Then I started preparing the teleportation spell to Solara.
As I began weaving the runes beneath our feet, golden light shimmering, I glanced back at Veldora. He was still in his storm dragon form—massive, wings half-spread, crackling with lingering lightning.
I stared. He stared back. The winds howled around us in awkward silence.
"…Yeah, that's not going to work," I muttered, rubbing my temple.
"What?" Veldora tilted his enormous head, clearly confused.
I jabbed a thumb toward our destination. "We're heading back to Solara, little brother. You do realize it's a kingdom full of high humans, right? You walking in like that is not going to work."
He blinked, then looked down at his colossal form. "…Oh."
"Yeah. Oh..." I deadpanned. "Try using Universal Shapeshift. Imagine a form like mine—regular-sized, tall, intimidating… stylish. Family resemblance, you know?"
He puffed out his chest, producing a small storm cloud in the process.
"Hmph! Fine! Watch this!"
He closed his eyes, and magicules surged around him like a storm collapsing into a point.
With a flash of bluish-purple light, the massive storm dragon vanished—and in his place stood a young man, late teens or early twenties. Wild, spiky blonde hair framed golden eyes faintly sparkling with magic. A grin stretched too wide for anyone sane. He wore a dark coat etched with storm patterns that crackled faintly, exuding confidence.
He looked at his hands, beaming. "HAHA! Look at me! I look awesome!"
I sighed in relief. "Much better. Now you won't accidentally level half the kingdom by sneezing."
Ramiris, hovering beside me, floated down and eyed Veldora. "Wow. He's way too energetic in a smaller body…"
"Uh huh..." I said, shaking my head. "Alright, let's go."
With everyone ready, I activated the teleportation circle beneath us. In a flash of radiant light, we vanished—heading home, toward Solara.
When the golden light faded, we appeared at Solara's grand gates, towering walls bathed in afternoon sun. I didn't bother hiding our presence. The aura I radiated alone could alert every capable individual within kilometers.
No sooner had we landed than three familiar figures materialized in a flicker of teleportation magic—Zalario, Karlos, and Reinhart.
Karlos beamed like a loyal butler seeing his master and dropped to one knee without hesitation. "Welcome back, Lord Velsun! Lady Ramiris!" His grin was infectious.
Reinhart offered a crisp bow beside him, composed but with a hint of relief in his eyes. "Welcome home, my lord. Lady Ramiris."
Zalario, arms crossed, remained as stoic as ever, dark eyes locking onto the newcomer beside me.
All three turned to Veldora, standing proudly. Tanned skin, wild blond hair, faint draconic markings along his cheeks, and that unhinged grin. His aura pulsed like a storm—volatile, unrefined, yet undeniably dangerous.
Zalario and Karlos stiffened, recognizing danger instinctively. Hands hovered near weapons, but they didn't draw them. Reinhart, ever the analyst, studied him silently.
"That pressure… not as refined as Lord Velsun's or Lady Ramiris's, but dense…. Just what is he…?" Reinhart murmured.
Zalario finally asked, voice calm and composed: "Velsun. Who is he?"
I placed a hand on Veldora's shoulder as he puffed up with pride. "Oh, him? He's my younger brother. The youngest of the true dragons, just born." I added casually, "Elder brother left him in my care."
Veldora stepped forward, spreading his arms as if on stage. "AHAHAHAHA! Nice to meet you all! I'm the mighty Storm Dragon, Veldora! Try not to be too impressed!"
Karlos blinked, struggling to keep up. Zalario deadpanned, already predicting future headaches. Reinhart's gaze remained analytical, unreadable.
Ramiris Reinhart was unsure what to say. "Uh..."
I shrugged. "Uh huh."
Far from the radiant skies of Solara and the storm-laden peaks of Veldora's birthplace, a dark throne room stretched into the void. Black stone infused with runes pulsed with cursed magic and ancient technology. Metallic veins lined the floor, glowing faintly crimson, channeling energy through a forgotten High Human network.
At the center sat a man—a king. Jahil, first of the High Humans, created and abandoned by Twilight Valentine.
Regal, yet eerie, clad in obsidian robes streaked with threads of starlight, his sharp features spoke not of age but precision. Skin pale as moonlight, eyes molten gold, always watching. light hair in a ponytail that flowed behind him.
There was no warmth. No soul. Only ambition honed into a weapon.
Around him, massive arcane engines hummed. Floating tomes and spellcodes hovered. Crystal screens displayed long-forgotten languages.
Finally, Jahil spoke—calm, precise, and full of intent.
"Tch… all this time… All these races stagnate, freeloaders in a world they don't understand."
He rose, walking toward a complex ritual circle on the black stone floor. Thousands of failures and centuries of isolation had led to this moment.
"I am the rightful ruler of this world. Twilight made a mistake abandoning me for… what? My thirst for knowledge? No more."
He extended his hand. In a flash of crimson light, blood-red magicules surged. The room chilled. The arcane circuit flared with horrifying brilliance.
A grin crept onto his face—cold, confident, unyielding.
"Come, daemon of the deepest abyss. Primordial Red—respond to my call."
Reality trembled. The summoning had begun. And the world remained oblivious to what Jahil, Twilight Valentine's forsaken son, had unleashed.
-----------------------
A/N: If you can, please support me on Patreon.
Link: www.Patreon.com/Gottle
(No spaces btw)
Can read up to 40 chapters ahead.