School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start

Chapter 8: The Outcome of the Prophecy - Death

As time ticked away, Owen was immersed in the dual blessings of the sun and the stars.

He closed his eyes, attempting to feel the changes within.

Initially, he just felt a warm energy flowing inside him, like an ever-expanding river filling every vein.

But as time progressed, he started to perceive more profound changes.

The powers of the stars and the sun seemed to intertwine within him, forming a new type of energy.

It rooted deep within his cells, even in his genes, altering his very essence.

Owen's perception became sharper.

He could feel every vibration in the air, every movement of a speck of dust.

His heartbeat and breathing synchronized with the rhythms of nature, as if he had become part of the natural world, resonating with the pulse of the universe.

In these profound changes, Owen even felt his lifespan extending, his body becoming more perfect with every cell replication, as if he was gradually transcending human limits towards a more extraordinary existence.

However, these changes were too deep for Owen to fully comprehend.

Three days passed.

Owen slowly awoke from the blessings of the sun and stars.

His surroundings were still as they were three days ago, with the elders and dragonfolk surrounding him.

They were all waiting for Owen, waiting for the awakening of the Saint of the Dragons.

Dragons have long lifespans; a day or two does not matter much to them.

Moreover, it had been twelve hundred years since a saint appeared among dragons.

Now that a saint had emerged, it was a momentous occasion for the clan.

He looked towards the twelve dragon elders and bowed deeply, "Owen Douglas pays his respects to the elders. I am grateful for your endless care."

The faces of the twelve elders were somewhat pale, one of them, who bore no dragon-like features, spoke with a hint of weakness:

"Saint, there's no need for thanks. This is our duty. For the journey ahead, let Barlo accompany you. We need to enter hibernation now."

Owen looked around at the twelve elders, seeing the hope they held for him, their eyes shining with light.

He felt a stir in his heart, understanding that it must not have been easy for the elders to bestow upon him the Sun and Stellar Blessing.

His nose tingled slightly with emotion: "Elders, please rest well."

Barlo, standing beside him, sighed softly and said aloud: "Elders, rest assured, I will take good care of the saint."

In this harmonious atmosphere, the expression of a young dragon stood out starkly.

His scales gleamed with youthful radiance, but his eyes were filled with dissatisfaction and challenge.

During a pause in Owen's conversation with the elders, this young dragon suddenly stepped forward, his voice cutting through the quiet air like a sharp whistle.

"A saint? Ha, just an outsider. Why do we dragons need a foreigner to guide our future?"

His words were sharp, filled with provocation.

He stepped out from the crowd, scoffing again: "I want to see what abilities he has to receive the dual blessings of the sun and the stars."

The air tensed with this sudden challenge, and the eyes of the other dragons turned towards the young dragon.

The expressions of the twelve great elders became complex as they exchanged glances, a hint of worry flashing in their eyes.

They knew this young dragon was a hot-blooded member of their clan, unyielding in character, but his open challenge to the saint was undoubtedly a sign of disagreement with their decision.

After all, bestowing the Sun and Stellar Blessing upon a single saint was unprecedented.

"Malcolm, this is a decision made by our Council of Elders. Are you defying the Council's resolution?"

The Grand Elder had to step forward to support Owen.

Owen internally shook his head, thinking, "This is bad."

Such conflicts among the younger generation, with elders stepping down to intervene on his behalf, could further diminish his standing among the clan's youth.

As expected, Malcolm, with the defiance of a rebellious youth, raised his voice even louder:

"Elders, I am not defying you, but I want to see what this saint is really capable of!"

A few other young dragons also became restless, eager to challenge Owen themselves.

Facing this sudden challenge, Owen didn't respond immediately.

His gaze remained calm as he observed the young dragon.

He knew this was not just a personal challenge, but a test of his status as a saint.

His response now would determine the dragons' perception of him and his future in Dragon Echo Valley.

Just as the Grand Elder was about to speak, Owen stepped forward, flexing his body, and said:

"Elders, I would like to test my current strength. If Malcolm is willing to accompany me, I see no reason to refuse."

"No way!" The Grand Elder immediately objected.

"Malcolm is already at the gold-tier. His mastery of dragon spells and physical strength far surpass yours. You may have the power, but you're no match for him right now."

(In Novalia, the warrior hierarchy is divided into bronze-tier, silver-tier, gold-tier, diamond-tier, master-tier, grandmaster-tier, sage-tier, and god-tier. The magus hierarchy follows the same levels.)

Malcolm laughed uproariously, hands on hips:

"Grand Elder, you underestimate me. I won't use dragon spells or physical strength against the 'saint,' so rest assured."

His way of saying 'saint' was sarcastic and mocking, clearly intended to humiliate Owen.

The Grand Elder looked at Malcolm with irritation:

"Your combat technique ranks second among the younger generation."

"Even without strength, you still have an advantage. It's better to wait until the saint has had more time to train."

Malcolm frowned slightly.

Seeing the Grand Elder's stance, he relented:

"Saint, I hope you grow quickly. Next time, I'll challenge you myself, to show you what it means to be a dragon..."

Before he could finish, Owen interrupted lightly: "No need to wait. Let's do it now."

Immediately, the clan members were abuzz with surprise.

"Has the saint gone mad? Does he really think he's invincible just because he received the power of stellar and the sun?"

"Arrogant and proud, but without matching strength. Let Malcolm teach him a lesson."

"The saint is so impulsive; it's disappointing!"

"Exactly, the Grand Elder even gave him a way out, but he just refused."

"Too arrogant."

"..."

The Grand Elder, with his mouth slightly agape, was about to speak again.

Owen responded with a confident smile:

"Grand Elder, you too wish to see why I became the Saint of the Dragons. This battle will show you that the blessings you bestowed on me were not in vain."

The Grand Elder's eyes flickered, his expression touched.

Owen had never undergone formal training, yet he held such confidence.

"Very well, this is my Saint of the Dragons!" the Grand Elder laughed heartily, his laughter echoing to the heavens.

"Go ahead and fight boldly, and show the young dragons what a true genius looks like."

The crowd instantly made room for the two.

Malcolm's eyes blazed with anger, unable to believe Owen's audacity to dismiss him, a gold-tier powerhouse, so arrogantly.

Owen, with an expressionless face, slowly exhaled.

His only chance at victory was the 'Prophecy' ability.

"Activate Prophecy!" he commanded.

"Yes, host. Prophecy activated," the system responded.

As the system's voice fell, "Owen" stepped out of Owen's body, a visual representation of the future.

Owen saw Malcolm's lips move slightly, then Malcolm lunged towards him instantaneously.

With no sign, no warning, Malcolm resembled a fierce beast that had spotted its prey, twisting his body and unleashing an astonishing burst of strength.

His movements were swift and precise, the power in his body erupting like a long-dormant volcano, a signature aura of a gold-tier warrior.

Malcolm's body traced a perfect arc in the air, his hand transforming into a dragon claw shimmering with cold, deadly light.

The claw tore through the air with a howling sound, like the Grim Reaper's scythe searching for the next soul in the night.

His gaze was cold, focused, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, driven only by the instinct to fight and the desire to win.

"Owen" observed as Owen remained unaware of Malcolm's imminent attack.

When he finally realized, Malcolm's dragon claw was already perilously close, laden with lethal threat.

Time seemed to freeze at that moment.

A flicker of terror crossed Owen's eyes.

His reaction was quick, but compared to the speed of a gold-tier fighter, it was painfully slow.

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