The three Primordial Dragons stood in the center of the massive lobby, their towering forms twice as large as normal dragons.
Their presence alone exuded overwhelming power, unlike anything most had ever witnessed.
Their names hovered above them, marking their status as the strongest of their kind.
[Zyphir, Primordial Storm Dragon]
[Orvion, Primordial Arcane Dragon]
[Xeltharion, Primordial Chaos Dragon]
Each of them had reached level 2,000, the absolute limit in Universal Descent.
While skills and abilities could still enhance one’s strength, no living being could surpass this level.
Even Alphox, in his prime as a Primordial Dragon, had never reached such heights.
But as he himself had said, it seemed like the dragon race had evolved over time.
Each dragon’s form reflected the terrifying power they commanded.
Zyphir was a storm given form, his dark blue and silver scales crackling with arcs of lightning.
With every step, a gust of wind followed, and the faint rumbling of an approaching storm echoed around him.
His very presence carried the fury of hurricanes, thunderstorms, and typhoons, a force of nature in its purest form.
Orvion radiated raw, overwhelming magic.
His violet and obsidian scales shimmered with shifting runes, his eyes glowing with infinite knowledge.
He was the master of all magic, wielding sorcery so complex it surpassed mortal understanding.
He could stand among the Grand Mages, but as a proud dragon, he was denied entry into their order.
He didn’t need their recognition after all.
Finally, Xeltharion was the embodiment of anarchy and chaos.
His shifting black and crimson body seemed to ripple, warping the space around him.
His wings twisted unnaturally, as if reality itself bent to his will.
He had no defined form, his body constantly shifted, dissolving and reforming in ways that defied logic.
A being capable of warping reality and twisting the very laws of the universe at will.
Despite their terrifying presence, all three dragons sat calmly, their glowing eyes locked onto the survivors emerging from each hallway.
“I think that’s everyone,” Zyphir groaned, his gaze sweeping over the crowd like they were nothing more than insignificant insects, “Hopefully, at least two or three of them are actually worth our time.”
“Agreed,” Orvion muttered, analyzing each individual with cold precision, “We usually only accept one or two each year, but there’s no actual limit. If someone is strong enough, they can enter.”
These statements weren’t aimed at each other, but at the participants themselves, meant to crush any remaining hopes of the weaker participants.
Yet no one seemed to bat an eye.
After all, the egotistical and prideful nature of Primordial Dragons was already known and documented.
‘Is that true?’ Alex asked through his connection with Alphox.
“Yeah,” Alphox mumbled, his voice calm, “There have been times when even ten people made it through the final trial. But in the end, we would eliminate those unworthy, leaving only one or two. Maybe three if it was an exceptionally strong year.”
‘Got it.’
Alex shifted his focus to the other survivors.
Each of them had been the strongest in their individual rooms.
Then, they had fought their way to be among the top 100 in their respective hallways, just to stand here now.
“Kid,” Alphox suddenly spoke again. “Remember how I told you only 1,000 participants can enter?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, in the entire history of this trial, never once have 1,000 participants actually made it this far.”
“…What do you mean?”
“The limit is 1,000, but the hallways? They’re free-for-all killing grounds. People wipe each other out long before reaching this stage.” Alphox sighed. “Even at its highest, the total number of survivors has never even been close to 1,000.”
Xeltharion let out a low chuckle.
“We’ll now announce the survivor count from each hallway,” he said. “This year, the numbers are higher than usual… good. It will make things more interesting.”
Then, ten glowing panels appeared in the center of the room, displaying the results.
[Participants Alive]
[Hallway #1: 87]
[Hallway #2: 39]
[Hallway #3: 98]
[Hallway #4: 22]
[Hallway #5: 43]
[Hallway #6: 3]
A sudden shift in the atmosphere.
Everyone turned to look at the survivors of Hallway #6.
Only three people stood there, their armor and clothing drenched in blood.
Alex’s instincts screamed at him.
These three were too strong.
But he kept reading.
[Hallway #7: 100]
A full 100 survivors, unusual.
[Hallway #8: 57]
[Hallway #9: 74]
And finally, the last hallway.
Silence fell over the room.
Everyone stared at the panel.
[Hallway #10: 1]
One.
Just one person survived.
All eyes turned toward him.
The lone survivor from Hallway #10.
He wore a full suit of black armor, his face completely hidden.
From his back stretched four large wings, two pure white, the other two pitch black.
“A Fallen Angel, huh,” Orvion chuckled, intrigued. “And look at all these participants, Zyphir.”
The Storm Dragon nodded, his golden eyes narrowing.
“This year will probably be the most interesting in centuries.”
They had only seen the pre-selection phase, yet they could already sense it.
This year’s participants would shake the trial itself.
And of course, this trial was also a mean to entertain the dragon people outside of the temple, as this was broadcasted to them. Stay updated with My Virtual Library Empire
[Fallen Angel (SSS-Rank)]
The only other race to be classified as SSS-Rank.
A race on par with Dragons.
Fallen Angels were a mix of angels and demons, beings that had abandoned both heaven and hell to forge their own path.
Hated by all sides.
Feared by all factions.
It was rare to see one.
In fact—
“This is the first Fallen Angel to ever enter the Dragon Bloodline Trial,” Orvion laughed.
They were so rare that none of them even attempted the bloodline dragon trial.
They didn’t NEED to, since they were just as strong as dragons.
And their numbers were so few that risking their lives wasn’t worth it.
Yet here one was.
“This year is gonna be something else,” Alphox chuckled. “A God’s Chosen, a Fallen Angel, a ruthless trio, and dozens of other powerful warriors.”
Alex silently agreed.
He could feel it.
Some of these participants… were monsters in their own right.
“Well then,” Xeltharion rumbled, standing tall, “Let’s begin the [Exam] for the [Dragon Bloodline Trial].”
For once, he sounded eager.
Orvion smirked, “First time I’ve seen you this interested. Usually, you only watch the final winner, yet now you’re personally overseeing the Exam?”
“Shut up.”
Even the Primordial Dragons sensed it, this would be the strongest batch of participants in history.
Alex narrowed his eyes.
‘Is it because Universal Descent is merging with the real world? Because the gods are about to descend?’
He shook his head.
‘Doesn’t matter.’
A massive announcement rang through the air.
[Let’s begin.]
Everyone tensed up.
‘What’s the Exam exactly?’ Alex asked.
“It’s not a combat test,” Alphox replied. “The dragons will ask three questions. Then, they’ll analyze you before deciding if you’re worthy.”
“You need at least two out of three votes to pass.”
‘So they’re still doing this dumb thing even though so few people survived, huh.’
“Yep. It’s tradition. And they love watching other races squirm.”
Alex sighed.
[Participants Currently Alive: 524.]
Fwish! Boom!
Numbers appeared above each person.
“Come forward when your number appears on the screen,” the dragons commanded.
The first number appeared.
[1]
Alex glanced at his own.
[You are number 523.]
“Damn, second to last, huh.”
Alphox groaned. “It’s not a coincidence. They saved the most interesting ones for last.”
Alex just smiled.
He was ready for whatever came next.