That faint yet pure ripple of space-time was like an invisible key, silently touching the deepest reaches of the ruined azure-gold body.
In this isolated gorge, silent for countless ages, a faint spark of consciousness flickered in the darkness.
Dialga's ancient remnant soul gradually broke free of the mire of chaos and awakened completely.
He stirred within the void and, driven by instinct, immediately followed that familiar ripple of law through his memories.
The Space-Time Dragon.
That name occupied a very special place in the long river of Dialga's memories.
That youngster had not belonged to the orthodox ranks of the Nine Great Dragon Kings, but was an outstanding member of the third generation, born when the dragon race was at its zenith.
From birth, that descendant had enjoyed the favor of the space-time laws of the entire Great Thousand World, possessing talent so extraordinary it left others speechless.
After crossing the threshold of godhood, that descendant had effortlessly condensed a space-time godhead that even the older generation coveted.
In a mere thirty thousand years, that junior had easily reached the realm of a First-Level God, a height ordinary gods could not touch even after millions of years.
At that monstrously prodigious rate of growth, another few tens of thousands of years of accumulation would have made breaking through the barrier to God King as natural as water flowing into a completed channel.
Even taking another step upward and completely surpassing the veteran Nine Great Dragon Kings would have been far from an unattainable fantasy.
Thinking of that dazzling genius of his race inevitably dragged Dialga's thoughts back into those unbearable years.
An irrepressible wave of sorrow and helplessness rose within his previously tranquil ancient consciousness.
It had been a catastrophe that buried the entire dragon race of the Divine