Kael'thir descended like a meteor, his wings folded tight, his body a sleek spear of obsidian scales and raw fury.
The ruins blurred beneath him, ancient stones crumbling under the sheer force of his approach.
The figure below didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
They simply stood there, as if waiting for the sky itself to crash down on them.
Kael'thir's crimson eyes narrowed.
Arrogance.
Or confidence.
Either way, it would be their final mistake.
The moment before impact—
The figure moved.
Kael'thir's instincts screamed.
Too fast.
In the blink of an eye, the figure shifted sideways, dodging his deadly dive with effortless precision.
Kael'thir's claws slammed into the stone spire, shattering it into dust, the shockwave rippling through the ruins like a pulse of rage.
But he was already spinning, his wings snapping open, controlling the momentum as he twisted midair.
His tail lashed out—
A strike aimed to crush.
The figure caught it.
Caught it.
With one hand.
Kael'thir's mind sharpened instantly.
This was no ordinary opponent.
This was no beast.
No mindless creature driven by hunger.
This was something else.
Something like him.
The figure's hood fell back, revealing a face sharp with angular features, eyes glowing faintly violet, the same hue Kael'thir had seen in the warrior he'd fought before.
But this one was different.
Stronger.
Older.
A being that had survived long enough to be dangerous.
Their grip on his tail tightened—
And then, with impossible strength, they threw him.
Kael'thir's body crashed through a ruined wall, stone and dust erupting around him.
Pain flared in his side, but he didn't hesitate.
He launched himself back into the fight.
They collided again, claws against blade.
Yes—a blade.
The figure wielded a long, jagged weapon that hummed with mana, its edge sharp enough to slice through air itself.
Kael'thir's claws met steel with a burst of sparks, his muscles screaming with exertion as he pushed harder, trying to overpower.
But the figure didn't break.
Didn't stumble.
They fought with precision, every movement calculated, controlled, efficient.
Kael'thir fought with instinct, raw power, and overwhelming speed.
Two forces clashing—
Will against instinct.
The fight was a blur of violence.
Kael'thir's tail whipped around, aiming for the figure's ribs.
Blocked.
The figure's blade arced down, aiming for his neck.
Dodged.
Claws slashed.
Steel flashed.
Stone shattered.
Neither gained the upper hand.
But Kael'thir felt something brewing beneath the surface—a difference between them.
The figure was skilled.
But Kael'thir was evolving.
With every strike, every clash, he learned.
Adapted.
Became faster.
Stronger.
Smarter.
And the figure—
They were fighting the same way they had at the start.
Kael'thir's grin was feral.
Mistake.
The next exchange was different.
Kael'thir didn't aim for the body.
He aimed for the mind.
He feinted left, wings snapping to shift his trajectory, and when the figure adjusted—
Kael'thir struck from the right.
His claws raked across their armor, tearing through cloth and flesh.
The figure staggered, blood splattering across the broken stones.
Kael'thir didn't stop.
He pressed the advantage, moving with relentless aggression, his strikes faster, sharper, more precise.
The figure tried to counter, but they were already losing ground.
Already too slow.
Kael'thir's instincts roared—
Finish it.
He lunged, jaws wide, aiming to rip out their throat.
But the figure's hand shot up—
Not to block.
To unleash.
A pulse of pure mana erupted from their palm, striking Kael'thir mid-lunge.
It wasn't an attack.
It was a disruption.
Kael'thir's body seized for a fraction of a second, his mind flashing with pain as space itself shuddered around him.
The figure moved in that instant, dodging his lethal strike, retaliating with a swift slash of their blade—
A deep cut across his chest.
Kael'thir snarled, stumbling back, blood dripping from the fresh wound.
But his grin never faded.
Because he knew.
They were desperate now.
The battle continued, both of them bleeding, both of them bruised.
But only one of them was getting stronger.
Only one of them was learning with every strike.
And it wasn't the figure.
Kael'thir's next attack was the end.
A feint.
A twist.
A strike aimed not at the body—
But at the soul.
His claws pierced through the figure's chest, ripping through armor, through bone, through everything that had once made them strong.
The figure gasped, blood spilling from their mouth, their blade falling from weak fingers.
Kael'thir leaned in close, his crimson eyes glowing with victory.
"Weak."
And then—
He devoured.
The mana was unlike anything he'd tasted before.
It wasn't raw like a beast's.
It wasn't simple.
It was layered.
Complex.
Filled with memories, knowledge, and echoes of power long forgotten.
As it flooded into him, Kael'thir felt something shift inside.
Not just his body.
Not just his strength.
Something deeper.
His mind expanded, new instincts rising—not from his dragon heritage, but from what he'd consumed.
Memories that weren't his.
Skills he'd never learned.
Knowledge he'd never sought.
When the figure's body crumbled into ash, Kael'thir stood taller.
His chest heaving.
His mind burning.
And in that moment—
He understood something new.
This wasn't just about survival.
Not just about hunting.
This was about dominion.
About conquest.
And the world had so much more left for him to take.
Kael'thir spread his wings, the blood of his rival still fresh on his claws.
And he flew—
Higher than before.
Because now, he wasn't just a dragon.
He was a dragon who had begun to understand what it meant to be a king.