The next day, the Draconis Kingdom was abuzz with excitement.

Throngs of draconians, their anticipation palpable, rushed toward the capital to witness what they believed would be the spectacle of the new Bloodburn King’s downfall. Their conversations were filled with mockery and predictions of the young king’s demise.

“They say the alien brat thought he could challenge us,” one draconian jeered to another as they made their way through the bustling streets.

“Coming all this way just to die a fool’s death,” laughed another, “He should’ve stayed in his little kingdom. We’d have crushed them easily in a war. But this is much more entertaining – watching the brat swatted to death right before our eyes!”

Amidst the raucous crowd, a note of confusion arose regarding the unusual setting of the event, “Strange that the king would choose to announce it here in a casual setting, not in one of our grand arenas,” remarked a draconian elder, his brow furrowed in curiosity.

Meanwhile, in the heart of the Draconis capital, a temporary, elevated, and grand platform had been erected.

Asher stood at its center, his posture calm and composed, betraying no sign of the tension that permeated the air. Behind him stood Eradicator, her presence a silent but dependable support.

In the seats arranged around the platform, Naida, Leonidas, Silvan, Caelum, and Oberon were seated, their expressions ranging from concern and vigilance to schadenfreude. “This is too much! They are treating us like dirt, especially our king. Letting our king stand out here in the sun for the announcement instead of the throne hall is taking it too far,” Leonidas grumbled with gritted teeth.

“We just have to endure it for the time being. The stronger ones always get to dictate rules,” Caelum sighed.

“I still don’t understand why our king wanted to accept this. He should have just ignored it,” Leonidas said with a shake of his head.

“Because that would show he isn’t fit enough to be a king by endangering the peace of our kingdom. As far as the world is concerned, we are responsible for almost violating the pact and should make up for it. Otherwise, it would give the draconians an excuse to wage war or deal a severe blow to our kingdom, which we aren’t ready to endure right now,” Silvan explained.

“Prince Silvan is right. But this is also a good chance for our king to establish his authority and power. If he is able to overcome what these draconians are going to throw at him, then his status as a king will rise to great heights, and the draconians will lose enough face to not challenge us again for a long while,” Naida said with a light smile, making Leonidas raise his brows, realising he never thought about it like that.

The platform was surrounded by draconian elders and officials, each casting contemptuous glances at Asher. The nobility of the Draconis Kingdom, including the numerous sons and daughters of King Drakar, were present in large numbers, their eyes fixed on the scene before them.

Asher could see them blatantly jeering at him, though he didn’t pay mind to these nobodies. He heard that these princes and princesses were numbered according to their worth in the kingdom.

The 99th prince would be considered trash compared to the 50th prince. And so he could tell that Rhygar stood above them all, and it was no surprise since he was the son of the Queen Consort. After Agonon’s death, he was the only one left.

Even if there was a prince stronger than him, it would be hard for that prince to become the favorite of his king. Not unless his mother could somehow overshadow the Queen Consort which was impossible according to various rumors.

The murmuring crowd surrounding the platform fell into an abrupt, reverent silence as several winged figures descended gracefully from the sky. The Royal Usher stepped forward, his voice booming across the gathered crowd,

“Hear me, people of the realm, nobles, and commoners, bear witness to the august arrival of our overlords, the embodiment of our nation’s glory and might!”

He paused, allowing the anticipation to build, as the royal family approached the edge of the platform.

“Presenting his majesty, King Drakar, the Ruler of the North, the bearer of the Dracan Blood and descendant of the ancient bloodline of Drakaris!”

The crowd’s murmurs swell into a reverent hush as King Drakar’s feet finally touched the platform, his powerful wings slowly folding on themselves.

His commanding presence dwarfed the entire area. Every inch of him spoke of raw power and dominance. His face was chiseled, with sharp, aristocratic features. A pronounced jawline served as a foundation for lips that wore a cold expression.

Atop his head sat a thick mane of hair, pitch black, cascading down to the nape of his neck. Contrasting with the blackness of his hair, a beard traced his jaw, neatly trimmed but wild enough to befit his status. Asher narrowed his eyes as Drakar’s gaze fell on him, which seemed to try to peel back layers of his soul.

Just his gaze alone could have been overwhelming for any ordinary soul, not just in physical terms but in the sheer force of personality he exuded. However, Asher’s gaze didn’t falter as he met Drakar’s gaze head-on. This wasn’t the first time he was having a stare-down with an old monster.

Drakar narrowed his eyes upon seeing how this brat didn’t even flinch under his gaze. But the corners of his lips only curved upwards slightly as he walked towards his throne.

“Behold, her grace, Queen Consort Lysandra, the Dark Star of the Crimson Skies, the Peerless Sorcerer of the Draconian Realm, Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom, and the Mother of our Nation. ”

Asher raised one of his brow as he saw a menacing beauty descending towards the platform.

Her face was delicately sculpted, a harmonious blend of soft curves and regal sharpness. High cheekbones accentuated almond-shaped eyes. Her attire was the embodiment of dark royalty—a cascading gown of deep red, adorned with shimmering sapphire embellishments that mirrored the vastness of the night sky. The fabric hugged her hourglass figure, accentuating her well-endowed bust with a deep cleavage, while flowing outwards in a sea of silken threads.

Framing her face was a cascade of silvery-lavender hair that flowed down her back, reaching her waist in gentle waves, a silken curtain that shimmered with every movement.

While most of her face was as pale and delicate as porcelain, intricate scales of luminous, dark silver graced the sides and covered her wings, shimmering softly. Asher could see that her beauty only added to the aura of overwhelming danger exuding from her.

However, unlike Rebecca, who wore every emotion on her face, he was unable to read what this woman was thinking or feeling.

Her entire face was like a layer of frost, and the sharpness in her fiery eyes could make one feel as if she was going to stare them to death.

“And let the skies and the realm rejoice in the presence of his highness, Prince Rhygar, the Scion of Valor, the Young Dracan, Heir to the Throne of Draconis, and the Future Darkness of the Kingdom.”

Rhygar stood tall as he descended on the platform and walked to his seat before giving a mocking glance at Asher.

As these regal figures descended, the draconians around the perimeter of the platform kowtowed in unison, their heads touching the ground in a display of absolute subservience. The nobles and officials seated on the platform hastily stood and bowed deeply, maintaining their position of deference until the royal family had taken their seats in the most elevated section of the platform.

Once seated, King Drakar raised his hand, signaling for the crowd to rise. The nobles and officials returned to their seats, their eyes fixed on the royal family, particularly on Drakar, who now held the attention of all present.

Asher, standing at the center of the platform, felt the intense gaze of Lysandra upon him. Her fiery and cold red eyes seemed to pierce through him, laden with a barely restrained killing intent. It seemed as if she could no longer hold back from conveying what she wanted to do to him and that was no surprise since he had heard that Agonon was the apple of her eye.

He could feel her urge to kill him on the spot for killing her son, making him give her a brief smile, feeling amused at such a sight.

Despite seeing him smile, Lysandar briefly closed her eyes, and the next moment her expression became indifferent.

“King Asher of the Bloodburn Kingdom… We are truly pleased you accepted our invitation,” Drakar began, his lips curving into a sly, almost mocking smile.

Asher’s response, delivered with a polite smile, was laced with a subtle jab, “The pleasure is all mine to visit a kingdom that managed to become the strongest after technically losing the Great War. It is a commendable achievement, and I am truly impressed to personally witness what this kingdom has achieved,” he said, his words impeccably courteous yet undeniably pointed.’

The crowd’s reaction was immediate. Their expressions darkened, recognizing the bloodburn king’s reference to their shameful past. The draconians were acutely aware of the historical scar left by their perceived loss in the Great War, a conflict halted by the intervention of the supreme dragon, Drakaris.

However, in this moment, they were forced to suppress their indignation at this moment since they could only let their king deal with this.

Drakar, undeterred by Asher’s thinly veiled provocation, let out a low, menacing laugh, “You have quite the silver tongue, King Asher. But let’s get down to settling what you came here for, shall we?” His gaze was intense, scrutinizing Asher’s every move.

“Of course. You wanted a spar to death, right?” Asher asked, his eyebrow raised inquisitively.

“That is up to you to decide,” Drakar replied, his eyes glinting with an unspoken challenge. Beside him, Lysandra raised her chin slightly, her posture exuding a quiet but cold eagerness to what was about to unfold.

Asher’s expression turned quizzical, “Up to me? Am I missing something here?” His question hung in the air, echoing his confusion.

Drakar leaned forward slightly, his demeanor shifting to one of mock generosity, “Since you are now the king of Bloodburn, not just a royal consort, I thought it fitting to offer you an alternative way to honor the pact instead of a crude one that may not befit your status,” he explained, his voice smooth yet carrying an undertone of danger.

“And what way would that be?” Asher inquired, his expression guarded.

“You can either spar to death with all my sons,” Drakar began, eliciting a barely audible grunt of frustration from Leonidas, who muttered under his breath, “That’s unfair! A duel should only be between 2 people.”

“The duel will definitely be only between two. But I think their king is talking about sending one after the next until our king is done with all of them, though you are right…It seems like a way to corner our king,” Silvan said with narrowed eyes. Caelum also held his breath since even the top ten strongest sons of Drakar were Soul Devourers. Sparring against almost hundred of his sons would be suicide.

Oberon smirked and wondered if he would get to see Asher getting his guts pulled out right before his eyes.

After his previous words settled down, Drakar carried on, “Or…you can take part in a trial in the Tower of Torment, which you can see from here…” He gestured towards the east.

The crowd had their eyes widen as they gasped in surprise, not expecting their king to mention the infamous yet legendary Tower of Torment.

But then they smiled gleefully, thinking it was not a bad idea at all.

Naida frowned while Lenoidas gulped and said, “Tell me he is kidding…Not even their ancestors survived it.”

“I am afraid he is not…” Caelum mumbled with a grave expression.

“Maybe he is trying to use our king to finally reveal the secrets hidden inside the tower,” Silvan said with furrowed brows, making the other two exchange grim looks.

Asher followed his gesture and saw a looming dark tower in the distance. The structure bore a striking resemblance to the Tower of Hell in his own kingdom, yet it exuded a different, more ominous aura. Asher was aware of the existence of such a tower in this kingdom but knew it as a place of forgotten legends, as no one had ever successfully cleared it.

Unlike the Tower of Hell, this tower was said to have only a single floor, making it seem more intriguing.

In the long past, many draconians kings and powerful warriors had ventured inside, hoping to achieve the impossible. But when they came out, they ended up soulless.

Since then, a law was passed that this tower should never be attempted by their people since it was not worth losing so many geniuses over the years. And so, for centuries, no draconian had dared to venture inside, and eventually, people stopped thinking about attempting it.

Asher regarded Drakar with narrowed eyes, sensing the layers of intent behind the offer, “Is there any reason why you are offering such an alternative? What do I, or you, stand to gain from it?” Asher asked, his tone laced with suspicion.