Talent Awakening: Draconic Overlord Of The Apocalypse - Chapter 452: • More Than It Seems
After what felt like hours of trudging through the desolate wasteland, the group had passed through jagged ravines strewn with the bones of long-dead beasts. Now, their boots crunched against shattered stone as they stepped into the heart of a vast ruined castle.
The air here was thick with mana, a suffocating weight that pressed against their skin.
The magical signature they’d been tracking pulsed strongest here.
Ahead loomed massive double doors, their blackened surfaces etched with spiraling glyphs that seemed to shift and writhe under the flickering torchlight.
This was the threshold—the entrance to the boss room, where the dungeon core awaited.
Arden raised a hand, halting the group a few paces from the doors. They spread out slightly, catching their breath after dispatching the last wave of Aberrants in the corridor behind them.
Pools of dark red blood steamed on the floor, the remnants of their foes.
“Everyone still with me?” Arden asked, his voice calm but edged with weariness.
Green embers sparked faintly around his boots, a sign his mana was stretched thin.
Marcus cracked his neck with a loud snap, shifting his massive blade onto his shoulder.
“Still got a heavy slash or two left, Guildmaster. Don’t expect me to sprint, though. That last one got me good—may have broken a rib or two.” His armor was streaked with blood, old and fresh—not his, though.
Gina flexed her gauntlets, grimacing as she inspected the left speaker cannon.
“One of these got banged up back there—core crystal’s cracked. Cover me, and I’ll be fine. Might not get a full blast, though.”
The wires snaking along her spine flickered unevenly, their violet glow struggling to hold steady.
Jarek rolled his shoulders, wincing as they popped loudly.
“Hands might fall off mid-punch, but I’ll manage. Not missing this.” His knuckles were raw and bloodied, proof of the bloody fights they’d endured.
Logan grinned, hefting his chain-spiked mace with ease.
“Yeah, I’m good. Plenty of heads left to bash, no problem.” The crimson glow on the weapon pulsed faintly, eager for more violence.
Warner gave a curt nod, his six iron shards orbiting him slowly. Rainer adjusted the water canisters on his back, the liquid sloshing as he flashed a quick thumbs-up.
They were battered but still resolved.
Arden exhaled, his tired green eyes sweeping over them.
“Understood. Let’s move.”
He stepped forward, leading them toward the towering doors.
As they drew closer, a sharp ding pierced the silence.
A red system window flickered into existence before them, its edges crackling with static. Bold text glowed at the top:
“The Throne Room of the Mad Emperor.”
Below it, a cryptic description unrolled in jagged, uneven script:
He was born with a crown but no desire to wear it,
A ruler of peace, in a kingdom too small for his dreams.
In silence, he asked: “What is a king without power?”
And so, a hand reached out—a mind of shadows and madness.
“Give me your beasts, your faith, your fear,” it whispered,
“And I will give you the world.”
He obeyed.
Wing and fang were broken, bone and blood reshaped.
Temples wept as their gods fell silent.
He gained a world, but lost his name.
Gained armies, but forgot his people.
Gained immortality, but misplaced his soul.
Now he sits upon an ashen throne, staring at ghosts who no longer kneel.
His conquest complete, yet never finished.
He asks a question even now—
One he cannot answer.
“What is a dream, if the one who achieves it is not the same as the one who started the journey?”
Answer him… and perhaps his chains will break.
The words lingered before the window shimmered and faded into the mist.
Arden’s jaw tightened, his hand hovering near the door.
“A king who traded everything for power… this isn’t just a mindless boss we’re facing.”
Gina’s eyes narrowed, her damaged speaker cannon humming faintly.
“Intelligent and waiting, like I said. Whatever’s behind these doors, it’s ready for us.”
Marcus hefted his blade, a grim smirk tugging at his lips.
“Good. Hopefully it’s one of those pride types who underestimate us so we can get this over with quickly.”
Jarek cracked his knuckles.
“Let’s see if it bleeds.”
Arden pressed a hand against the cold metal of the door, green flames licking up his arm as he tested its weight.
The doors groaned faintly as they slowly creaked open.
That familiar, intrusive buzz erupted in his skull once more.
He froze, his breath catching as the static drilled into his senses, sharp and intense.
The world around him blurred at the edges, then came the voice—layered with a thousand overlapping echoes:
[Aspirant…]
His jaw clenched, fingers tightening against the door as the words burrowed deeper.
[You stand before the domain of a General-ranked Aberrant. Rank gap is far too large.]
[Battle is ill-advised.]
[You also do not possess a House name. Without such a binding, your attacks will be rendered ineffective due to Celestial law.]
[You will draw no strength from this place, nor will you obtain a Whisper.]
[Aspirant, to proceed beyond this point is to invite certain death.]
The buzzing snapped off as abruptly as it had begun, leaving a faint ringing in his ears.
The red mist outside the castle walls swirled faintly beyond the cracked windows, and the weight of the voice’s warning settled over him like a shroud.
His vision steadied, the glyphs on the door coming back into focus.
“Arden?” Gina’s raspy voice cut through the silence, her brow creasing as she stepped closer. The violet glow of her speaker cannon flickered weakly. “You’re spacing out again. What’s wrong?”
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to dislodge the lingering echo.
“It’s nothing,” he muttered, though his tone was tighter than usual. His green eyes flicked back to the doors, the warning gnawing at him.
A General Aberrant—stronger than anything they’d faced so far… what rank were the others then? Well, it didn’t matter at this point. What did was a House name… he didn’t have one—and without a House name, he’d be a liability… And for some reason, he had a feeling it would be the same for the rest of his team members.
Is this why the others couldn’t clear the dungeon? Arden wondered, but then he remembered that he’d seen their bodies earlier, so that was not the case—they were wiped out.
Shit! Does this mean… we won’t be clearing this after all?
Marcus shifted his blade, eyeing him skeptically, noticing he was lost in thought.
“Doesn’t look like nothing, Guildmaster. You sure you’re good?”
“I said I’m fine,” Arden snapped, then softened his tone with a sigh. “Just… something… I’ve been hearing a strange voice for a while now. I thought it was some sort of… hallucination. But it’s been very specific lately, so I’m starting to think that isn’t the case. Because it just warned me—we might be walking into more than we bargained for.”
Warner tilted his head, his iron shards slowing in their orbit as he studied Arden.
“More than we bargained for? That’s not exactly new, Guildmaster. What’s this voice saying?”
Arden hesitated, then let out a slow breath.
“It’s… some kind of system, I think. It called what’s behind these doors a General-ranked Aberrant.”
