The world was destined to collapse in darkness.
Draegor Nyx, guild master of Draconic Eclipse, stood alone in the great throne room of his kingdom, a monstrous obsidian castle seated atop razored cliffs. Once-thick corridors lay empty, the NPCs of his guild stiff as statues. A countdown timer ticked, the final seconds of Yggdrasil, the legendary DMMORPG that had dominated an era.
"So this is it." Draegor complained, putting his clawed gauntlet on the armrest of his throne. His creation—an Undead Death Dragon, surrounded by abyssal energy—had been his opus, a mix of dark magic that would kill and raw physical might. But everything was going to be stripped away from him, lost into the nothingness along with the game itself.
5…
4…
3…
2…
1…
The world did not disappear.
Instead, he was overwhelmed by a strange feeling. The dry, plastic scent of the game was erased, replaced by the sharp smell of a night breeze. His pillars of black stone of his fortress continued to be unshakeable, but now they exuded an aura of power—a presence that was decidedly real.
".What?" His voice thundered through the chamber, deeper and more resonant than before. A glance down revealed that his body was no longer bound by pixels and polygons. His massive, clawed hands flexed with perfect articulation, the dark energy that swirled around his form pulsating as if alive.
This isn't a game anymore.
A sharp, deliberate chime echoed in his mind, clear and precise.
[Primordial Tyrant System Activated.]
Draegor tensed. A system? Something never seen in Yggdrasil. A clear screen appeared before him, letters burning in a gaudy purple hue.
[Welcome, Lord Draegor Nyx.]
[Your kingdom, Draconic Eclipse Fortress, has been established as your capital.]
[Your dynasty now commences. Spread, conquer, and transform to fulfill the ultimate potential of the Primordial Tyrant System.]
A devious grin crept onto Draegor's face. This wasn't some isekai dreamscape—this was an opportunity.
A New Reality
He strode away from the throne, heading toward the humongous double doors that led out of the room. The moment he ordered them open, the humongous enchanted steel doors groaned, swinging wide with a resounding resonance. Beyond lay the night sky to infinity, thronged with anomalous stars. The Draconic Eclipse Fortress stood exactly as he had built it—its spires that stretched to the sky, hovering black citadels, and abyssal energy that coursed like rivers between edifices—but the world outside it was different.
Distant, dark woods rolled off towards the horizon. Glowing patches of torchlight out there—villages, towns, or perhaps something different. He had no map, no information about his world, but he knew his surroundings, an inner sense imparted by his new life.
He spoke to rows of NPC guards, once cold AI figures, now something… more.
"Report." His words cut smoothly through the air, full of an authority that brooked no disobedience.
Seraphis, the Wraith Queen, went down on her knees first. She was dressed in a black, tattered robe, her otherworldly form flickering between flesh and shadow, her red eyes burning with guile. "Lord Draegor," she said, her voice a death sigh. "We await your command. What is our role in this new world?"
Draegor breathed slowly. This is real. They are real.
He clenched his fist, dark energy swirling around his fingers. If I have been reborn in this world, then I will not waste this chance.
"We will begin our conquest," Draegor declared, his voice unyielding. "Scout the land. Gather intelligence. If this world has kings, empires, or gods, I want to know. We do not simply exist in this world—we will conquer it."
Seraphis bowed. "At once, my lord."
The First Hunt
An hour later, Draegor soared across the midnight landscape, his dragon wings cutting through the air. While not entirely in dragon shape, his hybrid state gave him both agility and brute strength—perfect for reconnaissance of his to-be territory.
His first encounter with the inhabitants of this world came soon enough. A band of bandits lay in wait along a forest trail, rusted blades and makeshift armor, around what appeared to be a merchant's wagon.
Draegor dropped like a meteor.
BOOM!
The shockwaves rattled the clearing, knocking the bandits off their feet. Before they could even move, Draegor raised one clawed hand.
[Subjugation.]
A dark energy ran through the air. The bandits froze, their bodies twitching as the system imposed his will. Their eyes became glassy as new lines of text appeared before Draegor.
[Subjugation Successful.]
[Subjects Assimilated: 6]
[Abilities Acquired: Low-Tier Swordsmanship, Enhanced Night Vision]
A slow grin spread across his lips. So it works.
The kneeling bandits looked up, their faces vacant, awaiting his orders. The merchant, still cringing behind his wagon, stared on in horror.
"P-please, spare me, great one! I-I'll give you anything!" the man stammered.
Draegor turned his attention to him. "You cringe before me. Good. Then listen well—spread my name. Tell the world that the Draconic Eclipse has risen. Those who stand against."
He focused on a bandit and willed his submission to break.
The moment it did, the man drew a gasping breath—only to be instantly incinerated by Draegor's palm.
".Will burn."
The trader nodded wildly and clambered onto his wagon, cracking the reins and tearing into the night.
Draegor looked at his new servants. "Come. We have an empire to win."
The Undead Dragon King's campaign began.