Talent Awakening: Draconic Overlord Of The Apocalypse

The air was thick with the stench of burnt flesh, scorched metal, and something far worse—the festering odor of the red mist as it clung to the ruins of the street.

It swirled in unnatural patterns, shifting and curling despite the absence of wind, as though it had a will of its own.

Alister stood amidst the carnage, the crackling embers of a collapsed building casting flickering shadows across his black tech armor.

His team had already dispersed, moving through the wreckage, following his command to locate any survivors who had inhaled the mist.

Quarantine first, ask questions later. They had learned that anything exposed to that crimson fog wouldn't stay human for long.

Fenris, her armor streaked with black ichor, lowered herself into a bow, her dragon tail curling slightly behind her.

Her violet eyes, still aglow with residual lightning, were steady as she met his gaze.

"You have done well," Alister said, tapping her shoulder once in recognition.

For a moment, there was silence—no grand proclamations, no unnecessary words. Just understanding.

Fenris, ever the soldier, dipped her head again. "Thank you, my lord. I will assist in the search."

"Good," Alister replied.

And just like that, in a streak of purple lightning, she was gone in a blur, her form vanishing into the smoldering haze as she joined the others.

Alister exhaled, crouching down beside the nearest corpse.

His fingers brushed the cooling remains of a body that had once been human—before the mist had twisted it.

His system interface flickered to life, lines of text and numerical values burning into existence over his vision.

『STATUS WINDOW』

『Name』 Unknown (Formerly Human)

『Race』 Aberrant (Mutated Human) (First Stage)

『Talent』 N/A

『Total Combat Power』 S (Previously D)

『Corruption Level』 97% (Stage: Irreversible)

『Traits』

『Mist Affliction』 Cellular structure compromised. Subject experienced rapid mutation before expiration.

『Blood Taint』 Bodily fluids now act as a vector for further contamination. Direct contact with exposed tissue is highly inadvisable.

『Mental Collapse』 Last recorded neural activity indicates subject experienced severe cognitive degradation prior to death.

Alister's gaze hardened as the glowing text flickered before his eyes.

Death.

Alister scrolled further down.

The Death Calamity hadn't just killed them. It had changed them.

This one had been D-ranked before exposure. A weak civilian, probably. Now, even in death, it showed signs of reaching S-rank.

His gaze swept over the bodies. The city had been a battlefield, but now it was something worse—a crucible of corruption.

And he felt whoever or whatever was responsible was still here.

Slowly, Alister stood, his hand tightening.

The red mist thickened around the portal, curling and twisting, a slow, insidious movement that made Alister's skin crawl. It wasn't dispersing. It wasn't fading. It was seeping—stretching like unseen fingers, grasping for anything still alive.

And the damn thing wouldn't close.

Alister clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing as the system window hovered in his vision, cold and infuriating in its assessment.

⫷『Empty Dungeon.』⫸

A dungeon without a core. Without a boss. Without an anchor. Which meant it wasn't a dungeon at all—it was a wound. A hole torn open, bleeding corruption into the world.

It was too familiar.

The mechanics felt too much like his own Gate ability, a fact that settled in his stomach like lead. He didn't like it. Not one bit.

If this thing kept spewing mist, it wouldn't just be a battlefield—it would be an incubation chamber. And every corpse, every breathing thing that so much as brushed against that toxic vapor… would shift. Would become something else.

Would stop being human.

Some fool was behind this. Someone had done this. And whoever they were, Alister already knew one thing about them.

They needed to die.

"You can always ask me for help, you know."

The voice slithered into his mind—silk-wrapped steel, familiar and unwanted.

Alameck.

Alister exhaled through his nose, straightening as he rolled his shoulders, dismissing the status window with a flick of his fingers. Perfect timing, as always.

"You go silent for days and suddenly pop up, Let me guess. Something piqued your interest?"

A chuckle, deep and indulgent. 'The scent of human blood.'

Alister resisted the urge to sigh. Of course. Of course, that would be it.

He pushed the presence aside, shutting out the weight of Alameck's amusement as he turned toward the portal. The mist coiled at the edges, thick and cloying, staining the ground beneath it in sickly crimson streaks.

There was only one real option here.

His fingers twitched. His voice cut through the still-burning air.

"Mar'Garet. Come forth."

The world pulsed.

And then—

A golden portal appeared beside him. And from within, Mar'Garet strode out.

Her armor clung to every line of her figure, covering little skin—as if it were intended to show off to a certain someone rather than actually protect her.

A blur of motion—an effortless slide into his space, far too close, far too quick.

And then, contact.

Warm. Soft.

Her arms looped around his, pressing his hand between her breasts, the plated armor doing absolutely nothing to mask the heat of her body.

A deliberate sigh left her lips—slow, indulgent.

"You called, Papi," she purred.

Alister inhaled sharply, already regretting every decision that had led to this moment.

And then she tilted her chin up, lashes low, eyes bright—and kissed him.

Not hesitant. Not coy. Not even remotely chaste.

The kind of kiss that left a mark.

The kind of kiss that meant ownership.

When she finally pulled back—when he pulled back, because if he let her, she'd take this much, much further—she lingered, a ghost of a breath between them, her lips still parted, a smirk curling at the edges.

Then, the cherry on top—

A slow flick of her tongue over her bottom lip before she bit it.

"Just the way I like it," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes, her cheeks tinged with the faintest blush—not from shyness, never that—but from sheer, unrepentant satisfaction.

Alister exhaled, a long-suffering sigh, as he straightened.

"I said, you shouldn't call me that."