The journey did not seem eternal. Day by day, I saw new things, learned, developed. My strength kept increasing. I just could not yet produce my own magic—that was a real problem when my master and mentor struggled day by day to feed me while he depended on his tired muscles and hungry stomach. So every time he fed, I left to feed myself by more mundane means. I did not need to eat in the strict sense. Yet in the deep sea, near where we were heading, there were several fish that were adversaries—some could even handle a primitive level of magic, which suited me. I fought every step of the way. While he slept, while we walked, I tried not to eliminate those species that posed no threat. But as we approached what I thought was our destination, this became more difficult.
I asked long ago what was irrational—now I was seeing it. Where we walked, I perceived no sign of animal life. That was surprising, as thinking species were primarily responsible for the disappearance of animals that represented some threat, but they were also the few who had some kind of livestock to provide food beyond slaughter in hunting. It was strange, but I learned not to ask without reason. We had kept silent for a week. This was not because we needed to communicate with words—what we usually did was explore things with the mind. It exhausted my master less; it only lasted a few minutes before he fell unconscious, but it was enough. I woke wiser.
I understood what types of trees surrounded us, what the styles of armed and unarmed combat were. I discovered that my claws were special—nothing retractable. I understood that what my species consumed did not serve much, given the fire that permanently burned inside us—not that we had flames inside, but it was a flammable substance mixed with a fire enchantment, making physical and magical defenses useless on their own. Unfortunately, he could not teach me to fight. He had knowledge of many combat methods, but mine should be used with a body of at least a ton—not with the build of a human who was simply very dark, long hands with claws, wings on his back, and a tail with a bone tip. Using this, he tried to show me some basic defense and attack movements. However, with the power he had, he could not have a real confrontation with me.
Just as we spotted some mountains in the distance, I saw him draw his weapon. It was very special—I was sure no one like him could use it. During the day, he always kept it at hand, despite the few enemies we faced. Three days ago, we ran into a small contingent of Chaos creatures. I could smell their putrefaction twenty minutes before seeing them. My master fought with his eyes closed—he did not have the organs as such; he always used magic with which he could perceive physical and energetic things. It was impressive. But this time, he did not do it. He told me to watch him. I did more out of curiosity, since he had almost no magical power. What could he do against more than two hundred creatures surrounding us?
The movement could only be described as fluid—every cut, circular movement, lateral steps—he wasted none. It was all a concatenation of attacks. He swept away the small ones using the side of the sword, then using the momentum, he made a small flame of five centimeters—very hot—coming from the crystal on the other side of his weapon. With that, he incinerated a giant beast's brain. The rest surrounded him, and then I saw his kicks—propelled with a little magic, certainly, but with the resistance removed from his body, each kick must have burst skin or broken a bone. Yet enemies with quite resistant exoskeletons lost a piece of themselves or were thrown into nothingness. As he fought, he did not see—but heard. I could almost feel how he did it. Incredible.
A couple of them attacked me, fleeing the Overlord's terror. My hands opened furrows in their heads. For a moment, I wished I could do what he did, but I did not yet produce my own magic—I depended on my inherent abilities as a dragon. But that felt like cheating, so I limited myself to trying some of his movements. One of them wielded the sword with both hands in a descending arc, but instead of finishing the movement with both hands, this weapon lengthened! No, it was not that—but he left only one hand on it, so his reach was greater. With a normal weapon, that must be difficult. With something so heavy, to be human, you need a strength not typical of his species. I tried the same, shifting my axis, giving all my weight in that same movement with my hand in the shape of a sword. The cut split him in half, then opened part of the floor. I was so excited that I made that diagonal stroke, finishing off the other two. Yet I was somewhat close to my master. He jumped, turning around while holding his weapon with both hands. The impact sent him flying. I had to make sure he was all right!
He did not teach me anything more in the following weeks. He did not seem annoyed—just pained. I knew that under normal conditions, my attack should not have bothered him. But now, I had to be careful. It was true, I was strong, but only because he remained weak. I had to find what gave dragons so much power. My mother never mentioned it—not in dreams, not when I was not yet born. She only said that a true black dragon required so much magic because they had the strength to split heaven and earth. I knew I was not entirely a black dragon, but I did not need to be—not yet, at least. I had to think about everything I wanted to be and desire so that I could assume a name—one that would describe to whoever heard it what my wishes in the world and the future were.
We arrived at the edge of a village. I could see their huts hidden in the foliage. Here, I learned something new: the Dark Lord moved with noise—not that I could not hear him, but his footsteps resonated like falling leaves; his body moved without interrupting the path of light in the trees. I tried—it was a matter of making the environment feel you as part of it—not disappearing, but helping the environment disappear you. It was difficult, but I was the noise of a rodent in the forest—not bad.
The village looked bad—broken walls, scarce people, but even among them, they had a look of fear, not apathy. That was strange. I saw no crops, and the people were just there, in the center of the jungle, without leaving the safety of the clearings. I was about to ask a question, but my master pointed to the sky. There, I heard screams—animals, grotesque, somewhat similar to my voice without elegance. They only clamored for things like power and how they possessed it. From various parts of the clearing began to emerge... what were they? They had humanoid bodies but with reptile characteristics, all heavily armed, both ground and air. The people screamed in panic; some grabbed a trident or a sickle, but no one threw themselves to attack. They kept their daughters and mothers in the center of the village; the elderly and children I could make out were the ones outside.
"These are the children of a dragon, but none share their knowledge or magic—only brutality."
But there were hundreds. The master must understand that these humans posed no threat to this army.
"They don't need men or provisions... they need larger armies—women who can have them."
That is an abomination! Women should not be able to procreate like that. Those are not dragons—not like me. They are draconians in their mode and action! I will not let this continue! I threw myself into battle—without my master, without a plan, without anything. But injustice was something I would not allow, wherever and against whomever. Justice did not belong to the powerful!