Reborn as a Dragon:Rise of The Draconic King

Chapter 93 - 88:The Forgotten Mountain Folk

Night passed uneasily.

Though the expedition camp had remained undisturbed, none of them truly relaxed.

The southern wilderness felt too silent.

Even the wind carried tension.

The fire had burned low hours ago, leaving only red embers glowing beneath drifting ash, yet John remained awake.

The dragon lay at the edge of camp with his head resting over crossed foreclaws, golden eyes fixed on the mountain silhouettes beyond the dark forest.

Lythriel, unsurprisingly, was still awake too.

She sat nearby sharpening her spear.

*Scrape... scrape... scrape...*

John didn’t turn.

"You know," he rumbled, "I’m beginning to think you sharpen that thing for emotional support."

Lythriel stopped.

Slowly looked at him.

Then smirked.

"And I’m beginning to think you stare dramatically at horizons because you think it makes you mysterious."

Sylvara, wrapped in a travel cloak by the fire, covered a laugh.

Aerion didn’t even look up from the map he was studying.

"You are both too loud."

Lythriel pointed triumphantly.

"See? Even the commander agrees."

"He said both of us."

"That part is irrelevant."

John exhaled smoke through his nostrils.

Warm sparks drifted upward.

For a while only the crackle of embers filled the camp.

Then Sylvara spoke softly.

"You’re thinking about the prophecy again."

John glanced at her.

"...Maybe."

Lythriel gave him a look.

"That means yes."

John was silent for a moment.

Then—

"Do you ever wonder how much larger the world is than we imagine?"

That made even Aerion look up.

Lythriel leaned back on one elbow.

"That sounds suspiciously philosophical."

John ignored her.

"We thought Greenwood was dangerous."

He looked toward the mountain shadows.

"Then we found this."

Aerion folded the map.

"Our ancestors once believed the mountains marked the edge of explored lands."

"And now?"

Aerion’s eyes narrowed.

"Now I suspect they were hiding something."

Sylvara stirred the coals thoughtfully.

"The archives mentioned forgotten civilizations."

Lythriel looked between them.

"Can we discuss forgotten civilizations after sleep?"

John snorted.

"You can sleep."

"I would."

She pointed at the darkness.

"If giant murder lizards weren’t stalking the woods."

John grinned.

"That was only one time."

"Three."

"Details."

Sylvara laughed.

It was a quiet sound.

Human.

Warm.

And for a moment...

It felt less like an expedition into unknown danger...

And more like companions beneath the stars.

Eventually Aerion stood.

"We move at dawn."

Lythriel muttered,

"If dawn ever gets here."

---

## Into the Southern Valley

Morning came cloaked in silver mist.

The forest floor shimmered with dew.

Roots twisted through stone as the expedition moved deeper south.

And slowly...

The land changed.

Trees thinned.

Rock rose.

The earth itself became harsher.

Ancient cliffs towered overhead.

Massive mountain peaks loomed beyond, jagged and crowned with cloud.

Even John stopped walking.

His massive form cast a long shadow across the canyon path.

"...Now that..."

He stared upward.

"...is impressive."

Lythriel followed his gaze.

"First time hearing a dragon sound impressed."

John flicked his tail.

"First time seeing mountains this ridiculous."

Sylvara smiled.

"The world continues surprising us."

Aerion’s expression remained thoughtful.

"These peaks are not natural formations alone."

He pointed.

Stone terraces.

Ancient cuts in the mountainside.

Old roads.

Carved.

Artificial.

Lythriel blinked.

"Wait..."

She squinted.

"Is that architecture?"

John narrowed his eyes.

Someone had shaped these mountains.

Long ago.

Then—

The system chimed.

**[Warning.]**

John froze slightly.

*What now?*

**[Multiple hostiles detected.]**

His eyes sharpened.

"I knew it."

Lythriel sighed.

"Of course."

Then—

A growl echoed through the canyon.

Deep.

Ancient.

Predatory.

The ground shook.

Three colossal forms emerged from the rocky shadows.

Mountain Drakes.

Scaled predators the size of siege engines.

And one—

Larger.

Heavier.

Covered in black stone-like armor.

The Alpha.

Tier 9.

Aerion’s grip tightened on his sword.

"Weapons ready!"

The drakes roared.

Lythriel looked at John.

"Well?"

John grinned.

"I’ve killed Tier 8 and Tier 9 monsters before."

Shadow flames flickered in his jaws.

"Might as well do it again."

---

## Battle in Stone

The alpha charged first.

Like a landslide given life.

BOOOOM.

Its steps cracked the canyon floor.

John launched forward.

Their collision sounded like thunder.

CRAAASH.

The impact sent dust and shattered stone in all directions.

Nearby cliffs trembled.

But held.

Tier-appropriate devastation.

Powerful—

not world-breaking.

The alpha’s jaws snapped for John’s throat.

John twisted.

Its fangs scraped scales.

Sparks flew.

John slammed his foreclaws down.

The ground cratered.

The alpha snarled and drove upward with terrifying force.

Lythriel rushed one of the lesser drakes.

Her spear glowed.

"Piercing Fang!"

SLASH.

Steel and mana carved across scales.

Green blood sprayed.

But the drake’s tail whipped around.

BOOM.

It struck her shield.

She was launched through loose stone.

Rock exploded.

Lythriel rose coughing.

"...I hate mountains."

Sylvara called out,

"Left flank!"

Aerion already moved.

Silver mana ignited along his sword.

He blurred forward.

A strike at the drake’s leg joint.

CLANG—

then CRACK.

Armor split.

The beast roared.

John wrestled the alpha backward.

Both slammed into a cliff wall.

Stone collapsed.

The alpha fired molten breath.

A river of fire scorched rock.

John folded a wing over his face.

Then answered—

"Abyssal Breath!"

Dark fire erupted.

The attacks collided.

BOOOOOOM.

Shockwave.

Dust storm.

Loose boulders tumbled from cliffs.

Lythriel whistled mid-battle.

"Show off!"

John roared back,

"Focus!"

She laughed.

Then jumped atop a boulder.

"Sky Piercer!"

Her spear became a streak.

She plunged toward the wounded Tier 8.

THUD.

The strike buried deep.

The drake convulsed—

Then John’s tail smashed it sideways.

CRASH.

Dead.

One down.

The alpha noticed.

Its rage doubled.

It charged.

Fast.

Far too fast for something so massive.

Its claws tore furrows through stone.

John grinned.

"Yes!"

He met it head-on.

Claw against claw.

Shockwaves rolled through the canyon.

The second Tier 8 lunged for Sylvara—

Aerion intercepted.

Steel flashed.

Sylvara cast,

"Binding Roots!"

Roots erupted even through rock cracks, entangling limbs.

Aerion struck the exposed throat.

SLASH.

Blood sprayed.

The drake staggered.

John roared,

"Now!"

Lythriel launched.

Her spear drove into the wound.

Second drake collapsed.

Only the alpha remained.

It bled.

But still stood.

Breathing heavily.

Eyes murderous.

John’s aura began expanding.

Pressure flooded the canyon.

Loose pebbles lifted.

Wind spiraled.

Even the alpha hesitated.

System chimed—

**[Draconic Aura Projection: 70%]**

John smiled.

"Good."

Then moved.

Wing feint.

Tail sweep.

Claw slash.

A sequence faster than before.

The alpha blocked two—

missed the third.

SLASH.

Chest opened.

It roared and tried retreating.

John inhaled.

Abyssal energy condensed—

smaller.

Sharper.

Focused.

"Abyssal Lance."

A black beam shot forward.

Not explosive.

Precise.

It pierced the alpha’s skull.

Silence.

Then the beast collapsed.

Dead.

The canyon grew still.

Dust drifted in sunlight.

Lythriel planted her spear and breathed hard.

"...That..."

She grinned.

"...was fun."

John laughed.

"You have worrying tastes."

Aerion wiped blood from his sword.

"I admit."

He looked at John.

"Your growth is accelerating."

System flashed.

**[Battle Completed]**

Tier 8 Defeated x2

Tier 9 Alpha Defeated x1

EXP +41,000

Progress Toward Tier 10: 67%

Skill Acquired: Abyssal Lance

John blinked.

"Three percent."

Lythriel narrowed her eyes.

"You’re smiling again."

"I am."

"That usually means trouble."

"Usually."

---

## Eyes on the Ridge

Then—

*CLANG.*

Metal.

Everyone froze.

Aerion slowly turned.

"That..."

Another clang.

Then many.

Figures lined the ridge.

Short.

Broad.

Armored.

Axes.

War hammers.

Massive bolt-throwers aimed directly at John.

Lythriel whispered,

"...Who are they?"

Aerion answered softly.

"Dwarves."

The word hung in the air.

The dwarves looked equally stunned.

Especially at John.

Several visibly stepped backward.

One muttered prayers.

Another nearly dropped his axe.

An elder stepped forward.

Huge braided beard.

Rune-covered armor.

Ancient eyes.

He stared at John as if seeing a ghost.

Then whispered in his own tongue.

The others murmured fearfully.

One shouted something sharp.

Weapons lifted tighter.

Lythriel muttered,

"This is going badly."

John lowered his head slightly.

Trying—poorly—to appear less terrifying.

Sylvara whispered,

"Maybe don’t bare your fangs."

"I’m not."

"You are."

John shut his mouth.

The elder finally spoke in broken common.

"...Black Dragon..."

His voice shook.

"State... purpose."

John answered carefully.

"I seek no war."

A tense silence.

The elder stared.

Long.

Then—

"You carry shadow fire."

John said nothing.

The dwarf’s expression changed.

Fear became awe.

"...Ancient blood."

Aerion exchanged a glance with Sylvara.

Lythriel whispered,

"Does he know what you are?"

John whispered back,

"I barely know what I am."

One younger dwarf suddenly shouted angrily in their tongue.

Another answered.

An argument erupted among them.

Half wanted weapons raised.

Half looked ready to kneel.

Lythriel blinked.

"Are they arguing about whether to kill us or worship you?"

John sighed.

"That is not a sentence I expected today."

Unexpectedly—

Sylvara stepped forward.

She raised empty hands.

"We come in peace."

The elder studied her.

Then Aerion.

Then John again.

Finally...

He lowered his axe.

The others hesitated—

then slowly followed.

He pointed toward an enormous hidden gate carved into the mountain.

Massive stone doors.

Covered in ancient runes.

A city entrance.

Hidden for centuries.

The elder spoke.

"...Come."

Lythriel stared.

"...Did we just get invited into a lost dwarven kingdom?"

John smiled slowly.

"Apparently."

Then the elder added—

"...But dragon enters unarmed."

Silence.

Lythriel burst out laughing.

She leaned against John’s leg.

"He thinks you can disarm a dragon."

Even Aerion’s stern face almost cracked.

John rumbled amusement.

"I think I like dwarves already."

The gates began to open.

Ancient stone grinding.

A hidden civilization revealed.

And for the first time in five hundred years—

A dragon would walk among dwarves again.

---

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