Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 192: Arriving Divine

"Why didn’t you visit sooner?"

The voice emerged from the shadows of the ancient lair like warmth breaking through winter clouds. An old man stepped forward. He was silver-haired, his face a map of centuries etched into kindly lines, his smile spreading like sunrise over a frozen peak.

Elder Dragon Baswara moved with the grace of great age and greater power, and when he reached Oathran, he embraced him.

His arms wrapped around the Dragon Lord with the strength of a grandfather who had spent seventeen years not knowing if his child still drew breath.

His weathered hands gripped the white robes, and when he spoke, his voice cracked with a joy too vast to contain.

"You’re alive... Your Majesty."

Oathran stood still for a heartbeat. Then his own arms rose, and he held the old man back. His chin dropped to rest on Baswara’s shoulder, and for that single, suspended second, he was not the sovereign of gods or the bearer of worlds. He was simply a child, home at last.

"It’s okay," Baswara’s voice dropped to a whisper, a frequency meant only for Oathran’s middle ears, a private channel, shielded from the three dragons kneeling in reverent silence behind them.

"There are reasons why your ancestors couldn’t close the doors simultaneously. Don’t be disheartened, my child." The old man’s voice trembled. The overwhelming, shaking happiness of reunion almost drowned him. "Not to mention... the difficulty will increase each hundred years."

Oathran felt the old dragon’s pulse, rapid with emotion, against his chest. He understood, then. Baswara thought he had failed. Thought he had returned broken not by defeat.

"Just because I’m alive, you thought I failed?" Oathran asked, his own voice dropping to that same private frequency.

Baswara froze.

The embrace held, but the old man’s body went rigid, disbelieved. Slowly, so slowly, he pulled back. His weathered hands rose to grasp Oathran’s shoulders, gripping them with a strength that belied his apparent frailty.

His eyes searched the Dragon Lord’s face for any trace of deception.

"You—?!"

"I managed to close both doors at the same time." Oathran’s whisper was steady, calm. "All I need to do is to die now for it to be permanently closed forever."

Baswara’s breath stopped.

He stared at Oathran. At the unmarked skin, the steady stance, the eyes that held no wound, no exhaustion, no trace of the apocalyptic battle that should have left him shattered.

He knew Oathran was the strongest Dragon Lord who had ever lived. He had watched him grow, trained him, loved him. He had believed, perhaps, that Oathran might one day rival the Founder Lord Isaiah himself.

But this?!

"You returned without a scratch," Baswara breathed, incredulity bleeding through the private channel. "How?! Even if it’s you—?!"

"There’s... a second problem," Oathran said gently. His hand rose, grasping the old dragon’s wrist. "And good news, dear Elder."

Baswara looked up at him past the sovereign and the savior, to the child he had raised, the boy who had left on a suicide mission seventeen years ago and returned a man with something new in his eyes. Something that had not been there before.

"When I was dying," Oathran continued, his voice softening, "the divine came to me. In the form of a woman." A pause. A breath. "Saintess Cecilia Araceli bonded with me. Accidentally. She saved me from my terminal wound, and now..."

He trailed off. The smile that spread across his face was helpless, heartbreaking, and radiant all at once. The sadness in it was immeasurable, the grief of a man who had spent his entire existence preparing to die alone, now facing the impossible terror of wanting to live.

But beneath that sorrow, something else burned. Something fierce. Something that looked... like a final wish.

This man... still planned to die. But not before he completed his true final oath.

"Please come to my wedding, dear Elder." His voice cracked, just slightly. "To my new brothers’, and my love’s wedding."

...?

Baswara’s eyes widened. His mouth opened, then closed. For the first time in centuries, the Elder Dragon, the repository of more knowledge and experience than most civilizations could dream of, found himself completely speechless.

Oathran watched the shock bloom across that beloved, weathered face.

Wearily, yet lovingly, he sighed.

"I will explain everything. From the start."

***

Rinne felt like this was the happiest day of his life.

Even if perhaps he had experienced happier days before, like when he found his Lord Father alive and well despite the death prophecy that had chilled his young heart to the bone, he had never vibrated with this much happiness. Never felt his entire being thrum with such joy.

Lord Father was going to announce his wedding!

The boy’s tail was a traitor to any attempt at dignity. It wagged behind him like an overexcited flag, a blur of fur that seemed to have developed a mind of its own.

His ears, usually so composed, so careful in their observation, trembled with barely contained glee. He darted through the corridors of the capital mansion, a small shadow of enthusiasm, following the adults as they bustled about their preparations.

Whenever someone paused, carrying linens, adjusting decorations, consulting guest lists, Rinne was there, eager hands outstretched, ready to help.

Finally. Finally, officially, he would have a mother.

How cool was that?

Not just a mother, either. A mother. The woman who had looked at him with those calm eyes and saw him, not an adopted prince, not a tool, not a potential threat or asset.

And as a bonus, he had also acquired a God Father and an Uncle Dad!

"Huuuuuuuh?" Rinne’s ears flattened against his skull, the physical manifestation of plummeting joy. His tail, which had been wagging moments ago, drooped like a wilted flower.

He stared up at the lion, at this magnificent, terrifying, strangely wonderful creature who had somehow become family. His disappointment was immeasurable, and his day was slightly ruined.

"You’re not going to be celebrating with us?"

Eastiel narrowed his eyes at Rinne who acted like he had personally reached into the boy’s chest and stolen the moon. He sighed. "I have other missions, okay?"

"But Uncle Dad..." Rinne’s voice was small, plaintive. The word ’Dad’ stretched into a whine.

"Don’t call me that, you brat!"

"Aaaaaaahhhh, why are you leaving, don’t leeeeeeave—aaahhh!"

Even as Eastiel’s hands descended on the boy’s head, two firm palms clamping down and ruffling viciously, Rinne refused to let go. His smaller fingers clutched at the lion’s robe with desperate strength, attaching himself to this chaotic, wonderful man who was trying to escape.

Eastiel was the same age as Arzhen.

The thought surfaced through the chaos of Rinne’s pleading. The same generation, by beast standards, close enough in age to be brothers, cousins, contemporaries.

But where Arzhen had become a distant, despised relation, a name spoken with contempt and disgust, Eastiel was this. Warm hands on his head. Annoyance that couldn’t quite hide affection. A presence that felt less like a distant sovereign and more like...

Like an elder brother.

A good one.

Not like that murderous, traitorous bastard.

Eastiel’s ruffling slowed, then stopped. His hands remained on Rinne’s head, but gently now. He sighed again, but this time the sound was softer, resigned in a way that held no frustration.

"It will be a surprise, alright?" he said. His fingers moved, slowly and carefully tidying the chaos he had created, smoothing the boy’s hair back into something resembling order. "Cecilia will be marrying all three of us. But before that, she needs to make sure everything’s perfect. We can’t reveal our alliance to our enemies yet."

Rinne blinked up at him. The words settled into his mind, finding their place among the other secrets he carried. His ears, still slightly flattened, perked with understanding, and with a new, different kind of sorrow.

Was it because their marriage was different from normal marriages...? It must’ve been... hard. They needed to be very brave.

"That’s why God Father is away too?"

.

.

.

.

.

-------------------

Rate/Review count:

9

If you see the rate and review section, you might only find 10 rates and reviews, but actually, there had been 11 already. One is the amazing deep dive review by DrippingVoid that I very much love with my soul. I am so happy to receive it and I will never drop the book especially for you now. And the other one...

So... someone put a fun and passionate review last night and I managed to screenshot it (even replied). But when I woke up, I saw that it’s gone 😭

Now, why did I screenshot it? Because it’s such a colorful(?), witty and cute/rude/tsundere one, I kinda wanted to frame it. YorozuyaDanna, idk what happened to your review, but perhaps the app’s moderators took it down because of how extreme and crass it might seem. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

I am sooooo sorry. But don’t worry, even though you’re gone, you’ll not be forgotten, soldier. This screenshot will live forever and will not be thrown into the void with the backroom monsters. Here’s the review attached in the paragraph comment, if you want to see---------->

Man... you guys are the coolest readers ever. Don’t worry, even though it was taken down, I’ll still count it!

1 more Rate/Reviews and we’ll have our mass release!!!

🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉