On a particular night in the Reyhaz Empire, a wave of magic swept across the continent.
It was not gentle.
Wild, ancient, and untamed, the surge tore through ley lines and mana currents alike, rattling cities and mountains in equal measure. From the most powerful dragons to the weakest races beneath the empire's rule, every living being felt it. A pressure settled deep in the chest, heavy and suffocating, followed by a primal instinct to bow or flee.
A shiver ran down every spine.
How strong is this dragon?
Is this the birth of the next emperor?
Such thoughts rippled through the empire as surely as the magic itself. Scholars dropped their quills. Soldiers stiffened at attention.
Even the old dragons, those who had survived emperors and wars, felt unease coil in their hearts.
The future had shifted.
On a mountain overlooking the radiant capital of the Reyhaz Empire, a lone man stood unmoving. His long white hair swayed gently in the night wind, his unfocused eyes reflecting the glow of the city far below.
"The wheels of fate," he murmured, voice barely audible, "have begun to turn."
Twenty years later
Reyhaz Empire - Royal Palace
The training room rang with the sound of metal grinding against stone.
Yuliana stood opposite an enchanted suit of armor nearly twice her mass, its surface etched with glowing runes that pulsed faintly with stored mana.
Embedded along the walls of the room were mana stones, polished, hexagonal crystals that hummed softly, already mending hairline fractures from previous battles. This chamber was built to endure dragon combat.
And it would need to.
Yuliana rolled her shoulders and cracked her knuckles, a wide grin spreading across her face. Her dark skin gleamed faintly with sweat, tightly packed muscle shifting beneath it as she settled into a fighting stance. Thick, tightly coiled curls framed her face, pulled back just enough to keep them out of her burning red eyes.
"Alright," she muttered. "Let's dance."
She lunged.
The enchanted armor responded instantly, its massive double-edged sword sweeping forward in a brutal arc meant to cleave her in half. Yuliana leapt, light and effortless, the blade passing beneath her feet with a howl of displaced air.
Too slow.
The armor adjusted, swinging again—then again—each strike guided by predictive enchantments meant to counter dragon reflexes. Yuliana watched calmly, her eyes tracking angles and momentum. She sprang forward, launching herself off the stone floor just as the blade rose.
In a blur, she landed on the flat of the sword mid-swing.
The metal vibrated beneath her feet. She didn't hesitate.
Yuliana vaulted upward, twisting her body and driving her knee straight into the armor's helmet. The impact rang like a bell. The suit staggered back, momentarily disoriented, and before it could recover she slipped behind it and swept its leg out from under it.
The armor crashed down hard enough to crack the floor.
Mana stones embedded in the walls flared brighter, runes flickering as they began repairing the damage almost instantly, stone knitting itself back together as if the impact had never happened.
The armor shook its helmet once, as if clearing its senses, and rose again with mechanical precision.
"Well," Yuliana said, wiping sweat from her brow, her grin widening, "it wouldn't be fun if you were easy."
She trained for hours after that, pushing herself harder with each bout, until her muscles burned and her breath came heavy.
By the time she finally left the room, the mana stones had restored it to pristine condition.
That was when she ran into him.
Her smile vanished.
"Karik," she said flatly.
Her older brother stood in the corridor, taller than her by a head, his posture relaxed and smug. Pale skin, sharp features, and straight black hair pulled back neatly, every inch the image of a "proper" dragon noble.
"Yuliana," Karik replied with a lazy smirk. "I see you spent your day trying to catch up to me."
She scoffed. "Why would a dragon waste her time chasing an ant?"
Veins bulged along his temple.
"What did you say?" he snarled.
Dark grey scales crept over his forearms, spreading rapidly as draconic strength surged through him. His mana flared instinctively, pressure filling the corridor.
"You can barely harness magic," he spat. "Yet a lowborn like you dares to call herself a dragon. I'll beat it into you, your place in this empire."
Yuliana tilted her head, unimpressed.
Same speech. Same insecurity.
"I don't need magic," she said calmly, red eyes glowing brighter, "to beat the likes of you."
Her grin returned, sharp, feral.
Karik lunged.
His punch was fast and heavy, enhanced by magic and bloodline alike. Yuliana crossed her arms to block, but the force sent her flying across the hall. She crashed into the wall, stone caving inward as the mana stones flared in protest.
The impact knocked the air from her lungs.
She coughed, gasping, dust filling her mouth as the wall began repairing itself around her.
Karik was already there.
He rained blows down on her, left, right, crushing strikes that drove her deeper into the crumbling stone. Each hit was powerful, but predictable.
He still thinks strength comes from mana alone.
Yuliana's frustration burned hotter than the pain. Losing to Karik would bruise her pride, but fear never touched her mind.
He's not a threat. He never was.
Karik finally stepped back, chest heaving, a satisfied smirk on his face.
Yuliana slid free as the wall sealed behind her, rubble falling harmlessly to the floor. She straightened, dusted herself off, and wiped a streak of blood from her lip.
"That," she said casually, "actually kind of hurt."
Her aura shifted.
The air seemed to tighten.
"My turn."
She vanished.
Karik stiffened, instinct screaming at him to guard, but reason overrode it. He scoffed and lowered his arms.
An ant doesn't hurt a dragon.
Yuliana reappeared in front of him.
Her uppercut snapped his head back violently, staggering him. His eyes widened as she followed with a relentless flurry of strikes, each blow precise, efficient, and devastating. No wasted motion. No hesitation.
Karik roared and shoved her away, fury blazing across his face as he finally raised his guard.
Outside the training hall, guards shifted uneasily. Cracks spiderwebbed across the reinforced doors before sealing themselves again, mana stones glowing brighter with each impact.
One of them swallowed hard. "Go. Now."
Messages were sent.
Authority invoked.
Only one man in the empire could stop what was unfolding.
Sir Tirah Grey was on his way.