69: Chapter 67 Waiting for Four Hundred Years

The interior of the mine had been excavated by the people of Old Valyria to be incredibly spacious, enough to accommodate three adult dragons walking side by side.

The ground was polished obsidian; not having been walked upon for hundreds of years, it was covered in a layer of fine dust. The walls of the cave were embedded with unmined raw dragon glass, emitting a dim, blue-green glow in the darkness. The deeper one went, the brighter the glow became.

The air was filled with the distinct scent of dragon glass—not fragrant, not foul, but electric. It was like the sensation of static electricity in the air before a thunderstorm, right before it is about to be pierced by lightning.

The core of the vein was a giant dragon glass pillar several meters in diameter.

It extended from the ceiling of the cave deep into the ground, its bottom unseen. Inside the pillar pulsed a dim light like a heartbeat. One. Two. Three. The rhythm was very slow, but every beat caused the entire pillar to glow slightly, radiating a halo of light from within.

The halo crawled up the surface of the pillar and dissipated into the rune grooves.

The surface of the pillar was carved with runes of Old Valyria.

Many were already damaged—their edges worn away by time, or cracked by the growth of the vein itself. Yet, some were still flickering faintly, synchronized with the heartbeat inside the pillar.

Drogon stopped in front of the dragon glass pillar. His vertical pupils reflected the pulsing dim light from within the pillar. It wasn't a reflection. The light was coming out of the pillar, hitting his pupils directly. The wisp of blue Ice Fire in the center of his pupils was illuminated. This pillar was not a dead object. It was alive. It had been beating for hundreds of years.

The system window popped up.

"Detected Old Valyria seal runes. Rune type: Energy Binding Array. Function: Prevents the vein's energy from leaking and locks the vein's core in place. Deciphering the runes will grant access to the Old Valyria relic sealed within.

Deciphering difficulty: Requires Advanced Reading proficiency in Old Valyria and an Elemental attribute greater than or equal to 200. Host's current Comprehension is 20, Elemental is 352; conditions for deciphering are met. Do you wish to decipher?"

"Decipher. What is the difference between not taking a relic and missing out on gold coins?"

He pressed his dragon claw onto the rune core.

The scales of his dragon claw fit into the grooves of the runes; the grooves were deeper than he had expected. He injected a wisp of Ice Fire. The blue flame spread along the rune grooves—not poured in, but flowed in, like water filling a dried-up riverbed.

The dual stimulation of ice and fire caused the runes to flicker violently a few times. Blue light and white light alternated.

Then the runes began to peel off. It wasn't shattering; they were falling off the surface of the pillar layer by layer, curling up like tree bark, then falling to the ground and turning into fine dust.

A gap split open in the center of the dragon glass pillar. It wasn't an explosion. It split precisely along the trajectory of the runes. The cross-sections on both sides of the fissure were as smooth as mirrors.

Inside the gap, a small stone chamber was revealed. The area was only large enough to hold a dragon skeleton and a stone pedestal. On the stone pedestal lay a scroll of parchment.

A secret chamber sealed by an Old Valyria Dragonlord before the Doom.

There were two items inside the stone chamber.

The first was a complete dragon skeleton. It was not the skeleton of an ordinary dragon—ordinary dragon skeletons were grayish-white, like stone.

This dragon skeleton was entirely dark gold, very similar to the color of Drogon's scales after his bloodline breakthrough. Every rib was intact, and carved onto the ribs were extremely fine lines—not runes, but growth marks left in the bones by the bloodline during its lifetime.

The dragon wing bones were folded at its sides, the phalanges of the wing fingers distinct. The dragon head was slightly lowered, the lower jaw resting on its chest—not in prayer, but waiting.

Waiting for four hundred years. Embedded in the chest cavity of the dragon skeleton was a dragon glass core that had lost its luster, about the size of an adult's fist. The surface of the core was covered in cracks, with no light within them.

The second item was a roll of parchment sealed in a dragon glass cylinder.

The opening of the cylinder was sealed with wax, and on the wax was stamped the dragon crest of Old Valyria. It was already cracked—centuries of thermal expansion and contraction had carved web-like cracks into the wax surface.

But the dragon crest was still intact. Three dragons intertwined, identical to the pattern on the relief at the entrance of the mine.

Drogon extended his dragon claw. The tip of his claw very gently punctured the wax seal. The wax flakes fell onto the stone pedestal, shattering into three pieces. He unfolded the parchment. Old Valyria script. Dense and packed. Every character was written in dragon blood ink—the ink was dark red, shimmering with a faint metallic luster in the dim light. It hadn't faded even after four hundred years.

"System. Translate."

The system was silent for two seconds. It was a rare instance of not responding immediately. During those two seconds, the dragon glass pillar of the vein pulsed once behind him.

"Translating Old Valyria script. Parchment title: 'Tracking Records of the Ancestor of All Dragons Bloodline'.

Author signature: Orys Targaryen—the first Dragonlord to conquer Westeros, grandfather of Aegon the Conqueror.

Summary: Before the Doom of Valyria, Orys Targaryen captured a faint signal of the 'Ancestor of All Dragons' bloodline reappearing in the distant future through draconic divination. He locked the source of the signal onto a 'bloodline that does not belong to the Valyrian dragons but is far older than the Valyrian dragons.' He spent his life tracking this signal, and finally completed his last divination in the depths of the Dragonstone mine. He wrote at the end of the scroll—"

Drogon's vertical pupils stared at the final paragraph. The system translated it word for word. Every word felt like it had been thrown from four hundred years ago.

"If a dragon in the future deciphers my seal in this mine, then you are the dragon I saw in my divination.

You are not a Targaryen dragon. You are a descendant of the Ancestor Dragon. I cannot live to see you, but I leave my dragon skeleton to you. The bloodline power within my core will be awakened when you touch it.

May the light of the Ancestor Dragon protect you. May you be stronger than me when the judgment comes. May you protect those I failed to protect."

Drogon was silent.

He looked down at the dark gold dragon skeleton.

Although the dragon glass core in the skeleton's chest cavity had lost its luster, its shape and size matched the position of his own reverse scale almost perfectly.

This dragon, in its lifetime, had also embedded the same core at the position of its reverse scale. It was not a coincidence. It was a trait of the same bloodline.

He was waiting—waiting for four hundred years. He knew the Doom was coming before it happened, knew he couldn't escape, yet he didn't run.

He placed his dragon skeleton in this secret chamber, sealed his last words in the dragon glass cylinder, and then crouched in the darkness, waiting for a dragon born four hundred years later to knock on his door.

"He waited for me—four hundred years."

"Yes. Orys Targaryen divined the Host's existence before the Doom. He left the dragon skeleton and the scroll, hoping the Host could absorb his dragon glass core to continue enhancing your bloodline.

At the same time—judging from the wording at the end of the scroll, he also hoped the Host would succeed where he failed. He mentioned 'judgment.' It could be the judgment of the Dragon Senate, or it could be something else."

Drogon extended his dragon claw. He touched the top of the dragon skeleton's skull extremely lightly. There was only a layer of air between the scales of his dragon claw and the skull of the dragon skeleton. The movement didn't feel like worship. It felt more like taking on a certain responsibility. Taking on the responsibility of an old dragon who knew he would come four hundred years ago, and had waited for him in the darkness for four hundred years.

"Absorb."

He pressed his dragon claw onto the dragon glass core in the skeleton's chest cavity.

The core had been lusterless for hundreds of years. The cracks on its surface were filled with four hundred years of volcanic ash.

But the moment it made contact with Drogon's bloodline, the inside of the core suddenly erupted with a blinding, dark golden light—not ignited, but awakened. The bloodline power sealed within the crystal structure four hundred years ago broke out of its shell.

Those cracks on the surface of the core shone simultaneously, and the dark golden light burst out from the fissures, brighter than the noon sun.

The residual bloodline power of Orys Targaryen in the core, like a lit powder keg, surged into his body along Drogon's dragon claw. It wasn't pouring. It was rushing.

It was four hundred years of waiting being released all at once in this instant.

The dark golden light enveloped his entire dragon body.

Every piece of raw dragon glass in the mine was resonating—not being illuminated, but being awakened.

The entire vein was responding to the awakening of this bloodline. Those dragon glass fragments embedded in the cave walls and buried deep within emitted a faint glow simultaneously, flickering in sync with the heartbeat inside the pillar.

His dragon scales stood up one by one. Starting from the tip of his tail, the scales stood up in sequence like a wheat field blown by the wind, being tempered anew in the light.

Every scale was becoming thicker and sharper. The edges changed from their original blunt arc shapes to sharper, serrated forms. The ice-blue patterns on the edges of the scales expanded outward under the impact of the dark golden light, penetrating inward from the edges, and finally merging with the dark gold—every scale was now black with gold patterns, the edges of the gold patterns inlaid with a ring of extremely fine ice-blue halos.

His wingspan slowly stretched in the light. The wing bones elongated joint by joint, and the membrane between the joints re-wove itself in the golden light. Thirty meters. Thirty-two meters. Thirty-four meters.

The forks of his dragon horns split from three into four. The fourth fork broke out from the base of the third fork, curving into a forward-tilting arc. The ice spike on his tail became longer and sharper, its tip shimmering with a dim blue cold light—not reflected light, but light of its own.

He opened his dragon maw, not to breathe fire. But the airflow escaping from his throat condensed into tiny ice crystals in the air of the mine. They fell to the ground in a flurry, covering the obsidian floor in a thin layer of frost.

"Absorbed the dragon glass core of Old Valyria Dragonlord Orys Targaryen. Bloodline +350. Current Bloodline: 1250 → 1600. Passive skill 'Dragon Scale Armor · Enhancement' unlocked: Dragon scales' resistance to magic attacks increased by 50%.

Passive skill 'Dragon Heritage Perception' unlocked: Can sense the location of Old Valyria dragon relics within a certain range. Title upgraded: 'Ancestor of All Dragons (Pseudo)' → 'Ancestor of All Dragons (Legacy)'—due to gaining the recognition and inheritance of the first Conqueror Dragonlord. New title comes with a passive: Natural intimidation bonus +15% against creatures with Old Valyria dragon bloodlines."

The light slowly dissipated. The resonance of the vein also gradually subsided. The strong dark golden light converged into stable patterns on his scales. Drogon was revealed again in the dim light of the vein. He lowered his head to look at his dragon claws.

The dark golden patterns on his scales were denser than before. It wasn't a sheen floating on the surface, but patterns carved into the interior of the scales. The direction of every pattern was synchronized with the energy surging in his bloodline.

"Orys Targaryen. Although I have never known you—I accept your dragon skeleton. Westeros, I will win it back for your grandson. As for that 'judgment' you mentioned—I will face it for you."

His voice echoed in the mine. The dragon glass pillar of the vein pulsed once behind him. The heartbeat frequency inside the pillar slowed by a beat, as if making some kind of ancient response.

Drogon closed his eyes. Dragon Heritage Perception unfolded in his consciousness space.

The continent of Westeros in his perception was a map composed of fire and shadows. Mountains. Rivers. Coastlines. Castles. Every place was blurry, but a few points of light were flickering clearly.

They were not the light of dragon glass veins—dragon glass veins were diffuse, like mist. These points of light were concentrated, nailed to specific locations on the map like nails. Every point emitted the aura of a dragon bloodline of the same origin as his. Old Valyria relics. Sealed for hundreds of years, waiting for him.

The first was in King's Landing. Under the Red Keep. The point of light was dark gold, the same color as his scales. Its brightness was the highest, indicating the seal was the most complete and the relic was the best preserved.

The second was also in King's Landing. The ruins of the Great Sept of Baelor. The point of light was weaker than the one at the Red Keep, but older.

The third was at Casterly Rock. Deep in the treasury of Tywin Lannister. The point of light was covered by a thin layer of gray mist—indicating the relic was buried under a large amount of clutter, or sealed inside a stone wall.

The fourth was at Storms End. In the hands of Stannis or his treasury—the signal was moving slowly, indicating the object was being carried by someone.

The fifth was in Oldtown. The secret cellar of The Citadel. The signal was the most stable, flashing only once every few seconds.

The sixth was at the Isle of Faces. Off the coast of Westeros. The signal was the weakest, but the frequency was the most stable—flashing exactly once every second. Like a heartbeat.

"Six relics. Two in King's Landing. One in Casterly Rock. One in Storms End. One in Oldtown. One off the coast. Orys's last words said I am a descendant of the Ancestor Dragon.

These relics—each one might have a similar wait. Each one might seal the last words and dragon skeleton of an old Dragonlord."

"Yes. Old Valyria Dragonlords generally conducted divination before the Doom. It is highly likely that more fragments of prophecies regarding the Ancestor of All Dragons are sealed within the relics they left behind.

It is recommended that the Host prioritize recovery based on distance: first fully absorb the local Dragonstone mine, then King's Landing, then Storms End, then the others. The two in King's Landing can be obtained simultaneously when taking King's Landing. The relic in Storms End can be recovered after further contact with Stannis. The relic in The Citadel will require a contest of wits with Archmaester Marwyn."