The battlefield stretched farther than the eye could see, a wasteland of shattered mountains, scorched forests, and rivers boiled to steaming torrents. Smoke swirled in the sky, carrying the screams of the fallen like a haunting symphony that even dragons could hear. Lightning streaked across the clouds as if the heavens themselves protested the carnage below.
Kael's crimson eyes cut through the haze, scanning the chaos. His sword, chipped and scorched from countless clashes, pulsed with the faint glow of the latent Primordial power stirring within him. Every inch of him ached from battle, every muscle screamed from exertion, yet his stance was unwavering. Around him, Selara, Nyxara, and Aurielle fought with unmatched ferocity, their wounds and exhaustion forgotten as they moved as extensions of his will.
The Elites had been pushed back, but the true threat, Malrik, stepped into the fray. The ground seemed to warp beneath him, cracked and scorched as if it could not bear the weight of his presence. His obsidian greatsword pulsed with dark runes that writhed like living things, and crimson light burned behind the horned helm that crowned his head.
"You've survived longer than I expected, Son of No Name," Malrik growled, voice a deep rumble felt more than heard. "But this… this is where everything ends."
Kael's jaw tightened. His hand trembled slightly, not from fear but from the crushing responsibility of the moment, the lives depending on him, and the fury of every injustice he had endured. His aura flared, lighting the battlefield in a crimson inferno. "No. This is where it begins."
The clash erupted instantly. Malrik swung, a strike so massive it cleaved a nearby hill in half. Kael met it head-on, sparks flying, the shockwave throwing soldiers, dragons, and beasts alike. The sound was deafening, like the roar of a dozen mountains collapsing.
Selara erupted into her sapphire-scaled dragon form, soaring above the battlefield with a roar that could fracture mountains. She unleashed torrents of blue fire at the molten-eyed sorcerer, who countered with storms of fire and lightning, their battle igniting the sky in a maelstrom of flame and arcane energy.
Nyxara streaked across the battlefield, golden flames trailing her like comets. She clashed with the black-feathered scythe-wielder, their strikes sending ripples of holy fire and shadow crashing against each other. The sound of clashing magic was like the beating of a thousand war drums.
Aurielle twirled amidst chaos, laughing despite the blood streaking her face. She danced between the spear-wielder and the assassin, striking with surgical precision, forcing them to divide their attention. "You boys should really learn to take turns!" she teased, dodging a lethal blow with a backflip that left the ground scorched beneath her.
Kael parried again and again, each swing of his blade leaving his arms trembling. The assassin emerged from the shadows, striking at his flank, but Kael twisted, catching the assassin's wrist mid-strike and flipping him into the spear-wielder. Sparks flew as metal met metal, and the assassin hissed in frustration before vanishing into shadows once more.
The ground quaked beneath Kael as Malrik pressed forward, each strike carrying the weight of annihilation. Kael's vision blurred from exhaustion, blood running from multiple cuts, yet a surge of instinct—a memory of his mother, of his suffering in the mountains, of the cruelty he had endured—lit the fire within him. He could feel the Primordial Dragon stirring, whispering in a voice older than time itself, urging him to awaken fully.
Selara roared as she clashed with the sorcerer, wings whipping, claws tearing through rock and magic alike. A bolt of lightning seared her wing, yet she pressed forward, fueled by raw determination. "I… will… not…" she roared, teeth bared. "…let him fall!"
Nyxara's laughter rang sharp even as she was battered. "Kael… you better not die before I get my fun!" Flames blazed around her as she struck down enemies with brutal precision, her golden fire carving a path through the chaos.
Aurielle twirled with deadly grace, dodging and striking, her playful smirk never leaving her lips. "Not today, boys. You won't ruin our dragon's day!"
Kael's heart surged at their trust, their faith in him. This was not just a battle of strength—it was a war of bonds, of hearts intertwined in the furnace of survival. He would not fail them.
A low hum filled Kael's mind. The system flickered at the edge of his vision:
[Vitality critically low. Latent power detected. Suggest activation.]
He ignored it for a moment, letting the fire of emotion and rage swell inside him. He did not need the system to fight—he needed it to guide him only if he truly faltered. The Primordial Dragon stirred, awakening as the culmination of Kael's suffering, training, and growth over countless years.
Malrik's strikes became faster, sharper, each one a test of Kael's endurance. The obsidian blade cut air like a scythe through wheat, forcing Kael to push beyond the limits of pain. Blood ran freely down Kael's arms, his robes tattered, yet he rose with every strike, meeting Malrik head-on with renewed fury.
The battlefield itself seemed to respond. Mountains split, rivers boiled, the sky ripped open with lightning and firestorms. The armies of humans, elves, dwarves, orcs, and fae watched in awe, witnessing a power beyond comprehension. Dragons soared above, their wings reflecting the fire and lightning below, their cries of fear and respect echoing across the plains.
Kael's aura flared brighter, wings sprouting along his back, scales forming like armor of molten crimson. Memories of the first dragons—ancient, eternal, wielders of magic before the dawn of civilization—flooded his mind. Every strike he now delivered carried the force of creation itself. Every movement was lightning, fire, and fury incarnate.
Malrik staggered, surprised. "Impossible… no mortal—no dragon—should wield such power…"
Kael's voice was calm, resonating with the weight of eons. "I am no mere dragon. I am the son of the Primordial Emperor, and this… is my world."
The final clash erupted. Kael's sword collided with Malrik's obsidian blade, and the resulting explosion of force shattered mountains, sent shockwaves across the battlefield, and tore a canyon across the earth. The women fought in perfect synchronization: Selara's firestorms created shields and openings, Nyxara's flames burned enemies to ash, and Aurielle's twin blades cut through the Elites trying to interfere.
Malrik screamed, the dark runes of his blade flaring as he tried to resist the onslaught. Kael's power, now fully awakened, surged through him like a tidal wave. Every wound, every cut, every bruise was pushed aside by the unstoppable force of the Primordial Dragon.
Finally, Kael struck. His blade pierced Malrik's chest, the runes shattering, darkness evaporating like mist under the morning sun. Malrik fell, a scream lost to the wind, his body consumed by the explosion of Kael's primordial power. The battlefield stilled. Smoke hung thick in the air, rivers of lava cooled, and silence fell like a curtain over the devastation.
Kael stood amidst the ruin, wings outstretched, aura blazing like the first sunrise. His women knelt by his side, bloodied but alive, faces alight with awe and relief.
Selara whispered, trembling, "Kael… you… you're… beyond… anything I imagined."
Nyxara laughed, tears streaking her face. "I thought I was strong… but you… you're more than any legend could ever hope to be."
Aurielle smirked, wiping blood from her lips. "Well… you owe me at least a dozen dates for surviving this, Dragon King."
Kael's lips curved into a rare smile. "I'll give you every moment you deserve."
And far above, unseen by mortal eyes, the winds carried whispers from shadows, the first stirrings of Varyon's grand plan, a threat greater than any single dragon, warrior, or kingdom… waiting for its moment.
The war had ended, but the world was far from safe. And Kael, the Primordial Dragon, had only begun to awaken.