In the city newly christened as the Dragon City by Drake, a pall of silence had fallen. Civilians preparing to flee stood petrified, their faces ashen as they clutched their belongings, immobilized by the dragon's stark proclamation that all who fled would die. Children's cries cut through the eerie quiet, quickly muffled by parents terrified of drawing attention.
Mercenaries in the city were equally dumbstruck, unsure whether to run or stay. Accustomed to living on the edge, these hardened souls would normally take no heed of such threats, but the voice that had issued the command belonged to a demi-god dragon, causing even them to hesitate.
The quickest to react were the city guards, already not the cream of the crop, with the true elite having been led to their doom by the Grand Marshal of the Holy Fleurs-de-lis Knights in a failed campaign against the elves. Upon hearing Drake's mandate, these soldiers, lacking the resolve for resistance, dared not flee.
Dragon City, formerly Central City, was strategically located at the crossroads of several races: elves to the south, the joint human-orc kingdom to the east, and the empire and church to the west. The nearest city in any direction lay far away, with danger lurking along every path. To attempt escape through the surrounding mountains and forests without formidable powers was to court death.
The city's formidable defenses had made it near-impregnable, boasting robust magic barriers and challenging terrain. Unless a full-scale war was underway, the city was considered virtually unassailable – until a primordial dragon, a demi-god no less, effortlessly breached its defenses. The church was likely only now receiving word of the catastrophe.
To the church, ordinary dragons were a manageable threat, and they could stand firm against a demi-god with considerable effort. But against a demi-god dragon? Such an entity was almost the pinnacle of power, second only to the gods themselves. The church could only sigh at the prospect and devise a long-term strategy. For even if they eventually triumphed over the dragon, the church's foundations would be decimated. And in a position of weakened power and diminished prestige, internal human conflicts could prove more dangerous than external threats.
Unaware of these political intricacies, Drake circled above the city. Observing the fear-driven compliance of most and some soldiers turning traitor to corral civilians back to their charred homes, he nodded in satisfaction. Regret over the damage was moot now; he had to salvage what remained.
'Yet not all news is bad. Surely my display of power will give other nations and powers pause before they consider crossing me,' Drake reassured himself. He still had divine power in reserve, so he wasn't entirely defenseless. What he needed was time to grow stronger.
According to AI's indications, if he could harness enough energy to achieve his true form, combined with the godly core he'd 'stumbled upon,' Drake had the ambitious goal of ascending to true godhood.
But that was a consideration for later. For now, Drake had to establish a foothold in this world.
With another beat of his wings, he returned to the palatial cathedral perched at the city's summit. His body shrank until he retook the fledgling dragon form, conserving his divine power for times of need.
Content in his new opulent lair, Drake was suddenly struck by an instinctual tremor—a whiff of treasure.
Excitedly following the scent, Drake found the cathedral's hidden treasure trove without much effort—perhaps a testament to a dragon's innate gifts.
'Treasures, I have arrived.'
Whether as a dragon or human, riches always possessed an allure, and Drake's enthusiasm for his spoils of war burned fiercely.