Last Egg: Reincarnated as a Dragon in a Game

In the meantime, time continued moving on:

POV ???:

A solitary figure, shrouded in a tattered cloak, stood atop a jagged cliff and surveyed the valley below—a vast chasm that cleaved the land asunder, its tendrils of destruction even piercing the tall mountains at either horizon.

From it, a sinister glow emanated, bathing the desolation in a haunting, mind-torturing scarlet hue. Shadows of monsters silently moved across the expanse.

Amidst the reddened stone ground, there wasn't even the slightest sign of green, everything was dead.

"Even after all these years, the corruption lingers," the man whispered to himself, a tinge of sorrow lacing his words. With a solemn grace, he unsheathed his blade, its surface catching the sun's rays and throwing them back into the evil chasm.

The abrupt call of a familiar voice shattered his reverie. "What are you gazing at? The day's not getting any younger, and we need to get back to the work."

He turned, noticing the approach of his companions—their steps a discordant rhythm against the silence. "What's the quota today?" he asked, his voice a blend of resignation and defiance.

"Ten lesser demons..." replied the tall elf, her bow an extension of her lithe form.

"Ten? A mere pittance," the man scoffed, spitting onto the blood-red earth, his disdain as palpable as the heat from the chasm. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.

In his heart, a weary acceptance had taken root. The world, with its endless hunger for power and wealth, remained unchanged even in the new era of magic. Youthful dreams of a different life had long since faded, worn away by the relentless tides of reality.

His colleagues, unburdened by such reflections, leaped from the cliff—the tall elf with a bow and the fat, bald man with a giant hammer resting on his exposed, ginormous shoulder.

'Well, time to work...'

With a last look at the blighted expanse, the man followed, his cloak billowing like a banner in a storm. The wind whistled around him, but he felt no excitement.

The man landed with a grace that belied his years, the dust from the corrupted soil billowing around him. No sooner had he regained his stance than a guttural roar shattered the eerie silence. From the chasm's fiery depths, a hulking lesser demon beast, its skin a patchwork of pulsating lava and charred flesh, charged towards them, its red eyes ablaze with mindless hunger.

The elf loosed an arrow, a streak of light cutting through the murky air, but the beast swatted it aside, barely slowing. The fat man charged, a battle cry tearing from his throat, swinging his massive hammer in a wide arc. The demon beast met his attack head-on, claws and a hammer clashing with a spark of corrupted magic.

The hooded man didn't hesitate. He dashed forward, the blade in his hand a silver flash against the crimson world.

He slid under the beast's outstretched claw, the heat of its skin singeing the air around him, and plunged his sword deep into its underbelly.

The beast howled, a sound of pain and rage. Black blood spilled from the wound, sizzling as it touched the soil and the man's face; its heavy sulfuric smell almost made him gag.

"I hate this job..." With a final, powerful thrust, he drove his sword deeper, twisting the blade with all his might and fueling all his energy into the attack, the mana lighting up the blade. The demon beast's movements slowed, and at the last moment, the man rolled out from beneath the beast.

It collapsed with a ground-shaking thud, sending a cloud of ash into the air.

[+150 XP]

A fleeting sense of victory washed over him, his senses heightened, eyes dilating, skin flush with the rush of power. But the warmth was short-lived. A chilling sensation clawed at his spine as the silver amulet at his neck pulsated with an unnatural light, greedily siphoning off his hard-earned XP.

[-75 XP]

"Fucking thieves and their XP tax..." he muttered, bitterness lacing every syllable. In this new era, XP had become the lifeblood of survival, the new oil, sparking a relentless cycle of violence and greed.

'Everyone wants to level up, but there is only a limited amount of things to kill, dungeons to clear, and quests to finish...' he thought grimly, scanning the horizon.

The earth's rumble turned into rhythmic thuds, each beat a harbinger of doom. The corrupted chasm's ominous shadows seemed to thicken, swallowing the remaining light. The crimson demonic glow, once oppressive, slowly dimmed, desperately resiting the encroaching absence of light.

"Something strong is coming! Prepare!" The elf's voice, usually calm and collected, now echoed with a tinge of hysteria, bouncing off the stark, bare cliffs.

The darkness, the sounds of steps, and the aura in the air—the man already recognized them but still wanted to hope that he was mistaken.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Then, a voice, chilling in its clarity, whispered from the darkness, "You again? Flesh rich with mana for the mother; lay down your weapons and embrace the void."

The trio looked at each other, their eyes filled with resignation. Their battle-hardened resolve wavered under the weight of an unseen terror.

"It is that empty one again! I thought he had already left..." The man's voice cracked, betraying his shock. The Empty Ones were legends, boss-level monsters.

Filled with resignation, the fat hammerman lowered his heavy hammer, "What are we paying the taxes for, when they can't even secure this farming area for over a year..."

"Well, fuck this. To lose XP to this guy again.." His voice trailed off, resignation taking hold.

"Just lie down; the void awaits us all." The whisper turned into a suffocating pressure, darkness coiling around them like a tangible thing, stealing the very air from his lungs. He gasped, straining for breath, for light, but found none. Only the oppressive, all-consuming void.

'I really hate this job...' He couldn't help but slightly smile at the irony of the situation—he came to farm XP, but instead, he was farmed for flesh and sacrificed to the mother of the void.

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