Vacuse stared at his father, the man he had swore to kill, and he nodded. "I will be the heir of the Vorrakyn."
His voice was solemn.
It was, after all, him achieving one of his dreams. One of his ambitions and goals.
Be the heir. Be the Dragon Lord and then spread the wings of the family. Be someone that can decide their own fate.
Take his revenge.
Be what he wasn't in his past life—a man of power.
His voice echoed in the room, solemn and dignified, lacking in arrogance or pride. There was no joy of victory in his voice. Only acceptance. A challenge.
Those who heard him felt something they've never felt in a while; they felt their blood stir because a true son of the Dragon was there among them.
Even the walls seemed to breathe a sigh.
Drenvar smiled, his face flushed with both greed and envy, but even those emotions couldn't erase the joy he was radiating. He had dedicated his life to the reviving of his family, and he finally got a chance.
