Last Egg: Reincarnated as a Dragon in a Game

Some time later:

POV Vesuvius:

More and more of the golden coins lit up in the darkness—devoid of light that was devoured by the dragon's armor—and glowed like stars in the sky.

Ding!

//

You have assimilated 1232 golden coins into your domain and soul!

+1 to DIV

//

Vesuvius felt the sensation deep within him; the intangible boundaries of his soul seemed to expand and contract, pushed to their very limits.

'85' He stared at his rapidly increasing level of divine energy, feeling in his bones that once it reached one hundred, it would trigger the ignition of his mark.

A melodic, feminine voice shattered the silence. "Ah, you're gaining power! The world will soon tremble before the might of dragons like they did in the past."

Two glowing points like rubies materialized in the darkness, transforming into a woman with the appearance of a young vampire. Her white hair flowed freely over a crimson dress.

"Welcome; what is the reason for your visit?" Vesuvius wasn't in the mood to entertain the chaotic and insane entity before him, as he was already busy with his ascension, but he kept the basic level of courtesy, as the being before him was a god and an important ally.

"I came to warn you. The chosen ones of the mortal gods are growing stronger with each passing day. "Shortly, they will be strong enough to turn into incarnations of their gods on the mortal plain."

The sound of golden coins clinking resonated in the cavernous space as Vesuvius shifted, instantly grasping the gravity of her words. 'If they become avatars, they'll spearhead their armies and come to eliminate the thorn in the feet—me'

"How long until this happens?"

"Maybe a half a year if we are lucky. Assassinating some might give us more time. But remember, the ongoing conflicts and chaos are weakening the existing barriers between realms. Their arrival is inevitable."

Vesuvius felt the weight of the information. 'Can I finish this in that time?'

"Why don't you descend to the mortal plane?"

"It's a matter of quality versus quantity. The mortal gods may outnumber us, but individually, we're far more powerful. The greater our power, the harder it is for us to descend. I'm the exception; I'm already weakened."

Vesuvius knew he needed more allies, and he knew where to find one: 'The dragon king of seas, Jörmungandratius; maybe they can be brought back. I have their gold, which contains the imprint of their soul. Now, I need only a vessel to house it, and I know where to find it. That should be enough to bring them back, at least temporarily for a single good battle.'

The reason why Vesuvius wanted to become a dragon king quickly was that their souls and consciousness as king-level beings were immortal, surviving and recovering even after their physical deaths.

'They will always rise again, even if it will take billions of years without any assistance.'

POV The Knight:

Winds howled in the narrow mountain canyon covered in snow and ice, pounding against the tall and smooth walls of black stone blocking the passage.

Winds howled in the narrow mountain canyon covered in snow and ice, pounding against the tall and smooth walls of black stone blocking the passage. The wall was high and thick, the only access to its gates leading through the narrow bridge of a dark chasm.

Atop the wall stood a knight clad in dark, runic armor. His long, crimson cape billowed behind him, snapping in the icy wind. The intricate runes etched into his armor glinted sporadically, catching the meager light that filtered through the cloud-covered sky.

Around him, other knights in similar attire and tall soldiers in dark armor held their positions, weapons at their ready.

'This is the might of dragonkind, dominion over nature.' He knew the mountains weren't there originally—the ground was hollowed with deep fissures, and tall walls of rocky cliffs were all risen by the might of the dragons.

'Even the weather is on our side.' The chilling coldness and howling winds were nothing but the product of the mighty dragon lord bringing to a halt and slowing down any enemy advance.

Johan's eyes narrowed as he looked out into the distance. Emerging from the mist was a massive army, a sea of white and light that contrasted sharply with the dark stone of the wall and the armor of its defenders. The approaching forces seemed like an avalanche of light, threatening to engulf everything in their path.

'So the angels fed their blood to mortals, spawning their holy army to tire us out before their own attack.' The knight drew his sword, and his eyes lit up in bright golden light.

"Prepare yourselves," Johan bellowed, his voice cutting through the wind and carrying over the assembled ranks of defenders. "They are coming. Remember, we are no longer fighting for some occupied land! Behind us is our home and our own land."

He sighed internally, seeing the parallel with the dark past of his previous life. 'This is too similar to the Napoleonic France; they advanced rapidly until they lost totally.'

Johan raised his arm, his second hand clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword, as he eyed the advancing army.

The distance between them closed rapidly, almost reaching the edge of the ravine before the wall. His soldiers stood tense, every eye on him, waiting for the signal.

'Not yet; surprising them the moment they enter the optimal range will be most effective.'

With a quick glance to his left and right, ensuring his troops were ready, Johan finally swung his arm downward in a decisive arc.

"Fire!" he shouted.

At his command, the mana-laser cannons mounted along the walls sprang to life. A chorus of mechanical whirring filled the air as the weapons adjusted their aim.

Then, with a pulsating roar, beams of concentrated energy shot forth from the cannons. The night was suddenly ablaze with brilliant light, turning darkness into an artificial day within the confines of the mountain passage.

'The efforts of our empire will destroy those mortals.'

The energy beams struck the front lines of the advancing army, creating explosions of light that temporarily blinded him and made him avert his eyes.

The screams of soldiers and the clang of disintegrating armor filled the air. The light from the beams reflected off Johan's dark, runic armor, casting eerie shadows on the snow and ice below.

Humans died in droves, yet he felt nothing; he had given up on his humanity a long time ago.

"Reload the cannons! Prepare the next wave!" he ordered, his voice still carrying clearly despite the wind and death.

He felt no fear as he lived a good life. 'If we really lose this war, at least I will die like true evil henchmen, engraving my name in history.'