Ex rank talent Awakening: 100% Dodge rate

"Drakonix! You came back!" the little girl squealed with joy, her voice ringing like a bell across the courtyard. Ignorance truly was bliss. She sprinted toward the dragon, her tiny arms wrapping around one of Drakonix's massive forelimbs as best she could, clinging to him with innocent affection.

"Rebecca," Drakonix murmured softly, forcing a smile. He tried to act like his usual self, keeping his tone light and playful—anything to ensure she didn't notice the heavy air, the tension thick enough to cut. He couldn't bear to let her see the cruelty of the world. Not yet. Her mother's disappearance had already stolen enough from her. He wouldn't allow her to face the truth of what was coming—death, bloodshed, extinction. Her heart was too small, too pure to carry such grief.

"Little Reb, let's go play. What do you say?" Drakonix asked, attempting to curve his lipless snout into a smile. It was a clumsy expression for a creature so large, but she didn't notice.

"Will Daddy come along?" she asked, tilting her head up.

Those words stabbed like a dagger. Both Drakonix and King Alfred winced, pain flashing across their faces.

"No, Daddy's busy today. Perhaps another time," Alfred said gently. He stepped forward and knelt beside her, placing a hand on her head before pulling her into a firm, lingering hug. He held her for a few seconds longer than usual, trying to burn her warmth into his memory. The sorrow inside him swelled, threatening to burst through the cracks in his armor. But he couldn't show it—not here, not now. His people needed a king, not a grieving father.

"Hmph! Daddy is always busy," Rebecca pouted, puffing her cheeks.

But just as quickly, she smiled again. "I love you, Daddy."

It was the last time she would ever say those words to him.

With Drakonix's help, Rebecca climbed atop his head, giggling as she found her perch. The dragon weaved subtle patterns in the air with his tongue, forming a protective spell to ensure she wouldn't fall.

He glanced down at Alfred, the two locking eyes. No words were spoken, but an understanding passed between them. A final goodbye.

Drakonix spread his now-healed wings wide. With a powerful flap, he ascended into the sky, determined to carry Rebecca far away—beyond the reach of the major clans and their genocide.

"Stop."

The voice echoed like thunder across the heavens, ancient and absolute. The mana in the atmosphere rippled violently, bending to the will of the one who spoke.

Drakonix froze midair, held in place by an invisible force. His body was bound by dragon tongue—a command impossible to defy.

Terror lanced through him. There was only one being who could speak the old tongue with such authority, who could bend reality itself with a single word.

The first dragon.

His father.

A primordial being crafted by the universe itself, possessing a reservoir of mana and a bloodline so pure that even the proudest dragons bowed before him. For any dragon born after, to resist his will was suicide.

"How disappointing," came the voice again, laced with disdain. "To think you would abandon your sacred duty—bestowed by me—all to save a few pitiful ants and flee like a coward. You truly disappoint me."

Greg's heart pounded within Drakonix's chest. It was a trap. His father had lied. The timing he gave was a ruse—meant to force Drakonix to act, to reveal who he cared for most. He had taken the bait, and now, all those he tried to protect would pay the price.

Regret hit like a crashing wave. He had brought this upon them.

"Father… please… I beg you… Let them go," Drakonix whispered, voice trembling as he hovered helplessly in the sky.

"Silence."

A vast shadow blotted out the moonlight. The colossal form of the dragon king loomed above the palace, his wings casting darkness over the land.

From the distance, the sound of footsteps shook the ground.

"It seems you arrived ahead of us," said the Titan King, each of his steps forming craters in the earth. Behind him marched legions of stone-armored warriors.

The dragon king had waited. Now his allies had come.

"Guess we didn't miss the party," chuckled the Demon King, a wicked grin on his face. Rows of demon elites stood neatly behind him, their eyes glowing with anticipation.

"Let's get this over with," said the Celestial King, his voice devoid of care, as if this was merely a chore.

The Elf Queen and the Dwarf King stood in silence, their gazes lingering on King Alfred. In their eyes was guilt, but no hesitation. They didn't regret the betrayal—they had chosen survival for their races over honor. It was a burden shared by all rulers.

"Let us begin," the Dragon King declared, inhaling deeply.

He summoned mana from the very fabric of the world, his voice sharp as a blade. "All humans of the human race, be teleported to this area."

The air cracked and surged. Tremors of unstable energy pulsed through the sky as dozens—hundreds—of small rifts opened like tears in reality. One by one, humans were torn from wherever they were—homes, villages, hiding spots—and dumped into the palace square like sacks of grain.

The crowd swelled like a tide. Confused, afraid, unaware.

"Begin the annihilation."

The order was given. The Dragon King stepped back, having played his part. The others advanced.

"No… no…" Drakonix whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Reb, close your eyes," he said gently. "Don't look."

"Waaahhh! Why are they doing this?!" she cried, sobbing into his scales. But the sounds—screams, pleading, fire, and metal—forced her to peek.

And then, she stared.

She watched as men, women, and children like her were slaughtered without mercy. Her people—people who shared her face, her voice, her soul—were butchered in front of her.

Something within her cracked. No… it ignited.

She had always known, deep down, that the major clans held contempt for humanity. But she had ignored it, pretended otherwise because of Drakonix. He was her friend—her only friend. And so she forgave the world.

But now?

Now the lie was too big to ignore.

Drakonix felt her gaze, her anger and sorrow. It crushed him.

"Stop! STOP THIS! PLEASE!!" he roared, his deep voice quivering with desperation. Tears welled in his golden eyes.

Below, the massacre continued.

Humans screamed, begging for mercy. Friends, lovers, children—all torn apart. Blood soaked the soil. There were no weapons left to raise, no defiance. The will to resist had been snuffed out. What remained was raw panic and utter despair.

"Please… someone… anyone…" the people cried. But no gods came.

The Dragon King descended, his form shifting into his human guise. In his hand, he held a limp figure—someone precious to Drakonix.

"Now, Drakonix," the dragon king said coldly. "Let this be your wake-up call."