Confusion stirred within him.

"It’s your aura—that dominance, that overbearing pressure... It’s what only a Dragon Emperor can exhibit," the Golden Dragon answered, voice calm but firm.

Drakion blinked. How had his aura revealed that? He decided not to dwell too much on it—for now.

"How did you all get massacred like this?" Drakion asked, voice sharp.

"I don’t remember much of the battle—only fragments," the Golden Dragon replied, his voice heavy.

"But what I do remember... is the fear. The enemy made us feel fear—utter, consuming fear."

"Enemies?" Drakion questioned, sensing something deeper.

"No, Dragon Emperor," the dragon said, his voice dropping low.

"It was only one enemy. Dragons like me couldn’t even process what was happening before we died."

The next moment, the dragon’s body began to glow faintly.

"Dragon Emperor... it seems my time is up."

"That single enemy... was the one who massacred thousands of us. We never saw it coming..."

The Golden Dragon let out a final sigh, filled with quiet sorrow.

"How do I get to the next place?" Drakion asked.

The dragon’s fading voice echoed softly,

"Go west..."

And then, the Golden Dragon erupted into a burst of golden light, scattering into the surroundings like stars on the wind.

Drakion watched silently, a faint smile hidden beneath his mask, raising a hand in farewell.

But the dragon’s last words lingered.

One enemy. Just one.

A single being had wiped out an entire dragon clan.