Ainsworth stood on a rocky outcrop, overlooking the vast army assembled before him. The first light of dawn bathed the soldiers in a golden glow, signaling the beginning of a campaign that would not only hunt but also demonstrate Edun's dominance across the land.

His army was a formidable sight. 10,000 Jade Spearmen formed the core, standing in disciplined rows, their green armor gleaming in the morning sun. Each spear was tipped with jade, and the soldiers moved as one, a wall of unyielding force trained to advance without hesitation and break any enemy line.

Beside them, 7,000 Jade Archers waited, their finely crafted jade bows at the ready. Each archer was a master of their craft, being trained from a very young age of ten. Their jade-tipped arrows glinted ominously, promising death to anyone foolish enough to stand in their path.

At the forefront, leading the charge, were the elite Dragon’s Chosen—300 warriors clad in gleaming white armor. These were not ordinary soldiers but the most skilled and revered fighters of Edun. Their swords, forged from the bones of an ancient giant, were as durable as obsidian. The Dragon’s Chosen were a fearsome sight, their white armor shimmering like ice in the dawn light, their eyes cold and focused, ready for whatever battle lay ahead.

Ainsworth stood among them, his armor polished to a mirror sheen, and his self-requested spear, Azure, in hand. It was overkill to request such a force against a mere manticore and a great hassle to recruit, as it was comprised of the Empire's finest men, but Ainsworth had to prove to his father his greatness. He was prepared to be the heir; he should be the heir. He would slay such a beast, show the world Edun's power, and return a hero. That was the plan.

The army began its march toward the Yao Forest. The path to the forest was a journey through the very heart of the Empire, and Ainsworth used this to his advantage. As they passed through villages and towns, he demanded tribute as the heir to Edun. His soldiers collected gold, food, and supplies from the terrified villagers, a demonstration of Edun’s strength and Ainsworth’s authority. The villagers, eyes wide with fear, handed over their offerings, whispering prayers that they would not incur the heir’s wrath.

Ainsworth basked in their reverence and fear. His arrogance grew with every step his army took deeper into the heart of Edun. The Yao Forest loomed ahead, its ancient trees like jagged knives reaching toward the sky, their sharp branches silhouetted against the darkening horizon. The forest was notorious for its dangerous landscape—trees with bark like rough stone, their branches sharp enough to slice through flesh with a mere touch. The ground was a tangle of gnarled roots and thorns, each step a careful negotiation to avoid injury.

As they entered the forest, Ainsworth remained cocky. The Jade Spearmen advanced in disciplined ranks, cutting down the dense foliage with their jade-tipped spears. The Jade Archers moved silently, their eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. The Dragon’s Chosen led the way, their white armor gleaming like beacons in the dark forest.

The forest was thick with the sounds of hidden creatures and the whisper of the wind through the razor-sharp leaves. Ainsworth, confident in his numbers and strength, ordered his army to press forward. They encountered a few minor serpents—long, slithering creatures with venomous fangs. The Jade Spearmen dispatched them with ease, their spears skewering the serpents with quick, practiced jabs. Ainsworth smirked at the sight. If this was all the Yao Forest had to offer, then his triumph was assured.

But then, up ahead, they saw it—a dark, yawning cave, half-hidden by twisted roots and overhanging branches. This was where the manticore was supposed to reside, the beast he had come to slay. Ainsworth felt a surge of excitement and confidence. He would lead his men into the cave, kill the manticore, and prove to everyone, especially his father, that he was the true heir to Edun.

"Form up!" Ainsworth commanded, his voice echoing through the trees. "Prepare to enter the cave. The beast lies within."

The soldiers formed tight ranks, the Jade Spearmen at the front, the Jade Archers ready to fire, and the Dragon’s Chosen flanking Ainsworth, their swords drawn. They moved cautiously into the cave, the air growing colder and damper with each step. The walls of the cave were lined with jagged stones, and the ground was slick with moisture. Darkness closed in around them, but Ainsworth pressed forward, his confidence unwavering.

As they ventured deeper into the cave, a faint, glowing light appeared ahead. Ainsworth’s heart quickened with anticipation. This was it—the lair of the manticore. But as they rounded a bend, the glow grew brighter, and a wave of heat washed over them. Something was wrong.

Suddenly, a low, rumbling growl filled the cave, vibrating the very walls around them. Ainsworth halted, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the darkness. The glow intensified, revealing a massive shape curled up at the far end of the cavern. It was not a manticore.

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A drake lay before them—a massive creature with four wings folded against its back and scales as black as obsidian, glinting like diamonds in the dim light. Its eyes glowed like molten lava, and steam billowed from its nostrils. The beast uncurled itself, rising to its full height, its scales scraping against the walls of the cave.

Ainsworth felt a jolt of fear—real fear—for the first time in years. This was no ordinary creature. The drake opened its mouth, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth, and let out a deafening roar that echoed through the cave. It reared back, its chest glowing with an intense heat. Then, with a sudden burst, it spewed forth a torrent of magma, the fiery liquid scorching the ground as it surged toward the army.

“Shields up!” Ainsworth shouted, his voice cracking with a mix of command and panic.

The Jade Spearmen scrambled to raise their shields, forming a barrier against the searing heat, but the force of the magma was immense. Several soldiers were engulfed in the molten flow, their screams echoing through the cave as they were consumed by the fire. The Jade Archers loosed a volley of arrows, but the projectiles shattered harmlessly against the drake’s diamond-hard scales.

Ainsworth’s mind raced. He had expected a manticore, not a drake. The creature’s black scales were impenetrable, and its fiery breath was unlike anything he had ever faced. He could feel the heat on his face, sweat pouring down his brow as he tried to think of a strategy. The cave that had seemed like a place of victory now felt like a death trap.

The Dragon’s Chosen rushed forward, their swords made from the bones of an ancient giant glinting in the dim light. They moved with the precision and skill that made them legends, slashing at the drake’s underbelly where its scales were thinner. But the drake was fast and furious. It swung its massive tail, sending several of the Dragon’s Chosen crashing into the cave walls with bone-shattering force.

Ainsworth watched in horror as his elite force struggled against the beast. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of fear and anger. He had underestimated the danger, overestimated his own strength. This was no simple hunt—this was a fight for survival.

Ainsworth gritted his teeth and raised his spear, Azure, its jade blade gleaming in the dim light of the cave. His heart pounded with fear, but he tried to steady himself. He was the heir of Edun, a leader of men. He could not falter now.

“Charge!” he shouted, more to bolster his own courage than to direct his men. He rushed forward, spear aimed at the drake’s glowing chest.

The drake’s eyes locked onto him, molten and fierce. It snarled, its jaws parting to reveal rows of jagged, razor-sharp teeth. With a sudden burst of movement, the beast swung its massive tail toward Ainsworth. He barely managed to dodge, feeling the rush of air and the force of the tail’s passing as it crashed into the cave wall, sending rocks and debris flying.

Panic surged through him. The drake was far more powerful than he had anticipated. The walls of the cave began to tremble, loose stones cascading down as the ground shook beneath their feet. He glanced back and saw his soldiers fighting desperately. The Dragon’s Chosen were being thrown aside like ragdolls, their white armor battered and broken. The Jade Spearmen and Archers were in disarray, their formations shattered, their shouts filling the air with chaos and fear.

Ainsworth’s breath quickened, his hands trembling. He took a step back, then another. The drake reared up again, its chest glowing brighter, preparing to unleash another torrent of magma. The heat was unbearable, sweat pouring down Ainsworth’s face, his armor feeling like an oven. He knew in that moment that he had made a terrible mistake. This was not a hunt—it was a massacre.

Fear gripped his heart, squeezing tighter with every second. He saw the drake’s mouth open wide, and instinct took over. He turned on his heel and began to flee, his spear clattering to the ground behind him.

“GIVE US ORDER SIRE!” one of the Dragon’s Chosen shouted, but his voice was lost in the chaos of battle.

“Help us! I have a family!” another soldier cried, reaching out toward Ainsworth, his eyes wide with terror.

But Ainsworth did not reply. He didn’t look back. He pushed past his men, ignoring their pleas for direction. The cave was collapsing around them, the walls cracking, and large chunks of rock falling from the ceiling. He could hear the screams of his soldiers as they were struck down, either by the drake or by the cave itself.

Desperation clawed at him. He shoved aside a Jade Spearman who tried to grab his arm, knocking the man to the ground. Another soldier stumbled in his path, but Ainsworth brushed him aside, ignoring the man’s panicked cries. The ground shook violently, and Ainsworth nearly lost his footing, but he kept running, driven by a single, overpowering instinct: survival.

As he neared the cave entrance, the ceiling gave way in a deafening crash, a cloud of dust and debris billowing around him. He lunged forward, diving through the collapsing archway just as the cave entrance caved in behind him, sealing his men inside. He landed hard on the rocky ground outside, gasping for breath, his body trembling with fear and adrenaline.

He lay there for a moment, catching his breath, his mind racing. He could hear the muffled cries of his soldiers trapped inside, their voices pleading for help. He glanced back at the cave entrance, now a pile of rubble, but he didn’t move to help. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Then, with a deafening roar, the drake burst through the collapsed cave, sending rocks flying in all directions. Its massive wings unfurled, and it reared up, its eyes blazing with fury. It let out a roar that shook the very earth, its fiery breath turning the debris into molten rock. The drake’s scales glistened like obsidian in the sunlight, a terrifying contrast to the bright day.

Ainsworth’s heart pounded in his chest as he scrambled to his feet and stumbled away, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His once-mighty army lay in ruins, their cries still echoing in his ears, but he pushed forward, driven by the overwhelming desire to escape. He didn’t dare look back, not at the drake, not at the fallen soldiers, not at the destruction he had wrought. All he could think of was getting as far away as possible, to survive this nightmare he had unwittingly unleashed. And what would father think of this?