After Drakion and his gang left behind a wave of shock and confusion among the onlookers, the crowd scrambled to find a way across the bridge. Eventually, someone suggested using the Draconic materials in their possession.
When they did so, what happened next was... surprising.
"Wait... why does it look like the black dragon is being ganged up on?"
Drakion stood in the midst of the dragons—surrounded, their cold eyes and surging killing intent locked solely on him. Since he had attacked one of them, he had stirred the wrath of all. Their verdict was unanimous: only death would redeem the offense. That was their motive.
The crowd watched in stunned silence, their eyes wide with disbelief.
Dragons turning against one another? Unheard of.
"If they’re ganging up on him, then that black dragon must have done something... forbidden."
"Yeah... maybe he broke some ancient law of the dragon clan."
"But isn’t this... an opportunity?"
"Come closer—let me tell you."
Whispers spread like wildfire as the onlookers murmured among themselves, discussing how Drakion’s own kin were now trying to kill him.
"Black Dragon! I’m sure you can hear us, right?"
Drakion turned his golden gaze to a human who stepped forward from the crowd—his expression smug with arrogant confidence.
"How about you become our pet? We’ll help you tame those dragons... and maybe even make you our companion."
The man grinned, a rotund figure cloaked in expensive robes. His bearing had the kind of ostentatious pride that only wealth and ignorance could breed.
The crowd roared with approval. Several others came forward, echoing the suggestion, urging Drakion to submit.
But the moment Drakion heard those words, something ancient stirred within him.
An unspeakable rage surged from the depths of his blood, boiling into wrath.
His golden eyes darkened.
Drakion unleashed a furious Draconic roar that split the air like a rift in reality. Standing before the humans, his massive form loomed with chilling silence. And yet... the fools remained oblivious. They dared to reach toward him, calling him "Good boy," as if he were some domesticated beast.
They had no idea the storm they had invited.
"Devouring Dragon Art: Devouring Breath!"
The next instant, Drakion opened his massive jaws. What erupted was not fire—nor lightning—but a breath of darkness. A black inferno that twisted the air itself, devouring the very Originat of the surroundings.
The Devouring Breath surged toward the arrogant fat man who had spoken first. Smiling smugly, the man reached out, utterly unaware of the danger. The breath felt welcoming—warm, even. There was no threatening aura. No warning.
Before he could even scream, the Devouring Breath enveloped him. There was no ash. No trace. He was consumed. Erased from existence.
The other dragons, now fully awakened, roared in fury and joined Drakion in a vengeful assault.
Though they had been hostile toward Drakion moments ago, the humans’ arrogance had unified them in purpose. The insult of being called pets ignited a rage that eclipsed all other emotions. For now, Drakion was no longer the enemy—they would deal with him later. These humans, however... would die first.
Drakion and the dragons charged, their roars thunderclaps of wrath as they tore into the would-be tamers. Screams filled the air as blood rained and corpses fell. Those who hadn’t been caught in the initial onslaught fled—rushing back toward the bridge, hearts pounding with terror.
Panic broke out among the survivors.
"Who said it?! Who talked about taming dragons? Now we’re all doomed!"
"We were only trying to help that lone dragon! How could we have known?"
"Lies! You just wanted power!"
"Don’t blame us! You were cheering too!"
Arguments and accusations flew as people trampled over one another, desperately carrying their Draconic materials for protection. Many didn’t forget to loot the fallen—picking through corpses, stuffing valuables into their pockets as they retreated in disgrace.
When the dust settled, silence fell.
Corpses littered the ground. The stench of death and burnt essence clung to the air.
Drakion stood amidst it all and snorted coldly.
He completely agreed with the idea of snapping out of that illusion earlier.
He turned to the dragons still watching him with icy stares, his voice low and edged with challenge.
"Shall we continue where we left off?"
Drakion smiled darkly as he looked at them. Now that he was in his Draconic form, he could finally test his dragon skills—freely, without strain or restriction.
"Devouring Dragon Art: Ruinous Tail Sweep!"
His massive tail began to spin with violent momentum before slamming down upon the earth with an earthshaking crash. A deafening shockwave exploded outward as the ground trembled, and the gathered dragons were hurled into the air, crashing heavily onto the bloodstained soil.
But they didn’t stop there.
They retaliated instantly, lunging forward, launching skill after skill at Drakion.
"Devouring Art: Devourer’s Barrier!"
Every attack struck the barrier surrounding him—but the next moment, to their utter disbelief, their own force rebounded. The barrier twisted and reversed the strikes with devastating precision, sending them flying once again.
Suddenly, a dark green mist crept toward Drakion, slithering through the air like a venomous serpent.
"Damn... I forgot about them."
The Poison Dragon twin sisters. They hadn’t joined the direct melee, and that oversight now came at a price.
Drakion’s eyes narrowed as he saw the creeping mist—poison, thick and noxious. He reinforced the Devourer’s Barrier, absorbing the deadly fog before shifting positions.
"Devouring Void Step!"
He vanished from where he stood, reappearing behind the twins in a blur of speed and shadow.
He clenched his claws.
He couldn’t release the absorbed poison—not without knowing its nature. He refused to risk harming his clan members, even if they were momentarily hostile.
"Drax, I’m at a disadvantage here! Isn’t there another way to handle this?"
Drakion’s voice echoed within his mind, strained as the pressure mounted with the twins now actively joining the battle.
"There is a way... but it means you’ll take damage."
Drax’s voice was steady, grim.
"Bring it on. Injuries don’t matter in a situation !" Drakion roared, his blood burning with resolve.
"Alright, then do this—"
Before Drax finished, Drakion let out a thunderous roar and charged straight into the heart of the enemy.
Dragon skills exploded toward him from all directions.
"Draconic Art: Dragon Transformation!"
Drakion shifted into his half-Draconic form, his mask still etched across his face like a symbol of war. The Devourer’s Barrier flared, encasing his entire body in an impenetrable shield. Then, in a flash, he activated Devouring Void Step, vanishing once more and reappearing behind the dragons.
Without hesitation, he morphed again—back into his full dragon form.
His Draconic body flared with an overwhelming aura. It radiated majesty. Divinity. Authority.
Royalty. Sacred. Inviolable.
The very air trembled beneath the pressure—the unmistakable pressure of a Dragon Emperor.
"Devouring Dragon Art: Ruinous Tail Sweep!"
His colossal tail spun like a blade of destruction before slamming into one of the dragons—caught off guard—sending them crashing across the ground with a sickening impact.
But far beyond the battlefield...
Unseen by all, a set of ancient, forgotten eyes slowly opened.
As Drakion released his Dragon Emperor aura, something had awakened.
Those eyes... gazed toward him.
"Finally," a voice whispered from the void.
A shiver crept down Drakion’s spine.
He felt it—a gaze, ancient and penetrating, watching him from the direction where the skeletal dragons rested. He turned slightly, instincts flaring. The air was heavy. Ominous.
He glanced back at the dragon he’d struck.
Blood flowed from her head—and then his heart sank.
But—surprisingly—her aura began to fade. The red glow in her eyes dimmed. Sanity returned to her gaze.
Her consciousness had returned.
Drakion breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he saw the light return to Lizzy’s eyes. At last, he had discovered the path to saving his dragon brethren.
"Master, what happened?" Lizzy asked, her voice edged with concern as she looked around at the dragons now encircling Drakion with cold hostility.
"Long story," Drakion replied, his tone grim. "But to cut it short—something is influencing you all. Just help me hold them down."
Lizzy nodded. She didn’t ask any further questions; the actions of the dragons had already spoken louder than words ever could. There was no reality where dragons of their kind would turn against Drakion—unless they were no longer the beings they once were.
Without hesitation, Lizzy leapt back into battle, fighting alongside Drakion—not to destroy, but to save. Together, they tackled the other dragons, moving with speed and restraint, each strike aimed at subduing rather than slaying.
Meanwhile, the humans had returned.
They watched the unfolding chaos with widened eyes and hushed gasps, stunned by the sight of living dragons—and more so, watching those dragons locked in combat with one another.
Among them, Leo and the others finally arrived. They hadn’t come with the first group, but now stood frozen as the scene played out before them like a myth come to life.
They were witnessing legends at war.
Well, I’ve decided to spice things up a bit.
The first three readers to reach 10k fan value will get the chance to use their pen name—or real name—for the Heir of the Progenitor Dragons.
As we know, the Progenitor Dragons are somehow dead, but their heir will soon emerge to support Drakion.
And remember: the Devouring Dragon Heir doesn’t exist—because Drakion himself is that heir.