Devouring Dragon Heir

King Alaric sat stiffly upon the golden seat, but his crown weighed like chains on his head. Once, this hall had been the proud heart of his kingdom its banners flowing with the crest of the lion, its marble pillars gleaming with authority.

The throne hall of Lion heart was no longer his.

Now, it felt like a cage. The true power in the room did not belong to him but to the four young men seated casually on the elevated platforms beside him.

Princes.

Not his sons. Not his blood. But princes of foreign empires, the kind whose titles carried more weight than his entire dynasty.

The first was Prince Darius of the Falcon Empire, son of the Emperor.

He was the fourth prince, yet he carried himself with a warrior's ease. Clad in crimson plate polished to a mirror shine, his hand never strayed far from the hilt of his curved sabre.

Behind him, banners of the falcon stretched wide, and outside the palace walls in the outskirts of the capital an army of fifty thousand men stationed, ready to follow any of his commands.

Beside him lounged Prince Kael of the Obsidian Empire, his dark cloak spilling across the chair like smoke.

His eyes, black as coal, missed nothing. He barely spoke in the assemblies, yet the courtiers seemed more afraid of his silence than of loud threats. Where he walked, whispers followed of assassins, poisons, and shadows that obeyed his call.

To Kael's right sat Prince Roman of Phoenix land, whose arrogance burned brighter than the ruby rings on his fingers. He laughed easily, but it was the laugh of mocking, consuming, dangerous. His fiery robes caught the light of the hall's torches, and behind him stood his retainers whith their hands on their weapons.

The last was Prince Maximus of Titan reach, broad as a fortress wall, a mountain of muscle-bound in steel. His every movement made the floor groan under his weight. Unlike the others, Magnus rarely hid his contempt. His booming voice filled the chamber whenever he spoke, and when he grew silent, the silence was heavier than stone.

These four were the might of the continent. And together, they had reduced the king of Lion heart to little more than a figurehead.

Alaric's advisors, once loyal to him, now bent their knees to these foreign princes. They smiled when the princes smiled, and flinched when the princes frowned.

Each had chosen a different master to pledge loyalty to, hedging their bets against their own king.

The king could no longer move without their eyes following him. He could no longer speak his own will. basically he had become a puppet in their hands now.

And so he sat, tense, powerless, praying for each assembly to pass without incident.

But today, fate betrayed him.

A voice rose from the lower steps of the hall. Strong, clear, cutting through the usual sound of meaningless reports.

"My king," said Kaiden, a young noble with the bearing of a knight and the honesty of a soldier, "there is an issue we can no longer ignore."

The king's throat tightened. Of all people, Kaiden. Brave, loyal Kaiden, too brave for his own good.

He had risen quickly through the ranks, admired by commoners for his fairness and knights for his courage. But he lacked the one skill a court demanded above all, cunning and silence.

Kaiden continued, his voice steady. "The people of Lionheart are starving. Food that should be reaching the markets is being redirected to feed the foreign armies stationed within our walls. My liege, our citizens will not endure this for long. Already, in the lower quarters, bread riots have begin to stir."

The hall fell silent.

Alaric could feel it, the weight of four stares burning into him. He dared not meet their eyes, for he knew what they demanded. Silence. Compliance. Obedience.

He cleared his throat, forcing a smile that fooled no one. "Ahem… I will look into this matter, Lord Kaiden. Rest assured, the crown will not allow its people to suffer."

the comment was a dismissive, spoken to end the topic as soon as possible.

But Kaiden did not bow.

"My king, with all due respect, the people cannot eat promises. They need grain. They require water. If this continues, there will be rebellion from civilians and then our enemy won't be Riverdale any more but our own people.

The words hung like a blade in the air.

Alaric's palms sweated. He could feel the princes' anger crackling behind him like storm clouds ready to break.

He wanted to shout at Kaiden, to order him silent, to save him from himself. But his tongue refused to move. He sat frozen, a puppet king on a throne of fear.

And so, Kaiden's fate was sealed.

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Far away from Lionheart's palace, deep in the sanctuary Klaus had forged, an elf knelt trembling. His body was broken in ways the eye could not see.

Seven days. Seven days of unending torment, of being ripped apart and remade. Seven days of claws tearing flesh, of flames devouring nerves, of freezing winds gnawing at his bones.

The beasts of the sanctuary did not kill. They prolonged. They toyed. They made him scream until his throat bled, then healed him so he could scream again.

Now, he knelt before Klaus, head bowed, body quivering like a beaten hound.

"Please…" the elf whispered, his voice hoarse. "No more. Please… I will speak. I'll tell you everything…"

Klaus stood before him, expressionless. His gaze was sharp, his presence heavy, but he did not raise his voice. He didn't need to his eyes and his ways had already instilled terror in the heart of the elf.

The elf's will was already shattered.

"Speak," Klaus commanded.

And so the secrets spilled.

"The humans from the empires and the demons have been plotting against you and an alliance have been formed. various races have joined the alliance fearing they will be next if you manage to conquer the human continent.

Presently every race on star land fears the deathly army you command and how it expands and feeds on the dead. an army with infinite stamina is a great threat for them, even the transcendents are worried so they are preparing either to remain neutral or against you.

They call it the Anti-Messenger Pact. Their goal is only one and that is your death." His words tumbled out, desperate, tripping over each other in his rush to confess.

"Even the elves were invited. Our king received the summons himself, though he still hesitates. He wants to measure the risk, and he is still waiting weighing his options. he is waiting for the result of the battle of lion hart to see which side will triumph before he chooses."

Klaus listened silently his eyes were unreadable.

The elf choked on his sobs. "That is all I know, my lord. Please… spare me. I beg you…"

But Klaus gave no answer he simply chuckled hearing about the current status quo.

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Far from Riverdale, in the deepest pits of the abyss, rose the Palace of Obsidian Flame, seat of Demon Lord Krazinok.

The throne room stretched vast as a canyon, its pillars made of writhing black stone, its floor a mirror of liquid fire. Chains dangled from the ceiling, each one bound to screaming hounds whose voices never ceased.

Upon the throne sat Krazinok.

He was a rough skinned heavily muscular frame with horns curling like spires of obsidian, wings stretched wide as if to blot out the world.

His body seemed carved from molten rock, yet his eyes glowed with cold lack of mercy.

Before him knelt Xylos, the black-wrapped general whose body was bound in endless strips of cursed cloth. His hollow eyes glimmered faintly beneath the bindings, but his head remained bowed.

Krazinok's voice thundered across the hall, shaking the very stone.

"This is your last chance, Xylos. I want the head of this 'Messenger' delivered to me. Place it upon my table after the coming lion heart battle." His teeth, jagged as blades, flashed in the firelight. "Or your head will take its place."

The words rumbled with finality.

Xylos bowed lower, the cloth around his body tightening as if in pain. "As you command, my lord."

From the sides of the throne, two more figures stepped forward they were the second and fourth general, their forms twisted and terrible. One by one, they bent the knee before their lord, received his unspoken command, and withdrew.

Xylos rose last, the weight of doom heavy on his shoulders.

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In the sanctuary, Klaus dismissed the broken elf with a flick of his hand. Shadows swallowed the trembling figure, dragging him back into darkness.

He turned to leave when the air behind him stirred.

Necrolord emerged, his hollow eyes gleaming faintly. "My lord" he said in his voice that carried silence

"there is someone who requests your audience."

Klaus raised a brow. "Who?"

"A noble of Lion heart," Necrolord replied. "He calls himself… Kaiden."

For the first time in days, Klaus' lips curved into something resembling interest.