Dragons.
After the fall of the gods at the hands of the Twelve Clans during Ragnarök, dragons were hailed as the strongest race, respected and feared across Welhemheim.
Known as Mana Beings, they possessed an unlimited mana pool, granting them the ability to wield magic beyond the realm's limits. Their power was so immense that they could alter the core principles of Welhemheim itself.
Dragons ruled both the skies and the lands, becoming the undisputed overlords of the realm.
Yet, in the present day, their existence is only recalled through stories and legends.
They vanished Like they never existed in the first place. The far century's gap, the part of history which is still left unrecorded, unpassed down is still a mystery to today's world.
And what followed was the gradual collapse of the twelve clans that had once fought in Ragnarök, marking the end of their era.
This turbulent period, spanning a century after Ragnarök, came to be known as the Arc of Wrath.
Though dragons were no longer active, their legacy, a filial race managed to survive the Arc of Wrath.
The Dragonkin.
Dragonkin, born as half-dragon and half-humanoid, bear humanoid appearances while retaining the immense physical strength of their ancestors.
Though their might and potential was nothing before that of Dragon's, they were still regarded as the second-strongest race.
They rose to prominence in the aftermath of the Arc of Wrath. Coming together, they formed The Empire, a nation open to all species.
If you have Talent and merit you will be given your rightful opportunity and by this way of thinking, they turned the Empire into the most powerful force on the Mainland Continent.
To this day, it holds unparalleled influence.
Before a grand, luxurious door stood a young-looking woman. Clain Bartan, A Dragankin and the only assistant of Emperor Levarano III, adjusted her stance a little.
The room before her belonged to none other than the ruler of the Empire himself.
With two quick knocks, her clear voice rang out,
"Are you awake?"
"Yes,"
Came a rather low, gruff reply, far from the usual cheerful and teasy tone she was familiar with.
Without hesitation, Clain opened the door and stepped inside.
Clain quickly followed her duty, pouring the coffee into a pristine white, luxurious glass. She placed it carefully in front of the man still sitting on the bed.
He was undeniably handsome. His long hair framed his sharp features, and the air around him carried the weight of a ruler's presence.
Yet, trying to appear casual, he spoke, "Thank you, Clain," and began sipping his coffee as if it were just another ordinary day.
But Clain, his childhood friend who had been with him for centuries, wasn't so easily fooled. She could always tell when something wasn't quite right with him. Today was no exception.
Her sharp eyes narrowed as she studied him.
Was he nervous?
Trembling?
No, that couldn't be it.
'Maybe he's just excited about something,' she thought. 'There's no way this man, who didn't even flinch before the oppressing presence of the Elders in his young age at that, there is literally nothing that could make him scared now,'
Her expression remained unfazed, calm as she wondered for what was really troubling him.
"So, you noticed, huh?" he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. His gaze stayed fixed on his coffee.
Just as she could read him, he could read her too. Despite her carefully maintained composure, they have been together for centuries now she was like an open book to him.
"Why don't you tell me then? What do you think is bothering me?"
He glanced at her briefly before returning his attention to the coffee.
"The Twelve Clans," he said.
"The ones from Ragnarök?" she asked. "What about them? They've already fallen, haven't they?"
"Not all of them."
"You mean the Volfords?"
"Yes."
Clain let out a laugh, breaking her previously tense demeanour. The idea of the mighty emperor being troubled by something so insignificant was really absurd to her.
"What's there to worry about? The Volfords are done for. Their influence has shrunk to the point they're just one of the three great families of the human nation. Which itself is an insignificant nation,"
She said with a small shrug. "Besides, if a war does break out, then they would soon be joining the other two clans,"
But her laughter did nothing to lighten his expression.
He set the coffee aside, stood up, and walked toward the open window. The cool breeze ruffled his hair as his cold eyes looked out at the horizon.
"You don't understand," he said, his voice calm but still unsettling. "My bloodline... it's screaming. Crying. Trembling with fear."
He chuckled coldly at his own words, a sound that sent a chill down her spine.
"What? What's happening to you, Levarano? Tell me!"
Her confidence cracked, and her face betrayed genuine concern.
The idea of this man, the strongest being she had ever known, being afraid made no sense.
Which says a quite lot cause she has been alive for more than a century.
She rushed to him, her anxious steps betraying her usual calm, but he didn't turn to face her. Instead, he raised a hand and pointed out the window.
"See that?" he asked. "The Mosaic Kingdom lies just beyond, doesn't it?"
"Yes?" she replied hesitantly.
His cold laugh grew louder. "By the end of today, it'll be wiped out. Every last one of them."
"What?" she gasped. "You're not making any sense!"
"It's not me who's not making sense," he said, his voice dropping as his cold gaze sharpened. "It's those flying dragons wearing Volford's flag that aren't."
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿
Ado raised his weapon, now more like a sword than a dagger, ready to slice through Claire's neck.
He had been ordered to bring her alive.
But she had pushed him too far now, it was frustrating and he was angered beyond reason. He no longer cared about the damn commission.
He just wanted to kill her.
Or maybe more than that he wanted to break the arrogance of this type of prideful woman.
What expression will they make?
It was fun...
Ado glanced at Claire's face. She was struggling, tears forming at the corners of her eyes from the suffocation of his aura.
A smirk curled on his lips. Without wasting another moment, he slashed down at her neck.
But—
Before the blade could land, just five centimetres away from her neck, a massive punch struck him, sending him flying straight to the opposite wall with a loud thud!
"Fuck," Ado muttered, standing up while tilting his head and brushing the dirt off his clothes. His sharp eyes fixed on the new figure who had joined the fight.
A giant green ogre.
And beside him stood the same crippled porter he had dismissed earlier, the one who had now lit a cigarette so casually.
"Master?"
Claire's voice was weak but her eyes glowed up a little, as she tried to stand again, something unusual than her regular demeanour.
"Why are you here?"
"How could I leave you?" Arthur said with a small smile, 'Not after investing so much money and life force,' Arthur thought in lowkey.
Claire froze for a moment at his words. She was just a summon, something easily replaceable for Arthur.
If she died here, he could simply summon another. And yet—
Before she could say anything, the sound of slow, heavy footsteps made her turn.
It was Ado.
He was walking toward them, his face twisted in frustration and irritation. The flames on his weapon burned brighter than ever, intense rage evident from those.
The pressure of his aura grew so intense that Claire could feel herself bending under its weight.
Her jaw clenched, and she turned to Arthur, with urgency in her voice. "Master, please run! I will buy time for you,"