Ten days had passed since the young man had reincarnated into Areth's body, and by now, the pain had become unbearable.
At first, it had begun as nothing more than a simple headache, so he had paid little attention to it. But now, things had grown serious. As Lord Areth, appearing weak was dangerous, so he could not even call for help.
It was not limited to physical pain alone. He was suffering emotionally and mentally as well. It felt like what werewolves in fantasy stories experienced during a full moon. As if something inside him were resisting his immune system. His desire for wealth, power, and women was intensifying, and he did not understand why.
At first, Areth refused to admit these changes to himself. Increased ambition was natural. After all, he now inhabited the body of a lord, standing at the center of power and privilege. But it was not that simple.
These desires did not feel like his own.
It was as if the blood flowing through his veins whispered with every pulse:
Take more.
Want more.
At night, his sleep was constantly interrupted. When he opened his eyes, a throbbing pain hammered against his temples like a mallet. But even more disturbing were the foreign thoughts emerging from the depths of his mind.
He found himself calculating, instinctively analyzing people's weaknesses, even beginning to accept ideas that would once have been unthinkable. When he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, he noticed that his gaze had become colder, sharper and hungrier.
"This body is mine," he whispered one night. His voice sounded almost unfamiliar, even to himself.
But the answer inside him came without delay.
It was logical, calm, and terrifyingly familiar.
Not yet.
In that moment, he understood.
This was no ordinary reincarnation. Areth's body had not been an empty vessel. It carried dragon blood. And he realized that what had been resisting him was not his immune system.
It was himself.
He was the one denying the dragon's existence.
He was the one resisting its nature.
He was the one betraying its blood.
"No!" he shouted in his vast chamber. His deep, frightening voice echoed off the stone walls.
When the echo returned, the pain in his head seemed to subside for a moment, only to surge back with far greater force. His knees buckled. If he had not grabbed the heavy oak table, he would have collapsed. His chest tightened, his breathing grew irregular.
But this was not panic.
It was something suppressed, straining against its chains.
A door opened within his mind.
First, he felt heat.
Fire flowed through his veins, foreign yet strangely familiar. The suppressed anger he had felt since childhood, the unexplainable sense of superiority, suddenly made sense. These were not things that had been added later.
They had been withheld.
The dragon whispered to him, not with words, but with instinct.
A worldview where possession was natural, domination was a right, and weakness was nothing more than a flaw to be burned away. Everything felt narrow: human morality, human fears, human limits. suffocating.
Areth clenched his teeth.
"I am human," he told himself, forcing each word out.
"A human with free will."
The fire rose.
The dragon did not laugh.
It did not argue.
It simply waited.
Dragons did not rush. Time worked in their favor.
And the dragon knew: Areth's suffering was not a punishment. It was a consequence. Every vein that denied its blood rebelled against him.
When he looked into the mirror again, he saw a thin, golden ring forming around his pupils. It lasted only a moment but it was real. He stepped back, heart racing, as a single thought echoed in his mind:
"If I don't stop this terrifying power… it will destroy me."
If he surrendered completely, he did not know how much of his humanity he would lose.
But if he continued to resist…
The dragon blood would burn him from the inside, slowly and relentlessly.
For the first time, Areth accepted the truth.
This was not an illness.
This was not a curse.
This was an awakening.
The presence of a foreign element within Areth's body was detected by the dragon's blood, which was forcing a change. This detection did not come as a sudden explosion; it descended upon him like a deep, heavy, and inevitable pressure. The dragon's blood was not trying to destroy him. On the contrary, it was trying to make him compatible. It treated it not like a foreign object, but like a flawed piece. Like straightening a bent sword. Like reshaping miscast metal in the fire.
When Areth understood this, he shuddered.
Because there was no hatred in the dragon's will.
No malice.
No mercy.
Only what was "correct."
The human soul in this body was an anomaly. The dragon blood was ancient, patient, and absolute. It knew resistance would eventually break. Every pain, every surge of desire, every mental shock was part of the process.
It did not want to kill Areth.
It wanted to rewrite him.
It wanted to turn him into a true dragon.
And it was impatient.
At some point, the pain ceased to be unbearable. Because it was no longer pain. It was as if every vein, nerve and cell in his body was silently burning at once. No screams. No sound. Just… dissolution. Clinging to the table, struggling to breathe, Areth's vision darkened. The world tore apart like a curtain.
And he fell.
He did not feel the impact.
He did not feel the cold.
He did not feel the ground.
Because there was no body anymore.
------------------------------
When he opened his eyes, there was no sky.
No ground.
Everything was red.
But not like blood.
It flowed like molten gold: shimmering, heavy and alive. The crimson void stretched to the horizon, pulsing like a beating heart. With every beat, the world expanded and contracted.
He thought he was standing.
But he had no feet.
No body.
Only awareness.
And before that awareness, something existed.
It was not standing.
It simply was.
It had no shape.
But it had magnitude.
Not like a mountain.
Not like an ocean.
Like a world.
At the centre of the crimson void was a condensed, twisted presence, resembling a core composed of light, fire and pressure. Looking at it did not burn his eyes.
It crushed his soul.
Because to "look" at it was to acknowledge it.
And to acknowledge it…
Was the first step toward submission.
He wanted to retreat.
But there was nowhere to retreat to.
Then something poured into his mind.
Not words.
Not sound.
Meaning.
"Love is possession."
"Protection is domination."
"The weak are slaves."
"Hesitation is decay."
"Mercy is a luxury of the strong."
These thoughts were not his.
Yet they were not foreign either.
These impulses had always existed within him, unnamed and unrecognised.
A tremor passed through him.
"No…" he said.
No sound emerged.
Only meaning.
I am human.
I choose.
I do not exist only to burn.
The crimson core did not respond.
It did not argue.
It did not persuade.
Because dragons did not persuade.
They desired.
And they took.
The pressure increased.
His awareness began to shrink.
His memories trembled.
His old world.
His death.
His loneliness.
His will to survive.
They began to melt in the fire.
For a moment, he was afraid.
Truly afraid.
If he gave in now…
There would be no "me" left.
Then he did something unexpected.
He did not resist.
He did not attack.
He did not flee.
He accepted.
But it did not surrender.
"I do not reject your power.
But I will not let you erase me."
"I will possess.
But not by force."
"I will rule.
But by my will."
"I will burn.
But only when necessary."
This thought was different.
Alien to the dragon.
Yet not wrong.
Not flawed.
Just… unfamiliar.
For the first time, the crimson core trembled.
Waves spread through the void.
The heat intensified.
Fire wrapped around his awareness.
It did not burn.
It did not crush.
It melted.
Two wills merged in the same crucible.
Human soul.
Dragon essence.
Neither destroying the other.
Neither suppressing the other.
Forged together in the same flame.
Areth did not scream.
But something within him shattered.
He exhaled.
Suddenly.
Deeply.
Painfully.
------------------
When Areth sat upright in bed, the sheets were soaked with sweat. His heart pounded as if it would tear through his chest. He looked at his hands. They remained steady, calm and strong. He turned to the mirror. A pale golden ring appeared around their pupils and then vanished. But he knew it had been there. His mind was silent. There was no pain and no whispering. But deep within, there was weight.
Like a mountain.
Like a sleeping power.
He stood.
The first thing he noticed was his posture.
Straighter.
More… decisive.
He did not hesitate.
Yet he had not lost his compassion.
He was simply… different.
As if he had accepted the dragon's blood and the dragon had accepted his humanity.
Perhaps his character and desires had changed.
But he was still himself.
He could feel it.