The golden haze of Eula's Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon lingered over the Lawrence estate, its triple roar still echoing through Mondstadt's valleys as the beast's massive silhouette dominated the sky. In the courtyard below, Schubert Lawrence sprawled on the cracked marble, his velvet doublet dusted with grit, his cane forgotten beside him. His breaths came in ragged gasps, but his eyes blazed with a fervor that outshone his fear—a wild, almost manic excitement at the sight of the three-headed colossus his niece had summoned. "The Lawrence revival is at hand—the nobility's glory will reclaim this land!" he rasped, his voice trembling with conviction as he propped himself up, staring at the dragon's silver scales glinting like a crown against the dusk.
To Schubert, this wasn't just a spectacle—it was destiny unfolding, a vindication of his family's faded honor. The Blue-Eyes White Dragon alone had rivaled Stormterror in majesty, but this fused titan, with its triple maws and wings that spanned the horizon, felt like a god of the air, a force to eclipse even the Four Winds' guardian. "With Eula wielding this, our triumph is assured—why should we fear anything?" he murmured, his mustache twitching as he envisioned a Mondstadt bowing once more to Lawrence banners. In his mind, she'd played the long game, infiltrating the Knights to steal this power—a heroic subterfuge he'd mistaken for betrayal—and now stood poised to restore their legacy.
Across the city, the dragon's presence sent ripples of chaos through Mondstadt's cobblestone streets, its shadow sweeping over rooftops like a storm cloud unleashed. Townsfolk spilled from taverns and shops, their shouts mingling with the clatter of dropped baskets as they craned their necks skyward. "By the Anemo Archon—another dragon?!" a baker bellowed, flour-dusted hands shielding his eyes as the beast's three heads snarled in unison. "It's got three heads—Stormterror's got nothing on that!" a flower vendor cried, her voice shrill with panic as petals scattered in the wind kicked up by its wings.
"Is this revenge for yesterday's fight? First Stormterror, now this?!" a grizzled merchant muttered, clutching his cart as if it could shield him from the looming threat. The city still bore scars from the Wind Dragon's rampage—shattered windmills, singed fields—and the memory of that battle, barely a day old, fueled their dread. "Someone fetch the Knights—Acting Grand Master Jean needs to handle this!" a young seamstress pleaded, her voice lost in the growing clamor as citizens bolted toward the cathedral square, seeking answers or sanctuary.
At the Knights of Favonius headquarters, Kaeya Alberich stood by a towering window, his eyepatch glinting as he peered out at the silver leviathan dominating the skyline. The office was a fortress of oak and steel, its walls lined with maps and swords, but the air felt heavy with unease as a junior knight burst in, panting. "Sir Kaeya—reports from the city! A three-headed dragon's appeared over the Lawrence district!" the boy stammered, his armor clanking as he saluted. Kaeya's lips pressed into a thin line, his usual smirk absent as he studied the beast's coiled form, its scales catching the last rays of sunlight like molten silver.
"Another dragon in Mondstadt—how curious," he mused aloud, his voice low and measured, though a flicker of tension tightened his grip on the windowsill. Jean was away with Lumine, tracking Stormterror's retreat to purify its corruption, leaving him as the acting commander—a role he relished but rarely faced with such immediate stakes. "Could this be the Traveler's doing?" he wondered silently, recalling Lumine's transformation into a cyan dragon during yesterday's clash, a spectacle that had turned the tide against the corrupted beast. But no—she and Jean were miles from the city, and this dragon's aura felt different, less feral, more… staged.
"Don't fret—it's all bark, no bite," a familiar voice drawled, cutting through his thoughts as Lisa sauntered into the room, her hat tilted rakishly atop her dark curls. She leaned against a bookshelf, her Thunder Card tucked into her belt, radiating a faint static hum. "That's Eula's handiwork—another gift from Harlan Flint's comic shop," she added, her smile lazy but knowing as she met Kaeya's skeptical gaze. She'd spotted the dragon on her way back from testing her laptop's Digimon data, its resemblance to Eula's earlier Blue-Eyes White Dragon unmistakable despite its grander scale.
Kaeya arched a brow, his suspicion lingering. "You're telling me that hulking thing—bigger than Stormterror, mind you—has no claws behind its roar?" He gestured out the window, where the dragon's heads weaved in a slow, almost theatrical arc, its presence commanding but oddly serene. Lisa chuckled, brushing a speck of dust from her sleeve. "It's from Yu-Gi-Oh—a card game turned real, courtesy of Harlan's magic. Eula's just flexing her deck; it's not here to raze the city." She'd seen the Blue-Eyes White Dragon before, but this fused form—Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon, she guessed—amped up the flair tenfold.
After a quick rundown—cards, duels, Harlan's shop—Kaeya's tension eased, replaced by a spark of intrigue. "So that's another trick from our mysterious shopkeeper," he said, a grin tugging at his lips as he leaned back, arms crossed. He'd heard whispers of Galehaven Comics—Knights like Amber and Lisa returning with powers straight out of fantasy—but his duties had kept him chained to paperwork and patrols. "Once Jean and Lumine wrap up with Stormterror, I'm paying that place a visit," he resolved, his tone light but firm, already imagining what comic might suit his own flair—something sly, perhaps, with a touch of frost.
He turned to the junior knight, his smirk returning. "Spread the word—calm the civilians; tell them it's a Knight's training drill gone loud. No need for a city-wide meltdown." The boy nodded and darted off, leaving Kaeya to gaze at the dragon once more, its silver form a stark contrast to the twilight sky. Harlan's shop was rewriting Mondstadt's rules, one comic at a time, and he intended to claim his share of the chaos.
Meanwhile, beyond Mondstadt's walls, a lone Abyss Mage scrambled through the whispering grasses of Windrise, its tattered robes snagging on thorns as it fled with frantic urgency. Its staff clattered against rocks, its watery form shimmering with panic as it cast fearful glances over its shoulder. "Curse those Mondstadters—meddling fools!" it hissed, its voice a gurgling snarl as it stumbled toward a hidden teleport waypoint nestled among ancient oaks. It had been part of a cadre tasked with deepening Stormterror's corruption in the Wind Dragon Ruins, a scheme to twist the beast into a weapon for the Abyss Order's war machine.
Their plan had been meticulous—lure Stormterror with a bard's melody, then sabotage the Skyward Lyre from within its corrupted hide. Victory had seemed close; the lyre shattered, its notes silenced. But then Jean and Lumine struck—Jean's Haki shockwaves rattling its bones, Lumine's wind mastery tearing through their ranks. The dragon was subdued, its taint purged, and the Abyss Mage had bolted as its comrades fell, its mission in tatters. "The Prince's kin—here, thwarting us again," it muttered, its mind racing with the need to warn its master, the Abyss Prince, of Lumine's interference.
As it crested a hill, Mondstadt's skyline came into view, and the mage froze, its watery eyes widening in horror. The Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon loomed above the city, its triple heads roaring in a chorus that shook the earth, its silver bulk a monument of raw power. "Another dragon—stronger than Twarin?!" it gasped, its staff trembling in its grip as the beast's aura washed over the plains, a tidal wave of dominance that dwarfed Stormterror's fury. It had thought Twarin the pinnacle of Mondstadt's might, ripe for their corruption—now this titan challenged everything it knew.
A twisted glee flickered in its gaze, ambition clawing past its fear. "If we could harness that—mold it into a war beast—the Prince's legions would crush all resistance!" The mage's mind spun with visions: the Ultimate Dragon, its scales blackened by Abyss taint, raining havoc on Mondstadt's walls, its three maws spewing chaos. Twarin had been a gamble; this could be a checkmate. "I must report this—His Highness needs to know!" it declared, its resolve hardening as it gripped its staff, teleporting away in a swirl of dark mist, bound for the Abyss's shadowed halls.
Back in the Lawrence courtyard, Eula lowered her Duel Disk, the Ultimate Dragon fading into a shimmer of light as she caught her breath, her Cryo Vision pulsing faintly at her hip. The air settled, the wind dying to a whisper, but her pulse still raced with the thrill of what she'd unleashed—a fusion born of Harlan's comics, a power that felt both alien and hers. Schubert staggered to his feet, dusting off his doublet, his eyes locked on her with a mix of reverence and suspicion. "Eula—if this is your plan to lift us, you've outdone every ancestor," he said, his voice hoarse but earnest, clinging to his undercover tale.
She tilted her head, puzzled by his tone—admiration from Schubert was as rare as a sunny day in Dragonspine—but shrugged it off, her mind still on the dragon's majesty. "It's just a card game, Uncle—no grand schemes here," she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she turned back toward the estate, leaving him to his delusions. Above, the city buzzed with rumors, Kaeya plotted his comic shop visit, and the Abyss Mage's report sped toward a prince who'd soon cast his gaze on Mondstadt anew—Harlan's shop, unwittingly, igniting a storm far beyond its cozy walls
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