Echo of the Dragon God

That single ripple in Sylvaran's heart, that tiny hesitation, was all Dravion needed.

In that instant, something awoke within him. Like an ancient candle being lit. Pure instinct made the sleeping predator stir.

Thirty tall, seasoned warriors surrounded him, blades and bows drawn in an unfair hunt.

And it lit a spark in his soul.

His body moved before he could think. He spun past Sylvaran's charge and brushed his clawed hand against the elf's side. It looked like a simple tap, barely a touch. But the strength behind it was devastating.

BOOM!

Sylvaran was launched like a ragdoll, crashing into a tree with a sickening crack. Bark exploded into the air, splinters flying in all directions.

"What the—?!" Sylvaran gasped, dazed, as his body slumped down the trunk.

"Attack!" the others shouted.

Arrows darkened the sky. Swords gleamed in the sun. Magic began to glow from trembling palms.

Dravion's eyes narrowed.

His gaze snapped to every single movement, one after the other, each arrow, each blade, each shifting aura.

Perfect clarity. Perfect timing.

His body remembered what his mind had lost.

A powerful arrow brushed against his shoulder. It carried enough force to shatter stone—but Dravion didn't even flinch. Sparks exploded on impact, and from the stunned eyes of the archer, a black flame of fear was born. Dravion's golden gaze met his, and the suffocating scent of death rolled down the elf's spine.

Every other attack missed or was dodged with terrifying ease. He didn't even try to evade—they simply failed to reach him.

With a burst of raw speed, Dravion leapt. Air screamed in his wake. In the blink of an eye, he stood in front of the attacker whose arrow had touched him. One clawed hand clamped around the elf's face.

Trapped in that crushing grip, the elf stared out through trembling slits between fingers. Dravion's glowing eyes scanned him with a predatory calm, and the warrior froze like prey cornered in the jaws of death.

The others hesitated. Then someone shouted, "Let him go!"

The tension broke. The rest of the warriors surged forward. Sylvaran stood up, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. He raised his blade and slid a finger slowly from the hilt to the tip.

Hummm...

A bluish aura flared to life along the weapon, distorting the air. It was an ancient tribal enhancement—one meant to multiply a weapon's strength tenfold. But even that power could not shake the young dragon's stillness.

Dravion's claw began to press down. Slowly. Deliberately. The elf beneath screamed, voice shrill with agony. He begged. Pleaded.

"You should not have attacked me…" Dravion growled low, his voice thick with confused fury. These feelings were foreign. His instincts reigned. His blood boiled. The beast within had taken over.

The plea for mercy dissolved into whimpers.

Dravion's wings twitched. He felt the shift in wind. An arrow screamed toward his back—he swatted it aside with a flick of his left wing, not even turning his body.

His golden eyes turned, locking onto the next target.

The grip around the elf's head tightened. And with a wet, sickening pop, the skull shattered in his claws, splattering blood and fragments across the forest floor.

One had fallen.

Now the same fear that took him seeped into the hearts of the others. It clashed against the fire of revenge, warring within their chests, making their steps falter.

WOOOSH.

A silent blaze tore from Dravion's mouth. It struck a stunned warrior dead center. There were no screams, a quick death. The body vanished in flame, turned to ash in the blink of an eye. Nothing remained. Not even bones.

The others froze. All eyes locked onto the drifting cinders, onto what had once been their brother in arms.

Sylvaran's voice shattered the silence.

"Pull yourselves together!"

He stepped forward, slow but firm, his gaze never leaving Dravion as the young dragon slowly rose from his crouch.

"He's trying to break us. Using his overwhelming power to shatter our resolve. But we are not weak. We are warriors of the Forest. We are the Bronze Leaf! Together, we hold the power of unity! Stay close. Strike together. That's how we win!"

His words lit something in the warriors' eyes. The flame of fear still smoldered—but now, it burned beside something else. Determination.

"For the Bronze Leaf tribe!" someone shouted.

"For the Forest of the Earth Mother!" another answered.

"For the children!"

The voices rose as one. They didn't expect to survive. But they no longer fought for themselves.

They fought for the peace of their village. For the honor of their dead. If they could drag this beast down with them, then the sacrifice would be worth it. And the forest would remember their fall.

"They… look like sister…" Dravion muttered.

A flicker of memory stirred—an image of a young female elf, her face soft and sad, lips moving as if to speak. But the words never reached him. Only silence.

Blurry. Distant. Like a dream slipping through his fingers. But one truth settled in his gut. They wanted revenge.

"I ate them…" he said, louder this time, though it was meant only for himself.

The elves heard it.

Their eyes widened, rage twisting their faces. To them, it was mockery. A cruel boast. They didn't see the confusion in his voice. They didn't hear the tremor of something deeper.

They misunderstood. But it no longer mattered.

The beast inside didn't let him feel guilt. On the contrary, Dravion sniffed the air, and his stomach growled. Loud. Insistent. His transformation, the reckless unleashing of divine power, had drained him dry. His body burned for mana.

For flesh.

"Eat them all."

The voice slithered through his mind, cold and familiar.

"They're in your way. Just another offering. Small sacrifices. Nothing more."

He didn't resist this time. He let the voice in. Let it guide him.

WHIP!

His tail struck the ground without thought—dirt and debris exploded into the air, masking his position in a thick, swirling cloud.

"AHHH!"

A scream pierced the veil from the eastern flank. Panic. Pain.

And then silence.

When the dust cleared, one of the warriors stood swaying—his arm was gone. In Dravion's mouth, it dangled between fangs. Blood trailed down his chin.

The sight was worse than his dragon form. A humanoid child with golden eyes and scaled skin... biting into elven flesh like it was fruit.

This was what awaited those who defied the will of a god.

"More…" Dravion muttered, chewing slowly, his eyes glowing brighter. "I need… more."