"He can't be…" Xyntherra's whisper barely stirred the air, but Trevuqis heard it all the same. That single breath sent a chill down his spine. His fists tightened, and a cold certainty settled in his chest.
He could not leave this to chance. Even if the possibility of Dravion being the true prince was barely more than a shadow, Trevuqis refused to gamble. He craved control—he would never allow fate to play its games while he watched from the sidelines. That was simply his nature.
I can not allow him to live... The queen, she...
His body moved before the thought was finished. He acted without warning, driven by something sharper than fear—an urge to erase every risk, no matter how small. The clan would never weep for a nameless outcast, especially if it meant keeping a talent like him in power. In his own mind, they would see his actions as wisdom, not treason, no matter what the truth was.
"Trevuqis?" Xyntherra's eyes followed him, disbelief pulling her features tight as she watched the future heir of the dragon clan dive without a second thought. She would never have imagined such recklessness, even from someone as hungry for power as Trevuqis.
It might have been fear of losing his claim, or perhaps it was just arrogance wearing the mask of courage. Nothing was proven yet, and still he was already ready to throw everything into chaos, all to maintain his own place.
With his Veinkindle aura blazing, his mana burned wild and alive, while the boy below seemed to be nothing more than a new spark—a simple Ember Spark rookie, barely awakened.
What followed stunned everyone who watched, even the presence hidden beyond the tree line.
Dravion's eyes narrowed as Trevuqis descended. There was no misunderstanding in that gaze; malice burned plainly there. Dravion would not stand to be looked at with such contempt. Arrogance shone in every movement of his opponent, but Dravion's expression did not flicker. He met that killing intent with a silence that hinted at something far older than any of them could guess.
Trevuqis's fist erupted in flame, the fire dancing with a red light that marked him as a true genius among his kind. He possessed strength that could threaten those even above his level—a dragon's blood did not lie, and his mana had the weight of ancient power behind it. In his mind, this fight should have been over before it began.
A child, barely weaned from his mother's milk, dares to bare his fangs at me? How far these dragons have fallen… Even reborn and shackled in this fragile flesh, I remain the one they once worshipped—the ruler whose shadow they were born to crawl beneath. Let them watch and remember whose blood commands these flames.
That pride—older than any throne, burning in his veins—rose and carried Dravion forward. He moved without hesitation, mirroring the motion with a fist of his own, golden fire springing to life, hotter and brighter than anything Trevuqis had ever conjured. Without a single step back, Dravion met him blow for blow.
BOOM!
The explosion ripped through the clearing with raw force, yet to Trevuqis's shock, he was not sent flying. Instead, he hung suspended in the air, just as he had when he dove down for the attack. The impact should have thrown both him and Dravion apart, but something was wrong—he could feel fingers closing tight around his wrist, holding him fast. That simple contact sent a cold wave down his spine, as if ice water had flooded his veins.
For a heartbeat, Trevuqis's confidence cracked. Victory had seemed inevitable, but now he found himself trapped, overpowered by strength that pressed in from every side and stripped away the pride he wore like armor. Worse still, he was caught and held in place by the very creature he'd come here to destroy.
Dravion held his gaze, unblinking, calm as a sleeping volcano. He did not believe in leaving debts unsettled; if someone struck at him, the answer would always come. That was his law, whether the world recognized it or not.
Warm blood pooled in Trevuqis's mouth, its taste sharp as iron, while his mana seemed to drain with every ragged breath. A strange force tore through him from within, as if his own blood had turned traitor, bowing to the enemy's will. He didn't understand it yet, but this was blood suppression—the innate power Dravion once wielded in his past life. Even weakened, it was working on its own, steadily unraveling Trevuqis's body from the inside out.
Xyntherra's instincts screamed—something about this child was wrong in a way that defied explanation. The others could only watch in stunned horror, frozen as she reacted in a heartbeat, weaving a barrier of ice around Trevuqis. It was a move only a true master could have made in time, and if she had hesitated, the result would have been fatal.
Trevuqis's vision blurred as Dravion's jaw opened, releasing a light so fierce and blinding it forced his eyes closed. His mind flashed with panic, certain he was about to die, but the cold barrier surrounded him just in time.
Crack!
Pain crashed through his ribs, and then he was hurled backwards, the world spinning as he slammed into a tree with enough force to leave the trunk groaning. The shield had spared his life, barely.
Dravion looked up again, his eyes meeting Xyntherra's. He recognized her power, felt its pressure, and for a moment the clearing seemed poised on the edge of something even greater. Yet before either could move, the stillness broke—a slow, deliberate clapping echoed from the shadows behind Dravion.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
The sound grew louder, and out of the tangled forest stepped a man as pale as polished ash, his eyes burning with the red-gold fire of old bloodlines. His smile flashed with too many teeth, and his long, curved fangs glinted beneath the edge of lips shaped for mockery. Two pairs of bat-like wings folded at his back, gold and crimson robes falling from his shoulders, and the aura rolling from him pressed down on every dragon present, making even Xyntherra tense with instinctive wariness.
He moved with the grace of a seasoned predator, letting his voice drift across the clearing, heavy with amusement.
"What a magnificent show. Power clashing against power, siblings fighting over old blood and pride. The dragon lineage never changes; your mysteries and your brutality are always the same, no matter how many centuries pass."
He stopped just beyond the circle of the dragons and produced a letter the color of fresh blood, extending it with a bow so exaggerated it bordered on insult. The air itself seemed to freeze, the tension rising with every heartbeat.
"Little dragon, you show promise. My young miss would be pleased to have you serve our family. Consider this your invitation."
His gaze swept the gathered dragons, daring any to defy him. In that moment, it was clear to all present—the time had come for a choice. Would they stand with Dravion, or surrender him to an enemy whose very presence threatened to swallow their world whole—the ancient, bloody race of vampires.