Reborn as a Devouring Dragon with a System-Chapter 75: Dragon Ruins: Entering the Ruins (5)

In an unknown forest, where Death Aura drifted like the wind—ever-present and heavy—a sad, solemn, and mournful essence clung to the air, as if some unspeakable tragedy had taken place.

The forest teemed with shattered trees, yet new growth had already sprouted from the remnants. The dead wood now served as silent nutrients. At every turn, beasts roamed—yet these were no ordinary creatures. Each one bore Draconic features that hinted at ancient power.

This land stretched vast in both length and width, comparable to entire regions of the Origin Continent. Truly, it felt like a world of its own.

Then, without warning, the lone sun hanging overhead blazed brighter—shining with an intense, divine splendour—as new visitors descended into this place. They numbered more than a hundred, scattered across the forest.

This... was the Dragon Ruins.

After Drakion’s sharp declaration, the Emperor-level figures could bear it no longer. Their pride shattered, they attacked, furious that Drakion had toyed with them beyond forgiveness.

But before Quin, they were like scolded children—slapped down, faces lost, pride shattered. The others, witnessing this, dared not lift a finger against Drakion again. Quin’s presence silenced them.

Drakion found satisfaction in this. Their arrogance, their disdain for the weak—this was what he despised. And this was his answer.

Just as he had said—there was nothing they could offer him. Protection? Cultivation resources? Drakion wanted no part in any alliance. It was far better this way, for once word spread that they were Dragons, no one could be trusted—not even those who smiled.

Without hesitation, Drakion stepped forward and placed the Dragon Scale near the cave. It burst forth with radiant energy, the cave gleaming with glorious golden splendour. Then, a vortex formed, marking the entrance to the Dragon Ruins.

And then came the revelation that shocked many—and delighted others. Drakion included.

Origin Saint Realm and Emperor Realm Cultivators were barred from entering. A restriction imposed by the ruins themselves. Should they attempt to force their way in, the entire ruin would self-detonate. It was an absolute law.

This reassured Drakion. The Vorr members were safe—at least from those monsters in human form.

He watched as others began to enter, one by one. Then he too stepped forward, recalling Quinn into his card, and passed through the swirling vortex into the Dragon Ruins.

And there he stood—Drakion—alone, in a mysterious forest where the scent of countless ancient battles hung thick in the air. Yet what struck him was the silence... and the fact that none of his companions were with him.

His chest tightened, especially as he thought of the bunny children. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

"Can anyone hear me?" Drakion spoke through the Vorr Clan’s telepathic link—but it only spanned a thousand and five hundred meters. Too limited.

After repeated attempts, he gave up. All he could do now was hope.

Then, as he took a single step forward—he froze. A slow, amused smile curved his lips.

"You can all come out now."

In the next breath, figures emerged—humans, beasts, blood race—all from the outside world. They closed in from every direction.

Unbeknownst to Drakion, the Emperors he had humiliated had already given secret orders to their people: eliminate Drakion and his group at all costs.

"You shouldn’t have gone against the Emperors," one of them growled.

"Even if it were a god, I’d go against a god," Drakion snorted, unbothered.

"Still arrogant... even at the point of death," the figure sneered.

"Who told you," Drakion said, smiling coldly, "that I am at the point of death?"

The crowd responded with scorn and disdain as they charged at him, blades drawn, killing intent thick in the air.

"Devouring Art: Devourer Void Step"

Drakion vanished from their midst, reappearing high in the sky, the Death Reaper Double Scythe gripped tightly in his hands. Without pause, he activated his combat art:

"Butcher of Battle: Let the Slaughter Begin."

He disappeared again—and in an instant, a head spun into the air, severed cleanly, sending a chill through the crowd. They now understood the gravity of who they faced: this was a man who had defended against an Emperor’s strike.

[You have killed a Late Stage Origin Realm Cultivator. You have gained 20 EXP and 5 DP] x15

Drakion moved like a phantom, phasing through their ranks with Phantom Step, his presence cloaked in shadow. He became the embodiment of death—grim and unrelenting.

[You have killed a Late Stage Origin Warrior Realm Cultivator. You have gained 20 EXP and 5 DP] x15

[You have killed a Mid Stage Origin Warrior Realm Cultivator. You have gained 20 EXP and 5 DP] x15

[You have killed an Early Stage Origin Warrior Realm Cultivator. No EXP gained.]

His body radiated a suffocating aura of death, choking the battlefield. The terror spread rapidly; they had arrived united, but now they scattered like broken leaves in a storm, fleeing for their lives.

It was now that the prey became even easier for the hunter to pursue.

Drakion drifted among them like a shadow of doom, cleaving heads with each motion. Then, he came upon a group—Blood Clan members.

"Spare me, please! Or else you’ll provoke the wrath of our Emperor!" one of them stammered, trembling.

"Oh? Are you threatening me? What’s your name?"

"Blot," the man replied.

"Blot, you’re so dumb," Drakion laughed coldly. The man’s face twisted in a mix of anger and confusion.

"Where are we?" Drakion asked casually.

Blot hesitated, confused and rattled.

"Answer the damn question!" Drakion roared, swinging the scythes in warning.

"In the Dragon Ruins!" Blot blurted out in terror.

"And where is your Emperor?" Drakion pressed.

"Outside the Ruins," Blot answered quickly.

"You see why I said you’re dumb? Your Emperor is outside. So how the hell would he even know I was the one who killed you?" Drakion laughed darkly.

Only then did Blot realize the fatal error in his words.

"Please... don’t kill me..."

"Don’t worry. I’ll make you special," Drakion said with a smile.

Blot felt a flicker of relief—it seemed he might survive. But deep inside, he vowed to gather others and ambush Drakion later.

"You know this skill, right?" Drakion said, as he activated Blood Thorn, drawing from the blood of those he had slain.

"Impossible! How can you use our skill?!" Blot shouted in disbelief. "Wait! What are you doing?!" he cried out, his voice rising in panic as the crimson thorns slowly aimed toward him.

"You said I’m special—"

"Yes, you are," Drakion cut in with a chilling grin. "I’m giving you a special death... by killing you with your own clan’s technique."

With a flick of his hand, the thorns surged forward, piercing Blot’s body.

Then, Drakion appeared beside him, eyes cold as winter. Without hesitation, he thrust into Blot’s chest and tore out his still-beating heart. Blot’s eyes widened, pleading silently for mercy.

Drakion crushed the heart in his hand.

"Remember in your next life—be wise."

And with that, Drakion moved on, his slaughter continuing like a plague upon the battlefield.