"Yaksha!"
Amidst the deep, resounding cry, a figure—tall with a broad waist, skin of deep gray, hair like fluffy bluish-green seaweed, massive eyes, and sharp, long fangs protruding from the corners of his mouth, wielding a steel trident that pulsed with green flames—swiftly arrived before the Dragon Palace.
"Dragon King!"
Kneeling, the Patrolling Night Yaksha bowed his head in acknowledgment.
"My son is dead! You are to lead men and retrieve his body without fail!"
From the depths of the Dragon Palace, an enormous figure with millstone-sized eyes the color of shattered gold fixed him with a cold, savage gaze. It spat out a copper disk.
The copper disk appeared empty. Yet, a dragon insignia upon it continuously shifted direction, as if offering guidance.
"This subordinate obeys! Shall I also bring back the fiend who murdered His Highness?"
"That is irrelevant! What matters is my Dragon Blood! My Dragon Blood!"
