During Sengoku's travel of return to his home castle, an ominous shape appeared in the skies above. A pitch black dragon circled overhead, its massive wings creating currents of air strong enough to bend the treetops below. The royal carriage continued its steady pace, the driver casting nervous glances skyward while Sengoku remained seemingly unconcerned by the creature's presence.
As they approached the castle gates, the dragon's circling tightened, its interest in the dragonslayer becoming increasingly obvious.
Guards atop the castle walls pointed and shouted warnings, but Sengoku merely stepped from his carriage with deliberate calm, his expression betraying only mild irritation at the unwelcome attention.
Looking directly up at the immense creature, Sengoku's patience finally reached its limit.
"Why are you following us?" he yelled at the sky, his voice carrying the authority of a man accustomed to being answered, even by legendary beasts.
The dragon descended slightly, its massive form blocking out the sun and casting the courtyard into premature twilight. When it spoke, its voice vibrated through the ground beneath their feet.
"Mortal, heed me. I am the Shadow Dragon, the rival of Dark Dragon, but he has been slain and I seek a worthy warrior," the creature declared, smoke curling from between rows of razor-sharp teeth.
Sengoku stood unmoved, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. "What can I do for you then?"
"I heard you were strong, very strong, so I've come to defeat you to claim the title of dragon king," the dragon replied, its wings creating gusts that sent loose debris scattering across the courtyard.
Nickan knew what was coming. According to everything he had read, Sengoku would indeed defeat this dragon, but not immediately. Events would first unfold that would lead to the dragon's eventual demise. The anticipation of witnessing this legendary confrontation firsthand sent a thrill of excitement through him, despite being merely an observer in Sengoku's story.
Sengoku's response was deliberately dismissive. "I've got no interest in weak ones like you."
The Shadow Dragon's eyes flared with indignation, pupils contracting to thin slits within pools of molten gold. It reared back its head and released a deafening roar that shook the castle walls and sent birds fleeing from nearby trees.
"I'm weak, you say, human!? I'll make you regret your word choices," it thundered, scales bristling with barely contained rage.
"Yeah, whatever!" Sengoku replied with a casual wave of his hand, already turning toward the castle entrance.
The Shadow Dragon hovered a moment longer, its massive form trembling with wounded pride. Then, with a final threatening growl, it beat its wings powerfully and soared away into the distance. Though it departed, Nickan sensed this was far from the end of their confrontation.
Upon entering his castle, Sengoku wasted no time in addressing more pressing matters.
"Bring me the general I left in charge of Hanzo castle," he commanded a nearby servant, who bowed deeply before hurrying to fulfill the order.
The general arrived promptly, his armor still bearing the dust of hard travel. Upon being ushered into Sengoku's presence, he immediately dropped to one knee, head bowed in reverence.
"You may rise," Sengoku said, a rare note of approval in his voice.
The general raised his head, his expression eager to deliver his report. "Master Sengoku, the mountain tribes and shadow clans will serve us from now on."
"Thought so!" Sengoku nodded with satisfaction. "Those oddballs don't have a mind of their own. They're mostly barbaric but can serve well."
"Are you pleased then, master?" the general asked, hope evident in his voice.
"Kind of, but you did well," Sengoku replied, then turned toward Lady Akemi who had been standing silently nearby. "Give him a normal dragon arts scroll."
Lady Akemi retrieved an ornate scroll from a locked cabinet, handling it with the respect befitting such a valuable item. She presented it to the general, who accepted it with trembling hands.
"Thank you, Master Sengoku!" the general exclaimed, clutching the scroll as if it were made of pure gold. His gratitude was profound, bordering on reverence.
Nickan understood exactly why the general reacted this way. In this world, wealth held little meaning compared to skill and ability. The true currency of power was knowledge—specifically, dragon arts and magical techniques that could elevate one's standing in society. Receiving a dragon arts scroll was equivalent to being granted nobility in this realm, a gift that could transform the general's life and status forever.
With evident satisfaction, the general departed, still clutching his precious new possession.
Sengoku then summoned his six wives to his presence, a gleam of mischief appearing in his eyes as they approached in their colorful silken robes.
As they gathered around him, Sengoku proceeded to smack each of their backsides playfully, clearly enjoying both the act itself and Lady Akemi's visible discomfort at witnessing such behavior.
"Don't you find it inappropriate to smack your wives in front of me?" Lady Akemi asked, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.
Sengoku grinned wickedly. "Absolutely not! I find it interesting to see the geezer look of jealousy on your face."
Lady Akemi's cheeks flushed with anger. "Do whatever you want, ya shitty brat!" she snapped before storming out of the chamber.
Sengoku merely laughed at her retreat and proceeded with "round two" of backside smacking, much to the mixture of embarrassment and amusement of his wives.
"Husband," one of his wives, Fuzu, asked during a momentary pause in his antics, "it is needed that you have seven wives. Will you bring a new wife to join us?"
Sengoku nodded decisively. "Of course. I'll search for a seventh wife worthy of me."
This pronouncement seemed to please the other wives, who exchanged satisfied glances. Their moment of domestic harmony was abruptly shattered, however, when Hayato, one of Sengoku's most trusted soldiers, came running into the chamber.
"Master, we are under attack!" Hayato shouted, his face flushed from exertion. "The main town of our kingdom is under attack by a pitch black dragon!"
Sengoku's expression darkened immediately, his fists clenching at his sides. "That bastard dragon! How dare that lizard!"
"Do you know that dragon, my lord?" Hayato asked, surprised by Sengoku's immediate recognition.
"I do. It's the Shadow Dragon, the rival of..." Sengoku began, then paused abruptly, seeming to reconsider sharing further information. Trust was clearly something he reserved for very few, and complete trust perhaps for none but himself. "Just old rivalry trauma," he continued vaguely, "but I'm gonna slay that lizard for good!"
Hayato's eyes gleamed with respect and admiration. "My lord, I'll prepare your carriage then," he declared before rushing off to make the necessary arrangements.
Sengoku's mood had visibly soured. He had clearly been looking forward to spending "quality time" with his wives—whom he apparently referred to as "peaches"—but the dragon's attack had forced him to postpone such pleasures. Still, Nickan could see calculations forming behind Sengoku's eyes. This confrontation, while an inconvenience, also presented an opportunity.
The World Council would view his actions as protective, fulfilling his duty, while Sengoku himself would gain the essence of another dragon, adding to his already formidable powers.
A short time later, Hayato returned, slightly out of breath from his haste. "Master, the carriage is ready!"
Sengoku turned to his wives with obvious reluctance. "Wait a bit longer, then I'll eat the peaches," he promised, the crude metaphor bringing blushes to some of their faces.
His wives wished him luck as he departed, their voices a chorus of concern and encouragement. Nickan felt his own excitement building, knowing what was to come. The climax he had read about was about to unfold before him, and the anticipation made his blood rush with exhilaration.
Sengoku's royal carriage sped toward Shangrila City, known throughout the realm as the city of hope, power, prosperity, and freedom. When they arrived, the streets were in chaos. Buildings burned while citizens fled in terror from the enormous black dragon swooping through the sky above the city center.
The moment Sengoku emerged from his carriage, the townspeople's fear transformed into jubilation. Their beloved master had come to save them, and their cheers rose above the sounds of destruction. Sengoku wasted no time with false modesty. Using magic to amplify his voice, he addressed the dragon directly.
"You evil dragon, leave now or I shall slay you!" His voice boomed across the city, causing even the dragon to pause in its rampage.
The Shadow Dragon hovered above a partially collapsed building, its eyes fixing on Sengoku with malevolent intelligence. "Slay me? Come if you can," it taunted before releasing another blast of dark fire that reduced nearby buildings to smithereens.
The dragon's attack was a senseless rampage, destruction for destruction's sake, and Sengoku recognized the danger of continuing the battle in the city center. With swift decision, he activated one of his most impressive abilities—magic flight—and soared upward to meet the dragon in the air.
Once airborne, Sengoku employed another of his dragon arts: teleportation. In an instant, both he and the Shadow Dragon vanished from above Shangrila City, reappearing in the skies over Hanzo castle. It was a strategic choice on Sengoku's part, Nickan realized. By bringing the battle to his newly acquired stronghold, he would demonstrate his power to the recently conquered people, ensuring that thoughts of rebellion would never take root in their minds.
The moment they materialized above Hanzo castle, Sengoku unleashed a dragon art breath attack, releasing a stream of fire that illuminated the evening sky with brilliant orange flames. The Shadow Dragon countered with its own breath weapon—a jet of absolute darkness that seemed to consume light itself.
The two attacks met midair, creating a spectacular collision of elements. Fire and shadow swirled together, creating an obscuring cloud that momentarily concealed both combatants from view. Realizing that this obscured the battle from the onlookers below—and thus defeated his purpose of making this a public demonstration—Sengoku used another dragon art, commanding the air itself to disperse the darkness.
With the skies clear once more, Sengoku changed tactics. He cast a magical net that expanded as it flew, enveloping the Shadow Dragon in a web of glowing energy. Entangled, the dragon could no longer maintain flight and began plummeting toward the ground far below.
Not willing to let his opponent die so easily—or perhaps not wanting to damage Hanzo castle with the impact of a falling dragon—Sengoku cast another air spell that created an invisible platform beneath the dragon, keeping it aloft while restricting its movements.
The Shadow Dragon, however, was far from defeated. With a roar of defiance, it slashed at the magical net with razor-sharp claws, shredding the enchanted restraints and freeing itself to continue the battle.
What followed was an aerial combat of breathtaking intensity. The Shadow Dragon dove at Sengoku, jaws open to reveal rows of teeth capable of crushing stone. Sengoku twisted aside at the last possible moment, drawing his sword in a lightning-fast arc that opened a gash along the dragon's flank. Black blood spattered through the air, but the wound seemed to only enrage the creature further.
It whipped its tail like a massive flail, the spiked tip whistling as it cut through the air. Sengoku caught the blow on his sword, the impact sending him tumbling backward through the sky before he regained control. Undeterred, he countered with a sequence of elemental attacks—bolts of lightning followed by shards of magical ice that homed in on the dragon from multiple directions.
The Shadow Dragon responded with a roar that sent shockwaves through the air, shattering the ice projectiles before they could strike. It followed with its own attack, breathing out a cloud of shadow that spread like ink in water, threatening to engulf Sengoku entirely.
Instead of retreating, Sengoku charged directly into the darkness, his body glowing with protective magic. When he emerged on the other side, his sword trailed tendrils of shadow essence that he had somehow absorbed during his passage.
The battle continued in this fashion—attack, counter, evasion, and counter-attack—with neither combatant gaining a decisive advantage. Throughout it all, Sengoku maintained a higher position in the sky, literally staying above his opponent in a physical manifestation of his philosophy of superiority.
As the conflict stretched on, the Shadow Dragon began to show signs of fatigue. Its movements grew slower, its attacks less coordinated.
Sengoku, meanwhile, seemed to gain energy as the battle progressed, his attacks becoming more precise and devastating.
The end came suddenly. Sengoku feinted with his sword, drawing the dragon's attention, then unleashed a point-blank dragon art that struck the creature directly in its chest. The Shadow Dragon reeled backward, a gaping wound exposing its very essence—the magical core that gave it life and power.
Sensing victory, Sengoku pressed his advantage.
With a series of slashes too fast for ordinary eyes to follow, he systematically disabled the dragon's defenses—severing tendons in its wings, slicing through the muscles of its tail, and finally driving his sword directly into the exposed essence at its core.
The Shadow Dragon's roar of pain transformed into a sound of resignation. As it hung suspended in the air, life rapidly fading from its golden eyes, it fixed its gaze on Sengoku.
"Your name, slayer," it demanded, its voice now barely more than a whisper. "Tell me the name of the one who has bested me."
"Sengoku," he replied simply, withdrawing his blade from the dying creature.
The Shadow Dragon nodded, as if confirming something to itself. "Then I name you Hatsu," it declared, using the last of its strength to bestow this title. "It means 'new beginning.' Remember it, for you have begun something new this day that cannot be undone."
With those final prophetic words, the Shadow Dragon's essence began to flow out of its wound, not dissipating but rather streaming toward Sengoku as if drawn by an irresistible force.He then stood with arms outstretched, absorbing the power directly into his body, his form briefly glowing with dark energy as he incorporated the dragon's abilities into his own.
When it was done, nothing remained of the Shadow Dragon but scattered scales falling like black snow upon the outskirts of Hanzo castle.
Nickan, despite having known the outcome in advance, found himself breathless with excitement. It truly was an epic moment in the story—one thing to read about such a battle, quite another to witness it unfold as if he were truly there.
And then, as suddenly as he had been drawn into this chapter of Sengoku's life, Nickan found himself pulled back to reality as the story ended at that point, leaving him eagerly wondering what would happen next in the dragonslayer Sengoku's journey ahead.