Talent Awakening: Draconic Overlord Of The Apocalypse Chapter 514: Someone Who Should’ve Died

Ren turned slowly to face the speaker.

Standing just a few feet behind him was a man, impeccably dressed in a black suit that shimred softly beneath the cetery’s ambient light.

His silver-and-brown hair was slicked back with elegance, and his eyes... mismatched.

One green, the other a deep, blood-like red. Both watched Ren with this strange yet calm intensity, like a predator admiring a cornered beast.

The man’s smile was gentle—too gentle.

"Who are you?" Ren asked cautiously, taking half a step back. His fingers instinctively twitched near his belt where his weapon would normally be holstered—if not for the cetery’s enforced disarmant field.

The man didn’t answer imdiately. Instead, he stepped forward, his polished shoes silent against the smooth synthetic stone.

"I go by many nas now," he said, voice rich, smooth, but yet... hollow in so inexplicable way.

"But I find nas tend to complicate things. For now, just think of as... soone who listens."

Ren’s gaze narrowed. "You were listening to everything I said."

"To every word," the man replied without sha, his smile never faltering. "Such genuine sorrow. Such conviction. You really would risk everything, wouldn’t you? For the dead... for the living..."

His red eye pulsed faintly, like a distant signal beacon blinking in the dark.

"I ant what I said," the man continued. "There is sothing only you can do. A thread only you can pull. One that even he"—he tilted his head aningfully toward the skyline, where the distant glow of dragon-shaped mana could be faintly seen—"cannot touch."

Ren’s heart skipped. "You’re talking about Alister."

The man’s smile grew, just a little. "I’m talking about change. Correction. Balance. Call it what you want."

Ren clenched his fists. "Why ?"

The man finally stopped walking, standing beside one of the crystalline graves.

"Because you were ant to die that day too." His voice was colder now, less pleasant. "But you didn’t. Sothing chose you."

A beat of silence passed.

Then, softly, the man added:

"Would you like to know why?"

Ren’s breath caught.

The words struck him harder than he expected—ant to die. The quiet hum of the graveyard suddenly felt like a pressure on his chest. He glanced at the crystalline obelisks of his fallen team. The mories clawed at him again—blood, screaming, the heat of explosions, his voice shouting commands that never reached their mark in ti.

He looked back at the man, gritted his teeth.

"Don’t play with ," Ren said slowly. "I’ve had enough ghosts whispering what-ifs in my ear."

The man gave a soft chuckle, almost warm, but it didn’t reach his mismatched eyes.

"Oh, but I’m not a ghost, Ren. I’m very real. And I’m offering sothing no ghost could ever give you—a way to stop Alister... To save the world."

Ren turned his full attention to the man this ti—really looked at him.

The unsettling gleam in his mismatched eyes, the stillness in his posture, the faint echo of sothing evil behind his polite expression... It wasn’t just the words that unnerved Ren. It was the familiarity the man gave off... It was like Ren had seen him sowhere before, but he couldn’t rember where.

He sighed quietly, the sound barely audible over the ambient hum of the graveyard.

"I’m quite familiar with how things like this go... You show up with mysterious insight. You make an offer tailored to my pain. Then, slowly, I’ll find myself forced to make decisions that go against everything I stand for—just to justify the path you’ve nudged down."

He shook his head.

"I don’t know who you are, and to be perfectly honest... I don’t want to."

He took a step back, then turned fully away, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie.

"Have a good evening. And let’s never et again."

He started walking, his steps steady—asured. But then the man’s voice rose behind him, softer than before... not hollow this ti. Not sharp.

"I’ve lost people precious to as well."

Ren stopped mid-step.

His back was still turned, but his fingers curled slightly in his pockets. The voice hadn’t carried any of its earlier edge. No charm, no coaxing... just a whisper of sothing painfully human.

The silence between them stretched long, weighed down by the unsaid.

The man behind him continued, voice no longer silky or condescending—just quiet.

"I know what it’s like. To lose people you cared about. To wake up and rember they’re gone. To curse yourself for surviving."

Ren exhaled through his nose, jaw clenched.

Still, he didn’t turn.

"I stood where you’re standing, once. In front of graves. With questions. With guilt. With resolve. And I was given a choice too." A pause. "But unlike you, I didn’t walk away."

Ren slowly turned his head, just enough to glance over his shoulder.

"Then what?" he asked quietly. "You stopped a tyrant? Saved the world? Paid the price?"

The man chuckled dryly, not in mockery, but in rembrance. "Well, I guess... sothing like that. I tried. I failed. The world still spins. And now it’s soone else’s turn."

Ren turned fully now, eyes sharp.

"And you think that soone is ?"

The man’s mismatched gaze t his without flinching. "No. I know it is."

There was silence between them again, the low hum of the cetery lights the only sound. Then Ren gave a tired, cynical smile.

"Good speech. You should write for the Union’s drama sector."

He turned once more, back to the path.

"If your goal is to guilt into making a deal with the devil, save your breath. I already live with enough ghosts—I don’t need to carry yours—"

"Aren’t you curious why your Guildmaster is supporting Alister?"

Ren froze.

The man’s words hit like a sudden drop in temperature.

"...What did you just say?"

The man took a step closer, the light of a passing grav-car briefly illuminating the sharp angles of his face.

"Aren’t you curious," he repeated smoothly, "why your Guildmaster—your ntor—is supporting Alister?"

Ren slowly turned back around, his expression unreadable, but his eyes filled with storm.

"How do you know that?" he demanded.

"How do you know what the Guildmaster said? That was a closed conversation."

The man gave a half-smile, tipping his head as if in mock surprise.