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Chapter 36
The Gate of the Ancient Dragon
The deeper Alex walked, the more the mountain itself seemed to breathe against his skin.
At first the tunnel was ordinary — rough stone, jagged edges, the soft plink of water dripping from unseen cracks. But the air grew colder with every step, as if the cave were exhaling centuries of forgotten winter.
Then the walls changed.
They became too smooth.
Unnaturally smooth.
Like something had patiently carved them by hand long before kingdoms rose or fell.
Alex let his fingertips trail across the stone. The surface was cold enough to sting.
"…So this place really exists."
In Chronicles of the Ruined Empire, the dragon legacy dungeon had only ever been mentioned in passing — a footnote in the early storyline. The original protagonist had stumbled into it by accident during a storm. No one had ever described what waited inside.
Which meant everything from this point forward was blind territory.
Unknown.
Unwritten.
Alex kept walking. His footsteps echoed strangely, as though the darkness were listening and answering back.
A faint crimson glow eventually appeared ahead, pulsing like a slow heartbeat.
The tunnel opened.
And the world changed.
He stepped into a colossal underground chamber. The ceiling vanished into shadow high above. In the center stood a gate that looked older than the mountain itself — twenty meters of black stone that drank the crimson light and gave nothing back. Ancient dragon runes crawled across its surface like living veins. Massive carved wings spread across the walls. Flames that had never known mortal fire. And at the heart of it all, a colossal dragon's eye stared straight into him, unblinking.
Before the gate lay a perfect circular platform of polished obsidian.
The moment Alex's boot crossed the chamber's threshold, the air thickened. It pressed against his chest like invisible hands. The cave was no longer empty.
It was watching.
He approached the circle. At its exact center was a small, perfectly round indentation — the size of a coin, the depth of a shallow wound.
Alex's lips curved faintly.
"Blood activation."
He drew the dagger from his belt without hesitation and drew it across his palm. Three drops fell.
Silence.
Then the mountain answered.
A low, bone-deep rumble rolled through the chamber. Dust sifted from the ceiling like gray snow. The enormous gate shuddered and began to rise, inch by grinding inch, ancient mechanisms groaning awake after a thousand years of sleep.
When the gap was wide enough, pure darkness waited beyond.
Three glowing runes ignited in the air, burning blood-red.
A voice spoke — not from the gate, not from the walls, but from everywhere at once. It sounded like grinding stone and cracking ice and the slow turning of the world itself.
"Dragon Legacy Trial Initiated."
"Three trials must be passed."
"Conviction."
"Mind."
"Dominion."
Alex's eyes narrowed.
The order was wrong. In the game the first trial had been—
The voice continued, colder now.
"First Trial — Conviction."
A massive magic circle flared beneath his feet, searing white and gold. The chamber, the gate, the mountain — everything dissolved.
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Somewhere Beyond Time
In a place that had no name and no sky, two figures sat upon thrones carved from the bones of dead stars.
Their forms were hidden behind veils of swirling void. Only their eyes burned — one pair the color of molten gold, the other the deep violet of old bruises on the universe.
The first voice drifted like distant thunder.
"So… destiny has invited him."
The second chuckled, a sound that made the darkness flinch.
"Or perhaps… he forced destiny to notice him."
A pause.
"You feel it too?" the first asked.
"The dragon blood in his veins."
"Yes," the second replied. "But something else clings to him. Something that was never meant to be here."
Silence stretched between them like a blade.
Then the second figure leaned forward, eyes gleaming with something ancient and hungry.
"Well then… let us see if this child can fight against fate itself."
The first figure's smile was thin and terrible.
"Begin the trial."
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First Trial — Conviction
Alex's vision snapped back.
He stood on a battlefield that had no horizon.
The ground was blackened and split, soaked with the copper stench of old blood. The sky — if it could be called a sky — was an endless bruise of storm clouds and distant red lightning. No wind. No sound except his own heartbeat.
An illusion realm.
But it felt too real. The air tasted of iron and smoke. His boots sank slightly into the mud.
Before he could take another step, a roar tore across the wasteland.
From the darkness came shapes — wolf-like beasts armored in black scales that reflected nothing. Their eyes burned like fresh coals.
Alex drew his sword, the blade singing softly.
Something was wrong.
In the game, the first trial had been a test of courage — a mental phantom, not a slaughter.
This was different.
This was alive.
"Great," he muttered, voice low. "My knowledge really is useless here."
The pack lunged.
Alex moved on instinct — step, turn, strike. The Iron Heart Blade Technique flowed through him like water. His sword carved through the first beast's neck in a clean arc.
But three more took its place.
Then five.
Then ten.
They kept coming, endless, silent except for the wet sound of claws in mud and the scrape of scale on scale. Alex's breathing grew ragged. Sweat stung his eyes. Every time he cut one down, the ground drank the black blood and the shadows seemed to thicken.
He could feel it now — the true nature of the trial.
Conviction.
If his will wavered even once…
If he doubted for a single heartbeat…
He would never leave this place.
Alex wiped blood and sweat from his face with the back of his hand. His eyes hardened into something cold and unbreakable.
"Well then…"
He reversed his grip on the sword and planted his feet.
"…let's see how many of you I have to kill before the mountain believes me."
The battlefield answered with another roar.
And the horde charged once more.
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End of Chapter 36
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