BAM!!!
The table shattered into countless pieces, splinters flying in every direction.
Master Snape stood motionless, his piercing gaze locked onto the hooded figure before him.
The figure lowered her head, her body tense as if expecting the worst.
"Mind telling me again..." Snape's voice was eerily calm, sending a shiver through the air. "You lost them?..... Both of them? Not even the horns—artifacts capable of controlling dragons—worked as intended?" He stepped forward, his tone blank yet brimming with unspoken fury.
The hooded figure let out a silent sigh, her fingers tightening around the horn in her hand before she finally spoke, "I didn't lose them... The situation spiralled out of control.
The horns were useless." She held up the once-powerful blue horn, now drained of its colour, its vibrant glow faded into a lifeless pale shade.
Master Snape's frown deepened, 'It lost its ability... That means Victor really managed to take control over the Empire's entire dragon lineage... without even using a horn?' The very thought made the Master's stomach twist slightly.
No, never in history had such a thing happened before.
'He's too dangerous to be my enemy... I need to keep him close,' Snape mused.
"And then," she continued, her voice filled with frustration, "the General, old goon, that massive motherfucker, intervened. The delay he caused was impossible to recover from. I couldn't even go up against that monster properly, and... Victor arrived much faster than I expected.
I didn't have any choice but to run, Master... I know you're disappointed, but—"
Before she could finish, the entire garden was suddenly consumed by darkness, as though the ever-bright sky had been swallowed by a storm. The shift was so abrupt, so unnatural, that even the air felt heavier!
The tiny hooded figure, the first hooded figure, the massive figure whose severed head was still not reattached... and Alaric—all of them instinctively took a step back before immediately dropping to their knees.
Every single one of them bowed before him.
"Disappointed?... Huh?" Snape muttered, not even sparing the hooded figure a glance. Instead, he tilted his head back, his pupil-less eyes locked onto the darkened sky. "For hundreds of years, I have worked... I have tirelessly worked for centuries...
Only to feel disappointment? Haha... hahaha... HAHAHAHA!!"
The once lively garden—where flowers danced in the breeze—fell eerily still.
Snape's laughter echoed for a few moments before he finally stopped, his gaze lowering to his subordinates. His voice, when he spoke again, was chilling.
"All of you... lost everything we have built so far.... Especially you, Alaric."
Alaric clenched his jaw, his head bowing even lower!
"But... that's not what matters," Snape continued, his tone shifting slightly.
"Yes, I lost.... But this is not the first time I've faced defeat...
Everyone! Do you know what it took to reach this point?
Do you understand the sacrifices?
I have given everything.... I have done everything necessary for these worlds... for a better future... Yet,"
He spread his arms wide, his expression almost reverent.
"Do you think these worlds will ever acknowledge what I have done?
Do you believe a single soul will be grateful for my efforts?
No... Not a single one!
They cannot accept the truth.
They cannot handle reality!
Those weaklings cower before it... They fear it!
That is why we do what we must in silence.
To give them a chance...?
No! a blessing! So that those fragile beings may continue to exist in the new beginning that is coming!"
He lowered his head, eyes scanning over the group before him. His words came slow, deliberate. "I have done... everything."
A heavy silence followed.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, a smirk stretched across Snape's lips. "I have been hiding long enough... It is time to finish what I started."
A ripple of shock spread through the group. Some of them stiffened in disbelief, while others—those who understood the true weight of his words—smirked as if they'd just heard the most delightful news.
"Yeah..." Snape exhaled, his gaze darkening, "I can't wait any longer.....
'The Process' must be completed soon." His hand clenched into a tight fist, trembling violently. A thought echoed in his mind, one that refused to fade. 'My time is running out...'
"You mean... you're going to—" The first hooded figure swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper.
Snape cut her off sharply. "Yes. The only reason I remained in the shadows all this time... was because of Dora. And since someone—whether intentionally or not—has given her a hint," he turned his sharp glare toward Alaric.
'But I swear I didn't!' Alaric wanted to scream those words, but he forced himself to stay silent. It was not the right time to interrupt his Master.
Snape's voice carried a finality,
"Dora knows I am alive. There is no point in hiding any longer. I have no doubt that she will come for me. She cannot let me live. Just like before, she will bring her full force this time... and I will not sit back and wait for her. So..." His eyes gleamed with sinister intent, "We will strike first."
Alaric grinned, "Yes..." His excitement was barely contained.
"You mentioned that Victor has Sandra in his possession, correct?" Snape's gaze shifted to the hooded figure.
She nodded silently.
"...Hmm... Well, then," Snape mused, his lips curling into a slow, dangerous grin, "It seems it's time I have a long, meaningful conversation with Victor."
The King himself was now stepping onto the battlefield.... The board was set!
Now...
...
....
Back in the Pyra Empire, inside the grand palace—
"Make sure to protect the borders tightly. Deploy as many soldiers as possible to create the illusion of a tense and heavily guarded atmosphere," Victor commanded, his voice calm yet filled with authority.
He sat on the throne with an air of absolute control, his sharp gaze fixed on Drakhairs and a few newly appointed, trusted generals.
"Yes, Sir!" They all nodded in unison, their expressions serious and unwavering.
"And… block all teleportation channels immediately. No form of teleportation, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, should be allowed within our Empire for the time being. I don't want a single unknown entity slipping through our defences."
"Understood, Sir!"
Victor tapped his fingers rhythmically against the armrest of his throne, his mind deep in thought, before he finally added, "Also, spread the word among the people… Tell them that I am truly grateful for their willingness to stand and protect their Empress in times like these."
"Please, no, Sir! There is no need for such words!" The Generals spoke as one, surprising even themselves with their perfect synchronization,
"We are only doing what our hearts command! To harm the Empress is to harm us all! We would never allow such a thing to happen, no matter the cost!"
Victor observed them, his lips curling into an inward grin.
His satisfaction was immeasurable!
The unwavering loyalty of his people, their unshakable devotion to the Empress—it only reassured him that his efforts had not been in vain.
They were ready to stand by his side, to fight for what they believed in.
That alone was enough!
With a casual wave of his hand, he dismissed them to carry out their duties—all except for Drakhairs.
"Sir?" Drakhairs remained kneeling, his head still lowered in deep respect. His voice was calm, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his tone.
He noticed the way his Majesty's sharp gaze lingered on him.
For a long, tense moment, silence stretched between them. Then, finally—
"Tell me, Drakhairs…" Victor's voice was quiet, "The power you displayed before… It was immense.
More than enough to seize the throne and rule this Empire by force if you had wished to. And yet… you chose to remain at the outskirts, far from the central power, living in the shadows, never once reaching for the dominance that is well within your grasp.... Why?"
Drakhairs slowly lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Victor.
He had expected this question. After all, with the level of strength he now possessed, he could have easily overthrown Victor.
Worse still, with his vast knowledge, experience, and cunning, Victor would have been nothing more than a mere plaything for him. And yet… here he was.
Kneeling... Obeying!
Something about it must have felt suspicious to Victor.
Still maintaining his composed expression, Drakhairs asked calmly, "May I ask… Is that an order?" His tone was clear—if it wasn't a direct command, he had no intention of sharing his reasons.
Victor studied him carefully, his expression unreadable. Minutes passed in thick silence before he finally responded.
"No. Not an order."
With that, he raised a hand to his face… and reached for his mask.
Ssshh!
Drakhairs' eyes widened in utter shock, the stoic composure he had upheld for centuries faltering for the first time. He blinked once, twice, before exhaling softly.
A chuckle escaped him—low and disbelieving—before he shook his head,
"You truly are the most handsome Dragon Emperor I have ever seen in my five thousand years of life, Sir…" His voice carried an amused admiration, but beneath it was something else—something far deeper. Then, with a slight tilt of his head and a newfound glint in his eyes, he added, "Shall we discuss this over a drink?"