Eula Lawrence dashed through the stone corridors of her family's estate, her boots clicking against the weathered flagstones, the Duel Disk strapped to her arm glinting faintly in the torchlight.
Her heart pounded—not from exertion, but from a thrill she hadn't felt since her first victorious sparring match as a Knight. In her hand, she clutched a deck of cards, their edges worn from her earlier rifling, each one a promise of something extraordinary.
She'd summoned a Blue-Eyes White Dragon before, awed Mondstadt with its majesty, but now she bore three—three—and the tantalizing prospect of fusing them into something greater drove her forward like a gale at her back.
Outside, the late afternoon sun dipped toward the horizon, casting golden streaks across the Lawrence estate's courtyard—a sprawling square of cracked marble framed by ivy-choked pillars, a faded echo of the family's lost grandeur.
Eula skidded to a halt near its center, her breath misting in the crisp air as she raised the Duel Disk, its sleek blue-and-white surface catching the light like a polished blade.
She'd always found solace here, practicing her Cryo-infused swordplay under the watchful eyes of ancestors immortalized in stone busts along the walls.
Today, though, those stern faces would witness a different kind of mastery.
"Such haste—hardly befitting a noble's poise!" a gruff voice barked, cutting through her focus like a dull axe through timber.
Schubert Lawrence, her uncle, emerged from the shadowed archway behind her, his mustache bristling above a scowl that could curdle milk.
Clad in a velvet doublet adorned with the family crest—a silver hawk clutching a spear—he carried himself with the stiff dignity of a man clinging to a throne long toppled.
The Lawrence clan's decline gnawed at him, a wound he nursed with rigid etiquette and bitter pride, and Eula's carefree sprint offended every fiber of his being.
He strode closer, his cane tapping the ground in rhythm with his disapproval. "I should've forbidden her from joining those blasted Knights—traitors to our blood, every one of them!" Schubert's voice dripped with regret, his eyes narrowing as he recalled the family's history.
A thousand years ago, Vanessa and her rebels had shattered their rule, and the Knights of Favonius had kept them down ever since, thwarting every whispered dream of reclaiming aristocratic glory.
To him, Eula's enlistment was a betrayal, a stain on their honor—though the clan head had overruled his protests, leaving him powerless to stop her.
Eula barely spared him a glance, her focus locked on the Duel Disk as she slotted three Blue-Eyes White Dragon cards into place, her fingers trembling with anticipation.
"Stay back, Uncle—this isn't your stage," she said, her tone cool but firm, a knight's command wrapped in familial courtesy.
She didn't dislike Schubert, not truly—his grumbling was as much a fixture of her life as the estate's creaking beams—but she had no time for his lectures now.
The air hummed with potential, a faint static prickling her skin as the device whirred to life.
Schubert halted mid-step, his cane hovering above the stone, his frown deepening into a mask of confusion. "What in Barbatos' name is she up to?" he muttered, squinting as Eula raised the disk skyward, her expression shifting from calm resolve to something almost reverent.
He'd seen her train here countless times, her claymore flashing with frost, but this was no swordplay. The cards in her hand—strange, colorful things—gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, and his noble instincts bristled at their unfamiliarity.
"Blue-Eyes White Dragon—rise!" Eula called, her voice cutting through the courtyard like a blade through silk, and a searing flash erupted from the Duel Disk, bathing the space in blinding white. A thunderous roar split the air, a sound so primal it rattled the pillars, and a massive silver-white dragon burst into existence above her.
Its scales shimmered like polished steel, its wings unfurled with a gust that whipped her hair into a frenzy, and its icy blue eyes glared down with a regal disdain that made the world feel small. The beast hovered, its presence a living storm, casting a shadow that swallowed half the courtyard.
Schubert staggered back, his cane clattering to the ground as his jaw dropped, words failing him in the face of this impossible sight.
"A dragon—here?!" he croaked, his voice a ragged whisper as he clutched his chest, the oppressive weight of the creature's aura pressing down on him like a physical blow.
He'd heard tales of Stormterror, the tempest that plagued Mondstadt's skies, but this was no myth—this was real, tangible, and towering over his family's ancestral home.
Before he could process it, Eula's voice rang out again, sharp and unwavering. "Second Blue-Eyes White Dragon—join your kin!" Another flash, another roar, and a twin to the first dragon materialized, its wings slicing the air as it took position beside its sibling.
The courtyard trembled, dust rising from the cracks as the dual presence doubled the pressure, a symphony of growls echoing off the stone walls.
Schubert's knees buckled, his noble pride forgotten as he braced against a pillar, his mind reeling at the sight of not one, but two colossal beasts summoned by his niece.
"And the third—Blue-Eyes White Dragon, complete the triad!" Eula shouted, her Cryo Vision glinting at her hip as if resonating with her fervor, and a third dragon erupted into being, its arrival heralded by a blast of wind that tore leaves from the ivy.
The trio coiled in the sky, their silver scales catching the fading sun like a constellation of stars, their combined might a force that dwarfed anything Schubert had ever witnessed.
He sank to the ground, trembling, his mustache quivering as he stared up at the trio, their oppressive aura pinning him like a moth under glass.
"Three dragons—three!" Schubert rasped, his voice a mix of terror and disbelief as he struggled to make sense of the scene.
"Where did she get such power? There's no record of dragons in Mondstadt beyond Stormterror!" His mind churned, grasping for answers—had she stumbled upon some ancient relic, a gift from the wilds? But as he watched Eula, her stance unwavering, a wild theory took root, blooming into a revelation that rewrote his scorn into awe.
"Could it be… the Knights?" he whispered, his eyes widening as a narrative spun itself in his head, fueled by years of resentment and noble delusion.
Perhaps Eula hadn't betrayed the Lawrence name after all—perhaps she'd infiltrated the Knights as a double agent, enduring their scorn to uncover their deepest secrets.
Maybe they'd hidden a draconic legacy, tied to Stormterror's days as a Guardian of the Four Winds, and she'd earned their trust, claiming this trio as her prize.
Now, she stood ready to wield it for the family's resurgence—a masterstroke of cunning he'd misjudged as defection.
Eula caught his gaze mid-thought, her brow furrowing at the strange glint of approval in his eyes—a stark shift from his usual disdain that left her faintly unsettled.
"What's with him?" she muttered, shaking her head—if she knew he'd cast her as a covert hero in some noble fantasy, she'd have laughed outright.
These weren't relics of Mondstadt lore; they were cards from Harlan Flint's shop, a game turned spectacle, not a grand conspiracy.
But her focus snapped back to the sky, her pulse quickening as she drew the Fusion card from her deck, its edges warm against her fingertips.
"Let's see if this works—Fusion, activate!" she declared, slotting it into the Duel Disk with a steady hand, her voice steady despite the chuunibyou flair she rarely indulged.
The air crackled, a low hum building as the three Blue-Eyes White Dragons shimmered, their forms fracturing like glass under an unseen force.
Fissures of light split their scales, golden veins pulsing within, and Schubert's gasp was drowned by a deafening boom—an explosion that painted the sky in a radiant haze, the estate trembling as if struck by a meteor.
From the golden chaos, a monstrous shadow loomed, its silhouette sharpening as the light receded, revealing a titanic beast unlike anything Teyvat had birthed.
The Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon emerged—three snarling heads atop a single, massive frame, its silver-white body a fortress of scales, its twin wings stretching wide enough to blot out the sun.
Each head roared in unison, a triplicate cry that shook the courtyard's stones loose, sending dust and debris spiraling as the wind howled in protest. Its six eyes—blue as the heart of a glacier—fixed on the world below, a sovereign glare that promised dominion over all it surveyed.
Schubert fell flat, his noble airs shattered as he gaped up at the colossus, its sheer scale dwarfing even his wildest imaginings of Lawrence glory.
"This… this is beyond dragons—it's a god of the skies!" he stammered, his voice lost to the wind as the beast's shadow swallowed him whole.
He clung to his theory—Eula, the undercover prodigy, wielding a power to reclaim their legacy—but a flicker of doubt crept in.
Could the Knights truly harbor such a secret, or had she tapped into something else, something beyond Mondstadt's ken?
Eula stood firm, her Cryo Vision pulsing faintly as if jealous of the spectacle, her eyes alight with a mix of pride and exhilaration.
"Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon—perfect," she breathed, marveling at the fusion's grandeur, its three heads weaving in a deadly dance above her.
She'd expected power, but this was a revelation—a testament to Harlan's comics, a bridge between game and reality that defied her disciplined world.
For once, her sword felt small, a mere tool against this towering creation born of ink and will.
The estate's servants peeked from windows, their gasps mingling with the wind as the dragon's roars reverberated across Mondstadt, drawing eyes from the city below. Somewhere in the plaza, Wendy paused mid-tune, his lyre stilling as he squinted at the sky, a grin tugging at his lips.
"Well, well—Harlan's shop's stirring up storms again," he chuckled, strumming a note that carried on the breeze. Back at Galehaven Comics, Harlan glanced out his window, sensing the distant rumble, and smirked—Eula's flair was spreading his legend further than he'd dared hope.
Schubert crawled to his knees, his mind a battlefield of awe and suspicion, his gaze darting between Eula and her creation.
"If this is your gambit, niece, then I've underestimated you—truly, the Lawrence blood runs strong," he rasped, half to himself, clinging to his tale of espionage even as its edges frayed.
Eula, oblivious to his inner saga, lowered the Duel Disk, the Ultimate Dragon fading into a shimmer of light as she caught her breath, her world expanded by a game that felt more real than ever.
***
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