Chapter 42: The Sovereign’s Terror
"What should we do now, Master?" Draven asked, his voice trembling. "How could someone else learn the Crown of Force? You told me only your descendants could master it. Am I not your only descendant?"
The consciousness of the Sovereign Dragon remained silent for a moment.
What he had told this fool was not a lie.
Only his descendants could master the Crown of Force. Not because of talent, but because of the cost.
Throughout history, countless geniuses had attempted to learn the spell. Every one of them had failed.
The greater the talent, the more terrifying the mana consumption became. Without the Crown of Sovereign, mastering the Crown of Force was impossible.
And the Crown of Sovereign itself could only be inherited by his direct bloodline.
At least, that was what the world believed.
There was one truth the Sovereign Dragons had hidden for millions of years. The Crown of Force was never their creation.
It was an inheritance.
An inheritance passed down to their ancestors with a single instruction.
Wait.
Wait until its true owner arrived.
But his ancestors had become greedy.
They spent millions of years researching the spell and eventually created the Crown of Sovereign to forcefully master it.
And with each succession, a warning was passed down. A warning that every Sovereign Dragon remembered.
"When the true owner of the Crown of Force appears, the spell itself will seek its master and struggle to be recognized. When that day comes, do not challenge that individual. Do not covet what belongs to them. Do not stand before them. For those who forcefully grasp the Crown shall lose everything before its rightful sovereign."
The Sovereign Dragon’s consciousness trembled.
He hated it.
He hated that he was afraid, but fear still consumed him.
If the true owner ever learned that the Sovereign Dragons had stolen and abused his inheritance for generations...
The consequences would be unimaginable.
A being capable of making the Crown of Force willingly submit...
That existence was not someone their race could oppose. The Sovereign Dragon made a decision.
He would never think about the Crown of Force again.
And neither would this idiot.
"Forget about the spell," he said quietly.
Draven froze.
"Why?" he asked immediately. "We can find the thief who stole it and take it back."
Killing intent flashed in his eyes. The next second, he screamed. Pain exploded through his soul.
It felt as if millions of arrows had pierced him at once.
"AAARGH!"
His pores burst open. Blood seeped from his skin. Even strands of flesh began to tear away.
Draven collapsed onto the ground, convulsing.
"M-Master..." he gasped through ragged breaths. "W-Why...?"
Death.
For the first time in his life, he truly felt death, but what terrified him wasn’t the pain. It was the realization. This wasn’t his pain. It was his master’s.
The Sovereign Dragon had merely projected his own sensations onto Draven.
How?
How could his invincible master feel such terror? Why was he showing him this?
"Because..." the Sovereign Dragon said softly. "This is what I feel whenever I think about meeting the current owner of the Crown of Force."
Draven’s pupils contracted.
"Boy." The dragon’s voice grew even quieter. "Remember my words. We are not even qualified to stand in that person’s presence."
Draven’s breathing stopped.
For the first time since meeting his master, he heard no pride in his voice. No arrogance. No confidence.
Only fear.
Cold sweat rolled down Draven’s back. A being even his master was afraid to meet. He had actually planned to get back a spell from that person. How naive...
"I... I’m sorry, Master." His head lowered. Tears gathered in his eyes.
"So... what do I do now?" he asked quietly. "Am... am I going to become useless again?"
The thought crushed him.
Before being beaten unconscious by an Adept Mage, he had believed he was special.
He had believed he was destined for greatness.
Now?
He wasn’t even certain he could defeat a random genius on the street. His pride slowly shattered. The Sovereign Dragon sensed it immediately.
And he could not allow this fool to break, for he still needed him.
"There is another way," the dragon finally said.
Draven looked up. "A way?"
"Yes." The dragon hesitated. "But it carries a risk."
Draven’s eyes lit up. "I don’t care. I’ve taken risks before."
"This one is different." The dragon’s voice turned grave. "The danger is comparable to meeting the current owner of the Crown of Force."
Draven’s face stiffened.
Damn it.
Where were all these terrifying monsters coming from? Couldn’t they stay in their own worlds?
"Then..." he asked carefully, "isn’t that suicide?"
The Sovereign Dragon fell silent. After a long moment, he spoke. "Monsters are classified by bloodline. You know the ranks from Mortal to Legendary."
Draven nodded.
"Beyond Legendary, there are three higher bloodlines."
"Mythical."
"Divine."
"And Primordial."
A trace of pride returned to the dragon’s voice.
"I am a Divine Beast. Since no Primordial Beast had ever appeared, we Divine Beasts ruled our territories absolutely." His voice suddenly faltered. "Until she appeared."
"Who?" Draven asked.
"Yuki."
The dragon paused. "The Nine-Tailed Fox."
Draven blinked.
"But... aren’t Nine-Tailed Foxes Divine Beasts too?"
"Yes."
The dragon’s voice became heavy. "They are supposed to be. But she was different. She surpassed Divinity itself. The entire Systemverse trembled beneath her. Even the Celestial Origin failed to stop her."
Draven fell silent.
Most of those terms meant nothing to him. But he knew better than to ask.
"We all believed she had left the Systemverse," the dragon continued. "But after my death... while hiding within a Wyvern’s brain... I saw her."
Draven swallowed. "She’s here?"
"Yes. In this world."
Draven’s mouth went dry. "So... you’re planning to fight someone like that?"
"If she were still the same as before, never." The dragon’s voice sharpened. "But she isn’t. She doesn’t even possess one percent of her original power. And her eight tails are missing. I investigated. I discovered where they were sealed. The Dragon Bone Range."
Draven’s eyes widened.
"The Eighth Peak..."
"Correct."
The dragon continued. "Since the Azure Lotus Sect Master conquered the Eighth Peak, she should possess two of those tails." He paused. "Or perhaps... the sect master is Yuki herself."
Draven felt his throat tighten.
"Even so..." he muttered. "How can we fight her?"
The Sovereign Dragon slowly exhaled. "I’m honestly not sure."
Draven stared blankly. Then why were they discussing this?!
"But..." the dragon continued, "all Nine-Tailed Foxes possess one weakness. The full moon. Their power is reduced by half during that period. The next full moon is approaching. And since she only possesses two tails, her strength should decrease even further."
He paused. "It may fall to the level of an Archmage. Or perhaps lower."
Draven’s heart began to pound.
"And if we succeed?"
The dragon’s voice trembled with excitement. "If we take control of her tails..." He laughed. A cold, greedy laugh. "Then even the Celestial Origin itself will no longer be our opponent."
Draven swallowed. "But..." He looked at his hands. "I’m only an Adept."
The dragon laughed. "You still have a few days to become an Archmage."
Draven stared. "How is that possible?"
The Sovereign Dragon smiled. "There will be many talented mages gathering in Azure City for the Annual Hunt." His voice turned hungry. "I’m certain their mana hearts will taste far better than territory cores."
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