TALENT AWAKENING: DRACONIC OVERLORD OF THE APOCALYPSE

Alister felt the weight of his father’s words lingering in the air like an echo that refused to fade.

He hadn’t expected this reunion to stir such emotions—pride, regret, even a sliver of warmth tucked beneath layers of indifference.

Galisk’s presence was both familiar and foreign, like a song he’d heard in childhood but couldn’t recall the lyrics to.

Mar’Garet leaned in slightly. “My lord, you’re awfully quiet. Does your heart flutter with sentiment, or is it just the awkwardness of family reunions?”

Alister’s eyes turned toward her, a faint look of amusement breaking through the stoic façade he usually wore.

He allowed a soft exhale, smiling.

“Perhaps,” he replied simply.

Mar’Garet chuckled softly, her fingers brushing a stray strand of her silver hair behind her ear.

“Well, you look happy. It suits you, my love.”

Galisk clapped his hands together suddenly, breaking the moment with a grin that could light up a war room.

He stepped forward, folding his arms.

“Alright, kids,” he announced. “What do you say we go on a little outing with dear old dad? Use and abuse some privileges you never got to experience.”

Yuuto, who had been standing slightly off to the side with his arms crossed, groaned audibly. His brows furrowed as he shot Galisk an incredulous look.

“Are you serious, Galisk?” Yuuto muttered, one hand lifting to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Galisk’s grin only grew wider, his chest puffing out slightly with exaggerated pride.

“Indeed,” he said, his golden eyes gleaming with mischief and something deeper—joy. Obviously, he wanted to show off his kids to the whole city.

Yuuto sighed heavily, his hand dropping to his side as he shook his head.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, there are other things I need to attend to.”

His tone was sharp, but the faintest trace of a smile betrayed his attempt at indifference.

Galisk waved him off with a casual flick of his wrist, then paused as if struck by a sudden thought. He snapped his fingers, turning back to the group with an almost childlike glint in his eye.

“Come to think of it, there’s one more person I’d like to meet before we start our little outing.”

Miyu, who had been quietly observing, tilted her head slightly. “Who is it?” she asked.

Galisk’s grin returned, sharper this time. “Little Guildmaster Anya,” he replied.

—

Meanwhile, in the hallways of the Berserkers Guild, Anya strode confidently in a white hoodie, black pants, and a black trench coat hanging loosely over her shoulders, her boots echoing faintly against the polished floor.

Her wristwatch vibrated lightly. She glanced down, expecting another mundane update—but her eyes widened slightly when she saw the caller ID. She tapped the device, answering the call, and a familiar voice greeted her.

“Well, if it isn’t little Anya,” came Galisk’s voice through the tiny speaker. “I’d like to meet you, see how much you’ve grown… and introduce you to my kids.”

Anya blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Sir Galisk? Since when did you arrive in this megacity? Wait, what did you say… You… have kids?” she blurted out, unable to hide her surprise.

“Since when did that happen?”

Galisk chuckled warmly on the other end.

“All the more reason you should step out. I’ll be expecting you.”

The call ended before she could form a proper response.

“Crazy old man didn’t even specify a venue. Does he expect me to go searching for him?”

Anya stared at her watch for a second longer, then sighed with annoyance and curiosity intertwined.

She turned to Klaus, who was sorting through a stack of documents at his desk at the end of the hall.

“I’m stepping out for a bit,” Anya said.

Klaus didn’t even look up. “Understood. But when you get back, you’ll need to sign the sponsorship deals from those upcoming companies.”

Anya groaned, rubbing the back of her neck in frustration. “Ugh, handle it, Klaus. You know that crap isn’t my strong suit.”

Klaus finally glanced up, then sighed. “I understand,” he muttered with mild disapproval as he returned to the growing pile of paperwork.

Anya didn’t respond, already heading toward the elevator, her thoughts racing. The Union President’s kids? She wasn’t sure what to expect—but she had a feeling this meeting would be far from ordinary.

She pulled up a little cube, then stepped back as it expanded into a holographic device with a picture of Alister. She grinned.

“It seems my hunt will have to wait.”

But never in her wildest dreams would she have expected the twist that awaited her… not that it would even stop her.

…

…

Dragon Overlord City – Current Residence of the Dragon Kin

The strategy room of the castle was vast, with towering black obsidian pillars etched with golden dragon carvings that gleamed under the faint light.

Large arched windows lined the walls, allowing streams of sunlight to pour in, casting shifting patterns across the polished dark stone floor.

The white quartz round table at the center shimmered with enhancement runes, surrounded by high-backed chairs upholstered in deep crimson velvet.

Along the walls stood tall shelves filled with scrolls and relics, while a massive dragon-shaped chandelier hung overhead, its crystal eyes reflecting light like scattered embers throughout the room.

Draven, Alzuring, and Silvyr sat around the table, their expressions calm but focused.

Terra stood at the far end, hands clasped behind her back. Her sharp gaze swept over each of them before she stepped forward, the sound of her boots echoing softly.

“I’ve called you all here today to give orders on how things should progress in our lord’s absence,” Terra said as she adjusted her glasses.

“It is imperative that our forces become stronger than they are now. As our lord said, we shall step back into the golden era of dragons—perhaps even rise above that. So it is my responsibility as his advisor to ensure proper steps are taken to realize his goals.”

Alzuring leaned forward slightly, placing a thoughtful hand beneath his jaw, his sharp blue eyes locking onto Terra’s.

“So, you wish for us to train them in our arts?”

Terra adjusted her glasses again.

“Precisely. The dragon kin present shall be divided among us, and we shall each train them.”

Silvyr hesitantly raised his hand, the green scales on his neck catching the chandelier’s ember-like reflections. His golden eyes flicked between Terra and the others before he spoke.

“How exactly are we going to decide who trains whom?” he asked, fingers lightly tapping the table.

“Most of them are still in the First Order, though a few advanced to the Second Order after ingesting our lord’s blood. Will one of us be prioritized to train them? Also, from what I’ve observed, none of them can use magic. Spellless casting won’t be possible for them yet. Does that mean we’ll be teaching them that as well? There’s also the matter of magic type and aptitude.”

Terra paused, adjusting her glasses.

“Good questions.”

“But before we proceed, it’s important to clarify the framework we’re working within.”

She took a step closer to the table, her gaze sweeping across the room.

“Dragon Orders are the measure of a dragon’s evolution, power, and connection to their true nature. The lower the order, the fewer draconic features they possess—both physically and magically. A First Order dragon barely has scales, claws, or horns, and their connection to dragon magic is weak. As they ascend through the orders, these features grow stronger. By the Tenth Order, one becomes a True Dragon, embodying the full essence of our kind.”

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