Sign In To The Body Of Chaos At The Start-Chapter 76: Continuing the Tour of the Dragon Clan!

As Damon was turning to walk away, the mana in the arena slowly dissipated in shimmering wisps as Damon sheathed BloodReaper into the crimson void at his side.

From the side, a robed attendant rushed forward with a glowing vial in hand, a high-grade healing potion encased in a diamond-shaped flask.

Kneeling beside Leiron, the attendant popped the cork and gently poured its luminous contents into the corner of Leiron’s mouth.

The effect was near-instant.

The bruises began to fade, torn flesh knitted together, and his mana flow,while still erratic, began to stabilize. Leiron coughed once, then twice, before pushing himself to his feet with a groan.

He wiped his mouth and looked at Damon with a more composed gaze.

"That was... humbling," Leiron said, "I thought I was strong. But you fought like someone who’s danced with death and learned its rhythm."

Damon turned around and nodded slightly, merely watching without speaking a word.

Leiron hesitated, then offered a half-bow, "You’ve earned your place here. That much is clear."

There was a level of sincerity in his voice that hadn’t been there before. The arrogance was gone, replaced by the clear-eyed recognition of someone who had witnessed true power.

"How about this," Leiron said, rolling his shoulder as the healing potion continued healing his body, "Let me show you around. The Dragon Clan isn’t just battlegrounds and egos. If you’re going to be one of us, you should see everything, the heart of our domain."

Damon raised an eyebrow but nodded in agreement, "Lead the way."

As they turned to leave, Ezreal whinnied once before vanishing in a cascade of starlight, returning to his spirit realm. The crowd slowly dispersed, but their hushed murmurs lingered like distant thunder.

Word of the duel would spread fast not just throughout the clan, but all throughout social media as people posted clips and images. Damon had made his presence known in the most dramatic way possible. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

And there was no turning back now.

***

The two began walking across a winding path carved from obsidian glass. Leiron, despite the remnants of pain in his steps, moved with a soldier’s grace. He tapped his wrist, activating a bracelet with embedded runestones.

"Teleportation matrix," he explained, "Dragon Clan territory is massive. The entire estate is larger than most kingdoms. Our ancestors built spatial formations all over to connect key sectors. Otherwise, we’d waste days traveling from one peak to the next."

A swirling portal bloomed before them, shimmering like molten crystal.

"After you," Leiron said.

Damon stepped through without hesitation.

The sensation was like being pulled through silk and flame at once, warm, charged with magic, but smooth and fast. When they emerged, they stood atop a sky-platform that floated high above a sprawling fortress below.

"This," Leiron said with a sweeping gesture, "is Sector One: The Martial Heart."

Damon looked down in awe.

The Martial Heart was a sprawling citadel composed of circular arenas, combat towers, dueling zones, and training temples.

Massive obsidian golems sparred with initiates. Elemental walls rose and collapsed under spell barrages. Every form of combat training was on display, swordplay, spellcraft, mixed martial arts, aerial maneuvering, even illusion resistance.

One tower in particular caught Damon’s attention, it shimmered with mirrors of many kinds, reflecting illusionary constructs fighting and adapting mid-air.

"That’s the Tower of Insight," Leiron said, "Built to help us fight illusionists. Our raw strength as Dragons can make us arrogant and illusionists have historically always taken advantage of that. So that tower was built 7 years ago to help deal with it. My father was actually the one who proposed it."

Damon nodded. "Smart."

Leiron tapped his wrist again.

The next portal opened. Damon stepped through, and immediately, the scent of herbs, mana-crystals, and simmering alchemy greeted his senses.

They were now in a grand garden-city, beautiful, serene, yet teeming with strange colors and scents.

"Sector Two: The Soulroot Vale," Leiron announced, "Here is where the less combative of us are. Saint Dragons are the ones who live here the most, as they are the clans Healers and Supports. But we also train alchemists here. It’s also where we meditate and commune with our World Spirits."

The pathways were carved into the sides of gigantic ancient trees whose branches touched the clouds.

Floating platforms drifted slowly across glowing mana-lakes, while dragonkin monks levitated in meditation above star-pools.

One of the trees had an opening in its trunk, leading to an underground greenhouse where plants shimmered like gems. A pair of dragons in humanoid form were inside, harvesting leaves that radiated auric heat.

"Instead of purchasing everything, we grow alot of the materials for alchemy inhouse, and we even sell off some of them too."

Damon nodded again, spotting some rare alchemical materials that even had hadn’t accessed being planted here.

***

Their next portal took them into the skies.

Sector Three was known as The Skyforged Ring, a floating array of elemental arenas surrounded by countless platforms where young dragons trained in aerial combat and flight magic.

Hundreds of dragons in hybrid and full draconic forms soared in unison, practicing wind magic, breath control, and teleportation amidst gusting winds.

Leiron pointed toward the largest ring. "That one? That’s where we host the Ascension Trials. If a young dragon can pass them, they’re considered battle-worthy. Fail, and they return to the basics."

A squadron of young warriors zipped by on spectral wind boards, executing synchronized loops through a spiral of runic hoops that tested their coordination and mana control.

Damon watched in silence. There was a raw, untamed beauty to it all, the marriage of elemental magic and innate draconic instinct.

Leiron tapped the rune again.

The world shifted once more.

***

"Sector Four: The Vault District."

Now they stood in a massive underground chamber lit by lavaflows and glowing runes carved into blackstone. Countless gates sealed by complex locks, soul-runes, and ancestral wards stretched into infinity.

"This is where we store our treasures, our cursed artifacts, and the memories of the Ancients," Leiron said. "Only the Elders and their direct descendants like me and you have access to most of it."

Damon’s eyes swept across the vaults. One of them vibrated faintly, an echo of immense power sealed within. His flickered faintly as he peered into the resonance.

Leiron chuckled when he saw Damon pause, "That one houses one of the Abyssal Artifacts we recovered during the War of Three Suns. It’s dormant... for now."

Damon kept walking.

Abyssal power, here within the heart of the Dragon Clan? It only deepened his suspicions as to who was the one who cursed him.

***

Their final stop was the Obsidian Forum, the political and administrative heart of the Dragon Clan.

A massive coliseum-like structure, carved from a floating island, where the elders convened to discuss clan policy, upcoming battles, and internal disputes. There were statues of past Sovereigns lining the walkways, their names carved in ancient draconic script.

"This is where all decisions are made," Leiron said. "Some would rather burn it down, but the elders believe in council over conflict."

"And yet," Damon said slowly, "someone still tampered with the portal that sent me to Starlight Island."

Leiron’s face darkened, "Not all dragons fight with honor. Some just want to rule, no matter the cost."

Damon narrowed his gaze as he looked at the Council Hall glowing faintly in the distance. It was beautiful.

And corrupt.

Just like everything else tied to ancient blood, he didn’t trust it.

As the sun began to lower in the sky, casting molten shadows across the vast territory, Leiron and Damon returned to the entrance of the palace.

"That’s most of it," Leiron said, arms folded, "There are deeper sectors, private family temples, ancient tombs, and of course, the Dragon Soul Chamber at the very core, but those are reserved for the High Elders, you’ll have to get your dad to show you those."

Damon nodded, thoughtful.

The tour had given him more than a layout of the clan, it had shown him the strengths... and the vulnerabilities.

He now knew where to strike, should the need arise.

And perhaps more importantly, he knew just how vast the legacy of the dragons truly was.

"I appreciate the tour," Damon finally said.

Leiron nodded, "We might’ve started on the wrong foot. But you beat me fair. If nothing else, I respect strength. If you ever need backup... or someone to spar with, I’ll be around."

With that, Leiron turned and walked toward a different pathway, leaving Damon standing alone beneath a golden sky.

And above him, somewhere behind stained-glass windows of the central spire... Antares Flandre was still watching.

Plotting.

And afraid..

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