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Over the many ages I’ve existed, I’ve been known by several names: The King of Dragons. The First Dragon. The High Destroyer. The Terror Flame.

I am Bahamut.

You’ve probably heard of me?

Yes?

Very good. You do have some potential, then.

I cannot claim to have coined the term “Dragon,” but I can claim to have brought Dragons as we know them into this world.

But perhaps you don’t know that despite my mighty stature now, I was not always the King of Dragons. Oh, no.

In fact, there was a time when I knew nothing of what I was. Nothing of Dragons. And nothing of my people who could become… were destined to become… these massive, mythical creatures.

My previous life started in slavery and misery. I was born into a once-proud clan who was forced into servitude as soldier-slaves to a race of beings we called the “Invaders.”

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We didn’t know where the Invaders came from or what they wanted. We only knew subjugation as we were forced to fight for them, against our will.

Until the day I found a way out. I escaped.

Somehow, as broken and wretched a creature as I was, I was Summoned. Called to a place of great power. The Glade. There, I connected with the form that slept dormant within me. I embraced the Flames of Bedlam. I became the First True Dragon.

Then, burning with hate and Chaos, I returned to the homestead of my once-captors. I reveled in my power as I scorched the Invader city and leveled the central point of their civilization.

Oh, don’t look at me that way. They had it coming.

Once I’d had my fill of destruction, I found others like me — people of my clan who also had the innate power to change forms. I brought them back to the Glade and gifted them with the power of Dragons.

They were to be my army against the remaining Invaders. Only… it didn’t work out the way I thought it would.

They were Dragons, creatures like myself. Made of grief and hate, they were also tempered by Chaos. I sent them to destroy, and they destroyed. The Chaos within us grew as we consumed.

We tipped the balance of the world. The nations around us crumbled as we rose to loom over the cities of graves.

It all felt masterful as we scratched that primal itch. But, it was a spiral into our own destruction as we fed the Flames of Bedlam in a vicious cycle.

The world may have cracked under our weight in time. Everything I sought to control may have turned to dust. We came so close to nothingness, though we were so powerful.

My destructive rampage lasted for about a year after my first transformation. In the end, I must grudgingly admit that it was the Tidemaker who changed the course of everything…