The sun had barely risen when the skies above the quiet mountain town split apart.
"Roarrrr!"
A deafening roar shook the heavens, and the villagers fell to their knees in terror.
Dozens of warships pierced through the clouds, their hulls carved with dragon runes that glowed like molten gold. At their forefront, armored dragoons in scaled battle-gear descended, each mounted upon wyverns that bellowed fire into the morning air.
The townsmen screamed, scattering like ants.
At the head of the squad was a man with scales of silver crawling up his jawline, his eyes vertical slits that gleamed with cold superiority. His armor shimmered with celestial light, and in his hand he carried a spear shaped like a dragon fang.
"By decree of the Celestial Dragon Emperor," the man's voice boomed, shaking the town square, "the bearer of the Progenitor's bloodline is to be taken into imperial custody. Resistance will be treated as rebellion!"
