Talent Awakening: Draconic Overlord Of The Apocalypse

Chapter 483: • That Human Again Part Two

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “A piece of the Dragon God’s sword. What was it called again… ah. Restria.”

The moment the name left his lips, silence fell.

Alister’s pupils constricted. “How do you know that name?”

“I told you,” Quinton said calmly. “I’ve lived through this once already. I hold memories from a future that no longer exists. I’m not here to waste your time, Dragon Lord. I’m here to rewrite fate—and to do that, I need your help.”

Alister’s eyes stayed locked on Quinton, cold.

‘If he was going to be of help to me then why…’

‘…why did my future self never mention him? Is this Celestial who helped him uses something else and not time? Or maybe.’

Alister’s thoughts slowed a bit as he began to consider a rather… Outlandish theory.

‘His soul was probably sent to this one from a univers where time was ahead of this one.’

There was no record. Not even a clue. Could he really be some kind of dimensional anomaly?

He sighed. “Let’s say I believe you. If this is a ruined temple of a dead god… why would I, the Lord of Dragons, need you to help me raid it?”

Quinton smirked, clasping his hands behind his back. “Because, as strong as you are, if you think you can just walk into that place and handle the remnants of divine will still lingering inside, then you’re being just a bit too optimistic.”

One of the dragon knights stepped forward, glaring. “Are you insulting our lord?”

Quinton glanced at the knight, then back at Alister, unfazed. “No I wouldn’t dare. I’m reminding him that there’s a difference between strength and preparation. He might crush nations… but this temple is no nation. It’s a tomb soaked in divine madness. You’ll need more than just dragons.”

Alister looked at him, long and quiet.

Then, after a beat, he spoke with a sharp edge of interest. “…Tell me more about this relic.”

Quinton’s grin grew wider. “It houses a magic lost to time—Re-Evolution Magic. It’s something ancient… primal. Not like the system we have today. It doesn’t just enhance what you are—it lets you shed your current path and evolve again… as many times as you’re strong enough to survive.”

Alister’s brow furrowed. “You’re saying such a relic exists on this world? A world that was once only inhabited by humans? And hasn’t been discovered in all there years of being here?”

Quinton’s blue eyes shimmered, gears slowly rotating like clockwork beneath the irises. “I may be ignorant so, do you care to enlighten me on what dragons are doing so far away from their home world?” he asked, smiling faintly. “It’s all the same, dragon lord. Dimensional displacement… overlapping timelines, fractured realms.”

He turned away, gaze drifting to the horizon.

“But the ruin? The temple that holds that relic? It’s not here. Not yet.”

Alister’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

Quinton pointed to the sky, then let his hand fall toward the ground as if peeling back a veil. “I’m sure you’ve felt it—if not consciously, then instinctively. The barrier that once protected this world? It’s crumbling. Slowly. Quietly. And when it finally collapses…” He paused, his voice lowering. “Multiple worlds—worlds with ancient magic, gods, monsters, and worse—will collide with ours. But untill it finally does ruins are first going to start popping all over the place, the land mass slowly increasing and some people manifesting blessing or being branded with house names.”

Alister’s gaze darkened. “You’re saying this ruin… will appear when the convergence begins.”

“Exactly.” Quinton nodded. “And when it does, we’ll only have a short window to retrieve that relic before others—much less friendly types—claim it. If they get their hands on Re-Evolution Magic…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

Alister’s eyes glinted with thought. “And what do you want from it?”

Quinton met his gaze, serious for once. “I don’t want much, honestly. I just want to survive the storm. And maybe… pay back a few favors I owe. That’s all.”

For a moment, Alister said nothing. He studied Quinton, and within them he saw something: resolve. Honesty, even.

A rare smile touched the Dragon Lord’s lips. “Then I suppose you’re welcome to stay. At least… until this ‘convergence’ you speak of takes place.”

Quinton’s smirk returned. “Trust me, you won’t regret it.”

“I already do,” Alister muttered, brow furrowed as his eyes scanned the clearing. “I noticed something odd,” he said. “There are only two people here—none of them human. So where are the ones you wanted me to protect, Quinton?”

Quinton’s grin returned, wide and mischievous. He casually raised a hand and pointed toward the sky. “Well… they’re waiting up there.”

Alister’s gaze followed his finger, at first seeing nothing but the fading orange hues of dusk streaked across the sky.

Then—

A shimmer.

A distortion, like heat rippling across stone.

Then the air peeled back, revealing a behemoth of metal and energy hanging silently above them.

Alister’s eyes widened, pupils narrowing to slits as the cloaking veil dropped fully. The aircraft was colossal—sleek and angular with obsidian-black plating trimmed in glowing blue lines, pulsing softly like the breath of a living thing. Ethereal dragon motifs ran along its sides, and its surface shimmered like it was part machine, part magic.

Its presence was silent, oppressive. Ancient.

“A sky fortress…” Alister muttered.

“Nope,” Quinton said with a smirk. “The sky fortress. Her name is Ecliptica. Built with lost technology and my own little upgrades. She’s been shielding them from detection this whole time—had to be careful, y’know? You wouldn’t believe how many eyes are watching this world from beyond.”

A low hum pulsed through the clearing as the ship slowly descended, not to land, but just enough to become clearly visible.

Alister took a step forward, awe briefly replacing suspicion. “That… wasn’t built by this era’s hands.”

Quinton shrugged, but didn’t deny it. “Like I said, I remember things from a future that hasn’t happened yet. That beauty? She’s a remnant of a failed timeline—one where we lost. I stole her from the brink of collapse and brought her here before the convergence could erase her entirely.”

Alister’s expression hardened again. “And inside?”

Quinton clasped his hands behind his back. “The ones you’re supposed to protect. About forty-five in total—only five are combatants. The rest are engineers, knowledge-keepers, and… well, you’ll see. They’re the best we could save from that timeline.”

Alister studied the ship, then looked back at Quinton.

“You’ve been busy.”

Quinton’s grin faded slightly into something more solemn. “We had to be.”

There was a moment of silence between them, broken only by the soft, mechanical pulse of the hovering vessel above. Finally, Alister gave a slight nod.

“I’ll welcome them. But if I sense anything dangerous aboard that ship—”

“You’ll burn it to ashes. I know,” Quinton said, raising his hands. “Trust me, Dragon Lord, if even one of them posed a threat… I would’ve dealt with it myself.” He looked up at the ship, eyes distant.

Alister said nothing, but the flare in his eyes softened. He looked back up at Ecliptica, the sky fortress hovering like a blade above the clouds, and for the first time in a long while… felt something stir.

But in the depths of his heart, he wondered—not just about the relic, or the ruins, but about why his future self had never mentioned Quinton.

….

….

The Union detainment facility in Megacity I was a cold, sterile labyrinth buried beneath the city’s gleaming surface, its walls of reinforced durasteel etched with faintly glowing mana wards to suppress abilities.

The air was thick with the tang of metal and disinfectant, the dim fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows across the cellblock’s narrow corridor.

Claus was shoved through a heavy cell door, his wrists bound in mana-dampening cuffs, his once-pristine lab coat replaced by a drab gray prison jumpsuit that hung loosely on his pale frame.

His ashen-white hair fell messily over his glowing blue eyes, and the suppression collar around his neck hummed, its blue and gold crystal pulsing faintly.

His mutated left hand, twitched as the door slammed shut, the lock clanging behind him.

Claus stumbled, catching himself against the cell’s cold wall, his breath ragged. He rose slowly, his blue eyes scanning the cramped space—a bare cot, a steel sink, and a flickering light above.

Three cellmates, bulky men with scarred faces and tattered jumpsuits, lounged against the walls, their eyes narrowing as they sized him up.

One, a bald man with a jagged snake tattoo across his cheek, smirked, cracking his knuckles.

“Well, look at this, aren’t you that detective guy… yeah they one that used to work with bord officer Kira? Yeah, Claus was your name—Union scum. That collar screams ‘important.’ Bet you’re some desk-jockey official, huh?”

Claus’s gaze flicked to them, his expression grim, the collar’s hum intensifying as his mana surged instinctively.

“Leave me alone,” he muttered, his voice low, hoarse, but edged with warning.

The second cellmate, a wiry man with a missing tooth, laughed, stepping closer. “Oh, he talks tough. Union bastards like you lock us up, then cry when you’re on this side. Let’s teach him his place.”

The third, a hulking figure with a shaved head, grunted, advancing with a fist raised.

Claus’s eyes flashed, his mutated hand flexing.

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