Timeless Assassin, Volume 4
The Dragon's Legacy
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In the age before records, before Empires and a universal common language, there existed only the Prime Forges, planets where raw mana bloomed, and the rules of reality bent easily under claw and flame.
And among the horrors that ruled these early stars, none were feared more than Moltherak—the Devourer of Suns, the Destroyer of Galaxies, and the one the old ones called the First Flame.
He was one of the first twelve beast gods.
A force to be reckoned with.
A will born of fire and destruction, whose wings eclipsed moons and whose breath reduced thriving planets into barren wastelands of scorched stone and bone dust.
Over three hundred inhabited worlds fell under his shadow in a single year when he went on his mad rampage.
And from his terrible spine, a thousand eggs hatched— his children. Dragons. All of them cruel. All of them immeasurably powerful.
They spread across the galaxies like locusts, fighting, killing, corrupting, ruling with talons soaked in the blood of billions.
Not one of them showed mercy.
Not one of them knew compassion.
Until the day a single human said no.
That human was Thalan Rioros, the First King of Ixtal, a mortal born in the ash years, when the universe had forgotten what peace even looked like.
He did not wield divine power.
He did not ride a mythical beast.
He was not chosen by rival gods or fate or prophecy.
He was just a man.
But he was a man who killed a god's son.
The 204th child of Moltherak, Sitharion the Red Death, came to Ixtal with fire in his lungs and hunger in his eyes.
But he did not leave.
Thalan challenged him alone.
Not for power.
Not for glory.
But to protect his people.
And somehow, someway, he won.
The skies of Ixtal were lit with Sitharion's dying breath, and the whole universe changed that day.
For what started with a single act of rebellion.
A single death of one of the god spawns, ended years later, when all twelve ancient beast gods were defeated and their souls banished.
When the common people started to call Thalan the 'Dragon Slayer', the human king only smiled and said—
"Tyrants can never be Dragons.
A Dragon is a noble creature.
One who hunts only what he must to survive,
And guards the world he lives upon.
Moltherak and his kin are not Dragons.
They are beasts. Maddened by power. Nothing more."
"I am hence not a Dragon Slayer, I'm just a man standing up to Evil, like any true Dragon would,"
His words spread across the lands like a healing wind.
And slowly, the word 'Dragon', that was once spoken only in fear, became a symbol of something else.
Hope.
The people began calling him the Dragon King.
Not because he was part dragon.
But because he defied them.
Because he was something better.
As his name and legacy became forever ingrained in Ixtal's memory.
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Many centuries later, when the Cult of Ascension was first established in Ixtal, its founder chose not to worship Moltherak…
but to honor Thalan's spirit, taking on the title of 'Dragon' not as a claim to power…
but as a promise.
A promise to rule the sect as the noble beast that Thalan described.
To only take as much as they needed, and to protect the land they were born on.
And so, the title of 'Dragon' became inspirational for the believers of the Cult, who over the years added many cultural and religious beliefs to the word.
In the modern day, the Cult names the candidates that can carry the legacy of the 'Timeless Assassin' as 'Dragon'.
However, traditionally, it was a title meant for the sect's patriarch.
And its historic origin means 'A leader who brings hope'.
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> — Excerpt from "The Origin of the Dragon: Sacred Histories of the Cult of Ascension,"
Transcribed and Preserved by Loremaster Ryn Vek, 3rd hallmaster of Ixtal, Year 0004
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(Meanwhile, Planet Juxta, First night of the Siege)
The lights were off in the city of Greymount.
Street lamps lay dormant like hollow bones, windows wore blackout sheaths, and even the glowpanels of the rich had gone dead.
On Juxta, under siege from the Righteous Faction's orbital fleet, it was forbidden for any home to show light bright enough to be seen from space.
So they returned to older things, like oil lamps, and glowstones, whose glow was bright enough to see, but not enough to shine.
"No mother…. I don't want to go to sleep! I want to go fight the war with my father!" An innocent child, no older than six, complained in a common house, as his mother lovingly stroked his head and tried to convince him to sleep.
"You can't go to war yet, Terry, you're too tiny to fight.
If you want to go to war, you must eat well, sleep lots and grow up to become big and strong, only then will I let you go—" The mother replied, pulling the blanket over her son's chin as she tried to coax him to sleep.
"Mother…" he whispered, his voice heavier now. "If we had found the next Dragon… would we still be scared of the Righteous Faction?"
He asked innocently, as at his question, his mother stilled, just for a breath.
Then she smiled again, and pulled the blanket tighter.
"No, little Terry," she said softly. "If the Dragon had risen… this war would already be over."
The boy blinked, uncertain. "But why?"
"Because the Dragon is not a soldier," she said. "He is a storm. And storms don't fight— they wash things away."
The child's gaze flicked to the flame of the only oil lamp in the room.
"Do you think he will rise again soon?" he asked. "The Next Dragon?"
"I do," she answered without hesitation. "I believe in him with every breath I take."
"Your father is unlucky to be born in a time where he could neither serve Lord Noah, because he was too young back when the Lord died.
And will likely be too old to serve the next Dragon, whoever that is.
But you, young Terry, you might be fortunate enough to join the Next Dragon's army–" She said with pride, as she stroked her son's head.
"We the Astrids have always supported the Dragon. It runs in our blood, and I know that someday you will do so too." The mother said with finality, as her son smiled and closed his eyes.
"The next Dragon, do you think he would want someone like me in his army?" The kid asked, as his mother chuckled at the question, her eyes moist.
"I think," she whispered, "If you eat well and grow tall and strong, he might just recruit you personally, young Terry."
He yawned.
"I will serve the next Dragon mother, I will make our family proud when I grow up."
She kissed his forehead.
"I know you will, my boy…. I know you will. You're a believer, just like your father and his father before him." she said, a soft smile breaking her lips, as she finally watched him drift asleep.