By evening, sightings of dragons largely diminished. The lesser members of the Twelve Suns had covered a considerable area, though so far none had come across the real dragon. According to Abla, Pierce and his group had stumbled on another ruin fragment, though the dragons within it were no different from the batch they’d faced.

“Do we keep searching after dark?” Tors voiced the question only a sheltered would ask. At his level, he could easily stay awake for over a week, yet the capital had imposed different expectations.

The Count openly scoffed at the question, while Astra discreetly looked away.

“We’ll take a short break,” Abla said. “Get some rest in your realm.”

“I’m not tired,” Tors went on the defensive. “I’m just not sure it’ll be efficient. They see better than us and with only two Moons in the sky…”

“We’ll take a short break,” Abla repeated.

And he’s fighting to become an archduke, Dallion thought, looking at his cousin. While archdukes remained nobles, they were constantly on guard; with as many enemies inside the province as outside, they had to be.

Descending steadily to the ground, he ended his flight spell and undid the safety threads. While Tors went on a tirade coming up with explanations to excuse his question, Dallion moved away from the main group. Soon enough, he was joined by Abla.

“What do you think?” the noble asked in a hushed voice.

“Nothing much,” Dallion replied. “The Count has a lot more experience than me. He’ll—”

“I know what the Count thinks. I’m asking you.”

Dallion paused for a moment, then nodded.

“My guess would be that the dragon nest is in the rest of the ruins,” he said. “Wherever they are. My guess is that something must have shattered the structure recently and the realm with it. Probably the recent vortex pillars.”

“And the void mist circles?”

“I’m not sure,” Dallion admitted. “It’s not like we have any other leads. We’ve covered a tenth of the overall area and still no sign of the big one. At that speed, it might take us weeks to come upon the nest—months if we have to search the wilderness between realms.”

“I didn’t say I disagreed.” Abla gave Dallion a tap on the back. “You’re wrong about one thing. It wasn’t a vortex that shattered the ruin, but the Shimmering Circle.”

“Alien did this?!” Dallion was more astonished that the Alien had the strength to do anything of the sort.

“You think he wouldn’t?”

Couldn’t was a more likely explanation. Dallion remembered the archmage's indecision during the vortex fields battle. There was no way he could stand up to a dragon nest, even if the rest of the Circle were with him. Or maybe that’s what Abla was implying? Alien could have easily spotted the ruin from the sky. It’s possible he even saw a dragon, or felt the presence of one. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think that the mage would then cast a mass destruction spell, believing in his arrogance that it would be enough to deal with the issue. After that had failed, he’d quickly flee—the coward that he was—and come up with a convenient lie to cover up as much of his blunder as he could.

“On second thought, that’s exactly the sort of shit that he’d do,” Dallion said after a while. “What was he doing this far north, anyway?”

“Who knows? The important thing is that we find the temple.”

It was at this point that Dallion understood what the duke was really asking. One thing separated them from everyone else in the empire—they had the empathy trait. After having its nest attacked, the great dragon had likely used its magic to move it, hiding the ruin in the northern wilderness. Finding it would be next to impossible, even with magic. In this case, empathy was the grand exception. Thanks to it Dallion and Abla could communicate with item guardians tens, maybe hundreds of miles away. The same could be said for plants, creatures, and even dragons.

“You’re asking me to reach out to them, aren’t you?” Dallion glanced at the other three members of the party. The discussion continued, with Tors heating up more and more. “What makes you think I know the language?”

“The Alliance had a dragon,” Abla said. “And now that you’re married to its owner, so do you. Learn it, then teach me.” The determination emanating from the noble was unmistakable. “You don’t think I took a break so Tors could rest, did you?”

In all honesty, Dallion hadn’t given Abla so much credit. Being focused on the intricacies of so many other things, he had forgotten that anyone in the capital could be manipulative, and the charismatic, quiet people often tended to be the most manipulative of all.

“Give me a minute.” Dallion ventured into his personal realm.

PERSONAL AWAKENING

The bleakness around him disappeared, replaced by the vibrant colors of his realm. The entire western part of the sky was bright orange as the sun was halfway behind the horizon. All seven Moons shone brightly above, as if waiting to see what move he’d make.

“You never taught me real magic,” a voice said nearby.

Looking to the side, Dallion saw Ariel—the echo who he’d named protector of his realm. Despite having a laughably low level compared to his original, the echo had been taught quite a few useful skills and equipped with enough clay cylinders to stop a small army. That didn’t make him any less concerned.

Not the best time, Dallion thought, and instantly regretted it. His echoes could instantly read his thoughts.

“What real magic do you want?” he added quickly, correcting himself.

“Do you know anything that would stop Abla from invading your realm?” the echo asked. “Or an awakened dragon?”

Both concerns were valid, and the sad truth was that neither had a solution. No one had made a serious attempt to invade the realm in quite some time, but that didn’t make it impossible. As the saying went, it only took one attempt and Dallion would lose everything he had achieved.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Why worry about it now?” Dallion asked.

“Because someone has to be. You’re fighting all your battles on the outside, so we must protect the inside. You’ve gathered a lot of powerful creatures and guardians, but what if they aren’t enough?”

Dallion spent a few seconds looking at his white-haired echo. It wouldn’t be the first time Ariel had been disappointed in what he viewed as realm neglect, but this time there was more to it. Now, Dallion could see part of his own fears. They weren’t necessarily directed towards the dragons, or even Abla, but rather at what was to follow.

“Come along.” Dallion made his way towards the skill pillars of his realm.

A long time ago, back when he was still a single digit awakened, his acquired skills couldn’t even cover a tenth of a wall. They had grown so much since then that twelve massive pillars were needed to contain them all. Framed and labeled, they glittered upon the hard surface of colored marble. Between them, a massive blue rectangle floated, perpetually turned towards Dallion.

YOU ARE LEVEL 127

BODY: 104

MIND: 104

REACTION: 93

PERCEPTION: 100

EMPATHY: 83

MAGIC: 115

SKILLS

- GUARD: 100

- ATTACK: 100

- ACROBATICS: 100

- ATHLETICS: 100

- FORGING: 100

- SCHOLAR: 100

- ARTS: 100

- CARVING: 100

- MUSIC: 100

- ZOOLOGY: 100

- HERBALISM: 100

- SPELLCRAFT: 100

“Which one do you want?” Dallion asked, looking at the skill frames.

“Magic forging,” Ariel replied without hesitation. “That way I could make rockets.”

A very peculiar choice, but also impossible. While the skill was part of the forging group, it also required a high magic trait, which the echo didn’t have. The notion, however, gave Dallion an idea. The instant it formed in his mind, Ariel’s eyes widened.

“Are you serious?” the echo asked. “You’re not just—”

“I’m serious. And not just for you.”

“I…” It was a rare sight to see Ariel speechless. “I need to think about this.”

“Go ahead.” Dallion turned around, looking at the top of the scholar pillar. He, too, had to do some thinking of his own.

Among the many frames, there was one with the image of a dragon. In the entire world, there were probably two people who knew the dragon’s own language. Abla had asked for there to be a third. In regards to the hunt, the request was a no brainer. Two empaths using their skills to locate the dragon’s nest were a lot better than one. At the same time, the noble would earn himself a rather valuable prize, while Dallion would gain nothing.

“Any advice you can give me, Adzorg?”

“Yes,” a voice said next to Dallion. Only, it belonged to Giaccia. “Something is only valuable if it can be used. And right now, he can’t use it for anything.”

“What if that changes?”

“It won’t, because you’ll defeat the dragon.”

The nymph didn’t have to explain further. This was just another of the trials Dallion had to go through in order to reach his goal. The path to victory over Tamin and Tiallia lay through defeating a great dragon.

“Thanks.” The realm disappeared as Dallion returned to the twilight bleakness of the real world. His pupils took a fraction of a second to readjust, but that was enough for Abla to notice.

“Got it?” the noble asked.

Dallion nodded. The training took place in a neutral awakening realm—that of Abla’s relaxation ring. It was slightly awkward seeing the noble chase away a harem of exotic dancer echoes, but once that was over, the teaching process began. With both their scholar skills at their maximum, it took less than a day for Abla to learn dragon speech.

The noble was fully aware of the treasure he had been given, just as he found nothing wrong with taking it. Rank and title indeed came with their privileges.

Once the pair returned to the real world, the break was officially over. The party was split into two groups, each with their own empath. Astra and, unsurprisingly, Tors joined Abla, while the Count teamed up with Dallion. Each group went in its own direction, remaining in touch via echo rings. Then, the mental shouting began.

Hours passed. Night came and went and despite the level of Dallion’s empathy trait, his attempts were like the sound of a mosquito in the wilderness. All he could sense—other than the item guardians that he and the Count were wearing—was a vast nothing stretching in all directions.

“They haven’t found anything yet,” the Count said as the second evening approached. “Pierce came upon a large pack, but it wasn’t the nest.”

“Pity.” Dallion massaged his temples. Using empathy to call so far out was starting to stretch his limits.

“Don’t relax. The dragon might be a domain ruler.”

“Have you fought any domain ruler creatures?”

“Once. The creature won.”

A rather unusual admission. The old hunter didn’t seem the type that liked to share his failures.

“What creature was it?”

The Count looked back, but didn’t answer.

“Is that why you got your name erased?” Dallion pushed on.

“Are you really an Elazni?” The other countered.

“Some seem to think so. Others don’t consider me part of this world.”

The man shook his head, then started walking north east. After a few moments, Dallion joined him. Same as before, he split into a hundred instances, calling out to anything that could hear. For over an hour, there was no response. Just as the sun touched the horizon, a voice finally appeared.

Who are you? It was deep, powerful enough to fade away all of Dallion’s instances except one. Never before had he come across something capable of force splitting to such a degree. The notion made him treble.

A dragon hunter, Dallion replied, using his music skills to appear stronger than he was.

One of the magic toy-things, the voice said, amused. No, you’re different. You have empathy. A lot of empathy.

Immediately, Dallion cast a web of illusion around him. Even if the creature had seen some of his traits, the hesitation suggested it hadn’t seen all.

Trying to hide? The voice laughed. So amusing. Since the banishment of the dryads, there’s almost no one left with the empathy trait. Maybe I’ll spare you just because of that.

Dallion swallowed. Even from such a distance, the pressure exerted on him was considerable.

No, there’s too much magic in you to let such a valuable morsel go. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Since you found me, I’ll give you till dawn to collect the rest of the toy soldiers and come here. If you don’t, I’ll come to you.

You sure are confident, Dallion held his ground.

Why shouldn’t I be? Because you have the stench of a dragon whelp on you? There’s only one who could take me and he’s not here, the creature said, almost in a purr. I’ve raised my ruins. It’s your move, dragon hunter. I’ll be waiting.