The peak of Mount Stormveil was unnaturally calm.
The perpetual, raging storm that had cloaked the summit for centuries had fallen silent, as if holding its breath. Into this sudden stillness, a single figure rose, hovering high above the mountain's jagged peak.
His silver hair swayed gently in the fragile breeze, the strands of his hair were matted with dirt and dried blood. His icy blue eyes, looked down with disdain at the numerous figures emerging from the thick fog below.
His black armour was a testament to the battle he had endured. It was torn, gouged, and scarred all around, and yet, it still clung to his form. The dragon emblem carved on his shoulder remained strangely intact, a final bastion of pride amidst the ruin. From his back stretched a pair of magnificent, crystalline wings, their icy surfaces filled with cracks but still enough to keep him aloft.
Countless wounds mapped a history of violence across his body, and a widening pool of blood spread beneath him, inching further across the stone with every passing second. In his right hand, he held a long glaive, its formidable blade still seeping blood that fell in slow, heavy drops.
Suddenly, one of the figures from below shot upward, moving with a speed that dwarfed the others.
"Vey'rax!" A man known as the Wind Calamity, one of the four Emperors, screamed. A violent burst of wind shredded the air around him as he came to a halt, hovering mid-air and staring up at the dragon in his humanoid form.
A moment later, three more figures arrived, joining the wind emperor in a half-wide circle. A single purpose raged in their eyes as they stared at the last dragon.
"There is nowhere left for you to run! Stop these futile games, and we will make your end swift!" one of them bellowed.
"Run?" Vey'rax's voice was a low rumble, devoid of emotion. "I merely wished to show you the mountain's peak before I kill you." A half-weary smile flashed across his face.
The four emperors laughed, a harsh, discordant sound. They saw through his feigned confidence—his battered body, the ever-growing pool of blood, his faltering wings. His bluff was pathetically weak.
It had been only a month since the coordinated attack from the four human empires began. The dragons, who had foolishly extended their trust to humanity, were blindsided by the betrayal.
Before they could even comprehend the scope of the treachery, they had been hunted and slain from every direction.
Vey'rax was the only one left alive.
His lifelong obsession with warfare and martial prowess had given him an edge, allowing him to survive the initial ambush. But standing alone against the combined might of four empires… even he, the strongest of the dragons, had met his match.
"The mighty dragons, cornered and slaughtered by lesser beings like us! Ha!" another emperor jeered.
"He killed thousands of our soldiers, buried a dozen towns under ice and rubble," a third added, his voice dripping with fury. "Let's take our time and make him suffer for it."
Vey'rax's expression remained impassive, utterly unmoved by their cheap provocations.
"Are you going to talk all day?" he asked, a flicker of boredom in his glacial eyes. "I'm growing tired of hearing humans."
That single question shattered their mocking glee. The laughter died instantly, replaced by a wave of palpable bloodlust. Without a moment's hesitation, they charged.
In that final, defiant moment, Vey'rax unleashed his true power, transforming into his magnificent dragon form.
Deep blue scales, like polished sapphire, spread across his expanding body. His wings stretched to a magnificent hundred feet in span, and his massive form cast a deep shadow over the entire mountain peak, blocking out the golden radiance of the sun.
As he opened his jaw, an enormous wave of crashing ice tore through the air toward his attackers.
But against four emperors, and with his body already pushed past its breaking point, it was not enough.
A spear of condensed wind, conjured by the Wind Emperor, was the first to strike, tearing through his dark navy scales and burying itself deep into his flesh. The other Emperors followed in a synchronised attack, their spells roaring to life as all four elemental forces, fire, earth, water, and wind, crashed against Vey'rax from every direction.
Before he could even retaliate, his already injured wings faltered, and his vision swayed.
The world blurred into a smear of pain and shadows.
"I suppose this is it…" was his final thought as his massive body plummeted, crashing against the mountainside with a ground-shaking thud that heralded complete, utter darkness.
His consciousness had already slipped away as the four emperors laughed maniacally at his fallen form.
"Didn't the legends say dragons were invincible?" the Fire Emperor crowed.
The Water Emperor spat onto the lifeless scales of the last dragon, while the Earth Emperor immediately set to work, using his power to sever the magnificent wings from the corpse.
But in that moment of their triumph, the unnatural silence broke. The eternal storm of Mount Hua returned with a vengeance, howling back to life with a ferocity that dwarfed its previous state. The wind whipped and screamed, as if the mountain itself were mourning.
"Let us return to our empires," the Wind Emperor declared, raising his voice over the gale. "The dragons are no more."
The others hesitated for a moment, the storm's sudden resurgence casting a shadow of unease over their victory. But with the last of the dragon-kind lying dead at their feet, they had no reason to fear… or so they thought.
Vey'rax felt his consciousness drift in an endless, silent darkness. He couldn't see, couldn't feel, couldn't hear. Yet, for some reason, his thoughts persisted, a lone ember in the void.
"I didn't expect death to be this… odd," he mused.
Then, a sudden, violent burst of light seared his vision, followed by a high-pitched ringing in his ears and a faint shiver that ran across a body he could suddenly feel again.
When his senses returned, the view of a damp, unfamiliar forest swam into focus. The sound of rain pattering against leaves filled his ears, and a light, cool breeze caressed a form that felt impossibly small.
"I'm… alive?" he tried to murmur, but instead of a voice, only a low, guttural growl escaped his throat.
The strange sound alarmed him. He whipped his head down, trying to look at his own body, and the sight only deepened his confusion. He was still a dragon, but that was where the familiarity ended. He was now a hatchling, his body no more than forty centimetres tall, covered in soft, blue scales.
"Did I go back in time?" he wondered, but as he scanned the dense, foreign foliage, the answer became obvious. "No. I've never been in this forest before. Then… what is this?"
Before he could continue to question his circumstances, a sudden snap of a twig stole his attention. His head whipped to the side with an instinctual swiftness, and he saw a girl step out from the cover of the trees. She wore a luxurious, long silk dress, decorated with countless golden ornaments that seemed utterly out of place in the wilderness. Her black hair was tied in an intricate, neat style, and her wide blue eyes stared in shock, fixed directly on him.
"A beast?" she murmured, her voice a mixture of fear and fascination.
In that moment, a sudden realisation dawned on Vey'rax.
The humans had a kill on sight order on dragons, if she realises what he is, he is as good as dead.
He flapped his wings, trying to take off, but the moment his small frame rose to the air, the girl dashed forward.
"Where you think you're going?" she asked, raising her arm, and the moment she did, a sudden weakness overtook Vey'rax.
"W-what is going on?" he muttered, but again only a growl came out.
It felt like he lost control over his own body, and before he could even do anything, he fell to the ground with a soft thud.
Then, just as suddenly, a ringing sound cut through his head, followed by a sudden, unnatural light that made up a perfect rectangle, followed by lines of text he could somehow understand.
[Bond Complete!]
[You have been tamed!]