Pendragon and rlin—two of the West’s most powerful magical bloodlines. Now, both resided within Erwin, and the internal conflict had to be resolved. Fortunately, Erwin had prepared for this. He already had a solution in mind, not just one.
He could use his own affinity to harmonize the bloodlines, forcing them into temporary coexistence. However, that was rely a stopgap asure. As his power grew, Erwin could feel the harmony fraying. Worse yet, a third energy resided within him—one far more dominant and overwhelming than the combined forces of Pendragon and rlin.
Therefore, Erwin devised a more drastic thod. He would seize this opportunity to use his own formidable strength to absorb both the Dragon Speaker and Pendragon bloodlines completely, compressing them into a single, new power.
It was an incredibly difficult task, but Erwin had to take the step. Only by doing so could he face the coming battle with confidence.
When he considered the enemy awaiting him, Erwin felt that no amount of preparation was excessive. Even if the na belonged to an impostor, it was enough to make a sane person tremble. Erwin refused to waste another second.
He imdiately began to mobilize the energy within his body.
Instantly, he felt a barrier shatter deep inside him. His bloodline abilities surged violently. The rlin bloodline and the Pendragon bloodline clashed, flowing in opposing currents. With every collision, dissipated energy lashed out, inflicting internal damage. A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of Erwin’s mouth, but he paid it no mind.
Taking a deep breath, he summoned the third power.
The change was imdiate. Erwin’s hair lengthened rapidly, turning the deepest black until it reached his waist. His face shifted subtly, his deanor transforming entirely. The gentle, refined nobleman vanished, replaced by a figure radiating sheer, oppressive might. His eyes were ruthless, godlike. Just a glance felt like plunging into an icy abyss, an aura that commanded others to maintain distance.
In the corner of the quarters, the small black serpent—Ebony—had just returned. It froze, body rigid, cowering in the shadows. This version of its master was alien, transcendent, and terrifying. It lay on the ground, letting out a low, trembling hiss, too afraid to move closer.
Erwin ignored the creature. In this state, he felt the detachnt himself—a cold indifference toward everything that made him uneasy. This was exactly why he needed the bloodlines to harmonize.
He channeled his power, encasing the Dragon Speaker and Pendragon bloodlines. As his energy approached, the two bloodlines reacted as if facing a natural predator, scrambling to flee. But there was no escape. His power yanked them back, assaulting them directly.
The bloodlines trembled and resisted, but against this overwhelming force, their struggle was futile. Erwin could feel them being devoured, his own energy growing stronger with every passing second.
The process was agonizingly slow. Days passed as the sun rose and fell.
Three days later, sunlight stread into the room once more. Erwin opened his eyes.
Behind him, a faint purple phantom flickered for a split second. Ebony saw it clearly: the silhouette of a dragon, the kind found in ancient Eastern legends.
Erwin rose and walked to the mirror. His reflection had changed drastically—long black hair, a face with distinct Eastern features. He took a deep breath, suppressing the volatile energy. Slowly, his appearance shifted back to his familiar silver-white hair and original features.
He lifted a hand toward a glass of water on the table. Without touching it, the glass flew into his grasp. Erwin nodded in satisfaction. The Dragon Speaker bloodline still had its uses.
Originally, the bloodline had granted talents like the Selwyn family’s dragon-affinity, the Vablatsky’s telekinesis, and the Cavendish’s ability to amplify magic through surges of power. The Demos contributed formidable learning aptitude. Now, Erwin had fused all four, elevating them to new heights.
More importantly, he had gained a crucial new ability: Dragon Language. Not the simplistic communication of modern dragons, but the true tongue of ancient dragons—dragons that wielded genuine magic rather than just breathing fire. Modern dragons breathed fla, but the ancients could use magic to fight. That was true power.
Though it seed no ancient dragons remained in this world for him to practice with, the ability was still valuable.
As for Pendragon’s bloodline, the gift was simpler: magical immunity. A direct, unassuming power. As a king who once opposed the wizarding world, Pendragon was a nightmare for wizards, relying on this immunity to suppress them. Had rlin not possessed a unique advantage, he might never have defeated Morgana le Fay. For Erwin, this ability was incredibly useful, though its limits remained to be tested.
Seeing Erwin return to normal, Ebony cautiously approached. It let out a tentative hiss.
Erwin looked down. "What? Were you frightened?"
Hearing his familiar voice, Ebony sighed in relief and slithered into his arms, rubbing its head against his chest.
Erwin smiled. "Don’t worry. I’ll get you a treat later. That’ll make you feel better."
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