The Snake God with SSS Rank Evolution System

Adam stared at Ignis’s innocent, beaming face—the utter trust shining in her eyes as she talked about the ancient being who had nearly killed them both.

’This girl...’ He reached out, his hands cupping her cheeks. Her skin was warm, flushed with her usual fiery energy, and surprisingly soft beneath his calloused fingers.

”Ignis,” Adam said, gently squishing her cheeks between his palms. ”You really trust him that easily?”

Ignis’s words came out muffled and distorted as her face was compressed. ”Mmm hmm! He ith good! He gave me funny potions and weird shiny ballth, and when I drank them, I got thtronger!”

Adam’s hands paused mid-squish. ”Wait. You drank something he gave you? Without checking?”

”Theyr weren’t danth-erouth!” Ignis insisted, though her muffled protest was somewhat undermined by the fact that Adam was still kneading her face like bread dough.

Adam’s squishing resumed with increased vigor. ”You can’t just accept things from strangers! It’s dangerous! What if it was poison?”

”Thorry! I’m thorry!” Ignis’s eyes were watering slightly from the combination of cheek compression and her own apologetic sincerity. ”I didn’t think—mmph—it wath bad!”

Adam continued his gentle assault, more out of exasperated affection than any real anger. ”That’s the problem! You need to think! Not everything shiny is safe!”

Before Ignis could formulate another muffled apology, a familiar chime echoed in Adam’s mind.

[System Alert: Companion Status Update]

[Ignis (Blazeheart Drake) - Condition: Improved]

[Bloodline Purity: Increased]

[Draconic Heritage: Further Awakened]

[New Trait Unlocked: ??? (Pending Full Recovery)]

Adam’s hands finally stilled on Ignis’s cheeks. His eyes widened slightly as he processed the notification.

’Her bloodline... got purer? From whatever Orion gave her?’ He looked at Ignis with new eyes—at the faint golden undertone in her usually crimson flames, at the subtle shift in her aura that he hadn’t noticed before. ’That old man... he’s actually helping her?’

Ignis, taking advantage of his momentary distraction, freed her cheeks from his grip and rubbed them with a pout. ”That hurt...”

Adam’s expression softened. He reached out again, but this time his touch was gentle—fingers brushing through her fiery hair, tucking a strand behind her ear.

”Sorry,” he murmured. ”I was just worried.” A pause. ”But it seems like whatever he gave you was actually good for you. Your bloodline is purer now.”

Ignis’s pout transformed instantly into a brilliant smile. ”Really?! So he really is nice!”

Adam’s expression shifted—a mix of exasperation and affection. ”Ignis. Next time a stranger offers you something, don’t just accept it. Check with me first. Please.”

Ignis nodded vigorously, her fiery hair bouncing. ”Okay... I’ll try.”

Adam looked at her—at this fierce, reckless, endlessly loyal drake who had thrown herself into certain death just to buy him a few more seconds. Something warm bloomed in his chest, pushing past the exhaustion and pain and worry.

Without thinking, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

Ignis went rigid in his arms, her usual exuberance momentarily stunned into silence. This was different from her tackles, her clinging, her enthusiastic hugs. This was Adam holding her—deliberate, gentle, protective.

”You,” Adam murmured against her hair, ”were amazing out there. You saved my life.” His arms tightened. ”Thank you, Ignis.”

Ignis’s face, pressed against his chest, flushed a deep crimson that had nothing to do with her flames. Her hands hovered awkwardly in the air before finally, hesitantly, settling on his back.

”I... of course I did,” she mumbled, her voice muffled. ”I’m strong. Really strong.”

Adam huffed a quiet laugh, the vibration rumbling through his chest. ”You are. You really are.”

Ignis burrowed deeper into the embrace, her voice even quieter. ”You have to be grateful, you know. For me being this amazing.”

Adam’s lips curved against her hair. ”I am. I said thank you, didn’t I?”

”Say it again.”

Adam laughed, warm and unguarded. ”Thank you, Ignis.”

Then Adam pulled back slightly from the embrace, his hands still resting on Ignis’s shoulders. His eyes were wide with realization.

”Wait. You said you felt something familiar about this place. About him.” He studied Ignis’s face. ”What exactly did you sense?”

Ignis tilted her head, her expression thoughtful—a rare look for her. ”His aura. It’s... like mine. But older. Way, way older. Like...” She struggled for words. ”Like if my fire was a candle and his was the sun. Same thing, but... bigger.”

Adam’s mind raced. ’Aura like hers... older... bigger...’

”Ignis.” His voice was careful, controlled. ”What is Orion?”

Ignis blinked, as if the answer should have been obvious. ”A dragon. Obviously.”

Adam stared at her.

”A dragon.”

”Mmhmm.” Ignis nodded vigorously, pleased that he was finally catching up. ”That’s why his aura felt familiar. He’s a dragon. Like me. Well, not exactly like me—he’s way older and bigger and stronger and—” She stopped, noticing Adam’s expression. ”What? You didn’t know?”

Adam’s hands fell from her shoulders. His mind was spinning, pieces clicking into place with alarming speed. The overwhelming power. The casual dismissal of their strongest attacks. The knowledge of bloodlines and ancient artifacts. The duty to guard things that predated civilization.

’Of course. Of course he was a dragon.’

”No,” Adam admitted slowly. ”I didn’t know. I mean, I knew he was powerful—obviously—but dragon?” He ran a hand through his hair. ”I’ve never met a real dragon before. You’re the closest thing, and you’re... well...”

Ignis puffed up indignantly. ”I’m a REAL dragon! Just... young! And small!”

Adam held up his hands placatingly. ”I know, I know. You’re a real dragon. A magnificent, powerful, young dragon.” He paused, then added dryly, ”Who nearly got herself killed trying to protect me.”

Ignis deflated slightly, but her eyes still held that fierce loyalty. ”Worth it.”

Adam’s expression softened. He reached out, cupping her cheek again.

”Ignis... thank you. Really.” He held her gaze. ”But please don’t do that again. I can’t lose you.”

Ignis’s cheeks flushed. She looked away, mumbling, ”I’ll try... but no promises. If you’re in danger, I’m helping.”

Adam sighed, but there was no real frustration in it. ”Stubborn lizard.”

”Dragon,” Ignis corrected automatically.

Adam’s mind was already racing ahead, processing the implications of Orion’s true nature. ’A dragon. An ancient, powerful dragon who’s been alive for millennia...’

”Hey.” Adam’s voice sharpened with sudden realization. ”If Orion is really a dragon, then he might know things. Things about bloodlines, about curses, about...” His voice dropped. ”About Alice. About what attacked her.”

Ignis’s eyes widened. ”You think he could help?”

Adam nodded slowly. ”Maybe. He recognized the Crown immediately. He knew about my bloodline. He even sensed that i was... different.” He met Ignis’s gaze. ”If anyone might know something about void entities or how to heal a damaged core, it could be him.”

Ignis’s face lit up. ”Then let’s ask him! Right now!” She grabbed Adam’s arm, already trying to drag him toward the door.

Adam planted his feet, halting her momentum. ”Ignis, wait. We can’t just barge in and demand answers. He’s not obligated to help us. He already spared our lives and healed us—that’s more than he had to do.”

Ignis pouted but stopped pulling. ”So... what do we do?”

Adam thought for a moment. ”We ask politely. We explain the situation. And we hope that his curiosity about us extends to wanting to help.” He looked toward the door, his expression resolute. ”But we have to be smart about this.”

Ignis nodded seriously. ”Okay. I’ll be good.”

Adam eyed her skeptically. ”Define ’good.’”

Ignis thought about it. ”I won’t set anything on fire while we talk.”

”That’s... actually a pretty good start.” Adam rose from the bed, ignoring the protest of his still-healing body.

Adam pushed open the wooden door, Ignis close at his heels, and stepped into a world of green.

They had emerged into what could only be described as a garden—though that word felt too small for what stretched before them. Terraces of carefully cultivated plants cascaded down a gentle slope, each level bursting with herbs, flowers, and vegetables that glowed with health. Stone pathways wound between the beds, and at the center of it all, a massive ancient tree spread its branches like a protective canopy.

And there, kneeling beside a bed of silver-leafed plants, was Orion.

The ancient dragon for Adam now knew what he was worked with the patient attention of a lifelong gardener. His long white hair was tied back, his robes dusted with soil, and his golden eyes studied each leaf with the same intensity he’d shown during their battle. In his hands, a small trowel moved with surprising delicacy.

Adam paused at the edge of the garden, suddenly feeling like an intruder. This was not the image of a terrifying ancient being. ’This was... peaceful.’

Orion didn’t look up. ”You should not be moving. Your body is still healing.”

Adam took a cautious step forward, ignoring the ache in his chest. ”I know. But I have questions. Would you be willing to answer them?”

Orion’s hands stilled. He set down the trowel and rose smoothly, turning to face them. His golden eyes swept over Adam—assessing, calculating—then flickered to Ignis, who was trying very hard to look polite.

”That depends,” Orion said evenly, ”on whether I know the answers. But is it not somewhat... presumptuous, to ask more of me after I have already spared your lives and healed your wounds?”

Adam met his gaze without flinching. ”I know. That’s why I’m willing to do whatever you need in return.”

A faint, dry smile touched Orion’s lips. ”You think I need your help? Child, I have lived for millennia. There is little I cannot do on my own.”

”Maybe,” Adam acknowledged. ”But you can’t leave this territory, can you?” He saw the flicker in Orion’s golden eyes and pressed on. ”You mentioned your duty. Guarding things that sleep. That means you’re bound here. You can’t just go wherever you want.” He held the ancient dragon’s gaze. ”So if there’s something you need done—something outside these borders—you can’t do it yourself. But we can.”

Orion was silent for a long moment. The garden around them seemed to hold its breath.

”You are perceptive,” he said finally. ”Annoyingly so.” He turned back to his plants, running a finger along a silver leaf. ”Very well. Ask your questions. If I know the answers, I will share them. And if there is something I need done...” He glanced back. ”I will tell you.”

Adam let out a slow breath, relief flooding through him. He reached inward, focusing on the sleeping presence within his soul.

”Before I ask... I need to show you something.”

Dark mist swirled before him, coalescing into a form that slowly materialized on the soft grass of the garden. Alice lay there—smaller than she should be, her sleek black fur dull, her breathing so shallow it was barely perceptible. The faint glow of her void core pulsed weakly beneath her skin, now wrapped in the silvery sheen of the Starlight Ward Adam had given her.

Ignis gasped softly, pressing closer to Adam’s side. ”Alice...”

Orion’s golden eyes lingered on Alice’s still form. For a long moment, the ancient dragon said nothing—simply watched, his expression lost in thought, his presence heavy with something that might have been understanding.

”This is Alice,” Adam said quietly. ”She’s... she’s my first companion. My family.” His voice roughened. ”She was attacked by something. A creature of void. It tried to take her essence, drain her completely. I managed to pull her back, but...” He gestured helplessly at her still form. ”Her core was damaged. She’s been like this ever since.”