The Dragon Palace.

Adonis sat at the head of the breakfast table, his loose robe sliding off one shoulder as he reviewed a series of glowing reports hovering in the air. Beside him, Sapphira was gracefully peeling a blood-orange, while Millia watched the shadows in the corner of the room dance to her silent whim.

​The peace was interrupted by the arrival of a messenger raven made of pure shadow. It dissolved into a scroll in front of Adonis, the ink pulsing with a frantic red light.

​"Oh, the Church has finally grown desperate enough to play their last card," Adonis said, his voice carrying a dark amusement.

​Sapphira paused, her violet eyes narrowing. "The summoning? I thought their ether reserves were too depleted after you annexed the Western Leylines."

​"They used life-force sacrifices," Adonis replied, his expression turning cold. "Twelve priests and seven maidens. A high price to pay for a boy in a hoodie."

​Millia drifted closer, her voice a melodic haunting. "A Hero? From the other side? Does he smell of the stars, husband?"

​"He smells of Earth," Adonis said, standing up.

The air in the room crackled with his sudden intent.

"He thinks he is in a game. He thinks he knows the rules of this world because he stole the scripts of the man who dreamed it. But he doesn’t realize that I am the one who woke the dream up and gave it teeth."

​Adonis walked to the balcony, looking out toward the spires where his most elite aerial units were perched.

​"Vexa," he commanded into the air.

​The holographic interface of his system flickered into existence.

"Yes, Master? You seem agitated. Is it the Hero? I’ve already pinpointed the spatial ripple near the Temple of Ascalon."

​"Send the Sky Dragon Squadron," Adonis ordered. "Not the hatchlings. Send the Crimson Elders. I want this ’Hero’ brought to me alive. I want to see the look on his face when he realizes that his holy powers are useless against a living, breathing Emperor."

​Within minutes, three massive shapes detached themselves from the highest peaks of the Dragonia towers. These were not the common wyverns used for transport. They were Sky Dragons, ancient beings of scales and thunder, their wingspan wide enough to cast a city block into total darkness.

"Roarrrrrr!"

They roared, a sound that shook the windows of the palace, before vanishing into the clouds at supersonic speeds.

​Five hundred miles to the East, in the jagged canyons of the Iron Wastes, a battle was raging.

​"Stay behind me, Elara! Keep the healing spells coming!" Theodore shouted, his voice cracking with adrenaline.

​He was no longer wearing his hoodie. He was clad in shimmering silver plate armor that glowed with a divine light. Beside him stood a woman with hair like moonlight, the Priestess of the Silver Moon, and a massive man wielding a great-axe who looked like he had been carved from the canyon walls.

​Opposite them was a Wild Drake, a territorial beast of green scales and acid breath. It was a high-level mob in the original game files of Sword Evolution Online, a perfect target for Theodore to level up his new party.

​"Hero! The beast is preparing its breath attack!" the Priestess cried out, her staff glowing with a soft lunar radiance.

​"I know!" Theodore smirked, sliding into a low stance. "In the game, this thing has a three-second wind-up and a blind spot under its left wing. Watch this!"

​Theodore surged forward, the Holy Sword of Ascalon erupting with a blade of pure sunlight. He moved with a speed that defied physics, a "cheat" he had mastered by exploiting the ether-flow he remembered from Liam’s notes. With a triumphant shout, he buried the blade into the Drake’s throat.

​The beast let out a final, gurgling roar and collapsed, its body dissolving into golden particles of experience.

​"Incredible!" the Berserker laughed, slamming his axe onto his shoulder. "I’ve never seen a man move like that. You really are the one the prophecy spoke of."

​Theodore wiped a smudge of dirt from his visor, feeling a surge of arrogant pride. "Prophecy? Please. I just know where the hit-boxes are. At this rate, we’ll reach the Dragon Capital in two weeks and end this farce."

​"Do you really think it will be that easy?" Elara asked, her eyes searching the sky. "The Dragon Emperor is not a Wild Drake. They say he commands the heavens themselves."

Theodore dismissed her concern:

​"He’s an anomaly, Elara. A bug in the system. I’ve analyzed the history. He didn’t exist in the original timeline. He’s just someone who got lucky with a high-level spawn. Once I hit Level 90, I’ll delete him from the server."

​Suddenly, the wind in the canyon changed. It didn’t just blow; it screamed. The temperature dropped forty degrees in an instant, and the sun was suddenly blotted out by three massive, overlapping shadows.

​"What is that?" the Berserker growled, looking up. "A storm?"

​"No," Theodore whispered, his face going pale as he looked at the sky. "Those aren’t clouds."

​The three Crimson Elder Sky Dragons descended like falling stars. They hovered a hundred feet above the canyon floor, the sheer force of their wing-beats creating a localized hurricane that sent rocks and debris flying.

Their scales were a deep, blood-red, and their eyes glowed with a terrifying intelligence.

​Then, a voice projected through magic and the sheer resonance of the dragons’ lungs, boomed through the canyon.

​"Theodore Vance! By order of His Imperial Majesty, Adonis Kingsbane, your journey ends here. You will come with us to Dragonia to answer for your trespass."

​Theodore’s party scrambled into defensive positions.

"Fucker! Who’s talking?" the Berserker roared. "Show yourself, lizards!"

​"The dragons are speaking through a telepathic link!" Julian, the party’s mage who had been quiet until now, shrieked in terror. "Theodore, those aren’t Wild Drakes! Those are Ancient Class monsters! They shouldn’t even be in this zone!"

​Theodore gripped the Holy Sword of Ascalon, his knuckles turning white.

"I don’t care what class they are! This is a scripted event, it has to be! If I win here, the loot will be insane!"

​He leaped into the air, aiming a Sunlight Slash at the lead dragon’s chest.

"Die, you overgrown lizards!" he cackled maniacally.

​The lead Sky Dragon didn’t even flinch. It simply opened its maw and let out a roar of pure concussive force. The golden light of Theodore’s sword shattered like glass, and the "Hero" was sent tumbling backward through the air, slamming into the canyon wall with a bone-jarring thud.

​"Theodore!" Elara screamed, rushing toward him with a healing ward.

​The second dragon descended, its massive claws swiping through the air. The Berserker tried to block with his axe, but the weapon snapped like a toothpick.

Whoosh...

The man was swatted aside like a common housefly, sent sprawling across the jagged rocks.

​"You are a child playing with a toy," the dragon’s voice echoed in Theodore’s head, dripping with disdain. "You speak of ’judgement’ and ’freedom.’ But you have no idea where you are, little thief."

​Theodore struggled to stand, his armor cracked and his vision swimming.

"This... this isn’t right. My stats are high enough! I’m the Hero! Why aren’t my attacks connecting?"

​"Because your ’Hero’ status was granted by a dying Church, while our power was granted by the Emperor who owns the very air you breathe. You are outmatched, Theodore Vance. Surrender, and we might not crush your friends into the dirt."

​"Never!" Theodore hissed.

He looked at his party: Elara was trembling, the Berserker was unconscious, and Julian was curled into a ball.

"Everyone! Use the Escape Scroll! Now!" he shouted.

​"But Theodore!" Elara cried.

​"DO IT!"

​Julian fumbled with a silver scroll, tearing it open.

Soon, a blue light began to envelop the party, a high-level teleportation spell designed for desperate retreats.

​The lead Sky Dragon narrowed its eyes. "A cowardly move. Very well. Let them run. The Emperor said to bring the Hero, but he did not say he couldn’t be hunted a bit longer."

​The dragon opened its mouth and released a blast of crimson fire at the ground beneath them.

BOOOM!

The explosion disrupted the mana-flow of the teleportation.

​The blue light flickered and sputtered. Theodore felt his body being torn apart by the unstable portal.

​"Go!" Theodore shoved Elara into the center of the light just as the spell stabilized.

​With a deafening crack of displaced air, the party vanished.

But as the dust settled, Theodore realized the spell hadn’t taken them where they intended. Instead of the safety of the Holy city, they had been scattered across the borderlands.

​Theodore collapsed onto his knees, his sword clattering to the ground. He looked up at the three massive dragons circling above him like vultures.

​"You ran well, little Hero," the lead dragon rumbled. "But you can’t run from the horizon. The Emperor is waiting."

​Theodore looked at the violet sky in the distance, his heart hammering with a fear he hadn’t felt since the night he killed Liam.

This wasn’t a game. There were no save points.

He would die!

Just then—

"Who dares to kill the divine spawn?"