Ex rank talent Awakening: 100% Dodge rate

"Daddy!" Rebecca screamed, her tiny voice cracking under the weight of sheer horror. Her tear-filled eyes locked onto the gruesome sight of her father—King Alfred—dangling limply in the iron grip of the Dragon King. Blood streamed from the corners of the old king's mouth, and his breath came in shallow, rattling wheezes. His body trembled like a leaf in the wind, the fire in his eyes already dimming.

King Alfred was close to death—so close that even the act of breathing seemed like agony. His once-proud posture had crumpled under the might of a being who viewed him as nothing more than a disposable pawn.

"Father, please..." Drakonix's voice cracked as he stepped forward, desperation etched deep into his face. "I beg of you—let him go. I swear on my life, I will obey. I'll abandon them, I won't ever speak to them again. Just please… let him live."

The Dragon King didn't even spare his son a glance. His golden eyes remained fixed on the frail man in his grasp, burning with a disdain so cold it chilled the air around them.

"Drakonix. Wake up," the Dragon King said, his voice like an avalanche—calm, slow, and crushing. "You are my heir. You cannot afford to associate with vermin. This filth is beneath us."

The Dragon King's claws tightened.

"Let this serve as a lesson. For every lowborn creature you dare to protect—this is what will become of them."

And then, with terrifying ease, he pressed his massive palm against King Alfred's temple. There was a wet crunch. A burst of pressure. And then—silence.

The old king's skull collapsed like a ruptured balloon. Bone and brain matter sprayed outward in a grotesque explosion, painting the cracked marble floor in a sickly shade of red and grey.

Drakonix stood frozen. His eyes bulged, his breath hitched. He opened his mouth to scream—but nothing came out. His throat locked, his chest constricted, and for a moment, all he could do was stare in dumbfounded disbelief at the headless corpse of his friend.

A wave of dizziness overtook him. The world tilted sideways.

Rebecca's shrill cries tore through the silence. "FATHER!!" She screamed again and again, as if saying it enough times might somehow reverse time. Her tiny fists pounded the ground, her voice rising into an uncontrollable sobbing wail that echoed across the burning city. Deep down, though… the child knew. The man she loved most was gone. Forever.

Drakonix fell to his knees midair, not by choice but by the sheer collapse of his spirit. The magic that kept him afloat trembled, his soul fractured beyond repair. He stared blankly at Alfred's corpse, lips trembling.

Then, a voice like thunder rumbled again.

"That was your warning," the Dragon King said without remorse, not even looking back. "And her death... will be my final one."

Drakonix's breath caught. Her? He looked up, eyes wide with renewed panic. Rebecca. His father was going after her too. He couldn't let that happen.

He strained. Fought. Every fiber of his will screamed in protest. Move. Move! But he was shackled, suspended by the ancient and absolute authority of the Dragon Command—his body bound by the legacy of blood. His own magic restrained him, forged into obedience by the traditions of his lineage.

"No—no!" he screamed internally, tears streaking down his face. His aura flared wildly, but he still couldn't move. All he could do was watch as his father slowly turned toward the sobbing girl.

"Please, Father! I'm begging you!" Drakonix cried aloud, his voice raw and desperate. "She's just a child! Don't do this! She's innocent!"

The Dragon King didn't slow. He stepped toward the girl, the weight of his presence forcing the surrounding air to grow still and heavy. The aura of death, power, and ancient cruelty hung thick like a stormcloud.

"This," the king said coldly, now within reach of his son, "is the kind of weakness I cannot allow in my heir. This pathetic begging? This emotional display? It's beneath you. You're a dragon, not a simpering mortal."

He turned his gaze to Rebecca, who was trembling on the ground, still crying, still hitting the floor with tiny fists that made no difference. Her body froze as the Dragon King's hand reached for her—until suddenly, the spell cast by Drakonix to keep her safe shattered.

As the Dragon King's massive claws brushed her, Rebecca broke free. She thrashed, screamed, beat his arms with her tiny hands, but it was like striking stone.

"You're right, son," the Dragon King said, looking down at the struggling girl. "She's too small. Killing her would be… unsightly. Unfit for my image."

Drakonix gasped in relief—but it lasted only a second.

The Dragon King raised his hand. Flames gathered in his palm, crackling with gold and crimson hues. Then, without warning, he directed his dragon breath upward, not at Rebecca… but into the sky itself. The heavens trembled.

The air tore apart as a rift opened—an unstable tear in space, swirling with chaotic light. A portal to an unknown place.

Drakonix's heart sank.

"Father… what are you doing?" he asked, dread rising in his voice like bile.

The Dragon King smiled faintly. "A perfect solution. I will not kill her. But I will cast her out—into the void. Where no one will ever find her."

And before Drakonix could scream, before he could even blink, the Dragon King hurled Rebecca through the rift with a flick of his wrist. Her small form vanished into the chasm, swallowed by the howling winds of space and time. The rift sealed.

Silence.

Drakonix collapsed inwardly. His entire being—shattered. No strength remained in him. No will, no rage. Just despair. Pure, bottomless despair.

"What have you done?" he whispered, so softly it barely escaped his lips.

"I've helped you," the Dragon King replied, already turning away. "By reminding you of who you are. A dragon. Not a pet to humans."

Then he left—leaving his son paralyzed and broken midair as the massacre of humanity continued below.

Meanwhile...

"Please! Help us! Somebody! Please!!" came the cries of the dying humans. Their voices, though choked with blood and terror, reached far.

Amid the slaughter, the Celestial King paused.

He felt it—a shift. A surge in his power. It was small, barely noticeable, but there.

And he wasn't alone. Across the battlefield, the Demon King halted, his crimson eyes narrowing. He too had felt it—a subtle but clear increase in his strength.

Their gazes met across the carnage.

An unspoken realization passed between them.

The pleas of the humans—their desperate hope for salvation—had empowered the Celestial King. While their fear, thick and palpable, had strengthened the Demon King.

Together, they turned inward, searching for confirmation.

It was true. The more the humans believed in the Celestial King, the more divine energy he received. The more they feared the Demon King, the darker and stronger his power became.

They smiled—two predators tasting a new flavor of prey.

The humans could no longer be wiped out.

Not out of mercy. Not out of regret.

But because they were useful.

"Stop," the Celestial King finally said, stepping forward. "This is enough. The message has been sent."

The Titan King turned, surprised. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," the Celestial King said smoothly, "if we wipe them all out, we become the villains. History will remember this not as justice—but cowardice. An entire coalition of major races, annihilating a lesser race because of fear? It'll stain our legacy."

He shrugged. "Besides… there are better ways to make use of them."

A chill silence followed.

Then—the Dragon King returned.

"What nonsense are you spouting now?" he asked, his tone dark as ever. His golden eyes bored into the Celestial King, unreadable, yet threatening.

The battlefield grew still once more. Tension rippled like static across the broken sky.