Chapter 172: Ancestral Memories!

After the breakthrough, Albedo left that room, and the HeartForge had also slept at last. A large amount of Infernus Smiths took the moons rising as their signal to head to sleep, with only the occasional Smith remaining to practice their craftsmanship.

After hours of hammer-song and roaring flame, the forge had settled into a deep, molten rhythm, a steady breath of the mountain itself. The rivers of lava flowed quietly through their channels, the air still shimmering faintly with leftover mana.

Albedo had moved to the dormitory chambers that was prepared for him and his classmates by the Infernus Smiths. The room was decent enough, enchanted by spatial formations to increase the area of the room.

It was carved from obsidian and basalt, glowing faintly from the veins of magma running through the walls, and the air was warm, but they had the ability to cool the room using various formations.

He was currently asleep, as he knew the group would be leaving The HeartForge late in the evening the next day, so he needed to recharge his batteries.

As he was sleeping, he dreamt, and the dream began as a whisper.

A distant sound, that was very deep and ancient, an immense power beyond his current own level, more vibration than voice. It was the kind of voice that shook not just Albedo’s ears but also his very soul.

Then, he begun having visions, or flashes, all of which began displaying the same or similar kind of story.

A sky filled with fire, rampaging flames burning regions to ash, mountains burning, volcanoes erupting and oceans boiling over.

And above all of the visions were the same figures, Dragons!

Absolutely colossal beings of pure unfettered power and divinity. Wings that could blot of sunlight, eyes that glowed like stars, and roars that split mountains. It was a level of insurmountable power.

While Saphira was most likely just as powerful as the Dragons in these visions, seeing them in their natural form almost added another level of awe.

Not the small, proud creatures men told stories of, but colossal beings of pure divinity.

And at the center of them all, a heart. A massive, flaming heart, beating like the sun itself. Each pulse sent waves of light across the world. Each beat carried a word, a sound so old it wasn’t meant for human tongues.

“Yav’shar. Nur’Kael. Drath’uun…”

The words tore through his mind, scorching his thoughts, branding themselves into the core of his being.

He gasped, though in the dream, it came out as a burst of flame.

Images flooded him in rapid succession. Ancient dragons flying through eternal storms, carving runes of power into the bones of mountains. Scales that gleamed like molten metal, wings that carried entire kingdoms on their backs.

And beneath it all, a pulse. Familiar. Resonant.

His own.

The Flame Dragon Heart. It was beating in unison with something ancient, something primordial that transcended time.

Then came the knowledge that immediately flooded his brain. It wasn’t as if he was necessarily leaning this knowledge, but instead just remembering it, as if it was deeply buried memories only now coming to light.

Runes and glyphs spiraled through his consciousness, forming words in a tongue he somehow understood: the Ancient Dragon Language, a divine script of fire, soul, and creation.

Each word carried immense power, shaping reality itself. He saw incantations carved into the air, forming blazing circles that burned into his vision.

“Vael’Noth – Flame that devours flame.”

“Drathos’Rynn – The Heart Reborn.”

“Vyr’Kalem – Flesh of the Half-Born.”

The last phrase struck deep, and suddenly the vision changed again.

He saw himself, humanoid still, but not quite human. His arms were lined with deep crimson scales, his eyes slitted and glowing gold. Runes of fire burned faintly beneath his skin. When he exhaled, flame rippled between his teeth like a dragon suppressing its roar.

The Half-Dragon Form.

It wasn’t a full transformation, but a fusion using the precision of the Humanoid Form and Draconic Power. His muscles radiated unmatched strength and his aura blazed like an inferno contained in flesh.

Then came the final surge, knowledge pouring into him like liquid fire. Spellforms, runes, ancient techniques only known to Dragons, some of which were completely lost to time.

Draconic Spells.

Each one was alive, an echo of creation magic tied to the bloodline of Dragons themselves. They didn’t require chanting or focus; they responded to will. All Albedo needed to do was will

“Vyr’Shal — Breath of Annihilation.”

“Tirn’Vakra — Molten Aegis.”

“Rath’Quorr — Heart’s Domain.”

The runes ignited across his mind’s eye, etching themselves into his memory. Many more spells burned themselves into his mind, and once all of them were finished, Albedo saw the last vision.

A colossal dragon sleeping beneath a dying sun. Its scales were a blend of gold and black, its breath reshaping the void around it. When it opened its eyes, Albedo saw himself reflected in them.

Not as a man and not even as a warrior, but as a being walking the razor’s edge between mortality and divinity. And then the voice came again, vast, echoing from the depths of eternity:

“The Heart remembers, Child of Fire. And through it, you shall never fade.”

The words resonated through his soul, and everything went white.

Suddenly, Albedo jolted awake. His eyes snapped open, blazing gold for a moment before dimming back to blue. His chest heaved as he drew in a sharp breath. The warmth of the forge had returned,but it wasn’t the same.

It was alive.

He could feel every ember in the air, every spark in the molten veins beneath the floor. The mana of the forge responded to him now, as if recognizing its kin.

He sat up slowly, his heart still pounding. His Flame Dragon Heart pulsed visibly through his shirt, each beat echoing faintly with golden light.

Then he noticed something new.

When he exhaled, faint wisps of flame escaped his lips, not mana, not conjured fire, but breath. Draconic flame.

He stared at his hands, flexing his fingers. A faint shimmer of red-gold scales flickered along his knuckles before fading back into skin.

The memories were still there, etched into his mind with terrifying clarity. The Dragon Language. The Spells. The transformation.

And beneath it all, a quiet truth resonating within his Flame Dragon Heart.

He no longer needed to constantly train like everyone else to grow. Just like other Dragons, he would now grow stronger naturally with time, his power refining itself with age. Training would only improve this pace of improvement.

“…Half-Dragon,” he whispered softly, tasting the word as a faint ember rolled off his tongue. “Guess I really am turning into something else.”

He smiled faintly, closing his eyes once more. The forge hummed around him like a heartbeat.

With that finishing, morning quickly came to the HeartForge. The molten rivers continued running, while the sky beyond the mountain cracks shimmered with the moons sinking beneath the horizon, painting the world in dim gold and blood-red light.

Albedo stood at the edge of his obsidian balcony, the faint warmth of the forge-breath brushing across his face. His platinum-blonde hair caught the glow of the lava below, each strand a thread of molten light.

He flexed his hand once, a ripple of gold flickered beneath his skin, the faint shimmer of scales flashing before fading. His heartbeat was calm but heavy, each pulse resonating with that new, ancient rhythm.

He could feel it now, the latent heat coiling inside him, deeper and denser than before. Every breath drew in energy, every heartbeat refined it. The realization left him almost dizzy.

Even standing still, he was evolving, continuously and holistically improving himself.

The dream lingered in fragments, flashes of wings that could swallow the heavens, fire that devoured gods, a voice that whispered through eternity.

’The Heart remembers, Child of Fire…’

He exhaled slowly. A faint shimmer of golden smoke left his lips.

“Half-Dragon,” he murmured again, testing the word like it was both alien and sacred. His reflection in the magma below smirked faintly back at him. “Guess I wasn’t imagining it.”

The Flame Dragon Heart thrummed in silent agreement.

He rolled his shoulders, feeling the raw, coiled potential under his skin, the promise of wings, fire, and dominion. But even as the excitement flickered in his chest, instinct whispered caution.

No one could know yet. Not Lucian, not Lilian, not even Branthor. Not until he understood it completely.

This was his trump card, his hidden evolution, he needed to use it at a good moment to land a good shot against the Abyss, as it was a weapon that could turn the tide when he was potentially on the back-foot in a battle.

His lips curved slightly. “Let’s see how far I can push this… once we leave this place.”

He looked back at the forge one last time. The colossal HeartForge glowed faintly in the dawn, embers rising like fireflies from its depths, as if it too was acknowledging his transformation.

And Albedo, no longer just human, no longer bound by the same rules as before, would walk it with fire in his veins and the legacy of Dragons burning within his soul.

He turned from the balcony, cloak shifting against the heat, and whispered to the still air, a hint of excitement beneath his calm tone:

“Let’s see what happens next,”

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