Fafnir walked down a long hallway towards a set of large, black doors with golden inscriptions. The doors were at least four ters tall, towering structures that made the nine-foot-tall dragon emperor look small.
Fafnir’s hair swayed behind him as he reached the doors with overconfident strides. His expression was cold, as expected of the dragon emperor. Nothing was ever funny to him. He was a conqueror, a disaster... Happiness was not part of his dictionary.
Fafnir’s muscled hands found their way onto the surface of the doors. The muscles strained visibly as the doors began to creak loudly, followed by a deep grunt from Fafnir. In no ti, the doors swung back and apart as Fafnir pushed them open.
The doors opened to reveal a large hall with a dark, polished floor and a high ceiling with three massive chandeliers hanging. There was nothing in the room except for three items at the center of the hall. Fafnir’s eyes glowed deeply as he made his way towards the items, but then, he faltered in his steps and tripped, landing with one knee on the floor.
His heart beat wildly as tears suddenly spilled from his eyes. Fafnir’s expression, for the first ti, changed from cold to sorrow.
"Sol... My son..." Fafnir muttered in shock. Sothing had disappeared from, erased from existence. But if that was the only one, it wouldn’t be that surprising for him. This, though, was different. Sol, his son, had been erased from history. He never existed in the first place. From now onwards, no one would know Sol ever existed, except for higher beings like the gods and above, Fafnir himself, and the perpetrator...
"ETHAN!" The na did not echo... It tore.
The hall shook violently as Fafnir’s roar carved through the air, splitting the silence into sothing jagged and unbearable. The polished black floor beneath him cracked in a spiderweb pattern, fractures racing outward as if they were trying to escape him.
His breathing grew uneven, heavy, and violent. Each inhale dragged in more than air: rage, grief, sothing ancient and primal clawing its way to the surface.
"You dare..."
His voice trembled from restraint that was failing.
"You dare touch what is mine..."
BOOOOOOOOM!!!
The explosion ca without warning. Power erupted from him in a catastrophic surge, slamming into the walls, the pillars, the very structure of the hall. The chandeliers above shattered instantly, raining molten fragnts of crystal that never reached the ground; they vaporized mid-fall under the pressure.
The walls cracked, collapsed, and reford, only to crack again. Fafnir stood, his aura spiraling violently around him like a storm given form. His grief had no direction, so it beca destruction. A pillar to his left... gone, a section of the ceiling... ripped apart. The air itself distorted, unable to maintain cohesion under the sheer weight of his presence.
"ERASED?!"
His voice broke into a snarl.
"FROM EXISTENCE?!"
Another blast. The entire hall trembled, the foundations groaning as if they were alive and suffering under him.
"I GAVE HIM LIFE!"
The ground caved beneath his feet.
"I RAISED HIM!"
The pressure intensified.
"I WATCHED HIM GROW!"
His claws dug into the air itself, ripping through invisible layers as if trying to grab sothing that wasn’t there anymore.
"AND YOU..."
His voice dropped, low and deadly.
"You... took him from ..."
Silence followed, the kind of silence that ca before sothing worse. Fafnir’s chest rose and fell slowly, once, twice, then he turned. His gaze locked onto the center of the hall, the only place untouched. The only place that had not bent, broken, or shattered under his rage.
The three items stood there. Unmoving, untouched, and unaffected, as if his power did not have permission to reach them. Fafnir stared. For a long mont, he didn’t move.
Then he stepped forward. Each step was heavy, asured, and controlled, but beneath that control, sothing monstrous coiled tighter and tighter.
The first item was a sword.
It stood upright, embedded into the floor as though the world itself had been forced to hold it in place. It was massive, easily seven feet tall, its blade wide and impossibly dense, forged from a tal so dark it seed to drink in the light around it. Veins of molten crimson ran through the blade, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
The edge was perfect, unchipped.
The hilt was wrapped in scaled leather, blackened and ancient, while the guard curved outward like draconic wings mid-spread. At its center sat a single gem, deep red, swirling slowly like a contained storm of blood and fire. It didn’t radiate power... it contained it violently.
The second was armor. It hovered slightly above the ground, piece by piece aligned as if waiting for its master. It was dark, obsidian-like, each plate layered with precision, etched with intricate crimson lines that glowed faintly, forming patterns that resembled ancient draconic scripts long lost to ti. The chestplate bore a single symbol... a dragon devouring a star. Its pauldrons were massive, curved upward into sharp, regal points, while the gauntlets ended in claw-like extensions, each finger capable of tearing through reality itself. The armor was not just protection; it was authority, war, dominion given form.
The third was a crown. It floated above a small pedestal, rotating slowly. Unlike the others, it was not heavy in appearance. It was... absolute. Forged from black gold, its structure was jagged yet elegant, shaped like intertwined horns that curved upward and outward, framing the invisible head it awaited.
At its center was a gem, a shifting core of draconic essence, swirling with countless hues of power, like a condensed fragnt of a dragon’s very soul. This was not a symbol of rulership: it was proof of it.
Fafnir stopped before them. His breathing steadied, but his eyes burned.
"So this is how it is..." he muttered.
His voice was quieter now, but far more dangerous.
"They take..."
His hand reached out.
"And I remind them..."
His fingers wrapped around the hilt of the sword. The mont he touched it, the hall scread. A deep, resonant vibration tore through the space as the weapon awakened, the crimson veins flaring violently as if recognizing its master.
Fafnir pulled, and the sword ca free effortlessly. The weight of it was nothing to him.
"...what it ans to lose."
The armor moved, assembling on him piece by piece, snapping into place over his body with perfect precision, each segnt locking in with a deep, tallic resonance.
Chest, shoulders, arms, legs... the mont the final piece settled, his presence changed. It beca denser, more absolute... more final. Fafnir reached for the crown.
For a brief mont, his hand paused. A flicker of mory: Sol.
Then, it vanished. His fingers closed around the crown.
"You erased my son..."
He lifted it.
"Then I will erase your future."
The crown descended, resting upon his head, and the world bent. Reality itself acknowledged the shift. The Dragon Emperor was no longer restrained. His aura didn’t explode outward; it settled heavy, oppressive, and inevitable.
"Every child you have..." His voice was calm. "I will hunt them."
He took a step forward, and the ground beneath him cracked, submitting to his presence.
"I will break them."
Another step.
"I will tear them apart."
The doors behind him trembled.
"I will make you watch."
His eyes glowed... pure gold, burning with sothing far beyond rage now. It was sothing colder.
"And when you have nothing left..."
He stopped. His gaze lifted as if he could already see Ethan.
"I will end you."
Silence. The hall couldn’t contain him anymore.
CRAAAAAAACK!!!
Space split open behind him, a massive tear forming as raw draconic power forced a path through reality itself. Fafnir didn’t look back. He didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward and vanished into the tear, leaving behind nothing but a broken hall... and a war that had just beco personal.
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