Caesar summoned all his followers for the first time. Most of the monstrous attendants were beholding their magnificent master, an unmatched powerful Red Dragon, with growing devotion and fanaticism in their eyes. A dragon's reputation echoed through the multiverse, with countless legends surrounding even their youngest, enticing many a creature to follow.
The more formidable the dragon, the more numerous its followers, who would often pledge their loyalty unbidden. Ancient dragons ruled domains where high-ranking Magical Creatures vied for the honor of serving them. The rationale was simple: they knew that by becoming a dragon's attendant, their own power and potential would rise alongside their master's over time, possibly even ascending to the ranks of legendary beings.
However, Caesar's earliest subordinates harbored doubts. When they first followed him, his length was merely twelve meters, yet he had now grown beyond eighteen meters—a rate unheard of. Eventually, they decided to set aside their inquisitive minds; having served many masters before, they solely wished for this mighty dragon to endure.
For the assembled throng of monstrous legions, Caesar could only offer a succinct assessment: a rabble.
He recalled the coordinated prowess of human legions he had witnessed raiding a female Red Dragon's lair—forces dispatched by the Silvermoon Kingdom and the Morningstar Kingdom. Had it not been for the leniency of several Metallic Dragons, that female Red Dragon might have faced a fate worse than a beleaguered escape. Dragonslayers were not entirely the stuff of bluster; such was the expertise of human legions in dragonic warfare.
Even benevolent Metallic Dragons would expel malefic counterparts but would never aid humans in dragon-slaying, strictly forbidding it. To them, dragon disputes were to be resolved without bloodshed; pillaging, assaulting, or enslaving were reven on tactics, but kin-slaying was abhorrent in their culture.
Those lenient Metallic Dragons had spared the female Red Dragon but were indifferent to her monstrous legion—a formidable army in its own right. Yet, humans' extraordinary discipline and the sheer size of their forces ensured the monsters' annihilation with little loss on their own side—a testament to the strategic acumen of a sapient race.
Still, Caesar thought, the monsters would present a significant annoyance to any adversary.
His gaze was merciless and cold. To the Red Dragons, attendants were but disposable commodities—never lamented and easily replaced.
He glanced towards Sylvana, the soon-to-be-advanced lifeform, awakening from her stupor thanks to Diana's healing arts—nearly fully recovered and consciousness steadily resurfacing.
With her at his side—a top-tier enchanter and Sixth-Ring magical practitioner with the bloodline of a legendary Serpent King—her battlefield worth would match that of an adult dragon.
Then, with a mighty flap of his wings, Caesar launched into the air and descended with crushing force upon the Amethyst Serpent, exhibiting the tremendous might characteristic of his kind. "Sylvana," he pronounced with an imperious calm, "yield to me!"
He had neither the time nor the inclination for subtle games of allegiance. Dominance was the Red Dragon's strength, and with his might, he exerted his will.
At his words, the once formidable and confident Serpent King's visage wilted, crushed by a strength she could not hope to match. "What are you precisely?" she questioned weakly, "A Red Dragon? A Gold Dragon? Or some other unique breed? Your growth... it's terrifying..."
Having bested a Green Dragon of equal standing and nearing the rank of a high-tier lifeform, her defeat by a younger dragon struck a crushing blow to her pride.
Caesar offered no answers, just a relentless stare, "You've felt the inescapable gulf between our powers. Should I truly exert my full might—even ascended, you would face but one fate: death."
The sun's rays upon him turned his scales a radiant gold, giving rise to the occasional mistake of his identity.
Feeling the destructive elemental might whirling within him, Sylvana ultimately bowed her noble head, conceding to the fearsome power, to the dragon's inherent majesty.
With no words or further struggle, the proud Serpent King submitted to the Red Dragon's unyielding decree, "My Lord Caesar, henceforth, I am yours—a loyal companion, heeding every command, until time's very end."
Her scaly form ceased to resist, tenderly encircling the mighty dragon in a gesture reserved only for a favored partner. Their scales whispered together—the mingling of two formidable beings.
Satisfied, Caesar entwined his tail with hers, a testament to his approval of her as companion and potential mother of mighty dragonkin. Serpentkind—rare, intelligent, and magically endowed—were born to kings and queens alike. Their scarcity and strength, coupled with an excessively gentle birthing cycle, constrained their numbers, even as their lifespan rivaled the very elves.
But as a dragon's mate, she promised a legacy of power and prestige, the birthright of their future progeny.