The Dragon Emperor of Another World: Awakening of a Legend

“Master, please… open your eyes.”

The urgent whisper sliced through Ethan’s unconsciousness like a dagger. But before he could respond, a thunderous roar shattered the air.

Boom!

He jolted awake—heart racing, lungs burning—just as a blast of flame erupted meters from where he lay. Grass scorched to black beside him, and shards of glowing stone rained from the sky. His vision spun wildly.

What the hell?! This isn’t my dorm…!

Above him, the sky was a vibrant, impossible shade of blue. Clouds drifted lazily, utterly indifferent to the chaos below. A plume of smoke curled from a crumbled marble structure not far away. The smell of burned moss and blood mixed with the sweet scent of wildflowers.

He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Something warm and clawed grabbed his shoulders.

“Master! Ethan—stay down!”

A familiar voice—urgent, melodic, and commanding.

His eyes focused. A woman’s silhouette knelt above him, haloed in sunlight. Curved ebony horns swept back from her brow. Silver-white hair framed a striking face dusted with obsidian scales. Her crimson eyes radiated both worry and restrained power.

“…Celestia?” His voice cracked with dryness and disbelief.

She let out a shaky breath, relief flashing across her face. “You’re awake.” She gave him a shaky, half-chiding smile. “You really know how to make an entrance—collapsing right as that damn artifact blew half the temple sky-high.”

“I… what?” He sat up—too fast.

The world tilted. A sharp jolt of nausea gripped his gut. Celestia’s claw-tipped hand pressed to his chest, steady and cool.

“You passed out the moment you touched the Arcane Godslayer,” she said, eyes scanning him. “Then that guardian exploded. I dragged you out before the collapse.”

He coughed, the taste of smoke still clinging to his tongue. “So… not a dream.”

Celestia arched an elegant brow. “No headset, no controller, and unless your dorm has started spontaneously combusting, I’d say welcome to the real Astrael.”

His stomach flipped—not from dizziness this time, but realization.

This was real. The Temple of Ascension, the Godslayer gear, Celestia… all real.

Memories flooded back—standing atop the altar in-game, claiming the ultimate reward after a grueling three-day run. There’d been a blinding flash—and now he was here.

Trapped? No. Transformed.

He looked down. Midnight-blue armor encased his body, etched with glowing runes that pulsed softly, as if syncing to his heartbeat. The longsword strapped across his back shimmered with latent power. He flexed his fingers—the gauntlet groaned under pressure. This body wasn’t digital. It was his.

“But… why here? Why me?” he muttered.

Celestia glanced toward the still-smoking ruins. “The Arcane Godslayer didn’t just grant power. It tore something open. A veil. You didn’t log in—you were summoned.”

Ethan sat in stunned silence. Then, from the distance—a howl.

Celestia’s eyes narrowed instantly. “Scavenger wargs,” she said, rising to her feet and offering him her hand. “They’ve caught the scent of blood. We don’t have much time.”

Still dazed, Ethan grabbed her hand and pulled himself up. His knees nearly buckled, but Celestia steadied him. Her grip was firm, reassuring. Familiar.

A second howl echoed, closer now.

“Can you walk?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, though it wasn’t quite true. His muscles ached like he’d been slammed into the earth by a god. Maybe he had.

She tossed him a waterskin. “Drink. Fast.”

The water was shockingly cold and pure, a blessing against his parched throat. He didn’t stop until Celestia yanked it back. “No time for a feast, my lord. Move!”

They sprinted across the clearing just as three hulking beasts burst from the treeline, snarling and snapping. Ethan’s instincts screamed at him to run—but another part of him stirred. Something deeper.

The Godslayer within him awoke.

He yanked the longsword free, metal singing as it slid from its sheath. Though he barely had time to grip the hilt, the blade moved like it already knew his hand. It cut a wide arc through the air—too fast for a beginner.

The wargs halted, snarling warily.

Celestia’s wings flicked open. “If they lunge, we strike together.”

“Wait—I’ve never actually fought for real—”

Too late. The first warg leapt.

Ethan swung.

Steel met flesh. A spray of dark blood splattered the grass. The beast yelped, crashed into a tree, and didn’t rise again.

Celestia dove into the remaining two, a whirlwind of claws and magic. Ethan caught a glimpse of blue flame and a snapping tail, then silence.

They stood panting amid the carnage.

“I… I just killed something,” Ethan said, wide-eyed.

Celestia turned, her face unreadable. “And you lived.” Then, softer: “This world isn’t a game anymore, Ethan. Every breath is earned here.”

He stared down at the blade, now warm in his hand. His mind was reeling, but one truth anchored him—he wasn’t dead. He’d survived.

Celestia approached slowly, eyes searching his face. “We should find shelter. There’s a town not far—a place to rest, to plan.”

Ethan nodded, still trembling.

As they turned toward the winding road, Celestia added, “And perhaps next time, my master might ask before touching ancient god-killing relics?”

Ethan let out a hoarse laugh. “I’ll put it on my to-do list.”

She smiled. “Good. You’ll need it.”

Together, they disappeared into the forest shadows—the echoes of the temple’s explosion still rumbling in the distance.

But far beneath the shattered ruins of the Temple of Ascension, in the belly of the earth where sunlight had never reached, something stirred.

A great black seal, long buried under layers of warding magic, pulsed faintly—then cracked.

From the darkness beyond, a pair of burning violet eyes slowly opened, glowing with ancient, malevolent amusement.

A low voice echoed in the void, serpentine and smooth like velvet over a blade.

“So… our little Dragon Emperor has finally arrived.”

A ghostly grin stretched across unseen lips, jagged and mocking.