In the heart of a dense, misty cave surrounded by towering cliffs and lush greenery, Drake trained relentlessly. For months, he had dedicated himself to honing his martial arts and swordsmanship, his rugged physique bearing the marks of grueling practice. The sounds of his training echoed through the cave as he practiced swift sword strikes, precise punches, and evasive movements. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he ended his final session for the day, letting out a deep sigh.
Feeling the ache in his muscles, Drake made his way toward a nearby flowing river. The water sparkled under the faint light peeking through the dense canopy above. Sitting on a smooth rock, he prepared his fishing hook with a live worm he'd found earlier. He hurled the hook into the river, the soft plop breaking the serene silence. Minutes passed, and with a sharp tug, he pulled out his first catch—a sleek silver fish, its scales glistening in the light.
"One down, one more to go," he muttered with a grin. Another cast, another tug, and soon, he held two fish in his hands. Drake whistled softly to himself as he carried them back to the cave, his calloused hands gripping his prize.
Inside the cave, the dim glow of a small fire flickered against the rugged stone walls. Drake worked with practiced precision, gutting and cleaning the fish by the river using a sharp, well-worn blade. He removed the scales carefully, ensuring every cut was perfect. From his modest stash of herbs and spices, he sprinkled a mixture onto the fish, the aroma filling the air. Using thin, flat sticks he'd fashioned himself, Drake skewered the fish and placed them over the fire.
The flames crackled softly, casting warm shadows across the cave as the fish sizzled. He flipped them with care, ensuring they were cooked evenly, the skin turning golden and crisp. Once done, he removed them from the fire, placed them on a simple wooden plate he'd carved during his time in solitude, and admired his handiwork.
As he sat cross-legged near the fire, Drake muttered, "A decent meal after a day's grind… Thank the gods for this." He reached for his tea kettle, intending to brew a fresh pot, but the fire in front of him suddenly extinguished.
The abrupt darkness startled him. He froze, his gaze darting around the cave, every muscle in his body tense. The air turned unnaturally cold, and his instincts screamed that something was off. After a moment, he lit the fire again, his hands trembling slightly as he placed his tea kettle back on. The flames roared back to life, and he exhaled, shaking his head.
"Must be the wind," he muttered to himself, taking a bite of his fish.
Far away in the New World, the Shadow Council gathered in their ominous chamber. The dark room was filled with an eerie silence, only broken by the faint hum of Jiangshi's spinning compass floating above the table. The Shadow Council members sat in their respective seats, their expressions unreadable.
Jiangshi's voice, cold and deliberate, broke the silence. "Greyjoy has fallen."
A sigh escaped him as he leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers. "I will retrieve him and his pieces myself."
Lei Gong, seated nearby, raised his hand slightly. "Allow me to accompany you, Lord Jiangshi."
Jiangshi regarded him for a moment, then nodded. "Very well."
A glowing compass manifested in the air before Jiangshi and Lei Gong. The room darkened further as the energy from the compass surged, its lines and symbols glowing with ancient power. Without another word, the two figures vanished into the void, leaving the rest of the council behind in tense silence.
Back in his cave, Drake had finished his meal. Stretching his arms, he let out a loud yawn, his rugged demeanor softened by the peaceful moment. "Not bad… Could use some tea, though," he joked to himself. He stood up, brushing off his hands, and stared at the flickering fire.
"I need to get back to training," he muttered, a hint of determination in his voice. As he paced around the cave, his thoughts turned to his father. "When I go back to the Free World, he'll see me. Even if it's just for a moment… I'll prove to him I'm not a disgrace."
But before he could finish his thought, his vision blurred. A sharp pain coursed through his head, and his legs gave out. He collapsed to the cave floor, unconscious.
Suddenly, Drake found himself in an otherworldly realm. The cave was gone, replaced by an enormous temple surrounded by a thousand dragons flying through the air. The sky above swirled with fiery reds and molten golds, casting an ethereal glow on the temple's massive stone pillars.
From the distance, a figure emerged, walking toward him with steady, deliberate steps. The figure's voice echoed, deep and commanding, "D…R…A…K…E…"
It was his father, Shenlog, clad in his majestic dragon armor. His presence was overwhelming, yet comforting. Before Drake could respond, the vision began to blur, and the thousand dragons roared in unison. He was violently pulled back into reality.
Drake gasped as he regained consciousness, his body drenched in sweat. But something was wrong—his body felt like it was on fire. Flames erupted from his skin, enveloping him in a fiery aura. The heat was unbearable, his screams echoing through the cave as he stumbled toward the river outside.
Without thinking, Drake dived into the cold waters, steam erupting around him as the flames battled against the water. His screams slowly faded into heavy breaths as he floated in the river, his body simmering.
From the riverbank, Drake looked at his reflection in the water. His eyes burned with a fiery intensity he'd never seen before. Something within him had awakened.