Power of Runes

[A/N: I just edited the chapter names of the past four chapters. If you want to check them out, go ahead. If not, no worries—it won't affect the story and might save you some time.]

***

There was once a time when the Dragons were not so hostile. Well... maybe calling them "friendly" would be a bit too much, but at the very least, they weren't openly hostile to the other races like they are now.

Back then, dragons still had enough patience to talk. They were willing to sit down, communicate, maybe even negotiate when it benefited them. Their pride was great, but their actions were measured.

But all of that crumbled eight hundred years ago.

Most of the humans who lived during that time have long since passed away, their memories lost to dust and legend. Yet, Dragons, with their long lifespans, remember everything.

And they are not the only ones. A handful of high-ranking powerhouses from other races still recall what happened back then—because the world changed forever.

It all began with a single human child.

There was nothing remarkable about him at first glance. He was neither strong nor talented. In fact, most people considered him the weakest of his generation. But what set him apart... was his class.

Dragon Slayer.

No one paid much attention to him at the beginning.

He was weak, and the name of the class felt more like a cliché than anything threatening. But fate has a strange way of turning weakness into legend.

By sheer chance, that boy killed a low-tier Draconic Beast deep within a rarely explored dungeon.

And absorbed its power.

That one kill changed everything.

He discovered he could absorb the strength and traits of any draconic species he defeated, even if they only carried the faintest trace of dragon blood in their veins.

From that day on, he made it his purpose to seek them out. He began hunting down lesser monsters, those with diluted dragon bloodlines, clearing dungeons with a relentless hunger.

Years passed. His power grew to the point where he no longer needed to fight low-level monsters.

He began tracking down Lesser Dragons, quietly assassinating them in the shadows, vanishing without a trace each time.

And with every heartbeat, his strength surged higher—without limit.

Greed took hold of him. It wasn't enough anymore. And eventually, he killed a young dragon.

That was when everything turned into chaos.

The Dragons exploded with rage. They no longer saw him as a threat to be ignored or underestimated. He became a menace that had to be extinguished at any cost. They began hunting him with relentless fury, unleashing their full strength to erase his existence.

For forty-five years, the chase continued.

In that time, he killed more Dragons than anyone could count. His legend became a curse. He was no longer just a Dragon Slayer.

He was a calamity.

People feared him. Some admired him. But the dragons hated him with everything they had.

Eventually, the dragons gave an ultimatum to the other races. Help us kill him, or face war. A war that would burn the world, even if it meant everyone perishing together.

Humans were the most affected by the threat. The Dragon Slayer was one of their own. But faced with extinction, they had no choice.

One man's life versus the survival of an entire race. The decision was cruel, but it was clear.

And so, the hunt intensified.

Even the races that once ignored him turned against him. They feared his potential. They feared what he could become.

After another five years of fighting, running, and surviving, the Dragon Slayer finally died.

But the dragons were not satisfied. Their fury didn't stop with his death. To protect their future, they isolated their entire continent, shifting it to the center of the ocean and forbidding any outsider from stepping foot onto their land ever again.

That cursed name, which had been buried for centuries, suddenly echoed once more.

"I am… a Dragon Slayer."

Ash's voice rang out, laced with a teasing tone, a smirk hidden beneath the mask. The moment those words reached the ears of the Dragon Elders, killing intent exploded from all ten of them like a storm of blades.

It was suffocating.

Ash's body trembled slightly under the weight of their power, but not from fear. He did not regret saying it.

He had attacked first not out of strategy or desperation, but because he hated being looked down upon.

The memory of someone gripping his neck—the same scene he had seen millions of times in that silent space —triggered something deep him.

He remembered too well what it felt like to be weak and dismissed. He remembered the shame, the helplessness.

And he had enough.

Even now, when he was far from his full strength, even while standing at the center of the storm, surrounded by beings that could crush him like an insect—he stood his ground.

He would no longer hide.

He would no longer rely on timid caution.

If the world was going to crush him, then he would at least roar back with everything he had.

The white Dragon, Alarion, turned to Ariel and spoke in a voice that held quiet coldness, the kind that settled into one's bones.

"Make sure his screams echo throughout the entire chamber."

Hearing that, Ariel grinned, his expression twisted with something old and bitter.

"Of course," he replied, his voice low and filled with unpleasant memories. "He reminded me of something I would rather forget."

Still holding Ash by his neck, Ariel lifted his other hand and reached for Ash's face, intending to rip off the mask that concealed his identity.

But as his fingers tried to pull it away, the mask did not move.

Ariel's brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion passing over his face.

What is this?

He pulled harder, putting more strength into it. Ash's neck was forced forward under the pressure, but the mask remained fixed, refusing to come off.

"Seems like that mask is not just a decoration," the Space Dragon said, his violet eyes narrowing in interest.

"It might be a high-grade item. Maybe even Mythical rank," the Blue Dragon murmured with uncertainty. "But those kinds of items are extremely rare, almost like unicorns. How could a mutt like him possess one?"

Ariel was clearly irritated now, but he kept his emotions in check. He did not let his anger take control.

He turned his gaze toward the Red and Grey Dragons and spoke with calm authority.

"You two, hold his head steady. If I apply more force, his neck might snap off entirely."

They exchanged a quick glance but said nothing. Though their expressions clearly showed they disliked being ordered around, they moved without protest and placed their hands firmly on Ash's head and shoulders, locking his body in place.

Ash did not resist.

His eyes, half-covered behind the mask, were calm and unwavering. There was no fear, no begging, no sign of surrender.

As Ariel gripped the mask again and pulled with all his strength, a disturbing sound echoed across the room.

It was a wet, slow tearing sound, the kind that made even the dragons pause. Ash's skin began to peel along with the mask, sticking to it as if fused by something deeper than simple magic.

Blood started to run down his face. At first, it was a thin line, then more, dripping down his chin and onto his clothes.

But he did not scream.

Even though the pain was sharp and violent, Ash stayed still. His jaw clenched tight, breath shallow, but no sound escaped his lips.

The agony was immense, the kind that could break a person's spirit, but Ash focused all his will into his mind and body. He endured it, not because he could not feel it, but because he refused to show weakness.

The mask had done its job. It did more than just hide his face.

"You wanna hear my scream?"

Even for him, the pain of having his skin torn off was unbearable. His nerves screamed, his body trembled slightly, but he didn't activate Omni Thought.

He didn't want detachment. He wanted to feel this. He needed the pain.

He needed to stay grounded in the raw emotion that surged through him, unfiltered and real.

The dragons stared at him, a mix of confusion and curiosity in their eyes. But before any of them could speak, Ash's voice rose again, harsher this time.

"Like hell I will scream. Go fuck yourself."

The silence that followed was heavy, almost thick enough to choke on.

"You really are fearless," Ariel muttered, his voice carrying a strange mix of irritation and admiration.

The mask was now in his hands, but instead of a normal human face, what lay beneath was horrifying—torn skin, exposed muscle and bone, threads of tendon still twitching faintly.

Lunatic..

Blood ran down Ash's neck, staining his clothes, yet the skin showed no sign of healing.

Because Ash wasn't letting it heal.

"You might not know this," Kristos said, his voice calm but firm, "but Alarion can detect lies. So if you lie, things will only get worse. Just answer what you're asked, and maybe we will let you die peacefully."

But Ash wasn't paying attention.

But Ash didn't respond to him. His body was here, bloody and broken, but his mind had already started to wander.

It drifted through the past, pulling him back to all the moments that brought him here.

I transmigrated, but almost died because of an half awakening.

I joined the academy, but was mocked and abandoned as worthless.

I created a new identity, but was branded a criminal.

I tried to protect someone again, and almost ended up losing Nancy once more.

I came to a new place, but ended up becoming someone's food.

And now, here I am, getting tortured again.

His face was in ruins. Only muscle and bone remained, blood dripping steadily, soaking into his black clothes. The pain was still there, but his eyes didn't blink. His vision stayed fixed above him.

He stared at the ceiling.

More precisely, towards the sky that wasn't even visible from where he was.

Was I wrong to believe that fate was not affecting me? Or maybe… fate was always at work, from the very beginning. And I was just too late to notice.

***