Chapter 115: Chapter 115: Blood That Is Envied By Gods

[ Status ]

[ Name: Adonis Kingsbane ]

[ Age: 18 ]

[ Race: Primordial Chaos Dragon ]

[ Constitution: Primordial Chaos Dragon Physique (Stage 3) ]

[ Level: 21 | Exp: 3,550/75,000 ]

[ Health: 189 / 203 ]

[ Strength: 584 ]

[ Agility: 683 ]

[ Intelligence: 280 ]

[ Defense: 164 ]

[ Charm: 140 ]

[ Luck: 148 ]

[ Ether: 10,500 ]

[ Unassigned Attribute Points: 0 ]

[ Special Traits: Universal Language, Boundless Stamina, Touch Of Lust, Valkyrion ]

[ Sword Soul: Chaotic Harem Sword (B) ]

[ Sword Arts: Chaos Ultima (B), Relentless Thrust (C), Backdoor Severance Style (C) ]

___

[ CHAOTIC HAREM SWORD (Taboo) ]

[ Current Stage: B | 25,600/25,000 HF ]

[ Attack Power: 201 ]

[ Defense: 205 ]

[ Special Traits: Boundless Stamina, Touch Of Lust, Chaotic Harem Body, Valkyrion ]

[ Current Harem Members: 4 ]

[ Main Wife: Not Chosen Yet ]

[ Concubines: Millia Arwen, Mariana Von Magnus ]

___

After glancing at his status once, Adonis stepped outside the house.

Outside, the dwellings were primitive. Some even looked like massive nests.

Ordinary dragons who could not transform lived in those massive nests, while the noble blooded who could transform lived in arc houses. Some lived alone, and some lived with family.

However, the dragon kin’s population seemed very low compared to human kingdoms. If he had to guess, there were just a little over ten thousand dragons remaining in the Land of Dragons.

Nonetheless, it was a relatively peaceful place.

While wandering between these cave shaped houses, the dragons cast him overly curious glances. They pointed at him, whispering among themselves in awe and astonishment, as if they had laid eyes on their savior after ages of waiting.

The whispers spread faster than he could walk.

He caught fragments of them as he moved between the cave shaped houses and the massive nests, pieces of sentences in the dragon tongue that his Universal Language trait translated without effort.

“The Progenitor’s heir.”

“He has finally come, just as the prophecies said.”

“He is here. He is truly here.”

Several of the smaller dragons, those in their transformed human-like forms, approached him with wide, reverent eyes. An older female with deep green scales along her jaw and neck stepped forward first, her voice careful and respectful.

“Honored Successor. Are you well? Your battle reached our ears even here.”

“I am fine now,” Adonis replied simply. “Thank you for asking.”

The relief that moved through the gathered crowd at those four words was visible and immediate, shoulders dropping, breath releasing, the particular collective exhale of people who have been holding something tightly and have just been given permission to let it go.

He continued walking, and the crowd followed at a respectful distance, growing larger as more dragons emerged from their dwellings to see what the gathering was about.

It was then that an old couple approached him, moving through the crowd with the careful, determined pace of people who have made up their minds and will not be deterred by the presence of others.

The male was broad and weathered, his scaled skin the deep grey of old stone. The female beside him was smaller, her eyes carrying the particular exhaustion of someone who has been worrying about something for a very long time.

Between them, held gently in the female’s arms, was a small black dragon.

It was young. Perhaps newly hatched by dragon standards. Its scales were dull where they should have been vivid, its small frame thinner than it should have been, its breathing carrying a faint, audible effort that healthy young dragons should not need to make.

The old male bowed deeply, lower than the others had, the bow of someone setting aside whatever pride they had left in service of something more important.

“Honored Progenitor’s Successor, please forgive this old dragon for approaching you so boldly. This is our grandchild, Raza.”

He paused, hesitating briefly. “He was born weak. He cannot hunt. Cannot call his element. The healers say his bloodline is too diluted to support a healthy constitution.” Another pause. “We have heard that Primordial blood carries the power to strengthen even the weakest bloodline. We beg you, honored one. A single blessing. That is all we ask.”

Adonis looked at the small black dragon in the female’s arms.

Raza looked back at him with eyes that were too large for his thin face, deep amber and completely without guile, the eyes of something young enough to not yet understand its own situation but old enough to feel the weight of the worry surrounding it.

Adonis was quiet for a moment.

He was not certain his blood would work the way they hoped. Primordial Chaos Dragon blood was not something anyone had extensive documentation on. The variables were significant and the potential for unintended consequences was real.

He looked at Raza again.

Then he crouched down to the old female’s level and held out his hand.

“Set him down,” he said gently.

She did, carefully, and Raza wobbled on his small legs but stayed upright, sniffing at Adonis’s extended hand with cautious curiosity.

Adonis produced a short blade from within his robe, made a clean cut across his wrist, and held it forward.

“Drink,” he said quietly to Raza.

Raza sniffed once more, then pressed his small mouth to the cut and drank.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then everything happened at once.

BZZZZZZZ!

The change moved through Raza’s small body like a current through water, visible from the outside as a rapid, successive brightening of his scales from dull to vivid, from thin and uncertain to dense and defined.

His frame filled out. His breathing evened. His small wings, which had been pressed flat against his back, spread outward instinctively and held themselves there with a steadiness they had not possessed thirty seconds ago.

Then Raza opened his mouth and produced a small, perfect tongue of black flame.

He looked at it with enormous eyes.

Then he looked at Adonis.

Then he made a sound that was somewhere between a chirp and a rumble, and pressed his newly solid little head firmly against Adonis’s palm.

The old female made a sound she immediately tried to suppress, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. The old male stood very straight and looked at a point somewhere above Adonis’s head, blinking with the frequency of someone managing something they do not wish to display publicly.

“Thank you,” the old male said while crying. “Honored Successor. Thank you.”

Word traveled at the speed that only genuinely extraordinary news travels.

Within minutes, the crowd had tripled. Within a few more, it had tripled again. Dragons of every size and age and bloodline grade pressed forward from every direction, their voices overlapping into a continuous, rising sound that was somewhere between prayer and desperate appeal.

“Please, honored one, my daughter’s scales have been failing since birth.”

“My son cannot hold his element for more than a second.”

“Just a drop, honored Successor. Just one drop.”

Adonis gave what he could. He moved through the crowd methodically, making small cuts, allowing small amounts, watching the Primordial blood work its way through constitution after constitution with results that varied in degree but not in direction.

Every dragon it touched improved. Some dramatically. Some subtly. All of them noticeably.

But the crowd was not shrinking. It was growing.

The energy of the gathering had shifted from reverent to something with more heat in it, more urgency, the specific hunger of people who have been without something for a very long time and have just been shown that it exists and is accessible.

The pressing forward became less orderly.

“Me, me, me….”

“Old fool, you’re already one step to the grave. My son comes first.”

The ground beneath the gathering began to tremble faintly as dozens of partially suppressed draconic auras bled outward simultaneously, the combined pressure of too many powerful beings in too small a space all oriented toward the same point.

Even the ground around them shook.

Adonis felt the first genuine press of bodies against him from multiple directions and recognized the specific quality of the situation for what it was.

“Looks like you’re in trouble, boy.”

All of a sudden, a hand closed around his arm.

Firm. Calm. Completely unbothered by the chaos surrounding it.

He turned to see an old man in a white robe stood beside him, his face deeply lined and entirely serene, his white hair pulled back simply, his eyes carrying the particular quality of someone who has seen many things become urgent and has never once found urgency to be a useful response.

He said nothing. He simply began walking, his grip on Adonis’s arm steady and unhurried, moving through the crowd with the ease of someone the crowd instinctively parted for without fully understanding why.

Adonis went with him.

Behind them, the gathering gradually realized its focal point had gone and began, slowly and with some confusion, to disperse.

The old man walked until the noise was behind them, then released Adonis’s arm and clasped both hands behind his back.

“You have a generous nature, My lord.” he said mildly. “But not everyone deserve this kindness.

For now, you need to visit that human girl. She is waiting with mad desperation to see you.”

There could be only one person befitting that description.

Mariana.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep