Draegor Nyx stood at the highest balcony of Draconic Eclipse Fortress, his piercing scarlet gaze sweeping over the vast, alien realms that stretched beyond the borders of his realm. The wind carried a baleful silence, disturbed only by the distant wails of beasts he did not recognize. He was no longer in Yggdrasil—things here were far from familiar.
The scope of the comprehension crashed crushing weight on him. His form, which previously had been defined by the mechanics of a game, now moved with an existence that was horrifyingly realistic. The power from the depths, pumping through his body, vibrated with strength he had not yet even fully grasped. And finally, there was the Primordial Tyrant System, which never before had ever had any resemblance in the game but now irrevocably interwove itself into the very fabric of his being.
His clawed fingers drummed against the black stone railing, the rhythm resonating in the still night. The fortress remained intact, as did his NPC guardians. But what of the world beyond? What forces governed it? What horrors lurked in the shadows?
These thoughts in mind, Draegor departed and strode purposefully towards the great hall. The massive doors creaked open of their own accord, responding to his presence alone. Inside, his most loyal subordinates stood waiting for him, their eyes filled with fresh insight. No longer mere lines of encoded text, they now possessed depth, wisdom, and, above all, loyalty that smoldered like a hot fire.
Seraphis, the Queen of Wraiths, stood before him, her ghostly form shifting as she spoke to him. "My Lord, we have begun preliminary scouting of the territories surrounding us as per your instructions."
Draegor nodded his head, his expression a mask. "Go on."
Seraphis raised a spectral hand, and the air wavered to reveal a spectral map of the area beyond the fortress walls. "The countryside is comprised of dark forests teeming with life, mundane as well as magical. There are small villages dotting the landscape, but their level of civilization appears. primitive compared to what we had grown accustomed to.".
Draegor's eyes went narrow. That was both good and bad. If the denizens of this world were feeble, they could be easily conquered. But what of stronger threats? Did they have empires? Kings? Gods?
"Have we encountered any governing powers?"
Seraphis shook her head. "Not so far. The villages we observed appeared to be isolated, without any sign of central control. But we were careful not to draw attention by staying back."
Draegor breathed quietly. Good. It was premature to make public his arrival.
He spoke to another of the assembled guardians. Varek, the Abyssal Knight, in his distinctive obsidian plate armor, walked forward and dropped to one knee. "My Lord, our fighters are ready at your orders. If you wish to engage us in test of strength, we are ready."
Draegor observed the knight, then shifted his focus to the rest of the room. Each guardian possessed his own strengths, from necromantic spells to combat strategies learned through simulated combat by the hundreds. He had to see them battle—not as pre-programmed game constructs, but as living, breathing entities.
Rising from his throne, Draegor's void power coalesced around him in a living shadow. "Welcome a contained skirmish within the walls of the fortress." "I will watch."
A huge moment of silence, and then thunder of hooves as they bowed. "As you wish." "Lord Draegor."
The Test of Strength
The center courtyard of the fortress had been transformed into an arena of some sort. Torches blazed with supernatural green flames, their extended shadows spreading over the stone pavement. Draegor assumed position on the raised dais, his features firm as two of his guards moved to stand by him.
Varek, the Abyssal Knight, against Zaelith, the Bladed Phantom.
Zaelith, assassin rogue-like, emerged out of the shadows, twin blades glinting in the spectre torches. His body flickered, a personification of speed and precision.
Varek didn't budge, his behemoth form an unbreachable bulwark of strength. His greatsword, forged in abyssal steel, rested across his shoulder.
Draegor raised one clawed hand. "Start."
Zaelith vanished the moment the word was spoken by Draegor, reappearing in an instant behind Varek. Any common enemy would have been struck down instantly, but Varek was no common knight.
CLANG!
A sweep back with Varek's huge greatsword repelled both daggers, sending Zaelith crashing across the stone floor. The form of the assassin shook before stabilizing.
Draegor observed with interest. Their responses were more than anything in the traditional game. They were learning, thinking.
Zaelith struck again, but this time he did not strike—he avoided. The knife in his right hand faltered out of phase, re-emerging in his left at precisely the moment that he rotated halfway across the distance. The sleight of hand was flawless.
Nonetheless, Varek reacted instantly. His off-hand punched forward, striking Zaelith in his midst of motion and driving him into the ground with such ferocity that it formed a crater.
The murderer groaned but refused to yield. He dissolved into shadows, breaking free from Varek's grasp and resurfacing on the opposite side of the arena, panting but ready.
Draegor raised a hand once more. "Enough."
Both combatants simultaneously stopped, kneeling at their lord's feet.
He stepped forward, his abyssal power roiling. "You two are both stronger than ever before. Your instincts are sharp, your strategies more acute." His eyes darkened. "We are not where we need to be, though."
Varek slammed his gauntleted fist against his chest. "Then we will train harder, my Lord."
Draegor's smile was weak, but it had promise. "Good."
A World of Unknowns
As darkness fell, Draegor came back to his throne, pondering what to do next. This wasn't Yggdrasil. This world was different, with its own laws and rules he would have to study and adopt swiftly.
First, he would tighten his hold on power, discipline his army, and gather knowledge. Shortly, he would deploy scouts out of the forest lands, not to watch and merely observe but to engage.
Draegor's hand tightened on the arm of his throne. He would not be a fool, but he would not remain concealed forever.
The Draconic Eclipse would rise, and this world would learn to know the reign of a Tyrant King.