"Are you going to challenge him next?" asked one student, a reptilian being with scales glistening under the academy's lights. He had the appearance of a walking lizard, complete with clawed hands and a tail swaying behind him.
Leonart, the Dragonborn, stood at the center of the group, his golden eyes locked onto Asher's retreating figure. His imposing frame and the faint glimmer of scales across his skin spoke volumes about his heritage. He didn't flinch as he responded, his voice deep and resolute. "My pride won't let me rest until I defeat him and reclaim my number one spot."
Like Tiara before him, Leonart had once been a reigning champion in his own academy, a title he wore with pride. But here, in the World Academy, he had lost his top position to Asher. Now, his resolve burned brightly—he would take back what he believed was rightfully his.
The lizard-like student tilted his head. "You better be careful. He's different. Even Tiara couldn't take him down."
Leonart's lips curled into a sharp grin, exposing teeth reminiscent of a predator. "Tiara relied on raw power, but I am a warrior of strategy and strength. He'll fall—just like everyone else who underestimated me."
As the group murmured among themselves, Leonart's gaze never wavered. His eyes followed Asher until he disappeared from sight, a silent promise burning in his mind: Soon.
A few days later, the training grounds buzzed with energy as students sparred, trained, and honed their skills. Asher stood at the edge, observing the scene, his expression calm as always. Beside him, Freya was busy stretching, preparing for her own training session.
From across the grounds, Leonart approached with deliberate steps, his towering frame and dragon-like features commanding attention. The crowd parted instinctively, whispers rippling through the air as the Dragonborn made his way toward Asher.
"Asher Magnus," Leonart called, his deep voice carrying over the noise.
Asher turned, raising a brow. "Leonart, right? What do you want?"
Leonart stopped a few feet away, his golden eyes glowing faintly. "I'm challenging you to a duel."
Asher sighed, already shaking his head. "Not interested. I've had my share of duels this week."
The murmurs around them grew louder, the crowd clearly intrigued by the tension between the academy's top-ranked students. Leonart's jaw tightened, but he didn't back down. "Are you refusing because you're afraid?"
Asher smirked, his tone light but cutting. "Afraid? No. Just not interested in wasting my time."
Leonart growled softly, his claws flexing. "Then let me make it worth your while." He reached into his bag and pulled out a small, ornate chest. Opening it, he revealed a glimmering, golden scale, pulsating with faint energy.
The crowd gasped. Freya's eyes widened as she leaned closer to Asher. "That's a Dragonlord's Scale. Those are almost impossible to find!"
Asher's expression shifted, his usual indifference giving way to mild curiosity. "You're offering that just to fight me?"
Leonart nodded firmly. "It's more than a treasure. It's a key to one of the Dragon Tombs on my home continent. Win, and it's yours."
Asher crossed his arms, his gaze narrowing as he studied Leonart. "And if you win?"
"You admit I'm the stronger warrior and step down from the top rank," Leonart said, his voice steady and unwavering.
The silence that followed was palpable. Finally, Asher nodded, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Alright, you've got my attention. I accept your challenge."
Leonart grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the sunlight. "Good. Meet me in the arena tomorrow."
As the crowd erupted with excitement, Freya gave Asher a sideways glance. "Now that is something one can't resist."
Asher shrugged. "I'm not passing up a chance like that."
The Dragon Tomb, a fabled dungeon located in the heart of the Dragon Beast Continent, was not just any dungeon. It was an ancient, icy expanse filled with the remnants of mighty dragons—bones, scales, and relics of their immense power. The tomb was a revered place, accessible to anyone regardless of their rank or strength, making it an alluring destination for adventurers and warriors from across the world.
The dungeon was particularly significant to the Dragonborn and the Dragon Beast clans. They used it as a sacred ground for awakening and evolving their dragon bloodlines. Once a year, the tomb opened for a single month, during which challengers entered to claim dragon blood relics and ascend their powers. It was a test of both courage and skill, as the tomb's traps and lingering dragon spirits were not to be trifled with.
For Asher, the prospect of entering the Dragon Tomb wasn't just about treasure—it was an opportunity to gain something rare and invaluable: Dragon Essence. With his growing mastery of his abilities, such a resource could amplify his strength beyond imagination.
Leonhart turned and walked away, his tail swaying slightly, an air of confidence following him. Asher remained composed, quietly preparing for what promised to be a formidable challenge. The latest episodes are on the Novel~Fire. (n)et
On the day of the duel, the arena was alive with hushed anticipation. Leonhart stood at the center, his red armor catching the sunlight, while his massive greatsword rested upright in the ground beside him, an imposing sight that left little doubt about his strength.
Asher stepped into the arena in his plain academy uniform, unbothered by the lack of elaborate protection.
Leonhart's gaze swept over him. "No armor?" he asked, his voice low but carrying.
"I don't need it," Asher answered, his tone even and unconcerned.
Leonhart let out a quiet chuckle, his lips curling into a faint smirk. He grasped his greatsword and raised it, the weighty blade pointing toward Asher. "Have it your way," he said simply.
Asher extended a hand, and in an instant, the crimson glow of his Blood Scythe materialized. This time, it carried a faint sheen of energy—an almost imperceptible aura that rippled through the air. Asher had made his preparations; he would not take his opponent lightly.
The air between them grew charged as their auras clashed silently, an invisible struggle playing out before the first strike. Around them, the audience fell quiet, all eyes locked on the two figures in the arena. The duel began with no further words exchanged.