The rhythmic crunch of armored boots echoed along the stone path as King Saul led his generals through the dimly lit corridor of his war tent. The Black Dragon—ruler of the greatest empire the world had ever known—walked with the measured pace of a man who bore the weight of fate itself. His piercing blue eyes, cold as the northern seas, swept over his commanders, their hardened faces awaiting his words.

"Twenty years ago," Saul began, his voice low yet commanding, "a kingdom vanished in a single night."

The generals exchanged glances. They had all heard the whispers, but none had dared to speak of Banglader's fate in the king's presence.

"A vassal state of our empire," Saul continued, "reduced to nothing but corpses—thousands dead, their faces frozen in silent horror. No battle. No survivors. No signs of an enemy. Just death." He exhaled slowly, his breath heavy with old memories. "We searched for answers, sent our finest scholars and mystics. And do you know what they found?"

Silence. The generals did not dare to interrupt.

"Nothing. Nothing of this world, at least," Saul said grimly. "And last year, a prophecy reached my ears. A warning that whatever erased Banglader is not finished." He came to a halt, turning to face them. "It comes for the entire world."

The wind outside howled as if nature itself recoiled at his words. Saul lifted a gauntleted hand, gesturing to the towering warrior beside him.

"That is why I ride to Banglader's ruins. And I take only the best." His gaze fell upon Watford, the man known as the strongest in the world. "This man has felled dragons, broken armies, humbled kings, killed gods, He will stand at my side."

Watford, clad in gold armor that gleamed even in the dim light, dipped his head in silent acknowledgment. His piercing eyes, sharp as the blade at his hip, remained fixed on the distance. Always watching. Always ready.

Saul turned back to his generals. "Three hundred warriors. No more. This is not a campaign. This is a reckoning. If Banglader's fate awaits us all, I will not sit on my throne and wait for it to come knocking." He stepped forward, lowering his voice. "I will face it first. And I will know its name."

Without another word, the Black Dragon strode forward, his soldiers falling into step behind him, marching toward an answer that had eluded the world for two decades.

--

Only one person knew of his departure: his pregnant wife, Queen Amelia, who carried their second child within her. As the king ventured into the treacherous landscape of Banglader, he was aware that even the bravest warriors avoided this place. But he pressed on, driven by his determination to protect his empire, his people, and the world at large.

The Banglader landscape was dry and

barren. Rocks jutted out of the ground

like broken bones. The sky was a deep,

foreboding grey. The air was silent

and eerie, like the land was waiting for

something to happen.

The barren landscape eventually revealed

a hidden cave, sealed with ancient magic.

Cryptic writings etched into the cave walls

foretold:

"The Shadow descends, darkness spreads,"

'Worlds collide, realms shatter,

"The Devourer comes, none shall remain,"

"The Necromancer's wrath leaves no

prisoners,"

"I am the last of my kind."

"Everyone has been killed. I have been

here for over five years. I will die soon. If

you are seeing this, prepare for war. The

Necromancer is coming back."

King Saul's warriors exchanged uneasy

glances as the weight of the prophecy sank

in.

As King Saul and his men ventured deeper into the cave, the air grew thick with an eerie, unsettling energy. The cryptic writings on the walls seemed to sear themselves into their minds, leaving an indelible mark.

"The Shadow descends, darkness spreads."

"The Devourer comes, none shall remain."

The words echoed in King Saul's mind, sending shivers down his spine. He could feel the weight of the prophecy bearing down upon him, the burden of responsibility settling heavy on his shoulders.

Watford, ever the stalwart companion, stood by King Saul's side, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of danger. The other warriors fanned out, their eyes casting flickering shadows on the walls.

As they pressed on, the writings grew more frequent, more urgent. The words seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy, as if they were alive, watching, and waiting.

"I am the last of my kind."

"Everyone has been killed. I have been here for over forty years. I will die soon."

The final message was scrawled on the wall in a handwriting that seemed frantic, desperate.

"If you are seeing this, prepare for war. The Necromancer is coming back."

King Saul's heart sank, his mind reeling with the implications. The Necromancer? A being of dark legend, feared throughout the land for its mastery of death and the underworld.

What did it mean? And what lay ahead for the world?

King Saul led the way, his piercing blue eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of danger. Behind him, Watford walked with his usual stoic demeanor, his golden armor gleaming faintly in the torchlight.

Richard, ever the joker, broke the silence with a grin. "You know," he said, his voice echoing through the cavern, "if the Necromancer's really coming back, he should be scared of us. I mean, we've got a Red Dragon, a Black Dragon, and the strongest man in the world. What's he got? A bunch of skeletons?"

The warriors chuckled, the tension easing slightly. Even King Saul couldn't help but crack a small smile. Richard's humor was a welcome relief, a reminder that they were more than just soldiers—they were a family, bound by years of shared battles and camaraderie.

But the laughter didn't last long. As they ventured deeper into the cave, the air grew colder, the shadows darker. The cryptic writings on the walls seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy, their words searing themselves into their minds.

"The Shadow descends, darkness spreads."

"The Devourer comes, none shall remain."

Richard's grin faded as he read the words, his usual bravado replaced by a rare moment of seriousness. "Well," he said quietly, "that's… cheerful."

Watford glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "You wanted the Necromancer to be scared of you. Maybe you should be careful what you wish for."

Richard smirked, but there was no humor in it this time. "Yeah, well, even if he's a legendary figure, shouldn't he be scared of a Red Dragon?" His tone was laced with sarcasm, but the unease in his eyes was unmistakable.

One of the warriors, a grizzled veteran named Sir Schweinsteiger, couldn't resist chiming in. "Is it the Red Dragon that lost to a duel against me?"

Richard's smirk widened, his confidence returning. "I let you win, of course. You wanted to give me your daughter. I'm a gentleman, after all. Can't defeat my future father-in-law, can I?"

The group erupted into laughter, the sound echoing through the cavern. Even Sir Schweinsteiger couldn't keep a straight face. "Yes, he let me win!" he deadpanned, his voice dripping with irony.

For a moment, the tension was forgotten, the cave filled with the sound of their laughter. But as the echoes faded, the weight of the prophecy settled over them once more. King Saul shook his head, his expression somber. "Let's proceed with caution. We don't know what we're up against, but we'll face it together"

As they pressed on, their footsteps echoed through the cave, a symphony of steel and determination. They were the strongest of the strong, the cream of the crop, and they knew that together, they could overcome any obstacle.

As King Saul ventured deeper into the foreboding cave, the echoes of dripping water and his soldiers' measured steps seemed to amplify the silence that had fallen around him. His expression was stoic as always, but inside, a tempest brewed.

His mind drifted, unbidden, to Queen Amelia—his wife, his confidant, his rock in the turbulent sea of kingship. She was carrying their second child, a blessing they had prayed for after fifteen years. He could still recall the day she told him.

It had been one of the few moments of peace they shared in the royal gardens. Her face, usually cool and composed, had softened with a rare smile. She took his hand, lacing her fingers through his, and whispered, "I'm with child, Saul."

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his burdens seemed to lift. The sheer joy in her voice was like sunlight piercing through storm clouds. They had been gifted another chance to expand their family, a miracle in these dark and uncertain times.

But now, as he trudged through this cold, unwelcoming abyss, that joy was tainted by guilt and worry. He had left her, left her when her time was so near. All he knew was that she might have already given birth—or worse, something might have gone terribly wrong.

And Lancelot… his firstborn son, "The Blue Dragon." At only fifteen, Lancelot was already a genius, a prodigy rarely seen in a generation. His swordsmanship was unmatched by even seasoned knights, and his strategic mind was lauded by advisors twice his age. Yet, for all his brilliance and strength, Saul couldn't shake the image of his son standing alone, trying to shoulder the responsibility of caring for his pregnant mother and protecting the kingdom in his father's absence.

What if something happened to Amelia during childbirth? Would Lancelot be able to handle it? Would he blame him for not being there?

The king's heart twisted painfully as he imagined Amelia struggling through labor without him, her strong but pale form lying on that grand yet cold bed in the palace. He imagined Lancelot pacing outside her chambers, trying to appear calm and collected but harboring the same fears that now plagued his father.

Saul clenched his fists, his thick gloves creaking under the pressure. "A king sacrifices," he reminded himself, as he had so many times before. But the words rang hollow now. What kind of man sacrifices his family for duty? What kind of father walks away when his wife and children need him most?

"Your Majesty?" came a voice, breaking his thoughts. It was Watford, his golden-armored general and most trusted companion.

Saul blinked, realizing he had stopped walking. He glanced at Watford, whose piercing gaze softened slightly as he noticed the troubled look on his king's face.

"Is everything all right?" Watford asked, his voice low enough that the other soldiers wouldn't overhear.

Saul hesitated before speaking. "I'm worried about Amelia. About the child. And Lancelot."

Watford nodded slowly. "Your family is strong, your highness. The queen is one of the fiercest people I've ever met. And Lancelot…" He let out a quiet chuckle. "That boy is a force of nature. At fifteen, he's more capable than most men twice his age. They'll manage."

Saul wanted to believe those words, but the weight of uncertainty hung over him like a shroud. He turned away from Watford, his gaze settling on the flickering torchlight illuminating the cave walls.

Meanwhile, back in the Dragon Kingdom, Queen Amelia, known as "The Ice Lord" and King Saul's wife, was in labor of her second child.

The palace room was dark and cold. Candles flickered, casting spooky shadows. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by Queen Amelia's labored breathing. The stone floors seemed to absorb the light, making the room feel gloomy.

After hours of labor, Queen Amelia gave birth to a boy. Despite her exhaustion, she stood almost immediately, aware of the urgency of the sacred Okpus test.

The palace room was dark and cold, the air heavy with the scent of incense and the metallic tang of anticipation. Candles flickered, casting spooky shadows on the stone walls, their light barely piercing the gloom. Queen Amelia sat on the edge of the ornate bed, her posture regal and unwavering as she cradled her newborn son. The baby slept peacefully, unaware of the trial he was about to face.

The Okpus test.

It was a sacred ritual, one that every child born into the Dragon Royal Family had to undergo. The test would reveal the purity and strength of their bloodline, ranking them among the dragons of legend. The highest rank, the Green Dragon, was a symbol of unparalleled power and divinity. But for those who failed… the consequences were dire.

Amelia's heart was steady as she thought of the basin in the center of the room, its crystal surface glinting in the dim light. The sacred blood within it would judge her son, revealing his true nature. She had no fear, no doubt. The child was King Saul's son, born of the purest dragon bloodline. She had been loyal to the king in every way, and she knew this child would prove his worth.

But still, the weight of the moment pressed on her. The Okpus test was not just a ritual—it was a trial by fire. If the child's bloodline was impure, the sacred blood would burn him alive, leaving nothing but ashes. The thought was chilling, but Amelia refused to let it shake her resolve. She had faith in her husband, in her child, and in the blood that ran through their veins.

"Your Majesty," the elderly scholar said gently, breaking the silence. "It is time."

Amelia nodded, her expression calm and composed. She rose from the bed, her movements graceful and deliberate, and carried her son to the basin. The scholars gathered around, their eyes fixed on the child. The air grew heavier, charged with an energy that made the candles flicker wildly.

The scholar began the ritual, his voice low and reverent. "The Okpus test is sacred and perilous. It will reveal the purity of the child's bloodline and rank him among the dragons of legend. But if the child is not of dragon blood…" He paused, his gaze meeting Amelia's. "The sacred blood will burn him, and he will perish."

Amelia's jaw tightened, but she showed no fear. She knew the risks, but she also knew the truth. This child was Saul's heir, born of the Black Dragon's bloodline. There was no doubt in her mind, no room for hesitation.

She looked down at her son, his tiny face so peaceful in sleep. He was the future of the Dragon Kingdom, the embodiment of her love for Saul and their shared legacy. She would not falter, not now.

With steady hands, she lowered her son into the basin.

The moment his skin touched the sacred blood, the room erupted in light. A golden glow burst forth, so bright it blinded her. The air crackled with energy, and the ground beneath her feet seemed to tremble. The scholars gasped, their voices rising in awe and disbelief.

Amelia's heart swelled with pride as she realized what was happening. Her son was not just a dragon—he was something more. Something extraordinary.

But as the light faded, a new thought gripped her. What did this mean for him? For her? For the world?

The scholar's voice broke the silence, trembling with reverence. "A golden light shines… The child is the Gold Dragon."

Queen Amelia's eyes widened in awe. "This is unprecedented. What does it mean?" she asked. There're hundreds of known recorded dragons in our generation, but I've never heard of a gold dragon.

A wise old scholar stepped forward. "Azrok once predicted this possibility, though he believed the chances of a benevolent dragon emerging were infinitesimally slim.

Amelia's breath caught in her throat. Azrok—the name was legendary, a scholar whose work on dragon genetics and evolution had reshaped their understanding of divinity and power. But his predictions were not prophecies; they were calculations, theories based on centuries of research.

"What did he say?" Amelia asked, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her heart.

The scholar hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. "Azrok's work was… complex. He studied the bloodlines of dragons, tracing their evolution and potential. In his *Codex of Eternity*, he theorized that dragonkind was nearing the peak of their power, but that there was still untapped potential in their bloodlines. He called it the 'Gold Dragon'—a being born from the perfect convergence of traits, a dragon so powerful it would surpass all others.

Amelia's grip tightened on her son. She had always known his birth would be significant, but this… this was beyond anything she had imagined. She looked down at his tiny face, so peaceful in sleep, and wondered how something so small could carry such a heavy destiny.

"But Azrok believed it was nearly impossible," the scholar continued. "The genetic alignment required was so rare, so precise, that he calculated the odds to be less than one in a billion. And yet… here he is.

Amelia's mind raced. If Azrok's calculations were correct, her son was not just a rarity—he was a miracle. But miracles, she knew, often came with a price. "What does this mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The scholar shook his head. "I do not know, Your Majesty. Azrok's work was theoretical. He could predict the potential for such a dragon, but not its impact. Your son's power will be unmatched, but how he wields it… that will shape the fate of the world."

As the golden light from the Okpus test faded, the room fell into a stunned silence. The scholars and midwives exchanged uneasy glances, their faces pale with awe and fear. Queen Amelia, still weak from childbirth, clutched her newborn son tightly, her heart pounding with a mix of pride and dread. The prophecy had been fulfilled—her child was the Gold Dragon. But what did that mean for him? For her? For the world?

Before anyone could speak, a sudden, piercing red light cut through the darkness. It came from the moon, bathing the room in an unnatural, blood-like glow. The light was so intense that it seemed to seep into the very walls, casting long, jagged shadows that danced like specters. The air grew heavy, charged with an energy that made Amelia's skin crawl.

"What… what is this?" one of the midwives whispered, his voice trembling.

Amelia's eyes widened as she stared at the light. She had seen this before, A red light from the moon—it was a sign of a new prophecy emerging, one that would shape the fate of the world. Her heart sank as the implications dawned on her. This was no coincidence. The light had appeared the moment her son was declared the Gold Dragon. Whatever this new prophecy was, it was tied to him.

But there was no time to ponder. The Dragon Kingdom lacked the power to view prophecies directly. That ability belonged to the Leech Kingdom, a realm shrouded in darkness and mystery. The thought sent a chill down Amelia's spine. The Leech Kingdom was no ally. They had been forced into submission by King Saul's might, their loyalty bought with fear rather than trust. Over the years, they had grown stronger, biding their time, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Amelia's mind raced. If the Leech Kingdom saw this prophecy, they would know about her son. They would see him as a threat—or worse, a tool. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't.

"Your Majesty," one of the scholars said hesitantly, "the red light… it's a sign. A new prophecy has been revealed. But without access to the Hall of Prophecy, we cannot know its contents."

Amelia nodded, her expression grim. "I know. And so does the Leech Kingdom."

The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air. The Leech Kingdom was cunning, ruthless, and unpredictable. If they saw an opportunity to weaken the Dragon Kingdom, they would take it. And now, with Saul and his strongest warriors far away, the kingdom was vulnerable.

Amelia's thoughts turned to her husband. Saul had always been the shield that protected their people, the unyielding force that kept their enemies at bay. But he wasn't here now. The responsibility fell to her. She looked down at her son, his tiny face peaceful in sleep. He was so fragile, so innocent. And yet, he carried the weight of a prophecy that could change the world.

"We must prepare," she said, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her heart. "The Leech Kingdom will not sit idle. They will see this as an opportunity. We must be ready."

The scholars nodded, their faces pale but determined. They knew the stakes. The Dragon Kingdom had faced countless threats before, but this was different. This was not just a battle for power—it was a battle for the future.

As the red light continued to shine, casting its eerie glow over the kingdom, Amelia felt a surge of resolve. She would protect her son. She would protect her people. No matter the cost.