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

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"The 'Race Transformation Ritual'?"

Owen inquired, slightly puzzled.

"What does it entail?"

Barlo began to explain with his melodious voice, "The Race Transformation Ritual is a profound magic that delves into the essence of life and the deep connections of the soul. I won't go into the intricate details."

"You can roughly understand it as a necessary process for every saint who arrives in Novalia. They must undergo this ritual to gain the abilities of their respective race."

Owen's brows raised in surprise, "So, after the Race Transformation Ritual, I could transform into a dragon?"

"Exactly, Saint," Barlo said with a wide grin.

"It's also used by members of our tribe born with mixed bloodlines, helping them transform into dragons with a singular bloodline."

Owen looked even more puzzled, "Isn't it beneficial to have a variety of dragon bloodlines?"

Scratching his head, Barlo shrugged slightly, "Well, pure dragon blood is always preferable, the more the better."

"But with the passage of hundreds of thousands of years, pure dragon blood has become increasingly rare. Having multiple dragon bloodlines is not as advantageous as it once was."

Nodding in understanding, Owen said, "Let's proceed, then."

Barlo stopped Owen again, a hint of concern flashing in his eyes,

"The Transformation Ritual will be an extremely painful and prolonged process, as it involves complete reshaping of the body and soul. You must endure it, Saint."

Before Owen could respond, Barlo slapped his forehead, "But you are the saint, how could you not endure?"

"And what if I can't endure it?" Owen asked.

Barlo's expression subtly shifts as he sighs and speaks, "The lighter outcome is soul damage, leading to a lifetime of simplemindedness."

"The graver consequence... physical disintegration and the annihilation of the soul. But you, as a saint, need not worry." 𝑓𝑟ℯℯ𝓌ℯ𝒷𝑛ℴ𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

"Your body has been transformed by the power of the sun, and your soul is enveloped by the power of the stellar. There should be no issues."

His words may sound casual, but the concern in his eyes doesn't fade an iota.

Owen tightens inwardly, realizing the Race Transformation Ritual is far from trivial.

Following Barlo, they traverse forests and valleys, finally arriving at a secluded mountain range.

There lies the sacred ground of the dragons - the Dragon God Temple.

Protected by ancient magic, it opens only for significant rituals.

As they draw nearer, Owen senses the air charged with a tense, electric atmosphere, yet there's a solemn tranquility.

The Race Transformation Ritual site is meticulously arranged, highlighting its supreme importance and sanctity.

Dragons of all ranks gather, each donned in garments representing their status, embroidered with complex runes and patterns shimmering metallically in the sunlight.

A vast platform, lavishly adorned with rare gems and golden carpets, takes center stage, surrounded by massive braziers with blue flames that occasionally spit sparks resembling miniature dragon's breath.

The towering dragons greet Owen warmly, addressing him as "saint."

Since defeating Malcolm, Owen has earned their recognition.

They hold high hopes for his upcoming Race Transformation Ritual, seeing him as the chosen one to bring glory to their kind.

Malcolm, shaking with excitement, almost yells to Owen, "Saint, go for it!"

Ever since his defeat, he has become a fervent admirer of Owen, diligently studying by his side, eager to uncover the secret of Owen's triumph against the odds.

But what secrets could Owen possibly have?

It's Barlo's intervention that finally frees Owen from Malcolm's persistent inquiries.

At the ritual site, concentric circles of magic arrays are etched onto the ground, each line glowing faintly.

They intertwine to form a vast magical network.

At the center of the magic array sits a stone platform engraved with dragon totems, where Owen will undergo his transformation.

As the ceremony commences, drums and horns resonate through the sky.

Dragon shamans chant ancient spells, their voices harmonious and powerful, enhancing the magic array's luminescence.

The entire valley is engulfed in this energy, as if the whole world bears witness to this moment.

Dragons surround the platform, speculating on Owen's potential transformation.

"I think he'll turn into a red dragon. They wield the most powerful magic, and with saint's extraordinary mind power, he could master our forbidden spells."

"Blue dragons seem more fitting, given their inexhaustible mana and profound wisdom. He could lead us to dominance over Novalia again."

"Storm dragons would be great too, with their immense destructive power."

"What about green dragons?"

This last suggestion causes an uproar, and everyone playfully scolds the speaker.

"Get out of here. Green dragons, known for their mastery in life magic and alchemy, play a supporting role and aren't befitting for the saint's status," retorts one dragon heatedly.

"That's not entirely true, green dragons are an indispensable part of our dragon race," another adds thoughtfully.

"What about the yellow dragons? They might not excel in magic, but they're unmatched in close combat and have the toughest scales. Saint's demonstrated combat prowess aligns perfectly with the yellow dragons," someone suggests.

The lively debate continues as Owen commences his Transformation Ritual.

As the shamans' chants reach a crescendo, the magic array at the site radiates blinding light, seeming to engulf both the platform and Owen.

Standing atop the stone platform, Owen takes a deep breath, surrendering his fate to the ancient magic and the enigmatic power of the dragons.

His body begins to undergo subtle changes, with golden patterns emerging on his skin, spreading like flowing liquid gold across his body.

The clouds above swirl rapidly, forming a colossal vortex.

A brilliant column of light pierces through, connecting the mysterious powers between heaven and earth.

Owen's body is enveloped in this light, experiencing an indescribable surge of energy reshaping his bones, blood, and muscles.

Under this transformative force, Owen's form expands.

His back bulges as a pair of golden dragon wings majestically unfurl amidst the awed gazes of the crowd.

His facial features become more regal, his eyes shimmering with a sun-like brilliance.

His limbs grow robust and muscular, a tail emerges, adorned with golden scales. freew ebnov el

"Gold Divine Dragon... It's a Gold Divine Dragon!" exclaims a member of the tribe, astounded.

"Indeed, Saint has awakened as a Gold Divine Dragon, a dragon unseen in our race for five millennia!" exclaims one elder in awe.

"Heavens, the Gold Divine Dragon encompasses the traits of all dragon races. Saint will surely lead us to a new era of glory!" another adds, visibly excited.

"The emergence of the Gold Divine Dragon signifies our dragons' impending reign over the Novalia continent once again!" voices echo around, filled with renewed hope and pride.

Barlo, standing outside the magic array, gazes at Owen, murmuring in disbelief, "A Gold Divine Dragon... indeed, the elders' sacrifices were not in vain."

Owen's transformation ritual continues, but his condition is precarious.

The influx of the Gold Divine Dragon bloodline's power brings an unbearable pressure.

It's the concentrated essence and wisdom of the dragon ancestors, a torrential force flooding into his bloodline.

His body strains under this immense power; muscles swell as if they would rip apart, bones creak threatening to shatter, and golden scales flicker with hairline fractures under the intense strain.

His hands clench tightly, veins bulging, his body writhing in a constant battle of expansion and contraction.

Simultaneously, a storm rages in Owen's soul space.

Memories and knowledge from the Gold Divine Dragon bloodline crash into his consciousness like a wild tsunami.

Ancient languages, complex magical formations, combat techniques, historical fragments – the relentless assault of ancestral powers torments his soul, the sensation of tearing deep within him almost unbearable.