The reason we are meeting today is because Krisian has started to step outside of the comfortable space we've kept him in," Kael said, his voice laced with danger. "He's becoming a threat. We need to remind him of his place—that he's nothing more than a bastard, a pawn in our game."
Darian nodded, a cold look in his eyes. "We can't let him think he's something more. His place is beneath us, always has been."
Lucian's laugh was soft and dark, void of humor. "And how do you propose we do that?" he asked, his voice dripping with malice. "We have Vordimoth's blessing. The power to control Sillax, the most powerful dragon in the world. We'll use that against him."
Kael's expression darkened. "It won't be easy. Using Sillax could kill him in the process."
Lucian smirked. "One less problem to deal with," he said casually, as though Krisian's life meant little compared to their ambitions.
Meanwhile, Krisian was already stepping into Juvenera, the grand city looming ahead. The towering spires of Vordimoth Castle greeted him as he moved through the bustling streets. His brothers' plans weren't far from his thoughts, but he had no intention of being a pawn in their game.
A voice whispered to him, almost like a breeze against his ear. "Your brothers have made their move, as you feared. But don't worry... your turn will come soon enough. Prepare for what lies ahead."
Krisian smiled faintly to himself. "So, it begins," he muttered under his breath. "But it won't end the way they think."
The Day of the Ceremonial Hunt arrived, filling the air with tension. Vordimoth's grand hall was alive with murmurs as the crowd gathered, anticipation heavy in the atmosphere.
Vordimoth stood before them, raising his hand to silence the room. His voice, rich and commanding, filled the space. "Today, we gather for the hunt that takes place every five years," he announced. "But this time, there is something new. For the first time, my son, Henry Voss, will participate in the hunt."
A ripple of surprise spread through the room, whispers rising as everyone turned their gaze to Henry Voss, the son who had been hidden in the shadows for so long. The eyes of the room followed him with mixed expressions—curiosity, expectation, and skepticism.
Vordimoth continued, his eyes sweeping over the assembly. "And this hunt, for the first time in history, will be enhanced by the magic of the sorceress Alena of Juvebar, who has pledged her assistance. Together, we will sing the ancient incantations that will make this hunt more than just a game."
The air crackled with magic and anticipation as Krisian, standing at the back of the hall, watched his father. He knew that this hunt would be a turning point. His brothers had their plans, but Krisian had his own—and they would soon see that his move was already in motion.
As the hunt began, Krisian stood alone, his armor gleaming under the harsh sun. It wasn't just the weight of the armor he felt; it was the weight of expectation, both from his father and his brothers. But Krisian wasn't concerned with their expectations—he had something to prove. This was more than just a hunt. It was his moment to prove that he was no mere bastard, no pawn in their game.
Leaving MG behind, he walked forward into the vast arena, a place where only the strongest survived. His brothers' laughter echoed in his mind, mocking him.
"You're so predictable," Kael's voice from earlier haunted him, but Krisian shrugged it off. He would show them. He would show them all.
As the first wave of orcs approached, Krisian took a deep breath. These beasts were formidable, their muscles bulging, their weapons raised, ready to strike. But Krisian's mind was sharp, focused, and he wasted no time in launching himself into the fray.
His sword gleamed as it swung through the air, effortlessly cutting through the thick air, and the first orc fell to the ground with a guttural roar. The others rushed in, but Krisian was faster. His movements were fluid, graceful even, as he danced through the battlefield, each strike a testament to his growing power.
The orcs, with their brute strength, attempted to overpower him, but Krisian's agility and precision were unmatched. He blocked one heavy swing, then ducked under another, using the momentum of his evasion to strike back with a thrust of his blade. A second orc fell to the ground with a harsh scream.
Kael, watching from afar, chuckled. "You're so predictable, Krisian," he muttered under his breath. "Always rushing into things. You'll fall just like the rest."
But Krisian paid him no mind. He fought with the speed of someone who had trained for this very moment his entire life. The orcs continued to attack, but each one was dispatched with brutal efficiency. It was as though they were nothing more than obstacles in his path.
Within minutes, the last of the orcs lay dead at his feet. Their bodies littered the ground, their blood staining the earth. Krisian stood there, breathing heavily but with no visible sign of exhaustion. His eyes, however, were fixed on his brothers.
"Sillax will do the rest," Lucian said from the sidelines, his voice full of venom. He, too, had been watching Krisian's progress with growing frustration. Krisian's display of strength wasn't something they had anticipated. But there was something more—something they planned to unleash.
Krisian's eyes narrowed as he began walking forward, his mind calculating every step. He had known that this was just the beginning. His brothers' next move was already in motion. The massive form of Sillax, the legendary dragon, was coming.
The ground trembled, and the roar of wings filled the air. Krisian turned his gaze towards the horizon as the colossal creature appeared, its wings blocking out the sun. The air grew heavy with its presence, and the earth shook beneath its power.
Sillax landed with a thunderous crash, his massive form towering over Krisian. His scales shimmered with a dark magic, his eyes burning with ancient fury.
Krisian stood his ground, unflinching. He knew that this moment had arrived—the moment he would face his greatest challenge.
"Ah, my dear Celestial Court member," Krisian said, his voice calm, despite the raging dragon before him. "I've come all this way to see you, and yet you're trying to kill me?"
Sillax snarled, his voice low and rumbling like thunder. "Your bloodline cursed me to this form. I cannot serve you. I cannot help you."
Krisian smiled darkly, not at all intimidated. "What if I told you I could free you from that curse?"
Sillax's fiery gaze flickered, confusion creeping into his ancient eyes. "Impossible. Only Vergas can break the curse. You cannot do this."
Krisian chuckled. "Ah, Vergas? My slave."
Sillax's eyes widened. "The Demon Lord is your slave?"
"Yes," Krisian said with a nonchalant shrug. "It's a long story, but that's for another time." His eyes gleamed with an unsettling confidence. "So, do you accept my offer, or will you choose death?"
For a moment, Sillax was silent, his immense form frozen in place. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he leaned closer to Krisian, his voice a low growl. "You have no idea what you're offering, mortal. But your words... they hold power."
Krisian stood firm, not flinching. "Then let's see if you're brave enough to take it."
With a flick of his wrist, Krisian raised his sword, the blade catching the last rays of sunlight. The battle wasn't over. This was just the beginning.
Krisian laughed, a cold, haunting sound that echoed through the arena. He reached up, pulling down the magical screen he had previously removed. The magical barrier that had been set up to observe the fight crackled as it reappeared, and all eyes were once again fixed on Krisian and the dragon, Sillax.
The onlookers were frozen in shock. The spectacle before them was impossible to comprehend. Krisian, the so-called "bastard," was not only holding his own against the mightiest of beasts, but he was winning.
The crowd watched in stunned silence as Krisian swung his sword, slashing through Sillax's scaled hide, each strike a testament to his strength. The dragon roared in fury, but Krisian, unfazed, continued his relentless assault.
Even Vordimoth, seated high above in the viewing chambers, was struck with disbelief. His eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing as he watched Krisian battle with the legendary beast. How could he be this powerful? Vordimoth thought.
Krisian's voice broke through the silence as he stood tall before Sillax. His blade hovered dangerously close to the dragon's throat, and his eyes blazed with a fire that matched the inferno of the creature before him.
"You've tested my patience, Sillax," Krisian said coldly. "Do you understand that I'm not using my full power right now?"
Sillax snarled, her eyes glowing like molten amber. "Krisian... You think you can defeat me? I am the most powerful dragon in existence. You are just a mortal, a bastard. You're nothing."
Krisian's smile grew darker. "I'll ask you one more time: do you want to be freed from your curse or do you want to die?" His tone was ice-cold, without a hint of hesitation.
Sillax paused, her eyes flickering with doubt. She knew the power Krisian held, but she wasn't ready to give in. Not yet.
But Krisian was done waiting. He raised his sword high, breaking through the magical barrier above them. The screen that had been watching them crackled and shattered into pieces.
"Enough," Krisian muttered under his breath as he uttered an incantation in an ancient tongue, his voice resonating with power.
A blinding light filled the arena as the air thickened with energy. A presence—massive, dark, and powerful—descended from the sky. The very earth seemed to tremble as the Demon Lord, Vergas, was summoned.
Vergas' voice rumbled like thunder as he appeared before Krisian. "You have called me, mortal. What is it you desire?"
"Free her," Krisian said simply, his gaze still fixed on Sillax. "Free her from the curse that binds her to this form. She has done her part."
Vergas looked down at Krisian, his expression unreadable. "You wish me to free a dragon, a creature bound by ancient magic, a being whose very soul has been twisted? Do you understand what you're asking?"
"I understand," Krisian replied with quiet confidence. "But I didn't ask for your opinion. Free her now."
Vergas nodded, his voice echoing through the air. "As you wish."
With a single wave of his hand, Vergas summoned a powerful surge of magic. Sillax's enormous form began to shrink, her scales melting away like sand in the wind. She was no longer the terrifying dragon, but a beautiful woman, with scarlet hair and eyes glowing like fire. She was graceful and powerful, her magic strong and untamed.
Krisian's eyes darkened, and he drew a golden rune into the air, speaking words of binding. The light from the rune enveloped Sillax, sealing her power.
"You are bound to me now," Krisian said firmly, "and you will not betray me, or I will take your freedom back."
Sillax, now in human form, glared at him, but there was no escape. "I understand," she hissed, her voice still holding the remnants of her dragon's growl.
"Good," Krisian replied, his tone icy. He turned to face the crowd once more, his eyes scanning for MG.
"MG, I know you're hiding in that tree," Krisian said, his voice carrying across the arena. "Come out."
From behind a large tree, MG emerged, stepping into the clearing with a bow of his head. "I couldn't let you fight alone, Your Majesty," he said. "Now, take Sillax to the palace. I'll make sure the others think she's dead."
Krisian nodded. "Do what you must."
As MG took Sillax and led her away, Krisian turned back to the battlefield. He reached into his bag and pulled out a fake copy of Sillax's body, a perfect replica made with illusion magic. With one last glance at his fallen foes, he stepped away from the arena, heading back toward the palace, where victory awaited.
The ceremonial hunt continued, but Krisian was declared the winner. His brothers—Kael, Lucian, and Darian—watched in furious silence as the ceremony concluded. They couldn't believe what had just happened. Krisian had beaten Sillax, the dragon, and had done what none of them had expected. He had taken control of the hunt—and, in a way, taken control of their destiny.
Kael, barely able to contain his rage, muttered under his breath, "You're a fool if you think you can defeat me like this."
Krisian leaned in close to Kael, whispering in his ear, his voice low and threatening. "The next time you try to kill me, Kael, it will be you I bring to the ground. Not a dragon."
And with that, Krisian walked away, leaving his brothers seething with fury and confusion. He had won. He had proven that he was no longer the weakling they had once underestimated. And now, with Sillax by his side, he was ready for whatever came next