DND Realms: The Rise of the Titan-Dragon Prodigy

"Smart little fellow!" Ulysses praised Muria with a smile when he heard the latter's conjecture. While extracting desired information from the highly potent demonic energy, he observed Muria, who had gradually stabilized.

"You've practiced the Art of Soul Hosting and Weapon Refinement," Ulysses recognized Muria's condition and evaluated the technique, "It's a technique with great potential."

"Potential?" Muria showed a hint of curiosity, as it was his first time hearing that a secret technique could be described in terms of potential.

"This technique is not yet finalized and is imperfect. The avatars formed from exclusive weapons possessing a third of the original's combat power is not its limit; there's still tremendous potential to be explored," Ulysses explained patiently.

"The avatars could possess even stronger combat capabilities." Muria's eyes lit up at the thought. Imagine if each weapon-evolved avatar could possess all, or even seventy percent, of the original's combat strength, even if just for a brief period, it could overwhelm many foes.

"Unfortunately, the Titan who created this technique is no longer in the world of Erathia," Ulysses sighed lightly, his eyes showing unmistakable regret. "He ventured into the void nearly ten thousand years ago and has yet to return."

Muria bowed his head slightly in silence. Nearly ten thousand years was a vast amount of time, ample for accomplishing anything, including ascending to godhood or advancing to epic status. That the Titan had not returned after such a long time suggested a high probability that he had perished in the void.

"This was a Titan I watched grow up, just like you, he was a genius," Ulysses looked at Muria. "You are doing well now, keep it up. Remember, becoming epic is not just about talent."

"I will remember your teachings," Muria bowed deeply in respect, grateful for the advice and reminder.

"Little lady, do you understand now?" After imparting a few words to Muria, Ulysses turned his warm smile to the Gold Dragon Mother, who continued the bloodline for the Titan race, essentially making her kin.

"There are some things I don't understand," the Gold Dragon Mother honestly replied, her eyes full of anticipation and the thirst for knowledge typical of mages seeking to grow stronger.

"These are ancient demonic runes, born in an era as old as the scripts of ancient gods. It's impressive enough for any legendary being to be aware of them, and you even understand some. It seems Archimonde wasn't wrong in praising your potential to become a Dragon King," Lord Ulysses remarked with appreciation when he heard the Gold Dragon Mother's response.

"I am far from becoming a Dragon King right now; dreaming too far ahead is futile. Taking steady, solid steps is the true path," the Gold Dragon Mother replied humbly before her elder.

"Indeed!" Ulysses looked even more approving upon hearing her words, then extended a finger, and a beam of light fell into the Gold Dragon Mother's forehead. "Reflect on this well!"

"You all step back now. Little lady, take good care of your son, let him clearly see what I am about to do."

"Crackling!" The sound of thunder flashing rang in Muria's ears as the thunders wrapped around Lord Ulysses transformed into chains, each imprinted with ancient demonic runes extracted from the demonic energy.

"Clattering!" Hundreds of substantial golden and black chains, like dragons and snakes, coiled around Ulysses, producing a crisp metallic sound.

"Go!" Ulysses commanded softly, and hundreds of chains moved at once, piercing through space and, following the sensation from the runes, shot towards the Abyss...

Across the blood and sulfur-scented plains of Myriads Abyss, the atmosphere quivered, spreading an indescribable aura that unsettled the myriad beings living there. Subsequently, countless winged demons saw hundreds of black and gold chains crossing the sky.

Feeling the presence on these chains clearer now, the lower and middle-rank demons knelt in worship, paying homage to their overlord.

"Titans!" In a certain part of the Myriads Plains, a five-headed dragon surrounded by ancient dragons glanced at the chains in the sky. After a moment of hesitation, it dismissed the idea of causing trouble. Anything else would bring Titan's hostility without any benefits.

In the sixth layer of the Abyss, the Land of Thousand Eyes, an entity composed entirely of eyeballs, corpulent in form, watched the chains cross his realm with domineering aggression. After a brief observation, this being worshiped by countless eye demons simply closed all its eyes, opting for 'out of sight, out of mind.'

...Frozen Wasteland... Abyssal Web... Smargard... Lord Ulysses's chains passed through layer after layer of the Abyss, boldly and majest

ically, without any intention to conceal their presence, thoroughly disregarding the demon lords and malevolent gods.

Indeed, they lived up to Ulysses's disdain. Crossing eighty-seven layers of the Abyss, not a single lord or deity intervened; they all endured silently, or perhaps, were waiting for something to happen.

Finally, the chains were stopped at the eighty-eighth layer. More precisely, their target was this layer—to capture its lord.

"Ulysses, this is my realm, it's not your place to swagger here." In the vast, stinking waters, the twisted form of the demon overlord, striding upon his own city and displaying a much larger true form than his projection in Erathia, lashed out with his tentacle-like serpentine arms at the chains in the sky.

"Is that so?" A voice tinged with disdain rang out, and as Dimogorgen looked on in humiliated fury, the chains he shattered reformed and coiled towards him again.

"Roar! I am the master of the Brackish Marsh. Here, I am invincible." Dimogorgen roared, attacking the chains again, but it seemed futile as the chains, even if broken, would continue to wrap around him.

Finally, amid Dimogorgen's humiliating roars, he was bound by hundreds of chains and dragged bit by bit towards their origin, seemingly attempting to pull him out of the Abyss.

"Ulysses, don't you dare lay a hand on me!" Dimogorgen roared, struggling desperately under the empowerment of the Brackish Marsh, breaking chain after chain.

This time, the chains did not reform, but the remaining unbroken chains thickened, making Dimogorgen's struggles increasingly futile...

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