The clearing lay silent, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the faint hum of residual mana. Drakaryn stood tall, his body shimmering faintly as his scales reflected the sunlight breaking through the mangled canopy above. The Dragontongue still lingered on his tongue, its resonance vibrating through his core as he stared at his claws.
Medraut loomed before him, the black-scaled dragon's silver eyes narrowing as he watched Drakaryn's form shift. The faint shimmer surrounding Drakaryn grew more pronounced, his muscles coiling with newfound strength, his claws glinting like obsidian blades. With every syllable of Dragontongue, Drakaryn shaped his body into a weapon—his claws sharper, his limbs faster, his very presence suffused with the strength of raw mana.
The tension between the two dragons broke in an instant.
Drakaryn lunged forward, his enhanced muscles propelling him faster than Medraut could react. The black-scaled dragon raised his claws in a futile attempt to block the blow, but Drakaryn's swipe tore through his defenses. With a sickening crunch, Medraut's arm was severed at the shoulder, blood spraying in a crimson arc across the ruined clearing.
Medraut roared in pain, staggering backward, but Drakaryn was relentless. Pivoting mid-stride, he seized Medraut's wings with his claws, his grip like iron. Medraut struggled, his powerful muscles straining to break free, but Drakaryn's Dragontongue-fueled strength was unmatched. With a guttural growl, Drakaryn ripped the wings upward, the sound of tearing flesh and cracking bone echoing through the forest.
Large gashes opened along Medraut's back, the ragged wounds stretching from his shoulders to his tail as his wings were violently ripped from his body. Scales dangled from the mangled appendages as Drakaryn cast them aside, their lifeless forms thudding to the ground like discarded trophies.
Medraut collapsed to his knees, his breath ragged, his body trembling from shock and blood loss. But Drakaryn wasn't finished. In one fluid motion, he shaped his claws into a beak-like point, his reinforced talons glinting with deadly precision. With a powerful thrust, he drove his hand into Medraut's back, piercing through the jagged remnants of his spine and gripping the dragon's still-beating heart.
With a savage roar, Drakaryn ripped the heart free, its lifeblood spilling across the ground as Medraut's body convulsed. The black-scaled dragon's silver eyes blinked, dumbfounded, his mind struggling to comprehend what had transpired in less than a breath's time.
Drakaryn stepped back, his breath steady as he regarded Medraut's crumpled form. The once-dominant dragon lay motionless, his eyes still blinking in disbelief as life ebbed away. Drakaryn's gaze was calm, almost dispassionate, as he spoke the familiar phrase of Dragontongue that had become second nature to him.
The words carried a heavy finality, resonating through the clearing as Medraut's body began to disintegrate. The flesh, blood, and bone dissolved into clusters of glowing vitality orbs, their brilliance illuminating the desolate battlefield. Medraut didn't even draw his final breath before his entire being was reduced to the energy that had once fueled his existence.
Drakaryn reached out with a thought, sweeping the orbs into his storage space. A few large scales and fragments of bone remained untouched, their durability surpassing even the Dragontongue's transformation. With another thought, he collected these remnants, their faint shimmer joining the orbs in his growing repository.
As he turned his gaze toward the distant ridge, a flicker of irritation crossed his mind. The spectators—Tazerith and his band of followers—remained a threat, their presence a loose end he had no intention of leaving unresolved. Without hesitation, Drakaryn leapt into the air, his wings beating powerfully as he ascended.
Tazerith and his companions stood frozen in place, their expressions a mix of awe and horror. Even from several hundred meters away, the devastation of the battle was undeniable. Sylra and Grathor exchanged uneasy glances, their fear palpable, while the young blue-scaled dragon lay unconscious on the ground, a trickle of blood still seeping from his injured eye.
Drakaryn descended swiftly, his landing sending a shockwave through the ridge that knocked Sylra and Grathor to the ground. They scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide as Drakaryn loomed over them, his shimmering form radiating an aura of undeniable dominance.
"Curious," Drakaryn murmured, his voice low but clear. "You watched, but you did nothing."
Before they could respond, Drakaryn spoke again, his words cutting through the air with the weight of the Dragontongue. The phrase was deliberate, familiar, and final. The effect was instantaneous.
Sylra and Grathor dissolved into glowing vitality orbs, their bodies breaking apart as if they had never existed. The orbs hovered briefly before being swept into Drakaryn's storage space, their faint glow disappearing into the void. Drakaryn turned his gaze to the unconscious blue dragon, his expression unreadable.
With a final utterance of Dragontongue, the young dragon met the same fate as his companions, his form disintegrating into pure energy. The ridge fell silent, the only trace of their existence the faint shimmer of vitality now stored within Drakaryn's realm.
Drakaryn stood alone atop the ridge, his gaze drifting to the horizon. His body still shimmered faintly from the mana coursing through him, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
"Curious," he muttered, his claws flexing absently. "Medraut left behind scales and bones, yet these were entirely converted."
The inconsistency gnawed at his mind. Was it a matter of strength? Age? Perhaps the Dragontongue responded differently to dragons of greater power. Or perhaps there was something else—something deeper—that dictated what was left behind.
Drakaryn spread his wings, the wind tugging at his opalescent scales as he prepared to leave. Questions lingered in his mind, but for now, the answers could wait. He had eliminated his immediate threats, secured his territory, and replenished his vitality.
The horizon beckoned, vast and full of possibilities. Drakaryn ascended into the sky, his thoughts already turning to his next discovery.