The banquet that sealed his engagement also marked the beginning of whispers that spread across kingdoms.
"The dragon prince," they called him- arrogant, proud, untamable.
But beyond the borders of the Amethystus Dynasty, in the vast lands of the Velthar Dominion, another prodigy was rising, one whose roars shook mountains and whose claws split stone.
The heavens were destined to tremble when those two met.
Five years later.
The sun blazed above the skies of the Velthar Dominion as a majestic draconic carriage soared through the clouds, flanked by knights clad in obsidian armor. Within it sat Draziel Amethystus, his golden eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"They say the Velthar Prince has the blood of the White Tiger," he murmured with a smirk. "Let's see if he can roar louder than a dragon."
The grand doors of the beastly citadel opened, revealing Raizen-tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes sharp as lightning. The rulers exchanged greetings, yet the air was thick with tension. The young princes did not bow, nor speak.
Their gazes locked, mana flickering like wildfire between them.
"If you two plan on destroying my throne room," Raizen's father said calmly, "at least do it in the colosseum."
The heat of the colosseum was thick, filled with anticipation. Knights, nobles, and servants gathered on the stands, murmuring about the two prodigies that would soon collide. The air shimmered with mana, heavy and tense.
Draziel stood in the center of the arena, his long violet-gold hair tied behind him, his golden eyes locked on the beast prince across the field. Raizen of the Velthar Dominion the descendant of the White Tiger stood tall, with wild white hair streaked with blue, and faint markings glowing along his arms. His very presence exuded a primal, caged fury.
Above them, the kings watched, Dracovin Amethystus and King Kael'thar Velthar, two monarchs who ruled their realms with the strength of dragons and beasts alike.
"Try not to break anything too valuable," Kael'thar said with a grin, folding his arms.
Dracovin chuckled. "No promises. That's my son you're talking about."
The referee hesitated to start the match. But neither prince waited for permission.
In the blink of an eye, both vanished from their spots- their fists colliding midair with a sound like thunder cracking through stone. The sheer impact blew dust and debris outward in a golden-white shockwave.
"Fast!" one of the knights exclaimed.
"Monsters," whispered another.
Draziel spun, bringing his leg upward in a roundhouse, only for Raizen to duck and counter with an upward claw strike. Sparks flew as scales briefly shimmered across Draziel's arm, deflecting the blow.
"You're not bad," Raizen said, grinning, eyes glowing faintly.
Draziel smirked. "You haven't even seen me try."
He lunged forward, shoulder-first, slamming Raizen back a few meters. But the tiger prince slid across the stone, feet carving grooves into the ground. He steadied himself then let out a deep, guttural growl that echoed across the colosseum.
The air trembled.
His veins glowed faintly as the markings across his skin expanded, forming stripes of shimmering azure light. His pupils slit like a predator's, fangs elongating. His muscles swelled with divine energy.
"Feral Pulse…" murmured one of the Velthar elders, awe in his voice.
It was the beastmen's ancestral battle state- the awakening of their primal bloodline, allowing them to tap into the raw instincts of their forebears. Strength, speed, agility all amplified.
Raizen crouched low, mana bursting around him like wind before a storm. "You ready, dragon?"
Draziel grinned wider, rolling his neck as faint crimson veins pulsed along his arms. "Two can play at that game."
His aura exploded outward, crimson and violet intertwining in a serpentine dance. The ground beneath his feet cracked. His nails elongated into sharp, gleaming claws, his pupils narrowed into slits, and faint draconic scales shimmered across his cheekbones. His fangs grew sharper, his presence heavier — regal, violent, ancient.
"The Frenzy Mode…" whispered Dracovin Amethystus, his eyes narrowing slightly in pride.
Frenzy- the Dragonian counterpart to the Feral Pulse. Both states harnessed their bloodlines' primal instincts, unleashing the beast within. Royals with dense bloodlines could control it, but if their emotions burned too fiercely- rage, pride, passion- they risked falling into complete madness.
The air between the two kings' sons distorted as their auras clashed, forming a visible vortex of energy.
Then, they vanished again.
Fists met claws, knees struck ribs, tails of energy whipped across the field. Every collision sounded like an explosion. The earth beneath them shattered, the shockwaves cracking the walls of the colosseum.
Raizen ducked beneath a strike and swept Draziel's legs, but the dragon prince spun midair, his claws slashing down in a crescent arc that tore through the ground. Raizen backflipped, landing on all fours, tiger markings glowing fiercely.
They were no longer fighting as men, they were fighting as beasts of old.
Draziel roared, a sound that shook the arena, his voice layered with draconic resonance. Raizen answered with a roar of his own, echoing with the voice of the white tiger. Their combined cries sent flocks of birds scattering from miles away.
Raizen lunged forward, his claws aimed for Draziel's heart. Draziel caught his arm mid-strike, twisted, and slammed him into the ground with monstrous strength. Raizen kicked off the ground and retaliated with a punch to Draziel's ribs, sending the dragon prince flying across the arena.
They both skidded to a stop, panting, blood dripping from their lips, yet both smiling with that same wild, reckless grin.
Raizen smirked, wiping his chin. "I like you, dragon."
Draziel grinned back. "The feeling's mutual, tiger."
Their mana surged once more until both kings raised their hands.
"That's enough!" Kael'thar's voice thundered.
Dracovin stood as well, his aura briefly silencing the crowd. "Save that fire for when you're older."
Both princes, still panting, turned toward their fathers and bowed reluctantly. The arena fell silent… then erupted in applause.
It wasn't just a spar. It was a declaration.
From that day forward, the world knew,
When dragons and tigers clash, the heavens tremble
The colosseum had quieted. Dust hung thick in the air, sunlight filtering through the ruined roof and broken walls, illuminating the two young princes seated side by side on the shattered edge of the arena floor. Their bodies ached from the clash- cuts on their knuckles, bruises forming across their ribs yet both wore the same expression: the wide, satisfied grin of warriors who had finally found someone worth fighting.
The crowd had long dispersed, the kings and their escorts gone to continue the diplomatic meeting, but Draziel and Raizen remained, the silence between them not awkward, but heavy with mutual acknowledgment.
Raizen leaned back, resting his hands on the cracked stone behind him. "You're not bad, dragon," he said, his voice still hoarse from shouting. "Not bad at all."
Draziel chuckled, golden eyes glinting beneath the glow of the setting sun. "You talk too much for someone who got slammed into the ground."
Raizen barked a laugh, tossing a small rock at him. "And yet you're sitting here bleeding just as much as I am."
For a moment, they just laughed- two heirs of ancient bloodlines, too proud to yield, too young to understand the weight of the worlds resting on their shoulders. Then, Raizen's tone shifted slightly, his expression softening into something more curious.
"Hey," he said, "you ever heard of the Grand Arcane Academy?"
Draziel tilted his head. "The Grand Arcane Academy?" he echoed, frowning slightly. "I've heard of that place before… from my mother." He glanced up at the sky, eyes narrowing as if searching his memory. "It's that academy that gathers prodigies from all races across the earth realm, isn't it? The one where the saints themselves once studied."
Raizen nodded, pride flashing in his azure eyes. "That's the one. My old man says I'll be attending in five years' time. He wants me to showcase the might of the Velthar Dominion."
Draziel smirked, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "Showcase the might of the Velthar Dominion, huh?" he repeated, his tone teasing yet sharp. "Well, since you're going there to flaunt your strength, I might as well come too. Someone has to make sure the world remembers which kingdom stands above the rest."
Raizen looked at him, eyebrows raised before a grin broke across his face. "Confident, aren't you?"
"Always," Draziel replied smoothly, his voice dripping with that familiar arrogance that both infuriated and inspired everyone around him. "I am a dragon, after all. Pride and power are the very core of my existence."
Raizen laughed, shaking his head. "Then I guess we'll settle this properly at the academy."
"When do we go?" Draziel asked, his tone casual but his eyes gleaming with challenge.
"At twenty," Raizen said, pushing himself to his feet. "That's when the academy accepts heirs of noble bloodlines."
Draziel rose beside him, towering slightly over the beast prince. "Perfect," he said, brushing the dust off his shoulder. "That gives me five years, five long years to grow stronger, to surpass every limit I have." He turned toward Raizen, his grin widening. "When we meet there, tiger, I'll wipe the floor with you."
Raizen crossed his arms, the glow of his tiger markings faintly visible beneath his skin. "Big words, dragon. I'll remember them."
The two locked eyes once more, their grins reflecting the same untamable arrogance, the same hunger for battle, the same unspoken respect. The wind carried the faint scent of blood and ozone between them,the lingering aura of two beings born to shake the world.
And as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, its golden light glinting off their hair and eyes, the princes of dragon and tiger stood side by side- rivals, allies, brothers bound by pride.
Neither knew it yet, but their names would one day echo together through every realm under the heavens.
The Grand Arcane Academy stands at the very center of the earth realm, built upon the ruins of an ancient floating city said to have descended from the heavens after the mythical war. Its towers pierce the clouds, its bridges shimmer with runic light, and its vast courtyards are filled with mana streams that flow like rivers of pure energy. It is a place where all races meet as equals, an academy born from peace, not politics.
The academy was founded centuries after the Abyssal War by the combined efforts of the Holy Empire, the Amethystus Dynasty, the Velthar Dominion, and the Fairy and Elven domains, in honor of the fallen heroes who sealed the Abyss. Its purpose: to nurture the next generation of warriors, mages, scholars, and knights who would defend the earth realm from future threats.
Despite the many kingdoms that contributed to its creation, the Grand Arcane Academy belongs to no one nation. The council that governs it is made up of representatives from every race; humans, elves, beastmen, fairies, dragonians, and even a few beings of divine descent. Within its walls, lineage and status mean little; strength, talent, and wisdom are the only currencies that matter.
Students of noble birth and common origin share the same classrooms, eat at the same tables, and compete on the same battlefields. A commoner with potential can rise above royalty, and an heir without discipline can fall into disgrace. It is a melting pot of ambition, rivalry, and brilliance, a crucible that forges both heroes and emperors.
The academy itself is divided into three divisions:
The Arcane Division, for those who study elemental and divine magic.
The Martial Division, for combatants, knights, and weapon masters.
The Scholarly Division, for alchemists, artificers, and researchers of mana and ancient relics.
Rumors say that beneath the academy lies a sealed sanctum- a fragment of divine energy that predates the world itself. No one knows if it's true, but even the oldest instructors speak of it in hushed tones.
Every five years, the academy holds the Grand Selection, where candidates from across the realms gather to earn admission. It is said that when two prodigies of equal might cross paths within its halls, the academy itself trembles as if the world is watching history being written.