Chapter 221: Rise
That night, the world felt hushed. The ruins of the battlefield lay in silence, the only sound being the whisper of the wind and the distant crackle of dying flames.
Under the pale glow of the moon, Igaris and Lilya sat side by side on a hill overlooking the village. The starlight shimmered on her golden eyes, still red from tears, yet calmer than before.
After a long silence, she spoke, her voice barely louder than a breath.
"Who are you really, Igaris?"
His eyes lingered on the moon, deep and distant, as if searching for an answer in the heavens themselves. At last, he sighed, the weight of centuries pressing into the sound.
"I am... your worthless husband who failed to protect you in my previous life."
Her head jerked toward him, her cheeks blooming red. "H-Husband?"
The word lingered in the air, delicate and impossible. Lilya’s heart pounded like a drum, her fingers curling into her dress.
Igaris did not smile. His eyes remained fixed on the night sky, heavy with melancholy.
"I was the Overlord of the Endless Abyss. In my arrogance, I conquered worlds, crushed empires, and gathered those I loved by my side. You... were one of them. My wife. My Progenitor Queen." His tone softened, almost breaking. "And I failed you. I failed all of you."
Lilya’s lips trembled, her mind spinning. She wanted to laugh it off, to call it impossible. Yet deep in her soul, something resonated. A faint echo... like a memory just beyond her grasp.
He continued, voice steady but laced with regret.
"My wives... all of them were taken from me when the great disaster struck. One by one, I watched them fall, powerless to stop it. That is my sin, Lilya. That is the burden I carry into this life. So here I am... trying to make amends. To find you all again. To keep you safe this time, no matter what."
The silence stretched, filled only by the sound of the wind rustling through the grass.
Finally, Lilya whispered, her voice shaking. "You’re... saying I was your wife? That we were... together?"
"Yes." His eyes finally met hers, unwavering. "Even if you don’t remember it now, even if it sounds like madness to you, I will not deny it. I failed you once. This time, I swear I will not."
Her face was crimson, her body trembling. She pressed her hands to her chest, as if to calm her racing heart. Somewhere deep inside, she felt an unfamiliar warmth, a connection she couldn’t explain.
The girl in her wanted to deny it. The dragon in her wanted to roar against fate. But another part—quiet, buried deep—wanted to believe.
"...Then," she whispered, her voice unsteady but determined, "you’d better keep your promise. Because if you fail me again... I won’t forgive you."
For the first time in what felt like ages, Igaris allowed the faintest smile to touch his lips.
"I wouldn’t dare."
The moonlight bathed them both, their shadows stretching together across the earth—man and Progenitor, bound once more by a past neither could fully escape.
That night, after their talk, Lilya fell asleep with her heart pounding, tangled in a storm of confusion and warmth.
Her dreams pulled her into a place she had never seen before.
She stood on a throne of obsidian, high above a realm of endless stars. The world trembled beneath her, legions of dragons kneeling, their wings spread in reverence. Her hair was longer, her eyes sharper, her form radiant with power. A crown of dragon horns rested on her head, glowing with ancient might.
And beside her, standing tall with a blade in his hand, was Igaris.
Not the man she knew now. This Igaris was cloaked in darkness and fire, his presence overwhelming, his aura enough to crush worlds. Yet when he turned to her, his gaze softened—gentle, protective, achingly familiar.
He reached for her hand, and when their fingers touched, warmth filled her chest.
The voice that followed was her own, yet not her own, echoing in the dream.
"We are one. No matter how many times we fall, no matter how many worlds try to tear us apart... we will find each other again."
The dream blurred, dissolving into fragments of fire, blood, and tears. She saw herself screaming his name as the skies split apart, saw him fall into the abyss, reaching for her until the void swallowed them both.
Lilya jolted awake, drenched in sweat, her body trembling. The moonlight filtered through the window, painting her face pale.
Her hand went to her chest where her heart beat violently. The dream still lingered, vivid, impossible to dismiss.
She whispered into the night, voice quivering.
"...Why did it feel so real?"
And though she could not see him, Igaris, sitting by the window with eyes half-closed, had felt her stirring. His lips curved into a faint, sorrowful smile.
"Because it was."
The next morning, Lilya sat quietly in front of her house, watching the mist roll down from the mountains. Her eyes were distant, haunted by the strange dream she dared not tell her parents. She could still feel the echo of dragons kneeling before her, the warmth of Igaris’s hand in hers.
Igaris approached, his steps calm but deliberate. He stopped beside her, gazing out at the same horizon. For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, his voice cut through the morning air.
"Lilya. It’s time you begin gathering those who will follow you."
She blinked, startled. "Follow me? What do you mean?"
His eyes met hers, unflinching. "You are not just any child of this village. You carry the bloodline of the Dragon Progenitor. Sooner or later, the Celestial Dragon Empire will come for you again. If you want to survive—if you want to claim what is rightfully yours—you need strength, and strength does not come from power alone. It comes from people who will stand with you."
Her hands trembled on her lap. "The... throne?" The word felt foreign on her lips, heavy, almost unreal.
"Yes," Igaris said without hesitation. "The throne of the Celestial Dragon Empire. It belongs to you, not to those pretenders sitting on it now. If you awaken your bloodline but have no allies, you’ll be nothing more than prey. But if you gather those who believe in you, you can take back what was stolen."
Lilya bit her lip. "But... I’m just a little girl. How would anyone follow me?"
A rare smile tugged at Igaris’s lips. "Do you think miracles happen only in stories? You already carry the greatest proof—your bloodline. When you show the world who you are, there will be those who bow willingly, not out of fear, but out of devotion. And until then..." He placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "...you have me."
Her eyes wavered, heart racing as warmth spread through her chest. For a moment, she was back in that dream, standing tall with him at her side, dragons kneeling before them both.
She clenched her fists, summoning courage. "Then... I’ll do it. I’ll find them. My people. My strength."
In that quiet town morning, as smoke rose from the huts and farmers called to one another, the first seed of rebellion was planted—the seed of a new Dragon Queen.
From that day onward, Lilya’s life no longer belonged to a quiet mountain village.
Under Igaris’s guidance, she began gathering those who would follow her—not just from her homeland, but from worlds far beyond.
In the Beast-Scarred Plains, she awakened a dormant dragon tribe, their bloodline suppressed for centuries. At her roar, their veins ignited, and they knelt, swearing loyalty to the Progenitor’s daughter.
In the Storm Isles, she calmed an endless maelstrom with a single wave of her hand, saving the fishermen who had lived in fear for generations. They offered her their ships and their lives in return.
In the Ashen Netherworld, where even the skies bled fire, she freed enslaved dragon-blooded warriors chained by demonic overlords. When their shackles shattered under her flame, their cries of allegiance shook the world.
And in the Floating Sky Realms, where noble clans looked down upon mortals, she appeared as a child glowing with ancient power. When she summoned the shadow of the Progenitor Dragon, entire clans bent their knees, unable to resist her suppression.
Everywhere she went, stories spread faster than fire.
"She is the true heir."
"The Dragon Progenitor walks again."
"The Celestial Empire’s throne will tremble."
By her side, Igaris was silent yet ever-present. He was the unseen sword that struck down assassins, the strategist whispering paths of conquest, and the shield that kept her safe when her own power faltered. To the world, she was the miracle child. To him, she was Lilya—his beloved he had once failed, now rising stronger than ever.
Her parents in the small mountain village could only watch from afar, bewildered as their daughter’s name traveled across worlds. Farmers whispered her name while tilling soil, kings cursed her while tightening their armies, and across the endless heavens, the Celestial Dragon Empire began to shudder in fear.
And so, in only a handful of months, the little girl of twelve became a figure all worlds spoke of: the reborn Dragon Progenitor, destined to reclaim the Celestial Dragon Throne.