Zuka stood before the mirror, adjusting the white and gold shozoku that clung to his frame like a second skin. Forgoing the bulk of traditional armor, his attire was designed for fluidity and speed—an embodiment of Dragonoid grace and lethality. He slid his katana into the sheath at his side, its pristine blade humming faintly, as if in anticipation of the battles ahead. His gauntlets, forged from the scales of his ancestors, shimmered in the dim light, their ancient runes hinting at secrets untold.
Outside, Licth waited in silence, his calm demeanor masking an undercurrent of concern. As Zuka emerged, their gazes met briefly—an unspoken acknowledgment of the stakes before them. Together, they moved to meet King Yogan, who stood at the forefront of the Dragonoid forces.
The soldiers—battle-hardened, their armor glinting in the fading light—formed a formidable line. Their expressions bore the resolve of warriors marching toward destiny, fully aware of the dangers that awaited them.
Yogan turned as Zuka approached, his presence radiating authority. In his hands, he held a katana with an ornate hilt and a pair of gauntlets etched with glowing runes. "Here," Yogan said, extending the gifts to his son. "This blade, forged from the bones of our fallen comrades, has witnessed countless battles. Let it guide your hand. These gauntlets, a reminder that even the lightest touch, when wielded with purpose, can leave an indelible mark. Their true power will reveal itself when the time is right."
Zuka accepted the items with a solemn nod. "I will not fail," he said, his voice steady.
Yogan's eyes softened briefly before he turned to address the gathered warriors. His voice rang out with unwavering strength.
"Brothers, sisters—today, we march into the unknown. What lies ahead may very well claim our lives. But I would not lead you into danger if this mission did not threaten the very fabric of existence. We are the blood of the Great Dragons, the descendants of Shiro himself. It is our sacred duty to protect this haven, this world, from forces that seek to destroy it.
"We do not cower. We do not flee. We face the storm with unshakable resolve. If this is our end, we meet it with pride. Let the gods witness our courage and tremble before the strength of Dragonoid will!"
The warriors roared, their cries a thunderous affirmation of their unity and valor.
Licth stepped forward, his hand raised as a shimmering portal appeared before them. The gateway shimmered like liquid light, pulsating with faint energy. "This portal will take you outside the gates of Solis Imperium," he said. "I cannot accompany you beyond this point. My duty lies here."
"Thank you, Licth," Zuka said, his voice resolute. With one last glance at the Dragonoid capital, Yogan stepped into the portal, leading his warriors into the unknown.
The moment they emerged from the portal, the air changed. A suffocating aura pressed against their chests, heavy and relentless. It was as though the forest itself sought to repel them. The energy crackling through the air felt alive, probing their defenses, seeking to unravel their resolve.
Yogan exchanged a grim look with Zuka before signaling for the group to move. Silently, they pushed forward, each step bringing them deeper into the oppressive gloom. The forest was ancient and foreboding, its pale, skeletal trees stretching skyward like gnarled fingers. Shadows danced unnaturally, twisting and coiling as if alive.
The silence was deafening—no rustle of leaves, no chirping of birds. It was a void, a space where life dared not dwell. Every step felt heavier, every breath more labored as though the forest itself sought to crush their spirits.
After what felt like an eternity, the tomb loomed before them. The monolithic structure exuded malice, its dark stone walls etched with glowing sigils that pulsed like a heartbeat. The aura of death radiating from it was palpable, seeping into their very bones.
A sudden, ear-splitting screech shattered the stillness. Zuka's hand flew to his katana as dozens of winged figures erupted from the tomb, their grotesque forms hurtling toward the group with terrifying speed.
The creatures were abominations—skeletal, with jagged wings and twisted horns. Their forms flickered with dark energy, their glowing sigils a mockery of life. They struck like a hurricane, their raw power overwhelming the Dragonoid soldiers.
The Dragonoid warriors fought valiantly, their blades and magic tearing through the creatures with fierce precision. But for every foe slain, three more emerged. The creatures fought like reflections, each one a distorted, stronger version of the Dragonoids themselves.
Zuka moved like a tempest, his katana slicing through the air with deadly grace. Beside him, Yogan unleashed his full power. "Sun Magic: Sun God Amaterasu!" he roared. Miniature suns materialized around him, their intense heat incinerating everything in their path. Cracks formed along his body, magma seeping through as his power reached its zenith.
Still, it was not enough. The darkness seemed endless, an unrelenting tide of death.
Then, Yogan froze. His eyes widened as a distant sensation gripped him—a warning from the All-Seeing Eye. Fire. Destruction. Death. The vision was clear and undeniable.
"Zuka!" Yogan bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. "We must return! Now!"
Zuka hesitated, his katana mid-swing. "But Father—"
"No arguments!" Yogan's tone was sharp, his urgency undeniable. "The capital is in danger. We leave immediately!"
Yogan unleashed one final attack, blasting a path through the swarm. Without another word, he and Zuka turned, their movements a blur as they accelerated to full speed.
The world around them dissolved into streaks of light and shadow, the oppressive forest blurring into a whirlwind of shapes and colors. Their feet struck the ground with such force that the earth cracked beneath them, each step sending shockwaves rippling outward. The air roared in their ears, a cacophony of sound that rose and fell with every heartbeat.
Zuka's body surged forward, lightning arcing from his frame as his velocity tore through the natural world. Trees bent and splintered in their wake, their branches snapping from the force of their passing. Leaves and debris erupted into a chaotic vortex, marking their impossible journey.
The sound of their speed was deafening—a series of thunderclaps that echoed through the forest like a divine storm. The very air seemed to scream in protest, torn apart by their relentless pace.
They were faster than the wind, faster than thought, faster than the storm that followed in their wake. Every step was a testament to their power, a reminder that they were the descendants of gods.
After what felt like an eternity compressed into mere moments, the oppressive aura of the forest began to fade. Ahead, the towering spires of Draekoria's capital came into view, their faint glow a beacon in the night.
Yogan and Zuka slowed, their deceleration rippling through the air with a final burst of energy. They stopped just outside the city gates, their breathing steady despite the immense power they had exerted.
"We made it," Zuka said, his voice heavy with relief. "But what could have happened to warrant abandoning the mission?"
Yogan's gaze turned toward the palace, his expression grim. "Something far worse than what we left behind." Without another word, they strode into the city, the weight of their duty heavier than ever.