Primordial Awakening: Rise of the Legendary Dragon God-Chapter 112 - Elemental Sigil.

Eiravel’s gaze remained fixed on Kael, sharp and assessing, before she finally said, "Show me your elemental sigil."

Kael blinked once.

Then he tilted his head. "My... what?"

For the first time since the conversation began, Eiravel looked genuinely taken aback.

She slowly turned her head toward Lyra, Evethra, and Alenia—silent, incredulous, as if asking whether this was some elaborate joke.

The answer struck the girls simultaneously.

Lyra’s eyes widened slightly.

Alenia clicked her tongue under her breath.

Evethra stiffened.

"...We never told him," Lyra murmured.

Kael noticed the exchange immediately. "Alright," he said calmly, "now I know I’m missing something. What’s an elemental sigil?"

Alenia exhaled and stepped forward, rubbing her temple. "It’s... basic knowledge," she said. "Which makes this our fault."

They never told him about it because they didn’t think it was important since Kael was doing well even without knowing it.

Alenia then lifted her gaze to Kael. "An elemental sigil is a rune—something closer to a mark of existence than a spell. Every being is born with one. It shows their primary element. The element they’re most attuned to."

Lyra nodded. "Having one doesn’t mean you can only use that element, just that it comes more naturally. Some people even have mixed sigils—those with more than one dominant element."

"And those people," Alenia added, "are usually geniuses among geniuses."

Kael absorbed that silently.

Then Alenia lifted the sleeve of her dress, exposing her wrist. Etched into her skin was a dark, elegant rune—subtle, but unmistakable. It seemed to shimmer faintly, as if it didn’t fully belong to the physical world.

"The dream rune," she said.

It was something everyone back at her clan had.

Kael’s eyes flickered in recognition. He had seen that mark countless times while staying with her. He just never thought too much about it before.

Then Lyra followed, lifting her pant leg just enough to reveal her high ankle. A soft green rune rested there, shaped like intertwining leaves and flowing lines.

"Nature," she said.

Kael nodded slowly.

Evethra, however, remained still, as her sigil was at a place she couldn’t show here.

So, when Kael turned toward her, he smiled.

"I already know where yours is," he said, looking at her chest.

He had always thought that it was a tattoo until now.

Evethra, on the other hand, froze.

A faint crimson blush spread across her cheeks as she lowered her head, her bat-like wings twitching ever so slightly. "Y-Yes... you do."

Seeing their exchange, Lyra narrowed her eyes, her teeth gritting.

Alenia merely raised a brow.

Eiravel, however, cleared her throat. "Now, Kael," she said pointedly, "may I see yours?"

As he heard her, Kael shook his head. "That’s the problem. I don’t have one."

Silence.

Evethra lifted her head, blush fading as she nodded. "He doesn’t," she said matter-of-factly. "I’ve... inspected thoroughly."

That earned her several looks.

"...Thoroughly?" Alenia repeated.

Evethra coughed lightly and looked away.

Eiravel, however, frowned. "Impossible."

Evethra hesitated, then muttered, "I thought maybe dragons were just... different."

Eiravel’s expression sharpened. "Every being has a sigil."

Yes, even she, who was a tree, had one.

So, she stepped closer to Kael.

Too close.

Her presence pressed in like an ancient forest closing its branches. She leaned in until Kael could feel her breath against his face—cool, fragrant, impossibly old.

He didn’t flinch.

But to others, it looked like Kael and Eiravel were almost kissing.

So, Lyra stiffened, Alenia watched carefully, and Evethra’s wings twitched.

Then—

Eiravel’s eyes widened as if she found something.

"...Why," she murmured, her voice barely audible, "does he still have this on?"

Kael tilted his head slightly, catching the words but recognizing they weren’t meant for him. He stayed silent.

For a while, Eiravel kept muttering something, then she straightened just enough to look him in the eye.

"Kael," she said, slower now, "may I do something to you?"

"...That sounds ominous," he replied honestly. Then shrugged. "But sure."

She placed a finger against his chest, just above his heart.

"It might feel uncomfortable," she warned. "But it won’t harm you."

Kael nodded.

And as he did, the air rippled.

Just once.

The sensation hit him like pressure suddenly releasing—like stepping out of deep water. Something unseen peeled away from his body, and Kael sucked in a sharp breath, instinctively placing a hand over his chest.

"...What was that?" He asked.

Eiravel withdrew her hand, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time.

"A layer," she said quietly. "Something all dragons are born with. A seal of secrecy of sorts."

Her fingers curled slowly. "It’s meant to protect the baby dragons from other probing, but it’s supposed to be removed by their mothers in a year. Manually."

She looked troubled now. Truly troubled.

"Yours wasn’t," she continued. "And worse... It’s new. No more than two months old."

Kael frowned.

"That shouldn’t be possible," Eiravel finished. "You are far too old for this to exist."

For a while, Eiravel kept muttering to herself, frowning, thinking of scenarios.

Others, on the other hand, kept quiet.

The silence was not the heavy, crushing kind—but the wary stillness that came after something impossible had been spoken aloud.

Eiravel’s eyes turned to Kael. She studied Kael for a long moment, her eyes no longer sharp but searching.

"...Your mother," she said at last. "Did she encounter trouble?"

Her voice was careful now. Measured.

"No mother would leave that layer intact," Eiravel continued. "It exists only to shield newborn dragons from other dragons’ probing. And with dragons gone... There would be no reason to keep it. None."

Kael didn’t answer.

His expression didn’t change—but the lack of response itself was answer enough.

Evethra took a quiet step forward.

"He doesn’t remember," she said softly. "Anything from nearly two months ago. No memories. No parents. No past."

Eiravel frowned deeply.

"That should not be possible," she muttered. "No one can make a dragon forget something. After all, the dragons are immune to mind control or memory altering."

But as she recalled how Kael didn’t remember anything when he woke up while being healed by her, her frown deepened.

’Even at that time, he said that he didn’t remember anything.’

He was behaving as if he hadn’t left Vilonder half-dead—as if he believed that the guy was still a threat.

But from what her children had told her, Vilonder was already defeated by the time they arrived.

’Just what is going on with him?’ She wondered to herself, her expression stuck between curiosity and alarm.

Because whatever was causing his memories to disappear must be someone who is out of the norm.

While Eiravel’s mind was occupied with Kael, no one spoke.

The forest outside whispered, leaves brushing against one another like uneasy thoughts.

Then—clap.

Kael brought his hands together once, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Alright," he said, tone light but firm. "We’re getting sidetracked."

Several heads turned.

"Rue and Rina are still missing," he continued. "And we still haven’t clarified that thing about my talent. Let’s finish that."

Eiravel looked at him again—longer this time—then nodded slowly. "Very well."

She lifted a hand. "Try now. Sense the mana within you. Don’t control it—listen to it. There will be a knot. That is where your sigil resides."

Kael closed his eyes.

The world dimmed.

He let his awareness sink inward—past muscle, past bone, into the quiet current that always flowed beneath his skin. Mana answered him immediately, familiar and vast.

Then he felt it.

A tightening. A convergence.

"...Found it," he said.

Without warning, he snapped his fingers.

His shirt dissolved into black shadow, unraveling into nothing.

The reaction was instant.

Alenia froze mid-breath.

Lyra forgot how to blink.

Sylvaen’s ears flushed faintly pink.

Evethra outright stared, because even though she had seen it so many times, she felt like he was too perfect.

"...Kael," Eiravel said dryly, one brow lifting. "What are you doing?"

He shrugged. "You asked me to show it."

Then he turned.

His back was bare—lean, powerful, every muscle carved as if sculpted by intent rather than flesh. And there, just below the neckline, etched into his skin—

A sigil.

Black.

Perfect.

An infinity symbol.

As soon as their attention turned to it, the room inhaled as one.

"I’ve never seen that," Lyra whispered.

"What element is that?" Alenia asked slowly.

Even Eiravel didn’t answer.

Her eyes locked onto the symbol, ancient knowledge turning over and over—finding nothing.

Another silence followed.

Then Eiravel laughed softly.

"...You’re making me feel young again," she murmured. "As if the world still has secrets left to surprise me."

Kael raised a brow, still turned away. "So," he said, "does that mean I still have all my talent as I said?"

Eiravel stepped closer.

"Not verified yet."

She placed her hand over the sigil.

Mana flowed.

Nothing happened.

She frowned—and tried again.

And again.

And again.

Her expression shifted, subtle at first... then unmistakable.

Because she could see it.

Normally, when she touched a sigil, a gauge appeared—an abstract measure of talent remaining, draining, altered.

It was a way to measure talent—one that she had created.

With Kael—

The gauge manifested.

And it was full.

Completely.

Utterly.

Eiravel slowly withdrew her hand.

"...Impossible," she whispered.

Kael, taking that as an answer, smiled faintly.