While all the spirit world focusing on the evolved ancient dragon, very few catches the sigh of Kent.
Some were utterly terrified by his appearance. But many females felt their hearts raced. The sight of his female really many women lost control over their emotions.
On the Meru Mountain…
Kent groaned softly as he sat up, his body aching but pulsating with new energy. The tribulations had not spared him either, and though he had stood as a guardian to the baby dragon, the forces of the universe had left their mark on him.
His hands trembled as he lifted them to his face. His skin had turned dark and scaly, tough as armor. His nails were elongated, sharper, and more claw-like. His face felt different—more elongated, and when he blinked, he realized his irises were golden, slit like a dragon’s.
“What… happened to me?” Kent whispered, his voice deeper than before. He looked down at his reflection in a pool of water that had gathered after the tribulation. His pupils glimmered with a predatory gleam, and his senses felt sharper than ever. He could hear the faint rustling of leaves miles away, smell the distinct scent of blooming flowers amidst the scorched Mount Meru.
Instincts he didn’t recognize surged through him. He clenched his fists, feeling an immense strength coursing through his veins. The bond with Sparky, now a fully evolved true dragon, was deeper than ever. He could feel Sparky’s presence in his mind like a second heartbeat.
“This… this is part of the tribulation,” Kent realized. “The connection with Sparky has changed me.”
Eternal Music Hall eagerly rushed forward to see its master, where his companions eagerly awaited him.
As he stepped on the musical hall, everyone moved fast to reach him. But all their emotions and thoughts changed at the sigh of Kent’s face.
Jean was the first to react.
“Uh… Kent?” Jean stammered, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a laugh. “What happened to your face?”
Gunji Zing burst out laughing. “He looks like… like Sparky’s long-lost brother!”
Fatty Ben leaned forward, his eyes wide. “Forget a dragon tamer, Master, you look like the dragon now!”
“Enough!” Kent growled, his deepened voice startling them for a moment before they all erupted into laughter.
The women residing in the music hall, who had kept their distance before, were now openly staring at him. Their gazes carried a mixture of curiosity and something else—something that made Kent deeply uncomfortable. A tall, elegant woman stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with an unmistakable hunger.
“You’ve truly become something remarkable,” she said, her voice sultry. “I’ve never seen a man like you before.” Others nodded in agreement, their glances lingering.
Kent sighed, muttering under his breath, “Of all the things to deal with…”
Without a word, he pulled out a dark mask from his storage ring and covered his face. “There,” he said flatly. “Now stop staring at me.”
His companions burst out laughing again. Even Sparky, towering over them in its new majestic form, let out a rumbling chuckle-like sound.
Before the teasing could escalate, the War God and Storm God appeared, flanked by a few other gods. They approached Kent, their faces a mixture of awe and approval.
“Congratulations, Kent,” the War God said, his voice booming. “You are now the owner of a true dragon of ancient origin. No one in the Spirit World can claim such an honor.”
The Storm God added, “This feat will echo through the ages. You’ve proven yourself not only a warrior but a protector. We are fortunate to witness it.”
Kent nodded humbly at first but then his face turned serious. “I thought you two would come to aid me against the poison god.” Kent asked with a straight look.
The gods exchanged glances, noting the changes in Kent. “If we entered, the fight might have turned big with other gods joining in support of space god. We also has rule that we can’t interfere in the affairs of another god. Sadly, I was the one who set that rule.”
Kent nodded seriously, completely dissatisfied by the explanation.
The War God immediately changed the topic. “You’ve changed too, Kent. The tribulation has marked you in ways that go beyond the physical.”
“Perhaps,” Kent said, his golden eyes glinting beneath the mask.
–
Demon-Lord Castle…
Far away, on a desolate, shadowy plain, Phillip stood before the Forbidden Goddess of Death and Desire. Her presence was intoxicating, her form both beautiful and terrifying. Shadows seemed to ripple off her body like living creatures, and her crimson eyes bore into Phillip’s soul.
“You’ve done well to endure,” she said, her voice a haunting melody. “The abyssal essence is not for the faint-hearted.”
Phillip knelt before her, holding a massive black chalice filled with the thick, viscous liquid of the abyssal essence. It shimmered with an eerie light, pulsating like a living heart.
“I will endure,” Phillip growled, his voice already deepened by the abyssal energy coursing through his veins. “I will become the strongest demon emperor this universe has ever known.”
The goddess smiled, her ruby lips curling into a predatory grin. “Then drink, Phillip Quinn. Drink and become reborn.”
Without hesitation, Phillip raised the chalice to his lips and drank deeply. The abyssal essence burned like molten lava as it flowed through his body. He screamed, his muscles convulsing, his veins darkening as they expanded. His once human form began to twist and grow.
Black horns erupted from his head, curling backward like a crown. His skin turned ashen gray, with crimson veins glowing beneath the surface. His arms elongated, ending in razor-sharp claws, and his chest bore intricate markings of demonic origin, glowing with an ominous red light.
His body swelled in size, becoming a towering figure, rivaling the mountains themselves. His back sprouted ten massive arms, each holding a different weapon. His face transformed into a visage of terror—three glowing eyes burned with hatred, and his mouth was filled with jagged, razor-sharp teeth.
The transformation was complete. Phillip stood as a Rakshasa, a true demon of legend. His aura radiated death and destruction, suffocating everything around him.
The goddess of death and desire stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “You are magnificent, Phillip,” she purred. “The perfect vessel for my will.”
Phillip grinned wickedly, his voice a deep, guttural growl. “The Spirit World will tremble before me. Kent, the gods, and everyone else—none will escape my wrath.”
He raised his arms, and the sky above turned black. A sinister laughter echoed across the plains as the earth cracked beneath his feet.
The goddess leaned closer, her voice a whisper. “The 9 Realms will burn first, and you, Phillip, will lead the inferno.”