Po Shang knew exactly what he was doing. He had always known more than others and it infuriated him that he had to cow to his foolish brother. The door to the vault opened under his destructive fist. A crowd of the pathetic bystanders that amounted to the future of the Guan family were gawking now.

Just stand and watch. As long as no one got in his way, they would be doing more good than normal, Po Shang thought angrily. Half tempted to let loose a blast of energy down the hall, he instead let his mana flare. A few of the cross stage children fainted, and Po Shang saw one of them vomit from the sudden pressure of his power. Good. Get used to it. I will not be contained ever again.

It was almost too easy. As he stepped into the vault, no great protector rose to stop him. As he had always suspected, it was not actually a soul stone, or the ability to wield one that would allow them into the Guan vault. It was power, pure and simple. A fact becoming more and more clear with every passing moment.

Guan Po Shang had spent his entire life chasing power, it felt. First he had needed to be strong enough to forge a place of safety. His mother and father had seen to it that Dia and himself would not be stopped by anyone who crossed their path. Together, he and Dia had carved the Guan country into the landscape irrevocably.

So why was he always overlooked? Why do the richest and the rewards flow through his brother, and never through himself? Simple luck.

Po Shang would not live his life based on the whim of a fate that said he was lesser. It had been many decades since he last stepped within the Guan vault, but he could never forget the grey and silver sight that had captured and enraptured him as a boy. As though the room was on his side, Po Shang found his quarry within moments. As though the suit of armour wanted to be found.

A set of intimidating steel plate armour was draped over a wooden skeleton. Even without someone inside, it seemed as though it might leap forward. The helmet bore fierce horns and a long mane of red hair fell from it. The silver gauntlets bore claws at the end of the fingers, same on the boots. Each portion of the armour seemed designed with destruction in mind, from the claws to the horns to the sharp points that each piece was covered in.

As Po Shang looked at this majestic suit of armour, it looked back at him.

When he was a child, he had seen his father placing this set into the vault himself. At his curiosity, his father had told him that a man had nearly destroyed the Jiaoduo and everything in it with this armour. It had taken the combined effort of his mother and father working in tandem to bring that man down, a fact that had always seemed impossible to Po Shang. As light danced on the surface of the shiny metal, Po Shang had seen eyes within the helmet. Not on the mannequin within, but the monstrous helmet itself had eyes of glowing amber. He saw those same eyes again now, and they were as hungry as Po Shang was.

Now his mother and father were both empty husks. The fire they once kindled was dead or dying, stolen by those younger and unqualified. His brother was a slave to his position, unable to do anything without the express permission of the emperor, lest the demons start making headway into Guan lands.

Everything was falling apart and it was down to him, Po Shang, to save his family in spite of themselves. His daughter had failed at containing this issue before it reached this stage, and Po Kahn had somehow failed at dealing with the aftermath of his sister’s failure. It was a mistake trusting anyone but himself. Despite their shortcomings and the insulting life that Po Shang had been forced to lead, his benevolence would shine through that murk.

As long as they begged for the forgiveness he would never give.

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The glass of the display case shattered, Po Shang simply swelled his mana and broke it to pieces. He scoffed at the pitiful protections as he donned each piece of the armour. With each plated piece of metal that fell easily onto his body, that fit to him like it had been designed with his shape in mind, a cold brutality grew more and more comfortable in his mind.

He didn’t even notice as it began to devour his mana, and by the time he reached his quarry, the proud Guan Po Shang didn’t even know his own name.

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The vault of the Guan family was not a truly unique piece of architecture, but it was certainly one of the most impressive applications of the craft. The slow and arduous process required to manipulate spatial mana in such a way was nearly impossible to achieve within a single human lifetime. It had been accomplished by a prodigy, one Guan Xaihou Shen, and it had been his life’s work.

This delicate balance was sturdy, certainly, but as soon as one script failed the rest were doomed to follow. For the dragon Ryong Aang, this structure was still rather fledgling. The Guan family had found the staff that it was currently existing as and had, fearing it, driven it into the solid rock. Not particularly minding where the vessel of his soul was being contained, Ryong Aang was content to simply watch the goings of the Guan. Occasionally one of the scurrying little humans would try to wield its power and the dragon amused itself with granting small modicums of strength.

Ryong Aang did not have the capacity for boredom. An infinite life made for a much more thoughtful existence, it seemed. That said, the ground was beginning to feel unpleasant. The rotten stench of that foul, alien labyrinth was pervasive and disgusting. For a time, Ryong Aang had thought that the humans had placed the staff in proximity with the foetid place as a safeguard.

That would not have been wise. Ryong Aang had no power over the movements within that place, nor would the dragon risk its own existence battling the will of that thing.

Luckily for the humans, that was not the case. Their protection from the bizarre dungeons that had appeared below the world was to treat them as precious. Mortals were interesting, and rarely shared their precious things with each other as dragons would, so the world around Ryong Aang became quiet. The prodigy built his storeroom and suddenly very few came to see the great Ryong Aang. Fewer still dared see if they were worthy of the dragon’s power.

Those that did come were bearing her mark. Bearing the mark of the labyrinth and the sweet, sickly smell which followed the goddess’ movements, these Guan were slowly being eaten by her. It made Ryong Aang’s senses burn to feel her influence so closely, and the heat of a dragon’s ire kept nearly all at bay.

Nearly all.

It was the small one that piqued interest beyond casual observance. She hated the goddess’ touch as well. She had burned in a way that Ryong Aang liked. All humans were children, but this one was young even amongst them, and still she reached out towards Ryong Aang’s staff as though the heat was nothing to her. Ryong Aang watched as this girl, Guan Fa Lian, proved every piece the prodigy as her ancestor.

Ryong Aang was forced to watch as she was tainted by the touch of the goddess because her family failed her. It had been gratifying to see that she did not want the soul stone, but that made little difference. Rebellion would lessen the hold of the goddess’ corruption however.

The dragon had turned away then, hiding more than usual. Disappointment was very much a feeling that dragons could feel. It stuck into the dragon’s mind like a needle, the wasted potential of it.

So, when, a moment ago, Ryong Aang had realised it was her hand that he was melting, the dragon was quick to recall its heat. Curiosity blazed fiercely, and Ryong Aang made himself work with the girl as she lifted the staff from the ground. She was shivering, the dragon reasoned because she must be cold, so it filled her full of its heat and Ryong Aang felt confidence replace the cold and fear that had been taking hold.

Good. If the dragon chose, it was possible he could burn away the corruption of the girl’s spirit. If she had, in the time Ryong Aang was not looking, continued her rebellion then it was possible… Well, time would tell.

For now, the girl needed to survive the assault from her uncle. The man was a passable practitioner, but the armour he wore was Steel Fever, a being comparable in scope to Ryong Aang itself. It would be a fair battle, if the dragon’s power was utilised. Ryong Aang was not certain the outcome would be favourable for the young Guan. Maybe this other goddess touched child would be able to help, though that also seemed unlikely. As always, the dragon simply watched and waited.

Without realising it, the ancient and powerful dragon, immortal Ryong Aang, became invested in the lives of these few Guan children.

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It had been decades since Steel Fever was able to feast. The meal that he currently wore was perfect. A delicacy, such a talented practitioner of blade and fire mana, the armour could do nothing but feast upon the bounty and replace the man’s mana with its own. It didn’t matter to the suit of armour what happened to the man within, if he died then it would just jump to the next person, and the next, as it always used to.

Then it would be able to continue on its path and destroy this pathetic fakery of a world.