Tyrant System: Rise of the Dragonblooded

The silence after the blast was deafening, the kind that swallows sound whole. Where the Soul Factory once stood, there was now just a gaping crater, a wound in the earth. Smoke and dust, thick as a funeral shroud, twisted and danced in the air, shimmering with the lingering heat of the explosion.

Near the edge of the destruction, Orien helped Selvara to her feet. She was trembling, her body a live wire of shock. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice rough with concern.

Selvara gave a weak nod, her voice barely a whisper. "Did they die?"

Orien gazed into the swirling smoke, a grim certainty in his eyes. "No one could survive that. You can rest now."

But then, the dust began to thin, and a silhouette, impossibly, rose from the wreckage. It moved slowly, painfully, blood-soaked and clad in armor that was cracked but still glinted with fading embers. His right arm dangled uselessly, and a trail of blood stained the ground behind him. His once-white cloak was reduced to tatters.

It was Rin Solas.

Selvara's breath hitched, a strangled sound in her throat. "That's... not possible..."

Orien staggered back, eyes wide with disbelief. "No... no way..." Yet, if you looked closely, a faint, almost imperceptible grin touched his lips.

Rin, however, heard none of it. He was barely clinging to consciousness, his thoughts slow and fragmented. This wasn't a soul bomb. It hit the body too. Directly. My soul was untouched, but if not for... His head throbbed with a relentless rhythm.

Three things had pulled him back from the brink: his bloodline, the Solas blood, as unyielding as dragonbone; his armor, one of only twenty in the empire, a gift from the Crown Prince himself; and his method ,he had advanced not just through the standard system, but by blood, meaning he possessed true Tyrant Points. He had burned them without a second thought, activating the 60% ability: slow regeneration. This ability made his body incredibly resilient, and even when broken, it could heal, albeit slowly, without instant regeneration.

Even with all of that, he had been terrifyingly close to death. I was reckless. That was close… too close. This plan of mine was truly stupid.

Suddenly, a blur of motion emerged from the shadows. A blade flashed, eyes locked on Rin. "Die," a voice snarled.

Rin cursed silently. I can't move.

The blade arced downwards.

Then, another blur. Steel gleamed. A spray of blood. The attacker's head fell cleanly from his shoulders.

Standing behind the headless corpse was a man in tattered white armor, his breath slow and cold. It was one of Rin's four loyal soldiers, the strongest among them.

Rin exhaled in relief. "Took your time."

The soldier said nothing. Three others landed silently beside him. The bond Rin had forged with them – etched in blood and soul – had flared just before the blast. He had called them, and they had answered.

One of them knelt. "Are you able to stand?"

Rin leaned against a nearby boulder and, with a monumental effort, forced himself upright. "Hold me."

As they lifted him, he glanced at the body of the assassin. The man was one of Ryvaris's elite, a name he recognized from war room briefings. Loyal. Powerful. So why…?

Rin's eyes narrowed. He hadn't expected Ryvaris to be involved; he'd thought it would just be Arkan. Of course. Arkan can't betray us directly... Rin thought. But the Third Prince isn't bound by the Emperor's word. He's just a pawn. Like Orien. Like Selvara. All used.

Outside the ruins, a crowd had gathered,nobles, soldiers, and distant onlookers, drawn by the thunderous explosion. Some arrived expecting to see Kaelion's banner; others came to confirm a death. All froze as Rin appeared, supported by his soldiers, blood-soaked but undeniably alive.

One of Rin's four soldiers stepped forward, his voice ringing out, clear and strong. "Prince Rin Solas is victorious! The bomb is destroyed. Kaelion is defeated. Prince Rin has claimed the Soul Factory and the support of Lord Arkan. He will rule this region from now on!"

A ripple went through the crowd,murmurs, gasps, then stammered praises.

"He lived through that?"

"Even Kaelion couldn't survive... but he did?"

"The White Tyrant... is unstoppable."

"Maybe the legends were true."

"Long live Prince Rin!"

"I always believed in him. He was the only rightful heir."

"Tell the Crown Prince. His chosen has won."

The words spread quickly, reshaped in mouths eager to survive, or to be part of something bigger than themselves. Loyalty built on fear. Admiration built on survival.

Rin said nothing. He simply stared at the sky, still faintly burning with the echoes of fire.

He had won. But the true price of his victory… was still unraveling.

What do you think will happen to Orien and Selvara now that Rin has claimed victory and seemingly allied with Arkan?