The True Prime

🔥 Scene I – The Summoning of the Dragon Tribes

The skies over the Forbidden Vein had not seen war in millennia. But the breach—an obsidian wound tearing through the heavens—unleashed the first screams of the end.

Standing atop Ignivar, his flame-bound wings lighting the sky, Alter raised his sword skyward. He didn't need to speak. His soul did.

A pulse of will shot through the air like a heartbeat from the planet's core. Across the Forbidden Vein, the leylines resonated. One by one, ancient thrones stirred.

In the Cryospire, frost cracked and ancient dragons opened their sapphire eyes.

In the Flamewomb Cradle, molten rivers roared to life as fire wyrms rose from slumber.

In the Skydancer Peaks, the wind screamed as feathered wyrm-lords unfurled their wings.

Deep within Titan's Marrow, the stone trembled with the awakening of the Earthblood Guardians.

Six great Dragon Lords—sovereigns of each ancient tribe—heard the call.

They gathered in the skies, wings casting shadows across the mountains. None spoke of alliance. None questioned the order.

For the first time in a thousand eras… the dragons gathered for war.

Scene End: The sky above the Vein is filled with roars and wings. Six Dragon Lords encircle Alter—ready to fight. The drums of ancient war begin to beat again.

⚔️ Scene II – First Strike: Dragons Against the Rift

The demon host poured from the rift in wave after wave, their bodies forged from smoke, bone, and twisted flame. The air stank of void rot and hatred. Screeches tore at the nerves like rusted blades.

Ignivar was the first to strike.

With Alter riding atop him, he dove like a comet into the vanguard of the demon horde. Infernal Wake blazed across the sky, cutting a burning path through the swarm.

Around them:

The Windborne Legions whipped through the air like blades of living air, slicing demon wings clean off.

The Earthshakers crashed into formations below, turning demon hosts into molten craters.

The Frostwrought Flight sealed entire segments of the horde in glaciers that shattered on impact with flame.

The six Dragon Lords unleashed powers not seen since the Age of Flame:

Elarion, Warden of the Stormcoil, summoned a spiraling maelstrom that swallowed an entire host.

Vael'Thurn the Emberdeep, oldest of the fire-blooded, scorched the sky red with his breath.

Cryndara of the Eternal Hollow, the ice sovereign, froze even time around her claws.

Together with Alter, they pushed the demons back to the edge of the rift.

Scene End: Victory seems within reach. The first three waves of the invasion are shattered. The dragons roar in triumph—but something deeper begins to stir in the Rift.

😈 Scene III – Emergence of the Six Grand Demon Generals

The rift began to churn.

The skies darkened once again—not from storm, but from the summoning of something far worse.

Six titanic figures clawed their way into the world, each one heralded by a scream that warped the laws of the Vein:

Dreg'thar, Maw of Plague – his breath rotted trees before it touched them.

Zauruul, Lord of Endless Teeth – a serpentine titan of hunger that swallowed wyverns whole.

Khel'Zirith, Mistress of Agonies – wings stitched from dying prayers, her laugh a plague.

Vorlac, The Entropic Abyss – wielded time as a weapon, aged dragons mid-flight.

Ma'Kar the Butcher Sun – pulsed with an aura that burned without fire.

Ezriel, The Chained Judge – broken but still divine, wielding judgment stolen from heaven.

The dragons reeled.

Each of the six generals commanded legions of their own, and where they landed, reality fractured. Wounds that bled stars, ground that whispered lies—madness followed them.

Alter and the six Dragon Lords charged.

One by one, the dragons coordinated:

Wind against Plague.

Flame against Hunger.

Ice against Agony.

Stone against Entropy.

Light against Judgment.

Darkness against Despair.

Each clash was a battlefield of its own.

Each victory came at terrible cost.

Scene End: Four demon generals fall—slain through overwhelming power, sacrifice, and combined might. But two remain… and their true purpose has yet to be revealed.

💀 Scene IV – The Sacrifice and the Birth of the Demon God

Ezriel and Ma'Kar turned toward the Rift.

Their bodies began to split.

Their legions fell to silence.

Alter's eyes widened as he recognized the signs—not retreat. A ritual.

"Stop them!" he roared.

But it was too late.

They offered themselves—bodies, souls, authority—to the Rift. A blinding pulse detonated outward, knocking dragons from the sky.

And from the black heart of the rift, it stepped forth—

A Demon God, born of annihilation and fused creator fragments. Cloaked in unraveling time, eyes forged of collapsed stars, it towered as if made of forgotten history.

Creator Authority: 38%

Even the Dragon Lords staggered under its presence. The air warped around its breath. Mountains bowed. Space screamed.

⚔️ Scene V – The Heavens Break: Final Battle Against the Demon God

The sky was no longer sky.

It had become a canvas of unraveling laws and collapsing truths. The moment the Demon God emerged, the heavens twisted inward—clouds bent into spirals that dripped backward, and starlight bled sideways through the air. Gravity snapped in erratic pulses, and time fractured into glass-like veils.

Creator Authority – 38%

A presence that should not belong in the world of dragons.

It hovered motionless above the battlefield, cloaked in entropy, with a lattice of twelve radiant rings spinning slowly behind its back—each one humming with a stolen law of reality.

Every beat of its wings tore seams in space.

Every breath redrew the sky.

Alter stood atop Ignivar, staring up into a world that defied all logic. The Dragon Lords encircled the Demon God in a great skyward formation, forming a spinning cage of power and will.

To the north, Cryndara of the Eternal Hollow, queen of frost and silence, glided like starlight.

To the east, Elarion, Lord of Thunder, sparked with electric fire.

Westward, Zephraelle, storm-hawk of the high winds, circled in tight aerial spirals.

Beneath, Thaurmokk of the Earth Veins, soared impossibly—held aloft by his mastery of gravitational inversion.

South, Kael'dros, the crystal wyrm, shimmered with refracted light like a diamond sun.

And above all, Vael'Thurn, the First Flame, flared golden-red—a burning crown in the uppermost sky.

They locked the god in a six-point aerial crucible.

Alter gripped both blades. The storm was his. The sky was his.

And this monster—

"Doesn't belong in it."

💥 First Clash – Gravity Fails, War Begins

The Demon God made the first move.

It raised its skeletal hand—and with no sound or gesture, tore gravity in half.

Up became down. Down became forward. The Vein trembled.

Dragons spiraled uncontrollably for a moment before catching themselves.

But Alter launched.

Ignivar roared and exploded in flame, hurling Alter skyward with a burst of Infernal Wake. Alter vanished into the air, flipping once—

"Divine Heaven Sword Style –

Form I: Sky Piercer – Sacred Horizon Split!"

He sliced through the sky itself. The slash reached the Demon God's chest—cutting through two rings and staggering the monstrosity back.

But it didn't falter.

Instead, it detached one of its rings and flung it outward like a disc.

The ring expanded into a loop of paradox, devouring light, sound, and mass.

Alter twisted midair—but had no footing.

That's when Cryndara dove beneath him.

"Go," she said, offering her back.

Alter stepped on her frost-crystal spine and leapt again, pivoting midair.

"Divine Heaven Sword Style –

Form II: Starfall Breaker – Celestial Descent Fang!"

Both blades dropped like thunder, carving through the ring, splitting it into mirrored halves. The Demon God recoiled, one more halo breaking under pressure.

🔥 Second Clash – Reality Shatters, Dragons Hold the Sky

The Demon God spread its wings.

From its body, a pulse of anti-causality erupted—changing everything it touched into what it might have been.

Elarion was struck—his right wing aged ten thousand years in an instant and crumbled into lightning ash.

Zephraelle faltered as the air around her refused to carry lift, flipping her body into a spiral of shattered wind.

Thaurmokk slammed upward, correcting the battlefield by inverting local gravity fields, anchoring dragons back into the sky.

Alter bounced from Kael'dros, then Zephraelle, then launched into a backflip from Elarion's smoking back.

He spun through fire and landed on Vael'Thurn's nape, crouched like a falling star.

The fire dragon roared and launched him toward the god again.

"Demon God Killing Martial Arts –

Form XIV: Heaven Severing Pulse!"

He slashed in an X, both blades igniting with fire and chaos. The air imploded behind him. The Demon God raised a shield of refracted possibility—but Alter's blades tore through it.

A massive wound tore open in its shoulder.

🌩️ Third Clash – The Mid-Air Foothold Assault

The dragons began to rotate.

Each one shifted their position, flying in a synchronized orbit around the Demon God, offering Alter mid-air footing. A battlefield born in flight.

Cryndara created an ice platform midair.

Kael'dros surged upward with crystalline spires erupting from his back.

Thaurmokk pulsed gravity bursts that propelled Alter in sudden directions.

Zephraelle warped wind pressure into invisible steps.

Vael'Thurn left pillars of flame in his flight trail.

Alter danced between them.

He darted from wing to back to burst—each movement timed with a dragon's roar.

"Divine Heaven Sword Style –

Form VI: Radiant Edge – Ninefold Reversal!"

He spiraled, nine times, slashing in orbit. Rings of light carved through the Demon God's abdomen. One halo shattered. Another cracked.

But the god struck back.

It extended a claw and ripped a law from the air—a strip of golden text.

Then it hurled the law at Alter:

"That which strikes me… shall strike itself."

Alter met it with fury.

"Demon God Killing Martial Arts –

Form XV: Still World."

Time froze.

The law hovered midair, unread.

The dragons stilled. The god paused. Only Alter moved.

He slashed through the law, rewriting the outcome.

Time resumed.

The law exploded. The god screamed.

🕯️ Climax – The Final Sacrifice

But the Demon God retaliated—harder, faster, crueler.

A wave of conceptual backlash burst from its spine.

Thaurmokk shattered from within, his gravity collapsing in reverse.

Cryndara froze herself and the god's tendrils, buying time—before being consumed.

Elarion laughed once more as he fired a final thunder arc, and vanished into smoke.

Kael'dros fractured midair under a burst of inverted light.

Only Vael'Thurn and Zephraelle remained.

They soared past each other.

"Now!" they roared in unison.

They collided into the Demon God's flanks with full force—igniting their own cores in a self-sacrificial blast.

The god's body cracked. Halos shattered. The sky dimmed.

☄️ Ending – Form XVIII: Creator's Banishment

Only Alter remained.

His armor was gone.

His blades, broken.

Ignivar flew beside him, one wing barely holding.

They locked eyes.

"Let's finish it."

Alter raised his final blade—burning with the fragments of every dragon's gift.

"Form XVIII.

Creator's Banishment – Sovereign Burying Star."

The Vein itself pulsed. A beam of pure sovereign will burst from the blade.

He struck—

And the Demon God's core cracked.

Then—

shattered.

Silence.

The colossal form of the Demon God Vaer'Zhul crumbled like an eclipse falling from the sky. Its roar died as the very concept of its existence unraveled. Time, form, divinity, immortality—all devoured in one final strike.

Alter floated mid-air, surrounded by glowing motes of light. His body trembled, muscles twitching from the strain. Blood ran down the side of his face in quiet rivulets, but his eyes… they were calm. Alive. Unbroken.

Below him, the charred battlefield was still and smoldering—an open wound in the Forbidden Vein.

Suddenly, a golden system sigil flared to life before his vision.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

You have defeated [Demon God: Vaer'Zhul].

You have gained immense experience.

The notifications didn't stop.

LEVEL UP! → 909

LEVEL UP! → 910

LEVEL UP! → 911

...

LEVEL UP! → 920

LEVEL UP! → 935

LEVEL UP! → 950

⚠️ Processing Continuous Overload…

The air around Alter flickered violently with energy, golden sigils forming around his body in vertical rings. The surge of power caused the ground below to quake again as raw divine force poured into him.

LEVEL UP! → 965

LEVEL UP! → 978

LEVEL UP! → 985

LEVEL UP! → 986

A final pulse of energy erupted outward in a sphere of light, cleansing the darkness from the scorched battlefield.

Then—

[CREATOR AUTHORITY: 31% (LOCKED)]

Alter's breath hitched in his throat. His mind barely processed the words—but his heart knew. He was close.

Closer than ever.

"986…" he murmured, voice hoarse. "Only thirteen more to max…"

His hands clenched into trembling fists, Starsever still glowing in his right.

This wasn't just strength. This wasn't just a level. It was a tectonic shift in his existence.

When the seal finally broke…

He would become more than a sovereign of dragons.

He would become the Creator of fate, of flame, of finality.

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the triumph.

And then, as the final embers of the demon god faded—

He turned toward the swirling skies above.

More would come. Stronger. Darker.

But now, he was ready.

Alter landed upon Ignivar's back once more.

Above, the sky was open. The rift was sealed.

But the portal had opened.

And the Vein… would never be the same.

Ashes of the Sky: Mourning in the Forbidden Vein

Silence.

Not the kind birthed from peace, but the kind that hangs in the air after everything has fallen.

The battlefield no longer burned.

There were no more roars, no clashes of fang and flame, no screams tearing through the rifted sky.

Only the drifting hush of falling ash—flakes of what had once been a god, now reduced to floating embers that rained down like snow across the realm.

The Forbidden Vein trembled beneath it all. Mountains slumped. Sky-isles hovered low, their edges crumbling. The veins of magic running through the clouds pulsed slower—mourning.

Alter stood atop Ignivar, unmoving, his twin blades still in hand. His armor was cracked and scorched. His hair was matted with sweat and blood. The remnants of the Creator's Banishment still shimmered faintly along the edge of his sword—residual fragments of a power that should not exist.

Ignivar breathed heavy. Smoke curled from his nostrils. His wings drooped, broken in places, scales chipped from battle. And yet, he held Alter aloft—refusing to fall.

All around them, the sky was filled not with light…

but with loss.

Six lights descended from above.

Six trails.

Six dragon forms—once titans of pride and power—now collapsed from the sky like broken constellations.

Their landings were not impacts.

They were returns to earth.

Cryndara's wings were folded over her chest, crystalline frost still clinging to her fangs.

Vael'Thurn's body smoldered like dying embers, one eye closed, the other staring toward the heavens he gave his life to protect.

Elarion's form was scorched through, chest marked with a lightning bolt that never stopped flickering.

Zephraelle, broken and still, feathers spiraling down in silence like lost prayers.

Kael'dros, shattered like a glass comet—his body no longer whole, only the glowing fragments of crystal bones.

Thaurmokk, unmoving beneath the sky, his earth-forged heart cracked open like a geode.

They had not merely died.

They had been spent—given entirely to the moment that saved the Vein.

Dragons gathered from across the battlefield.

One by one, they landed on fractured cliffs, floating isles, and scorched peaks.

No words were spoken.

From the smallest wyrmling to the great ancestral beasts, they bowed—heads lowered, wings folded, eyes dimmed with quiet reverence.

It was not ceremony.

It was remembrance.

Alter finally stepped down from Ignivar's back. His boots touched the bloodied stone, and for the first time in hours—perhaps days—he allowed his shoulders to fall.

He walked between the bodies of the fallen Lords, each one massive, regal, terrible in their final stillness.

And he knelt.

Not as their Prime.

But as their kin.

A voice broke the silence.

"What now… Sovereign?"

It was an elder wyrm, voice like old stone.

Alter raised his head slowly. His eyes, bloodshot, burned with sorrow—but not weakness.

He didn't answer right away.

Instead, he stood and reached down, placing a hand gently on Cryndara's icy crown.

"We remember them," he said at last. "Not as fallen…

But as pillars of the sky."

He turned slowly to the others—each dragon that had bowed.

"These six gave everything. Their hearts did not fail. Their flame did not waver.

Their legacy will not fade."

He raised one hand.

The leylines pulsed.

And the sky wept.

A soft aurora veil spread across the heavens—woven from the residual breath of the fallen. It was the Vein's natural magic—mourning, remembering, honoring.

"Let the Vein carry their names.

Let the skies hold their echoes.

Let the new dawn be lit by the fire they left behind."

No cheers.

No applause.

Only silence.

And then… a rising wind, warm and vast, sweeping through the realm.

A final farewell.

Scene End – Mourning in the Forbidden Vein

The war is over.

The dragons grieve.

The sky watches in silence.

But the portal still spins above, waiting.

The Last Words: A Sovereign's Farewell

The battlefield had quieted, but not healed.

The skies of the Forbidden Vein still swirled in half-light, a canvas of bruised clouds and stilled winds. The aurora veil above pulsed like a slow heartbeat—mourning etched in color.

Alter stood alone beneath it, wind brushing past the torn edges of his armor. The surviving dragons had withdrawn to the outskirts. Even Ignivar remained back, watching in silence from a high ridge, flame dimmed in reverence.

Now, it was just Alter.

And them.

The Six Lords, laid to rest in a crescent formation—guarding, even in death, the heart of the realm they'd sworn to protect.

Alter walked slowly between them, eyes distant yet burning, and stopped before the first.

❄️ Cryndara of the Eternal Hollow

Her body was a cathedral of silence.

Icy wings folded inward, her eyes closed as if in rest.

Alter knelt by her massive snout, one hand brushing the frost-covered ridge of her scales.

"You taught me to find stillness in chaos," he murmured.

"To see clarity not in the flame… but in the quiet between breaths."

He bowed his head low.

"I promise… your stillness will remain in me."

⚡ Elarion, Stormcoil Sovereign

His body shimmered with residual sparks. One horn was shattered. His tongue still held the weight of thunder not spoken.

Alter rested a palm on the crack in his chest.

"You were my rival in the skies. The one who never hesitated to test me."

"You told me to earn the sky—not to inherit it."

He smiled faintly.

"I hope I finally did."

🌬️ Zephraelle, Warden of the Nine Winds

Her feathers lay scattered in the air, drifting endlessly.

Alter stopped at her side and picked one up.

"I never understood how someone so fast… could also be so patient."

He looked to the sky she once danced in.

"You never stopped moving, even when the rest of the world froze.

Thank you… for lifting me when I had no wings of my own."

🪨 Thaurmokk, Earthvein Lord

A mountain collapsed. That was how his body looked—still, vast, unshakable.

Alter placed both hands on one of the stone plates over his heart.

"You didn't speak much. You didn't need to."

He exhaled.

"But when you stood behind me… I knew I'd never fall backward."

A pause.

"Sleep well, old mountain."

💎 Kael'dros, Crystal Sovereign

His body lay in luminous shards—glittering like starlight caught in glass.

Alter knelt and carefully collected one fragment.

"You said beauty didn't mean fragility.

You shattered so that others wouldn't."

He pressed the shard to his chest.

"I will remember the light you gave… even in pieces."

🔥 Vael'Thurn, The First Flame

He was still burning.

Not destructively—but like an eternal candle. His scales glowed dimly like embers of a sun that refused to go dark.

Alter hesitated here.

Then stepped forward and placed a hand over the dragon's heart, still faintly pulsing.

"You were the first to rise when I called. The first to fly.

The last to fall."

His voice tightened.

"You believed in me… before I believed in myself."

He looked to the faint flame, and it flickered in response.

"Thank you for giving me your fire."

🩸 The Offer of Legacy

As he stood, the air changed.

The bodies of the six began to shimmer—light drifting from their hearts, from their blood, from the marrow of sovereign sacrifice.

The air pulsed with invitation.

Not command. Not force. But willing surrender.

Alter stepped to the center of their circle.

The essence began to rise—six streams of light and flame, ice and storm, crystal and earth.

"If I take this… I will never be the same."

His hands trembled.

"But if I don't… everything you gave will be lost."

He closed his eyes.

And opened his heart.

The six streams surged into him.

His body glowed. Wings of draconic fire burst behind his back.

His bones ached. His blood roared. His soul splintered, reformed, and soared.

Each voice echoed within:

"Take flight."

"Bear us forward."

"We are not dead. We are now within you."

Ascension of the True Prime Dragonic Sovereign

The Forbidden Vein held its breath.

The sky had wept. The war had ended. The dead had been honored.

And at the heart of the shattered battlefield, amidst the bodies of six fallen sovereigns, stood Alter—his head bowed, arms open, as the power of the dragons poured into him.

Not just their will.

Not just their flame.

But their hearts—beating with ancient might.

Their blood—pulsing with sovereign lineage.

And he did not refuse it.

He absorbed it.

🩸 The Rite of Sovereignty

The six streams became rivers.

Power surged into Alter's body with deafening silence—no scream, no explosion, just the rumble of evolution. Flame wrapped around his veins. Ice crystallized along his spine. Thunder fused with his heartbeat. Crystal, wind, stone, and light collided within his core.

His knees buckled—

—then he rose, taller.

His back arched—

—then his muscles tightened like coiled dragons.

And then, it happened.

A ROAR.

Not a cry of pain. Not rage.

But a declaration.

The sound echoed across the Vein, shaking every isle, every peak, every wyrm. It was not Alter's voice.

It was the voice of every dragon that came before him, thundering through his lungs.

The sky turned gold.

🐉 The Transformation Begins

His pupils split, reshaping into vertical slits—golden, radiant, ancient.

His hair ignited, flowing like living flame, crimson-red with streaks of burning copper.

A mark etched itself upon his forehead—a tribal dragon in flight, coiling upward like a divine seal carved into flesh.

His skin shimmered with a metallic sheen, not of steel—but of scaled divinity, a golden luster born of dragonblood and battle.

Then came the armor.

🛡️ Celestial Armor: Sovereign Rebirth

His previous celestial armor pulsed once—then cracked open like a chrysalis.

It reformed instantly, piece by piece, scale by scale.

Chestplate: Reshaped into angular silver-blue draconic scale plating, layered for breath and movement, ridged like a serpent's back.

Helmet: A majestic helm with two straight dragon horns, sweeping back from the jawline—sleek and royal, carved with ancient runes of flame and air.

Mask: Covered his lower face, revealing only those burning dragon eyes—eyes that stared into gods and did not blink.

Hands: Encased in black-silver gauntlets with razor-sharp claws, made not for defense, but for judgment.

Pauldrons: Forged like dragon wings, resting upon his shoulders in sweeping arcs of scale and motion, subtly shifting with his breath.

Back Rack: A mounting mechanism with two snapping clamps—precisely a foot apart—resting on his lower back, designed to hold and rapid-release Starsever at a thought.

Mantle: A long, flowing hip-attachment mimicking dragon wings folded, trimmed in blue-silver embroidery, draping behind his waist like a regal storm.

Lower Plate: A plated groin guard extended down into a battle-kilt of woven scaled threads—protective, flexible, unyielding.

The transformation completed in ten heartbeats.

With the eleventh—his aura surged.

🌌 The Awakening of Authority

From his core, a storm of energy erupted upward—a vertical beam of light that pierced the sky and made the clouds scatter.

The aurora veils above trembled.

The mountains below bowed.

His draconic aura no longer pulsed.

It commanded.

Not with volume. Not with fire.

But with undeniable supremacy.

🐲 The Bowing of Dragons

Across the Vein, dragons—thousands, great and small—felt it.

The younglings dropped to their knees in instinctual awe.

The elders folded their wings with solemn reverence.

The flight-captains, proud and scarred, bowed without a word.

Even Ignivar—his eternal flame flickering with joy—lowered his head fully, pressing it to the cracked earth.

No one needed to speak.

They felt it in the marrow of their bones.

The True Prime Dragonic Sovereign had risen.

Alter stood in the storm of his rebirth, wings of flame and light unfurling behind him in radiant silhouette.

He opened his clawed hand—his breath calm, his gaze steady.

"For those we lost…

For the skies we still protect…

I will bear this crown."

Alter is reborn: golden-eyed, sovereign-clad, and blood-bound to the legacy of all dragonkind.

He is no longer simply the Draconian Prime.

He is now the Dragon Sovereign of All Skies.

Scene Title: "Sovereign Crowned – The Authority Beyond"

Scene Title: "Sovereign Crowned – The Authority Beyond"

Arc: Forbidden Vein – Demon Invasion: When the Sky Breaks

Scene Placement: Post-Ascension – Draconian Prime Awakening

Tone: Majestic, Awe-Struck, Layered with Power and Mystery

The winds fell silent.

The last pulse of dragonlight faded into the storm-bleached clouds above as Alter stood still—hovering upon the air itself, wreathed in a mantle of celestial flame and dragonic sovereignty. His breath exhaled slowly, misting against the chaos winds still circling the edge of the breach overhead.

The trial was over.

The chains of mortality were no longer his to bear.

Below, the cratered sanctum of the final trial flickered with residual lightning, frozen edges of glacial memory, and still-burning embers of primeval flame. The shattered horizon lay silent in reverence.

Alter's fingers slowly uncurled.

A familiar tone resonated deep within his mind—chiming not from any visible source, but from existence itself.

⟢ SYSTEM PROMPT – ASCENSION COMPLETE

You have awakened as: [True Prime Dragonic Sovereign]

Full Aspect Mastery: Confirmed

Dragon Affinity: Absolute

Sovereign Bond: Ignivar (Crown of Embers) – Active

New Equipment Unlocked: [Sovereignborn Draconic Plate]

(Celestial Dragon Armor: Transcended Form)

Alter's eyes flicked open as the system prompt unfolded like scripture carved into the heavens.

The golden sheen across his body deepened as the Sovereignborn Draconic Plate emerged anew—no longer the simple divine-tier armor it had been, but something born of draconic law and celestial oath. The plates shimmered with silver-blue brilliance, infused with every element he had mastered. Each section moved like liquid scale when he shifted, and the pauldrons—vast, winglike in shape—crackled with sovereign aura.

A new panel blinked into place.

🛡️ [Sovereignborn Draconic Plate] – Celestial Myth Relic

Set Effects:

— Elemental Nullification: Grants complete immunity to all elemental damage types (Fire, Ice, Lightning, Wind, Earth, Light, Shadow, and Chaos). Passive affinity to each element increases offensive and defensive interactions.

— Prime Aegis Protocol: When struck by divine-tier or higher attacks, auto-triggers a reactive shield that nullifies 1 hit every 20 seconds. Shield adjusts to attacker's element.

— Aura of the Crowned: All allies within 500 meters enter [Primordial Bond], increasing their combat power by 200% and amplifying elemental resonance. Allies with dragonic or elemental affinity receive additional synchronization with Alter's current aura.

Active Ability: [Majestic Resurgence]

— On activation, recalls all fallen allied draconic units in battle and revives them with 100% HP, cloaked in Sovereign Flame.

— Cooldown: 30 minutes.

Alter let out a slow breath. "...It's not just armor anymore," he whispered. "It's a legacy made manifest."

Ignivar, circling high above with radiant wings trailing infernal embers, released a deep, echoing roar of approval—a steed acknowledging its rider's true inheritance.

But then—

Another chime.

This one felt different.

It rang deeper, like a tremor through reality itself.

Not merely a prompt.

An awakening.

⚠️ SYSTEM ALERT – CREATOR AUTHORITY UPDATE

Your Creator Authority has increased.

➤ [Current Creator Authority: 43%]

➤ Status: LOCKED

(Threshold surpassed. Divine mechanism unresponsive. Awaiting further dimensional unlocking.)

Alter's vision froze for a moment.

43%.

He clenched his jaw, heart pounding—not from exhaustion, but from the staggering weight of realization.

That number had only recently risen…

Back during his battle against Malzareth, the Demon God of Ruin, the system had increased his Creator Authority to 19%. He had thought that alone was nearly impossible to reach without becoming a full-fledged god—or even a fragment of one.

But now—

43%.

It nearly doubled.

No skills. No active input. No divine pact.

Just… awakening.

The moment he ascended as the sovereign of all dragonkind, reality itself seemed to respond.

His lips parted in a rare laugh—half-manic, half-euphoric. "I didn't even do anything this time…"

He grinned wide, golden draconic eyes flashing with fervent fire. "Just ascended… and the system gave in."

The void above cracked again.

The winds of the World Maelstrom howled louder, beckoning him forward. But Alter remained still, the laughter fading into a breath of reverence.

He opened his palm again, watching as threads of draconic flame danced across it—his aura no longer just a force of battle, but a law that other forces bowed to.

"This… this isn't just a system response," he muttered. "Something in the world is shifting."

From the edges of the trial's remnants, Xian'Zhul's presence stirred—though distant. The flood dragon, sensing the moment of full awakening, did not intervene. Not yet. Some thresholds, even ancient mentors must not step through.

Alter lifted his gaze again, the creator authority prompt still floating before him.

[Status: LOCKED]

He reached toward the glowing text with one clawed, armored finger… and tapped it.

Nothing happened.

The prompt didn't vanish.

No new menu.

No input allowed.

Locked.

Sealed.

Waiting.

But his smile only deepened. "So be it. If 43% is still locked… then what happens at 50?" he mused aloud, thunder rolling in sync with his words.

He closed the system interface, letting the sovereign aura rise around him like a divine banner.

The flames of his soul coiled upward.

The wind obeyed his wings.

The earth no longer resisted his step.

And the sky—

The sky opened wide.

The rift overhead pulsed violently now—uncontained, churning with maelstrom energy. A swirling nexus of floating islands, ruptured dimensions, and magic storms all collapsed toward its core.

The World Maelstrom awaited.

Ignivar dropped from above with thunderous grace, landing beside Alter in a slow spiral of heat and sovereign wind. The dragon's wings flared open, its obsidian-scaled body shimmering with divine ignition.

Alter stepped forward, one hand trailing across the crown of his companion's head. "Time to meet the storm."

Another roar—one that shook the heavens.

Alter leapt onto Ignivar's back, the connection immediate. His armor synced with the draconic resonance, and elemental circuits along the plate ignited one by one, syncing with the beast beneath him.

A final message appeared as they ascended into the heart of the rift:

[You are now recognized as a Dimensional Sovereign Candidate]

— World Systems are preparing to adapt.

— New thresholds available upon Creator Authority 50%.

— WARNING: Dimensional Entities have detected your ascension.

Alter's eyes narrowed.

"Let them come."

And with a searing burst of sovereign flame, the Draconian Prime launched into the heart of the storm—

—his fire carving a path through the chaos,

—his armor shining brighter than any god's command,

—and his laughter echoing across realms that had yet to understand the scale of what had just awakened.

For now…

The sovereign did not kneel.

The system did.

The Final Flightline: A Sovereign's Words

The sky above the Forbidden Vein shimmered with golden breath.

Where once a god had fallen, now a new star hovered—blazing in silence, waiting. The portal in the sky spun slowly above the war-torn realm, humming with promise and threat alike.

And beneath it all, at the broken heart of the battlefield, the dragons had gathered.

Thousands.

All flights. All tribes.

From newborn wyrmlings still struggling to maintain flight, to scaled ancients whose wings had carved canyons into memory, they circled and landed in formation—layered across the cliffs, ruins, sky-isles, and ridgelines like a living tapestry of scale and breath.

At the center stood Alter.

His aura burned with calm command, his draconic armor gleaming silver-blue beneath the low sun. His golden eyes—ancient now—swept across the crowd, and for a long moment, he simply stood in their gaze.

Not as a god.

But as one of them.

Ignivar landed behind him with a rumble of earth and flame, folding his wings with solemn grace. He did not speak. He simply watched, as did all others.

Alter took one step forward, claws clicking against scorched stone.

"I was not born of dragonkind," he began quietly, his voice clear even without roar or flame.

"Yet you followed me.

Fought beside me.

Bled… and died… for this realm."

His gaze drifted over the space where the Six Lords had fallen.

"They called me Prime. Some called me heir. Some called me storm."

He looked back to the gathered dragons, his voice steady.

"But I am none of those things…

Without you."

The dragons did not move.

They listened.

"This sky is yours now. Not because I demand it—but because you earned it. With claw, and scale, and fire. You proved that unity was not a myth. That tribes could rise together."

He drew his blade once, only to plant it into the ground before him—a gesture of trust.

"This realm does not need a god. It needs guardians."

A beat.

"And it already has them."

He turned toward the rising sky—where the portal loomed high above like an unblinking eye of creation.

"Where I go, I do not know what awaits. But I go not for conquest…

I go to protect this world from what may come."

He extended one arm, pointing toward the portal.

"If there are threats beyond this Vein… I will meet them first.

If there are gods who think dragonkind is forgotten…

They will remember. Because I will remind them."

He stepped toward Ignivar, climbing onto the great dragon's back.

The flames along Ignivar's spine flared golden—not from heat, but from purpose.

Alter looked over his shoulder one last time.

"My kin… my sky… my flame—

If I do not return…"

He paused.

Then smirked softly.

"...burn the world until I do."

A thousand dragons rumbled in response.

Not words.

Not cheers.

But a shared, instinctual vibration in their chests—a unity of breath. The Dragon Sovereign did not need permission.

He had their blessing.

He had their vow.

He had their flame.

Ignivar reared up, wings unfurling to their full span.

Alter looked skyward—and then they soared.

Alter departs through the sky portal, leaving behind a world forever changed.

A realm restored.

A legacy sealed.

And a sky… that no longer forgets its king.