Chapter 4: The Final Stage of the First Dragon
The scene was one of dark, sterile power.
**Marcellus**, the First Dragon, sat alone at the head of a massive, polished table. He was conquering galaxy after galaxy, bringing them all under the black banner of the Drakain Empire. The entire universe was now within his grasp, not through negotiation or subtle maneuvering, but through sheer, overwhelming force.
The room he occupied was a command deck suspended in the void, its glass walls offering an unobstructed, terrifying view of a conquered galactic core. Seated around the table, listening with rapt attention, were twenty Drakain hybrids. These were not his original children, but **clones** of the four children he had engineered with Diana millions of years prior.
Marcellus had never truly loved any of his hybrid offspring. While he held a twisted, possessive attachment to the originals—Serafina, Damien, and Valerian—his ability to express or even feel true affection had been snuffed out. Every word of hate his mother had filled his ears with in the first years of his life, **sixty-five million years ago**, still burned inside him as if it were gasoline on fire, leaving him cold, calculating, and ruthless.
He stared forward, the horrific memory of his early torment momentarily eclipsing the galaxies outside.
"We have every magical galaxy under our control," he stated, his voice a low, commanding rumble that needed no amplification. "Also, we have controlled the heart of the universe: the great planet of **Pandora**."
A proud look lit the eyes of every hybrid in the room. They all shared clones' memories of the "Dragon Dance"—the day, a few thousand years prior, when Marcellus finally returned to seize full, undisputed control of the home world.
Marcellus had decided long ago to keep the secret of the **Titan Form**—the ultimate, true dragon transformation—to himself. There was no need for the Drakain on Pandora to have this information. Given that most hybrids had no way to survive beyond a maximum of one million years, Marcellus, in his evil, pragmatic mind, saw no reason to waste potential. He would simply clone his hybrid offspring when they aged and grew weaker, maintaining a loyal, stable workforce.
He rose from his chair, a figure of dark majesty.
"Now that we control the entire universe under our empire, we shall commence the final stage of our journey," Marcellus announced. "We will separate ourselves from everyone else by using my dark energy source to build a bridge."
He paused, a sinister smile touching his lips. "This bridge won't be a bridge for anyone to use. It will be a **wall**, separating half of the universe from the other half. My goal is to **siphon the universe's mana** to one side, so that our galaxies can flourish. Everything on the other side of the universe will become **magicless galaxies**, useless to beings like us. The concentrated mana will be for everyone in our empire."
The entire room of hybrids broke out into a victorious roar of celebration.