The Dragon Realm entered silence before the storm.
Across volcanic mountains, ancient draconic cities, floating obsidian bridges, and burning valleys, one name echoed endlessly through every noble household, every military hall, every ancient bloodline chamber.
The King's Succession.
The event that decided the ruler of all dragons.
The event that turned heirs into monsters.
The event where bloodlines either ascended into eternity—
Or vanished completely.
And this year—
The atmosphere felt heavier than ever before.
Because thirteen candidates would enter.
Yet only one would emerge carrying the King's Heart.
The skies themselves seemed darker as the date approached.
Crimson clouds drifted endlessly across volcanic heavens while ancient dragon cries echoed through distant mountain ranges. Everywhere throughout the realm, noble houses prepared desperately for the coming month.
Weapons were forged.
Ancient medicines prepared.
Political alliances formed secretly beneath moonlit halls.
Assassination attempts increased quietly.
Because everyone understood one truth.
The competition was not a tournament.
It was survival.
And survival among dragons always meant blood.
The Crimson Dragon Mansion remained awake throughout the nights leading toward departure.
Retainers moved endlessly through ancient corridors while draconic soldiers sharpened weapons beneath flickering mana lanterns. Crimson banners danced against volcanic winds above the estate while political messengers arrived and departed constantly.
Yet amidst all the preparation—
One place remained quiet.
The upper training grounds.
Velor stood alone there beneath the burning heavens.
The volcanic winds moved softly through his crimson hair while ancient obsidian pillars surrounded the massive arena. Cracks covered the stone floor from weeks of merciless training.
And at the center—
Velor no longer resembled the broken dragon beaten publicly weeks ago.
His posture had changed.
Sharper.
Calmer.
The hatred still remained inside those crimson eyes.
But now—
It no longer leaked outward recklessly.
It waited.
Kel quietly observed him from nearby beneath his black dragon disguise.
The illusionary scales reflected the burning skies while his golden slit eyes remained calm.
Sairen softly whispered through the soul-link.
"…He's changing fast."
Kel silently nodded internally.
Because Velor possessed terrifying talent originally.
His greatest weakness had never been lack of strength.
It was lack of control.
Now—
That weakness slowly disappeared.
Meanwhile—
Vistara approached the training grounds quietly beneath crimson robes embroidered with ancient dragon patterns. Her long crimson hair moved softly through volcanic winds while several retainers followed behind carrying political documents and sealed letters.
Even now—
Her recovery still felt miraculous throughout the mansion.
The Crimson Princess had resumed her role completely.
And with frightening efficiency.
Several corrupt retainers already vanished mysteriously over the past weeks.
Ancient Crimson alliances previously dormant had begun responding once more.
Even noble households that abandoned the Crimson Bloodline years ago suddenly reopened communication carefully.
Hope attracted opportunists quickly.
Vistara calmly stopped near the arena afterward.
Her crimson eyes quietly moved toward Kel briefly before settling upon Velor.
"The imperial decree arrived."
Silence followed immediately.
Velor slowly turned around.
The competition date had finally been announced.
One of the retainers stepped forward carefully before opening the sealed draconic scroll beneath the burning skies.
Ancient mana symbols illuminated the parchment softly.
Then—
The decree was read aloud.
"By command of the Silver Throne…"
The volcanic winds howled quietly around them.
"The thirteen heirs shall enter the Sacred Wildness for one month."
Silence deepened.
The Sacred Wildness.
Even among dragons—
That place carried fear.
Ancient forests larger than kingdoms.
Predatory draconic beasts.
Forgotten ruins.
Mana storms.
Creatures old enough to rival lesser divinities.
A place where even dragons vanished permanently.
The retainer continued reading.
"No external military assistance shall be permitted."
"No household armies shall interfere."
"The final surviving heir…"
A faint pause followed.
"…shall inherit the King's Heart."
The atmosphere became heavier afterward.
Because the meaning behind those words was simple.
Kill.
Survive.
Ascend.
Nothing else mattered.
The decree finished shortly afterward while silence spread beneath the crimson skies.
Several retainers looked visibly tense now.
Even experienced dragons feared the Sacred Wildness.
Yet strangely—
Velor remained calm.
Not because he lacked fear.
Because Kel had already forced him through worse mentally.
The crimson-haired heir slowly looked toward the burning horizon beyond the mountains.
Then quietly asked—
"How many usually survive?"
One elderly retainer answered grimly.
"Depends on the generation."
A faint pause followed.
"Sometimes three."
"Sometimes five."
His expression darkened slightly.
"Sometimes only one."
The volcanic winds howled louder afterward.
Vistara quietly folded her arms beneath flowing crimson robes.
Her expression remained calm externally.
Yet internally—
Fear existed.
Because she knew exactly what kind of place the Sacred Wildness truly was.
Ancient dragons intentionally designed the succession competition to create monsters.
Not rulers.
Only dragons capable of surviving absolute chaos deserved the throne.
That was the philosophy behind the King's Heart.
Meanwhile—
Kel calmly stepped forward afterward.
"One month."
Velor looked toward him immediately.
Kel's golden slit eyes reflected the burning heavens quietly.
"That's enough time."
One retainer frowned slightly.
"…Enough time for what?"
Kel softly smiled beneath the black dragon disguise.
"For Velor to win."
Silence.
The statement sounded absurdly confident.
Yet strangely—
No one mocked it anymore.
Because after everything witnessed already…
The Demonic Black Dragon speaking confidently felt more dangerous than arrogant.
Meanwhile—
Velor quietly stared at Kel.
Then softly asked—
"What if the others form alliances against me?"
Kel answered instantly.
"They will."
No comfort.
No reassurance.
Only truth.
The future Dragon Emperor narrowed his eyes slightly.
Kel continued calmly.
"The Silver Bloodline fears your father's legacy."
The volcanic winds moved softly through the arena.
"And the other noble houses fear what your bloodline might become if it rises again."
Vistara silently listened nearby.
Because unfortunately—
Every word was true.
The Crimson Flame Dragon's shadow still haunted the realm even after death.
And Velor—
As his son—
Terrified noble bloodlines instinctively.
Kel calmly folded his arms afterward.
"So yes."
A faint pause followed.
"…they will target you first."
Silence spread.
One younger retainer nervously asked—
"Then what should we do?"
Kel's eyes slowly shifted toward the distant mountains beyond the mansion.
Toward the endless wildness stretching beneath crimson skies.
Then quietly—
He answered.
"Become more terrifying than their fear."
The atmosphere itself seemed colder afterward.
Because the black dragon standing beneath the burning heavens no longer sounded like a teacher.
He sounded like someone preparing a king for war.