**Chapter Six**
The next day, the wyrmlings gathered around a makeshift arena, their excitement palpable. A few young dragons and one juvenile stood as hosts and referees for the wyrmling tournament. The juvenile raised his voice, commanding attention.
"Today is the Wyrmling Tournament, an event approved by our elder to test which wyrmling possesses the most strength and magical talent. The reward will be a couple of silver coins for your hoards—a generous amount for wyrmlings like you. The matches will be random."
The young dragons began circulating among us, collecting our names for the tournament. As they worked, I glanced around, taking in the scene. There were 24 wyrmlings in total, including my siblings and me. Mother had mentioned there were 17 wyrmlings when we first hatched, along with three other hatchlings from the previous clutch.
I should also note that female dragons only go into heat once every 100 years, and even then, it only lasts for a week. During this time, females can bear a clutch, but there’s no guarantee the eggs will be fertilized. This explains why dragons don’t overpopulate the world. Another thing—our clan is composed solely of blue dragons, which are quite rare. However, it makes sense given this is a smaller clan. My father once mentioned there might be a few greens or two nearby, but not many.
My thoughts were interrupted as the first match was called. Two wyrmlings, one 3-year-old and the other 4 years old, stepped forward. Both dragons bared their teeth and flared their wings, eager to prove their might. The rest of us formed a circle around the arena, ready to witness lightning and fury.
The larger wyrmling moved first, flying in with his right claw raised, aiming for the smaller one’s eye. But the smaller dragon ducked and twisted away with impressive agility. Undeterred, the older wyrmling quickly spun around and unleashed a crackling bolt of lightning. It seared the air, but the smaller wyrmling, anticipating the attack, leaped to the side and narrowly avoided the blast.
The crowd gasped, murmuring excitedly. The smaller dragon retaliated, sending his own lightning breath toward the larger wyrmling. The older wyrmling, unprepared after his own attack, was struck, his muscles seizing from the shock. The smaller wyrmling seized the opportunity, lunging forward and scratching his opponent’s side before blasting him with another breath attack.
The larger dragon roared in defiance but was quickly subdued as the smaller wyrmling flipped him over and locked his jaws around his neck. “Submit!” the smaller wyrmling growled.
“I SUBMIT!” the older one yelled in frustration.
The juvenile referee raised his voice. “Xytherion wins this round!”
A cheer erupted from the crowd, including from my siblings, who roared their approval. Xytherion released his opponent and trotted back toward his friends and clutchmates with pride.
The tournament continued, each match filled with intensity. Vaelrath, my ever-optimistic brother, defeated his opponent—a 1-year-old female from the other clutch—in a close battle. Zarothan, calm and calculating as always, wore down his opponent, a 2-year-old male, with a relentless barrage of ranged attacks, ultimately defeating him. Zalyndre, acting ever the fiery warrior despite being a blue, overpowered her opponent, a 2-year-old male, with sheer force.
“Watch it, flame-head,” Zarothan teased Zalyndre after her match, referencing her red-dragon-like temperament.
She nearly lunged at him in response, but I stepped in to calm her before things escalated. Then it was my turn.
I approached the arena, Vaelrath’s words ringing in my ears. “Crush your opponent, Azuron!” His usual cheerfulness was an attempt to mask his nerves.
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My opponent was a 4-year-old female named Vexora. As her name was called, the clearing seemed to grow still. I hadn’t expected to face her this early in the tournament. Vexora had a fierce reputation, and her dark blue scales shimmered like storm clouds. Her confidence radiated from her, her eyes filled with focus.
I stepped forward, feeling the weight of my siblings' gazes on me. Vaelrath flashed me an encouraging grin, while Zalyndre, ever acting like a red, snorted in amusement. "Better not lose, Azuron," she teased, flicking her tail in mock arrogance.
Ignoring her, I locked eyes with Vexora as we took our positions in the center of the circle. The juvenile overseeing the tournament raised his voice. “Azuron versus Vexora! Begin!”
Vexora wasted no time. She launched herself into the air, her wings propelling her forward with startling speed. Her claws were outstretched, aiming for my side. But I was ready. I quickly backflapped my wings, dodging her strike by inches. Her claws sliced through the air, but the force stirred the dust beneath us.
Before she could recover, I retaliated. Lightning crackled through me as I summoned a tier-3 spell, sending a bolt directly at her. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she twisted midair, and the lightning only grazed her shoulder instead of hitting her full-on.
"Is that the best you’ve got?" she taunted, her voice filled with frustration.
I didn't answer, only adjusted my stance. Vexora might be older and larger, but I wasn’t going to let her overpower me.
She charged again, her wings flaring as she breathed a stream of lightning in my direction. I reacted instantly, casting air magic to increase my speed. I dodged to the side, but her lightning was faster than I anticipated. It struck my left wing, and pain shot through me as the electricity coursed through my body. Still, I gritted my teeth and fought through it, refusing to let it slow me down.
I retaliated with another lightning spell, this one a tier-2. The bolt arced through the air, striking her back. Vexora cried out as her muscles seized from the shock. She stumbled, claws digging into the dirt to steady herself.
This was my opening.
With a burst of speed, I launched myself at her, my claws raking across her side. She roared in pain, trying to snap at me with her jaws, but I was already gone, circling behind her with the help of another air spell.
“Getting tired already, Vexora?” I taunted, hovering just out of her reach.
Her growl deepened, and her eyes burned with fury. She was weakening, her movements slower and more labored than before. The crowd of wyrmlings watched in rapt silence, some murmuring in surprise at how the battle had shifted. Even Vaelrath was on the edge of his claws, watching intently.
Vexora attempted one last charge, but her body couldn’t keep up. Her muscles betrayed her, still recovering from the lightning shocks. I could see her frustration as she struggled to push through the pain, but she was losing control.
It was time to end it.
Summoning the last of my energy, I cast a powerful tier-4 lightning spell, pouring all my strength into it. The bolt crackled through the air, and before Vexora could dodge, it struck her square in the chest. She was thrown to the ground, letting out a roar of pain.
Before she could rise, I pounced, pinning her to the ground with my claws on her shoulders. My jaws closed around the back of her neck—not hard enough to hurt her, but firm enough to assert my dominance.
“Submit,” I growled, my voice low and commanding.
Vexora thrashed beneath me for a moment, her wings flapping weakly, but she was trapped. After a few seconds, she let out a defeated snarl. “I... submit.”
The referee's voice echoed across the clearing. “Azuron wins!”
The crowd of wyrmlings erupted into cheers and roars of approval. I stepped off Vexora and backed away, watching as she slowly rose to her feet. She shot me a sharp glance, her pride clearly wounded, but there was no hatred in her eyes—just respect. With a huff, she turned and limped back toward her clutchmates, her head still held high despite the defeat.
I returned to my siblings, the adrenaline still buzzing through my veins. Vaelrath was beaming with pride. “That was amazing, Azuron! You really showed her!”
Zalyndre, still trying to act unimpressed, gave a small smirk. “Not bad, brother,” she muttered, though I could tell she was pleased.
Zarothan nodded in approval. “Well fought, brother. You handled yourself with skill.”
I didn’t respond immediately, my mind still racing with the thrill of victory. Winning the first round felt great, but I knew the tournament was far from over. There were still stronger opponents to face, and I was eager for the challenge.
As the next match was called, my gaze shifted toward Nimbra, the last tournament’s winner. She hadn’t fought yet, but her presence loomed over the tournament like a storm cloud. I could see her watching me from the edge of the arena, her eyes sharp and focused. She was the one I truly wanted to face—graceful, strong, and with an undefeated reputation.
But for now, I had proven myself. The tournament continued, and with each match, my anticipation for the next challenge grew. This was only the beginning.