The royal hall buzzed with the energy of celebration. Laughter and music echoed through the vast chamber as nobles and emissaries from distant lands mingled under the opulent chandeliers. Seated on his throne, King Amitrochates raised his hand, silencing the revelry.
“Let the gift ceremony begin.
Emperor Zadrizes, accompanied by Empress Daria and their son, Gearax. Zadrizes strode confidently to the center, two ornate boxes suddenly materializing in his hands, seemingly summoned from the ether. Gasps filled the hall as he opened the boxes, revealing two rings that radiated a mystical glow.
“These,” Zadrizes began, his deep voice cutting through the silence, “are the relics of a legendary dragon couple who ascended to the heavens five centuries ago. Their knowledge, their skills, their very essence—all sealed within these rings. For five hundred years, no dragonkin has been deemed worthy. Today, I offer these artifacts to Prince Ashora and Ikshita, in the hope that destiny might choose them.”
A collective hush fell over the room as the significance of the gift sank in. The other kingdoms exchanged uneasy glances, their envy palpable yet unspoken. Daria handed the boxes to Gearax and said softly, “Go, give the rings to the children.”
Gearax approached the cradle holding Ikshita. Gently, he slipped the female ring onto her tiny finger, the artifact glowing faintly as it settled. Turning to Prince Ashora, he offered the second ring. But the baby, with a bright smile, grasped Gearax’s hand instead.
For a moment, the icy demeanor that earned Gearax the title “Cold-Blooded Dragon Child” softened. With a small smile, he reached out and patted Ashora’s head. “Hey, kid,” he said, his voice laced with rare warmth. “Become my friend.”
Ashora giggled, clutching Gearax’s hand with his tiny fingers. Daria watched the scene with a swelling heart, touched by her son’s uncharacteristic display of affection.
Other kingdoms began to present their gifts, but none could compare to Zadrizes's offering.
As Gearax returned to his mother’s side, the ceremony continued. The Elf Envoy stepped forward, their face obscured beneath a hood. With a graceful gesture, they revealed a magnificent sword forged from 10,000-year-old cold steel and presented it to Prince Ashora. The hall erupted in astonished whispers. Some kings were shocked to learn that such steel is extremely rare; even finding just 10 grams could fetch a fortune.
The envoy then unveiled an elegant dress for Ikshita, explaining, “She explained, "This dress is blessed by the ancient world tree, possesses healing properties, and can adjust to the user's body; even if the dress is torn, it can regenerate itself.
When the final gifts were presented, the festivities resumed. Yet beneath the surface, unease lingered among the rulers. The next day Slowly, the kingdoms began to leave the Batili Kingdom; only a few remained - Fishcel Kingdom, Kathi Nation, the Elf Envoy, and Zadrizes.
The Council’s Decision
after saying farewell to all kingdoms, a council convened in a grand chamber. Androcottus, Amitrochates, and Osborne sat at a round table with the King of Fishcel, the Queen of Kathi, the Elf Envoy, and Zadrizes.
the female Elf Envoy named Arwen—who introduced herself as the daughter of the Elf Queen.
Androcottus asked Arwen if the elves had discovered the reason behind the increasingly fierce behavior of the monsters. Arwen replied, "No, we have not found anything."
Queen Kathi’s voice trembled with desperation. “My nation cannot hold out much longer. If we do not act soon, we will fall.”
Zadrizes remained silent, his expression inscrutable. Androcottus leaned forward. “If no one else will act, I will.”
Osborne interjected. “Why you? Let me go.”
“No,” Androcottus replied firmly. “I am a Stage 5 Awakener and a Tier 3 Aura Knight. Fewer than a hundred on this continent can match me. I will handle this.”
A pigeon flew through the open window, landing on Zadrizes’s outstretched hand. He read the letter it carried and frowned. “It seems a wyvern is behind the attacks.”
Although wyverns are not pureblood dragons, they are still considered dragon kin and possess authority over monsters. A wyvern is not a mindless creature; they have intelligence.
The Fishel King asked, "Wyvern? King Zedrizes, what are you saying? Weren't all the wyverns killed by you 200 years ago?"
Zedrizes leaned back in his chair, his sharp white eyes narrowing as he studied the room. His voice, calm yet carrying the weight of centuries, cut through the tense atmosphere. "That is true," he said, the faintest hint of weariness in his tone. "I did kill all the wyverns. However, at that time, one of them had just given birth. I could not bring myself to slay a newborn, So, I left the hatchling to the hands of destiny." He paused, his gaze distant as though reliving that moment. "Perhaps that wyvern is that child, now grown."
Androcottus, ever pragmatic, folded his arms across his chest. "If it’s truly a wyvern, then it’s not a big deal. We can handle it without much trouble." His words, though confident, carried an undertone of readiness. He turned to the Queen of the Kathi Nation, who sat with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "You should focus on pinpointing where this wyvern is hiding. I suspect it’s somewhere near your lands."
The queen straightened, her expression resolute despite the obvious strain on her nation. "As you wish," she said, her voice steady.
Zedrizes stood, his towering figure commanding attention as his dark cloak swirled with his movement. "It seems everything has been resolved here, then. I’ll take my leave." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and strode toward the exit, his footsteps echoing against the polished marble floor.
As the heavy doors closed behind him, Androcottus glanced at Osborne, who had been silently observing the exchange. "Send spies to track the wyvern’s location," Androcottus ordered. A faint smirk played on his lips. "I might just take this opportunity to stretch my old bones a bit."
Osborne, ever loyal, rose to his feet. "Consider it done," he said, before following Zedrizes out of the room, his cape swishing behind him.
With the two men gone, Androcottus turned to his son Amitrochates, who had remained seated, listening intently. "I will be taking my leave as well," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Amitrochates discussed various matters with the kingdoms and elves.
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In a quiet corner of the palace gardens, Daria sat with Tisya, the two women enjoying the rare moment of peace amid the festivities. The air was filled with the laughter of children as Gerax, ever the solemn child, knelt in the grass playing with little Ashora. The baby giggled uncontrollably, his tiny hands reaching out to grasp Gerax’s fingers, as though sensing the warmth hidden beneath the young dragonkin’s cool exterior.
Zedrizes approached, his imposing presence casting a long shadow over the serene scene. His white eyes softened as he took in the sight of his son and the baby prince. Though his expression remained stoic, there was a quiet tenderness in the way his gaze lingered on his family.
"It’s time to leave," Zedrizes said, his voice low and firm,
Daria looked up, her sharp features relaxing into a gentle smile. She rose to her feet, brushing imaginary dust from her gown. "Very well," she replied, her tone calm yet tinged with understanding. She reached out a hand to Gerax, who hesitated for a moment before standing, his movements reluctant.
As they began to walk away, Gerax glanced over his shoulder at Ashora. The baby watched him with wide, curious eyes, his chubby hands reaching out as though beckoning his new friend to stay. Gerax stopped, turning back and kneeling before Ashora one last time.
"Hey, little Bart," he said, his voice softer than usual, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I’ll come back to play with you again."
Ashora responded with a bright, grin, his tiny fingers grasping the air. Gerax patted the baby’s head gently before standing and walking away, his heart unexpectedly lighter.
Zedrizes, watching this exchange, remained silent, though his lips pressed into a thin line as if suppressing a smile. Despite his tough exterior, moments like this revealed the depth of his love for his wife and son—feelings he struggled to express aloud.
As the family departed, the quiet sound of Ashora’s laughter lingered in the air, a reminder of the bond forged that day.
Two months had passed, and the search for the elusive wyvern had borne no fruit. Reports of monstrous attacks grew more dire by the day, each missive dripping with urgency. Queen Kathi's latest letter was no exception. It spoke of desperation, of a kingdom on the brink of collapse, its defenses battered by relentless waves of beasts.
In the council chamber of the Batili Kingdom, Aratha placed the letter on the table, his expression grim as he turned to Androcottus. "It looks like you have to step in yourself," he said, his voice steady despite the tension hanging in the air.
Androcottus leaned back in his chair, his weathered face betraying no emotion. But his sharp eyes burned with determination. He gave a single nod. "Yes," he replied simply.
Rising to his feet, Androcottus stretched out a hand. A distant whistling sound echoed through the chamber, growing louder until a flash of steel pierced the air. His sword flew toward him, landing firmly in his outstretched hand. The blade gleamed with a faint aura, its presence radiating power and purpose.
Without a word, he strode to the nearest window. In one smooth motion, he leaped out of the window, his figure disappearing into the vast expanse of the sky.
Androcottus's eyes remained fixed ahead, his thoughts focused. If the wyvern truly commands these monsters, I will end it before it destroys another kingdom.
The sky grew darker as he neared the Kathi nation's borders, a foreboding sign of the chaos unfolding below. But Androcottus pressed on, unwavering,
Androcottus soared over the borderlands of the Kathi nation, his sharp eyes scanning the forest below. What he saw was a sea of monsters, their grotesque forms moving like a tide of destruction. Goblins shrieked as they charged, ogres roared, and orcs brandished crude weapons. The battlefield stretched endlessly, a grim testament to the unrelenting assault the nation faced.
Farther ahead, Kathi soldiers fought valiantly at the border, their defenses faltering against the overwhelming horde.
He raised his hand, and the very air seemed to shift in response. Countless wind blades materialized around him, their edges shimmering with a deadly precision. With a swift gesture, he infused each blade with fire, the flames licking hungrily at their edges. The sky above the battlefield darkened as the fiery blades hovered, a silent omen of devastation.
Androcottus thrust his arm forward, and the blades descended in a cascade of destruction. Like a storm-given form, thousands of fiery wind blades rained down upon the monsters below. Screams and roars filled the air as the creatures were torn apart, their numbers rapidly thinning. Flames consumed the forest floor, leaving only ash and scorched earth in their wake.
The soldiers at the border halted their fighting, gazing upward in awe and disbelief. The fiery rain had decimated the monstrous horde in moments, turning the tide of the battle in their favor.
As the last of the blades vanished, Androcottus descended, his boots touching the charred ground with a quiet authority. He sheathed his sword, the faint glow of its aura dimming. Around him lay the remnants of the battle—a battlefield turned graveyard, the monsters reduced to lifeless husks.
Androcottus turned to the stunned soldiers, his voice calm but commanding. "I will handle things here. Head to the north gate and assist your comrades."
The soldiers hesitated, their eyes filled with both awe and uncertainty. But the chief among them recognize him and stepped forward, bowing low. "We will do as you say, my lord."
With that, they gathered their wounded and hurried toward the distant gates, leaving Androcottus alone amid the devastation. He closed his eyes briefly, attuning himself to the air around him. The forest beyond the battlefield still teemed with life, more monsters lurking in the shadows.
Let them come, he thought. I’ll finish this here and now.
Androcottus was a Level 5 Awakener who specialized in the wind element. While Awakeners master all known elements sequentially at each stage, they can only control one element more effectively until they reach Stage 6. At Stage 6, they can use all elements with maximum efficiency; however, throughout history, only a little over 100 individuals have attained Stage 6. Apart from Tier 5 Aura Knights, Archmages at the 9th Circle, and dragons, no one can compare to a Stage 6 Awakener. Androcottus had been stuck at Stage 5 for 10 years and had not found a way to advance to Stage 6.
More monsters poured from the dense forest, their grotesque forms illuminated by the smoldering embers left from Androcottus’s earlier attack. The ground trembled under their charge as their guttural roars filled the air, a deafening cacophony of rage and defiance.
Androcottus stood motionless at the heart of the battlefield, He watched intently as the last of the soldiers retreated, ensuring they were beyond harm’s reach. Once the battlefield was empty save for him and the approaching horde, he closed his eyes.
The wind stilled.
A sudden, palpable shift in the air caused the advancing monsters to falter, their instincts screaming warnings they couldn’t comprehend. Behind Androcottus, the very fabric of reality seemed to ripple. From the invisible depths of his power, a towering image began to materialize—a spectral figure, 200 feet tall, with a presence as commanding as a god of war.
The avatar an ethereal giant wielding twin swords that seemed forged from the essence of the storm itself. Its eyes, glowing like embers, surveyed the encroaching horde with cold indifference. The mere sight of it was enough to send ripples of terror through the monsters’ ranks.
Androcottus remained perfectly still, his eyes shut, his focus unwavering. In a single, silent moment
Within a 500-meter radius, every monster froze. Goblins, orcs, ogres—no matter their size or strength—all collapsed where they stood, their bodies crumpling lifelessly to the ground. It was as though the spark of life had been plucked from their cores in an instant. Even the forest itself wasn’t spared; Trees and plants all began to become lifeless.
Beyond the radius of death, the remaining monsters howled in primal terror. They could feel the avatar’s presence, and their instincts demanded only one thing—escape. Some turned and fled back into the forest, their heavy steps crashing through the underbrush. Others, driven by desperation, charged forward, hoping to defy the unseen force. It was futile. As they entered the range of the avatar, their lives were snuffed out as swiftly and silently as the others.
The battlefield, once teeming with chaos, was now eerily still. Only the faint sound of the wind returning to life could be heard. The towering avatar faded away, its duty fulfilled.
Androcottus opened his eyes the avatar faded away, his expression calm but resolute. “For now, everything is settled,” he murmured, his voice carrying a weight of authority that matched the devastation around him
In Stage 5 of awakening, a person begins to comprehend the concept of space and gains the ability to manipulate it. They can create a personal space within a certain range where only their own rules apply. Additionally, they have the power to physically manifest their soul.
For Androcottus, a master of the wind element, his personal space was a silent weapon of devastating efficiency. The air itself became his tool, the unseen force he wielded with unmatched precision. Within a radius of 500 meters, he could halt the movement of wind entirely. The atmosphere within his space would become unnaturally still, a breathless void where even the faintest breeze was extinguished.
The true brilliance—and horror—of his mastery lay in its subtlety. The monsters caught within his domain never saw their end coming. Deprived of air, they gasped silently, their bodies collapsing as life slipped away. There were no roaring flames, no crashing waves, no visible spectacle to warn them. Their deaths were quiet, unnoticed by those outside the sphere of his power.
The monsters’ massive frames crumpled like discarded marionettes, lifeless before they understood what had befallen them. Even the plant life suffered, their leaves wilting, stems drooping, and roots shriveling as the breathless void sapped the vitality from everything within.
Standing at the heart of this lifeless zone, Androcottus was a portrait of calm control. He neither spoke nor moved as his will shaped the invisible forces around him. His eyes, now open, reflected neither pity nor cruelty, only the steady determination of a man who understood the weight of his power.