From the moment I was chosen by the holy relic

"She was the second one to hatch."

"Sorel, the Phantom Dragon".

"No flames, no flapping wings."

"That night, there was no sound inside the incubation tower, not even the night watchmen noticed anything. It was only when the morning light shone through the window the next morning that someone entered the tower and found that the dragon egg was empty, its shell gone like morning dew, unbroken and uncracked, as if it had never existed."

"But she's right there."

"In the sunlight, in the shadows, on the eaves, in the puddles, it refracts into dozens of light and shadow, slowly drifting away."

"She didn't roar like the Firebringer, nor was she as heavy as the Goldsmith; she didn't even utter a word. In that state, she was initially called the 'Disfigured Dragon' because no one could see her true appearance."

"Until she first entered the dream."

Eileen paused, her gaze falling into the depths of the flames, where the leaping red lights resembled blurry faces hiding in the smoke.

Do you know how the Deep Shadow Tower locates the Bloodstained Ones?

"It's not about relying on your eyes, it's not about relying on your ears, it's about relying on your dreams."

"They listen for images of doors, swords, seals, and fire in all dreams, and analyze dream fracture frequencies to determine whether the target is in the awakening stage."

"This means that if your dreams are chaotic, they won't be able to see who you are."

"And she is the one who disrupts dreams."

"Sorel's shadow can split into dozens or even hundreds of mirror images, each capable of invading different dream layers and projecting false 'blood seal signals.' Overnight, more than twenty 'suspected Awakeners' listening alarms can sound simultaneously across the entire land."

"Once, the Deep Shadow Tower determined that there were traces of the Bloodmarked in a certain city. The Blood-Shaped Beastmen rushed there overnight, only to find that everyone in the city had the same dream."

"They dreamed of a knight shrouded in twilight reflected in a silver mirror lake, looking back at the tower gate, longsword in hand, with a dragon beside him."

"That dragon was none other than Sorel."

"After that night, the Night Whisperers sealed off the entire city and interrogated three hundred people, but none of them turned out to be true Bloodmarkers."

"She is not a destroyer, but she is an obscure one, a disruptor, the ray of light that casts a shadow between dreams and truth."

"She has no armor, no claws; she is neither a spear nor a shield."

She is a fog.

"A fog that leads the pursuer astray, step by step, between dreams and shadows."

Eileen took out a thin piece of parchment from her bosom. On the parchment was drawn a halo-like dragon shadow, next to which were a row of fragments of Deep Shadow Tower warlocks' listening records.

She read it softly:

"Dream layer skewed by 13%, frequency artifacts in 54 places; listener resonance signal chaotic, system judgment failed, label forcibly sealed: 'Sorel appears'."

"Later, before the Deep Shadow Tower was breached, the last report from the tower contained only one sentence—"

"We are no longer certain which one in the dream is him."

"Sorel doesn't need to fight."

"She just needs to keep the enemy uncertain."

"She is not a sharp spear, but she is the mist."

"It is a lost path in the arrowhead."

Eileen looked up, the firelight reflected in her eyes, as if at that moment, she had become that flickering dream flame in the darkness.

"He was the third to hatch."

"But he is not a cracked shell."

Eileen's voice flowed slowly, like the moon reflected in water, so soft as if she didn't want to disturb a sleeping name.

"That night there was no thunder, no wind. It was an extremely quiet night, the starlight was as clear as washed bone stone, and even the light veins of the spell array inside the incubation tower were slightly dimmed, as if everything was holding its breath."

Everyone thought nothing would happen that night.

"Until the eggshell begins to become transparent."

"It didn't shatter, but was slowly hollowed out by the light from the inside. A faint but steady ray of light slowly spread from the heart of the dragon egg, like a drop of starlight falling from the night sky, gently trembling in the gap between fire and shadow."

Then, he opened his eyes.

"There was no roaring, no struggling. He simply stood up quietly, raised his head, and looked out at the night sky."

"His eyes are neither like those of a wild beast nor a dragon."

The way he looked at the sky was as if he was waiting for a word to be awakened, or trying to remember a forgotten ancient language.

"Spiritual Dragon Isovia".

"His name was written by a wind whisperer. The whisperer looked at his motionless figure that night and said only one thing: 'Like an ancient god descending from the stars.'"

Eileen turned a page of the book, her fingertips lightly touching the engraved images on it, like remnants of the past.

"Isovia is the dragon least like a warrior."

"He never roars, never hums, and rarely even flies in battle. He simply walks, purifying the land he touches with ripples of spiritual energy centered on his mind."

"He wasn't the strongest of the Five Dragons, but he was the one who made people forget about war the most."

"Isovia's ability does not lie in killing enemies."

"He can purify pollution, evaporate dead mud, and restore what has been lost."

"You know the Blackfire Infantry created by the Tower of Abyss. They are a corrupted type of soldier, transformed from original humans or dwarves, with deformed bodies, pupil-less eyes, and a poisonous fire flowing through their hearts that is half-burning and half-corroding. They fear light, are speechless, and constantly rot but do not die; all their cognition belongs to the Tower."

"And Isovia is the only one who can turn them back to their original state."

She whispered, "The first purification took place outside the city of Bale."

"That battle lasted four days and three nights. The Tafang released an entire battalion of Blackfire Infantry, the city's defenses crumbled, the spells were interrupted by the poisonous flames, and the front line was on the verge of collapse."

"The coalition has begun preparations to burn all Blackfire infected, showing no mercy even to those who were once compatriots."

"He arrived then."

"It's not flying, it's not roaring."

"He simply landed amidst the flames of war."

"His wings did not stir up storms, nor did his claws cleave the mountains. But with every step he took, the Blackfire infantry stopped, as if suddenly awakened by something, as if startled from a dream."

"He quietly unfolded his spiritual energy field, like ripples spreading out, slowly diffusing from his sternum and from his eyes."

"Then you'll see those Blackfire infantrymen tremble, then kneel, and then begin to weep."

"Black mist began to rise from their bodies, as the Abyssal Flame was forced out; and their twisted fingers, curled bones, and skin embedded with runes began to return to their original state inch by inch."

"They turned back into humans."

"One by one, one by one."

"An old woman who had once been a municipal official, after the curse was broken, clung to Isovia's paw and wept for a full hour."

She said, "I remember my grandson's name."

"And not just people."

"After conquering an area, the Tower of Abyss leaves behind a corrosive product called Dead Mud. It is not mud, but a runaway biological curse deposit that has a continuous pollution effect, like a rotten but living carpet."

"Conventional spells can only suppress it temporarily; they can never completely eliminate it."

"In areas covered by Isovia's spiritual domain, the dead mud will detach from the soil on its own, float up, turn into mist, and evaporate due to the vibration frequency of his heart meridian."

"This is neither burning nor expulsion, but a sublimation."

"No spell can replicate his frequency, and no magic circle can mimic that 'dissolving purification'."

"So every time he appeared on the front lines, the soldiers would shout out a slogan that wasn't in the military order book."

"He's come to take someone home."

Eileen remained silent for a long time.

She lowered her head, as if listening to her own heartbeat, and then slowly added:

"He was not a victor in the war."

"He is the only dragon still standing there after the war."

"He never attacks, yet everyone guards him in the very center."

"He doesn't belong in battle."

"He belongs to the type who lets the battle pass."

Eileen's gaze fell on the stone in the fire that had not yet shattered. The flames licked at it, yet it remained unbroken, silent and steady, as if the stone itself was waiting for some opportune moment.