The Dragonborn Overlord of the New World

by nolalothcaragascint1

[Overlord AU/Canon Divergence. No Ainz or Nazarick] [Slow burn] Guild Master Tiberius of the Sanguine Dragons has spent the last 12 years adventuring throughout the nine worlds of YGGDRASIL. But now the game servers are shutting down. What happens when he inadvertently remains behind during the shut down? How will Tiberius react when finds himself in a New World?

4. Chapter II

Chapter II

A New Beginning

With each step, Tiberius navigated the helix-shaped staircase, his determination undeterred. But the tight confines of the stairwell posed a challenge, and he found himself hunching to fit. Even then, his height proved to be a hindrance, as his horns and folded wings brushed against the stone overhead. The sensation didn't bother him much, given the protective nature of his scales and the lack of feeling in his horns, but the constant resistance and occasional knocks were hard to ignore with each downward step.

Was this stairwell always so small? Tiberius paused to adjust his wing's positioning, I guess this is the difference between a game and reality. And what I get for creating such a large avatar.

With relief, Tiberius was glad the passage wasn't unnecessarily long, and the stairs finally led him to the level flooring of the corridor outside the Council Chamber. Stretching back to his full height, he let out a low grumble. But his respite was short-lived as he continued his journey, reaching the second of the double helix stairs.

He sighed.

From now on, I am avoiding these stairs whenever I can.

Tiberius hunched his shoulders and drew his wings in close, navigating the narrow staircase with careful steps. Descending the stairs, the monotony of the journey was broken only by the accompanying echoes. The soft clink of his armour, or the flat sounds of his footfalls on the stone steps. But beneath them, the dragonoid's keen ears picked up faint echoes reverberating through the air. The weak murmur of distant voices, growing clearer and more tangible as he neared the bottom of the stairs.

Anticipation built within him as he approached the exit of the stairwell. But also an odd eagerness for what was to come.

Emerging from the shadowy passage, Tiberius stepped into the resplendent radiance of the Throne Room. His eyes danced across the scene, drinking in the sight of the assembled NPCs gathered in this grand space.

Amidst those few NPCs assembled, Nido's white-furred cloak stood out. The deva stood apart from his comrades on the room's periphery. Seemingly content to remain by the wayside and observe his fellows rather than join them. Nearer to the center, the Valkyries continued to group together. The squad of women warriors had stationed themselves at the foot of the throne dias as they conversed amongst themselves. Not far from them, the towering mage butler, Mathias, stood in his usual place. Beside him was the smaller Kip, the kobold bard holding onto the other's heavy cloak.

Yet, it was the distinct absence of the raven-haired Overseer from her place atop the tiered platform that attracted Tiberius' attention and curiosity.

Turning his head, Tiberius scanned the room around him. His flame-coloured eyes finally settling on her form some distance from the others In a manner similar to the Nido, she for reasons unknown had chosen to stand apart from her fellows.

Yuliana stood nearly motionless with her hands clasped together before her and with her head turned towards the Rotunda's grand entrance. Overall, she seemed serene if one was to judge by her body language. However, the dragonoid's keen eye was able to detect the subtleties that contradicted this. Instead, it told him of a troubled and contemplative mindset.

"MASTER!"

A rapturous voice suddenly cried out, shattering the peace of the chamber.

From his place upon the throne dais, the kobold bard came scampering down the platform. Launching himself from the last step, Kip broke into a full sprint as he raced across the room, his little reptilian feet making quite the racket in doing so.

With such a pace, Kip was barely able to slow himself, sliding to a halt before his master.

"Master better now, yess? No mad at Kip and others?" he asked with a voice brimming with equal parts hope and trepidation.

From his place at Tiberius' feet, the small bard gazed up at the towering dragonoid with wide silver eyes. His expression was a pleading one as he wrung his hands nervously. In gazing at the diminutive figure, he was reminded of watching a small child who was unsure if they were in trouble.

"Yes, Kip. I am better now. And no, I was not mad at any of you." The dragonoid reassured the bard.

The reply earned a short squeal for glee from the kobold much like a child receiving a most desired gift. Then much to Tiberius' surprise, Kip rushed forwards and hugged his leg as he continued to stare up at him. When Kip offered his master a toothy grin, the dragonoid felt a pang of envy. It appeared the kobold was capable of a far less threatening smile than he.

Turning his gaze away, he looked to the others in the room.

The Valkyries stood in a tightly knit grouping, their expressions showcased how mortified they felt about Kip's outburst. A few even stood with mouths agape, while others simply shook their heads. It was as if they had just witnessed some form of sacrilege being committed.

At seeing such a reaction, Tiberius was reminded of a time during his early years in management. At the time an overenthusiastic intern had made the mistake of greeting his supervisor in a most unprofessional manner. It was a costly blunder for the intern.

On the throne dias, Mathias remained rather formal in his impassivity. His fleshless visage made it difficult as ever to discern his thoughts. Among those gathered, it was only Nido who proved equally hard to read.

In contrast to either the Chief Attendant or the Premier Diviner was the Guardian Overseer.

Yuliana stood, her jade eyes narrowed to thin slits as she glared at the little bard standing at the feet of her master. However, she still wore a smile on her features. It was a smile that even a glance from a distance, one could tell was false. Her posture was visibly stiff as she began to slowly approach the pair.

"Lord Tiberius, you seem to be faring better."

At the sound of the feminine voice, a noticeable shiver passed through the kobold before his body went rigid as a plank of wood. The toothy grin he had been sporting had now all but disappeared. Now his jaws had parted with his surprise. Sheepishly Kip, like a child caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, released his hold on the taller reptilian before turning slowly and staring up at the female Guardian.

Standing before the miniature reptile, the Guardian Overseer gazed down at Kip, her eyes still deeply narrowed, and wearing a stony expression.

In response, Kip managed a nervous chuckle which earned him a gruff hmmph from deep in Yuliana's throat. Unable to stand against the might of her withering gaze, the kobold hunched his shoulders and lowered his eyes to the sapphire floor.

Without further ado, he bowed to the dragonoid and then repeated the action to the Guardian Overseer before turning and scurrying off to again join the fae abomination

Yuliana followed his movements before shifting and looking back to Tiberius.

"Well, now that the distraction is out of the way. Shall we, my lord?"

Yuliana pivoted, aligning her left side to the throne dais, and held her arm outstretched as if to guide the way. With a brief nod, Tiberius began to move toward the waiting throne. In his wake, the female Guardian fell in tow behind him. There came a small pause in his step, Tiberius turned, his gaze falling on the Orrery Keeper.

Nido met his stare and understood the meaning. When the dragonoid and the Guardian Overseer again set forth, the one-eyed deva followed suit.

As their master approached, the Valkyries began to move, forming into a regimented stance at the base of the multi-tiered platform.

As Tiberius placed his foot upon the first step, he hesitated, looking up at the shimmering stone seat atop the platform. He watched as the colour shifted from electric blue to a dazzling myriad of green hues. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked to Yuliana whose smile seemed to grow –if that were possible- when she met his gaze.

In looking at her, Tiberius again felt the nagging guilt for his earlier outburst. It was something he did plan to rectify - but now was not the time.

As the dragonoid ascended the dais something felt different. It was an odd sensation, this was an action he'd performed countless times in the past. Yet that was in YGGDRASIL, a game. However, this was not a game any longer, and as such, it felt different now. The closest approximation that Tiberius could up with was that it felt heavy – as if a great weight had been heaped upon his shoulders.

Reaching the top of the platform, the dragonoid paused, reaching out he ran his taloned fingers along the armrest of the gemstone-like seat. His eyes closed for a brief moment, inhaling deeply, then turned and lowered himself down onto the throne.

"Shall the Valkyries begin their report, my lord?"

The dragonoid felt to answer in the affirmative, then for some unknown reason stopped himself. Leaning to the side, he rested his armour-clad elbow on the armrest of shimmering stone as he considered the proposition.

I guess we should listen to it now. But what about the others? There are the other Floor Guardians to think about. I mean if they're excluded now, it just means having to tell them about this later. Besides, having them here would also give me an opportunity to observe them as well.

Lifting his gaze, Tiberius looked to address the female Guardian.

"Delay that for the time being," he answered while gesturing with a raised hand.

This unexpected response earned a curious look from the Guardian Overseer.

"I think it would be best if the others were also here to listen to this information for themselves. Summon the other Floor Guardians."

Yuliana smiled, "As you command."

From his seat on the throne, Tiberius watched as the Guardian Overseer nodded before raising her hand and pressing two fingers to her temple. It was a curious action to undertake, for surely she was utilizing the [Message] spell to contact the others.

In watching her, the dragonoid considered the action. It seemed rather superfluous as the magic acted on the mental level and required no physical movement. Yet, it was a gesture he'd seen performed countless times in the past. Particularly in the realm of action and science fiction films and games whenever a character would speak to another over their comms. Being so ingrained into the collective media zeitgeist – perhaps YGGDRASIL's developers had added this clichéd gesture to its animation gallery.

Though, he could not recall actually seeing it ever used in the game. So maybe then whatever magic had brought them all here had acted to bring this gesture to the NPCs' repertoire.

Her summons finished, Yuliana lowered her hand and returned to her usual stance as she settled in to wait.

As this wait continued and without knowing its exact length Tiberius chose to follow her example and make himself more comfortable.

Yet there were certain obstacles that needed to be overcome.

Firstly, there was the issue of sitting on a throne of stone while wearing a suit of plate armour. Then there was the matter of inhabiting the body of his former game avatar, which provided a new set of challenges.

These presented themselves as the set of bat-like wings that sprouted from his shoulders and the long thick tail.

In their resting state, his wings were pulled close and so to cope Tiberius expanded his wings. This placed his wings on either side of the throne and more to his side than directly behind him. This would permit his shoulders to rest against the throne's back. However, it was now the problem of his tail. With the thick tail base projecting out from his lower spine, it was not the most flexible. This meant he could not sit flush with the chair. To accommodate this he sat further forward on the throne's seat and draped the bulk of this muscled appendage over the armrest to lie on the floor.

While this was not the most desirable position, it was a far cry from some of the more uncomfortable positions he'd found himself in before.

As the dragonoid sat upon the iridescent throne, his eyes stayed focused on the doors on the far side of the Rotunda. Without YGGDRASIL's in-game HUD, Tiberius felt at a loss of just how to track the passage of time. This unknown quantity of time resulted in the dragonoid soon falling into boredom.

In resting there, Tiberius was struck with a sense of déjà vu as memories of countless meetings were drummed up within his brain. So many times in his working life had he been called into meetings that often suffered delays. Few it seemed to recollection ever began when they had been scheduled to and carried on far longer than desired. It was such an inefficient use of time and resources that he most often came away with a simmering frustration.

As that familiar irritation, the dragonoid had taken to drumming his fingers upon the stone armrest.

The monotony was finally broken by the echoing creak of the Rotunda's great doors parting. At the sound, Tiberius sat up straighter upon the throne as his eyes traveled to the pair of figures making their way along the carpeted foyer.

"Guardian of the Eighth Floor, Lord Aeon. And Guardian of the Seventh Floor, Lady Naziah."

The almost nasally voice of the kobold bard rang out within the previously silent Throne Room.

The dragonoid's head swiveled, his gaze leaving the two oncoming individuals to fall onto Kip with a mildly surprised expression. He had not been expecting such an outburst from the well-dressed reptile and it left him to wonder.

Was his proclamation something of his own devising? Or had this been something that his creator had programmed into his behaviors?

I know we all liked to roleplay our characters. So I wonder if the others also added routines for the NPCs to follow as well.

Deciding it was best to ponder such questions at a later date, Tiberius turned his attention back to the forthcoming individuals.

Of the pair, Aeon was the first to reach the raised platform. His every movement was purposeful, more of a marching stride than a casual walk.

Aeon, Guardian of the Eighth Floor, was a formidable figure standing at a towering seven feet with an awe-inspiring physique of lean, powerful muscles. His imposing presence commanded respect. Covered from head to toe in a magnificent suit of gold and silver full-plate armour, not an inch of flesh was visible. Accented by a tasset of rich red cloth, adorned with golden stripes and the emblem of a fiery star over a shield, gleaming in silver thread. Atop his head rested a menacing classical barbute-style helm, distinguished by its sharp Y-shaped opening. But this helm was no ordinary piece; an enchantment of concealment lay upon this piece, leaving only a void shrouded in impenetrable shadows.

Kneeling before the throne dais, Aeon placed a gauntleted hand upon the lowest step. Behind him, the tendrils of azure flames that sprung from his shoulders flared. Cascading and coalescing they formed into majestic wings.

The remarkable appearance bore by Aeon's wings was an unmistakable mark of his divine heritage, for he belonged to the exalted order of celestial beings – the Seraphim, the highest of all angels.

"Lord Tiberius, I have come to heed your call," the angel's voice was deep and his words reverberated like iron.

From the Seraphim's left came his fellow angelic compatriot, the Guardian of the Seventh Floor, Naziah.

While not a Seraphim, Naziah's celestial power was no less formidable. She was a distinguished member of the Legion Archon, a different order of angels with their own unique divine influence.

As per YGGDRASIL's lore, the Seraphim were renowned for their combat prowess, boasting numerous offensive abilities. On the other hand, the Legion Archons, being peacemakers and diplomats, excelled in support roles and were blessed with summoning abilities.

The female angel, Naziah, stood at an average height, a little over a foot shorter than Aeon. Her lithe and athletic figure boasted a fair and unblemished complexion, truly embodying angelic beauty. With a soft smile exuding innocence and compassionate cerulean eyes, she seemed to radiate warmth. Her pale blonde hair was elegantly tied in a high-top ponytail, with bangs artfully framing her lovely face like a heart. Folded at her shoulders were a pair of pristine white dove wings, held close to her form in a resting position.

The female angel donned unique armour, comprising several layers of protection.

At its base, a burnt orange bodysuit pulsed with regenerative magics. Above this, a glimmering chainmail shimmered under the final layer of silvery half-plate. The finely crafted metal plates possessed a bluish tint, exuding an otherworldly aura.

Around her waist, a long skirt of white silk adorned with purple depicted a star within a diamond motif. Instead of a helmet, Naziah wore a hood of rich golden silk, embellished with elegant white swirls. Above her head, a radiant gold circlet hovered, emanating a holy glow. The ensemble completed a striking and formidable appearance befitting an angelic warrior.

Clutched in her right hand, Naziah held a staff forged from the same metal as her armour. The exquisite weapon, slightly shorter than her, featured intricate scrollwork that emitted a mesmerizing fluorescent blue glow. At the top of the staff, a large emerald, the size of a child's fist, sparkled and gleamed in the light. The staff served as both a symbol of her angelic status and a potent conduit for her divine powers.

Moving gracefully, Naziah stepped up beside the towering Aeon, her staff continuing to float in the air, a testament to her celestial powers. As she reached the dais, she humbly clasped her hands before her and bowed in a show of respect and reverence.

"My lord."

Naziah's voice, gentle and soothing, seemed to dance on the air before reaching the dragonoid's ears like a calming melody. As her words washed over him, Tiberius felt a sense of tranquility filling him and soothing his nerves.

The dragonoid's flame-coloured eyes scanned over each of the angelic duo in turn.

"Welcome," Tiberius acknowledged the pair with a nod.

The two celestial guardians rose and returned their master's nod of acknowledgment. Then turned, Naziah taking her staff in hand, and strode to the right to stand with the Orrery Keeper.

"Guardians of the Fifth and Fourth Floors, Sir Koraboros and Lady Lyleth."

Kip's announcement barely preceded the arrival of the newest of the Rotunda's guests.

To the left, Koraboros strode, a formidable and cunning Demon Lord, his presence exuding foreboding and intelligence.

The Fifth Floor Guardian stood a fair bit taller than his female companion, yet still a head shorter than Aeon. Roughly in his mid-thirties, he possessed long, untamed black hair that cascaded down to his shoulders, while his bangs partially obscured his ruggedly handsome face. Possessing a sharp jawline adorned with a classical "evil goatee", adding to his rugged yet menacing nature. Despite his regal features, an undercurrent of danger and concealed malevolence emanated from him. This sensation was intensified by his blood-red iridescent eyes, with their catlike vertical pupils.

As befitting a lofty Demon Lord, his attire exuded nobility and grace.

His torso was adorned with a loosely fitted, white long-sleeved shirt featuring a frilled jabot collar. A deep red vest, almost black in hue, graced his chest. Over this ensemble, he donned a double-breasted frock coat crafted from Red Dragon leather. The laced cuffs of his shirt puffed out from beneath the coat sleeves, adding a touch of sophistication to his appearance. Below the waist, he wore dark trousers, their legs neatly tucked into knee-high boots that gleamed like mirrors from diligent polishing. A wide band of wyvern leather encircled his waist, secured with a silver skull clasp that glistened in the light.

Striding slightly behind the Demon Lord's left, Lyleth emerged from his shadow as the other member of this infernal pair.

Her striking beauty was undeniable, with flawless alabaster skin that complemented her slender frame and statuesque form. A face of captivating symmetry and enthralling violet eyes, a shade mirrored in her luscious lipstick, made her a rival to legendary beauties. The bewitching color of her eyes was accentuated by heavy black liner, adding to her pull. Her long hair cascaded to the middle of her back, as white as freshly fallen snow, though tainted by the raven frost at the ends.

Like her angelic counterpart, she too possessed a pair of feathered wings. However, these once pristine white feathers were now tainted, darkened to the color of damp ash, with crimson tips as if dipped in blood. The last vestiges of her angelic heritage lingered in the air above her, a once-golden halo, now charred and blackened. Its smooth form twisted and mangled into a jagged crown of thorns. At its forefront, it appeared melted, with molten metal forming a resemblance to a set of inverted metallic horns.

Lyleth's unique features were a result of her racial type, as she was an Erinyes.

Erinyes, once angels, had committed deeds deemed too vile for the divine realms, leading to their punishment. Cast out and fallen from grace, they became dark parodies of their once-innocent kin.

Lyleth, the dark femme fatale, donned a tempting ensemble crafted to emphasize her allure and dangerous charm.

Her dress, made of pure drider silk in a captivating shade of deep purple, had been meticulously tailored to enhance her seductive appeal. Its neckline plunged daringly low, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her ample cleavage. The sides of the dress were sensually sliced open from hip to hem, showcasing the full length of her shapely legs. The front of the dress was intentionally shortened, stopping just above her knee, adding a touch of provocative elegance.

Adorning the dress was a wine-colored leather vest, more akin to a seductive corset. The softened leather was embellished with a grid-like pattern of silver studs, creating an alluring play of texture. Around her neck, Lyleth wore a matching burgundy leather gorget, from which golden feathers cascaded down her shoulders like a regal plume.

Beneath the dress's hem, her legs were clad in dark full-length stockings, accentuating their glamour. To protect the delicate fabric, she wore knee-high armoured leggings adorned with stylized plates. The angular lines and bat-wing-like knee pads added a touch of fierce beauty to her ensemble.

Lyleth and Koraboros represented the dark and negative karmic aspect of the Floor Guardians, mirroring the positive and benevolent presence of Naziah and Aeon on the other side.

This concept of karmically balancing the light and the dark was a creation of ArtisticSeer's mind. Surprisingly, he held deep spiritual beliefs about the necessity for harmony and balance in all things.

"Thank you for coming."

The dragonoid rumbled in greeting as the pair stopped at the base of the platform and knelt.

"You summoned us, we came. It could not have been otherwise."

It was Koraboros who responded. His voice possessed a rich timber though it was low, almost hoarse, at the same. Beyond that, there was an accent of some type that Tiberius was unable to identify.

"Indeed, my lord," Lyleth's words were spoken with an almost catlike purr.

With the same affirmation as the previous guardians, the demonic duo stepped forward, their movements fluid like dancing shadows on the sapphire floor tiles. Koraboros and Lyleth joined their angelic counterparts, their presence commanding attention. For Tiberius, it was especially challenging to avert his gaze from the mesmerizing sway of Lyleth's hips as she gracefully walked forward.

As the two took up their place with Aeon and Naziah, the dragonoid eyed the four intently.

In lore, angels and demons are supposed to be mortal enemies. And yet, they show no signs of hostility. Could it be because they're not really angels or demons? Or maybe because they're all members of the guild they don't hold any opposition to each other. Either way, I guess it's a good thing, I don't need them going to war within the guild.

"Sixth Floor Guardian, Sir Gorkon."

As the kobold continued his routine, Tiberius spied him from the corner of his eye.

I think after this is over, I'll have a talk with him. This formal reception stuff might be fine for first timers. But I don't want him doing this for every meeting. And besides, it's REALLY boring! I don't understand how anyone can put up with it.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the heavy thud of approaching footsteps, echoing throughout the chamber. Accompanied by the distinct and sharp clanking of metal, the sounds signaled the arrival of the next Floor Guardian making their way to the Throne Room.

Gorkon's striking appearance immediately drew attention. His long silver hair was neatly tied back in the topknot style of samurai warriors, with a few strands intentionally left to frame his face. The harsh features of his gaunt countenance were accentuated by an unnatural grey skin tone, accompanied by dark veins that sprawled across his flesh like an intricate web. Various scars marred his complexion, including a jagged three-inch vertical mark at the left corner of his mouth and another across the bridge of his nose. His right cheek bore heavy scar tissue, adding to the ruggedness of his presence. Yet, it was his piercing blue eyes, glowing with an otherworldly intensity, that made it clear he was no ordinary human.

The eerie visage might have unsettled most, but for an undead being like him, it was simply the norm. As far as Tiberius could recall, Gorkon was an advanced form of a Death Knight or something of the sort.

Clad in a formidable suit of black fel-iron armour, Gorkon presented an imposing figure. The plates of his armour bore the marks of countless battles, with rough and pitted surfaces, as if they had weathered the worst of conflicts. The irregular shapes and jagged edges added to the aura of battle-hardened strength. Although the armour showed signs of rends and scrapes, they were merely cosmetic, not compromising the armour's integrity. It was a testament to Gorkon's prowess and the trials he had faced.

Advancing towards the throne dais, Gorkon's steps echoed with the discipline of a seasoned soldier. Once he reached the platform, he gracefully bowed his head and knelt in a show of respect.

Amusingly, the dragonoid wondered if perhaps Mathias, Gorkon, and Nido were to engage in a staring contest who would emerge the victor.

The same as those before him, Gorkon remained unmoving until he received the customary approval before taking his place alongside the others.

Shifting on the stone throne, Tiberius awaited the arrival of the final two guardians. Moments ticked by and nothing was forthcoming. Looking away from the Rotunda's entrance, Tiberius shifted his gaze to the noticeably silent kobold. Kip continued to remain silent, his eyes fixed on the far side of the Rotunda.

Turning away, the dragonoid now looked to the Guardian Overseer.

Yuliana could only offer an anxious smile in response as she too kept a watchful eye on the Throne Room's entrance.

After several minutes of waiting, the great doors finally parted ways and a pair of figures stepped through. Even from across the gulf, Tiberius could make out the sounds of frantic and heated words being traded between the approaching pair.

"Guardians of the Third Floor, Sirs Romulus, and Remus."

At finally being able to announce the brothers' arrival, a wave of relief washed over Kip, who let out a low sigh, relaxing his stance.

The brothers, Romulus and Remus, drew their names from the legendary founders of the ancient city of Rome. According to the legends that surrounded the pair, the city's founders were brothers who were raised by a she-wolf in the wilds before going on to achieve greatness. Thus, in keeping with this wolven motif, this pair of Floor Guardians followed.

On the right, walked Romulus, the younger of the pair.

Though neither brother appeared particularly aged, both seemed to have just stepped out of their adolescence and into adulthood.

Romulus stood at an average height, boasting a lean and athletic build akin to a trained runner. His fair skin was complemented by shaggy auburn hair, styled with a backward sweep, while the bangs flowed freely. His face radiated with the handsomeness of youth, and his honey-gold eyes held a hint of amber. Perched on the bridge of his nose rested small rectangular silver-rimmed spectacles, lending him a scholarly air. But the most captivating feature was the pair of fluffy wolf ears adorning his head.

Impeccably dressed, he wore a plain long-sleeved white shirt graced his torso, elegantly covered by an emerald green jacketed vest. Over these layers, he donned an azure-hued hooded cloak, proudly displaying the silhouette of a howling wolf head on its back. His lower half was adorned with dark trousers, neatly tucked into shin-high boots that he had diligently polished to a mirror-like shine. Around his waist, a soft brown leather belt held several pouches and a small book, no larger than a typical novel, secured with a thin gold chain.

In stark contrast, the elder brother, Remus, stood a few inches taller, displaying a robust and muscular build. His tanned skin spoke of countless hours spent outdoors, embodying the ruggedness that set him apart from his brother's more bookish demeanor. Remus bore a resemblance to Romulus while possessing a rugged and weathered look, in contrast to his brother's more refined appearance. The trio of diagonal scars on his left cheek further set him apart. Like Romulus, he also boasted a head of auburn hair, but Remus' locks were shaggy and unkempt, strands lying haphazardly at random. His wolven ears were sleeker, with short fur and a more pronounced triangular shape atop his head.

Remus' choice of clothing further showcased his laid-back demeanor. His legs were clad in simple trousers made from heavy sackcloth, casually tucked into the fur-lined tops of his rough-cut rawhide boots, marked with numerous scrapes. He sported an oversized black V-neck sleeveless shirt, nonchalantly pushed beneath his waistband. What caught attention was the great Arctic direwolf pelt draped around him, functioning as a makeshift vest. The creature's furred head lay slack behind his neck but could be pulled up to form a hood. Around his neck, a twisted leather cord displayed three formidable five-inch-long fangs – the fangs of a Forest Dragon.

In their crossing of the Throne Room, the pair held their heads high and eyes focused on the occupied throne. Doing their best to ignore the annoyed glares and expressions of irritation worn by their fellow Floor Guardians.

In a scene reminiscent of all those previous the dragonoid had witnessed, the two brothers stopped before the throne dais and knelt. Then in difference, the pair leaned forward placing their hands on the lowest step and touching their foreheads to the cold sapphire.

Remus and Romulus held this position for several moments before rearing back to sit up on their folded legs.

"Lord Tiberius, please forgive my brother and I for our apparent tardiness. We were inexorably detained before we could make our way here."

The younger spectacled wolfman spoke calmly and concisely.

"Heh, what my brother really means to say is he spent too much time fretting over his appearance."

It was the elder brother who spoke, refuting the younger's words with a casual tone. Shifting, Remus leaned over to give his brother a friendly elbow nudge to the ribs.

This jest, however, seemed lost on the more serious-mannered Romulus. He paid no heed, continuing to sit upon his folded legs, his spine as straight as a board. For his brother's jest, he spared Remus only a cursory glance before returning his complete attention to the dragonoid seated on the throne before them.

Yet, in that brief moment, his irritation was on full display for all who would look.

Remus cared little for the other's annoyance, instead, he shifted into a more relaxed position. Stretching out, he slouched and folded his arms behind his head, a look of boredom settling over his features.

"I am sorry, brother. But some of us do care that the proper decorum is observed beyond simply picking leaves from our hair and fleas from our pelts."

Romulus retorted with a smirk at play upon his lips.

Hearing his brother's snide words immediately set the elder wolfman's hackles on end. The wolven ears atop his head lay flat against his skull as he swiveled to face his twin. His hardened stare fell on Romulus in the clear implication of a threat. A challenge that was affirmed with a low growl.

Romulus turned swiftly, his amber-gold eyes meeting his brother's matching pair with an equally firm stare. His own fluffy wolven ears were pulled back against his head, though he took the display a step further by adding a lip curl and flash of fangs to accompany his own growl.

Yet before this fraternal spat could escalate and become any more heated someone interceded.

"Silence!"

The voice of the Guardian Overseer cut through the air with a steely edge.

Taken aback by the sudden harshness of Yuliana's tone, even Tiberius immediately turned to look at the irate woman.

From her place beside the throne, Yuliana glared down at the two brothers. Her usual calm expression was now twisted by seething anger.

"Have you two no shame?! Do you forget where it is you are?! Was it not bad enough that you have forced the master to wait upon you? But now you do this?"

With each line of her tirade, Yuliana began to descend the platform. Step by step she moved ever closer to the pair below.

"You are in the presence of the Supreme Lord of the Creators. And that you would choose to sully your positions as guardians by acting like bickering mewling pups. It is an outrage, a disgrace!"

Being admonished like disobedient children, the brothers were quick to sulk like children.

Their ears were held turned outwards and level to their scalps while they hung their heads in sullen silence. Each stared at the sapphire floor tiles beneath their knees as if they held the answers.

"Have you nothing to say for yourselves?" The Guardian Overseer asked, her voice carrying with it a terrible weight and a deadly edge.

Reaching the last few steps, Yuliana loomed over the pair of werewolves as if to dare them to speak.

But unable to respond the two simply balled their fists and pressed them tightly into their thighs.

"No?" she questioned with mock curiosity, "Then take your place amongst the others."

Rather meekly the brothers rose and turned, and then with their proverbial tails tucked between their legs, the pair slunk away. Romulus and Remus kept their heads down and their footsteps were more of a hurried shuffle.

"How shameful."

"Reprehensible."

"Such sacrilege."

"Unbelievable."

This was a sentiment repeated by their fellow guardians with a disapproving shake of the head, whose harsh stares were now just as venomous as that of the Guardian Overseer.

Satisfied, Yuliana watched the wolven brothers slink away. Only when the pair had taken a spot at the furthest end of the row of guardians did she turn away. Retracing her steps, Yuliana again ascended the dais to stand at the side of the shimmering gemstone throne.

From his seat on the throne, the dragonoid watched the proceeding with quiet contemplation – and some bit of trepidation. Though a part of him did feel bad for the brothers. After all the pair did bring it upon themselves with their antics. But more so Tiberius felt a certain sense of relief. It was a relief that it was not he who had been called upon to step in and end the short-lived conflict. Or that he was not the one to go against the irate Yuliana.

However, with all the Floor Guardians now gathered and the distractions out of the way, all eyes now fell on him.

All right, I guess it's time to test the waters.

The dragonoid grunted softly as he cleared his throat before he rose from his kingly seat.

"Before we begin, I would like to give thanks to all for coming. Even to those who were late in attendance."

At their liege's benevolent words, the pair of brothers seemed to shrink back further.

"None would think to refuse your call."

"Indeed, to do otherwise would be a mark of sheer madness."

"Such sacrilege would befit none who would call this mountain home."

"Agreed."

Such were the sentiments that were given life by the mouths of those present.

"If I may, my lord?" one of the guardians stepped forward.

Inclining his head, Tiberius' gaze shifted to the armoured figure of Gorkon, "You have a question?"

"I am sorry, Lord Tiberius. But shall we not wait for the arrival of the Area Guardians as well?"

"No, they will not be joining us at this time," the dragonoid's baritone voice rumbled, "After this meeting, you are free to inform your subordinates of what you have learned here. However, for the constraints of time and the overall safety of the mountain. The Area Guardians shall be remaining at their posts."

"I understand, my lord," Gorkon bowed and stepped back into position.

The dragonoid's fiery eyes swept over the other Floor Guardians and he waited, giving chance to any who would have their own questions. When none of those gathered offered their voices, Tiberius turned back to the waiting throne. Once again seated on the stiff stone seat, the dragonoid took a brief moment to make himself more comfortable. Content with his placement on the throne, he turned to the Guardian Overseer with a small nod.

Understanding the meaning behind the gesture, Yuliana returned the movement. With a bow, she took a step away from the throne and toward the edge of the topmost step.

"Synnova, approach, and deliver the report of your findings to the master," Yuliana's outstretched hand beckoned the leader of the Valkyries.

Heeding the command, the raven-haired Romanesque beauty stood straighter –if such a thing were possible- and strode forth to stand before the assemblage.

"As per the commands of Lord Tiberius, my fellow Valkyries and I set out from the mountain and surveyed the surrounding lands."

"And what did you find?"

"The mountain is surrounded on all sides by dense forest land. To the northwest, there lies a great mountain chain. Near the foot of the mountains lies a large lake, some miles across. To the east, we observed the forest continues for several leagues before giving way to flat grasslands. During our initial survey, we found no signs of habitation within the forest."

"Thank you, Synnova. You may now step back."

Following her words, Yuliana performed a gentle motion, no doubt meant to shoo away the Valkyrie.

Acknowledging her superior's wishes, Synnova nodded before she bowed and turned back to her sisters.

The dragonoid leaned forward on the throne, lifting his right hand, he ran his thumb along the length of his elongated reptilian jaw. It was a habit of his, often doing so when a subject struck his interest, and this information was most certainly worthy of his focus.

It served to only reinforce his earlier theory.

Through a means unknown, Týrnaust and all within it had been transplanted from the emerald hills of Asgard to wherever this place was.

Well, at least whatever it was that brought us here was kind enough to drop us off near a mountain chain. Instead, of someplace where a mountain doesn't belong like those grasslands. Or near a city.

At that thought, Tiberius was given pause.

Does this world have cities? I don't even know if this place is inhabited. And what if it is? What kinds of people live here and what will they be like?

Pulling back from these thoughts, lest he lose himself in a spiral of new questions. Tiberius turned his gaze to the gathered NPCs. He examined their faces, looking over the expressions they exhibited. In doing so the dragonoid decided it would be best to act quickly and preempt any fear from taking root amongst them.

Seeing their master's sudden rise from the shimmering throne garnered the attention of the crowd.

"And there you have the crux of the situation, my guardians. We find ourselves in a new and unknown land."

Tiberius paused for a moment, allowing the NPCs time to contemplate his words and adjust to this new reality. By outward appearances, they seemed to have little trouble digesting this news. However, this was only what they chose to display and told him nothing of how they truly felt on the inside.

Feeling the moment, Tiberius continued.

"For now we do not know what lies beyond those verdant forests. Nor as to the manner of what threat may be lurking unseen in this world. And yet, I am unshaken by this. And why is that? For none of us are alone in this, we are together and it is this unity that gives us strength." The dragonoid performed a sweeping motion with his arms as if to encompass the Throne Room and all within his grasp. "We will not be cowed by this new world. We will rise to meet any challenge and crush it underfoot in our triumph."

As he continued to gaze out at the faces of his subordinates, he took note that his words appeared to be having the desired effect. Gone were any signs of uncertainty, having been replaced with vigor and mirth.

In looking out upon them, Tiberius was reminded of his fellow members of the Sanguine Dragons. His friends. People who had crafted this cast of characters and helped to shape the guild into what it would become.

While they may not have been there with him now. It could be said that they were with him in spirit. Their collective legacy was there all around him and it would carry on through each of their creations.

"Many uncertainties lie before us. Yet we cannot stand idle and we must be proactive in this endeavor. To remain ignorant of this world and its inhabitants would be to court disaster. So it is to this end, that we must expand our collective knowledge and discover just what awaits us out there."

Tiberius stepped forwards, his eyes focusing on a singular member of the Floor Guardians, "Koraboros, I have selected you to head our intelligence-gathering efforts."

At hearing the dragonoid speak his name, the Demon Lord placed a hand atop his heart as he bowed deeply and with a flourish.

"I thank you for this honour, my master. I pledge to fulfill this task to the utmost of my abilities."

"Of that, I have no doubts. Furthermore, Nido, I would like you to make use of the scrying crystal. Begin to survey the lands that surround the mountain, and coordinate your efforts with Koraboros."

The stone-faced deva replied with a silent nod of understanding.

"As with any undertaking of such magnitude, there will come potential risks just as rewards. In time our presence in this world will become known and it will draw others. Of this, I have no misgivings. Nor can we simply assume that all those that we meet will be benign. Thus we must be ready and able to defend ourselves, aggressively if needed, against all who would wish to do us harm."

Tiberius pivoted, turning to address the Guardian Overseer who stood naught but mere feet away.

"Yuliana, though you are the Guardian Overseer I would like for you to cooperate with Koraboros and Aeon in this matter." Her answer was a silent bow, "Good. In all matters pertaining to this subject, I expect all others to follow their commands as they would my own."

"My fellow Guardians and I shall not fail you, Lord Tiberius."

Once more the dragonoid paused, his flame-coloured eyes sweeping over those gathered.

"My trust in each of you is unequivocal and I know you will perform your duties without fail. But always remember this, there is an ancient adage that states; 'A chain can only be as strong as its weakest link.' In this way, a weakness of one is a weakness shared by all. So we must support one another, work together and our combined strength will carry us through this trying time."

Silence descended on the Throne Room for a scant moment, then came an outpour of cheers. Words of undying praise and unyielding declarations of loyalty were heaped upon the draconic figure.

The dragonoid remained atop the dais and allowed himself to bask in the revelry of the others. With the praise came a feeling of exhilaration and the thought that perhaps the situation wasn't quite as frightening. However, this did not wash away all the feelings that plagued him. Such was the nagging guilt for the issue of the apology he still owed.

"Yuliana," Tiberius called to the female Guardian, "Walk with me for a moment."

At her master's beckoning, the Guardian Overseer seemed to go rigid. However, with a gentle nod, she acquiesced and began to follow the dragonoid down the multi-tiered platform. Reaching the base of the dais the pair fell in stride as they began to make their way to the distant exit of the Rotunda.

From the outside, Yuliana may have appeared calm and collected. Yet within, a storm of uncertainty was brewing, gaining strength with each passing step.

Occasionally as the dragonoid and the raven-haired beauty strode along the carpeted pathway she would glance up at the scaled being. In doing so, she would observe him, studying the expression worn on his draconic visage. Unfortunately, much like it was with reptiles –her own true form included- their scaled countenance made discerning emotions difficult. That is unless it was something they had wished others to see, such as the frightful display the dragonoid had performed earlier that night.

This uncertainty caused a flurry of questions to erupt like a wellspring within her.

Why had the Supreme Creator requested her to accompany him? Did he wish to impart further orders away from the distraction of the others?

Or perhaps he was displeased over the matter of intervening with the brother's squabble. Perhaps he saw it as her overstepping her bounds in his presence. After all, as the highest authority in Týrnaust, disciplining the troublemakers would be his prerogative.

Soon enough the two came upon the great cathedral-style doors of the Rotunda's entrance. Stepping forward, the dragonoid pressed the flat of his hand against the cool metal surface. With a minimal push, the doors parted before them.

Tiberius stood aside and with a polite gesture indicated for the Guardian Overseer to proceed through the opening. Without a word, the exotic beauty passed before him and into the evening air.

With a final glance back along the length of the foyer and into the Throne Room beyond, Tiberius followed through the opened doorway.

Out here the Pinnacle was bathed in the pale moonlight.

Closing the doors behind him, Tiberius turned to observe the female Guardian had moved away from the entrance.

She stood beside one of the great marble pillars that supported the Rotunda's heavy roof. Yuliana stood with her back to him as she gazed out over the courtyard, her arms wrapped around her midriff. It was a guarded stance that showcased her unease with the situation.

Seeing this the dragonoid couldn't help but sigh. Reaching up, he rubbed the back of his neck as he thought about how best to approach the situation.

From behind her, Yuliana heard the low rumble of the great doors before they closed with a tell-tell clank. Then came the clink of armoured plates and the sharp clack of claws on stone.

"I know you are no doubt curious as to why I have asked you to accompany me," the dragonoid's voice rumbled, "I wished to address the matter of what happened earlier away from the prying eyes and ears."

Hearing the words that her master spoke only served to confirm her earlier fears. So it was true, he was planning to reprimand her for her actions. He was just showing her a kindness by not doing it in front of the others. However, it was not something deserved.

Steeling her nerves, Yuliana turned to face the dragonoid, ready to accept whatever punishment he had decided on.

"I wish to apologize to you for my early behavior. My outburst was uncalled for and it was cruel of me to direct it at you and the others. So I ask if you can forgive me for it?"

The world seemed to freeze around Yuliana as the moment felt as though it stretched out into eternity.

The Guardian Overseer stood motionless, her mind having trouble contemplating what had just transpired. Surely she had misheard or he had misspoken for those couldn't have been the words. It had to be a trick of her mind, perhaps some part of her mind was desperate to avoid the punishment.

Her jade-coloured eyes stared up at the dragonoid.

The usually hardened draconic features seemed somehow… softer and the inner flame that typically blazed within his gaze was lessened. Together it told her that his words had been earnest.

The lack of response from the beauty was making the dragonoid more nervous by the moment. Though Tiberius did his best to maintain his composure, subconsciously he clenched his fists, feeling his talons pressing against the scales of his palm.

So far this was not proceeding how he had envisioned it. He had hoped it would be a simple matter - he would give his apology and she would give an answer in return. Unfortunately, his only answer was a blank stare.

"Yuliana?"

The low baritone of the dragonoid's voice worked to bring the female Guardian back from wherever her mind had gone.

"B-but my lord, you have no reason to apologize," Yuliana hesitantly responded, "Tis I and my fellow Guardians who should seek your forgiveness."

The Guardian Overseer lowered her head, directing her eyes toward the cold marble under her feet.

This puzzled the dragonoid.

"What do you mean?"

Resolutely Yuliana raised her head.

"In the Throne Room, I overstepped my authority when I should have left the matter of Romulus and Remus' outburst to your discretion. But more than that, we guardians have failed you. As Floor Guardians the entirety of our existence is hinged on our ability to fulfill our duty. We are to protect the Creators from any who would threaten you with harm. And yet, we failed to notice any of what has transpired. It was only you. You, Lord Tiberius. The sole being amongst us all who was aware that anything had happened."

She paused, drawing a deep breath.

"And more than that, as you sought to understand this event, we… I only served to distract you from your goal. We failed and in our failure, we could have brought doom upon us all. But most importantly to you. You are the last of those who gave us life that yet remains. If something were to happen to you, we guardians wouldn't be able to live with ourselves."

Tiberius stared down at the woman before him. Saying he was surprised by her response was an understatement.

Throughout his life, he'd had plenty of interactions with the opposite sex, from his coworkers to his guildmates in YGGDRASIL. He'd been there to see them cry and even offered comfort to some. But never, at least to the best of his knowledge, was he ever the cause for one to be so upset.

To see such raw emotions on display reminded him that this was not a game anymore. This was real and he was dealing with real people.

The long moments stretched out around them two individuals as silence echoed about them.

A soft breeze wafted by, dislodging several strands of Yuliana's raven locks to cascade freely across her face.

"You did not fail."

The low rumble of the dragonoid's voice cut through the stillness.

"None of you have failed. All of us have been caught off-guard by this event. There was no way any could have predicted this would happen. And even if you had been aware, what could you have done? You did the best that you could and that is what matters most."

Extending his arm, Tiberius brushed away the strands of hair from the beauty's face. His scaled fingers gently grazed her flesh as he tucked the hair behind her ear. As if realizing just what he'd done, the dragonoid was quick to pull his arm back and wonder why it was that he'd done that.

His actions appeared to have been equally surprising to Yuliana, a slight blush quickly enveloping her cheeks.

Tiberius coughed lightly, "The day has been a long one. I will be returning to my quarters for the time being. Contact me if anything new develops."

Yuliana nodded gently, her eyes never leaving the dragonoid's face.

From her place atop the Rotunda steps, the Guardian Overseer stood rooted to the spot. Though she knew it would be best for her to return to her fellows, but couldn't. Something held her, compelled her to stay until she could no longer see her draconic master.

Reaching up, Yuliana touched the fingers of her right hand to her cheek. Carefully tracing over the patch of skin that the dragonoid's own scaled flesh had graced. As she did so, Yuliana felt a noticeable increase in the ambient temperature.

Or at least, that's what she would say should anyone have confronted her about it.

Unwilling to immediately face her compatriots while such feelings persisted she hesitated. Taking a deep breath Yuliana suppressed the emotion before she turned and approached the doors.

No sooner had the doors parted than the Guardian Overseer became keenly aware of the lone figure that stood just inside the foyer.

"Eavesdropping, Lyleth?" Yuliana questioned the other female.

The erinyes fluttered her wings and spun on her heels, a toothy smile at play on her lips, to greet the other Guardian.

"Oh, but I wish I could my dear," Lyleth mock pouted, "Unfortunately, those doors are far too thick and I'm not one to muss up my hair by pressing my ear to them."

Lyleth made a show of reaching her arm above her head and pressing herself against the cool obsidian crystal of the nearby column. This action only earned her an eye roll from the other female.

"Tch."

Disappointed with the response she'd received, the erinyes pushed off from the pillar. With a slow roll of her hips with her every stride, something that Yuliana couldn't help but take notice of, the winged beauty began to approach.

"So now, just what did the master wish to speak with you about that the rest of us couldn't hear?

"It does not concern you," Yuliana crossed her arms below her bust and replied with a smug smile.

"Oh come now, you can tell me," Lyleth drew out the words like a pleading child, "I know how to keep a secret. Was it some new order?"

The erinyes began to circle the other female. Halfway through Lyleth leaned in close, so close that her hair was able to tickle Yuliana's shoulder. Again, the toothy smile tugged at her lips.

"Or was it something else? Something saucy, something more intimate?"

The fallen angel giggled softly, her voice a low and husky whisper.

Yuliana's posture stiffened at the implications of those words, "Even if such things were discussed, I would most assuredly not be informing you about them!"

"Oh, so, I guess I was right, it was just business after all. But then I guess that's to be expected."

The erinyes pulled back, striding around to stand before the Guardian Overseer. Lyleth's grin grew smug and her tone mocking.

"The two of you have nothing in common, aside from your shared reptilian heritages. Although I wouldn't dare to compare the majesty of his draconic form to the slinky tube, you call a body. I mean what could the master possibly want from you? While I, on the other hand, have plenty to offer."

Turning away, Lyleth took several long strides before suddenly unfurling her wings in a dramatic display. Then, as if to put on a show, she spun on her heels, striking a salacious pose that demanded attention.

With a flick of her head, snow-white hair was sent cascading down, partially veiling her face, and adding to her allure. Half-lidded, lilac-colored eyes exuded a sultry charm, while her luscious lips curved into a seductive smirk. Like a skilled temptress, she tilted her body to accentuate her prominent curves. One could hardly ignore the appealing showcase of her bust and the revealing slit of her gown, exposing her porcelain-like upper thigh. It was as if she had mastered the art of seduction, leaving no doubt about her confidence and captivating charm.

"You should be careful, dear Lyleth. Else I might just have to pluck those feathers from your wings."

Yuliana hissed through clenched teeth, her eyes narrowing into a harsh glare.

An odd smile crept over the erinyes as she dropped her pose and moved closer to the agitated Guardian Overseer.

"You know, I do believe I could use a new pair of boots. Perhaps the master might find them rather fetching, you overgrown handbag."

The two female guardians squared their shoulders, tensed their muscles, and locked their eyes into hardened glares.

Each stood motionless, waiting for the other to make the first move. However, before either could strike first this impromptu standoff was interrupted. The heavy footfalls echoed as another made their way along the carpeted path.

"Is it not unfitting to belittle others for the same behaviors you display, Lady Yuliana?"

At the disruption, the two females were quick to forget about their territorial spat. Straightening up Yuliana and Lyleth turned to look upon the figure of the fae abomination. Mathias stood tall, his arms crossed and his head tilted.

Clearing her throat, the Guardian Overseer disengaged herself, moving away to join the Chief Attendant.

"You are correct, Mathias. I do despise lowering myself to such base levels," Yuliana eyed the fallen angel, "But it is the only means of communication some lesser creatures seem able to understand."

Again the fallen angel met the gaze of the naga with her own equally sharp-eyed glare. Promptly Mathias grunted softly interceding before the pair could begin again.

Returning to the Throne Room, the fae abomination parted company with the two women. With a partial bow, the canine-skulled being strode across the open floor and back to the dais at its center.

With a truce called for the time being, Lyleth and Yuliana went their separate ways. Parting with a dejected hmmph.

While the Fourth Floor Guardian sought out the company of the Valkyries. The Guardian Overseer had a different goal. Crossing the sapphire floor of the chamber, Yuliana approached the Fifth Floor Guardian who was engaged in conversation with the Premier Diviner.

"Koraboros, Nido," Yuliana greeted the pair, receiving a nod of acknowledgment, "If I may ask, are either of you discussing how we might carry out the task the master has assigned."

Nido blinked his singular blue eye and nodded, "Indeed, we have been conversing on the matter most thoroughly. As the master has decreed, I shall begin to survey the lands that surround the mountain. And should I discover any signs of habitation I will pass along the information to Koraboros."

"And once I have the information in hand, I will dispatch a selection of minions to conduct a thorough investigation of the location. The units will consist of creatures that specialize in stealth. Beings such as Shadow Demons, Mimics, and others of that ilk. This will allow us to maximize efficiency by not having to waste time or resources on random searches."

"And what plans do you have in mind for the defense of the mountain itself?" The resolute voice of the armoured Seraphim interjected.

The trio turned to face the new arrival.

"For the time being, I suggest we continue operating under the high alert status. At least until a more in-depth measure of our surroundings is taken and the full extent of our resources is known."

"The wisdom of your words rings true," Aeon nodded to his karmic opposite, "I must concur. One cannot conduct a battle without an understanding of their own capabilities. And only a fool would do battle in unknown terrain."

"Very well, for now, we shall continue operating under high alert."

"Excuse me, my lady, if my presence is no longer necessary, I believe I shall like to return to the Orrery and begin preparations for the divination."

Nido bowed to his compatriots receiving an acknowledging nod from each in turn before he left the group.

After the departure of the Premier Diviner, the three remained to carry on the conversation. For some time before separating.

Following Nido's example, Koraboros was the next to split off to soon be joined by the Fourth Floor Guardian. After the infernal pair, it was the angelic duo of Aeon and Naziah who were the next to leave for their respective floors.

As Yuliana watched the others go, she was soon approached by a familiar pair of wolven brothers.

The siblings carried themselves with the same bearing as before. Their shoulders were hunched, heads lowered and canine ears folded flat. On their faces, a morose expression was mirrored on each of their features.

"Lady Yuliana."

It was Romulus who addressed the Guardian Overseer, his voice low and soft. As he spoke the younger brother held himself in a deep bow. His eyes aimed squarely at the sapphire tile beneath her feet.

"We wish to express regret for our atrocious behavior. You were correct to expose how shameful and unworthy it was of one entrusted by the Creators to guard their realms."

Yuliana stood unmoved before the pair, her thoughts hidden behind a mask of impassivity. No sooner had Romulus finished speaking than her gaze shifted to the elder brother.

Remus stood upright with his head held low, mimicking his brother's show of respect.

"Yeah, my brother's right."

The lax brother's tone was one of sincerity as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry for egging him on like that. It's just that he makes it so difficult sometimes. What with his prim and proper attitude," the last remark earned a glare from the younger twin. "But you're both right, I made an ass of myself. And in front of Lord Tiberius too."

The shaggy-haired wolfman let out a groan.

"Geez, you don't think he's really mad, do you?"

Standing before them, the Guardian Overseer remained outwardly expressionless as she weighed the twin's plea. Perhaps she did so to perpetuate the emotional turmoil the brothers felt. Only when she'd thought it had gone on long enough did she finally speak.

"That such behavior happened at all was inexcusable and will not be tolerated within these walls. Ever!" Yuliana crossed her arms, making a show of her displeasure with the topic, "However, I am glad to see that the two of you have returned to your senses. Yet I cannot speak as to the master's state of mind on the issue. For that, you will have to take that up with him yourselves. But as far as I am concerned, you are forgiven. Perhaps this will serve as a lesson for the two of you."

For their part, Romulus and Remus continued to stand under the scrutinizing gaze of the Guardian Overseer.

"See I told you, bro," the elder twin turned, a wide smile on his face, "We aren't going to be banished or whatever it was you were blathering about."

While the news seemed to delight the pair, it was however short-lived.

"Not so fast you two," the Guardian Overseer interrupted, "Just because you have been forgiven does not mean you are escaping without punishment."

The brother's wolven ears again folded flat atop their skulls. Tentatively the two lifted their gaze, only to have a severe feeling of dread descended over them as a cruel smile crested her lips.

o – o – o – o

The door shut with a click behind the dragonoid.

This time he did so without issue as he remembered to get the entirety of his tail through the threshold this time.

Once again within the confines of his abode on the Ninth Floor, Tiberius felt his energy flee from him. Feeling utterly drained, he collapsed back against the wooden barricade. It felt like a tremendous weight was pressing down on him, pushing him into a vat of tar and every movement seemed only to sap more of his strength.

As he pressed his back against the door, Tiberius reflected on the events of the Throne Room.

I haven't been that nervous since my days as an intern. I hope I didn't screw anything up with that impromptu speech. I just wanted to put their minds at ease and make a show of leadership. I mean it always worked back in the office for lifting the team's spirits.

Reflecting on that moment, Tiberius recalled the words of praise the NPCs had heaped upon him. Perhaps the idea had worked and he had lifted their spirits, maybe a little too much. If anything it had certainly made him feel better at the time.

But such invigoration only lasts so long.

No sooner he had set foot on the Ninth Floor than he felt his energy begin to slip from him. Currently, the dragonoid felt as though he could just collapse and sleep here by the door. It wouldn't have been the first time.

Gods above I am so tired.

The idea of sleep was an appealing one, he knew doing so would only mean waking with many an ache.

Wearily the dragonoid rose from the floor and with a slow stride began to make the journey to the bedroom. Reaching the bedroom, he stood at the threshold eyeing the oversized and plush bed with an innate desire.

He was stopped mid-stride by the clank of the armoured plates that adorned his body. Pulling his gaze away from the beckoning slice of pillowy heaven. Inclining his head, Tiberius now glared at the offending metal suit.

Damn it! There's no way I'll be able to sleep in this getup.

Changing trajectory, the dragonoid strode to the mirrored nook. For the second this day, his flame-coloured took in the fullness of his reflected self.

With agitation, the dragonoid's eyes wandered over the elaborate collection of metallic plating that guarded his form. Their removal looked to be a tedious chore but it was a doable one. It was just a matter of unfastening the various straps that held the armoured shell together. However, as he examined the task at hand, Tiberius noted the one feature that would prove a hindrance.

His wings.

How am I supposed to get this gear off with those in the way?! It's not like they mattered back in YGGDRASIL. All I had to do was deselect the armour in my inventory to swap it. I mean those wings were basically cosmetic. Hell, I could even toggle them off.

So it was that if Tiberius wished to reach his goal of blissful slumber. He would first have to devise a means of circumventing the wings dilemma. However, as he thought about the problem, nothing short of chopping off his wings or somehow cutting the cuirass off would work.

"Argh," the dragonoid gave a long frustrated groan, "I wish I could just make these blasted things disappear."

It was then as if reacting to his words a curious sensation began to come over him.

At first, it began as a faint tingle, a strange sensation coursing through his membraned appendages. It was an irritating feeling that Tiberius attempted to shake off, but then he caught a glimpse of the mirror's reflection. His wings… they seemed different, somehow smaller.

As he kept his affixed to the mirror, an alarming sight unfolded before him. The wings that had once been a prominent part of him began to shrink right before his eyes. It was as though their essence was being stripped away.

Muscles withered, flesh dissolved, and bones appeared to simply vanish into thin air. Disappearing inch by inch, the once glorious expanse of his wings diminished, leaving only skeletal remnants jutting out from his back. He watched in disbelief as the once-mighty appendages were reduced to mere nubs, and finally, they faded from existence altogether.

Dumbfounded and slack-jawed, Tiberius could only stare at the mirror, trying to process what it was he had just witnessed. In a desperate attempt to confirm the reality of the situation, he reached behind his shoulder blade, expecting the familiar touch of his wings. Instead, he encountered nothing but smooth metal. This shock of transformation left him speechless and struggling to understand the inexplicable change that had just occurred.

In a frantic frenzy, he spun around, desperately examining his back from every conceivable angle. Time seemed to blur as he obsessively checked, over and over again, oblivious to its passing. Was it mere moments that slipped by, or had it been minutes? It felt like an eternity. The answer eluded him, lost in the whirlwind of emotions and disbelief that engulfed his mind.

Whatever the timetable, it didn't matter.

No, what mattered was the fact that a part of him was now gone and he had no explanation. Then as if to add another layer to this mystery was the reconstitution of his cuirass backplate. Gone were there strategically cut openings, placed there for the allowance of his wings, and now there was not even a blemish on the polished star silver plate.

Several times he ran his hands over the backplate just to ensure his eyes were not deceived by an illusion.

H-h-how… What the hell just happened?! Where are my wings? Does this mean… that maybe gameplay features carried over from YGGDRASIL?

As the dragonoid considered those words, it seemed as likely an explanation as any.

Back in YGGDRASIL, appendages such as wings, tails, and the more exaggeratedly ornate sets of horns could be toggled on or off for the sake of appearance. After all, who wanted to see their character's horns clipping through a cool new helm? Or a set of wings, or tail, interfering with the look of that new armour set.

Maybe whatever had just happened was this reality's way of interpreting this game mechanic. As unsettling as it was.

But this only created new questions to be answered.

The chief amongst them was this. If his wings could be sent away, could they be again brought back?

As if in response to Tiberius' pondering, he received his answer.

First came the rending of the armour, metal peeling back to reveal the sprouting buds of his wings. Like saplings, they grew from the flesh of his shoulders. Lengthening and widening the appendages stretched out as the flesh was molded to form. Bones and muscles sculpted as leathery membranes connected the wing's digits.

Instinctively Tiberius unfurled the newly regrown wings. Or at least as far as the confines of the limited space would allow.

Impulses were sent the muscles moved and his wings flapped. Within the space of the nook, he could feel the strong gusts that even small movements produced.

So I guess this means my wings are, retractable? And if this still works, then I wonder what else still works.

It was an interesting idea.

In YGGDRASIL, there were three racial classes: Humanoid, Demi-Human, and Heteromorphic.

Humanoids were the choice for the overwhelming majority of players. Of this racial archetype were the humans -obviously-, the elves, and the dwarves. Along with the different subtypes of each.

Demi-humans came next in popularity. These consisted of the various near-human types such as the goblins, Giants, Ogres, and others. Alongside these were the numerous beastkin races with creatures like Kobolds, Lizardmen, Merfolk, Minotaurs, Nagas, Centaurs, and all the others.

Then there was the final class, heteromorphic. These were the least human of all the available races for a player to choose from.

As such, they were most often deemed Monstrous Races by players. Things like Golems and Half-Golems, Dryads, Lycanthropes, Doppelgangers, dragonoids, the Fae, and an odd variety of insectoid races. There was also the undead, who seemed to have more popularity amongst players than the other monstrous races with the most common choices being the liches and vampires.

The reason for their low prevalence was perhaps the fact that Heteromorphics was hampered early in the game. Despite typically having some of the highest endgame stats which Heteromorphs achieved through their racial levels. This meant they sacrificed valuable XP to increase their racial levels. While others could focus instead on increasing the levels of their job classes.

Humanoids lacked racial levels entirely and were sometimes given a starting bonus. Some members of the Demi-Human races would have one or two racial levels. However, heteromorphic races stereotypically had a minimum of three evolutionary stages. Investing XP in these racial levels would reward players with unique abilities and new appearances for the player's avatar.

One such of these special abilities was the capacity to transform into a human form. As luck would have it, dragonoid was one such race that could gain this.

Once more, he was enveloped by the warm embrace of memory, transported back to the very beginning of his adventures in the virtual realm of YGGDRASIL. The nostalgia washed over him as he recalled the moment he had first brought to life the character of Tiberius.

Ostensibly in response, the air around him appeared to visibly ripple, as if the very atmosphere had become charged with memory. The temperature seemed to escalate as if a hidden fire had been ignited, and the heat-induced haze thickened. Condensing as the air swirled about him until it completely obscured his form. Yet, despite the obscuring fog, the mirrored reflection of his body remained visible, outlined as a faint silhouette.

As the haze dissipated, the dragonoid's towering form underwent a mesmerizing transformation. Gradually, his imposing stature diminished, shrinking almost two feet in height, and his once bulky frame grew leaner and more slender.

With the vanishing murkiness, the mirror unveiled the outcome of this magical metamorphosis. No longer did the reflection show the imposing eight-foot-tall figure of the draconic being. Instead, a different face gazed back at him from the glass.

Staring out from the mirrored glass was a human face. Standing tall, close to six and a half feet, with a visage that suggested them being in their late twenties. His features were undeniably handsome, with a clean-shaven face boasting slim symmetry, thin lips, defined cheekbones, and a rugged jawline. A shaggy mane of dark brown hair crowned his head, its feathered styling falling just short of reaching his shoulders. But what stood out most was the transformation of his once fiery, blazing eyes, now replaced by a pair of cool, steely blue orbs that gazed back at him with an intense stare.

As he marveled at his new appearance, Tiberius had only just taken notice that even the armour he wore had adapted to fit his smaller frame, surprising him with its perfect adjustment. Beneath the armour, he could still feel the strength of his lean musculature, a reminder of the powerful being he once was.

Cool, so it is possible. Well, at least now if we do find anyone out there I can blend in. And it looks like my armour changes with me. That's good, I'd hate to be stuck with gear I can't use because it doesn't fit.

However, in looking at his now human reflection, a peculiar sensation overcame Tiberius, leaving him with a mix of emotions.

While it felt truly bizarre to see himself in a human form that looked so different from his original self, the one he'd left back on Earth. Still, though, one would have thought that the mere fact that he could again become human would be cause for joy.

Instead, in place of such an emotion he was experiencing something else. An intense sense of falseness, as if he was looking at a mere imitation of his true identity. It was odd, almost as if the whole idea of being human now seemed alien.

This inexplicable feeling lingered on, vexing him as he tried to grasp at its source.

It was like some invisible barrier preventing him from fully embracing this human guise. To apply an analogy, he likened it to wearing an ill-fitted mask, suffocating and constricting, hiding the true essence of who he was. The façade, this human form, no longer felt like a genuine representation of his identity.

As such, it was not lost on Tiberius that this sensation had only now arisen, when he had assumed this altered form. While throughout the time, albeit brief in the grand scheme, he had worn the draconic form, not once had such a sensation come into him. In fact, it could be said that it felt the most natural.

As soon as thoughts of his golden-scaled body crossed his mind, the veil of haze returned to shroud him in its ethereal embrace. It seemed that the mere contemplation of his physical appearance was enough to act as the trigger and begin the metamorphosis.

In a swift succession of moments, the changes from before were reversed, and he found himself fully restored to his dragonoid visage. As the spectral mists dissipated, Tiberius stood once again, gazing at the regal and powerful reptilian features that truly defined him. With it came a sense of contentment and ease that soothed him, reinforcing the affirmation that this was where he rightly belonged.

Although the excitement lingered with the results of his little experiment. It, unfortunately, did not alleviate the issue that had started this all.

A forlorn exhale and Tiberius again turned his attention back to his armoured shell.

He studied the armour's layout and its interconnectivity. The unfamiliarity of it made it seem daunting at the beginning, but quickly he grasped how to go about the task. With each buckle undone, a sense of progress filled him. His hands moved with precision, deftly releasing one strap after another, each a small victory. The metallic clinks and soft thuds as each piece removed was tossed onto the oversized mattress not far away.

If I had known, I'd be doing this by hand one day I would've installed a quick-change option in this armour.

Pausing in his task momentarily, he eyed the segment of the armour which he held in his scaled hands.

I wonder if I still can. The whole mountain is here, so that would mean that everything in it is here too. I wonder if the data crystals still work. He shrugged. I guess that's something to look into later.

As the final piece of armour was set aside amongst the rest, he felt relieved to be rid of that metal casing. It became just a matter of the removal of the clothing worn beneath the armour.

He started by shedding the quilted dark blue gambeson, a rugged and protective coat made from many layers of cloth. Next, it was the V-neck tunic, loosely fitted to even his large frame, it seemed to shimmer in the ambient light. To his recollection, the garment was said to have been woven from mithril threads so fine that it behaved more like cloth than a solid material.

With a mischievous grin, Tiberius grasped the lower portion of the shirt and tugged it free from the confines of his trousers' waistband. As the fabric was liberated, he felt a surge of anticipation. It was time to discover just what awaited him. Holding the metallic fabric tightly, he triumphantly pulled the garb upwards and cleanly over his head.

But circumstance had other plans, and things didn't unfold as he had envisioned.

As he drew upwards on the metallic cloth of the shirt, an unexpected snag occurred. The fabric bunched up under his now elongated chin and stubbornly clung to his horns. The anticipated unveiling turned into an awkward and comical mishap, leaving Tiberius with his head unexpectedly yanked backward and the shirt turned inside out.

Cursing his ill luck, he struggled to free his draconic head from the confines of the misbehaving garment. It seemed the universe was having a good laugh at his expense. Finally managing to extricate himself from the inverted shirt, Tiberius couldn't help but toss it aside with an irritated huff, as if it were to blame for the amusing debacle.

The dragonoid's attention now shifted to the lower garment – a pair of dragon leather trousers. These pants were no ordinary apparel; they were specifically tailored to him, accommodating his unique form with a cleverly designed tail sleeve. The tail sleeve, akin to the waistband, featured an adjustable drawstring crisscrossing its top, allowing him to customize the fit to his liking.

With a simple tug on either set of drawstrings, the pants' hold on him immediately slacken. Setting his hands on his hips, Tiberius hooked his thumbs under the waistband. The genius of the design revealed itself as his legs, now in their formidable and animalistic configuration, slipped effortlessly through the roomy pant legs.

Tiberius couldn't help but be impressed by the thoughtfulness put into every detail of his outfit. It seemed the developers rather unintentionally put more thoughtfulness into their designs for YGGDRASIL's various items.

I'm glad those devs paid such attention to detail.

Then with a graceful flick of his lengthy tail, the last barrier was overcome, and the pants joined the shirt on the floor.

Now fully liberated, the dragonoid stood before a mirror, able to gaze upon his body without any hindrance. It was only a basic pair of undergarments that remained, hugging his pelvis, but it was inconsequential to him now. His eyes traced the lines of his imposing draconic visage, and a thrill surged through his being. There, in all its glory, was the reflection of the formidable creature he had become. The pride and wonder in his eyes were undeniable as he basked in the awe-inspiring sight before him.

His flesh shimmered with a mesmerizing display of dark golden scales, as his eyes traced the outlines of the scales that adorned him like regal armour.

Yet, what made him even more captivating were the pale silver-tinged scales that flowed like a river of moonlight. Starting from the underside of his powerful jaws, they continued their journey down his throat, tracing a path along his abdomen, and then cascading towards his inner thighs. These scales created a stunning contrast against the dark gold, adding a touch of ethereal to his majestic appearance.

With a graceful pivot, Tiberius turned to inspect the mesmerizing scales adorning his broad back. They were a sight to behold – large and ridged, reminiscent of the formidable scutes found on the backs of crocodilians. These distinctive ridges started from the back of his skull, near the base of his imposing horns, and traced a path along the entire length of his back. As the ridges continued down towards his lengthy tail, they stylishly merged, creating a singular row that accentuated the stately line of his spine.

In the bedroom's soft light, the dragonoid's scaly hide glistened like a coat of golden treasure. Its thickness and rigidity were a testament to the resilience of a creature he'd become. Beneath this protective layer, cords of sinewy muscle rippled, revealing the sheer strength that coursed through him.

Tiberius couldn't tear his eyes away as he marveled at the reflection. His arms were now a sight to behold, with upper arms so thick they rivaled the size of his once-human legs. But it wasn't just his arms that fascinated him. His pectorals were broad and powerful, his abdominals sharply defined like a sculptor's masterpiece. The muscles of his neck, shoulders, and back were now robust and capable, enhancing his imposing presence.

In a state of captivation, he witnessed the mesmerizing display of his muscles in motion. As he flexed his biceps, a newfound sense of pride swelled within him. It was a sensation he had only witnessed in others through various media, but now he owned it – this strength.

Placing his hands on his hips, the dragonoid assumed a stance that radiated confidence. With a deliberate focus, he tightened his abs and pectorals, savoring the feeling of tension coursing through his entire being. He felt invincible, ready to take on whatever challenges the world threw at him.

Unable to resist the lure of vanity over his newfound physique as he stood before the mirror. Tiberius struck a new pose, one which embodied the essence of athletes and bodybuilders he had seen in various media. Scales gleamed like precious gems, and his muscles bulged with power, a testament to his newfound prowess. In that moment of self-appreciation, the draw of his own strength and grace was undeniable, and a smug grin danced on his reptilian muzzle. Each flex of his biceps, each tightening of his abs, fueled his growing sense of pride.

"Whoa, damn! This is unreal! I never could have imagined I'd ever become this incredibly ripped. I feel like a powerhouse! I bet taking on a full-security team would be a piece of cake!"

Amidst his self-aggrandizing display of strutting and posing, the dragonoid's focus was inevitably drawn to the final piece of his wardrobe. Abandoning the extravagant poses he settled into a more relaxed stance. Placing his hands on his hips, a mix of curiosity and apprehension swirled within him.

Despite the profound transformation, he felt fortunate that his new body bore some resemblance to his former self. Still, one aspect remained a mystery, and he couldn't help but wonder how drastic the changes might have been in that particular area behind that thin-cloth barrier. The temptation of discovering the full extent of his transformation beckoned him, yet the hint of hesitation that lingered in his mind stayed his hand.

His heart raced with conflicting emotions, torn between his desire for self-discovery and the fear of facing the unknown. What if the truth concealed behind that fabric shattered his expectations or led to unforeseen consequences?

Suppressing the urge to quench his curiosity, he decided to let go of the thoughts for now. With a deep breath, he released his grip on his hips and turned away from the mirrors, deliberately leaving that particular enigma untouched for the time being. There were more pressing matters at hand, and he knew that some mysteries were best left to reveal themselves in due course.

Leaving the excitement of the moment behind, Tiberius wearily trudged his way toward the inviting bed. The distance felt like an eternity, but the promise of rest kept him going.

Reaching the edge of the mattress, and without a second thought, he flung himself onto the massive cushion, surrendering to its pillowy embrace. The impact was glorious as his substantial frame sank into the luxurious softness, cocooned in pure comfort.

Back on Earth, he, like countless others, had grown accustomed to the standard flat-pack mattress – a sad excuse for comfort, resembling sleeping on a stone block more than anything else. The stark contrast between that and what he experienced now was staggering.

This new mattress was a revelation, a world of comfort he had never known. It felt as though he was floating on the fluffiest cloud ever to grace the sky, each fiber welcoming him with warmth and support. Tiberius couldn't help but relish the sensation, the perfect respite after the challenges of the day.

With a sigh of contentment, he nestled deeper into the plush haven, feeling cradled and embraced like never before. This was the epitome of luxury, and he realized that from now on, his rest would be in the arms of this cloud-like paradise.

Rolling over, he lay his head atop one of the many pillows, and with an outstretched arm, he groped blindly for one of the many furred pelts. Taking one in hand, he was quick to drag it over the top of himself.

One would be forgiven for believing that sleep would be an easy commodity to come across. That through a combination of exhaustion and the warm softness embracing him he could find slumber. Yet he could not.

For as he lay there alone under the dim glow of the mage lights with nothing but his thoughts for company. New and pervasive thoughts crept from the depths and into the forefront of his mind.

Was he dead?

Had something happened to him? Had he been murdered in his apartment? Perhaps he had suffered from a sort of deadly health complication - a heart attack maybe, as he lay there connected to his neural interface. Was it possible that this was some kind of afterlife? A reward, gifted to him by some cosmic being to enjoy?

Or since magic apparently existed within this world, had some sort of spell been involved in this? Had some wizard or something cast a spell and brought him to this world? And if so, just what purpose could they have had for it?

What if it was an accident and they hadn't meant to bring him here? If not then, could they send him back?

This led Tiberius to wonder, was his apartment now sitting vacant since the transference? Or had it only been his mind that had been brought over to his world and his body was left lying there in a coma or something?

Just how long would it take for anyone at work to notice the absence? However, being in the echelons of management was cutthroat. There would be no shortage of coworkers who would take advantage and make a play for his position. As such, it was doubtful his position would be left vacant for long.

In the meantime, would his body just be left alone in his apartment? Could his body die before it was found and if that happened just what did that mean for him?

There were so many variables that it made his head spin. But there was one that stuck out above the others and it was this. What if he hadn't really been abducted or transferred? What if he had merely been cloned?

Could it be that his mind had been copied into this exacting duplicate of his YGGDRASIL avatar? Was it possible that all this was real and happening while his true human self was back on earth, living his life completely unaware of any of this?

Possibly this was the reason for his comfort in his new reptilian body.

Thinking about it the dragonoid could just envision it.

YGGDRASIL's servers had shut down as scheduled while he had slept through it. While whatever force was at work here had gotten started. Making a clone of his mind, his character, and the guild before replicating them here. In the interim, his original self would awake from his brief nap and find himself still connected to the neural net rig. He'd disconnect and take a moment to tidy up before going off to bed. Then the morning would come and he'd go about his daily routine of living.

If this were true, what did this mean for him?

Was he truly an individual? Or merely a copy? Did he have a soul, or was he just a vessel for the implanted memories? A being created by some unknown means for an equally unknown purpose.

The more Tiberius contemplated it, the more his mind reeled. Only for this to be compounded by the lack of answers for any of these dilemmas that plagued him so terribly.

With everything else aside, there were two things Tiberius was certain of.

Firstly, there would be no answers forthcoming anytime soon. Secondly, sleep would not come easy to him this night.

o – o – o – o

With a mighty yawn, the dragonoid began to rouse himself from the clutches of sleep. Eyelids fluttered and opened as flame-coloured eyes scanned the room around him. Lifting his arm, he gently rubbed away the last remnants of slumber, feeling the warmth of his touch dispel the drowsiness. The world came into focus as he reconnected with reality.

In the first moments of awakening, Tiberius found himself grappling with a sense of confusion, trying to piece together his surroundings and regain his bearings. However, as the fog of slumber gradually lifted, the memory of his current situation came rushing back to him.

The night had come and gone in the blink of an eye it seemed.

Nestled within the comforting cocoon of his cloudlike mattress, the mere thought of parting ways with it felt like tearing off a bandage from a tender wound.

But as much as he longed to stay in this state of tranquil bliss, a more urgent desire surged within him, overpowering all else. It was a primal instinct, a call that he had experienced every morning of his waking life.

With little choice, Tiberius firmly gripped the blanketing pelt and cast it aside, yielding to the call of nature that demanded his attention.

Yet, as he rose, he couldn't help but become acutely aware of a lingering discomfort in the muscles of his neck. To soothe away the pain, he started to slowly stretch his neck from side to side, hoping to alleviate the tension that had settled there. His fingertips danced along the tightened muscles, gently massaging them in an effort to coax them into relaxation.

As Tiberius shifted into an upright position, he cast his gaze upon the once-luxurious pillow that had cradled his head during slumber. The once-plush pillow was now flattened and bore a clear divet in its once cushiony stuffing.

The realization struck him like lightning – this lack of support was the root cause of the discomfort that now afflicted him.

If the dragonoid were to speculate, it seemed that his nocturnal movements had inadvertently shifted the pillow stuffing, robbing it of any semblance of support. As a consequence, his majestic horns had unwittingly propped his head into an uncomfortable position, pressing his chin tightly to his chest and causing his neck muscles to protest.

Tiberius shot a fierce glare at the now deflated cushion, frustration bubbling within him. In a sudden burst of anger, he snatched the pillow with his formidable taloned fingers, feeling the padding give way beneath his grasp. With a primal growl of irritation, the dragonoid hurled the offending object across the room. The pillow soared through the air, its collision with the wall accompanied by a muffled thump before it finally settled on the floor below. It was a satisfying release of pent-up tension.

Ugh, I'm gonna need a better pillow. He again rubbed his neck. Or at least multiple pillows.

Free from the nagging distraction, the dragonoid felt the pressing urgency of his need. Swiftly rising from the bed, he exited the bedroom, making his way down the hallway toward the only other door in sight.

With a creak, the door opened, revealing the washroom within. In YGGDRASIL, this room served no practical purpose, but it was a quintessential addition to any well-designed abode. After all, what grand dwelling would be complete without a bathroom?

Stepping inside, he found the typical setup of a bathroom.

The lower half of the walls bore an earthy tone, adorned with slate grey tiles that seamlessly merged with the matching flooring. A sleek standalone sink graced one wall, a large oval mirror hanging above it, reflecting his dragon form. Not too far away, a latrine sat in its own nook, thankfully large enough to accommodate his formidable size. The dragonoid couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that such considerations had been made for his new form.

But the true marvel of the room was the large stone tub, surrounded by a polished wooden deck. Recessed into the floor, the tub looked more like a small pool than a mere washbasin.

With a hurried stride, the dragonoid closed the distance, reaching his destination. But he froze, eyes fixed on the fabric that clung to his hips, realizing that removing it would unveil the last mysteries of his transformed body. It was a pivotal moment, the final reveal that would bring to light the entirety of his new form.

Summoning courage, Tiberius took a deep breath and firmly gripped the waistband of the simple undergarment. Bending over, he began the process of shedding the last piece of clothing. Once free of the undergarment, he stood upright again, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through him. Inhaling deeply to steady himself, he then inclined his head, gazing down to acquaint himself with this new anatomy.

It came as no surprise that his genitals also bore the mark of his more bestial appearance. Like that of a canine or equine, his manhood was now encased in a scale-covered tube of flesh, forming an animalistic sheath. Though the change was undoubtedly peculiar, he felt a sense of relief to find his family jewels intact, protected within their scaled covering.

The sight was nothing short of bizarre, a stark contrast to what he had been accustomed to, causing a moment of mental disarray. Tiberius' mind seemed to freeze momentarily, unsure of how to process the novelty of his new anatomy.

Yet, in a stroke of luck, nature took the lead in guiding him where conscious thought faltered.

As internal pressure built up, the scaled flesh of the sheath gently relaxed, allowing his more intimate parts to slip free. With that obstacle resolved, he found himself in a familiar situation – just a matter of taking things in hand and ensuring a proper aim.

Having answered nature's call and feeling the immediate relief, the dragonoid now had the opportunity to conduct a more comprehensive self-examination. What he beheld was undeniably a stark departure from what he had been accustomed to seeing every single day of his life.

The sight was both intriguing and unfamiliar, a testament to the fantastical transfiguration he had undergone

The most striking change was the increase in size, close to twice the length of his original anatomy. But it wasn't just the length that had been augmented; the shape too had become quite distinctive. The shaft possessed a notable increase in girth, adorned with several ridges along the underside and a single dorsal ridge that traversed the length of the shaft, giving it a unique texture. The tip, in particular, caught his attention. Instead of the familiar blunt and rounded mushroom cap found among human males. The tip was now more streamlined, narrowed at the utmost end, and widened as one proceeded lower. Overall, it bore a resemblance to an arrowhead. A mingling of human and draconic natures, perhaps?

After the visual inspection, the dragonoid proceeded to the physical examination, though in truth, it amounted to little more than crude fondling. Not since his teenage years, when he first explored the wonders of puberty, had he felt this awkward with his own body.

Despite the discomfort, it was no surprise that his body responded in the expected way to the stimulation. After all, the physiological reaction was a natural response seemingly hardwired into archetypal male biology.

Primal instincts awoke and a new urge arose to make its presence known or felt as the case was. His heart rate and blood flow increased with the growing desires. A sensation that was centralized about his loins as the particular piece of flesh grew turgid, swelling with lust, and throbbing in time to the beat of his heart.

Intense heat crept across the entirety of his draconic visage. So hot was the embarrassment the dragonoid felt that he may yet burst into flames.

Yanking his hands away from the demanding appendage, Tiberius quickly abandoned his experimentation. Not since his sticky fumblings of youth had he been so utterly and thoroughly mortified.

Crossing his arms, the dragonoid directed his gaze elsewhere as he stood rigid in more than just his posture. He did his best to ignore the incessant throbbing and the beckoning siren's call to continue. Moments ticked by at a languished pace, but eventually, his efforts were rewarded.

The persistent urge began to fade and the rush of blood receded. Deprived of any further stimuli, this intimate appendage began to shrink. Returning to its flaccid state, slowly the length of pale flesh was retracted back within the confines of its scaly covering.

The dragonoid released a pent-up breath as his body sagged.

This is gonna take some getting used to. Though I guess it could be worse. I could've chosen to be one of those insect types. He shivered at the thought of what bizarrely unknown sight could've awaited him then. Or hell, what if I had done like DeMonst r and gone with a female avatar?

Tiberius turned his attention to the mirror above the sink and his reflection therein. For a moment he envisioned what he might have looked like as a female and then shook his head as if to clear the image.

That would have been too much, the veritable straw that broke the horse's back as it was. There would have been no way that he could have coped with the entirely different set of issues a sudden sex change would bring on.

Extending an arm his hand depressed the lever set on the porcelain throne and the air was filled with a familiar whooshing noise and the sound of running water.

If he were to follow his usual routine then he would have washed up after his pit stop. But seeing as this body was reptilian and not mammalian there were some benefits to this. As far as he was aware reptiles didn't sweat for one and possessing no hair meant he didn't have to worry about a case of bedhead or oily hair. Though this didn't mean he would be giving up bathing altogether, just for this morning Tiberius could make an exception.

Bending down, he retrieved his underwear before striding for the exit. Yet upon reaching the door he paused and turned back.

Wait a second, how does the plumbing even work?

Deciding this mystery was one that he could live with, the dragonoid shrugged and returned to the bedroom.

As the dragonoid re-entered the room, he sought out the clothing he had worn the night before. However, as his eyes roamed across the space, he couldn't help but notice a distinct lack of his clothes. His armour still sat where he had left it after removing it, but his other garments had inexplicably vanished.

Baffled by the situation, Tiberius approached his bed, determined to find any clue about the missing clothes. He pulled back the pelts and rearranged the pillows in an extensive search, yet no indication of their whereabouts revealed itself. The clothes seemed to have vanished without a trace.

Abandoning the search for his missing clothing, a fleeting thought crossed his mind – had one of the nymphs tidied up his room while he slept? After all, it was their designated task to handle the cleaning and maintenance of the guild member's rooms.

With no definitive answer one way or the other, Tiberius turned his attention towards the large wardrobe, realizing that he had no other choice but to find something to wear from there.

With a low creak, the ornate wooden doors of the wardrobe swung open wide, catching the dragonoid off guard. Instead of the expected shelves, a peculiar void awaited inside the cabinet. The sight of the black emptiness sent shivers down his spine, leaving Tiberius utterly perplexed and unable to look away.

As if guided by an unseen force, the dragonoid's hand extended tentatively, and his finger drew closer to the formless void. A tingle coursed through him, the sensation like static electricity dancing on his skin. In that moment, Tiberius felt a connection beyond the physical realm, a tantalizing hint that this wardrobe held far more than meets the eye.

But just as his finger brushed the border of the inky darkness, an opaque window suddenly materialized, filling his view. Startled by the abrupt appearance, the dragonoid instinctively drew back his hand, causing the window to vanish.

Curiosity persisted, and he cautiously extended his arm once more. Like a magical portal, the window reappeared. As he peered through the translucent barrier, he was met with a sight that instantly sparked recognition.

"A menu?"

Tentatively he reached forward and prodded the talon against the semitransparent menu. To his surprise, it felt surprisingly solid, emitting a glass-like sound as he tapped it. His eyes carefully scanned the information displayed before him.

The menu showcased an extensive inventory of all his equipment. Some of these items were familiar, while others brought back memories of his early days as an adventurer in YGGDRASIL, a time long past.

Tiberius repeatedly tapped the menu, scrolling through the vast registry of offerings. As much as he wanted to make a decision, the array of choices left him indecisive. Faced with the overwhelming options, he fell back on habit and selected something reminiscent of what he had used before.

As the dragonoid finalized his selection, the opaque screen and the void vanished, replaced by a set of wooden shelves. Upon them lay his chosen items, neatly folded and waiting for him.

With the garments in hand, Tiberius closed the wardrobe and began the process of getting dressed. It was a straightforward task, essentially a reverse of what he had done the night before. However, retying the drawstrings on the tail sleeve proved a bit annoying, and he had to rely on the aid of the mirror to get it just right.

In a short while, he stood fully dressed, his new attire fitting comfortably against his reptilian form.

Next came the daunting task of donning the armour.

Quickly Tiberius discovered that putting on the armour required considerably more time and effort than taking it off. The most frustrating part was having to hold some pieces in place while he fiddled with the straps and buckles. This led to multiple readjustments, as the fit was often either too loose or too tight, adding to his exasperation.

After a fair amount of time and patience, Tiberius finally managed to secure the final piece of his armour in place. With a sense of accomplishment, he strode across the room, positioning himself before the multiple mirrors in the adjacent nook. Standing tall before the looking-glass, he meticulously examined himself, ensuring that each metal segment was in its proper place.

Beyond just aesthetics, his primary concern was ensuring comfort while in motion. As a warrior, flexibility, and mobility in armour were crucial in his ventures. Satisfied with the final adjustments would provide both protection and the freedom to maneuver with grace and ease.

Exiting the bedroom, Tiberius strode his abode and toward the entrance. However, as he reached out to grab the doorknob, he found himself inexplicably coming to a sudden halt. A curious hesitation gripped him, pausing him in his tracks.

It felt as if he was forgetting something and it held him there.

Turning back the dragonoid surveyed the room about him, looking out for anything that might be out of place. In doing so his eyes were drawn to the west side of the room.

Drawn by a compulsion he couldn't quite explain Tiberius followed this intuition. He stopped only when he could go no further. So it was here he stood before the small alcove nestled in the sidewall. Sparkles of light reflected by the polearm floating within danced on his armour.

As he gazed at the guild weapon, it became clear that this was what called to him. Reaching out, Tiberius gently laid his fingers against the silvery wood of the haft, then took the polearm in hand.

At that moment the Dragon's Staff seemed to come to life.

The draconic runes carved into the surface of the shaft began to glow brightly as if white-hot. Bolts of electricity leaped from the crystal spike in an arc while others danced between the wing-formed dual axe heads. But more than that it was as if he could feel it.

An invigorating energy radiated through him like a warmth spreading from the guild weapon. Such were the levels that Tiberius felt he could run circles around the mountain without ever growing tired.

The Dragon's Staff was designed to boost the wielder's stats, so I guess that could explain the sudden rush. The dragonoid stared at the guild weapon. Or at least I hope that's what's causing it. Maybe I should put this thing to the test.

Lifting the guild weapon from its resting spot, Tiberius found it to be surprisingly light in his hand. The number of times the dragonoid had held the guild weapon in hand could be counted on a single hand. Out of those few times, only once had it been wielded as a weapon, the rest of the time had been done for ceremonial purposes.

Backing away from the niche, the Dragon's Staff in hand, he turned again to the door.

Outside the Norman Keep, the dragonoid inclined his head, squinting his eyes as he cast a glance at the virtual skybox. The artificial sun hung overhead casting its luminous glow across the Ninth Floor. Given its position, he estimated the time to be somewhere in the morning.

Definitely sometime before noon. Perfect, that leaves me plenty of time to experiment.

With a grin on his muzzle, Tiberius pivoted to face north and to the silhouette of the Grand Arena. His course decided upon, the dragonoid set forth on his trek across the Ninth Floor. The journey was accompanied only by the clacking of his claws and the clink of his armour.

o – o – o – o

The speckled granite walls of the Grand Arena loomed high overhead as Tiberius passed through the unassuming archway.

Inside the passageway was lit by conjured mage lights, their spectral forms casting a pale blue light along the length of the corridor. Within the wide hall, the normally soft rattle of the armour's plates was amplified. As was the clacking of his taloned toes on the stone floor to create a cacophony of echoing noise.

Together the two sounds made a sound like someone shaking a bag of coins while simultaneously tapping loudly.

At the far end of the passage, the brighter light of the outside arena shone. Filtering through the closed portcullis which left a checkered pattern upon the stone floor.

Reaching the sealed gate, Tiberius eyed the gridwork of dark iron bars. His eyes scanned the walls on either side of the shut gate finding nothing but smooth stone. No levers to pull, chains to yank, or any other discernable mechanism to open the way. He turned to study the floor before him and at his approach, there came a low rumbling.

The hall soon filled with the sounds of grinding gears and the rattling of chains. Then with a squeal of protest, the portcullis started to rise.

Should probably see about getting that oiled.

Stepping out into the open air, the dragonoid crossed the threshold and officially set foot in the remarkable Grand Arena.

The Grand Arena was a colossal U-shaped structure that stretched an impressive fifteen hundred feet from end to end and three hundred feet across. At the western end of the arena, a towering wall rose, and perched atop it was a magnificent statue of a phoenix, standing as tall as three men. The majestic bird was frozen in a pose of eternal grace, its head thrown back, and its feathered wings majestically flared outwards, as if calling out to the heavens.

In the heart of the arena, a low retaining wall traversed almost the full length of the show grounds, only stopping short on either end by a hundred feet. This dividing wall not only served a functional purpose but also added to the grandeur of the arena's design. For decorative touches, with precisely placed breaks at even intervals, each marked by a splendid marble column. On top of each column, a bronze brazier held a magically created flame, casting a radiant glow that illuminated the vast expanse.

The Grand Arena featured seating only along the length of the north and south walls. The grandstands were simple in design consisting of long benches carved from the same marble as the arena itself. At regular intervals, a row of stairs divided the bleachers into distinct sections, allowing spectators easy access to their designated spots.

On the southern side of the arena, a line of luxurious box seats adorned the top of the grandstands. These extravagant boxes were reserved for the esteemed, higher-ranked guild members, affording them a privileged vantage point to witness the thrilling events unfolding below.

Though a mere virtual recreation, as it had been, this place had been a sight to behold. But standing now upon the soft earthen grounds and gazing out at the architectural wonder, as a tangible and realized manifestation, was truly spellbinding.

Gawking at the masterful handiwork of his guildmates had become a frequent occurrence lately, and with every passing moment, he found himself appreciating their ingenuity and artistry even more. The realization of this magnificent creation was a testament to the shared vision and collaborative efforts of his guild, and he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride and gratitude for being part of such an extraordinary group.

Emerging from the dimly lit corridor, Tiberius ventured further into the sandy showgrounds. His gaze was drawn westwards, where the purpose of his visit to this place awaited. Nestled near the base of the wall, beneath the statue of the roaring Phoenix, stood a group of six NPCs.

At first glance, one might mistake the unmoving figures for mere statues, placed there as decorative elements to enhance the ambiance of the audience area. However, these were no ordinary statues; they were Stone Golems, the esteemed caretakers of the arena.

Each golem stood an imposing seven feet tall, their bodies carved from rough-hewn granite. Their features were deliberately vague, accentuated by patches of moss and lichens that adorned their stony flesh, lending an ancient and weathered appearance. An eerie fluorescent glow of turquoise light emanated from the slight gaps in each of their joints, creating the illusion that their stone bodies were magically bound together.

Within a few short strides, the dragonoid stood before the group. Yet the stone figures remained idle, their nondescript faces expressionless as their empty eyes stared off into the distance.

The lack of acknowledgment was something he found to be mildly surprising, given his experiences with the other NPCs.

Huh? Well, they were given only basic command functions. So does that mean they're lifeless here? Or maybe they're just sleeping. Anyway, let's see now what were the commands.

The dragonoid paused for a moment to think.

"Retrieve practice targets."

The words echoed in the stillness of the arena and then the golems began to move. Coming to life, the stone figures stepped forwards and then turned. In unison they strode, their heavy footfalls thudding against the sandy floor. One by one the golems disappeared down a nearby tunnel beneath the grandstands.

A minute or two had passed before the dragonoid again heard their weighty footsteps echoing from the corridor.

It wasn't long before the six golems reemerged from the shadowy passage with their cargo. The arena caretakers moved in a two-by-two formation and tucked under each of their arms a scarecrow.

The dragonoid's head turned, following their movements as they strode past him.

The stone men marched to the center of the earthen arena grounds. There, the sextuplets split up, moving an equal distance from their fellows. Hefting one of the straw men from under their arms, the golems then thrust the wooden supports deep into the soft sands. The arena wardens spent a moment assuring that each was planted firmly and securely they moved off to plant the next target dummy.

Once all twelve of the scarecrows had been set up properly, the golems turned their backs upon the scarecrows. Then together the group trekked back to the original position to await further commands.

All through this display, Tiberius had looked on with appreciation for the impressive showcase of silent unity.

With the arena readied, the dragonoid turned away and strode out to stand before the waiting assembly of straw dummies. The scarecrows had been set out to form a semicircle with evenly spaced gaps between each.

Tiberius' draconic head moved in an arc, his fiery eyes tracing over the figures before him. Fingers flexed and his grip instinctively tightened on the shaft of the guild weapon.

However, while he knew what he wanted to do. The dragonoid, unfortunately, had no idea of how to achieve his goal.

"Best to start simply" was the thought that came to him.

So it was he started with simple swings of the polearm, moving it back and forth in arcing sweeps before him. This earned him nothing but an oddly satisfying whoosh with each swing.

From there Tiberius attempted to replicate the movements, his avatar had utilized in YGGDRASIL when using a polearm. Thrusts, sweeps, and overhead swings, nothing.

When those failed he tried a new technique, this time though he expanded his repertoire to include those performed by characters from other sources of media. He tried to twirl it like a baton before he spun with it while lifting it above his head. But this resulted only in him becoming dizzy and nearly tripping over his tail. The dragonoid even tried to copy a sort of dance he remembered seeing a character from one of the more popular magical girl anime.

The only outcome he received for his troubles was feeling utterly foolish. With each consecutive attempt, the dragonoid became more forceful and more frantic with his ever-growing aggravation.

It was only a matter of time but Tiberius was unable to deal with his mounting frustration.

"Ah, damn it!"

The dragonoid unleashed a vicious snarl, lifting the Dragon's Staff high into the air before plunging the faceted diamond tip at the base deep into the sandy earth.

"Damn it all!" Tiberius' words were barely discernable above the harsh growl that followed, "I have no clue what the hell I am doing. Is everything here going to be so damned difficult?"

The draconic creature paced before the vacant eyes of his straw-stuffed audience. The stamping of his feet left profound impressions on the sands. Which existed only for a short moment before the thrashing of his tail would strike and deform the earth, wiping it clean of tracks.

Back and forth he marched for several minutes on end. His angry gaze never leaving the guild weapon embedded in the arena floor.

The Dragon's Staff remained upright, if a little lopsided, the platinum surface of the haft gleamed under the false sun. The crystalline spearhead topper cast a kaleidoscope of shifting colours across the grounds below. While the cold gemstone eyes of the five-headed dragon stared back at him. Their once snarling mouths now seemed more like mocking grins.

A low chest-rumbling growl from the dragonoid was the only response to the unflinching golden figurine.

With each returning stride more of his frustration was bled out, yet it was an agonizingly slow process. His pacing and breathing slowed returning to a more customary stride.

Halting, Tiberius took a deep breath, held it, and then released it in a slow exhale.

With his fury brought down to a more manageable level, his mind cleared and he realized that acting on his anger would solve nothing. Reaching up the dragonoid pinched the bridge of his snout as he contemplated his next course of action.

As his eyelids parted, he was again forced to narrow them as a nagging glint caught his eye.

Drawing his hand away from his muzzle, he looked to the source. It was a refraction of the light from one of the many facets that belonged to the fiery gemstone held in the mouth of the serpentine dragon of his guild ring. As he gazed at the gold band wrapped around his finger an idea formed in his mind.

Start with something simple.

Within YGGDRASIL, the Staff of the Dragon was a summonable object when in close proximity to the Guild Master.

Tiberius turned abruptly, straightened his posture, and squared his shoulders as he stared down the uncooperative polearm. He narrowed his gaze, focusing solely on the staff, and stretched out his right arm. As moments ticked by and as nothing continued to happen, he again felt his temper flaring. However, this time Tiberius steeled himself against its pull.

This was a trial of mental fortitude and the dragonoid was determined that he would not fail again.

The staff twitched.

The movement was subtle and Tiberius couldn't be sure it wasn't a trick of the light and his own desires. But it happened again.

The polearm rattled and shook. Then slowly the Dragon's Staff freed itself from the earthen hold and rose into the air. There it hovered motionless a foot or so above the ground.

Then quick as lightning, the guild weapon flew across the arena grounds.

Seeing the polearm hurtling toward him, Tiberius had to fight back the urge to flinch. Yet he stood steadfast, arm outstretched with hand open ready to receive. Then he felt it, the feel of the smooth silvery wood brush against his golden-scaled palm, and his grip snapped shut like a bear trap.

A wide smile crept over his tooth-filled snout at the sight of the Dragon's Staff displayed proudly within his grasp.

"Well, that's a start."

Turning his gaze back to the gathered scarecrows, he toward them with a clear purpose. Their unchanging faces stared back at him as if to challenge his dominance.

It was a challenge that the dragonoid accepted. He'd learned from his mistakes and this time things were going to be different.

He'd been overcomplicating the issue. But now he was done with overthinking and had decided to instead let his instincts act as his guide.

Tiberius shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his tail wavered behind him, and his grip on the guild weapon reflexively tensed. A comforting warmth filled his hand as if the Dragon's Staff was trying to reassure him. Bolts of electricity danced along the length of the shaft of the weapon. While larger, more powerful bolts arced from the spearhead.

Singling out one scarecrow amongst the group, it became the sole object of his focus. In doing so he could feel an odd connection between himself and the staff in his grasp. Perhaps it had something to do with that warmth he'd felt when he'd taken it in hand.

Acting on instinct, the dragonoid continued to hold the stare of his opponent. Then in a single fluid motion thrust the polearm in hand toward the chosen target.

At the apex of the thrust, a bolt of power leaped from the weapon's crystal spear tip.

There was a brilliant flash as the lightning bolt struck the straw man squarely in the chest. On impact, many smaller arcs were unleashed, erupting from the dummy's limbs to create tiny weblike patterns that lit up the immediate area. Within moments the target's wooden flesh crackled and blackened. Streaks of glowing embers spread across the surface like veins. Unable to contain this sudden influx of power that surged through its body leaving but one outcome.

Then it happened, there came a thunderous bang that echoed through the arena. What was once a humanoid figure made of straw and wood had become a shower of charred splinters and burning straw.

As the debris rained down upon the arena grounds, Tiberius was filled with a thereto unimagined delight.

"YES!"

The dragonoid howled in triumph as he hoisted the guild weapon high overhead as if offering it up to the sky.

In that moment of destruction, all of the frustration over the previous failures evaporated like so many a water drop under the sun. He was left now with only the pure unmitigated joy that only success could bring as it coursed through his veins.

Riding high on this wave of euphoria the dragonoid wasn't able to control himself. He shifted, now aiming for the closest of the targets. Again he repeated his earlier action and lunged with the guild weapon.

Just as before, a great bolt shot forth from the crystal to strike its mark.

The scarecrow shuddered violently and began to smoke as the straw and wood were caught ablaze. Soon after the air of the Grand Arena shook with another tremendous clap of thunder as the second dummy was transformed into naught but scattered fragments.

The dragonoid looked on with the seemingly ever-present toothy grin plastered on his muzzle.

Lowering his arm, he returned the guild weapon to his side. Gently, he placed the staff's pointed tip on the sands beneath his feet as his thoughts then turned to other things.

"I wonder if my spells and abilities still work too?"

However, gaining access to these abilities may be a more difficult prospect than utilizing the powers of the guild weapon. The task had been hard enough with getting the staff to work. But therein lay the difference, these were powers that lay dormant within him, and he didn't exactly know much about this new body of his.

By comparison, the operation of his guild ring or the Dragon's Staff was a straightforward matter. To accomplish this new goal, Tiberius had little idea of how to achieve this.

Inclining his head, Tiberius idly thumbed his lower jaw in thought.

"I mean I was able to use my transformation ability. Although admittedly it was by sheer accident. So it would stand to reason that I should also be able to use magic and such. Right?"

Coming from this thought, the dragonoid spared a quick glance about the arena as if he might receive an answer from some hitherto unseen spectator.

"So what if I?" Tiberius shook his head, "No, no more overthinking. Just gotta relax and feel it out, let my instincts guide me."

His hand fell away from the haft of the guild weapon. Despite being released from his grip, the Dragon's Staff's innate magic allowed the staff to remain balanced on that impossibly fine point upon the sand.

Tiberius shifted his attention to the target dummy nearest him.

He focused his eyes on the target and his field of view seemed to shrink. Narrowing as the rest of the world fell away until only the dummy remained. Within his mind's eye, it was as if a crosshair had been superimposed upon the straw man. With such a fine focal point came a new sensation.

A rush of knowledge was streamed into his consciousness as if the contents of some sight unseen menu were being fed into his mind. Every innate ability, his skills, and even the myriad of spells were waiting at his veritable fingertips. Selecting any one of them was as easy as choosing one from a menu.

In making his choice, he was subsumed in an avalanche of information. From things like a spell's effective range, the area in which it would have an effect, and its cost in MP. To the drain a specific ability would place upon his stamina as well as the amount of time until the ability could be used again.

It was an experience so far removed from how things were done back in YGGDRASIL. Within the game, he had to make do with basic text boxes to convey such information to him. While spell or ability selections would be done through a series of menus and submenus.

It was a cold and detached affair, sort of like choosing something from a vending machine.

While this was an extension of himself. Not merely a collection of inputs he'd selected and watched as it played out as animation. Even with all its sophistication, there was nothing in YGGDRASIL that could compare to this.

What followed that knowledge was a surge of power. It coursed through him to fill out every fiber of his being.

The dragonoid lifted his muzzle toward the artificial sky as he slowly began to draw in air. Deep within the sudden intake of air fanned the flames of his core as he felt the growing heat. As he continued to draw breath, it felt to Tiberius as if his chest had doubled in size and was continuing to expand.

Then the moment came.

Like the snapping of a rubber band that draconic head sprang forwards, his jaws parting during the swift movement.

From the depths of the dragonoid's throat, an amber glow began to rise. Wisps of flame bubbled up like froth to lick at the edges of his mouth. These faint flames were but the herald of what was to follow.

When his head had stopped and his jaws had opened fully, a great gout of azure flames was released, like water from a hose. The liquid inferno expanded many times over, growing like a tsunami of fire as it barreled toward its intended victim.

The wall of flame washed over the dummy to envelop it completely. In a fluid-like fashion, the flames splashed and flowed across the surface of the target. The incredible temperature whipped the air into a frenzy, making the flames dance wildly. In what amounted to mere moments, the formerly six-foot man of wood and straw was converted into nothing more than a pile of ash and glowing embers.

Then with a sweep of his head, Tiberius wielded his internal fire like a flamethrower.

The fiery geyser spread across the other scarecrows, engulfing them in an inferno of blue flame. Black smoke billowed up as wood crackled, popped, and hissed before collapsing in heaps of ashes. While soot now stained the arena's once pristine earthen floor.

Only when his lungs had been emptied to the point of near pain did the dragonoid cease his attack. Drawing his head back, his mouth slowly closing, he straightened up.

Leisurely his gaze swept over the scattered remnants, just piles of ash and glowing cinders. Amongst those glowing coals, small tails of flame could be seen rising and falling.

Witnessing this an immense feeling of pride filled him. It was a primal type of pride. Chiefly for the ever-growing mastery of his abilities and the ways this world had changed things.

As was expected, Tiberius could feel the expended energy just assuredly as if he had read it on the screen. While his new instincts spoke to him, telling him how long it would be before he was capable of a repeat performance. From what the dragonoid could sense of this delay, the time allotted was the same as it had been in YGGDRASIL.

But the most noteworthy feature of this new existence was the speed at which the dragonoid could act.

"I guess without YGGDRASIL's menus and animation runtimes things would be considerably faster." He shrugged, "Following that logic, then it stands to reason that casting magic would be equally quick."

Reaching out, he again took the Dragon's Staff in hand before turning away from the smoldering leftovers. Leaving the arena's center, Tiberius moved to stand close to the passageway from which he had come.

From this position, he watched as the arena's custodians came out of their stupor.

The stone sextuplets moved in their usual robotic fashion, leaving their resting place behind. The group advanced on the passage from which they had retrieved the training dummies. A minute later the golems returned this time carrying implements for cleaning.

Three of them carried wide push brooms while the others had brought large fan rakes with them. Those with the rakes set to work first, with wide sweeping movements they gathered the debris to them. While those with the brooms followed behind, smoothing the sands disrupted by their brethren. When one of the golems would find one of the still-burning bits of wood, they would simply lift a heavy foot and stamp out the flame.

At a steady pace, the caretakers moved across the grounds restoring peace in their wake. It was a show of their dedication that every piece, no matter how small, was gathered. In short order, all the strewn rubbish was collected into one central pile.

The caretakers performed a short survey of the showgrounds with their empty eye sockets. Once they were seemingly assured that nary a piece had been missed. The golems left their cleaning utensils behind and encircled the refuse pile.

Each took up an equilateral position and then lifted their arms, the palms of their large hands facing those of their neighbor.

Looking on, this peculiar action left the dragonoid confused as he tried to puzzle out what the golems were doing now.

The answer came as the magical glow that emanated from the area of their joints began to intensify. Brighter and brighter the light shone by the moment to the point that Tiberius was forced to shield his eyes. Upon reaching its zenith, the steady and powerful illumination was changed into a single blinding flash.

Even with his hand imposed before him, Tiberius was forced to shut his eyes tightly against the light. Then as the light faded, he was again able to open them. He blinked rapidly, attempting to refocus. When his vision had returned to normal, the dragonoid looked at the golems.

At the center of the circle of stone men, where once had been a small mound of debris was now nothing but smooth sands.

Their task accomplished the golems lowered their arms and broke from their circle. Retrieving the rakes and brooms, the caretakers marched to the tunnel. With little doubt in the dragonoid's mind for the purpose of replacing their cleaning implements. This belief was proven correct as the stone golems reappeared bereft of those items. As before with the completion of their assignment, the arena caretakers once again strode to stand below the great Phoenix statue.

"What was that?" Tiberius questioned what he'd witnessed, his orange-red eyes lingering on the vacant arena. "I mean if I had to guess I'd say it's some kind of disintegration spell or something," he shrugged, "I guess that's one way of taking out the trash."

With that movement of his shoulders, the dragonoid was reminded of his currently missing wings. As the subject of his wings came to his mind, Tiberius was left to wonder about their functionality. Could he use them to fly? Or were they purely there for aesthetics?

YGGDRASIL had offered its players a wide variety of travel means. Whether across the sea, over the lands, or through the air, there were plenty of choices.

For air travel, there were three main ways in which players achieved this.

The first to come to mind was the use of the [Fly] spell. It was by far the most common choice for players. Then there was the second more common method which was through the ownership of a mount capable of flight. This was an option preferred by those more interested in a leisurely journey. The final means to achieve flight was for the player's avatar to have wings.

But that was a game.

This was reality and there was no telling if just having wings here would be enough.

There was a twitch in the muscles of his shoulders which preceded the beginning of the process. There came a dull warble as metal buckled and reformed. Bone was molded, the flesh was grown, and tendons were knitted as the missing appendages were given form. After a brief moment, the process was complete and the dragonoid stood whole again.

With the basic idea in mind, he unfurled his wings to their fullest extent. Much like a fledgling bird, his first movements were tentative at best. The muscles of his wings stretched and contracted, with each movement building upon the last. With a back-and-forth motion, his wings flapped. Every beat of his wings produced a surprisingly strong gust that stirred up the sand beneath his feet.

Gradually Tiberius increased the speed at which his wings beat while simultaneously adjusting the angle. These combined to cause an ever-greater level of turbulence. The sands beneath him so disturbed by this now swirled about like miniature sand storms. Faster and harder his wings moved until the effect began to be felt.

Little by little, the dragonoid's body began to rise from the ground till soon enough his feet dangled several inches above the sands. The thrill that raced down his spine, as a result, served only to motivate him.

At a balanced pace, the distance between Tiberius and the arena floor grew.

Now that he was airborne, the dragonoid was quickly discovering the matter was not so simple. Just to remain stationary above the ground required much of his focus and near-constant adjustments to his wings. Many times he felt his center of balance beginning to tilt one way or another. Sometimes he overcorrected which resulted in losing what little control he was able to maintain. As a result, the dragonoid tumbled from the air.

He landed unceremoniously on the sandy floor. With a disgruntled groan, Tiberius slowly rose from his sprawled-out position. Upon standing the first thing he did was to inspect his wings, after all, there would be little use in continuing if he had been injured.

An experimental flap of his wings and a shake of the tail was all the dragonoid needed to assuage any worries of injury.

Again and again, he attempted to hover and several more times he was forced to pick himself up from the sands. Yet there was nothing else to do for it but to get up and dust himself off.

However, in the process of doing so, Tiberius discovered a new irritation.

The disruption that his repeated failures were causing to the arena floor did not go unnoticed by the arena caretakers. After each of his landings, one of the golems would approach the site and set to work smoothing the sands.

But mercifully they were silent with any criticisms.

Time lost all meaning as the dragonoid continued to practice. But harder work tends to breed success and so it was too for him.

The first lesson was to understand what he had been doing wrong. This led him to realize he'd been stiff with his posture and it was that which caused him to overcorrect when off balance. Remaining relaxed and more open to shifts in his body allowed him to better compensate. Achieving a stable hover was only the first step as he quickly took it to the next step and practiced moving.

Moving mid-flight understandably proved a more difficult proposition with equally unfavourable endings. Yet Tiberius persevered, learning to shift his weight while aligning his wings independently of the other. He also learned that having a tail aided him greatly in steering his movements as well as acting as a stabilizing ballast once airborne.

So now only one challenge endured.

Taking a deep breath the dragonoid steeled his nerve and lifted his head toward the artificial sky. His wings began to move, slowly at first but gained speed as his courage and determination grew.

Gradually Tiberius felt himself rising, his feet leaving the earthen arena. From a gentle breeze, the turbulence grew to typhoon gusts as he was carried aloft. But he was not content to just hover as he had been. Now he shifted his weight, realigned his wings, and started to move. The sudden change in forward momentum was unexpected and Tiberius quickly found himself traveling toward the arena grandstands, with surprising haste.

Wishing to forestall an early end to his airbourne journey, the dragonoid reacted and steered his body to the left. His left wing flared, capturing more air to create drag while the right wing remained level. With these simple alterations, Tiberius was able to change course.

Now instead of colliding with the stone seats he merely skimmed over them at a height of little more than six feet.

Once, twice, then thrice the dragonoid performed a complete circle of the Grand Arena. All the while he whooped and cheered like an excited child.

Halfway through his fourth lap of the arena, Tiberius again altered the angle of his wings. Muscles were pulled taught as he changed his aim and veered skywards. With every beat of his mighty wings, the dragonoid gained altitude.

Through the air, he sailed like a falling star in reverse. However, while the sky appeared infinite it was naught but an illusion. Passing a thousand feet, he could sense the fast-approaching ceiling, and still, he kept going. Another three hundred feet raced by and then before he collided by his estimation, the dragonoid reared back pulling himself into an arcing loop. At its apex, he stretched out his arm and felt his taloned fingers brush along the smooth surface of the simulated sky.

After cresting the arc came the return. Entering into a steep dive, Tiberius' course was again set earthwards.

With an idea, Tiberius retracted his wings. Pulling them in close to his body and lowering the levels of drag served well to increase his speed. As he rocketed back toward the arena below, he truly resembled a falling star as the light glinted off his armour. To add to the thrill, he shifted his weight which caused him to spiral like a corkscrew.

However, this didn't last long as the resulting dizziness threatened to overwhelm him.

In this game of chicken, the outcome was inevitable. It would be he, who would blink first as after all the ground wasn't known for its tendency to flinch.

At a distance of forty feet, his wings spread outwards. This sudden flaring acted like a parachute and drastically arrested his momentum. Yet it wasn't enough, and he was forced to flap his wings to further slow himself. At fifteen feet Tiberius had decelerated enough to hover above the stands.

Slowly he descended.

No sooner had his clawed feet touched the cool stone of the arena grandstands than Tiberius ceased to flap his wings.

His draconic frame began to tremble before it became a full-body tremor. Unable to contain himself any longer a deep and thunderous laugh erupted from his parting jaws. As his body quaked and his head was thrown back in that resounding cackle, Tiberius was sure that to anyone looking on he would have seemed quite mad. Little by little his laughter became quieter, becoming a chuckle then a soft snicker before disappearing. Leaving him to breathe heavily as the excitement and adrenaline began to subside.

Allowing himself to relax for the first time since he entered the Grand Arena, Tiberius sat down upon the marble bleachers. Tilting his head back, he stared at the skybox, taking note of the position of the false sun. As he looked upon the bright orb of light, it looked to have moved a fair distance since he had started this whole exercise.

Looks like it's getting late in the morning, so I guess that'll be enough practice for one day. Besides, I bet Yuliana is probably wondering where I am. After all, I can't spend the whole day flying around the floor, even if it was fun.

He sighed.

"So it's back to work, I guess," rising from his seat, the dragonoid paused. "Wait, she used the [Message] spell to speak with me last time. And using that would be a lot faster than traveling all the way to the Throne Room."

Settling on this course of action, Tiberius spoke the words.

"[Message]"

What came next was a strange sensation.

When the Guardian Overseer had contacted him there had been nothing but her voice within his head.

However, this was a far different feeling and difficult to properly put words to.

It was an oddly numb sort of feeling not unlike when an arm or leg would lose feeling. So it was that he experienced that same strange disconnect as if some phantom limb was reaching out. Grasping for something beyond his view.

"[Lord Tiberius.]"

Yuliana's sweetened voice echoed within his mind.

"[It is good to hear from you. I do hope you have slept well. Is there something that you require?]"

"Oh, ah, good morning to you, Yuliana," the dragonoid found himself fumbling in what amounted to a psychic phone call, "And yes, I do feel rather well rested. Thank you."

"[I am pleased to hear so, my lord. You must have felt rather drained to have slept for so long. I am glad that none disturbed you in the two days since.]"

Those words were quick to gain his attention.

"Yuliana, what do you mean two days since?"

"[Indeed, my lord. Since last you and I have spoken, two days time has elapsed.]"

To hear her speak so calmly as she informed him of the fact he'd spent the last two days unconscious was alarming, and it filled him with questions.

If what she's saying is true, then I've been in this world for three days now.

"W-why did no one attempt to wake me?"

"[But my lord, your words to me were explicit. You said to contact you if anything out of the ordinary were to occur. As nothing had transpired, the others and I saw no need to disturb you.]"

Hearing her explanation the dragonoid brought a hand up and clamped it overtop the bridge of his reptilian snout in his imitation of facepalming.

That's not what I meant. And what if I didn't wake up? Does this mean that if nothing happened they'd let me just keep sleeping?

He wanted to shake his head at the nonpresent female and her interpretation of his words. Perhaps some imprint of these emotions was shared across this neural link because the Guardian Overseer's voice was heard again.

"[Did I do wrong?]"

Yuliana's voice was much softer now, with an almost tangible fear. It was a tone reminiscent of those she had used when last they had spoken.

"No," Tiberius hastily replied, "No, Yuliana. You did nothing wrong, you were merely following my instructions." He paused before changing the topic, "Yuliana, please alert Aeon, Koraboros, and Nido that I wish to speak to them, as well as yourself, about the state of our affairs."

"[As you wish, my liege. I shall summon them to the Throne Room as soon as we finish.]"

The thought of holding a meeting in the Throne Room didn't sit well with the dragonoid. The space was too formal, and not conducive to the easy sharing of dialogue.

"I believe we shall conduct this meeting in the Council Chamber."

The audible gasp that came from the female speaker was enough to get his attention.

"Yuliana, are you okay?"

"[Yes, Lord Tiberius, I am quite all right. But are you certain that you wish to utilize the Council Chamber?]"

"Why not? Is there some problem I am unaware of?"

"[N-no. It's just that… the Council Chamber is reserved for the Supreme Beings and not the likes of their servants.]"

Tiberius considered her words. From her point of view, the statement must have made sense given the clear reverence the NPCs seemed to show the guild's members. It was something he'd firsthand with every interaction he'd had with the various NPCs.

Knowing them, they probably view the Council Chamber as some kind of sacred site or something.

"While it is true that none of you have been allowed entrance before. However, I see no problems with changing that and I am sure my fellow Sanguine Dragons would not object."

Especially given the circumstances.

"[V-very well, Lord Tiberius,]" Yuliana's voice wavered, "[I shall proceed to inform the others immediately.]"

"Very good, I will be there shortly."

"[I shall eagerly await your arrival.]"

Tiberius could almost swear that he could see the smile on her face as she spoke.

The dragonoid moved along the narrow path between the long rows of bench seats on his way to the stairs. Following the stairway, he descended to the sandy arena showgrounds. Setting foot on the sands, Tiberius made his way across the arena toward the passage that would lead back to the Ninth Floor.

Approaching the yawning opening, Tiberius paused.

Pivoting on his heel, he turned back, again facing into the arena. Keen flame-coloured eyes focused on a thin glinting object standing upright on the showgrounds. The dragonoid lifted his arm, beckoning it with an open hand.

Heeding the call, the polearm rose above the sands before rushing toward its master. With such speed it moved, a cloud of dust was left in its wake.

Drawing nearer to its master, the Dragon's Staff slowed to a near halt. Then gently laid itself to rest within the waiting hand of the dragonoid.

With a satisfied grin and the guild weapon in hand, Tiberius turned back to the waiting passage and proceeded on his journey.