Noughtfire took a sip of tea. He closed his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his face.

  For the old Sage, it was never in doubt.

  ***

  Out in the northern ice floes, the Titan Rhinos were gathered around a roaring fire. Their fishing poles were left out to one side. A heaving net was off to the other, stuffed with fish.

  The herd got a bit restless when Zane went down. But there was a great deal of tail swishing and bellowing when he broke his limit.

  “That’s it!” roared Nog.

  Mook was so pleased he gave a little hop—but Mook sometimes forgot he was a Rhino. The ice floe broke beneath him, and he splashed into the lake.

  ***

  Out in the Steelheart Conclave, great cheers erupted from the beer halls. Tankards and belts went flying.

  “Zane! Zane! Zane!”

  ***

  “You know what you must do,” said the Azure Flame Patriarch. “Don’t you?”

  He looked down at Haxorax. The Prince’s jaw was clenched tight.

  “You were hoping he'd slowed down, weren’t you?” said the Patriarch. His golden eyes gleamed. “Hoping Fate would stop him for you!”

  The Patriarch knew his son. Haxorax was thinking no such thing. But he stiffened at the words.

  “There is no stopping that man,” Haxorax said heavily. “He can’t be broken. Not by man nor Monster.”

  “Haxxy—don’t say that!” Dya clutched at him, desperate, but he shrugged her off.

  His pupils were trembling—a little bloodshot. “The one who must do that… is me.”

  It was exactly what the Patriarch was waiting to hear.

  Haxorax let out a tight breath. “I’ll take the Rites.”

  The Patriarch bared his teeth.

  His attendants flinched. The color drained from their faces. “My Prince…” whispered one.

  The Rites of the Primordial Ancients had been attempted just four times in True Dragon history—always by a first Prince of Dragons. It could only be done at the peak of True God.

  If successful, it would create a galaxy-grade Inner World—an Inner World only the Dragon ancestors knew.

  Merely to attempt it, you’d need talent that only showed up a handful of times in a Chaos Cycle. And the rites themselves would take nearly a century to complete.

  The fatality rate, even for super-geniuses, was 50%.

  But the dragons who’d succeeded were the unquestioned dominant forces of their era. They’d carved their names in legend.

  “You’ll do it after the first Wave. Defend your land. Do your kind proud, boy,” commanded the Patriarch. “After that… we'll see if you have greatness in you.”

  Haxorax closed his eyes.

  Haxorax did have greatness within. Lyxandor knew this—though he would never say it to his son’s face.

  The fatality rate was 50%, but Haxorax would not fall to it. The Rites culled the weak.

  Haxorax was no weakling.

  Lyxandor had made sure of that.

  He let out a savage grin. It had taken a thousand years. But he’d pared nearly all the softness out, sculpted the boy, with painstaking effort, into the perfect killing machine.

  Soon he would be complete.

  He had a better attack that she did.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  ***

  All across Earth the next morning, the dojos were packed. It was mostly young fighters, so pumped up by Zane’s performance they were all in there training.

  It was that way across the galaxy too.

  ***

  Later that day…

  “As promised, disciple.”

  Noughtfire held out the flower. It was preserved behind a dome of crystal glass—a dome that sealed off most of its powers. But even still, Zane could feel the weight of it; it felt like an ocean of aura was trapped behind the glass.

  Zane pocketed it and nodded his thanks. “So this is it.”

  “It is,” said Noughtfire, hands clasped behind his back. “After this, you'll break through. Then you’ll be off to war… you'll do just fine, I expect.”

  Though it could be a while before they started instruction again.

  He'd miss the routine—in here and in Astra. He’d walked up and down the winding steps on this misty mountain quite a few times this past decade. It’d gotten pretty familiar.

  He felt a little melancholy about the whole thing; it felt like a chapter in his life was coming to a close.

  He’d miss the old guy too.

  “I’ll be around, here and there,” said Noughtfire. “We’ll fight our own battles. But I expect I'll drop by now and then.”

  “See you later, then.”

  “As you say,” said Noughtfire, mildly amused. “See you later.”

  ***

  He took a long nap when he got back home—he crashed pretty fast. Reina helped heal him up. Her magic had gotten a good deal stronger ever since she had received the World Tree’s blessing.

  “I’ll finish my Concept before the start of the war. Then I'll have my Great Circle too,” said Reina, hands on his chest. She was still working on his soul—Limit Break had done a number on him.

  It felt like the nicest massage he’d ever had, like his body floating in pure softness, warmth, and unwinding.

  “I’ll be there with you,” she said, looking all intent.

  “I know,” he said, a bit amused.

  She seemed quite intent on reassuring him of it. He figured it could be for herself.

  “It’s just…” she hesitated.“Zane—it’s hard for me to just watch you getting hurt out there and just… sit there.”

  Her hands balled up. He could see her breathing a little faster.

  Zane had overheard her guards earlier, shaking their heads in wonder—when he went down hard and the Archangel was advancing on him, they were worried they’d have to stop her from getting in the ring.

  The thing was—he knew if it wasn’t a simulation, if it was really life or death—she would’ve done it.

  “What?” said Reina, blinking at the expression on his face.

  “…I’m a very lucky man.”

  Her chest puffed up a little at that, and she smiled. “Well. It’s good that you know.”

  ***

  Evan and Avery spent the afternoon running all over the Faction. It was the first time they’d been home in ages.

  Avery came back in a funk. Her hoodie was splattered all over with gunk.

  “I don't want to talk about it,” she declared. Then she told them all about it.

  First, they ran all over their old stomping grounds in the Luminous Faction and went island-hopping for a bit.

  Then Avery hatched a scheme.

  She tried luring Chomper into a trap to be shot into space. She’d set up a giant trebuchet and everything. But Chomper was a little too dumb to fall for her trap. He just sat there panting happily, about five feet away from the trebuchet.

  Eventually, Avery just tried shoving him in. She ended up launching herself into space. She had landed in the swamp.

  Evan felt it was all just a big misunderstanding.

  “He likes you!” cried Evan. “He just wants to be friends… I think you just have to be patient with him, y’know?”

  “One cannot live while the other survives,” Avery declared. “I will vanquish this fell beast.”

  Then Chomper licked her, and she squealed and fell over.

  ***

  After that, Avery changed into another hoodie, and they had a picnic, just like old times.

  Evan started telling them about all their latest adventures.

  They’d both hit Level 499 too—just a few months after Zane. Their Concepts were all there too. Now they were just about ready to break through.

  They’d all try for Minor God after the Summit went down.

  Reina was knee-deep into organizing the thing. There they’d plan out the defense of Earth. In just a few months’ time, it would begin.

  Reina said there were quite a few Ascendants nearly ready to break through too—D’Angelo Hall, Emeka Eze, Jason Walker, and Vanessa Volkova were all in a similar spot.

  They were all determined to fight—even Jason, according to D’Angelo Hall. Jason wasn’t much interested in defending anyone else. But he was top-30 in the Rising Dragon rankings now, and he was keen to slaughter.

  Reina looked at Zane, but he wasn’t bothered. His brother’s name had little effect on him anymore. Jason was just another man he’d had crushed.

  After that was all over, there’d be about a two-year time period before the first Monster wave was expected to hit Earth.

  He’d be ready.

  ***

  The Tar Chambers

  The creature in the vat gurgled.

  Its compound eyes were fixed on the vision. On Zane staggering up in the middle of the ruined temple, bleeding badly, triumphant.

  A crimson fissure of an eye blazed above.

  That is the man you are Fated to break.

  Even through that scrying-glass impression, the creature could sense the vitality brimming in Zane’s body.

  There was a high-pitched whine, like glass shredding on glass, as its eagerness, its hunger, seared the chamber. The acid began to boil.

  Tubes pumped in blood, feeding it constantly. The blood of Godbeasts. Ancient Rocs. Dragon-turtles.

  Malzareth had even had Titan Rhino hunted to feed the beast.

  It was no Godbeast. It would be the Monster that hunted Godbeasts, an affront to all creation.

  Malzareth hissed in pleasure.

  It tore open space and clawed across dimensions. A Bone Dragon emerged from the jagged void—a True God End-bringer; tattered shadows made its wings, and void flames burned in its eyes. An apocalyptic threat anywhere else.

  But in Malzareth’s grasp it squirmed in agony and let out guttural cries; it was forced over the vat.

  A great jagged shape reared out and crushed it in a single blow. They dragged the thrashing Monster in.

  Silence.

  Those strange eyes gleamed through the liquid.

  The thing coming to hideous life in that vat was nothing a man of flesh and blood could compete with.

  It grew at speeds nearly beyond comprehension.

  By the time it was born…

  It will not be a fight, but a slaughter!