The proud Chancellor Malrik had already lowered his expectations the moment he realized who had arrived.

But even then, he hadn’t expected both Kael and Karion to be part of this costly mistake.

Because now, with his body locked in place and his mana unable to respond accordingly, there was no room left for strategy.

Only force.

Malrik’s eyes darted frantically under his hood.

If he were pinned, he’d just have to force his way out.

He lashed his now-forked tongue against the roof of his mouth, biting down hard until the metallic tang of his poisonous blood filled his throat as his fangs pierced flesh.

Good.

He needed that.

The Chancellor, who barely had any time, began to chant internally, focusing his power in preparation for toxic miasma to bleed out from his robes.

He was hell-bent on this escape, certain that the dragon lord and his father would be upon him. After all, given the situation, he would have to be the primary target, the greatest threat they had to neutralize.

By the time he was done with his preparations, the figure under his robe was barely recognizable. His eyes had already turned into slitted, reptilian orbs, and dark scales were starting to form ridges across his forehead.

He was ready to strike, just needing one perfect moment.

One—

...Nothing.

Malrik froze.

His eyes widened even more.

He couldn’t open his mouth.

The poison sat there, trapped.

But worse than what had happened to him, the Chancellor realized something—

No one was even looking at him.

What?

For a second, he thought he’d misread the situation.

But no.

They weren’t even glancing his way.

He was there. Suspended. An enemy in their midst.

And yet the Dravaryns were simply focusing on different things as if he weren’t even worth a glance.

Malrik couldn’t believe it.

And despite seeing Kael Dravaryn reappear in front of the red dragon instead of in front of him, he was still thinking about how impossible this was.

But that was really what was happening.

The dragon lord appeared so suddenly that it looked like the space had bent to accommodate him.

His long golden hair was thrown back, caught in the violent pressure gathering before him, as if a storm had condensed into a single point.

Then his mana surged.

The display was so tremendous that it spread outward with crushing weight, pressing into the ground and forcing the very foundation of the MBE to tremble.

The air shook with it. The surrounding structures rattled. Panic rippled through the people nearby as their screams rose in unison with the pained roar of the red dragon.

The massive creature couldn’t even support its own body under that pressure. It was forced down, its limbs buckling as it was driven into the ground, its roar strained and uneven beneath the overwhelming dominance of Kael’s presence.

And yet, from where he remained suspended, Malrik actually felt none of it.

The contrast was jarring.

In reality, he wouldn’t have even known that such strong mana had been released had he not seen the buildings rattle or heard the people screaming for their lives in blind panic.

It was then that he theorized that Kael may have been controlling his release with terrifying precision. After all, that human—the one Kael dared to bring to the dragon clan to embarrass their great lineage—was able to walk around without any issues.

In fact, that Hale had been casually checking on those runts, inspecting Orien and that anomaly, while Karion, who had stepped up to help, was directed toward Kael and the red dragon instead.

From his frozen position, Malrik heard Riley’s voice carry over the chaos.

"Dad, please stop him from killing the dragon."

Malrik tried to growl, his throat tight with suppressed rage.

He couldn’t believe the audacity of a mortal to attach himself to a dragon and give orders like that. He made a mental note to remove someone as ambitious as this human the next time he got the chance.

While Malrik had always preferred beings with ambitions to those without direction, like the Dravaryns, he didn’t think those who wouldn’t even live to see the future he was creating should delude themselves further.

And so why not spare them the misery of living longer but pointless lives?

In the Chancellor’s mind, he was being generous like this already.

If only he had understood.

If only he knew that, between the two of them, there was someone who truly had no right to indulge in delusions.

And it certainly wasn’t the dragon whose likeness was closest to the original ancient.

__

"Brother... Orien... will Orien be alright?!"

Liam’s voice cracked as he clung to Riley, fingers gripping tightly at his sleeve as if that alone could keep everything from falling apart.

To the child’s credit, he tried to radiate strength, maybe some sort of calm amidst the panic, but as an honest boy, it was simply impossible to hide the anguish on his face.

Riley had already dropped beside them. His movements were careful and deliberate as he reached out, trying to assess the injury without putting pressure on Orien’s leg, which was still bleeding far more than anyone liked.

Orien, for his part, forced a small smile.

"Little Sprite, I’m okay," he said, voice thinner than he intended. It was probably meant to sound as regal as he thought he always sounded, but that wasn’t particularly easy considering his condition.

Still, the child who didn’t look so believable at the moment managed to actually say, "How could I even die?"

The child tried to make light of his state.

Because in truth, the injury itself shouldn’t have been a problem. It would heal. It always did. If he’d had enough mana, he would’ve already taken care of it on his own, and the little sprite wouldn’t look like he was about to cry.

But unfortunately, he didn’t.

He’d spent everything getting to Liam in time.

And he didn’t regret that one bit.