The capital had begun to glow three days before the coronation.
Banners of crimson and gold lined the upper districts. Nobles from distant kingdoms filled the palace avenues with polished carriages, jeweled escorts, and quiet political calculations. Every powerful name worth remembering was present — rulers from coastal empires, desert warlords, northern clans, merchant sovereigns.
Power recognized power.
And they had come to witness it.
—
Eira and the guild walked through the outer plaza when Lily appeared beside them, almost skipping.
She smiled too brightly.
"Have you heard?" she said casually, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. "Ark tamed a Fire Dragon."
Noctryx didn't look at her. "Rumors spread fast."
"Oh, it's not a rumor." Lily leaned closer, lowering her voice just enough to make it obvious she wanted them to hear. "The King displayed it privately for foreign dignitaries yesterday."
Her eyes flicked toward Eira.
"And Neo… she's been wielding the ancient blade. The dragon-slayer."
Iris's jaw tightened.
"They say," Lily continued lightly, "that when she drew it fully, even the Fire Dragon lowered its head."
A deliberate pause.
"You should see them together," she added. "Ark's aura has matured. It's overwhelming. Even senior knights step aside."
She tilted her head at Eira.
"I'm not sure you'd stand much of a chance anymore."
The words were sweet.
The intent was not.
Noctryx's shadow shifted faintly at his feet.
Eira's expression didn't change.
"Thank you for the tip," he said calmly.
Lily's smile faltered slightly — not the reaction she wanted.
She stepped back. "Just making sure you're… informed."
As she passed by them, her voice dropped softer.
"Some battles aren't meant to be fought."
She walked away.
The Snow Dragon, who had been walking in a reduced form beside them, let out a quiet rumble.
Noctryx muttered, "She talks too much."
"She talks on purpose," Iris replied coldly.
—
The night before coronation was never peaceful.
It was ceremonial — but brutal.
The Grand Hall glittered with chandeliers and polished marble. Long banquet tables stretched beneath vaulted ceilings painted with victories of past kings.
Royal custom dictated one final trial.
Any royal sibling could issue a formal challenge to the crowned heir.
The rule was simple.
The challenger must fight the heir alongside a chosen aid.
If the challenger lost — execution.
If the challenger won — the throne shifted.
No lingering rivals. No civil wars.
Power decided immediately.
Tonight, Ark stood at the center platform in ceremonial black armor.
Neo stood to his right, the dragon-slayer blade resting at her side.
When she unsheathed it slightly for display, the runes glowed — sharp and violent. Even distant dragons in contracted forms shifted uneasily.
Ark's aura followed.
Heat.
Pressure.
Dominance.
The Fire Dragon manifested partially behind him, its massive burning wings folding like a throne of flame.
The nobles fell silent.
No one stepped forward.
Whispers spread through the hall.
"No one would dare."
"It's suicide."
"The heir is already beyond challenge."
The King sat high above, observing.
Satisfied.
He did not consider Vesa a threat.
Vesa had stepped away from royal claim years ago. His power had seemed restrained, incomplete.
Harmless.
And Eira? Not royal blood.
Irrelevant to succession.
The King's gaze shifted when he saw movement near the lower steps.
Iris stepped forward first.
Her voice carried clearly.
"I, Iris Valen, issue a formal challenge."
The hall erupted in murmurs.
Ark's brows lifted slightly.
Neo's eyes sharpened.
The King leaned forward.
"You are not royal blood," he said evenly.
"I stand as aid," Iris replied. "The challenger stands with me."
Vesa stepped into the light.
The hall quieted again — but this time with amusement.
Some nobles laughed softly.
"Him?"
"He relinquished claim."
"He lacks a dragon."
Ark tilted his head.
"You?" he said, almost curious.
Neo studied him carefully.
Vesa bowed slightly — not submissively, but formally.
"I challenge for the right of coronation."
A ripple of disbelief spread.
The King's expression did not change.
"Do you understand the consequence?" he asked calmly.
"I do."
"If you fall," the King said, "you will not leave this hall."
"I know."
Iris stepped beside Vesa.
Her voice lowered just enough for Ark and Neo to hear.
"This is for the cathedral."
Ark's smile thinned.
Neo's grip tightened on the sword — just slightly.
The Fire Dragon's eyes flared.
Nobles whispered rapidly.
"Madness."
"They will die."
"They can't possibly match that blade."
Ark rested a hand casually near his weapon.
"You truly believe you can stand against us?" he asked.
Vesa looked up.
For the first time, he released it fully.
Sovereign mana flooded the hall.
Not wild.
Not explosive.
Commanding.
The chandeliers trembled.
The marble floor cracked faintly beneath invisible pressure.
The laughter stopped.
Ark's expression shifted — just barely.
Neo's eyes widened a fraction.
The King's fingers tightened on his throne armrest.
Vesa's voice was calm.
"You've mistaken silence for weakness."
Beside him, Iris's aura rose — sharp, controlled, fueled by humiliation and fury.
Across the platform, Ark's flames surged higher.
Neo drew the dragon-slayer fully.
The runes screamed.
Foreign rulers leaned forward.
No one was laughing now.
The coronation dinner had become a battlefield.
And for the first time —
Ark was no longer the only one radiating power.