System's POV

Inside Solvaran City, located in the central area of the Cygni Continent…

Two days had passed since the six gates opened.

Everyone thought that a war would immediately start, but nothing of the sort happened.

Factions from both sides of the Wanderers and the Jinns had come to an unspoken agreement—neither would antagonize the other for a short period of time.

Prince Aurelion, the Crown Prince of the Dragonkin, sat on a golden throne as he looked down at the leaders of the Jinns that he had invited to his city.

“Zepharion, I am very disappointed in you,” Prince Aurelion said. “You’ve been here for several weeks, and you still haven’t conquered this land as your own? Truly pathetic. Of course… I didn’t expect much from the Garuda Empire from the start.”

The contempt in the Crown Prince’s tone was very obvious. However, instead of being angry, Prince Zepharion only chuckled.

“As expected of the Prince of the Dragonkin,” Prince Zepharion replied. “You’re still so arrogant despite not knowing the kind of enemy you will be facing in the future.”

“Is that the excuse of a weakling?” Prince Aurelion sneered.

“Start talking once you conquer this entire continent.” Prince Zepharion sneered back. “I’d like to see where this confidence of yours is coming from.”

Suddenly, a powerful pressure descended inside the makeshift throne room, forcing the Jinn Leaders to kneel on the ground.

More than half knelt, while the rest gritted their teeth as they endured the pressure that was pressing on their bodies.

Blood pooled at the corner of Prince Zepharion’s lips, but he remained smiling. It was common for Dragonkins to make a fuss like this, given their innate superiority complex that wished for everyone in the world to kneel before them.

Princess Xynalia looked very pale, but just like Prince Zepharion, she remained standing.

General Varrak cursed himself as he knelt on the floor, unable to resist the force that was descending on him.

However, to his surprise, Prince Zorren remained standing, even though the Prince was weaker than him.

There was no way that the Skavari Prince would kneel to anyone aside from his Master, Zion.

Even if he were to die now, he would never kneel!

“At least some of you have some backbone,” Prince Aurelion commented, eyeing Prince Zorren a few seconds longer than most.

“Are you done with your ego-trip?” Prince Zepharion wiped the blood at the corner of his lips with a handkerchief. “Surely, you didn’t invite us here for this farce, right?”

Prince Aurelion narrowed his eyes before raising his right hand to lightly tap on the armrest of his throne.

“I invited all of you here to give you a choice,” Prince Aurelion stated. “Since we all came from the same homeworld, I am willing to make you all my temporary subordinates. Together, we will conquer this world under my banner.”

The Crown Prince of the Garuda Empire sneered at the arrogant Dragonkin, who was sitting on his golden throne.

He was very tempted to say that he would rather die than become Prince Aurelion’s subordinate, but he held back.

Prince Zepharion knew that he wasn’t in the position to act arrogantly since he didn’t have the power to back it up.

Arrogance without power was not arrogance but stupidity.

The leaders who had managed to stand straight despite the pressure exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable.

The room, once grand and ceremonial, now pulsed with quiet hostility.

“I see,” Prince Zepharion said calmly. “So this is not a negotiation, but a declaration of dominance.”

“No,” Prince Aurelion replied, his voice dripping with regal certainty. “It is a declaration of inevitability.”

The Dragonkin Prince leaned forward slightly, golden eyes gleaming.

“You may delay the tide, Zepharion. You may even ride it for a time. But in the end, everything drowns beneath the Dragon’s Authority.”

The Garuda Prince chuckled again, this time more bitter than amused.

“Then perhaps, I’ll learn to fly above it,” Prince Zepharion said with contempt “You claim that you and your army are powerful, and yet I have every reason to believe that you will suffer a loss in your first campaign in this world.

“No. I can already see it. You, kneeling and begging to be spared under the foot of a young human who hasn’t even lived past two decades. I’ll make sure to have my historians write that scene, so it will be preserved through all eternity.”

A tense silence followed, one where even breathing felt like a risk.

It was Princess Xynalia who broke it. Her voice, though soft, rang out with clarity.

“Temporary subordinates?” Princess Xynalia smiled faintly. “And when conquest is achieved? What then, Prince Aurelion? Will you discard us like old armor? Or will we be permitted to bask in your golden light like some obedient lapdogs?”

Although she spoke calmly, everyone could tell that sharp barbs were added in her words.

The Crown Prince’s gaze turned to her, sharp as the edge of a blade.

“That depends on whether you and your kin will be useful,” Prince Aurelion replied. “If you become my bed warmer, I will at least spare your sisters.”

Princess Xynalia suddenly thought of the teenage boy who was somewhere on the same continent out there.

He wasn’t exuding a mighty pressure, nor was he forcing anyone to kneel and become his subordinates.

However, his quiet strength, which seemed bottomless, had already made a mark in the princess’ heart and mind.

“You’re not worthy,” Princess Xynalia declared, making everyone in the room, including Prince Zepharion, look at her in disbelief.

Everyone didn’t like the Dragonkin Prince, but they also knew that outright defying him wasn’t something that the Princess of the Velmoria Kingdom could do.

Prince Zepharion could still get away with it since the Garuda Empire wasn’t weak and could hold its ground.

Even the Dragonkin knew that they would have to pay a price if they were to declare war against them.

Prince Zorren also had had enough, so he scoffed.

“You speak of conquest, but you speak alone,” Prince Zorren spat. “You want unity under your flag? Then prove that you are capable of leading us. Fight against the Wanderers once, and earn victory. If you can do that, I wouldn’t mind kneeling to become your subordinate.”

A mere Majin Prince dared to act tough in front of him?

His Master had never treated others as if they were his slaves.

Also, Prince Zorren was very confident that once the Dragonkin faced his Master, they would understand that in the face of Thirteen’s cunning mind, even an army of their size was nothing!

A low growl echoed in the room.

The guards stationed near the back tensed, hands drifting toward their weapons as the pressure that had filled the air suddenly cracked, like glass strained to its limit.

Aurelion slowly rose from his throne, each movement measured and deliberate.

His golden eyes narrowed on Prince Zorren, then swept to Princess Xynalia, as if committing their faces to memory.

“You dare speak of worth to a Dragonkin?” Aurelion’s voice was low, cold. “You two are insects who’ve mistaken my silence for tolerance.”

“And you,” Prince Aurelion turned his gaze back to Zepharion, “laughing like a fool standing at the edge of shame and defeat.”

Without another word, Aurelion raised one hand, and the pressure increased tenfold.

The marble floor cracked beneath several Jinns, groaning under the sheer weight of the Dragonkin’s raw spiritual power.

One of the younger Jinn leaders collapsed entirely, coughing up blood as his forehead slammed into the ground.

Prince Zorren remained standing, though his knees trembled.

Princess Xynalia’s breath grew ragged, but she held her ground, eyes unyielding.

And then, just as quickly as it began, the pressure vanished.

Prince Aurelion sat back down.

“Let this be your final warning,” Prince Aurelion said coolly. “The next time someone speaks out of turn, they’ll leave in pieces.”

The chamber remained silent. No one dared to speak.

But the tension didn’t mean one side was fearful.

The pressure simply built up from the crack in the foundation of Aurelion’s assumed dominance.

It was the first sign of fracture.

A moment later, a hooded Dragonkin soldier knelt beside the throne, whispering something into the prince’s ear.

Prince Aurelion’s expression didn’t change, but a faint spark of interest flashed in his eyes.

“I see,” Prince Aurelion muttered.

He then looked down at the assembled guests once more.

“It seems this world is more interesting than I expected,” Prince Aurelion continued. “The southern scouting battalion I have sent has vanished without a trace.”

The hall stirred at that.

“Vanished?” Princess Xynalia echoed.

“No bodies,” Prince Aurelion confirmed as if the loss of a scouting party didn’t mean much to him. “There were no survivors, but also no signs of combat.”

Prince Zepharion’s smirk returned. “Perhaps the human boy I mentioned has already started writing his story.”

Prince Zorren smiled grimly. “Then I hope your historians are fast, Prince Aurelion. Because you may only have a few chapters left.”

He was one of the Demons who answered to Thirteen.

So, everything that was happening now was also being relayed to his Master.

The Crown Prince of the Dragonkin didn’t respond to the provocations that were coming from the losers who were looking up to him.

But he didn’t need to.

Because somewhere beyond the horizon, a pair of calm green eyes looked in the direction of Solvaran City.

And this person wouldn’t kneel to anyone.

Not even to Fate, which he vowed to beat in her own game.

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