The two days following the signing of the contracts were a blur of stabilization and newfound, fragile prosperity.

The Willson Guild Hall, once a place of quiet desperation, was now bustling with a purpose I hadn't seen since my return.

The 95 million Ren from Aegis Holdings—my shadow company—had instantly erased the guild's crippling debt. The paralyzing fear of bankruptcy was gone, replaced by the frenetic energy of a fresh start.

Victor Arkwright, playing his role as the charismatic CEO and savior from the capital, had stayed for both days, overseeing the integration.

He dazzled my father and the senior members with holographic projections of "proposed profit models" and "logistic efficiency upgrades."

In reality, he was simply implementing the instructions I had given him: establish a clear pipeline for the Dawn Guild's C-Rank overflow contracts, restructure the abysmal bookkeeping, and begin investing in long-overdue equipment upgrades.

My father, Darius, looked ten years younger. The deep grooves of stress around his eyes had softened, and his voice, once heavy with the strain of command, now boomed with renewed vigor.

Marcus, my enigmatic cultivator brother, had taken to his new role as Chief Trainer with a terrifying, silent efficiency.

He was already running the junior hunters through grueling Qi-based conditioning exercises in the yard, his precise, demanding methods yielding visible results in just 48 hours.

The guild members, though exhausted, were ecstatic. They had funding, a powerful new ally in the Dawn Guild, and the backing of a mysterious, wealthy firm. The Willson Guild was no longer sinking; it was rising.

And I, the architect of this quiet revolution, was finally able to step back.

My family was safe. The foundation was laid. Victor was handling the finances, Marcus was handling the training, and my parents were handling the morale. For the first time since I'd woken up in this world, I wasn't juggling immediate, life-or-death crises on all fronts. I had... breathing room.

Which meant it was time to inspect the real prize I'd won.

Late on the third night, I excused myself from the boisterous common hall—where another celebratory feast was in full swing—and retreated to the cold, quiet sanctuary of my small, upstairs room.

I locked the door, drew the curtains, and activated a low-level sound-dampening rune Master Thorne had gratefully (and discreetly) given me.

Silence.

I sat on the edge of my narrow bed, the cheers and songs from downstairs reduced to a faint, muffled thrum. My heart beat a steady, anticipatory rhythm.

I reached into my dimensional storage, bypassing the potions, the backup gear, and the inert Sealing Gem case, and drew it out.

The Dragon Egg.

It was heavier than it looked, roughly the size of a small melon, and cool to the touch. The shell wasn't smooth like a bird's egg; it was a flawless, polished obsidian, so dark it seemed to drink the faint lamplight from my desk.

Faint, intricate patterns, like swirling purple and crimson nebulae, were trapped just beneath its surface, giving it an otherworldly, cosmic appearance. It was beautiful, ancient, and utterly, unnervingly dead.

There was no warmth. No mana signature. No flicker of life. It felt like holding a perfectly sculpted, very expensive rock.

My mind raced, pulling up the relevant game lore. 'Dragon Eggs. Mythical-grade items. Infamously difficult to hatch. Most require decades, even centuries, of passive mana absorption in a compatible environment. Forcing a hatch... that requires something specific.'

"System," I whispered, "Scan item."

The familiar blue panel flickered to life, its clean, logical light a comfort in the dim room.

[Item: Dormant Abyssal Dragon Egg]

[Grade: Mythical]

[Status: Dormant. Life signs critical (0.01%). Internal energy depleted. The egg has entered a state of hibernation to prevent death, but will perish if not awakened within a compatible energy matrix.]

[Requirement: Immediate infusion of 'Origin-compatible' mana to initiate hatching sequence.]

[Warning: Conventional mana types (Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, Light) are insufficient or incompatible.]

I stared at the text. Life signs critical. Insufficient. My blood ran cold. I hadn't just found a treasure; I'd found a dying one. I'd pulled it from its C-Rank dungeon, its 'Sunken Vault,' and now it was suffocating in the normal, ambient mana of the world.

"Origin-compatible mana," I muttered, my brow furrowing. "Abyssal. That means... Dark. Shadow. Or something related."

This explained why the Solara Votary, the B-Rank Light-based construct, was guarding it. It wasn't just protecting a treasure; it was actively suppressing and containing this Abyssal entity.

I had to try. I couldn't let a Mythical-grade item—a dragon—die in my inventory.

I placed the egg on my bed and set my hand on its cool, smooth surface. "Okay. Let's try what I have."

First: Ice. My primary affinity. I closed my eyes, drawing on my core.

A wave of intense cold filled the room. Frost crept from my palm, encasing the obsidian shell in a layer of glittering white rime.

I pushed the mana in, gently, trying to 'feed' the dormant life within.

The egg just got colder.

[Mana Infusion Failed. Affinity: Ice (Order) is incompatible with Origin: Abyssal (Chaos).]

My teeth chattered. "Right. Stupid. Trying to feed a creature of darkness with pure stasis." I pulled my hand back, shaking off the frost.

Second: Lightning. Not about order, but about raw, chaotic energy. A shock to the system. "Okay, let's try a jump-start."

I placed my hand back on the shell. I didn't unleash a full-blown attack, but channeled a steady, low-voltage current of my new Lightning affinity.

Blue-white sparks crackled from my fingertips, dancing over the obsidian surface like angry spiders.

The egg remained inert. It didn't even conduct the electricity. The sparks simply grounded themselves against my other hand, sending an unpleasant jolt up my arm.

[Mana Infusion Failed. Affinity: Lightning (Energy) is incompatible with Origin: Abyssal (Void/Dark).]

"Damn it!" I hissed, nursing my stinging palm. It wasn't about energy, either. It had to be about the type. The Origin.

That left one last option. My most volatile, dangerous, and unrefined affinity: Space.

My heart hammered.

This was a terrible idea. My control over Space was minimal, barely at the level of a 'trait.'

Using it felt like trying to write a novel with a hammer. If this went wrong, I could accidentally implode the egg, teleport it into a wall, or tear a hole in my own hand.

But the System's scan had been clear. Partial resonance. It was the closest match I had.

"Okay... easy does it," I whispered. I placed my hand on the egg, my fingers trembling slightly. I didn't try to push the mana.

I just… reached for it, that familiar, nauseating, tearing sensation at the edge of my core. I let a tiny, unstable wisp of spatial energy flow from my palm.

The air around the egg shimmered. The light in the room seemed to bend, the nebula-like patterns inside the shell swirling, distorting. The egg pulsed once, a faint, weak thrum.

...cold...

A whisper, so faint it was barely a thought, brushed against my mind.

But just as hope flared, the resonance died. The shimmering stopped. The egg went cold and inert again.

[Mana Infusion Failed. Affinity: Space (Void) has partial resonance, but user's mastery and mana purity are insufficient to trigger awakening.]

I slumped, frustration and despair washing over me. "Insufficient. So I'm close... I have the right concept of mana, but not the power or the type." I had the key, but it wasn't cut correctly.

I stared at the egg, my mind racing through every piece of game lore I possessed. What else had an Abyssal, Dark, or Void signature? What else did I have?

And then, my gaze fell on the sword leaning against my desk.

Draken.

The room seemed to drop a few degrees, the shadows in the corners deepening. The Divine Weapon was silent, inert, but its mere presence felt like a pocket of darkness in the room.

My blood chilled. "No. Absolutely not."

Draken wasn't just a sword. It was a prison. It housed the consciousness of Drakerlor, the Dragon of Doom and Destruction.

Its aura wasn't my mana; it was his. An ancient, sentient, and profoundly malevolent power that I had sealed away after its first terrifying awakening.

Channeling it was an invitation for that... thing... to sink its claws deeper into my soul. What if it corrupted the egg? What if it possessed the nascent dragon? What if it used the connection to possess me?

The risks were astronomical.

But...

I looked at the dormant egg, its life signs at 0.01%, bleeding away into nothing. A Mythical-grade Abyssal Dragon.

The potential power was unimaginable. A companion that could one day rival S-Rank hunters. An ally that could change the fate of the world.

Could I really let it die here, on my bed, because I was afraid?

"...Fuck defense," I whispered, the same words I'd spoken when I chose Lightning. "The best offense is a bigger, scarier dragon."

My decision was made. It was a terrible, reckless, borderline suicidal gamble. It was perfect.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. "Okay, Drakerlor,"

I murmured, picking up the heavy, dark blade.

"Let's see if you're good for something other than cryptic, end-of-the-world threats."

(To be continued )

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