The sun was rising slowly over the east coast of the United States, casting golden glimmers on the peaceful horizon of the Atlantic Ocean. Yet, this seemingly tranquil morning would soon be shattered by an alert that would change everything.

In a secret military base, nestled in the heart of a cliff near Virginia Beach, General

Jonathan Wade observed the ocean with high-precision binoculars, a worried wrinkle deeply marking his forehead. At his side stood his trusted officers, among whom was

Thomas Grant, an expert in radar detection and advanced technologies, known for his exemplary calm in critical situations.

- "General," Thomas called out, an unusual hint of concern in his voice, "our long-range radars have just detected massive movement about 60 kilometers offshore. It doesn't look like anything we've seen before. It looks like... a true flying army."

General Wade slowly turned his head toward him, his steel-gray eyes narrowing slightly.

- "Are you certain, Grant? This isn't simply a system error?"

Thomas shook his head firmly.

- "I wish it were the case, General, but no. The thermal and magnetic signatures are indisputable. These are dragons. And not just a few of them. We're talking about a true aerial fleet, unprecedented power."

Wade took a deep breath, suddenly feeling the crushing weight of this revelation. He immediately understood the magnitude of the threat: Maelor had finally decided to deliver the decisive blow against North America.

- "Immediately send a red alert to all military bases and major cities on the East Coast. Alert Washington, Philadelphia, New York, Boston, and every available defensive fortification. Implement our emergency protocols immediately."

- "Yes, General!" Thomas replied, rushing to relay the orders.

Meanwhile, in Washington, President Alexander Ross had just been awakened by the national security alert. He hurried to the crisis room, accompanied by his chief advisor, Emily Carter, known for her sharp intelligence and exemplary composure.

- "President," Emily declared in a grave voice, "the dragons are approaching. Virginia Beach base has just confirmed the presence of an immense draconic fleet led by Maelor himself."

President Ross took a moment to process the information, fully aware of the dramatic consequences this implied.

- "What is the exact strength of this fleet, Emily?"

- "Immense, Mr. President. According to our information, the Borask family leads the front lines, directly accompanied by Maelor and his royal guards. We have never faced such a force before."

The President briefly closed his eyes, reflecting on the resources they still had available. He knew this battle would be decisive for the future of the United States and probably all of humanity.

- "Immediately mobilize all our elite squadrons," he ordered firmly. "Deploy anti-aircraft defense systems across the entire East Coast and alert every citizen in the affected cities. We will defend our soil until our last breath."

Miles away, within a small clandestine human resistance group, Jacob Parker, a former elite soldier turned charismatic rebellion leader, also received the news via a secret communication channel. At his side, Alicia Moore, the ingenious engineer responsible for their improvised weapons and cutting-edge technologies, paled slightly while listening to the message.

- "Jacob..." she whispered, her eyes wide with horror. "This time, it's real. The dragons are coming en masse, and Maelor is with them."

Jacob gritted his teeth, his hands clenched on his weapon. He looked around, observing the determined but frightened faces of his companions. He knew the coming battle would be the most difficult of all.

"Get everyone ready," he declared with powerful conviction. "No matter their numbers, no matter their strength... we will fight. Until the end."

Above the ocean, the draconic army advanced inexorably, led by Maelor, gigantic and terrifying, his black scales gleaming under the rising sun, followed by the robust dragons of the Borask family, ready to sow chaos over America.

The draconic fleet advanced majestically above the Atlantic Ocean, the regular and powerful beating of hundreds of wings creating a deafening rumble. At the head of this imposing army, Maelor dominated the ensemble with his terrifying presence, his massive black dragon body almost eclipsing the sun. Behind him, the Borask family, these robust dragons resembling living rocks, maintained a perfect formation, disciplined and impressive.

The Borask patriarch, named Galrik, flew alongside Maelor, savoring every moment of this warlike advance. His spirit, usually joyful, was now exalted by the imminence of combat. He glanced at his family, his warriors with solid brown scales, and felt immeasurable pride swell in his powerful chest.

"Today is a great day!" he roared to encourage his warriors. "Today, we will prove to all that the Borasks are the true masters of combat!"

The dragons responded with a unanimous cry, vibrating with excitement, their voices mixing with the wind and ocean waves.

Maelor, while maintaining a constant trajectory, silently observed the horizon ahead. His thoughts were focused, strategic, already anticipating every movement the humans might attempt to counter them. He knew their determination, but he also knew their intrinsic weakness when faced with the brute and elemental power of dragons.

He turned his head slightly toward Galrik, addressing him with a respectful but firm look.

"Keep your troops ready, Galrik," he declared in a powerful but measured voice. "The humans will resist fiercely. We must strike fast, strike hard, and break their will immediately."

Galrik vigorously nodded his head, his warrior enthusiasm reinforced by the unquestionable authority of his king.

"Of course, Your Majesty! The Borasks are ready to follow your orders to the end."

At the heart of the formation, other younger dragons, animated by the promise of glory and rewards, exchanged enthusiastic glances, impatient to prove their worth in combat. Yet, a subtle hint of nervousness ran through some of the most inexperienced ranks, aware that this battle would be of a magnitude they had never faced before.

But none of them would dare retreat. All knew that Maelor would tolerate no weakness, no failure.

The first assault wave struck the American coasts with unimaginable violence. Maelor, in his gigantic black dragon form, dove first into battle, his black and corrosive breath sweeping the first defensive lines with terrifying efficiency. Each beat of his immense wings projected gusts capable of uprooting trees and pulverizing military structures.

The United States had nevertheless mobilized all their resources: anti-aircraft defenses, long-range missiles, advanced technology fighter jets, and even their most powerful human fighters, those rare S-rank warriors capable of briefly challenging dragons.

But faced with Maelor and the Borask family, the American army quickly discovered the abyssal difference in power. Human weapons, even the most perfected, proved incapable of piercing the thick scales of the Borask dragons. Their robust bodies, resembling living mountains, absorbed explosions and impacts without flinching, advancing imperturbably to destroy human positions.

The sky quickly became absolute chaos: dragons dove, launched torrents of flames and massive rocks, while American fighter jets desperately attempted to contain the threat, in vain. The terrifying appearance of Maelor at the head of the assault, tearing through the sky with his deafening roars and destructive breath, sowed uncontrollable panic in the human ranks.

"Retreat!" desperately cried an American general, his voice covered by the din of explosions and screams. "Retreat! We cannot stop them here!"

On the ground, American S-rank fighters struggled desperately, but even their exceptional power seemed derisory faced with Maelor's implacable brutality. A simple tail strike from the black dragon sufficed to sweep away entire units, projecting bodies and debris in all directions.

The draconic army progressed methodically and remorselessly, each advance pushing the American forces further back in terror and confusion. No human obstacle seemed capable of slowing, let alone stopping, the surge of brute power embodied by Maelor and his warriors.

Soon, the East Coast of the United States sank into total panic. Destruction spread inexorably, cities evacuated in emergency gave way to the irresistible dragon invasion. The morale of human troops wavered dangerously, crushed by the terrifying demonstration of draconic supremacy.

In the midst of this chaos, Maelor roared triumphantly, his icy eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he advanced relentlessly toward the heart of America, determined to definitively crush all human resistance and seal the world's fate under his absolute reign.

In the midst of this chaos, Maélor roared triumphantly, his icy eyes shining with satisfaction as he advanced relentlessly toward the heart of America, determined to definitively crush all human resistance and seal the fate of the world under his absolute reign.

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Hello evryone, i hope so it's fine for u and ur family ; In the meantime, things are starting to go well for me. I have a few health issues, but I hope they won't get worse and complicate the publication schedule.

I wish you all a great holiday, unless you're working, haha, in which case I feel sorry for you.

Have a great day, evening or afternoon, and see you tomorrow.