The sky above Dracarys burned with war.
Dravenith and Sylvaris descended upon the city, their wings slicing through the wind as they approached the towering fortress.
From below, cannons roared, releasing anti-dragon magic shells that crackled with lethal energy.
Dravenith weaved between them, his reflexes razor-sharp, but there were too many.
"Faster!" he roared.
Sylvaris, flying beside him, smirked. "Hold on, Dravenith."
She twisted her body, summoning a swirling vortex of leviathan water magic.
A jet of pressurized water shot beneath Dravenith, boosting his speed just as another volley of cannon fire exploded behind him.
Dravenith grinned. "Not bad."
Sylvaris flipped midair. "I'm always perfect."
The city of Dracarys came into view—Vaelthia's prison tower at its heart.
The battle began.
Dravenith landed first, unleashing a torrent of fire upon the nearest fortifications.
The Dracarys soldiers retaliated instantly.
Waves of anti-dragon magic arrows rained from the sky.
Dravenith dodged, weaving through the hailstorm of deadly spells—
Until—
A single shot broke through.
A blast of cursed energy struck him in the chest.
Pain exploded through his body. His wings locked up.
He was falling.
But then—
Sylvaris moved.
In an instant, she was between him and the ground.
The next blast—**one meant for him—**hit her instead.
The impact was devastating.
Her human form shattered.
And in her place, a leviathan emerged.
Her serpentine body coiled in the air, glowing with celestial energy, her majestic form towering over the battlefield.
Dravenith landed hard, gasping as he turned to her.
Sylvaris was smiling despite the massive wound across her chest.
Her scales—once unbreakable—were cracking.
Her voice was weak but clear.
"I love you."
Dravenith froze.
Sylvaris collapsed.
The ground shook beneath her weight.
For the first time in his life—Dravenith felt powerless.
Then—
He remembered.
Dravenith clenched his fists.
His body shook.
His mind burned.
And then—
Something awoke inside him.
His voice was no longer his own.
It was his instinct.
"Let the Hunt Begin."
His muscles expanded.
His eyes turned crimson.
His body grew larger, his claws elongating into jagged weapons.
His wings darkened.
Bloodlust took him.
His roar shook the world.
Flashback – Ignilth's Humiliation
Dravenith had been young, just a child, when he first witnessed his father bowing.
Before him stood Duke Wulfric Dracarys, a man who had built his empire on the blood of dragons.
And Ignilth—the mighty dragon king—was kneeling.
"Cancel the Dragon Hunting Ceremony," Ignilth had begged.
The nobles laughed.
Wulfric leaned in, his voice mocking.
"You dragons think you are gods. But look at you."
He kicked Ignilth's head.
Ignilth took it.
Because if he didn't, more dragons would die.
Present
Miles away, Ryle and Thea were already flying toward Dracarys.
Then they heard it.
A roar—deep, ancient, filled with wrath.
Ryle's eyes narrowed.
"That's…"
Thea gasped. "Ignilth?"
Ryle's expression darkened. "No."
"That's Dravenith."
He grabbed Thea's hand. "Hold on. We're going faster."
Thea barely had time to scream before Ryle tripled their speed.
Dravenith was a storm of destruction.
The soldiers of Dracarys had no chance.
He tore through them like a demon of vengeance.
But—
There was a flaw.
Anti-dragon magic was stacking against him.
It didn't matter how strong he was—
He was still a dragon.
And then—
A fist slammed into the side of his head.
Dravenith collapsed.
Standing over him—was Ryle.
"Enough."
Dravenith's bloodthirsty gaze met Ryle's.
For a moment, it seemed like he would attack.
Then—
Ryle brought his fist down again, knocking him unconscious.
The bloodlust faded.
Ryle exhaled.
"Dumbass."
Then—he turned to the city walls.
Ryle—Entering the Battle
Ryle's body began to change.
His black wings spread.
His golden eyes glowed.
His purple claws cracked with power.
The soldiers of Dracarys turned their weapons on him.
"Fire!"
The anti-dragon cannons unleashed their magic.
But—
It did nothing.
Because Ryle wasn't a dragon.
He was human.
And anti-dragon magic was useless against him.
"Bad luck for you." Ryle smirked.
Then—he moved.
The city walls exploded as he tore through them.
Dracarys soldiers screamed.
He found Vaelthia, still trapped in her prison.
The guards saw him.
They didn't even have time to react.
Ryle ripped the cage open.
Vaelthia gasped, eyes wide. "Ryle?"
He grinned. "I'll handle the rest. Thea, take her."
Ryle Land beside Thea. "Are you insane?!"
Ryle didn't answer.
He was already walking toward the castle.
At the gates—Xander Dracarys stood waiting.
The two locked eyes.
The battle was about to begin.