Only one week had been enough.
In barely seven days, France was no more. It had been swept away, conquered, annexed by a foreign power foreign to their very world. What was once a proud and independent nation was now nothing more than occupied territory, reshaped in the image of a new dominant species: the dragons.
Paris, once the capital of light and culture, now resembled a sinister fortress, dominated by imnse dark towers with sharp forms. The Eiffel Tower itself, forrly a global symbol of elegance and innovation, had been transford into a terrifying draconic watchtower, crowned with glimring runes and eternal flas of purple fire. Everywhere the eye could see, dark banners bearing the royal coat of arms of the dragons flapped in the wind, constantly reminding the humans still alive of their new condition: slaves or fugitives, but never again free.
At the four corners of French territory, colossal installations had been erected at superhuman speed thanks to the advanced magic and dinsional engineering of the invaders. These enormous black obelisk-shaped edifices, crossed by complex and brilliant runes, stood proudly at the borders. They were connected to each other by currents of magical energy visible to the naked eye, thus forming a web of frightening power.
The planned day had finally arrived. At dawn, these draconic obelisks had activated simultaneously, emitting a deep rumble that made the ground tremble throughout the entire region. The runes carved on their surface blazed intensely with a reddish light, imdiately projecting columns of pure energy toward the sky.
In a few seconds, a gigantic magical wave, similar to a translucent veil of a slightly purplish color, spread rapidly in all directions. This energy curved elegantly above the entire territory, perfectly joining each obelisk at the borders, thus forming an imnse protective do of pure magical energy.
Seen from afar, this do was as magnificent as it was terrifying: a gigantic bubble with iridescent and shifting reflections, traversed by filants of incandescent magic. This barrier recognized only one energy signature: that of the dragons. No human, no hunter, no other creature could now cross this impassable frontier without the direct authorization of the draconic masters.
In the heart of Paris, on the esplanade facing the transford Eiffel Tower, a gigantic draconic platform had been built. Surrounded by sculpted obsidian columns representing majestic and threatening dragons, this central square was intended to welco the draconic royal family and all the nobles of their species.
Dragon guards in heavy armor silently patrolled the streets emptied of all human life, their reptilian eyes pitilessly scrutinizing every shadowy corner. The few humans still alive had been grouped in secure camps on the periphery, constantly watched by these sa inflexible guardians, awaiting an uncertain fate.
On this cold and sinister morning, Vaerath, commander of the draconic forces, stood at the center of the royal platform. His dark scales glead under the pale light of day, his sharp yellow eyes coldly observing the completed work.
A young dragon officer nad Zyrath approached respectfully, bowing slightly:
- "Commander, the dinsional barrier is activated and perfectly functional. The territory is now completely secured. No external intrusion will be possible without our explicit agreent."
Vaerath nodded slowly, satisfied.
- "Excellent. Are the preparations for the arrival of His Majesty Maelor, King Eldorath, Princess Elystria, and the noble families complete?"
Zyrath nodded:
- "Everything is ready, my commander. The royal quarters are arranged according to the most demanding draconic traditions. The magical and technological installations are operational."
"Perfect. Make sure nothing disturbs their arrival. No delays, no unforeseen events. The royal family and nobility must find here a new heart for our empire, worthy of their rank and power."
Zyrath bowed deeply:
- "At your orders, my commander."
As the young dragon moved away, Vaerath silently contemplated the magical do that now protected their new capital. His cold and impassive gaze nevertheless hid a deep and worried reflection.
This victory was total, crushing. Yet, deep in his mind, a subtle doubt persisted, a strange presentint that he couldn’t completely ignore. Sothing told him that this conquest would not be as simple, as absolute as it appeared.
But he quickly swept away this troubling thought, focusing on the imminence of the welcoming ceremony. For now, nothing must disturb the definitive establishnt of dragon rule over this world.
In the cold and humid darkness beneath Paris, where daylight had never penetrated, a handful of humans still desperately attempted to resist the draconic invasion. They were all that remained of the French resistance, these anonymous heroes who had miraculously survived the initial attack. Once numbering in the thousands, their number had dwindled to a hundred, at most.
These resistants, led by Adrien Valcourt, the forr national coordinator of dinsional crises, had taken refuge in the labyrinthine sewers of the capital. Adrien, a respected veteran, bore on his age marked face the stigmata of recent tragedies. His graying hair and poorly shaved beard accentuated his severe and tired appearance, but his eyes still held a glimr of inflexible hope, the ultimate spark of a man refusing to capitulate.
The previous resistance base, once hidden in a secret bunker under the Invalides, had to be urgently abandoned after the complete takeover of the country by the dragons. Now, they had taken refuge even deeper under the city, in a forgotten section of the sewers, away from known or patrolled areas.
Adrien slowly crossed the dark and narrow corridors, dimly lit by makeshift lamps powered by small mana batteries. The atmosphere was heavy with humidity, saturated with a persistent odor of stagnant water, rust, and despair. Yet, despite everything, these survivors were organizing, refusing to completely surrender to fate.
At the center of their new improvised shelter, a large circular room, probably once used as a retention basin, had been arranged as a command center. On a table improvised from planks and empty crates, maps and plans of Paris were spread out, marked with red circles representing enemy positions, draconic patrols, and areas that had beco impassable.
Around the table, several resistants worked silently. Among them was Captain Léa Moreau, once a brilliant tactical analyst for the governnt. Her black hair tied in a ponytail, her eyes ringed with fatigue, she nevertheless remained upright, focused on the group’s survival.
- "Adrien," Léa whispered upon seeing him arrive. "The device is finally operational. We’ve finished installing the crystal."
Adrien nodded, visibly relieved by this news.
- "Show ," he replied simply, following Léa to the back of the room, where a group of resistant technicians was actively working around a strange device. This consisted of a raw tal base, inside which was inserted a translucent mana crystal, emitting a soft, bluish glow.
- "It’s a crystal taken from a Mist Specter," Léa explained in a low voice. "The creature is known for its abilities to manipulate perception and to completely camouflage itself in its environnt."
Adrien carefully observed the glowing crystal, his tactical mind imdiately recognizing the imnse advantage this artifact could provide them.
- "How does it work exactly?" he asked, frowning slightly.
A young technician stepped forward timidly, nervously adjusting his dirty glasses.
- "Once activated, the crystal generates a stable illusion field around our base. For the dragons, it will be as if we simply weren’t there. They won’t be able to detect our mana signatures, our physical presence, or hear the slightest sound."
Adrien nodded, a glimr of hope briefly returning to his tired gaze.
- "Excellent work. Activate it imdiately. We must remain invisible at all costs."
The technician nodded, and after a few quick manipulations, delicately placed his hand on the crystal’s surface. It suddenly shone with a more intense light, before emitting a silent wave that instantly propagated through the entire sewer section.
Adrien imdiately felt a strange sensation, almost a subtle vibration running through his body.
- "It’s activated," the technician murmured with visible satisfaction. "From now on, we are ghosts in the enemy’s eyes."
The veteran slowly closed his eyes, finally feeling a form of fragile relief. But he knew this invisibility would not be eternal, that their survival hung by a thin thread. The reduced number of resistants, the crushing power of the dragons, everything indicated they were living on borrowed ti.
- "We must act quickly," he finally said in a firm voice, regaining the natural authority he possessed. "The enemy now believes itself invulnerable. They’re letting their guard down. We must take advantage of their excessive confidence to strike where they least expect it."
Léa approached slowly, arms crossed over her chest, her voice calm but tinged with deep concern:
- "Adrien, are we really ready to launch an attack? We’re barely a hundred..."
Adrien’s gaze swept over the survivors and his back sagged with discouragent.
- "You’re right, let’s focus on survival first."
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