Chapter 189 - 184: The Inheritance
The staircase continued downward.
John stood at its entrance, staring into the golden light below.
Behind him, the cavern was still shaking.
The ancient dragon and the creature beneath the mountain were fighting somewhere beyond the darkness. Every collision sent another vibration through the stone.
But the staircase itself remained completely stable.
That bothered John.
Everything around them was falling apart.
Yet this path had appeared only moments ago.
Almost as if it had been waiting for him.
Lythriel looked down the stairs.
"So..."
She took a slow breath.
"That’s where we’re supposed to go."
John nodded.
"Apparently."
Darius raised his lantern and examined the first few steps.
"There aren’t any visible traps."
John glanced at him.
"That’s encouraging."
"Don’t get too excited."
Darius pointed farther down.
"We can’t see the bottom."
John smiled.
"Of course."
The injured explorer looked toward the staircase.
"You shouldn’t go."
John turned.
"Why?"
"We went down there."
"What happened?"
The man’s face tightened.
"We didn’t get far."
"Something stopped us."
"Something?"
"An invisible barrier."
John frowned.
"Magic?"
"I don’t know."
"None of us could cross it."
The man looked at the golden light.
"Then the guardian appeared and told us to leave."
John glanced back toward the cavern.
"So the dragon has been protecting this place."
"Yes."
John looked down again.
"And now it’s allowing me to enter."
Nobody answered.
That was answer enough.
---
"You’re not going alone."
Lythriel stepped beside him.
John looked at her.
"I know."
"I mean it."
"I know."
She narrowed her eyes.
"You keep saying that."
"Because I agree."
That seemed to satisfy her.
Sylvara adjusted her cloak.
"I’m coming too."
Aerion nodded.
"We all came here together."
Darius sighed.
"I suppose there’s no point trying to convince any of you otherwise."
John looked toward Gareth.
The commander had been helping organize the injured explorers.
"You stay here."
Gareth looked at him.
"You’re giving me orders now?"
John smiled.
"No."
"I’m asking."
Gareth studied him for a moment.
Then nodded.
"Fine."
"But if the cavern becomes unstable, we’re leaving."
John nodded.
"Understood."
---
They began descending.
The farther they went, the quieter the battle above became.
The roar of the ancient dragon gradually disappeared.
The tremors became weaker.
Then there was nothing.
No sound.
No wind.
No movement.
Just their footsteps.
John noticed something strange after several minutes.
His footsteps weren’t echoing.
The staircase seemed to absorb sound.
He stopped.
Lythriel nearly walked into him.
"What?"
"Listen."
Everyone stopped.
Silence.
"There’s no echo."
Darius immediately noticed.
"You’re right."
John looked at the walls.
"They aren’t reflecting sound."
"Perhaps they’re enchanted."
"Maybe."
They continued.
A few minutes later, the staircase ended.
John stepped onto a flat stone floor.
A massive underground chamber stretched before them.
It was unlike anything they’d seen before.
There were no statues.
No ruins.
No broken structures.
Everything was perfectly preserved.
The floor was polished black stone.
Thin golden lines ran across it in a complicated pattern.
At the far end stood a single structure.
A circular altar.
And behind it...
A wall covered in writing.
John slowly approached.
Darius raised his lantern.
The golden lines beneath their feet immediately brightened.
John stopped.
The chamber reacted to him.
Again.
Lythriel looked around.
"At this point, I’m starting to think this place really likes you."
John gave her a tired look.
"Not sure I like it back."
---
Darius reached the wall.
"This language is older."
"Older than the inscriptions above?"
"Much older."
He ran his eyes across the first line.
"I can read some of it."
"Some?"
"The language changed over time."
He began translating carefully.
"This is not a record."
John looked at him.
"What is it?"
Darius continued reading.
"A testimony."
John stepped closer.
"Whose?"
Darius stared at the writing.
"The first guardian."
John looked toward the altar.
"Arkan?"
Darius nodded.
---
The writing described a time when dragons still openly lived among the mortal races.
Not as gods.
Not as rulers.
But as guardians.
Some dragons protected forests.
Some guarded mountains.
Others watched over seas and ancient magical sites.
There had been agreements between dragons and mortals.
Oaths.
Boundaries.
Mutual protection.
John listened quietly.
It was strangely different from the legends he had heard.
In most stories, dragons were either monsters or gods.
Here, they were simply another ancient race.
Powerful, certainly.
But not invincible.
Darius continued.
"Arkan was one of the dragonkin who served the First Dragon."
John looked at him.
"Dragonkin?"
"Yes."
"Not a dragon?"
"No."
Darius pointed toward a section of the writing.
"According to this, Arkan was born from the union of dragon blood and mortal blood."
John went silent.
Lythriel looked at him.
"That sounds familiar."
John didn’t respond.
The inscription continued.
Arkan eventually became a guardian of the ancient seal.
He wasn’t the strongest.
He wasn’t the oldest.
But he was chosen because he understood both sides.
Dragons.
And mortals.
Then came the creature beneath the mountain.
The writing became fragmented at that point.
Whatever had been sealed was apparently older than the settlement itself.
The ancient civilization had discovered it beneath the mountain.
They couldn’t destroy it.
They couldn’t control it.
So they created a seal.
Arkan remained behind.
The dragons eventually disappeared from the mortal world.
Their descendants scattered.
And the temple waited.
Darius stopped reading.
John stared at the wall.
"So Arkan wasn’t the last dragon."
"No."
"He was the last guardian."
"Yes."
John looked toward the ceiling.
"Then why did the dragon upstairs say it was the last?"
Darius frowned.
"Perhaps it meant the last of its generation."
John thought about that.
That made more sense.
The ancient dragon had been alive for an impossibly long time.
But it didn’t necessarily mean it was literally the last dragon in existence.
---
John approached the altar.
There was a small depression in its center.
The metal key in his hand began glowing.
Lythriel immediately noticed.
"Looks like it wants that."
John placed the key inside.
Nothing happened.
He waited.
Still nothing.
Darius looked confused.
"Perhaps there’s another requirement."
John stared at the altar.
Then remembered the message.
*The inheritance is not power.*
*Choice.*
He slowly placed his hand over the key.
"What am I supposed to choose?"
Nothing happened.
He waited.
Then—
A voice answered.
Not the dragon.
Not the creature.
Something much quieter.
**"What do you seek?"**
John froze.
Lythriel looked at him.
"Did you hear that?"
John nodded.
The others seemed to have heard it too.
The voice repeated itself.
**"What do you seek?"**
John thought.
Power?
He already had more than he understood.
Knowledge?
That was closer.
But even knowledge wasn’t enough.
He wanted answers.
About his origins.
About the strange powers inside him.
About the False Heart.
About the Dragon King legacy.
About the worlds he had encountered.
But there was something else.
Something simpler.
He wanted to understand himself.
John looked at the altar.
"I want to understand."
The chamber remained silent.
He continued.
"I want to know where I came from."
"I want to know what this blood means."
"But..."
He paused.
"I don’t want power just because someone says I deserve it."
Lythriel stared at him.
John continued.
"If there’s something here meant for me..."
"I’ll decide what to do with it."
The golden lines across the floor suddenly brightened.
Darius stepped back.
The altar opened.
But there was no weapon.
No overwhelming power.
No ancient armor.
Instead...
A small stone sphere rose from beneath it.
It was about the size of John’s palm.
Inside the transparent stone was a tiny golden flame.
John reached toward it.
The moment his fingers touched the sphere—
The world went silent.
---
John stood in a field.
He immediately knew it wasn’t real.
The sky was different.
Two moons hung above the horizon.
A gigantic mountain stood in the distance.
And dragons flew through the sky.
Hundreds of them.
Some were enormous.
Others were no larger than horses.
Below them were cities.
Human cities.
Dragonkin villages.
Elven settlements.
Different races living together.
John stared.
"So this is..."
"The old world."
A voice spoke behind him.
John turned.
A man stood there.
Young.
Dark-haired.
Wearing simple clothing.
John recognized him immediately.
Arkan.
The ancestor from the inscriptions.
Arkan smiled.
"You look confused."
John stared.
"You’re not real."
"No."
"A memory?"
"Something close."
John looked around.
"Why am I seeing this?"
"Because you came looking for answers."
John folded his arms.
"And you’re going to give them to me?"
Arkan laughed.
"No."
John blinked.
"No?"
"I can show you what happened."
"But the answers..."
Arkan pointed toward John.
"They belong to you."
John frowned.
"That’s frustrating."
"I know."
Arkan smiled.
"You sound like me."
John couldn’t help laughing.
For the first time since entering the ruins, the tension eased.
Then Arkan’s expression became serious.
"You carry a strange amount of power."
John’s smile faded.
"You know about it?"
"I know enough."
"The Dragon King?"
Arkan’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"You’ve heard that name."
"Yes."
"Then you’ve already begun walking down a road I hoped would never open again."
John’s expression hardened.
"What does that mean?"
Arkan looked toward the sky.
"The Dragon King wasn’t simply a title."
John waited.
"It was a responsibility."
"And someone failed."
Arkan nodded.
"More than once."
John’s eyes narrowed.
"Who?"
Arkan looked back at him.
"That is not something I can tell you yet."
John sighed.
"Of course."
Arkan smiled.
"But I can tell you one thing."
He stepped closer.
"The power you’re carrying isn’t the legacy itself."
John froze.
"What?"
"The legacy is sleeping."
"Then what is this power?"
Arkan’s expression became strange.
"Something else."
John’s heart began beating faster.
"Something else?"
Arkan nodded.
"And that’s why you must be careful."
The world suddenly began fading.
John reached forward.
"Wait!"
Arkan’s final words echoed across the field.
**"When you finally meet the true heir of the Dragon King..."**
The image disappeared.
**"...don’t kneel."**
---
John opened his eyes.
He was back inside the underground chamber.
Lythriel was holding his shoulder.
"John!"
He blinked.
"I’m here."
"You just collapsed."
John looked down.
The stone sphere was gone.
In its place was a small mark on his palm.
A golden circle.
Three lines crossing through it.
Darius approached.
"What happened?"
John looked at him.
"I saw Arkan."
Everyone became silent.
"What did he tell you?"
John looked at the mark.
He thought about telling them everything.
But something stopped him.
Not fear.
Instinct.
He wasn’t ready to explain the Dragon King.
Not yet.
"He said the inheritance isn’t power."
Darius frowned.
"Then what is it?"
John looked toward the altar.
"A responsibility."
That much was true.
Suddenly, a violent roar echoed from far above.
The cavern shook.
The ancient dragon.
John looked toward the staircase.
"We need to go back."
Lythriel nodded.
They began moving.
But John stopped for one final moment.
He looked at the mark on his palm.
The golden lines slowly faded.
The inheritance hadn’t made him stronger.
It hadn’t given him a new transformation.
It hadn’t suddenly raised his level.
Instead...
It had given him something much more valuable.
A direction.
And for the first time, John understood that the secrets surrounding his existence weren’t going to be solved by simply becoming stronger.
There were things he would have to learn.
Choices he would have to make.
And eventually...
Someone he would have to meet.
The true heir of the Dragon King.
John closed his hand.
"Let’s go."
The group disappeared up the staircase.
Far beneath them, something opened its eyes.
But this time...
It wasn’t angry.
It was waiting.