SOUTHERN REGION OF THE ORIGIN CONTINENT
A vast household, sprawling like a city of its own. Numerous buildings towered across the estate, and a steady stream of people moved through its grounds. Most wore maid attire, while others radiated a domineering aura. Only a select few bore golden hair and golden eyes—signs of true Ignis Clan lineage.
Each building was crafted from rare, unknown materials—not something mortals or even the upper echelons of the rich could easily possess. An air of classical regality cloaked the entire estate.
At its heart stood a grand mansion—half-golden, immense, and exuding a powerful, ominous aura.
Suddenly, a golden flaming flash tore through the skies and slammed into the ground before the mansion, forming a deep crater. In the blink of an eye, armored figures surrounded the impact site. Over a hundred guards, armed with spears and swords, stood poised for battle. Each radiated a vast, formidable aura—none weaker than the early stage of the Origin King Realm.
"Who are you?! How dare you attempt to enter the Ignis Clan ?!" the leading guard thundered.
As the dust settled, the unconscious form of Leo became visible, alongside an elderly man—the one entrusted with his protection.
"Lower your weapons. It’s us," the old man said with quiet authority, releasing his aura.
At once, the guards recognized him and relaxed their stances.
"Welcome back, Butler Rice," the leader greeted respectfully, echoed by the rest.
Then, without warning, the air grew stifling. Flames shimmered in the atmosphere, and a suffocating heat spread over the gathered crowd. Yet, amid this, a golden-haired old man appeared before them, untouched and calm—the Ancestor of the Ignis Clan.
This was the true body behind the clone that had clashed with Drake and his companions. His gaze fell upon the unconscious Leo. Though Leo’s body had been healed, his tattered clothes bore the marks of fierce battle.
"I sensed the loss of my clone... What happened, Rice?" the Ancestor asked, his voice low but penetrating.
"We were ambushed in Bestial Town," Butler Rice replied solemnly.
"What do you mean? Who dares attack my son?!" a middle-aged man burst forth, accompanied by a group of young men and women. He bore a striking resemblance to Leo—clearly, the current head of the Ignis Clan.
"And what of my clone? Was the enemy that strong?" the Ancestor questioned.
The crowd gasped. For the Ancestor’s clone to be defeated—in such a remote, uncultivated place—was almost unthinkable.
Butler Rice gave a grave nod.
"Impossible! Father was defeated?!" Leo’s father roared in disbelief. "How? What kind of enemy did this?"
"It’s best if the Ancestor sees it himself," Butler Rice advised.
The Ancestor raised his hand. Instantly, a golden orb of light emerged from Leo’s body and entered his own mind.
A moment passed—and then, the crowd saw something they’d never expected in their Ancestor’s eyes: shock... and a flicker of fear.
"Rice. Leonard. Follow me," the Ancestor commanded.
Without a word, Leo’s father and Butler Rice followed, leaving the gathered crowd behind—gripped by a mounting sense of dread and suspense.
In the midst of more than ten dragons stood a black dragon, whose eyes suddenly snapped open, swirling with a devouring aura. Drakion had just returned from the realm of the Progenitor Dragons—and to his surprise, not even a minute had passed in this world.
[Leveling up of the Dragon Palace completed. All formations upgraded to Level 2—effective against beings at the Origin Saint Realm and below.]
[New structures added: Dragon Garden, Training Room.]
Drakion beheld the Dragon Palace radiating golden splendor, its brilliance extending across a 10-kilometer radius. The dragon statues stationed outside now looked even more menacing—terrifying in their renewed majesty. Curiosity stirred within Drakion as he wondered what the interior now looked like. But his thoughts soon returned to his conversation with the Progenitor Dragons—he needed to grow stronger.
[The Progenitor Dragons have granted Host the privilege to spin for Draconic Bloodlines. Host has been awarded ten spins. You may obtain: Epic Draconic Bloodline, Rare Draconic Bloodline, Mutated Draconic Bloodline, Legendary Draconic Bloodline.]
When Drakion saw this, interest sparked in his eyes. A roulette appeared before him, shaped like a circle divided into twenty segments. A long red pointer stood at its center, ticking like a clock hand.
Excitement coursed through him. The opportunity to acquire new Draconic bloodlines—and strengthen his clan—was simply too good to pass up.
Without hesitation, he pressed the box.
The roulette began to spin, its segments whirling rapidly before slowing, ticking—click—click—click—
Drakion’s eyes gleamed. Luck seemed to favor him—until...
[Congratulations, Host. You have obtained: Draconic Shell (x1)]
When Drakion read the message, his jaw nearly dropped.
"System... is there any benefit to getting a Draconic Shell?" he asked cautiously.
[Yes. It has great utility for the Host.]
Drakion’s heart lifted slightly—but the system’s next words made him want to throttle it.
[As Host is still a child, Host requires nutrients. This item can be used to replace milk. Host will surely love it.]
For a long moment, Drakion stood silent, utterly frustrated. He never imagined a system could be so personally insulting.
[Host may try again. You have nine chances remaining.]
Just then, Drax’s voice echoed in his mind.
"Oh, you’re spinning for bloodlines? You’d best hope the Draconic Bloodline you acquire aligns with your needs—or you’ll have to find someone with a compatible element."
Drakion nodded grimly and spun again.
[Congratulations, Host. You have obtained: Draconic Shell (x1)]
[Congratulations, Host. You have obtained: Draconic Shell (x1)]
[Congratulations, Host. You have obtained: Draconic Shell (x1)]
Three more spins—three more blasted shells.
[Host may still continue. Boundless luck awaits you!]
Drakion felt the urge to sound the system—to shout at it, to crush it. He had spun four times now, and the system—the cause of his frustration—was still urging him forward.
Even while fuming, Drakion couldn’t help but feel the temptation. The bloodlines. The power. Six spins remained.
"Just once more," he muttered to himself. "If I get another egg shell, I’m done."
He reached out and spun again.
[Congratulations, Host. You have obtained: Epic Draconic Bloodline,.......]
A/N: Continue to support this author with power stones, golden tickets, and gifts—your support is my greatest motivation!
Join the Discord server for discussions and questions about the novel: .gg/GhWjYfbgC