A old friend

Dark purple lightning continually illuminated the grim horizon, striking the desolate land in angry bursts. The sounds of the constant electric discharge filled the atmosphere, an ominous drumbeat that resonated deep within the core. It was a wasteland, a stark testament to the power that lay dormant underneath.

Darius, an old man but by no means frail, trod the land with ease. His movements were confident, each step leaving a minor tremor in its wake. Despite the chaos of the surroundings, there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, like he was on a pleasant stroll through a garden. The wind ruffled his silver-white hair and the sleeves of his lavish robe, but he barely noticed.

A smirk danced on his lips. "This place never changes," Darius muttered under his breath. Darius remembers the good old days when he used to train at this very place, since he got curious and bored with the mundanities of his life, had agreed to help acquire some materials. "It's not every day you got to see a young one with such ambition."

The ground trembled beneath him. As he neared his destination, an inverted mountain rising menacingly from the earth, ten stone golems erupted from the ground. These colossal beings towered over the landscape, at least 70 meters tall, wielding enormous clubs that threatened devastation with every move.

Darius stopped and appraised the creatures with a hint of annoyance. "Really? Must we go through this every time?"

The first golem lunged, its club swinging down with incredible speed for its size. But Darius was unfazed. With a casual upward gesture of his arm, he met the strike head-on. There was no loud collision, no shockwave to send him reeling. The golem's club simply shattered upon contact, fragments shooting off in all directions.

He chuckled, addressing the shattered remains of the golem. "That lizard brain really does love his toys."

The remaining golems paused, seemingly processing the unexpected turn of events. Darius seized the moment of hesitation, thrusting his hand forward. A whirlwind of energy erupted from his palm, swirling and twisting, and within moments, it enveloped the remaining golems, reducing them to rubble.

Darius sighed, the energy receding. "Such a waste. I've always told him not to play with his collectibles."

The sight of the entrance before me doesn't surprise me in the slightest. Magma flows like rivers in various directions, producing a heat that would incinerate any mortal. I shake my head with a grin. "He never listens, does he? Just how many times did I ask him to clean up," I whisper to myself, remembering past visits. The deep pit beckons, and without hesitation, I leap into the center of the spiral, feeling the rush of the fall.

I descend swiftly, watching as odd contraptions, some resembling toys and others mechanisms of great intricacy, fly past. My fall seems to stretch for an eternity. With a yawn, I glance below, bracing myself for the impending warmth. The massive magma creature that resides at the base of the pit stirs as I approach. But instead of attacking, it merely gazes up, hahaha, it seems it doesn't want another beating. He seems smarter than most. I plunge straight through the searing lava, feeling its warmth envelop me, making me slightly sweaty.

When I emerge, I find myself in a vast, cavernous room. The surroundings are all too familiar - the same black and red tones that dominated the place when I visited 35 years ago. I sigh, he has no sense of fashion, just when is he going to remodel this place?

In the periphery of my vision, I notice a slight movement. A young girl, trying to remain concealed, peeks out curiously. Ho ho, I didnt know you had a daughter you old lizard. I give her a knowing smile, letting her know she's been caught, but I don't linger on it. Unfortunately, I don't have time to play games.

Instead, my feet guide me to a door I know all too well. I push it open to reveal an old friend.

Ah, there he is, lounging in his casual robes. The dragon's black and blue hair shimmer under the ambient light, and the patterned tattoo running from his cheek down his neck stands out prominently. "Valthor," I greet with a smile.

"Ah, Darius! It's been far too long!" Valthor grins, revealing his sharp teeth. Without missing a beat, he tosses me a glass filled with a deep amber liquid.

I catch it smoothly, taking a moment to appreciate the rich aroma wafting from the glass. Dragon-made alcohol, truly a rarity and a treat. "Your brews always did have a certain kick to them," I remark, taking a sip.

Valthor exhales deeply, settling into his seat. "Why would a busy human like yourself visit my humble home?" His voice drips with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

I can't help but smirk as I lounge back, placing my feet nonchalantly on his table. "Humble? You call this humble? Your toys are running rampant in your front yard, making quite the ruckus."

The atmosphere shifts palpably as Valthor releases his mana, the temperature in the room dropping several degrees. His tone, icy and sharp, cuts through. "Did you break my collectibles?"

Matching his energy, I release my aura, letting it envelop the room in a vibrant, golden-red hue. "Only a couple," I retort with a challenging grin, "Why? Fancy going a few rounds?"

Valthor's eyes lock onto mine for a long, tense moment. He downs a mouthful of his drink before replying, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "In the old days, I considered you a rival, back when we were both young. But you're a human. Fighting you now... it'd hurt my dignity."

Raising my glass in a mock toast, I retort, "I haven't lost my touch yet."

He looks me over, his gaze piercing. "Why are you here, Darius? Change your mind about my offer? You know becoming a Dragonoid would greatly extend your lifespan."

I chuckle softly, shaking my head. "I was born a human, and I'll die a human. But enough reminiscing. I need some of your blood, old friend."

Valthor raises an eyebrow, genuine surprise evident in his features. "Some of my blood?" He chuckles, the deep rumble echoing in the cavernous room. "My blood isn't child's play, Darius. Visiting another dragon might have been a wiser choice. Surely you wouldn't get involved in such matters personally. What's the occasion?"

Stretching my arms out, I reply with a cheeky grin, "Just a little distraction from my endless boredom. A group of youngsters approached me for some guidance."

Valthor sighs, resting his chin on his hand. "What's the point? These recent generations... only a handful have shown true promise. The world's gone soft. All the young ones care about these days are their politics, not even bothering to explore the vast world."

I burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the cavern. "Hahaha, you're spot on!" Standing up, I saunter over to the shelf, grabbing a whole bottle of the finest dragon-brewed alcohol. "But I've stumbled upon a group that promises to be anything but dull. These kids are bound to wreak havoc wherever they go."

He narrows his eyes, curious. "A new up-and-coming group, you say? What makes you so sure of their potential?"

Tossing a few intricate blueprints his way, I watch as his gaze flits over the designs. "These are well-crafted," he admits, "but they're protected. They've set it up to prevent someone from reproducing whatever this is. It'd take decades of study to produce this, though."

I can't suppress my chuckle. "That's the beauty of it. The group behind these blueprints? Most haven't even seen their third decade. And the head of their operation? Barely 17 years old. Remind you of anyone?"

Valthor's laughter echoes in the vast room, hearty and infectious. "Hahahahaha! It would indeed be a spectacle if someone like that appeared in the world again."

Before I could respond, he grows out a long, sharp nail and slices it across his palm, allowing the blood to drip into a crystal bottle. The viscous fluid is a deep shade of crimson, almost mirroring the surroundings of the cavern. As I extend my hand to take the bottle, Valthor snatches it away, wagging a finger in front of my face.

"Ah ah ah," he chuckles darkly. "I would've let you have it without an explanation. However, since I'm aware of your intent, I need a small favor."

Leaning against a nearby table, I arch an eyebrow, my lips curling into a sly smile. "Of course, Valthor. This is business, after all. What do you require?"

His piercing eyes gaze at me with anticipation. Without uttering a word, he turns on his heel, leading me out of the cavernous chamber. I follow closely behind, intrigued by this sudden shift.

"You should greet our guest," Valthor suddenly declares, his voice echoing through the cavern.

There's a pregnant pause, with no answer forthcoming. Mildly amused, I chime in, "Well, are you not going to greet me?"

I sigh, I guess I'll give her a hand. In a fraction of a second, she materializes out of thin air. She has a cascade of dark red hair, streaked with bright orange highlights that shimmer under the dim illumination. Her eyes are a captivating dark red, their pupils even darker. She's undeniably striking, resembling more of a fire dragon than her father. An image of Valthor's wife briefly flits through my mind. She looks nothing like her father, hahahaha, just his luck.

Caught off guard by her sudden appearance, she blinks in confusion, looking from her previous hiding spot to her current location. Panic sets in, and she leaps back, letting out an adorable yet sharp, "Eeek!"

"Meet Lysandra," Valthor gestures towards the fiery girl with an exasperated smile.

Valthor, seemingly unphased, continues, "As you can observe, she's quite... raw. Lacks the experience and polish."

I stifle a chuckle, glancing at Lysandra. "I can see that."

Apparently not keen on being discussed like she wasn't present, she pipes up, voice dripping with anger, "Stop looking at me old geezer, Im not heading anywhere with a man human that will rot at any second,"

There's a brief pause before Valthor bursts into laughter. "You said your prodigy is 17? They happen to share the same age. I'd appreciate it if you could...drop her off in his care. She needs to form some connections. Though her personality is a tad... challenging."

Raising an eyebrow, I shoot a glance at the fiery-haired girl, who's now attempting to frighten me with her dragon eyes. "And by 'challenging,' you mean she has the subtlety of a demonic creature that's about to evolve?"

The girl suddenly hops towards me, stopping mere inches from my face. "How? How did you force me out? Tell me or I'll..I'll..I'll, I know! I'll torture you."

Shaking my head in amusement, I look back at Valthor. "Fine. I'll introduce her to the group. This should be...entertaining."

Gritting her teeth and glaring with intensity, Lysandra retorts, "There's no way I'll go anywhere with this old man, Father! Look at how weak he is!" A small horn, glowing with a fiery hue of red-orange, sprouts from her head. It's so much smaller than her father's prominent ones - a sign of her youth.

Without any warning, she lunges at me, her horn leading the charge. The room feels charged with tension, but I simply sigh, letting her connect the hit to my chest. As her fist makes contact, small shockwaves ripple around us, causing the surrounding items to rattle. Yet, I stand unscathed, I hope she didn't hurt herself. Lysandra ends up sprawled on the ground, cursing loudly.

"You sneaky geezer! I didn't see that hidden attack! Cheater!" she spits, pointing an accusing finger at me.

I raise my hands in mock defense, "What attack? You're the one who charged."

Valthor chortles, and the room is filled with his amusement before it turns somber. "Good luck with her," he murmurs, as his form disintegrates into a wispy mist, leaving the two of us alone in the vast chamber.

Lysandra pushes herself up, her horn retracting, and glares at me. "What kind of trick was that? Don't think you can beat me with that pathetic display."

I laugh, genuinely entertained. "No tricks here. Just an old man who's had his fair share of brawls. By the way, love the horn. Cute touch."

Her face reddens in a mix of anger and embarrassment. "Cute?! How dare you?!"