Tyrant System: Rise of the Dragonblooded

The fortified war room hummed with a tense quiet as Ryvaris, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the map-strewn table, broke the silence. "The day is almost here," he announced, his voice a grim rasp. "Lord Arkan revealed the test. My brother, the Emperor, and even our uncle have agreed. It's happening in the Soul Factory."

Rin simply nodded, his gaze fixed on Ryvaris.

"Once Arkan returns to the domain, the facility will be exposed," Ryvaris continued, a note of dark satisfaction in his tone. "And whoever controls it… controls the battlefield."

Rin's fingers curled almost imperceptibly. "When will Arkan return?"

"Soon." The single word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications.

The room seemed to dim, the gravity of the truth pressing down on them.

Ryvaris leaned closer. "The Crown Prince… even the Second Prince… they've agreed. We're ending this civil fracture now. With the west threatening and our Emperor fading, we either unify… or we burn."

Rin's eyes narrowed. "So Kaelion agreed too?"

A slow, predatory grin spread across Ryvaris's face. "He wants you dead more than anything. Of course he agreed."

A faint smile touched Rin's lips. Good. Come to me, 'brother'.

Months bled into years, two since Varros's death, and the stalemate between Rin and Kaelion remained unbroken. Their relentless struggle had yielded no clear victor. Normally, such a conflict would drag on for ages, but Arkan, who had always maintained a strict neutrality, decided to intervene. Perhaps influenced by his uncle or the Emperor, Arkan, as their father's "wing," couldn't outright defy his father's orders to remain neutral. Yet, he found a way. The winner of this impending battle would earn his full, unwavering support.

And so, the day of reckoning finally arrived.

The Soul Bomb Factory loomed amidst the desolate mountains, a monstrous edifice of steel burrowed deep into the stone. Its very existence was taboo, a whispered secret in war rooms, never to be named aloud. Today, this forbidden place would become the altar upon which the empire's future would be decided.

On opposing cliffs, two forces stood poised, gazing down at the factory's ominous entrance. Rin Solas and Kaelion Solas,brothers, rivals, and two very different kinds of monsters.

Between them, silent and unmoving, stood Arkan, the judge, the neutral, the last living soul who claimed no side.

He raised a hand, and all sound seemed to dissipate, swallowed by the mountain air. "Five from each side. One weakened Soul Bomb. Whichever side claims it earns my full allegiance. The bomb will render everyone unconscious except the one holding it. No killing is allowed."

Kaelion's jaw tightened. "You were ordered to remain neutral."

Arkan's gaze shifted, slow and deliberate. "The Emperor is dying. The West rises. I will no longer waste time on loyalty to ashes."

Rin remained silent. He didn't need to speak.

Behind him stood four of the most terrifying beings the empire had ever produced. Their blood purity levels, so high they should have required a century of war to achieve, blazed within them,three at a staggering 80%, one at an almost mythical 91%. Cloaked in an aura of quiet violence, their white dragon bloodlines were fully awakened and honed by Rin's cruel genius. Their bodies bore hidden brands, marks placed by Varros's father. Rin controlled their very thoughts. He had chosen them precisely because they could never betray him; selecting anyone else carried the risk of Kaelion's spies, a gamble Rin couldn't afford. The 91% individual was a true monster, once fiercely loyal to the Varros family, exceptionally talented and ruthless. Rin, unlike Isen Varros, had never let this one out of his sight, keeping him as his personal shadow.

They weren't just loyal. They were his.

On Kaelion's side stood a phalanx of hardened generals, survivors of purges and veteran campaigns, chosen not for blood purity, but for their razor-sharp instincts and unwavering loyalty. The Second Prince himself stood among them, raw power coiled like a serpent behind his eyes.

Kaelion glanced at Arkan. "And if I win, you won't interfere with what I do to him?"

Arkan's voice was flat. "Of course."

A beat of charged silence.

Rin's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "Good."

He stepped forward, his long white wings unfurling, casting a pale, ethereal shadow across the jagged rock.

Ryvaris walked beside him, but stopped short of the edge, visibly tense. "I can't go in," he said, a strained note in his voice. "I don't fight… you know that."

Rin didn't even look at him. "I know. And I didn't invite you."

Behind them, murmurs rose from the spectating nobles. Rumors, already swirling, intensified:

> "They say Rin's elites eat dragon hearts to survive."

> "No… they're beyond human. 91% blood purity? That's not natural."

> "Kaelion's people are veterans, but this… this is something else."

>

In truth, no one truly grasped the depths of what Rin had created.

He remembered the endless nights, the months spent refining their power: blood-lake rituals, controlled evolutions. They hadn't merely become powerful. They had become obedient weapons. Each could stand against a general. The one at 91%? A walking calamity.

On the other side, Kaelion turned to his generals. "You've seen war. This won't be a war. It'll be a massacre if you hesitate."

They nodded, stoic and grim-faced.

Arkan lifted a single crystal shard into the air. "This is the weakened Soul Bomb. Non-lethal, but enough to knock out anyone nearby. It lies in the heart of the factory. Whichever team retrieves and holds it first, wins."

He paused, his eyes narrowing. "You have one hour. If no side wins… I will decide who is worthy."

Both brothers understood the unspoken message.

Rin turned to his squad. No verbal orders were needed; his thoughts echoed in their minds through soul-binding.

> "Destroy them. Leave no doubt. Take what is ours."

>

Kaelion whispered to his generals. "Stick to the plan. If one falls, do not break formation."

With a groan, the massive factory doors creaked open. Dust billowed out like a dying god's last breath.

Rin strode forward first, his black armor glinting, his cloak trailing, his elites following like the silent, predatory shadows of war.

Kaelion followed, just as silent, fury burning beneath his skin.

As they stepped into the factory's maw, the metal doors slammed shut behind them with a thunderous finality.

And so, the final trial began.