Chapter 28: History Greatest Lie

The First Rulers were peak SSS+ ranked beings. More than ten of them, recorded in history. They weren't just humans—dwarves, elves, dragons, beastkin—all gathered at Morvath Vigil. How did he survive that kind of assault?

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His wings spread, casting an even larger shadow across the forgotten chamber.

"Those cowardly little bugs… they betrayed me," he growled.

"Betrayed?" I echoed, confused.

He leaned in. I could feel the weight of his ancient hatred pressing down on my soul.

"I was never evil," he said coldly. "Yes, I destroyed cities. I slaughtered armies. But I was not the mindless beast your tales paint me to be."

His tone darkened, not with rage—but with something else. Memory.

"I was the most knowledgeable being in this world. The elves came to me, begging for insight into mana. The dwarves sought me out for secrets of metal, forging, innovation. Even humans and beastfolk came, asking how to grow stronger, how to conquer their limits."

"And yes," he continued with a smirk, "I crushed those who annoyed me. So what? The strong rule this world. And I was the strongest."

I said nothing. He wasn't finished.

"Then one day… they came begging. The Rulers. Asking me to slay the one they called the Void Sovereign."

My breath caught.

The Void Sovereign.

The shadow behind the Dark Forces.

A being cloaked in mystery—unseen, unknown. Feared by all.

"I was intrigued," Nochtarion said, voice softening into nostalgia. "They claimed he was stronger than even me. So I accepted their plea. I went to face him… and it was glorious."

"He was the strongest foe I had ever fought. Our battle tore through the skies, ripped the land apart. We clashed for days—maybe longer. But in the end… he fell."

He paused.

"I was about to deliver the final blow when they turned on me."

His voice became venom.

"Those treacherous worms. They used me. Dwarven tech, Elven mana—crafted to seal my darkness. Even the other dragons betrayed me."

He snarled, the very air around him trembling.

"But they forgot one thing."

The projection leaned forward, eyes blazing.

"I am Nochtarion—the Strongest Dragon to Ever Exist."

"Even without my affinity… I slaughtered every single one of them. Humans. Elves. Beastkin. Dwarves. I watched their faces as they realized the truth—realized that not even betrayal could stop me."

His breathing slowed.

"But I was wounded… deeply. So I came here, to rest."

He spread his wings wide. The shadows shifted behind him.

"What you see now… is not my body."

"It's a projection. A whisper of my presence.

"So you're going to die?"

I asked, my voice low, uncertain. My thoughts were in disarray.

He looked down at me with those glowing, ancient eyes—eyes that had seen civilizations rise and crumble, gods fall, and legends twist into lies.

"I've spent thousands of years in this cursed sleep," Noctharion rumbled. "Not by choice. The Void Sovereign's attack left wounds even I couldn't heal. If those traitors hadn't stabbed me in the back, I would've crushed him, recovered, and returned to the skies. But they didn't just fight me—they sealed me. Robbed me of my power. My body… it lies deep beneath the Morvath Vigil, slowly decaying. What you see now is but a fragment—my will given form."

I clenched my fists. The truth unraveled before me like torn banners in the wind. The legends were wrong. The tales… lies twisted by fear and shame.

"So the stories," I whispered. "They weren't true. They said you were evil, mindless… that you devoured everything."

A deep, bitter chuckle echoed from his spectral form.

"Of course they did. History is written by the victors, and the dead cannot speak."

His voice was laced with scorn. "Once, the world came to me. Elves for knowledge of mana. Dwarves for secrets of metal and flame. Humans for strength. Beastkin for honor. I gave, I taught, I destroyed only those who challenged me. Was that so wrong? Power rules this world, little one. The strong decide what is right."

"But then…" he said, eyes narrowing, "they feared me. Envied me. When the Void Sovereign rose, they came, begging me to fight him. Said he was a threat beyond comprehension. I agreed—not for them, but for the thrill. The Void Sovereign was... formidable. Our battle shook the heavens. I would've won."

He paused. The cave felt colder, darker.

"But as I was about to strike him down… they attacked. Elves, dwarves, dragons, beastkin, humans—all united in treachery. They feared me more than him."

I stared, stunned. Ten SSS+ ranked beings, the mightiest rulers, all turned against one dragon. And yet… he still stood.

"They sealed my affinity, bound my power. But I am Noctharion—the First Shadow, the Bringer of Destruction. Even bound, I slaughtered every last one of them. They died screaming. Not one believed I could kill them without my darkness… but I did."

His voice lowered. "But the damage… was done. I hid here, my true body broken, waiting for the end. Until you came."

"I have spent thousands of years in slumber," Noctharion said, his voice echoing like thunder trapped in a cavern. "Not to recover… but to await my eternal sleep."

The ancient dragon's eyes, glowing like molten gold, stared into mine.

"The Void Sovereign wounded me. Gravely. Had they not betrayed me, I would have healed. But they did. Those insects—those traitors—struck me down when I was weak, when I had just defeated the one they feared."

His words shook the air. My thoughts were a storm.

He… was betrayed?

"Until you came," he said, and his gaze pierced through me like a spear of shadowed truth.

My mind reeled. Everything I thought I knew—everything written in the histories, spoken in the legends—was a lie?

"So the stories... they're false? Twisted?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He gave a bitter chuckle.

"Of course they are. History is not truth. It is written by those who survive, those who stand on corpses and write their own version of justice."

He looked away then, into the shadows of the cavern, as if seeing ghosts of the past.

"After I fell into slumber, broken and bleeding, they rewrote the tale. I became a monster. A threat that had to be put down. Not the savior who fought the Void Sovereign for them. Not the being they begged for help."

I clenched my fists. It was too much to process.

"This is the truth of the world," he said. "Whether you are just or cruel, wise or savage—it doesn't matter. If you're weak, you will be crushed. And if you're strong, they will fear you, envy you... and eventually, betray you."

He lowered his head, his massive body barely a silhouette now.

"I am the living proof. Even I was not safe."

The silence hung heavy between us.

"And to answer your question..."

His voice rumbled low, like the last tremor of a dying storm. "I was going to die."

"I've spent thousands of years in this very space, sleeping. Waiting. But I could never recover. Not from that wound."

His eyes dimmed—old flames flickering in a ruined temple.

"The cursed technology they used on me— something beyond even dwarven craft—sealed my darkness. Without it, I couldn't regenerate. So I hid here, buried myself in silence, and waited for time to erase me."

I stared at him, unable to speak. A creature once feared by gods, reduced to this?

"But now... now, I'm truly on my deathbed."

A sharp crack echoed in the distance—mana peeling through the air like splitting ice.

"The excessive mana I've released over the years… it's grown unstable," he muttered. "This place is saturated with it. It's become a living thing—wild, ravenous. The moment my will breaks, it will lose control."

He looked up, and for the first time, I saw it.

Not madness.

Not rage.

Just weariness.

"When that happens… this entire space will explode. Nothing will remain."

This was it.

The answer I'd been searching for.

The truth behind the destruction of Morvath Vigil.

They said it was a dungeon explosion. A collapse caused by mana imbalance.

But they were wrong.

There was no dungeon.

No monsters.

Just… death.

The death of an ancient dragon—the last of his kind.

A silent catastrophe. A storm that had already passed.

A being so powerful… even his final breath became a calamity.

I stared into the dark, trembling.

"So this… this was the sign," I whispered.

Not an invasion. Not an attack.

A warning.

That the oldest, strongest, and most wronged creature in the world… had finally died.

And with him, Morvath Vigil had fallen.

Only a being of his stature could wipe out an entire fortress just by dying.