At the summit of the Dark Dragon Mountain, in the courtyard of the Lost Prince within the Black Jewel Palace, a violent storm raged. Thunder echoed through the sky, and flashes of lightning illuminated the scene, as though an otherworldly force controlled the tempest. Dimensional cracks appeared at the edges of the sky, resembling gateways to another realm. The atmosphere shifted unexpectedly, casting an eerie, ghostly light over the landscape.

In the center of the red hall, two shadows faced each other, locked in a silent standoff. The first figure wore white armor with black streaks along the sides, a mask adorned with the horns of a real demon. He held a long, double-edged white sword. Opposite him stood the second figure, clad in golden armor embellished with designs resembling tree roots, his golden mask completely concealing his face, save for his eyes. He wielded a majestic spear, a testament to countless battles fought.

A chilling silence hung between them as they stared at each other.

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“Was this the only option?” asked the man in golden armor, his voice cold and filled with betrayal.

The man in white armor remained silent for a moment before replying in a wooden tone, "After that incident, we were left with no choices. I asked you to follow me, but you refused."

The thunder roared louder, causing the windows to tremble.

“Ragnar, you know fate decreed that she had to go. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Your fault was letting her go,” Ragnar retorted, his voice brimming with anger. “There’s no time for words now. Let’s finish what we started twenty years ago. Will you lose the race again, Aryk?” He raised his sword, pointing it towards the man in golden armor.

“Damn you, Ragnar!” Aryk shouted, resolute. “Even if our mother commanded me to protect you, I’ll bring you back to the right path, even if it requires force!” He readied himself for battle, his eyes burning with determination.

A powerful golden and white aura filled the hall, and dragon-like forms began to materialize around them as they charged at one another. Their weapons—sword and spear—were about to clash, but in the moment just before impact, they exchanged one final glance, each silently wondering, "How did it come to this?"