Riasko gritted his teeth. The pain was unimaginable but also unavoidable and necessary. He leaned on his [Lessen Pain] skill, something he had paid quite the price to acquire, and stood still as a rock. It still felt like he was being skinned alive, and the true process hadn’t even begun yet. He couldn’t even hold on to his disguising skill, but that was of no consequence to the grand scheme. Just a small detail.

He had to stand on the precipice, to know life on the verge of death for the ritual to work. The system notifications announcing his lessening Vitality were like nails in his mind.

He would endure, as what he was doing was for the future of all who believed in him. For his world. For the clan. And above all, for himself. He knew very well that after he acquired the bloodline, he would become a prisoner to his own family. Someone to be grown like a houseplant until the situation was deemed safe for him to sire a new generation and use his secretly developed power to elevate the clan.

He didn’t mind it. He was excited about it as all the resources and treasures that would be set aside for his development would make anyone else die from jealousy. From a young age, he had been taught how to mask his true intentions, to act as if he belonged, to blend, to lie, and to play the fool. This was his reward for allowing the undeserving to step on him, to think themselves equal. And he would do it all again if it meant being unique and strong. A time when he wouldn’t have to take any more disrespect from anyone.

There was no question that the chances of the dragon surviving the ritual were slim and that the Blood God and the fanatics who followed Him and made use of His power would suffer for it. Not that they could’ve done the ritual without the proper knowledge and tools acquired by his father. Another large expense that was worth it. Riasko didn’t want to think of what it had taken the clan to acquire something of such value. Allowing those of lesser tier to perform exquisite rituals meant for higher beings was a miracle in itself.

Those responsible for the fractal would suffer too, and if the dragon truly died, which was the preferable outcome, the Dragon Throne would probably burn a world or two as an example. That was the only true danger, but he was certain that with all the measures the clan had taken, he wouldn’t be found out. The treasure implanted deep in his chest would ensure his survival and disappearance and even now gave him great comfort in this moment of turbulence. Even if all else went crashing down for one reason or another, he was set.

There would be no witnesses left anyway. He smirked through the pain and surveyed his surroundings.

The [Puppeteer] had gone to fight too now while continuing to control each of the actions of the [Red Cleric] and those attending to her. He had been a great investment and quite a surprise. Such talented individuals would rarely risk themselves in such a way unless there was quite a personal gain involved.

The pathetic cleric was on the verge of dying already, as her flesh and mind were being fractured by sustaining a ritual far above her station. She was to serve as a cauldron which would unite his and the dragon’s existences, and she would die for it.

Two attendants were pouring expensive elixirs and healing salves on her in a constant rhythm. Even now Riasko could see the red cracks running through her skin, as if she was made of porcelain. They would undulate and widen until the next precious treasure healed her. Her work was almost done, thankfully. Dying to aid his future was a worthy fate for anyone and he knew that deep down she would be thankful. If anything of who she had been still remained.

The one of two unknowns was the strange mummified man with the blank plate for a mask. He had been supposed to help them, an outsider sent by those in command of the mercs they were paying. Someone strong. Dangerous. Yet, all the mummy bastard had done was ignore everyone, play around a bit like a fool, and then disappear doing who knows what.

Riasko would enjoy sending him and everyone else to the void. A proper sacrifice for his ascension to a higher lifeform. A bloodline of the void, combined with a class that specialized in projecting his will in the shape of tangible auras, was sure to make him incredible.

The second worrying part was the Deathless Plate. He had heard only stories of the strange thing, but seeing it firsthand had left a mark. This too was power he was jealous of, but unlike the bloodlines of the arrogant and vain dragons, it was not something just anyone could touch.

The Thelyra Dynasty was one of the most influential, yet mysterious of the Thrones. Their power was unquestionable and their Deathless warriors were a terror that kept even the other Thrones in check. Who wouldn’t fear that which cannot be killed? At least not easily.

No matter. They would just be a massive headache for the Dragon Throne to deal with.

Now all that remained, was to hold off the stubborn outpost bastards a bit longer. Wilbis was in for it if he thought he stood a chance at beating a [Barrier Master] picked specifically to counter him. The Exploding Library was an unpredictable and dangerous bunch, but Wilbis was just a lowly member.

The mercs had done their job superbly, even if they knew most of them would die. It was commendable how far they would go for the cause.

Another jolt of pain shot through him and he almost yelled. Just a little bit more and all would be resolved.

***

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Alan walked forward ever so slowly to disrupt the ring’s camouflaging ability as little as possible. It was a tough job, especially considering that the closer he got to the dragon, the more his bones were aching. He had experienced far worse, however. A little maddening pain was even refreshing to the current him and the adrenaline pumping through his veins helped too.

The lack of sound made the situation that much creepier. Figures slinging fireballs and using strange weapons in absolute silence was not a sight one saw every day. It was made worse by the shockwaves coming from Kalyntha’s fight with the strange puppets and the explosions that threatened to shatter the formation holding the fractal together coming from Wilbis and the barrier user.

Their fight was truly something incredible and Alan wondered if even the current him would be able to last as long fighting at full force. His mana reserves had grown significantly, but he doubted it.

Nevertheless, he crept forward, feeling like a fool and grinning like a madman. There was a high chance someone would sense him even if they couldn’t see or hear him. It was quite a pleasant surprise that with a little bit of effort, he found he was able to change the flow of his own mana and how interacted with the environment. It was still untested whether that achieved anything, but he did it nonetheless.

He just loved the thought of ruining someone's day, especially when that someone was responsible for all the chaos and death around. There was beauty in sabotaging those who thought themselves too smart and that was something the old Alan and the new Alan could wholeheartedly agree on.

The dragon was even more massive and scary up close, and its very presence was an unimaginable thing. Its eyes were closed and its breathing was shallow and slow, almost as if it was sleeping or in a coma. The breath leaving its barely cracked-open jaws reminded Alan of his own. Just like he breathed out shadows from time to time, the dragon’s lungs shot out tendrils of void that disrupted the mana in the air, threatening to suffocate and extinguish it.

It was a fascinating thing to watch.

For a moment, Alan wondered if getting a scale or two would be pushing his luck. How hard would they be to pick? How tough was a creature supposedly close to or already at tier three? Was there a dragon slayer achievement? He pushed the thought away. The last thing he needed was an all-powerful enemy in the face of one of the supposed rulers of the Realm.

His heart beat loudly with excitement with each step that brought him closer to the beast. There was still quite a large distance between him and it, and in the end, he decided to keep things that way. He simply circled from afar, getting on the other side of the dragon and hiding between the nearby rocks. What he saw there was just… nothing.

Emptiness. No, that was wrong. A lot was going on. He could feel it in his being and he could feel it in the surging mana all around.

He took a step.

Then another.

And a third.

Finally, on the eighth, he passed through a liquid screen. Another fucking barrier. It didn’t do much to stop him, nor did any of those who were revealed standing behind it react.

The sight was… disturbing. There was blood. A lot of it. It seemed to be coming in waves from a woman that Alan assumed was Zirida’s sister in faith. She looked as if she was out of it. Her eyes were white and misty, her skin cracked, and more blood than a human body should’ve been able to hold pouring out of her into four stones that were set about in a circle around a squirming hooded figure.

Alan noticed a few more, stabbed in the dragon's chest as it lay on its side. He recognized it for what it was. He had two skills that dealt with rituals, and he had completed one while the other remained a small mystery. However, it was enough expertise to allow him to see that this was a ritual and a very complicated one at that. It was too overwhelming to stare at the waves of energy undulating like a beating heart. That was way above what he had come in contact with.

The [Red Cleric] seemed to be acting as a link between the robed figure and the dragon. What was going on? Were they trying to change the dragon, erase its mind, and possess it, or something else entirely?

Alan shuddered as a strange feeling washed over him and made his mana rage inside of him. His head swam for just a moment, and he felt the faint whisper of his drying-out life force rear its ugly head like someone dying of thirst.

The life energy in the air was making him dizzy and he unconsciously licked his lips, like he was. Why did it feel so good to be near the strange event? Even his aching skeleton rejoiced from the very energy leaking out of the ritual.

This is something special. And I want a piece of it. After all, why not? Who am I harming? I’m helping the dragon, not trying to kill it... I got dragged into this shit show, and I think it’s time to get payment.

The whispers in his ears agreed and the shadows grew darker and more numerous, reflective of his desires. He could see them despite the camouflage, but he also knew they were something happening on the inside of his mind, rather than a physical phenomenon. They wouldn’t ruin his cover. There was nothing wrong with taking what he wanted, after all. Wasn’t that the purpose of it all? Wasn’t it why the System gave power to everyone, without judging the state of their minds and their morals?

Power was there for the taking, and rules were made by the strong.

Alan crept even closer, ready to shoot out with the greatest speed possible at a moment's notice. He was not quite sure what was happening or what he could do to take some of the supposed benefits and ruin the mastermind’s plans, but he had two curse marks ready to go.

Could his body take it? Or would he simply create an inexhaustible reservoir of life energy for himself? A life energy that resonated with him, life energy that wanted him as a vessel.

He also noticed a bunch of emptied-out vials and a smaller stack of full ones. Each was almost unique in design, elaborate, and containing elixirs of unknown make. The hooded figures pouring them over the suffering cleric were doing so meticulously, covering each new crack in her body, each wound. Their bodies seemed to be suffering from being so close to the ritual and tumorous growths were pushing beneath their clothes, tearing them apart.

Alan didn’t so much see what was happening as he sensed it with his newly developed sense of mana and energy. He had gone through something similar the first time too. The rampaging vitality was too much for the poor creatures. It was crashing with their own, making it mutate.

I might instantly die if I go near. My capacity is much lower than that of those things. Should I try to help? Or should I wait a bit more?

He wanted to save the woman, but he didn’t think there was much point in trying. Where she stood he sensed only the ritual, as if she had become one with it. Interrupting it would simply be erasing her. She was too far gone.

Another step and he was in position to see who was it on the other end of the ritual. He had to force his mouth shut not to gasp, but his heart leaped in his chest and the whispers grew stronger.

He would never forget that smug lizard face.

And Alan would make sure Riasko never forgot him.