Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence Chapter 759 - 422: Power of the Dragon’s Remains (Part 2)

Marks of brutal scratches and violent impacts marred the pool's interior walls, while its bottom was submerged beneath a thick, stagnated layer of dark residue.

Scattered around the chilling blood pool were several tattered remnants of researcher robes.

Faint, blurred traces of runes adorned the fabric, their edges appearing as though they had been repeatedly torn by vicious claws.

Sacco halted at the edge of the bloody pool, his gaze flitting between the wall markings and the ground before him, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing.

As his eyes traversed the blood pool and settled upon the deeper, encroaching shadows, his breath caught sharply in the very next moment.

Lying sprawled beyond the blood pool was a colossal skeleton.

Even from such a distance, the sheer, oppressive mass of it instinctively demanded one to halt their advance.

"This..." Sacco uttered involuntarily, the words catching in his throat.

Weir followed his gaze, his pupils constricting with sudden intensity.

"You cannot be serious..." he whispered, as if fearful of disturbing something, "Is that... a dragon?"

The subterranean chamber remained utterly still, save for the skeletal form reposing on the floor.

It was indeed the remains of an ancient dragon.

The bones were of an immense size and aged significantly, their surfaces bearing the unmistakable signs of deliberate incisions, bores, and embedded apparatuses.

The vertebral column was segmented and secured, and the ribcage had been forcefully pried open to be connected to some intricate and disturbingly cruel alchemical contraption.

Even in its lifeless state, the skeleton radiated a profoundly unsettling aura.

"Such a thing truly exists..." Weir muttered, his voice filled with disbelief.

"They actually had the audacity to..." Sacco’s sentence petered out, the realization dawning that any words to adequately describe the Remont Clan at this juncture would be utterly superfluous.

Louis remained stationary, his gaze fixed upon the skeleton, displaying no discernible emotional response.

For him, this was not the first encounter with such knowledge.

Several records from his [Daily Intelligence] naturally surfaced within his mind.

Information pertaining to the Remont Clan's long-standing experiments involving dragon blood.

Details of their relentless pursuit of power purification, irrespective of the cost.

Accounts of the numerous failed subjects repeatedly sacrificed in their endeavors.

This knowledge had long been corroborated through his own perusal of documents and various accounts.

Now, however, it had manifested into a tangible entity.

This was the genesis of it all.

And furthermore, it represented Kael's final gambit.

Louis's gaze shifted slowly between the colossal skeleton and the desiccated blood pool, his expression bordering on utter indifference.

There was no trace of glory to be found here.

Merely an ancient path that had reached its bitter end.

From this moment forward, the name of the Remont Clan would cease to be associated with nobility.

It would instead be relegated to footnotes, remembered only as a failed experiment.

He took a few deliberate steps forward, seeking a clearer view.

The instant he drew nearer to the ancient dragon's skeletal remains, a familiar yet entirely distinct chill abruptly pierced through Louis's consciousness.

It did not originate from his sight but was a direct pressure exerted upon his mental plane.

Louis's steps faltered.

"...It's here again." The thought flashed through his mind.

This sensation was all too eerily familiar to him.

By Titus's corpse, the crimson miasma, and the purple vapor emanating from the nest's remnants—Louis had experienced this same premonition.

It served as a warning of a peril that transcended the physical, emanating from a far deeper existence.

Yet, the nature of this current manifestation was entirely dissimilar to the previous two intrusions.

From the pale, vast bone crevices of the ancient dragon, an almost transparent golden mist slowly began to seep out.

It was unobtrusive, lacking any overt display of aggression.

It simply dispersed silently, bestowing a sense of oversight.

A condescending gaze, much like a deity peering down upon the dust below, compelling the soul to instinctively cower, submit, and acknowledge its utter insignificance.

The atmosphere within the underground chamber seemed to solidify in tandem with its presence, imposing a silent yet inescapable decree.

Louis's vision flickered slightly, and a violent tremor reverberated from the depths of his consciousness.

His Primordial Meditation Technique activated at maximum speed instantaneously, rapidly constricting the boundaries of his awareness and forcefully repelling the invading will.

Nonetheless, the golden presence did not withdraw.

It remained suspended, passively awaiting submission.

At this critical juncture, his Primordial Heart responded.

In the core of his mental sea, a sudden burst of platinum starlight erupted.

Resembling the slow rotation of a stellar core, it was stable, serene, yet possessed absolute authority.

The radiance expanded like a galaxy, restoring stability to Louis's consciousness.

Subsequently, two other subdued forces were simultaneously roused.

The crimson mist surged at the periphery of the platinum luminescence, morphing into furious blood vines that emitted a deep, angry hum from their scarlet tendrils.

The purple shadow coalesced within the light, transforming into densely packed insectoid silhouettes that emitted an unsettling shriek, as if intent on devouring all existence.

Controlled by the Primordial Heart, they ceased their conflict, like subservient hunting hounds now focused on a single new quarry.

Crimson and purple energies lunged forward, striving to claim dominion over the encroaching golden aura.

Meanwhile, platinum starlight acted as an unseen restraint, compelling the three forces onto a unified path.

Louis’s awareness plunged, and vivid fragments of memory flooded his mind once more.

Within the suffocating darkness of a mine pit, torchlight cast flickering shadows.

An aged miner, clad in tattered rags, swung his pickaxe, the sharp clang of metal striking something unyielding echoing in the void.

Brushing away the accumulated dirt, he uncovered a segment of pale dragon bone.

That single, fleeting glimpse was enough.

The old miner’s eyes instantly glazed over, losing all focus.

No cry escaped his lips, no struggle ensued. He appeared utterly captivated by an overwhelming, irresistible power, freezing where he stood before slowly sinking to his knees, his heart ceasing its beat in a startlingly short span.

The vision dissolved, only to reform into a new scene.

An ancient tomb, long swallowed by the passage of time.

Its domed ceiling had long since collapsed, the stone walls bearing the marks of ages, faint runes peeking through the settled dust, the air thick with the profound silence of ancient decay.

The skeletal remains of an ancient dragon lay undisturbed at the heart of the burial chamber, its form intact, majestic, as if merely resting.

Within this tomb, only a solitary figure was present.

Donning a mage’s robe, the figure’s face remained hidden beneath a deep hood, the robe adorned with intricate, archaic patterns unlike any known alchemical designs.

Approaching the remains, the mage moved with a steady resolve, devoid of hesitation or reverence.

A precise and calm magical luminescence then began to emanate.

With an almost surgical precision, the sternum was carefully separated.

The magnificent heart, though silent, still pulsed with a brilliant golden light, was extracted in its entirety.

It was then secured within a Casket of Black Gold, etched with ancient warding symbols.

Just as the burial chamber was succumbing to complete darkness, a profound, ethereal whisper resonated across the ages.

"The heart returns to its master; the bones and blood return to dust."

The concluding image shifted to an even more ancient tableau.

An underground altar, dark and damp, encircled by a ring of pallid candles.

A young man knelt before it, holding aloft a cleanly severed human hand, his lips moving inaudibly as he recited an oath.

The illusion shattered violently, and Louis’s eyes snapped open.

By this point, the subtle golden mist had been fully absorbed into his being, sequestered within a hidden corner of his sea of consciousness by the Primordial Heart, establishing itself as the third distinct force alongside the crimson and purple energies.

Yet, Louis perceived this force as incomplete, though undeniably potent.

A fleeting golden shimmer flickered deep within Louis’s pupils.

He distinctly felt the formation of a new passive pressure, an ability imparted by the golden mist, potent enough to cause the wills of those of lower standing to falter instinctively simply by his gaze.

"...My lord?" Weir’s voice registered a noticeable drop in volume, "Are you quite well?"

Louis raised a hand, pressing it to his forehead, then slowly shook his head.

Remarkably, unlike the previous three instances, this disorientation was fleeting, and he did not lose consciousness.

This outcome provided him with a measure of inner reassurance.

He understood this to be a fragmented power, its true essence residing within the heart that had been retrieved.

"I am well enough," he responded, his tone regaining its characteristic calm.

Louis turned his gaze back to the now entirely depleted skeleton, which had reverted to mere ordinary bone, his expression unwavering.

The Remont Clan believed they had stumbled upon a great treasure, but in truth, they had merely acquired someone else’s discarded remnants.

While definitive proof was lacking, Louis harbored an instinctive suspicion that this discovery might be linked to the vanished Emperor.

However, Louis possessed no clear path forward and could only hope for the swift and efficient workings of the Daily Intelligence System.

Louis withdrew his attention from the remains. "Temporarily seal this location and instruct Merian to dispatch his alchemy team here with utmost urgency."