Before long it was his last day back.

  Evan had made little bandanas for their rescue team, embroidered with a new logo—a little sun peeking through the clouds. He and Avery planned on heading all over the Galaxy, helping folks who’d been caught by monsters.

  Evan couldn't even sleep he was so excited; he crashed the next afternoon. Zane found him napping that afternoon on the couch.

  Later the two of them went fishing, and Evan started rambling happily about the Constellation Order—for the most part he was still having a time of it.

  Only—“I don’t think I like training that much…” said Evan sheepishly.

  The Constellation King doted on him. As far as Zane could tell, the old fellow wanted to keep Evan cooped up, and train him up all the way until True God.

  But Evan wanted to head out into the wider world again, like he and Zane used to do. He was keen on going on adventures again—helping folks where he could.

  It did sound more like him.

  Evan was having some trouble breaking the news to the Constellation King—he didn't want to let the old man down. He still felt a bit bad about it.

  “I don’t know…” mumbled Evan. He turned to Zane, imploring.

  Evan seemed to think Zane had all the answers—it amused him.

  Sometimes Reina seemed to think the same way, come to think of it.

  Zane just told him to tell the fellow the truth. It seemed to him the best way forward, most all of the time.

  “If he’s as wise as you say, he’ll understand.”

  Evan thought about this for a bit.

  Then he nodded, all determined. “I’ll give it a try!”

  That was another thing about Evan—he had a very hard time with the idea he might disappoint anyone. He just wanted to be a good boy.

  “Sometimes you’ve got to stand up for yourself,” Zane informed him, and gave him a head-pat.

  But Evans were meant to go on adventures, just as Zanes were meant to fight. You had to do what you were made for, in his view.

  ****

  Planet Tarsus

  Princess Dya, Heiress of the True Phoenix, watched her fiancé in the caverns below, and pouted.

  “Haven’t you done enough for the day?” she said. “You’re always training…”

  Haxorax, #2-ranked on the Rising Dragon Rankings, wiped a line of sweat from his brow, slammed a meteor through a Transcendent-grade Steel dummy—and ignored her.

  If Dya didn’t know better, she’d think he was doing it on purpose.

  Before she’d snagged him, her hand had been the most sought-after in all the Dragonspire Galaxy—and she knew it. Her beauty was famed across the Galaxy, her breeding impeccable. Twenty heirs of Godbeast houses lined up for her, and she’d made them do their little songs and dances, but they never really stood a chance.

  Dya wouldn’t settle for any man but the best.

  That man was Haxorax. The First Prince of Dragons.

  He looked more sculpture than man—harsh, clean lines making a lean yet powerful frame. Startlingly gold eyes. The perfect picture of a prince, to match her perfect picture of a princess.

  The only thing wrong about the scene was that he hardly paid her any mind. He’d always done just enough to be polite, nothing more.

  These last few months, it’d gotten even worse—at times he’d be downright cold! He spent nearly every waking hour training—like he was being chased by a shadow. He was no fun at all.

  She knew just who was to blame.

  “It’s that Zane Walker, isn’t it?”

  She saw Haxorax’s jaw work at the name.

  “He’s just a silly low-bred brute! He’s nothing like you—common as common could be. Why must you bother with him?”

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  Haxorax prepared another meteor.

  “Why do you even need to fight him, anyway?” she said. “There’s far easier ways to get rid of him. A word to my father, and he’ll be crushed like the gnat he is—no-one would have to know…”

  Haxxorax whirled around.

  “What sort of man do you imagine I am?” he said. It was a perfectly measured phrase, not even a snarl—but there was a tightness in it that made her heart leap to her throat.

  “Hmph!” she said, reddening. “You never listen to me.” She marched off in a huff.

  Several hundred meters below, Haxxorax wiped the sweat from his brow, and sighed. He made a fist.

  Four white-bearded Elders stepped up to the corners of the arena, and drew their weapons.

  “Let us begin,” Haxorax said.

  They attacked.

  Each, a peak True God of the Azure Flame Faction. Each ranked in the top-100 leaderboard for Monsters kills—there were statues of each man there in every Azure Flame sub-Faction. Legends all.

  Haxorax unsheathed his claws. They shone with the power of a million-year Bone.

  Reality Distortion—World Genesis.

  An extinction event opened up in that cavern—and the skies turned to fire and brimstone. Meteors descended like rain—each holding enough force to wreck a D-grade Planet.

  In under a minute it was over.

  Motes of golden light flowed over the battlefield—the sparring arena reviving its combatants.

  “Hells,” croaked Elder Whitefang.

  Deep in the bowels of Tarsus, a monster was being born…

  There were talks of Haxorax delving deep into the old magics of the dragons. Rumors that he’d resonated with the Ancestor Bone—the Dragon’s heritage Sacred Bone, a multi-million-year power he was on the verge of claiming. Talks that every night he bathed in distilled True Dragon’s essence, making of his body the highest-grade treasure in the galaxy.

  This was not even his peak.

  Not even close.

  A once-in-an-era genius, with a once-in-an-era work ethic. That was Haxorax, the First Prince.

  And yet—

  “Not enough,” growled Haxorax, staring at his claws.

  He looked to the Elders, eyes burning—“Again.”

  ***

  It was always a bittersweet thing for him—Evan and Avery could be gone for months. Evan buried his face in Zane’s belly, a sniffling hug.

  Zane hoped to visit Reina often, though, which she was quite pleased about.

  That evening, he waved good-bye to his friends.

  He was off to the Azure Flame.

  Off to claim his last three Concepts.

  ***

  He teleported into Noughtfire’s mountain around dawn. Thick mists snaked around the base; like always, it felt like he’d stepped into some old Japanese painting.

  Before Zane left, the Barbarian Sage told him if it hadn’t been for Noughtfire, they might not have found Goloog at all. It was Noughtfire that gave him the crucial drop of blood.

  Zane found the old fellow in the garden and inspecting some plants that look like dandelions, though with stars for puff-seeds.

  “Ah,” said Noughtfire. “You’re back. Well, then! Shall we get started?”

  It was as though Zane had taken just a weekend off.

  “Let’s do it.”

  Noughtfire strode into his hut. Zane followed. The Sage didn’t mention the Goloog thing at all—Zane wondered what else Noughtfire did for him that he just didn’t know about.

  He quite appreciated the old fellow.

  “I trust your trip went well.”

  He nodded. He knew it wasn’t an invitation to go on about it. Noughtfire was quite uninterested in small talk. The old fellow considered it inefficient.

  “Onto the matter of your Law.”

  Noughtfire stroked his beard. “If Heavenly Destruction were not involved it would be a much simpler matter. But it is. And so you bear both its burdens, and its great benefits.”

  That Delph had said something similar.

  “In normal circumstances,” said Noughtfire. “It would take centuries to claim this power. In normal circumstances, even with a soul of your heft, I would advise you to take decades. But we do not have that time, Zane. You know that as well as I. War is coming... And so we must be creative.”

  Noughtfire’s eyes gleamed.

  “They say there are no shortcuts to cultivation,” said Noughtfire. “But that is not strictly true. With the right knowledge, and the right resources—and most importantly, a certain kind of man… it is possible to bear the brunt of time on your soul, and evolve like nothing this age has seen. Are you ready, disciple?”

  “Yes,” Zane said without hesitation.

  “Very well.” Noughtfire flicked a sleeve. “Three Concepts remain to you. Each, building one atop the next—until you reach the full potential of the Solar Flare! That is a different creature entirely from the beast you have now… in each Concept, you will comprehend a greater share of Destruction. The preparations are made.”

  He opened his fist, and there lay two flowers. The very same Zane had seen him observing outside.

  Dreamflower [Transcendent (F)]

  “Take them,” said Noughtfire. “These are your keys to the Dreamscapes s of Astra.”

  Zane did.

  “There are certain places in Astra mysterious even to me,” said Noughtfire. “Places where time runs strangely, and the conscious and the sub-conscious blur… places may well be dreams, but are no less real than our own world, in their way.”

  He paused. “I speak of a dream-world. A place impossible for nearly all those who live in this world to enter. The prerequisite is a soul that can bear the brunt of it. The stronger your soul, the more you can take advantage of it.”

  “You’re saying there’s a time dilation,” said Zane. He understood. “Like with the last time I went to Astra.”

  “That is correct. But this time, it runs the other way.” Noughtfire smiled. “You’ll spend more time in there, than out here. And there will the lines between reality and unreality blur—only there will you be able to grasp a Concept as though it were a tangible thing.”

  It sounded a lot like the last time he went to Astra, when he broke through to Tier 5 Law. That Solar Flare world—

  “It is not like the Solar Flare world,” said Noughtfire.

  Zane blinked.

  “The Solar Flare world was built entirely around one Law—Solar Flare. But this is its own real world—its own complete reality. With its own kingdoms. Clans, cultivators. Lives. They go on, whether you’re there or not. A dream so tangible it is nearly real—that is why it works so well. Although—you will go there as a visitor, seeking out hotspots of Law to study. You will not be involved in the petty day-to-day of that realm—beyond asking for directions, perhaps.”

  Noughtfire seemed amused at the thought. “It is very unlikely you’ll find any trouble there, Zane. We spend most of our time in the Faction, among deities. But where you spawn is likely to be a normal world, with normal folk—their power levels will… not compare to your own.”