Dark tendrils of flesh slithered from Alex's broken form, sinking into the fleshy ground beneath them, causing it to pulse and writhe .

The others instinctively took a few steps back, watching with a mix of awe and uncertainty. The tendrils fed on the ground made from bone and meat, drawing vitality back into Alex's ruined body.

Piece by piece, his broken form began to rebuild. Muscles knitted under his peeling skin, new layers of flesh formed and took on a healthy, vibrant hue. His once gaunt face filled with life, and his hair—dark and rich—cascaded back over his head. His clothes, began to re-form, weaving themselves from Alex's flesh.

Alex stood tall once more, renewed and whole. His hand instinctively reached up to his head, where his hood had reformed, and he pulled it down with a small, almost humble gesture.

Astarion, watching the transformation with wide, amused eyes, leaned toward Gale, whispering, “Does this mean he was naked all along, even when he was wearing clothes?” His smirk was full of mischief, though a touch of awe lingered in his voice.

Gale, who had been staring at Alex with uncharacteristic silence, shook his head slowly. "Astarion, now may not be the time," he murmured, his voice tinged with wonder. "What we’ve just witnessed is beyond anything I’ve seen... even in the presence of Mystra."

Before anyone else could react, Alfira broke the stillness, her voice full of relief and joy. "Alex!" She dashed forward, her arms flung wide as she wrapped them around him, clinging tightly. "We thought… we thought you had died!" Her words caught in her throat, the tears that had been streaming down her cheeks now mingled with the joy of having him back.

Alex smiled, though the weight of everything he had endured was still visible in his eyes. He hugged her back, holding her tightly as if grounding himself in her warmth. “I’m sorry, Alfira. The transformation took everything out of me. But I’m here. I’m alright now.”

Karlach, her eyes still shining with unshed tears, stepped forward next, her voice gruff but her affection unmistakable. “Everything? For gods' sake, Alex, you looked like you were roasted alive by a dragon and then had your soul sucked out by a necromancer. Good to have you back, though.” Without waiting for permission, she threw her massive arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight, almost crushing embrace. “And by the way, that transformation? Total badass.”

Shadowheart, standing nearby, crossed her arms, her gaze piercing as she studied him. There was a wariness in her tone as she asked, “Did you… become a god?” As a former cleric of Shar, Shadowheart had felt divine power in her bones before—and in that moment, when Alex had unleashed the convergence of radiant magic, she had felt something disturbingly close to godhood.

Alex exhaled, running a hand through his newly regrown hair. “I absorbed a lot of divine energy directly from Lathander, Selûne, and Eilistraee, but I didn’t reach godhood. I was close… but it wasn’t my path.” His eyes darkened as he recalled the overwhelming presence he had felt in that fleeting moment—a force so vast and incomprehensible that it had made him feel like a mere speck. “I felt something watching me. If I had taken that final step, I’m certain… whatever it was, it would have obliterated me. I wasn’t meant for that.”

Wyll stepped forward, his usual confident demeanor tempered with reverence. “You’ve walked a path most mortals only dream of—and survived it. That’s something extraordinary, Alex.”

Lae'zel intervened. "Extraordinary is a disgusting understatement."

Aylin, chuckled, her wings flicking behind her. “I bet if more gods knew about you, you’d be coveted like a beautiful maiden ready to be wed.” Her voice was full of playful admiration, but there was a deep respect in her eyes as she regarded him.

“Thank you… I think?” Alex responded, managing a small laugh, though it was clear the experience had shaken him.

Halsin, his brow furrowed, approached with quiet strength. "The natural world responded to your transformation, Alex. I felt it in the earth. It is no small thing to hold the essence of gods within you and emerge unchanged." His large hand rested on Alex’s shoulder. "But you are here, alive. That is what matters."

Jaheira stood slightly apart, arms crossed, her face a mask of contemplation. “ You may not be a god, but gods have touched you. Remember that. Use it wisely, or not at all. Power has a way of corrupting even the best of intentions.”

Ellyka, who had been silently watching from the shadows, spoke, her eyes glowing faintly. “Myrkul god of death , more like god that is dead”

Her words caused a few chuckled around the group.

Zevlor, though quiet, approached with a solemn nod. "You’ve given us all something to believe in, Alex. Whatever happens from here, know that you’ve already done more than most could ever dream of."

"He likes the attention." Glut whispered to Shadow as he emerged from Glut's shadow.

'And what If I do ? ' Alex asked telepathically as their link was reestablished.

Lastly, Isobel, approached slowly.

Alex looked at her and open his mouth to speak . "Isobel , even in his last moments he was still thinking of you. And when you are ready come speak to me . I have something very important to tell you. "

Isobel simply nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of everything she had endured, of the choices she had made.

_________________

Alex scanned the faces of everyone—each of them worn and grimy from battle, yet still carrying the fragile glimmer of victory. The weight of everything they had been through lingered in the air like a heavy fog. But there was a sense of relief, of camaraderie, in their shared exhaustion. Smiles crept across their faces, tentative but genuine.

But those smiles quickly faded when Alex spoke, his voice carrying the weight of something unresolved. “Minthara… she chose not to be revived.”

Karlach’s face dropped, her fiery eyes widening in disbelief. “What? Why?” Her voice cracked with surprise, as if the thought was incomprehensible.

The others turned their attention to Alex, silent but expectant.

Alex took a deep breath, his voice quieter but no less firm. “She chose to atone for what she did. It was her decision… to make peace with herself.”

A thick silence fell over the group, an unspoken mourning that each of them felt in their own way. It wasn’t just the loss of a companion—it was the acceptance of a choice, a path none of them could fully understand. Minthara had lived a life of struggle, torn between forces that shaped her, and now she was gone—by her own will.

The tension grew, thick and heavy, until Alex himself cut through it. “We’ll talk more about this later. Right now, there’s something I need to take care of—the Absolute’s army. They’re heading to Baldur’s Gate.”

Gale, standing close by, furrowed his brow and took a step forward. “You just slew a god, Alex. Let us help with this. You don’t have to do it alone.”

But before anyone else could protest, psionic energy began to swirl above Alex’s head, coalescing into a shimmering image of power—an ethereal projection. The image flickered with radiant and dark energies, showing a form more powerful than they could have imagined.

Karlach’s mouth hung open, her eyes flicking between the image and Alex himself. “Yeah… he’s got this,” she muttered in disbelief, her voice a mixture of awe and pride.

Astarion, ever the sarcastic vampire, gave a low chuckle. “When they see that, they’ll soil themselves. What a shame I won’t be there to witness the panic firsthand.”

Lae’zel, whose gaze had been locked on the projection, nodded approvingly, her warrior’s heart full of admiration. “Such power. So majestic. The Absolute’s army won’t stand a chance.”

The ground trembled beneath them. As Bullet broke through the nearby wall, his form snorting as he waited for the group . The path before them was clear—they needed to leave.

One by one, they cast a final glance at Alex, each saying goodbye in their own way, whether with a nod, a smile, or simply a look that carried a thousand unsaid words. They knew he would face this next challenge alone, and though it pained them to leave, they trusted him—because they had seen what he was capable of.

Karlach clapped him on the back, her strong hands lingering for a moment longer.

Astarion smirked, flicking an invisible speck of dust from his coat.

Gale gave him a knowing look.

At last the beast let out a deep growl and disappeared down the tunnel. The sound of their departure echoed, slowly fading into the darkness, leaving Alex standing alone in the stillness.

He remained motionless, watching until they were gone. The echoes of their voices faded, and silence returned. A soft breath escaped his lips as he stood there, no longer surrounded by companions, but by the memories of what had been.

Dark tendrils of flesh began to form around him, curling and twisting like living shadows. They coiled up his legs and across his torso, wrapping him in an inky cocoon.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Inside that cocoon, Alex closed his eyes.

For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel the weight of everything—the loss of Minthara, the defeat of Myrkul, the endless fight that still lay ahead.

_______________

Atop the watchtower, Melvin squinted through his spyglass, his hand trembling as he peered into the horizon. His face grew paler by the second as the sight unfolded before him, a creeping dread washing over him like a slow tide.

"Is that... is that a fucking elder brain?" Melvin whispered, his voice barely audible as he focused on the gigantic, pulsating brain floating ominously behind the ranks of monstrous soldiers—ogres, goblins, bugbears, drow warriors, and a sea of others, all armed to the teeth. The twisted forces of the Absolute were preparing to march on the city. "Gods... all those people," he muttered, pulling the spyglass away from his eye and glancing at his friend, his voice tight with despair. "If we retreat now... they'll all die. Families, children... we can't just leave them."

Galvin stood next to him, arms crossed, his face tight with frustration. He rolled his eyes but not out of mockery. It was the helpless kind of frustration that had nowhere to go. "You and your big heart," Galvin said with a sigh. "Look, I hate it too, but there’s nothing we can do. Grand Duke Ravengard gave the order—we retreat behind the walls, and we protect the city. That’s it."

"But what about those people out there, Galvin? What about the children? The families just trying to survive? You're telling me we just let them get slaughtered?" Melvin’s voice grew louder, the edge of desperation cutting through every word. His hands tightened into fists as he stared down at the helpless masses below the walls, people who had no idea the horror that was about to descend on them.

Galvin clenched his jaw and looked away, the tension in his body evident. “You think it doesn’t tear me up inside? You think it’s easy for me to stand here and watch this? But what the hell can two guards do against an army like that? Against that thing?” He gestured out toward the dark masses gathering in the distance, the monstrous elder brain floating like a nightmare made real. “We follow orders, Melvin. That’s what we do. The city needs us. All we can do is… pray for a damn miracle.”

Melvin dragged a hand down his face, his heart heavy with frustration. "A miracle..." he muttered bitterly. His mind raced, scrambling for something, anything that could tip the scales. And then, as if the words had summoned the memory from deep within him, he remembered. "Ansur," he breathed. The legendary dragon, the protector of Baldur’s Gate. A mythical guardian said to slumber beneath the city, waiting for a moment of true need. "Like Ansur... the dragon."

Galvin shook his head, a weak chuckle escaping his lips. "Ansur? Melvin, those are old stories. Fairy tales they tell kids to give them hope."

Before Melvin could respond, the air around them shifted. A low rumble shook the ground beneath their feet, followed by an earth-shaking roar that echoed across the skies. It was a sound so powerful, so primal, that both men froze where they stood. The heavens themselves seemed to tremble at its might.

“What the hell?” Galvin gasped, his voice barely a whisper, his eyes widening in pure, unfiltered shock as he spun on his heel, gaze darting skyward.

Melvin, trembling uncontrollably, fumbled with his spyglass. His hands were slick with sweat, and it took all his focus just to steady them long enough to peer through the lens. His heart thundered in his chest, a brutal rhythm that matched the growing sense of dread clawing its way through him. His breath hitched as his eye finally found the massive silhouette in the sky—a shadow so large, so terrifying, that it seemed to swallow the heavens whole.

It wasn’t like any dragon he had ever heard of, much less seen. This creature… it defied explanation. The thing that loomed overhead was no mere dragon of legend. No, this was something far more primal. More terrifying.

It was black, a void against the dusky sky, but its form was more than just darkness. Its body, grotesque and massive, seemed to ripple and pulse as if it were alive—constantly shifting between solid form and something almost semi-liquid. The texture of its flesh was not like traditional scales. No, its "skin" looked like an abomination—an interwoven mass of black tendrils, sinew, and flesh fused together, as though the creature itself was a nightmare born from the deepest, darkest corners of the Abyss. Beneath its dark surface, veins of red light pulsed like molten lava coursing through a living, breathing volcano. The blackened tendrils twitched and coiled, shifting restlessly across its form, giving the dragon the appearance of a creature that was constantly becoming something else. Something worse.

The head… gods, the head alone sent waves of horror rippling through Melvin’s mind. It was elongated, sharp, and wickedly angular, like a demon’s. Its maw was wide, filled with rows of serrated, jagged teeth that glinted even in the faint light. Teeth made not just to bite, but to tear, to rend flesh from bone in a gruesome, merciless fashion. The crown of its head was lined with brutal, hooked spikes that ran down the length of its neck—each one sharp enough to skewer a man whole.

And then there were its eyes. Those eyes… two glowing orbs of menacing red, burning with a predatory gleam that could only be described as pure malice. They seemed to pierce through the very air, casting a hellish glow over everything they fell upon. It wasn’t just the size or the form of the beast that terrified him—it was the sheer intelligence behind those eyes. This was no mindless monster. It was something far worse. Something calculated. Predatory.

The dragon's wings stretched impossibly wide, their leathery membrane stretched taut over massive, gnarled bones, tipped with jagged edges that could tear through stone. The beast’s body was a perfect fusion of muscle and sinew, built for devastation. Its tail, long and prehensile, whipped behind it with lethal grace, tipped with a spiked club that gleamed dangerously, ready to smash and impale its enemies. Every part of the creature looked like it had been designed for one purpose: to kill. To destroy.

Its limbs, thick with raw power, ended in elongated claws that gleamed like obsidian in the dim light. Each strike from those claws would be like the swing of a reaper’s scythe, capable of tearing through solid steel, flesh, and bone alike. Dark tendrils wrapped around those limbs, as though the creature itself was not just living, but growing, its form shifting and twisting with every movement.

“This… this isn’t real,” Melvin muttered, barely able to find his voice. His hands trembled, and he nearly dropped the spyglass as the enormity of what he was seeing sank in. “It can’t be real…”

Galvin, for once speechless, could only stare, his mouth hanging open . “Melvin… what the hell is that thing?” he whispered. His usual sardonic tone was completely gone, replaced by pure fear.

“I-I don’t know…” Melvin stammered, his heart still hammering against his ribs. His breath came in shallow gasps as he watched the beast get close and closer to the city, its wings beating methodically.

The creature let out a roar, and it was unlike anything they had ever heard before. It wasn’t just loud—it was a deafening, soul-shattering scream of pure rage and hatred. The roar seemed to shake the very fabric of reality, a primal sound that echoed across the battlefield, freezing every soldier, every civilian, in place. It wasn’t just a noise. It was a warning. A promise of death.

Far below, the armies of the Absolute faltered. Ogres, goblins, bugbears, and even the hardened drow soldiers hesitated, their eyes wide with fear as they stared up at the monstrous dragon. Panic was starting to spread like wildfire through their ranks, and even the most hardened warriors took a step back, unsure of what this new, terrible force was.

Galvin, still pale, tore his gaze from the sky and looked at his friend, his voice filled with dread. “Melvin… this isn’t Ansur. This… this is something worse.”

Melvin, still trembling, lowered the spyglass and nodded. “I know,” he whispered, his voice hollow. His stomach churned as he realized that whatever that thing was, it was beyond anything they had ever prepared for. No legend or story could have warned them about this.

__________________________

Alex flew high above the battlefield, gazing down at the endless sea of the Absolute’s forces—an army of monstrous beings stretching far beyond the horizon. Goblins, ogres, bugbears, drow, and even a terrifying Elder Brain loomed in the rear, commanding the chaotic swarm. Thousands of eyes gleamed with hunger, ready to descend upon Baldur's Gate like a wave of darkness, devouring everything in their path.

But it wasn’t fear that filled Alex’s heart. No. It was power—pure, unrelenting power.

His dragon form, a monstrous fusion of flesh and chaos, pulsed with energy. His muscles rippled beneath the dark, biomorphic tendrils that intertwined across his body. His wings, colossal and jet-black, stretched out behind him like the banners of a new god, each beat of them shaking the very air itself. The veins glowing beneath his skin pulsed in sync with the heartbeat of the world, and the sky itself seemed to tremble as if recognizing his newfound dominion.

He stared down at the Absolute’s forces, and for the first time, he realized what it meant to hold the power of the strongest organism ever created. This was what it meant to be a god among mortals. The quivering masses below him—these creatures, no matter how terrifying they appeared to anyone else—were nothing more than insects before him. And it was time for them to understand that.

It was time for them to feel the power of the apex predator.

A deafening roar erupted from his throat—an ear-splitting, otherworldly sound that carried the full weight of his fury and dominion. It was a roar that made the earth tremble and the sky seem to darken, blotting out the sun as if even the heavens themselves feared what was to come.

Down below, the army of the Absolute faltered. Even the most battle-hardened warriors, the goblin chieftains, the hulking ogres, and the cold-blooded drow, all stopped in their tracks. Their eyes widened in sheer terror as they looked up at the black dragon , larger than life, a living embodiment of death itself. They had prepared for war. They had expected resistance. But they had never, in their darkest nightmares, imagined this.

The Elder Brain pulsed in the distance, its psychic tendrils reaching out, trying to grasp control of the minds of its troops, urging them forward—but even its commands faltered as Alex's presence became a black hole of dominance. No force, not even the psychic terror of the Elder Brain, could stand against the sheer will radiating from the monstrous figure above them.

His wings beat once, twice, and then with the force of a hurricane, he launched himself downward. The very air seemed to part before him as he plummeted toward the battlefield below like a falling meteor, his body wreathed in dark energy. The world slowed for just a moment, the forces of the Absolute watching in frozen terror, and then—

Impact.

Alex struck the ground like a god’s hammer, sending shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. Dark looming spikes emerged around Alex. The earth buckled beneath him, fissures spreading out like veins of chaos. Hundreds of goblins were sent flying into the air, their bodies disintegrating upon impact as the sheer force of Alex's landing obliterated everything in its immediate radius. The Absolute’s frontline crumbled, and panic spread like wildfire as the invincible army found itself facing something far more terrifying than they had ever anticipated.

And then Alex unleashed his power.

Tendrils of black biomass erupted from his body, snaking out across the battlefield, coiling around ogres, bugbears, and drow alike, crushing them in their grasp. His claws, sharper than the finest blades, tore through ranks of soldiers, each swipe sending limbs and weapons scattering like broken toys. The ground beneath him was no longer solid—it had become an extension of his will, a living, breathing nightmare as his tendrils fed upon the very earth itself, consuming it and growing stronger with each kill.

In the back, the Elder Brain pulsed in desperation, trying to regain control. But it was too late. Alex’s gaze snapped to the massive brain hovering in the distance, his red eyes glowing with an infernal light. With a deep breath, he gathered the raw energy that coursed through his form, his chest swelling with power as flames began to swirl in his throat.

And then, with a roar that split the heavens, Alex unleashed a torrent of , hellish fire—an inferno that blazed across the battlefield, vaporizing everything in its path. The flames surged forward, a tidal wave of destruction that consumed the Elder Brain’s army, turning armored drow and monstrous ogres into ash in the blink of an eye. The air itself seemed to catch fire as the flames raged across the land, unstoppable, unquenchable.