Chapter 162: The Frost Wyrm
The Western Border, Atop a Smoldering Ruin.
Two Great Dragons lay sprawled across a miniature mountain of gold crowns, their claws idly sifting through the spoils of war.
The Tier 5 Green Dragon snatched up a handful of emeralds, squinting at them as they caught the afternoon sun. "The harvest this season is unprecedented."
He turned his crested head toward the Tier 4 White Dragon beside him. "The last time I crossed the salt to this continent, the humans were destitute. A major trade hub was lucky to yield a few thousand gold pieces."
The White Dragon nodded, her scales shimmering with a cold, predatory excitement. "The elders spoke of the same thing. The mainland was a graveyard of paupers. But look at this!" She gestured with a jagged claw toward the overflowing crates of gold and gemstones. "A single provincial town yielded a king's ransom!"
The Green Dragon tossed a handful of gems into his private pile. "Word is that the management has changed. Some 'Sovereign of Evernight' unified the continent under a single banner."
The White Dragon let out a dry, clicking snort. "Sovereign or not, it matters little. The gold is ours now. That is the only law that persists." She stretched her leathery wings, letting out a satisfied groan. "By the way... has anyone heard from that brat Ignius?"
The Green Dragon shook his head. "The boy always was a loner. He thinks his talent puts him above his kin. He likely went off to raid a capital on his own."
The White Dragon rolled her eyes. "Pah. He's a century old and acts like he invented the element of Fire. Arrogance is a poor substitute for age."
The Green Dragon stayed silent. He knew, as well as she did, that Ignius had earned his pride. To reach the peak of Tier 6 in a single century was a feat that shattered every record in the Dragon's Nest.
As the two continued to divide their hoard, a silhouette appeared at the far edge of the ruins.
The White Dragon noticed her first. "Hmm?" She lifted her head, her vertical pupils narrowing with suspicion. "Why is there still a meat-bag in my sight?"
The Green Dragon looked over. A human girl in a flowing black dress was walking toward them. Her step was light, her movements possessed of an eerie, weightless grace.
The White Dragon stood up, her shadow falling over the girl. "Hey, insect. Why haven't you fled yet? Do you wish to be the first appetizer of the evening?"
The girl stopped, tilting her head with a bored, inquisitive look. "Flee? For what purpose would I do that?"
Her voice was soft, yet it carried a resonance that made the dragons' scales prickle with a sudden, instinctual discomfort. The Green Dragon sensed the atmospheric shift, his brow furrowing. "This one... is not an ordinary ant."
The White Dragon let out an impatient lash of her tail. "I don't care if she's a saint or a beggar. She's clutter." She unhinged her jaw, preparing to let out a puff of flame to incinerate the intruder.
The next micro-second, the girl vanished.
The White Dragon froze. "Where did it go?!"
"Up here," a voice drifted from above.
The dragon snapped her head up, searching the sky, only to realize the girl was standing directly atop her cranium, looking down at her with a clinical indifference.
"You have raided the towns of the Empire," Skele-Lust stated, her tone a flat, unmoving calm. "By my Master's decree, I am required to conduct an inquiry."
The Green Dragon reacted instantly. "LOOK OUT!" He unhinged his jaw, and a searing torrent of fire erupted.
Lust didn't even shift her weight. She simply raised a dainty hand and gave a casual wave.
"[EL JIWAL]."
A bolt of violent purple lightning tore from the clear sky, striking the center of the Dragon's Breath and shattering the inferno into harmless sparks.
BOOM—!
The lightning didn't stop there, slamming into the Green Dragon's head. The massive beast was driven into the dirt, his scales charred and smoking.
The White Dragon shrieked in terror. She thrashed wildly, desperate to buck Lust from her head. Lust simply tapped her heel against the dragon's skull.
CRUNCH—!
A gargantuan force descended. The White Dragon's head was driven into the stone floor of the ruins, her entire frame quivering with the shock of the impact. Lust stepped down, smoothing the fabric of her skirt.
"Shall we proceed with the dialogue now?"
The Green Dragon struggled to his knees, his eyes wide with a primal, soul-deep terror. "W-what... what are you?!"
Lust tilted her head. "A 'what'? I find that form of address... unsatisfactory." She raised her hand, a cluster of black, necro-fire igniting in her palm. "Answer me: why did you target the Empire's settlements?"
The Green Dragon gritted his teeth. "We take what we desire! It is the right of the strong!"
Lust nodded. "I see. Simple. Efficient."
"Second question: Your origin? The Dragon's Nest?"
The White Dragon pulled her head from the crater, letting out a desperate roar. "Lower lifeform! You have no authority to question the High Race!"
Lust let out a long, weary sigh. "Non-cooperation, then. A shame."
The next instant, she blurred.
The Green Dragon's pupils shrank. He tried to lunge, but a hand had already clamped onto his neck.
CRACK—!
The sound of the vertebrae shattering echoed through the ruin. The Green Dragon's massive bulk hit the dirt, his life-sigil extinguished in a heartbeat.
The White Dragon began to shiver violently. "Y-you killed him... you just..."
Lust turned her head. "You're next. Provide the data, and I'll ensure your end is painless."
The White Dragon opened her maw to scream, but Lust was faster. A spear of dark ice condensed in the air and punched through the dragon's throat, pinning her to the stone. She gave a final, ragged convulsion and went still.
Lust stood amidst the two massive carcasses, frowning slightly. "How troublesome. Not a single useful answer."
She raised both hands, her Od beginning to churn. The dark light of [Undead Resurrection] shrouded the remains.
Moments later, the Green Dragon's corpse began to change. The flesh dissolved into grey mist; the scales fell away like autumn leaves. Finally, a gargantuan Frost Wyrm stood up from the wreckage, its ribs housing a swirling vortex of blue Soul Fire.
But the White Dragon...
The flesh melted away just the same. Yet, when the process finished, what remained was not a dragon. It was a standard humanoid Skeleton Mage.
Lust stared. "What...?"
She looked from the towering Frost Wyrm to the small, hooded skeleton. Both were raised by the same spell. Why had the Tier 5 dragon retained its form, while the Tier 4 dragon had been rewritten into the default template?
Lust realized immediately: The Master needs to see this.
The Valley Base, Inside the Log Cabin.
Kaito was resting in his coffin when Lust's signal pulsed through the link.
"Master. I have discovered a morphological anomaly in the conversion process."
Kaito snapped his eyes open. "Report."
Lust detailed the results of the dual resurrection. Kaito went silent for a long moment, his mind deconstructing the logic of his own Authority.
"Tier 5 becomes a Frost Wyrm... Tier 4 becomes a humanoid skeleton..."
Kaito began to cross-reference his previous data. He had raised thousands of beings: Humans, Orcs, Elves, Dwarves. Regardless of the race, they had all defaulted to the humanoid skeletal template. The only variance was the flavor of the undead—Vampires if Greed raised them, Skeletons if he did.
But now...
The Tier 5 dragon had retained its racial morphology. The Tier 4 had reset to the base model.
Kaito's Soul Fire flickered. "Od density..."
A theory took root. The [Authority of the Undead King] functioned like a system overwrite. If the subject's energy density was below a certain threshold, the system simply forced them into the most efficient, standardized template: the Humanoid Skeleton.
However, if the subject reached Tier 5, their Od was dense enough to resist the full overwrite. If that race also possessed a natural "undead variant" in the world's records—like a Frost Wyrm—the Authority would default to that instead of the humanoid model.
The Tier 6 Dwarven King and Orc Warchief he had raised during the Crusade had turned into humanoid skeletons because their races lacked a specific "Greater Undead" template in the system's library. They were rewritten because there was no "Skeleton Dwarf" archetype to slot into.
It seemed Tier 5 was the "Anchor Point"—the threshold where a soul was strong enough to keep its shape.
"Fascinating," Kaito whispered. "I'm not just raising an army. I'm discovering the source code of this world."
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