Drakion and Lizzy continued battling the rampaging dragons, but alas, it was leading nowhere—the dragons had begun instinctively defending against one another, their minds twisted by so unseen force.
The onlookers watched the scene with barely-contained excitent. Never in their wildest dreams had they imagined they would witness dragons clashing in such a violent spectacle.
Of course, among the crowd were fools—unwise individuals who still harbored the ridiculous notion of taming Drakion and the other dragons. Fortunately for them, a survivor from the earlier bloodbath stepped in. This man, shaken and wide-eyed, quickly silenced the naive with a recounting of what had happened when soone dared suggest taming.
As they heard his tale, a silent shiver ran through the crowd. Cold sweat trickled down their backs. They had not expected dragons to despise such words with such absolute fury.
Now, all they waited for was the dragons to tear each other apart—so they could swoop in and reap the spoils.
Drakion, anwhile, was being worn down. Though Lizzy provided support, it wasn’t enough to turn the tide. What weighed on Drakion the most wasn’t the strength of his foes—it was who they were.
He couldn’t bear to severely injure or kill them—they were mbers of his own clan.
Even when he did land a hit, they were dragons. Their regeneration might not rival his, but it still far outstripped most races.
The twin Poison Dragon sisters were the greatest threat, striking in perfect sync. The Fire and Ice Dragons remained formidable too—all of them wielding Origin Saint Battle Strength.
"Lizzy, follow my lead from now on," Drakion commanded telepathically. He hadn’t spoken aloud since the battle began—avoiding human recognition by keeping his voice sealed.
"I’m launching a large-scale attack. When I do, stay hidden in the shadows. The mont is right, sneak in and strike one of them on the head with your royalty aura. It should bring them back."
He had asked Drax if Lizzy could also awaken them. Drax had confird: only those of the Royal Dragon Bloodline—and Drakion himself—could do so.
Relief had surged through him when he heard that. It gave him hope... and a plan.
"Okay, Master," Lizzy responded, ready.
Drakion stepped forward, standing boldly before the gathering of hostile dragons, Lizzy close behind him.
He smiled faintly, the battle fire in his heart flaring.
"Well... I never thought this fight would push to try so many things."
"Draconic Art: Draconic Transformation!"
Ding!
[Activating the Fire Dragon Bloodline]
Suddenly, flas erupted across Drakion’s draconic body. His obsidian scales shifted, burning into a fiery golden red. His golden eyes blazed like molten suns, his horns igniting into searing fla. Even his breath shimred with fire.
His wings unfurled, stretching wide as infernos danced along their length. Smoke curled from his nostrils with every breath.
The crowd gasped as one.
They had never seen a transformation like this.
"It seems this black dragon has dual affinities... but what’s that first one?"
"Sa here. I’ve never sensed that kind of energy before..."
"Shhh! Quiet! The fight’s heating up—watch!"
Drakion flared his wings and soared skyward like a flaming cot. The Fire Dragon snarled, taking to the skies in hot pursuit.
Drakion turned his gaze upon the charging beast.
"Fire Dragon Art: Fire Breath!"
He opened his maw and unleashed a torrent of infernal fury. The Fire Dragon retaliated with its own roaring breath of fla.
Two titanic torrents collided in the sky, the heavens igniting with their clash. It was a storm of fire—majestic, consuming, divine.
For a mont, they held in stalemate.
Then, slowly—inevitably—Drakion’s flas began to dominate. His breath overpowered Blaze’s, pushing through inch by inch, until the searing tide devoured the Fire Dragon’s attack.
Boom!
Blaze was engulfed and hurled downward, crashing into the earth like a fallen star.
When Drakion heard this, he harrumphed and continued his flight. Yet, as he soared higher, he felt it—an invisible pressure weighing down on him, like a force attempting to drag him back to the earth.
When he finally reached the place he desired, he halted mid-air. His eyes narrowed as he glanced below—and what he saw made his breath catch.
The skeleton stretched far beyond his imagination. Even from this towering height, the end of it remained hidden from view, lost in the horizon’s haze.
His mind turned to the enemy responsible. Just how powerful had this being been—to leave such a colossal corpse behind?
He wrenched himself from the thought.
Below, the dragons had shifted their attention to him, their gazes blazing with fury—Blaze’s defeat had enraged them, and now they surged toward Drakion with burning intent.
Exactly as he had planned.
A still teor is rely a rock. But a teor in motion—fierce, blazing, and fast—is a force of nature, a cataclysm that can annihilate millions.
That was what Drakion intended to beco.
"Fire Draconic Art: Ruinous Tail Fire Sweep!"
Though originally a Devouring Dragon Art, this technique remained his own—Drakion’s birthright. With mastery over his many draconic bloodlines, he could wield it seamlessly, unbound by its original constraints.
As he invoked the art, his tail began to spin violently, morphing into a flaming drill—an inferno whirling with unstoppable montum.
Then, Drakion turned downward—and fell.
Like a star descending to shatter the heavens, his body blazed as he plunged through the sky, flas roaring around him, turning the firmant into a furnace.
The dragons roared in response. They took flight and rose to intercept, unleashing their own draconic breaths. Streams of ice, fire, and poison seared through the air toward the descending dragon.
But Drakion was too fast—faster than thought, faster than fear. In a heartbeat, he was upon them.
Their breath attacks struck—but they were obliterated, scattered like mist before a storm by the sheer force of his blazing drill-tail.
The power of the fall multiplied tenfold by gravity, his tail a flaming spiral of destruction as he tore through the air.
Before the dragons could even regroup for another strike—
Drakion was already in their midst.
And then—
BOOM!
A devastating explosion echoed through the sky, shaking the heavens, as fire and shockwaves burst outward from the epicenter.
A/N: Well, a reader has already claid one of the spots to na an heir of the Progenitor Dragons. Two more spots remain—who will claim them next?
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