The golden Celestial Dragons were unraveling.

You could see it in the way their wings faltered mid-beat, in the way they drifted backward through the air like leaves caught in a gale. Their eyes—once proud, crackling with thunder—now shimmered with fear.

They knew.

They knew they were outmatched.

As a force, they couldn't stand against Emerald Castle's army. Not in numbers. Not in strength. Not in resolve. A full-frontal clash would only end one way: total annihilation.

But it was too late to retreat.

The tide had already turned. Emerald Castle's forces surged forward, their power rising like a tidal wave, blotting out the sky with sheer pressure. The golden dragons were caught in it—trapped like dust in a storm, with nowhere to run.

And in the eye of that storm, Ethan moved.

He shot forward like a bolt of lightning, closing the distance between himself and the Celestial Dragon commander in a blink. His hand clamped around the dragon's throat, slamming him down into the earth with bone-cracking force.

The ground split beneath the impact.

"Who are you?" Ethan growled, his voice low and lethal. "Where did you come from? Why attack my city?"

The dragon leader choked, eyes wide with panic. He could feel it—how close he was to death. One twitch of Ethan's fingers, and his spine would snap like dry wood.

"We… we were once part of Sky Citadel," the dragon rasped, voice trembling. "After you destroyed them… we wanted revenge. But we knew we couldn't win in open battle. So we hoped… a duel might give us a chance…"

Ethan's eyes narrowed.

So that was it.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a small golden orb, holding it up just inches from the dragon's snout.

"Then tell me," he said, voice like ice, "do you know what this is? Do you know how to use it?"

The dragon froze.

He didn't recognize the object itself—but the energy radiating from it was unmistakable. Pure. Ancient. Sky Citadel's legacy.

"I've seen the High Lord use something like it," the dragon whispered. "But… I'm sorry. I don't know how it works…"

He started to lift his head, maybe to say more—

Crack.

Ethan twisted his wrist.

The dragon's neck snapped cleanly, his head lolling to the side before it was wrenched free entirely.

"If you don't know anything," Ethan said, voice flat and cold, "then you're not worth keeping alive. Consider it a gift to my soldiers—something to feed their strength."

And with that—

The army of Emerald Castle roared.

Their battle cry shook the desert, and their power surged forward like a flood, crashing into the remaining golden dragons with merciless force.

The fight didn't last long.

It was a storm—sudden, brutal, and over in moments.

When the dust settled, the sky was clear. No golden wings. No thunderous roars. The Celestial Dragons had been wiped out, their bodies broken, their power absorbed by the warriors of Emerald Castle.

And those warriors stood taller now.

Stronger.

Sharper.

Ethan stretched lazily, as if the brutal battle just moments ago had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience—an errand, not a war.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, he pulled out a pale pink power bead and rolled it between his fingers.

"From this moment on," he said calmly, "our strategic objective changes."

His voice was steady, but it carried weight. "We're not going to win the next phase through brute force. The goal now is to take Sol'Rakka—through cunning."

The silence that followed was immediate and stunned.

Every soldier within earshot stared at him, wide-eyed. Emerald Castle had always been known for overwhelming its enemies with sheer might, not subtlety. Strategy, yes—but subterfuge? Diplomacy?

Unthinkable.

"My Lord…" Elira stepped forward, her tone edged with disbelief. "Are you saying we can't beat Sol'Rakka in open battle? If you doubt our strength, we can march right now and take that desert by force!"

Ethan shook his head—not with anger, but with a quiet finality that made the entire camp fall still.

"Elira," he said, his gaze sharpening, "that's not what I meant."

His eyes darkened, thoughtful. "I've been to Sol'Rakka. I've seen it up close. That place… it doesn't need to be conquered by war."

"In fact," he continued, "if we can bring Sol'Rakka under our banner willingly, they'll become one of our greatest assets. With them, Emerald Castle's power won't just grow—it'll multiply."

The murmurs died. Even the most battle-hardened among them paused to consider the weight of his words.

"But," Ethan went on, his voice turning steely, "merging two powers of this scale won't happen with clever words alone."

He turned, eyes sweeping across his gathered commanders. "So—mobilize the entire army. Move along the desert's edge, quietly. No banners. No noise."

"Sol'Rakka must not know we're coming."

"When the time is right," he said, "I'll give the order to strike."

A beat of silence.

Then—

"Yes, My Lord!!"

The shout rolled across the camp like thunder, shaking the very air. The soldiers had waited too long, coiled like springs. Now, with a mission in hand, their blood surged with purpose.

Ethan gave a few final instructions—details on formation, concealment, fallback points—then turned and slipped away from the army, heading alone toward Sol'Rakka.

The pale pink bead Kaelira had given him still pulsed faintly in his palm, its energy now woven into his aura. It carried the unmistakable signature of Sol'Rakkan power.

So when he reached the city gates, the guards barely glanced at him. One look at the glow on his shoulder, and they waved him through without question.

Inside, the city was alive.

The streets were rough but vibrant, lined with sandstone buildings and bustling with people. The locals wore simple clothes, but each outfit bore the unmistakable flair of the desert—bright sashes, sun-bleached fabrics, jewelry made from bone and copper.

And when they noticed the pink shimmer on his shoulder, their warmth was overwhelming. Vendors pressed dried fruits and trinkets into his hands. Children tugged at his sleeves, asking if he'd just returned from the outer cities.

"So this is Sol'Rakka…" Ethan mused, accepting a handful of spiced nuts from an old woman with a toothless grin. "Didn't expect the people to be this… genuine."

He strolled slowly through the streets, taking in the rhythm of daily life—market stalls, laughter, the scent of roasted meat and desert herbs.

Then the air twisted.

A sudden, violent distortion rippled across the sky.

Without warning, a massive shadow dropped from above.

BOOM—!!

The impact shattered the street. Explosions followed in rapid succession, like thunderclaps tearing through the city. Buildings crumbled as if yanked from their foundations, debris raining down like a storm of stone and dust.

Screams erupted.

And then—horribly—came the sound of flesh being torn.

A monstrous creature loomed in the chaos, its gaping maw slick with blood. It lunged forward, snatching up fleeing civilians and devouring them whole.

Crunch. Crunch.

The sound of bones being crushed echoed down the street.

Ethan's pupils contracted into pinpricks.

"What the hell is that thing?!"

...