Arturo found himself at the top of the castle’s highest tower, desperately struggling to maintain structural defenses while observing Venmont’s silhouette standing on his beast’s back, floating arrogantly in the sky.
The sight filled him with impotent rage... their castle reduced to a target for casual bombardnt while the enemy commander posed like so conquering hero from a children’s tale.
The enemy commander wasn’t fused. His corrupt Wyvern "Dragon" was in his opinion much more imposing when outside his body.
Venmont expected no attack.
Why would he?
His soldiers had established a perfect periter around him, their formations tight and relaxed despite the chaos below. He was simply dedicating himself to systematically bombarding a castle that could do nothing more than cover itself pathetically from below.
It was the perfect predator playing with its helpless prey, savoring the anticipation before delivering the killing blow.
Until sothing impacted against him at speed that defied his perception.
It was like watching a shooting star reverse course and slam into a mountain.
The collision canceled the tar’s attack and created an explosion that illuminated the horizon.
Dragarion had arrived.
Arturo collapsed against the tower’s battlents, relief and exhaustion left him temporarily unable to move. His legs gave out not from weakness, but from the sudden release of tension he had been carrying.
His father had returned just in ti.
But it remained to be seen whether even the King’s power would be sufficient against what Yino had created.
♢♢♢♢
Venmont was launched through the air like a rag doll, his concentration destroyed and his carefully charged attack dispersing. His body pierced through three clouds before managing to stabilize, stunned and bleeding from multiple wounds he didn’t understand how he had received.
"What...?" he murmured, looking around desperately to identify his attacker.
His mind struggled to process what had happened. His perception, enhanced by six Gold-rank beasts, should have detected any approach. Yet sothing had struck him with force that made his previous displays of power seem like children playing with toys.
His corrupt Wyvern was heading toward him, but would take precious instants to arrive. Instants that Dragarion had no intention of wasting.
The King of Yano materialized from the air as if he had been invisible, but hadn’t been there monts before. The speed had been so absolute that for Venmont it was indistinguishable from teleportation.
There was no sense of effort or strain, just the natural presence of soone who belonged wherever he decided to be.
"Hello," Dragarion said casually, as if he had bumped into Venmont at the market. "Nice day for invading other people’s kingdoms, isn’t it?"
The conversational tone was more unsettling than any battle roar could have been. This was the voice of soone so confident in their superiority that ’formalities’ like anger or urgency had beco unnecessary.
Before Venmont could respond, an erald fist crashed against his stomach with force that made the air itself ripple. The impact sent him flying again, this ti directly downward, his body carving a path through the sky like a falling teor.
Dragarion followed imdiately, reaching him before he could fall more than fifty ters.
"Oh, but not so fast," he murmured, grabbing Venmont by the ankle and launching him upward like a ball. "We’re just getting to know each other."
Venmont scread in frustration and pain while flying uncontrollably toward the clouds.
His Wyvern finally reached him, roaring with fury upon seeing its tar being mistreated.
"Damn you, you’ll suffer my Dragon’s fury!" Venmont shouted toward his beast while trying to stabilize his flight. "Attack him! Destroy him!"
Dragarion laughed, a sound that resonated through the sky like ’amused thunder’.
The laughter wasn’t mocking or cruel, it was genuinely delighted, as if he had just heard an excellent joke. That sohow made it infinitely more insulting than contempt would have been.
"Dragon?" he repeated with genuine incredulity. "You call that sick lizard a dragon?"
He observed the corrupt Wyvern with the expression of soone evaluating a cheap imitation, the kind of look art experts reserved for obvious forgeries attempting to pass themselves off as masterpieces.
"I know what a dragon is."
The transformation that followed redefined what real power ant.
Dragarion’s Platinum Qilin manifested first. The true "Yellow Dragon" of legends, whose re existence confird celestial mandate to rule.
But it was his Azure Dragon that truly made clear what Dragarion was talking about.
The wood elent beast that had gained incalculable new abilities and advantages from battle against the Dragon Tree erged like a mountain-sized serpent, blue-green scales catching light that seed to co from within rather than from the sun above.
Its whiskers and beard shimred with primordial wisdom, ancient knowledge made manifest in crystalline structures that sang with harmonics beyond human hearing. This was power that predated kingdoms and would outlast civilizations.
Its wood elental power had been refined to maximum during a battle that had pushed Dragarion to the absolute limit of his capabilities, an experience that only Zhao’s ridiculously opportune arrival had saved him from paying with his life.
The mory of that battle was written in every scale, every whisker, every perfect curve of the Azure Dragon’s form. It had been forged in conflict that transcended normal understanding of what constituted overwhelming odds.
But he had won that battle. And he had learned elental secrets that transford his understanding of his beast’s power forever.
"This," Dragarion declared while the Azure Dragon materialized completely, "is a Dragon."
♢♢♢♢
Venmont’s corrupt Wyvern attacked imdiately, launching acid that would have lted the strongest Gold tars.
The assault was desperate and furious, the kind of all-out attack that spoke to genuine fear finally breaking through artificial confidence. Gallons of concentrated acid stread through the air like a toxic waterfall.
The Azure Dragon ignored it completely.
The acid drops were simply absorbed by its living scales, converted into nutrients that made the beast glow more intensely. It was like trying to poison an entire forest by throwing a few drops of venom.
"Wow, what a complex attack..." Dragarion comnted, observing the failed assault. "Was that everything?"
The tone was that of a teacher patiently waiting for a student to demonstrate they had understood a lesson, already knowing the answer would be disappointing.
Venmont, finally recovering so composure, began invoking the rest of his beasts. His other three Gold rank 1 creatures manifested around him, creating a formation that would have intimidated any other opponent.
)
There were 6 creatures, 3 of them fused and 3 of them free.
But Dragarion laughed louder and clapped instead of becoming frightened.
The amusent was genuine and infectious, as if he were watching an exceptionally entertaining performance rather than facing overwhelming power.
"Very well," Venmont murmured, preparing for complete fusion. "If you want to see how real power works..."
Venmont’s transformation was impressive in its own horrible way. His six beasts fused with him into an amalgamation of corrupt power that far surpassed what Kharzan had achieved. Muscles expanded beyond anatomical possibility, bones elongated into configurations that defied natural law, and his form beca sothing that transcended normal anatomy.
The process was as fascinating as it was repulsive, artificial enhancent pushed to limits that should have been impossible to survive.
"The total increases of six Gold-rank beasts!" Venmont roared, his voice now multiplied by multiple creatures. "Let’s see if your arrogance survives this!"
His final form was truly monstrous: a hybrid of Wyvern, scorpion, crocodile, and three more beasts he had fused into a living nightmare of arms, claws, teeth, and wings.
Dragarion observed him for a mont, evaluating the power demonstration with interest.
His expression was that of a master craftsman examining an ambitious but flawed apprentice work... appreciative of the effort while noting fundantal errors in execution.
Then he laughed again.
"Perfect," he declared with genuine joy. "I was getting bored."
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