A doorway lay within the cliff’s wall at an English coastline. The entrance was sizable, not as large as a castle’s doors, but still large enough that a few could enter at once. Below the door seemed to be a bridgeway’s remains, believed to be eroded by the crashing waves. Though one unusual part of it was what seemed to be half of a footprint, pressed down into the stone by some kind of reptilian beast.

Because of the shattered bridgeway, the door wasn’t found until recently when snapshots from a ship showed the door with its rotten wood and its rusted iron. An expert climber was able to get down and arranged for a platform where people could stand before the door and get up with ease. With the safety of the platform secured, an archaeologist team went through. This team has five members, three from the UK itself, one from the US, and the final one, the youngest of the group, from Canada.

The leader of the team rubbed his long black hair, his fingers brushing against the glasses he wore. With his other hand he carried a large torch, its white light shining upwards at the ceiling which was a hundred feet high. He sniffed and noted a lack of seawater smell inside, with the area being dry. The light shined upon a wall, where a curled and black scaly being was painted. If it wasn’t for the massive wings, he could’ve sworn that it was a seahorse.

“This is it, I’m sure of it,” the leader said while pulling out a book from his pouch. “This is the lost lair of the self-proclaimed king, King Drake Ashed.”

“Um, Dr. Fitzhugh?” the youngest one asked. “Sorry, I never heard of this Drake Ashed. Who is he?”

Dr. Fitzhugh rubbed his beard, trimmed neat, even as he turned to the asker. This member, a mere apprentice of the group, rubbed the back of his brown hair even as his light blue eyes shifted around. He nodded as he displayed the book before them, where a sketch drawing of that painting lay on one of its pages.

“There’s not much information that I or the others can offer you, Jason. In fact, it’s mostly considered to be an English myth,” Dr. Fitzhugh explained. “What we do know for certain is that Drake Ashed was said to had lived in AD 410, when the Romans effectively lost control over the British Isles. Various groups battle over the territories, but none so mysterious as Drake Ashed.

“The huge reason for that is because it seemed that his rivals made sure to scrubbed and destroy any evidence of his existence either from him or themselves. We only discovered his existence due to finding a painting just like this one but smashed. It’s not sure why he was a target of that tactic or why so many of his rivals, who opposed each other just as much, agreed to remove him from history. But the end result was the same: Drake Ashed was deposed and everything, even down to his name, was destroyed.”

“Yeesh.” Jason looked up at the drawing. “Whatever he did must be horrifying.”

Dr. Fitzhugh nodded before pointing his torch down a hallway. “In any case, lets figure out the missing piece of history.”

Onward the group went, with a couple of them pointing a light on the walls for any more markings. Outside of the same symbol of Drake Ashed, none has been drawn or written on the stone walls. Dr. Fritzhugh poked on a door and the rusted hinges snapped, with it falling and shattering into several pieces of wood and iron. He shined his torched within it, but there wasn’t even evidence of a skeleton laying within that showcase that someone lived in it. They continued and, outside of a few more doors to similar rooms, the most they found was what looked like a small library but without any books.

They soon reached the end of the hallway, entering into a massive room. Jason let out a low whistle, craning his neck up to the fifty feet ceiling and the pillars with carvings of grotesque dragons. Dr. Fritzhugh shined his torch at the other end of the room, with it meeting a large throne-like chair and a massive Drake Ashed symbol above it. The other two shined their torches at the side walls, revealing illustrations of flying dragons burning down forests and people led up to an altar. They then turned around and converged all three torches above the door they enter through, which had a painting of a person cloaked in black while holding a book.

“That’s interesting,” Jason said, looking up at the cloaked paining. “Were books invented during that time?”

“You mean the codex format of books we use now?” Dr. Fitzhugh said, taking off his glasses and rubbing them. “Those were around by the time Drake Ashed was alive, though used primarily by Christians at the time. Of course, it was possible that there were people here that chose to adapt the codex for writing on instead of scrolls.”

They turned towards the throne chair itself, which was carved from stone. Dr. Fritzhugh went up to it and put on a pair of plastic gloves. He then took out a measuring tape and measured the height and width of the chair, with it twelve feet high and five feet wide. He tilted his head, looking at the seat and noting an unusual gap between a seat and the seat back that was over a foot wide. At the same level there were similar holes and, after shining his torch through one of them, the light shined from throne’s gap.

“That’s curious.” Dr. Fitzhugh kneeled down and looked through the hole. “If it weren’t for it being such a ridiculous idea, I could swear that the one who sat upon it, likely Drake himself, wasn’t human.”

“If it was Drake Ashed, he must be massive as well,” another of the team, Dr. Deckard, said while measuring throne’s dimensions. “My calculations suggests that he must be at least seven feet tall.”

Jason looked to the left of the throne and he saw a bookshelf near throne. He went over there, his head tilting at the mostly intact wood and feeling bugged by it but wasn’t sure what. On it sat several scrolls and a few books sitting on it with one opened. Its letters weren’t anything like Latin at all, with the lettering’s edges looked as though they were written by a claw. He waved over to the others and they approached the bookshelf.

“Remarkable,” Dr. Fitzhugh said as he picked up one of the books and flipped though several pages within. “This isn’t any language I ever seen before and I don’t see any trace of another language its rooted from during that time. It looked as though Drake created his own language.”

Jason looked into the bookshelf’s back and he blinked, noticing a hole on the back. Yet, rather showing exposed wall, it showed darkness. He pointed at the hole and Dr. Fitzhugh pointed his torch at it, with light showing though. But nothing showed up. Three of the others then shoved the bookshelf to the side, exposing an entrance hidden behind.

“A secret passageway? Here? But for what?” Dr. Fitzhugh asked as he rubbed his beard. “It couldn’t be for a secret way out since the elements would’ve exposed it eventually.”

“Perhaps it was buried or lead into a cave,” Jason suggested even as he peered into the darkness that had no end.

“There’s only one way to find out. However,” Dr. Fitzhugh pointed his torch all around the massive room, “I desire to investigate this room more. Maybe I could find some script that could help me translate this language here from the other books. Jason,” he pulled out a smaller torch from his pocket and handed it over, “I want you to look into this passageway. Once you find out where it leads to, come back.”

“Very well,” Jason replied with a shrug. As the youngest and most inexperience member of the group he knew he would be doing the jobs no one wants. Still, it could be something important and even a hidden exit would allow them easier access into this lair. “I’ll be back.”

Jason turned on his torch and shined its light into the passageway while stepping in. Echoes of footsteps came from behind as he went in deeper. The light shined upwards and downwards, with him aching his neck even as his heart quickened. That same odd feeling when he looked at the bookshelf came to him again and he closed one of his eyes. That feeling turned into worry when it hit him, his blood turning cold.

During their time looking into the old lair, they did not encounter any rats. Nor did they encounter bugs within. They would be a certainty during such times, but there weren’t remains of a rat hole or a spider web sitting on a corner.

This place repulsed animals.

And that bookshelf, why didn’t they saw it before? It was old, but not rotted like the other wooden remains they encountered. What damage harmed the doors did not came to that bookshelf for some reason, but how?

Jason gulped even as he walked further into the passage, with the minutes dragging as long as hours the further he went on. He looked at his watch, which glowed 14:32, and he shook his head. The darkness seemed to be fighting against the light, with its reach becoming shorter with every step. He shook his torch a bit, which turned off. He gave out a welp before he shook it again.

When it turned on, he was in a room.

This room was far different from the rest of the lair, where a millennium and a half doesn’t seem to touch it at all. He rubbed the wall and the stone felt crisp, as though it was carved in just last week. He stepped on a carpet, weaved in purple in gold, and he rubbed his fingers on a large desk. He looked up at the wall separated by the entrance and a pair of torches lay above, looking as though they were never lit on fire. At the other end lay bookcases full of countless books and, when he approached on and opened it up, he saw the same language written on it from before. At the center of the room lay a pedestal where a book sat upon.

Jason turned back at the passage, his eyes wide. “Guys? I found something! Come and check!” He waited a minute or two before yelling out again. “Guys? What’s taking you so long?” A minute passed and no sound came. “Um, guys?”

He took another look at his watch.

14:32.

He gasped before walking ahead, towards the exit. Upon reaching the passageway’s arch, he crashed into a soft yet firm thing that felt like laying on a waterbed. He pushed forward, only for it to push back with equal force. He yelled before punching at whatever was blocking his way. It in return forced him back, with the torch falling out and its light dying as he fell on his back.

When Jason got back on his feet the fire torches lit up, lighting up the room with their green flames. He gulped, looking around the room he could see better now. Next to the desk lay on a wall a scroll rolled open. It contained a drawing of dragons fighting each other, both black but one with red and the other with yellow around themselves. The red one was more massive, but the yellow one had a far powerful aura around it.

He casted a glance at the pedestal before turning away, instead going into his pocket. He felt his smartphone in there and he brightened up, pulling it out. On its black mirror’s reflection was a dragon with black scales while its torso had yellow scales. His heart jumped a bit, pressing a button, but the screen refused to turn on.

He lifted it over his head, only for the dragon’s yellow eyes to glow.

Jason blinked, feeling an unsatiable urge to walk over to the pedestal. He is an apprentice archaeologist after all and finding and reading old books is part of the trade. He could find something useful in learning about Drake within its pages. And perhaps that could be the key in getting out of this room.

Even as he twisted his feet towards the pedestal, letting the phone slipped through his fingers, the back part of his mind screamed out. Even if there could be something that could help, it would be ludicrous to believe that he could understand its language. After all, those books from earlier had as far as he could tell an untranslatable language. What made him thing that this book would be any different?

This isn’t natural.

Stop.

The book opened and Jason looked into its pages, his eyes wide. His fingers rubbed the pages, feeling its thin parchment with his fingers. The language was the same as before, but they had a yellow glow to it. He blinked and the temptation died, with him falling back.

The pages turned by themselves as he crawled back, shaking his head. He looked over at the fallen smartphone, but its dragon reflection disappeared. The pages stopped turning at that point and a yellow aura formed above the book. It solidified a bit while it took shape and stepped down, looking like a tall anthro dragon at seven feet with black scales and a yellow scaly torso. Its yellow eyes looked down upon Jason’s blue eyes even as its lips curled into a sneer, its massive wings spreading out and its tail slamming down.

“I am free!” the dragon spirit said, spreading out its arms before it laughed. “Those servants of the western lord thought they sealed me, King Drake Ashed, for all time! But they could not predict that someone would find my lair or that a servant of lord Belegurth would be so patient!”

“What?” Jason said, his back bumping against a bookcase. Though there were growls within that speech, he could understand the spirit just fine. In fact, the words seemed to reverberate within his head rather than being spoken in the first place.

“You!” The spirit extended its left arm and Jason was flung into the air, grunting. “You will make a fine vessel for my return into the mortal plane. Though my spirit survived, my body was loss due to those western lord’s servants.”

The spirit walked over to Jason, their eyes leveled, and it rubbed its tail against his neck. The touch was colder than the coldest winter he ever endured, and he gasped. The spirit laughed before plunging its hand-paw into his chest.

“But first,” the spirit grinned even wider, “you should be put into a more suitable form for myself.”

Jason’s eyes bulged, feeling its hand-paw clutching his heart tight. He grunted and heaved, feeling its cold power flowing through his limbs and head. His skin’s hair stood up and he gritted his teeth.

His fingernails thickened up while growing longer, with them having a sharper edge to them. Black scales grew over his fingers and they spread up. His palms had a leatherier type of scales even as his nails turned yellow. His shoes then ripped open from massive toenails growing, yellow as well. His feet became longer, ripping his shoes apart, as the bones shifted and snapped. They formed into a digitigrade shape even as his feet-paws expanded in size and has black scales growing over.

The scales spread up his arms and legs even as he grunted and thrashed, his skin feeling numbed for a second before regaining sense to them. The scales reached his neck and chest even as his neck grew longer and his mouth and nose shifted and pushed themselves forward. His tongue grew thicker with a forked tip even as his teeth became larger and sharper. His jawline moved back until they reached behind his ears even as his lips split apart around the same area. His mouth, which became a snout, had scales forming on it even as his nose became nothing more than holes.

His eyes became slits while his ears stretched backwards and spread out even as they thinned. Four bone-like structures grew within his ears, stretching them out until they became ear frills. His hair on the sides and back fell off even as the one on top became far longer and turned yellow. A pair of yellow horns broke through his skin just above his ear frills and grew a foot long. His tongue rolled down, with him panting even as his torso became covered in yellow scales.

He heard a ripping sound came from behind and he gritted his teeth, feeling as though his spine was ripping off. A pair of appendages, nothing more than massive bumps on his shoulder blades, stretched longer and larger, ripping through his shirt. The appendages shifted, with a thin leathery-like membrane stretching down to just above his butt, as bones grew under there. Soon, after ending with a yellow tip each time it exposed itself, his newly formed wings spread out behind. Another ripping sound came, this time from below, with a thick tail growing out from the pants’ hole, ending with a fluffy tip. The gripped against his heart tightened and he screamed out, with his height growing until he touched the ground again at seven feet.

The spirit chuckled at the anthro dragon Jason had become. “I love it when my victims scream out. Of course, you’ll be undergoing a great honor of being my vessel. Now, let us be one and then I will return.”

The spirit squeezed Jason’s heart harder and he gritted his teeth, with tears falling out. His chest felt cold even as he felt an energy spreading out from it. He closed his eyes, grunting, trying to contain the energy within his chest. It forced its way some more, only for him to clench his fists and his will fought back. In his mind, it seemed as though he was in a wrestling match and he and his opponent struggled to overpower the other.

“You have a surprisingly strong will,” the spirit said before it chuckled. “But we both know who will win in time. Still, lets make your mind more malleable to me.”

With the other hand-paw, the spirit pressed his finger onto Jason’s forehead, with him flinching from the cold touch. His eyes snapped open and they shook, with sweat falling from his cheeks. He tried to shift his eyes away, only for them to turn back to the yellow eyes almost hypnotically.

His mind darkened, filled with a powerful lust for conquest. His mind envisioned himself sitting on top of a throne, looking down upon his defeated opponents. With a wave of his hand, he saw himself crumble entire armies. His lips curled into a smile and he laughed.

“Yes. I was a fool. It was never about a thing called good or evil, but about power. And those who has the courage to wield it should take over the powerless.” Jason flexed his fingers.

“Good. Good. Now you see.” The spirit removed its finger. “Now, you’re ready—”

The spirit grunted, feeling a hand-paw against his own throat. The gripped tightened and the spirit grappled with the hand-paw. Jason smirked, swinging his other fist at the spirit’s head, with it falling back and letting go of his heart. He laughed some more, kicking it aside.

“Do you honestly believe that I’ll still let you take me over?” Jason approached the open book and pressed his hand-paw on top of its open pages. “There’s only one room for the world’s ruler.”

“What are you—” The spirit paused as a pair of green flames came from the book and fused with Jason. He laughed before turning aside so that one of his blue eyes, now glowing, looked down at the spirit. He then raised a hand-paw, which glowed purple and black. “No!”

He laughed while the energy ball shot out and impacted the spirit, his fingers flexing. The spirit screamed, twisting and turning as it floated in the air. It slimmed down, with it grunting and screaming even as it solidified into a material form. Soon, it was nothing more than a thin staff, twisted in several areas, and ash grey before ending with a red gem with a purple glow.

Jason sneered before grabbing onto his new staff, feeling its power coming from his mentor and victim. Its power infused into Jason, with his muscles tightening and expanding. What clothes his pitiable former form had shredded out even as he stood taller at almost eight feet tall, his yellow horns bright.

He looked down upon the clothes he wore previously and, with a wave of his hand, the shredded clothes unraveled themselves into threads and resewed themselves. The colors shifted and the string lengthened themselves even as his glowing claw twitched with every movement. Then, with a slam of his staff, the green flames from the torches converged and solidified into steel which hovered above him.

The clothes them come upon him, with him putting on a short sleeve cowl that went from his shoulders and reached down to his ankles, purple with golden highlights at the edges. A scapular then came down upon him, with the purple and gold much brighter and having a diamond shape on the back. A belt wrapped itself around his waist, with it having a yellow dragon paw as its symbol. Black fingerless gloves slipped onto his hand-paws and he looked up at the hovering steel. The steel formed and clicked into place on his shoulders and wrists, with him grinning wide.

Jason flexed his muscles a bit before walking towards the passageway, a dark grin on his face. His horns scraped on the ceiling even as, with every step, his staff tapped against the ground, with the impact producing green flames. Sure, he may not have an army to take on the world just yet, but he will. For he is no longer Jason but Nadreon, successor to the disposed king Drake Ashed and the world will be his.

A second passed and Nadreon walked to the other side, hearing some chatter.

“Are you sure he’ll be safe down there?”

“Of course. Jason is a bright boy and he wouldn’t get himself into trouble. And unless I’m mistaken, I hear him coming.”

Nadreon walked out to the other side, the four archaeologists having their backs to him.

“I must say, Jason, that was fast. That took 15 seconds for you to be in there. What did you—” Dr. Fitzhugh turned as he spoke, but he stopped and gave out a cry. The others turned as well and they screamed. Nadreon chuckled to himself, loving the sounds of screams. “W-what are you? Where’s Jason?”

“The boy that you known as Jason is gone!” He lifted up his staff, with its gem glowing purple. “There is only me, Nadreon, the soon-be ruler of the world! Hear me!” He sneered at the four, seeing one of them stumbled back. “This world has been perverted since the days that someone like me walked upon it. I see now how your ‘free-will’ have been squander by vapidness like cheap entertainment and petty debates. But under my will, humanity will be reborn under what should have been: where the strong rule over the weak! We will have the days of nature back in its pure years! And you will serve me as my commanders!”

“What are you talking about?!” Dr. Fitzhugh cried out even as he took a step back. “We’ll never serve you!”

“You won’t have a choice.”

With that, Nadreon slammed his staff down and a purple energy wave covered the entire room, with the four archaeologists powerless to move. Soon, their bodies twisted and turned, with their limbs expanding even as their spines stretched out. They screamed, falling down on all four in a more natural pose even as their clothes ripped apart from their glowing bodies and black scales covering their bodies.

A pair of lumps formed on their backs which expanded into massive wings even as claws and horns grew on their feet and head. One slammed their front right paw down on the floor, which shattered, while the others growled. Their scales grew thick, especially on their chest, and their teeth grew long while their mouth and nose moved forward into a snout. Each one grew a tail, two of them ending in spikes and two ending in fluff. Spikes also grew on their back, hard and sharp enough to pierce the thickest steel. By the end of it, the four archaeologies completed their transformations into feral dragons, each one at 40 feet tall and all bowing down to Nadreon.

He laughed to himself as he approached one and rubbed its snout. He remembered a village that they encountered along their way here, with its laughing kids and busy adults, and his expression brightened. He turned to the throne and sat on it, being too small to him but he can fix it in time. He waved his free hand and each of his dragons glowed before disappearing.

Nadreon looked around the room, which was shattered because of the changing humans, but that was also OK. He has all the time in the world to make it much better than before. The rooms would no longer be empty, instead filled with humans who survived and thus proven their might. Each will be put into a rank according to their skills with the best ones becoming dragons like himself. His tail swayed beside him even as he twitched his staff, with the room cleaning up.

The time of the humans will end under his claws.