Chapter 21: The Dragon of Region 32
"When do we make our move for the throne brother...?" Princess Jerusha asked.
"Jerusha, we do need a lot of guts, but what we need more, is patience and a cold, calculative approach, we can't be too rash.." Prince Jaden responded.
Suddenly there was a sound.
A soft knock fractured the silence in the candle-lit chamber.
Prince Jaden, mid-sentence, froze. His sharp gaze shifted to the door—crafted from black cedar and reinforced with phoenix-iron. His voice, calm yet laced with quiet authority, broke the stillness.
"Who dares interrupt?"
A muffled voice filtered through the wood.
"My prince... re...reconnaissance news my lord."
At once, a flicker of thrill danced in Jaden's dark eyes. Information—his most treasured weapon. While other nobles boasted of brute strength or lavish armies, Jaden ruled from the shadows. His network of spies—shadow dancers, pleasure agents, disguised concubines, lowborn informants—wove a web so intricate, few dared challenge him. Knowledge was his crown. Secrets, his sword.
"Enter." His voice remained smooth, but inside, his heart quickened. The taste of secrets hovered at the edge of his tongue.
The chamber door creaked... but no one stepped in, it seemed...
A second later, a figure emerged—as if drawn from the darkness itself. Clad head-to-toe in pitch black, the spy moved like a phantom, only the soft shift of air betraying his entrance. He bowed low, nearly invisible against the shadows.
Princess Jerusha's silver eyes sparkled with impatience.
"This better be good. Spill it already, shadow crawler," she snapped, folding her arms. "What news dares interrupt our council?"
The spy straightened, his voice low and urgent.
"Amiel Racta. Personal guard of First Prince Balek. He led an assault on Region 32. With him, Four hundred men marched under his command. He razed the City of Gloves to ash."
Jaden's brows lifted slightly. That city had been a stronghold—In that desolate wasteland of region 32, it had some measure of rich, resourcefulness, and was always fiercely neutral. Its destruction was no small feat.
The spy continued, each word more gripping than the last.
"We assumed, naturally, the region would fall easily. Amiel Racta is a Level 6 Ocean-Opening cultivator. His second-in-command, Uzziah Bilu—Level 5—was at his side. Victory should've been a formality."
He paused.
That pause cut through the room like a blade. Jerusha leaned forward. Jaden sat upright, lips parted, anticipation mounting.
"But...?" Jaden's voice was now a whisper—sharp, cold, curious.
The spy's eyes glinted.
"But they met resistance. Not just resistance. A monster. A man. A being. No one knows what exactly. They call it…"
He paused again, then delivered the final word like thunder rolling off the edge of the world.
"…the Dragon of Region 32."
The silence that followed wasn't empty—it was thick with awe and dread. Jerusha's eyes widened. Jaden leaned back, a slow smile creeping onto his face.
"Now this," he murmured, "is interesting."
The spy's words hung heavy in the air, pulling Prince Jaden and Princess Jerusha to the very edge of their seats, their eyes sharpened like blades drawn for battle.
"There was a rise... a sudden surge," the spy continued, voice low like a tremor before an earthquake. "They call him The Dragon of Region 32—a dark horse no one saw coming. He wears a black mask, his presence cloaked in mystery. But the reports agree on one thing… he stands at the 7th level of the Ocean Opening Realm."
Jerusha's lips parted slightly. Jaden's brows arched.
"He rallied the fragmented defenders of Region 32—soldiers, peasants, guards, deserters—like embers drawn to a flame. He didn't just resist. He pushed them back. He broke Amiel Racta's charge and forced him to retreat."
The spy's voice dropped a shade lower, dramatic, reverent.
"My lord... Amiel Racta was forced to the point where he had no choice but to use an Earth-Grade, Low-Level Teleportation Talisman... just to survive."
Prince Jaden inhaled sharply, genuine surprise breaking through his usual mask of composure.
"An Earth-Grade talisman?" he echoed. "That's no trivial trinket... He must've been crushed—cornered."
In their world, tools, weapons, and magical items were ranked in six ascending tiers: Bronze, Silver, Human, Earth, Gold, and Spirit. Each tier divided into Low, Middle, and High. An Earth-Grade talisman, even at its lowest level, was a treasure. A lifeline used only when death hovered too close to ignore.
The spy nodded solemnly. "He barely escaped. And now… there are whispers. Lord Balek may act himself."
The moment hung between them like a blade suspended mid-swing. Jaden raised a hand slowly, signaling dismissal.
"You've done well," he murmured, eyes fixed beyond the physical. "Keep watching. Stay invisible. Bring me word before the wind carries it to others."
"Yes, my lord."
With no more than a shadow's flicker, the spy vanished—as though the air itself had folded him out of existence. The shadow technique of Prince Jaden's men was not just a skill—it was art.
Princess Jerusha spoke next, her voice softer but no less intense.
"Brother… this news—it's not what I expected. The masked man who saved me… he was strong, yes, but only at the 5th level of Ocean Opening Realm. This new dragon… he's two levels higher."
Her brows furrowed, mind unraveling the possibilities.
"It could be the same man. Perhaps he was hiding his power. Or… he's advancing at a terrifying pace. Either way, he's not ordinary." She paused, looking into Jaden's eyes. "Do you think Balek will try to kill him?"
Jaden didn't answer immediately. His fingers danced across the lacquered wooden board before him—an intricate map of the empire, carved with the names of regions, cities, and heirs. He moved a dark piece—a carved lion—away from Region 32, then slid a smaller dragon-shaped token into its place.
"Balek is many things," he said at last, "but he wouldn't soil his hands just yet. He still has his eyes on Region 2. If he overcommits to Region 32, he'll stretch himself too thin. And in the Game of Heirs, the moment you look too powerful…"
Jerusha nodded. "You become everyone's target."
"Exactly." Jaden's eyes narrowed, locking onto the dragon piece. "But it's not Balek I'm wary of now. It's this new force. This… masked dragon. Who is he? A hidden noble? A genius from exile? Or something far darker?"
He rose slowly and turned to the window, staring into the twilight horizon as clouds rolled over the empire like the breath of coming war.
---
While the prince and princess whispered strategies within the high walls of obsidian and gold, word of Prince Josh Aratat—the Dragon of Region 32—was spreading like wildfire through the continent.
In village taverns and palace halls alike, his name ignited awe and speculation.
Some said he descended from the skies, others claimed he wielded fire itself. But all agreed—he had done the impossible.
The regional lord of Region 32 had quietly stepped aside. The masked dragon now called the shots. His presence alone had turned the tide of a doomed war. Without him, the entire region would have burned—not just the City of Gloves, but every stone and soul within.
But with his rise… came a reckoning.
The game had changed. And somewhere across the empire, heirs began to stir—wondering if they had just gained an unexpected ally… or a deadly new rival.