The winds screamed above the peaks of Ashen.
The heavens themselves seemed to shudder, as if dreading what was about to awaken.
Deep beneath the royal palace, the King of Dragons stood still, his golden eyes fixed on the horizon beyond stone and distance.
An ancient tremor ran through the world — familiar, terrifying.
He had felt this presence before, countless centuries ago, before even the dawn of the Draconic Age.
> "No… it can't be," he murmured.
"That power was sealed long before my reign."
Across the marble floor, Ryo lifted his head. He didn't understand, but the weight in the air was enough to make his body tremble.
The light of the hall dimmed, swallowed by a distant pulse of black and gold energy.
The King clenched his fist.
Without a word, he turned toward the great gates of the throne room.
The ancient sigils etched across his scales flared to life, one after another, until his form shimmered between man and dragon.
> "Stay here, Ryo," the King said, his voice low but filled with unshakable resolve.
"Something old is awakening… something even I once feared."
Ryo tried to speak, but no sound came out. The King's aura pressed against him like a storm, leaving no room for defiance.
And then—he was gone, vanishing into the night in a flash of blinding light.
Far below the mountains, Draegon's wings unfurled, scattering magma and ancient dust.
The god-dragon's laughter echoed through the veins of the world.
> "Ah… the little heir still lives," Draegon hissed, his voice both thunder and poison.
"Come then, King of Ashen. Come and prove you are worthy of your crown."
The two powers met in the sky above the ruins of the old world.
The collision of their auras tore through the clouds, splitting night and day apart.
Light clashed against shadow, gold against obsidian. The ground shook with every blow, and the world seemed to bleed under their wrath.
From the palace, Ryo watched in silence.
He could feel them — both of them.
The King's light, fierce and radiant.
Draegon's darkness, endless and consuming.
Their battle was so vast that even the heavens seemed too small to contain it.
And yet… Ryo could not tell who would survive.
He stood there for hours, eyes fixed on the horizon, until the world grew quiet again — too quiet.
But no answer came.
Only the wind, whispering across the empty halls of the palace.