After eight long days of grueling travel, the Crown Prince and the Dragon's Calvary finally arrived at the foreboding Mount Nytheris. A place whispered about in legends, located on the western edge of the Anarchy Empire and Dracia. The mountain range, with its twenty towering summits, stood as a perfect haven for dragons—a land of raw, untamed beauty.
"This place is… magnificent," Ian murmured to himself, awe creeping into his voice.
Without hesitation, the Crown Prince commanded his soldiers to begin the search for the dragon's lair. Thirty elite knights were dispatched, split into five groups, each with one purpose: to find the dragon.
Hours stretched into the evening, yet no sign of the dragon appeared. The sun began its slow descent, casting an eerie, blood-red hue over the mountain, marking the end of their search for the day. The soldiers, fatigued but content, gathered around the campfire, their voices a low hum as they ate and relaxed. The air was thick with the comfort of peace—too thick, perhaps, for a place so close to
dragon territory. But the soldiers, all Aura Masters, knew they were more than capable of handling any threat. Even if a dragon appeared, they were prepared.
The soldier were all aura master and their leader was 4 star aura master,so there was nothing for them to be cautious of.
It the middle of night,sudden buzz were heard in the bush.The Crown Prince ordered his soldier to check.The soldier walk cautiously,watching his step not wanting to surprise whatever it is in the bush.He move closer and closer and when it's close enough he open the bush and found a small creature with wings.
"Fairies…" Ian whispered, his voice filled with a strange mixture of wonder and foreboding.
Fairies, the ancient allies of dragons, drawn to the vast mana that dragons possessed. Their presence was both a blessing and a curse—a sign that a dragon was near. And that, to Ian, meant the time to strike was now.
They followed the fairies through the dense underbrush, their eyes fixed on the glimmering wings of the creatures as they darted through the trees. Hours passed, and as the first light of dawn began to break, they found it—a young dragon, almost an adult, sleeping in the heart of its lair, nestled among the jagged rocks.
Quiet as shadows, the soldiers surrounded the beast, their weapons ready. But as they approached, the dragon's eyes snapped open, fiery orange pupils glaring at the intruders. The beast let out a deafening roar, its wings flaring as it sought to escape.
"Get the ballista,"
A heavy-chained arrow loaded on the ballista aiming for the dragon's wing.
The soldiers quickly readied the massive war machine, its heavy chains rattling as they loaded a massive, spiked arrow. With a crack, the ballista fired. The arrow soared through the air, embedding itself in the dragon's wing with a thunderous impact. The soldiers pulled the chains taut, trying to prevent the dragon from flying away. But the beast, determined to break free, used every ounce of its strength to wrench itself free, dragging the soldiers
and the ballista with it, their bodies straining under the pressure.
Ian, watching the chaos unfold, remained eerily calm. He knew this would not be enough. Without a word, he seized a spear from one of his knights, his eyes narrowing in concentration. He took a deep breath, raising the spear high.
"Light Art: First Form—Dawnpiercer."
With a single, fluid motion, he hurled the spear into the sky. The sound of the spear breaking the sound barrier echoed across the mountain, it's brilliant light streaking through the air. The spear struck the dragon's wing with such force that the very mountain seemed to tremble. A cataclysmic explosion of energy erupted on impact, limping the dragon.
The soldier started to load up another balista to make sure no more escapes were done before the Crown Prince killed the dragon.
The ballista was readied once more, and soon, the dragon was immobilized, chained and helpless. The beast let out a final, pitiful cry, but there was no mercy in Ian's heart. He walked toward it, his steps echoing in the silence.
The dragons look pale and full of suffering.With mercy of the light,Ian stabbed the dragon and split the dragon body open in order to get the dragon heart.
Dragon heart.A organ that contains the essences of mana.It is said that one dragon's heart can make a normal human become a mage and cure all disease.But none of them matter to Ian,this heart if for his father,even if he is reluctant to give him the heart,he had no other choices as the others knight are watching.
The Crown Prince and his knights ventured deeper into the lair, their footsteps heavy with the promise of discovery. The lair was filled with treasures—gilded artifacts, enchanted relics, and gold beyond measure. Yet, Ian showed no interest in such riches. He walked through the cavern, eyes scanning every inch of the space until he stopped, a smile curling on his lips.
"A young dragon…" he muttered, a strange, almost sinister satisfaction in his voice.
Ian stood over the young dragon, still asleep, its peaceful breaths a fleeting illusion of safety. Without a moment's hesitation, he swung his sword
in a single, brutal arc. The dragon's head fell, its blood splattering the stone floor.
With cold precision, Ian reached into the dragon's chest, tearing its still-beating heart from its carcass. He held it in his hand, feeling its power pulse like a living thing. It was his now, though he loathed the necessity of it.
No words, no hesitation. The dragon's life was ended, its heart claimed for a purpose Ian could not deny.
The soldiers stood at a distance, their eyes trained on him, their expressions a mixture of awe and unease. They watched him closely, too closely. Ian could feel their gaze, cold and calculating, weighing every movement, every breath. He knew what they were—he could sense it in their every action, in the way they lingered at the edge of his sight.
Spies.
They were sent by his father, to observe, to measure, to ensure his obedience. But Ian was no fool. He saw the subtle shifts in their stances, the furtive glances exchanged among them. They weren't just soldiers—they were watching his every
move, waiting for a sign of weakness, eager to report back to the Emperor.
But Ian was no puppet, no mere pawn in a game controlled by his father's invisible hand.
Ian's gaze hardened.He would not be disrespected. Not by them. Not by anyone.
With blood staining his hands and the dragon's heart still clutched tightly in his grip, Ian turned to face his knights.
Light Art: Second Form—Luminous Step.
In the blink of an eye, he was upon them, his sword flashing in a brilliant arc. In one slash all five soldiers that were in front of him were beheaded. The soldiers never stood a chance.Their heads fell from their shoulders, their bodies crumpling to the ground in a heap. The beheadings were swift, almost merciful in their efficiency.
The madness didn't stop there,He intended to uproot all of Emperor's Spy.He walks slowly and carefully watches his soldiers face.
Pulling his hands up,he used his light power.Light Art: Third Form – Light of Judgment.Suddenly, multiple beams of blinding light erupted from the
sky, tearing through the air and incinerating half of his soldiers before they could even react.The air fell deathly silent, as if the world itself held its breath.
No one dares to question his actions.
"Now, let's return," Ian said coldly, his face drenched in blood, his eyes burning with quiet fury.