The Unrivaled Holder: Rise of the Dragon Monarch

The sheer force of his voice sent waves of pressure rolling through the chamber. Dust and debris rained down from the cavern ceiling.

Slowly, Zarathorak uncoiled his body, his titanic form rising. His piercing crimson gaze swept across the room, his presence overwhelming.

Then, his eyes settled on Fafnir.

A flicker of recognition.

Then, his expression twisted. Mockery. Disdain.

A low chuckle rumbled from his throat, then turned into a deep, cruel laugh.

His voice, filled with cocky amusement, boomed through the cavern.

"HOW LOW HAVE YOU BECOME, BROTHER?!"

Fafnir met his gaze, unfazed.

"We are not here to fight you, Zarathorak."

His tone was calm, but firm. He took a slow, deliberate step forward.

I moved to follow him—but Ingi's hand shot out, stopping me.

"Not yet," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His golden eyes were sharp, watching carefully.

I clenched my fists, frustrated but trusting his judgment.

Zarathorak snorted, his massive claws scraping against the stone floor as he shifted. His smirk deepened, filled with arrogance.

"Then why are you here, Fraener?" he sneered. "To beg? To grovel?"

Fafnir ignored the taunt and continued walking forward. His movements were slow, cautious—but unwavering.

"We need your help," he said.

Zarathorak tilted his head slightly, mock curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"Help?" His gaze flickered over Fafnir again—then, suddenly, his expression changed.

His eyes locked onto the glowing mark on Fafnir's hand.

For a second, he was completely still.

Then—he laughed.

A cruel, booming laughter that echoed throughout the cavern.

Fafnir remained silent, letting him laugh.

Finally, Zarathorak's amusement faded into a sneer. His voice, dripping with mockery, rang through the chamber.

"You? Cursed? By a lowly demon?!" He scoffed. "How pathetic."

His tail slammed into the ground, causing a tremor beneath our feet.

Zarathorak's expression twisted into one of disgust.

"You, who once stood at my side. You, the one who was at the pinnacle of power. You, the Obsidian Devourer. How far you have fallen."

His voice lowered, and for a moment, there was something almost nostalgic in his tone.

"Do you remember, Fraener?" he said. "The battles we fought side by side? When we drove the demons to the brink of extinction? When we cornered them in the Netherlands, ensuring their kind would never again rise to power?"

Fafnir's expression darkened, but he said nothing.

Zarathorak exhaled sharply, his gaze narrowing. "And now? Now I see you… branded. Weak. Even after you ascended into the strongest, you are nothing but a shadow of what you once were."

His claws scraped against the stone. "It is pathetic."

Fafnir finally spoke, his voice steady.

"I know a lot thing happened, but let me tell you, I was not doing it for my selfish desire."

Zarathorak's eyes flashed dangerously.

Fafnir took a breath. "I left the circle because I did not want people to fight over the throne which I was at. If balance was truly what they sought, then my absence ensured it."

For a long moment, Zarathorak said nothing.

Then, his eyes burned with rage.

A low growl rumbled from his throat, slowly building into something far more dangerous.

His claws clenched against the ground, his massive wings trembling with barely restrained fury.

And then—he roared.

The sheer force of it sent a shockwave blasting through the chamber.

Fafnir was forced to his knees.

Even from where I stood, the pressure was suffocating. My body felt like it was being crushed under a mountain.

Zarathorak's voice was filled with fury.

"YOU THINK THAT EXCUSE JUSTIFIES YOUR COWARDICE?!"

His wings unfurled, the sheer size of them blocking out the light from the candles.

"As your younger brother… and you as the strongest, you had a responsibility. You should have never abandoned your role whatever the reason is!"

The cavern shook violently. The very air quivered under the force of his rage.

"And yet you ran."

Zarathorak's eyes gleamed with something far more than anger—pure, raw betrayal.

"You left us. And in the end… you chose your own desire over your role and family."

His massive body lurched forward, crimson flames licking at his maw. His energy built into something unimaginable.

His aura exploded outward, engulfing the chamber in suffocating, malevolent power.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stay standing.

Even Ingi, who had been composed until now, staggered.

But Fafnir—he did not resist.

He remained kneeling, his head bowed slightly, as if accepting Zarathorak's fury.

Zarathorak's breath came out in slow, heaving bursts. His rage did not subside.

No—it grew.

His wings spread wide, his power swelling beyond reason.

And then—he roared.

The force of it was not contained within the cavern.

It tore through the depths of Duskveil Hollow, rising into the skies above.

It traveled far, far beyond this place.

—In the Elven Kingdom, Queen Luviyah's eyes snapped toward the horizon, her expression darkening.Her Supreme Officers stiffened, feeling the pressure even from afar.

—In the Guild of Asnor, adventurers froze, their instincts screaming at them.

—And far away, in the quiet of an inn, Chad, Adrian, Cedrick, and Ronan felt a sudden, violent chill race down their spines.

Zarathorak's rage did not subside.

If anything, it burned hotter—uncontrollable, all-consuming.

His massive form trembled with raw fury, his wings unfurled, his glowing crimson eyes locked onto Fafnir with an intensity that could shatter mountains.

His voice, once filled with mockery, now roared with pain.

"WHY?! WHY?! WHY DID YOU LEAVE US, BROTHER?!"

The cavern shook violently, as if the very world shared in his anguish.

But still—Fafnir did not move.

He remained kneeling, his head lowered slightly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

The pressure pressing down on him was unimaginable. Even from a distance, I could feel it—the weight of Zarathorak's overwhelming presence.

And yet…

Slowly, Fafnir began to rise.

His muscles trembled, sweat dripped from his brow, but he pushed through.

One foot.

Then the other.

He stood.

Despite the suffocating force around him—he stood.

Zarathorak's eyes narrowed. His fury burned, but for the briefest moment, there was something else there—something deeper.

Fafnir exhaled slowly, steadying himself.

Then, without hesitation—

He began walking toward Zarathorak.

The Bloodweaver watched in silence, his claws tightening against the stone beneath him.

The tension in the air was suffocating.

And yet, Fafnir kept moving forward.

Fafnir took another step forward.

The ground beneath us trembled as Zarathorak's crimson eyes bore into him, but Fafnir did not falter. He kept moving.

Each step forward was a challenge against the overwhelming pressure in the air, yet somehow, he managed to close the distance.

Zarathorak's expression was unreadable—his rage still burned, but something else flickered beneath it.

For a moment, it seemed like Fafnir had finally reached him. 

"Brother, let me apo-" before Fafnir can finish his statement, everything changed.

In a blur of movement, Zarathorak's massive tail whipped forward.

CRACK!

The sheer force of the impact was unreal.

Fafnir's body was sent flying, crashing violently against the stone walls with an earth-shattering impact.

The entire cavern shook from the sheer power behind the strike.

I barely had time to react before Zarathorak let out a deafening roar.

A roar of pure, unrelenting fury.

Fafnir's body lay motionless against the stone. Unconscious.

Zarathorak's wings flared out, his blood-red scales gleaming ominously in the dim candlelight. His chest heaved with every breath, his rage uncontained.

The cavern trembled under the force of his bloodlust, his crimson scales radiating with violent energy. His maw opened wide, Magicore swirling into a concentrated mass of devastating destruction.

His voice boomed, dripping with wrath and said, Blood Manipulation: Dragon's Roar.

The very air quivered under the sheer power of the attack. The blood-soaked energy gathered in his throat, twisting and expanding, ready to be unleashed.

Fafnir lay motionless before him. Vulnerable. Unconscious.

Zarathorak was about to kill his own brother.

I tried to move, but my body wouldn't listen—the overwhelming force of Zarathorak's aura crushed me in place.

Then—Ingi stepped forward.

Zarathorak's crimson eyes had locked onto Ingi, his body tense, his mind racing.

He had sensed something was wrong the moment he saw him.

But now—as Ingi and I slowly stepped forward, revealing ourselves—

His eyes widened.

For the first time since he awoke, Zarathorak hesitated.

His nostrils flared, his claws tightened against the stone floor, his wings twitched slightly as if struggling to process what he was seeing.

Before entering Duskveil Hollow..

Before we entered Duskveil Hollow, we had already anticipated Zarathorak's reaction.

We are anticipating that he may attack right away If he sensed something unfamiliar or foreign.

That was why Ingi had cast a powerful concealment spell on both of us.

A spell that hid our true presence, making us unrecognizable even to a being like Zarathorak.

And it had worked—until now.

Going back..

As Ingi stepped forward, he exhaled slowly.

Then, with a subtle motion of his hand, his aura shifted.

"Zarathorak, stop this. Stop trying to kill your brother." He said calmly.

After that, his wings twitched, his breath hitched, and for the first time, his voice came out low and uncertain.

"Who… are you?!"