Talent Awakening: Draconic Overlord Of The Apocalypse

Alister stood atop the jagged spire, his black coat billowing. His golden eyes, sharp and reptilian, swept over the group, taking in their battered forms with a single glance.

He leaped down—THUD—landing lightly, the ground cracking faintly beneath his boots.

"Well… it seems the boss really did a number on you lot."

Arden's green eyes narrowed, skepticism and curiosity still burning beneath his exhaustion.

He gripped the blade he held tighter, ignoring the ache in his limbs.

"How'd you get in here, Alister?" he asked, his voice edged with suspicion. "This is a closed dungeon. No one just walks in."

Alister's gaze sharpened, his head tilting slightly as he studied them. His eyes flicked to their masks—or what remained of them—some cracked, others discarded.

"How peculiar," he murmured, his tone almost amused. "Seems some of you aren't relying on your mist protective gear anymore." In the next instant, he vanished from where he stood—WHOOSH—a blur of motion so fast it left a faint shimmer in the air.

He reappeared before Gina, leaning in close. "Peculiar indeed," he said, his gaze intense.

Gina flinched, her good hand twitching, but held her ground, staring back through her cracked mask. Arden spun to face him, his blade half-raised, frustration boiling over.

"You still haven't explained how you got in here!" he snapped, his voice rising. "Is the dungeon gate open already?"

Alister straightened, his smirk fading as he sighed, brushing a gloved hand through his dark hair. "With the boss still running around and kicking? Obviously, no," he said casually, but there was a weight to it, a small warning.

Arden gritted his teeth, his knuckles whitening on the blade's hilt.

"Then how did you get in here?" he demanded, his voice raw, the strain of their ordeal fraying his patience.

Alister's movement was instantaneous—FLASH—closing the distance to Arden in a heartbeat, his face inches away, pupils narrowing into glowing, reptilian slits.

"Calm down, guildmaster," he said, his voice low, smooth. "I'm not your enemy. I understand your urgency—your team's in dire shape—but that doesn't mean you should lose it the first chance you get. Frankly, I'm not in a very good mood, had a bad series of déjà vu a few minutes ago and it practically ruined the morning for me. So my patience isn't really at its best right now."

Arden froze, a primal chill crawling up his spine.

Alister's eyes—those glowing, slitted eyes—bore into him, not with malice, but with a predator's unyielding calm, like a dragon sizing up prey.

The air felt heavier, charged with an unspoken power that made Arden's breath catch.

He was struck by the sheer presence Alister commanded—grace, charisma, and a composure that felt worlds apart from the young summoner he'd once tried to recruit.

Back then, Alister had been promising, but this… this was something else.

They stood eye-to-eye, equal in stature, yet Arden couldn't shake the sense that Alister might be more—stronger, somehow, despite being just a summoner.

How?

Before he could dwell on it, a sharp BZZZZZZZZT tore through his mind, the familiar static of the system voice echoing.

Arden flinched, his vision flickering as the ancient, layered voice spoke:

[Aspirant, compose yourself. You stand in the presence of a Household Head. Disrespectful behavior risks inciting a House War, and House Emberwairth cannot afford such folly with House Hazenworth.]

The buzz snapped off, leaving Arden reeling, his heart pounding. A House War? Over this? He swallowed hard, his gaze locked on Alister, who hadn't moved, his slitted eyes still watching—unreadable but piercing.

The guildmaster forced his shoulders to relax, though the weight of Alister's presence—and the system's warning—lingered like a blade at his throat.

"Alright," Arden said, his voice quieter now, strained but steady. "So what's the plan?"

Alister's eyes softened slightly, the slits widening back to a more human shape, and he stepped back, his smirk returning. "First, we get you all out of here," he said, glancing at the team. "Then I deal with my dragon knight and whatever mess he's stirring up. Come on—move."

He said it, but then he noticed how slow they all moved due to the really bad shape their bodies were in.

"You're all in worse shape than I thought…"

"It'd be a shame if you ended up dying after surviving this mess."

Before anyone could respond, he raised a gloved hand and called out, "Come forth, Silvyr."

A sharp HUM filled the air, and a golden portal tore open beside him—SHHHH—its edges shimmering like liquid sunlight.

From it stepped a young man, his dark green hair filled with delicate flowers, catching the crimson light like a forest canopy. His piercing yellow eyes gleamed softly, and he wore green armor etched with patterns of leaves and bark. He looked like a sapling given human form, a little tree brought to life.

In his hands, he clutched a wooden staff entwined with pulsing vines, its faint mana glow humming softly.

It was Silvyr. The little dragon general looked around in curiosity and confusion. He didn't say anything, but the foul stench of the mist in the air made him pinch his nose in disgust.

Marcus's jaw dropped, blood still flecking his lips. "Another one?" he muttered, eyes wide. "This guy's got a whole damn army."

Gina blinked, her cracked mask tilting as she leaned forward a bit. "He's… kinda cute though," she said, a faint smile breaking through her pain, her voice almost wistful despite the situation.

Silvyr felt a bit insulted by the remark… he didn't like being called cute. He was a dragon, damn it… still, his left eye simply twitched, but he said nothing.

Marcus nudged Arden, his voice low but urgent. "He called this one out after talking about our wounds. Think that dragon's a healer?"

Arden didn't respond, his green eyes fixed on the newcomer, curiosity warring with exhaustion.

Silvyr turned to face Alister, bowed slightly, his movements stiff, voice stuttering as he spoke. "M-my lord, you called?" His yellow eyes darted nervously to Alister, the staff trembling faintly in his grip.