CHAPTER 31: CHAPTER 28.5 : THE DRAGON IS POLITICAL

In the Continent of Divine Majesty

A land above the skies,

The homeland of dragons in the magic world.

A place surrounded by towering mountain ranges and an ocean of pure energy—

an ocean that only those of dragon blood can cross.

Floating mountains drift through the air like ancient sentinels,

and the Sea of Clouds swirls below.

A realm where dragons soar freely across the sky,

their wings tearing through mist and storm like divine blades.

Amidst all this wonder and wrath,

in the heart of it all,

upon the Throne of the Dragon King

sat a man.

A figure of overwhelming presence, majestic and terrifying.

His eyes burned like molten gold,

his voice rumbled like thunder sealed in flesh.

He rose from his throne, his aura radiating overwhelming power that forced every being to their knees, and spoke:

"Today I summoned all of you for one reason: to reclaim our pride and fearlessness. We shall conquer this world. The last king chose peace, but I will not. I am war. No more phoenixes. No more Astrals, Vyther, or the Mistborn. No more laziness. We shall not kneel. From today, a new era begins for the new dragon generation. We will demolish everything. We will rule the world. And whoever rebels against us will face death.

From now on, any mid-power dragon shall conquer a territory and make themselves a queen or king there. Start now."

He withdrew his aura, signaling the dragons that they had his permission.

With a roar that shook the skies, the dragons began moving and departed, each taking flight to claim their territory.

In the sky, a white dragon soared over the vast, frozen expanse.

Her piercing gaze fell upon two giants locked in combat. Without a moment’s hesitation, she descended with terrifying grace, and with a single strike of her legs, decapitated them both.

"Pathetic, low creatures," she hissed, her voice echoing like ice cracking across the mountains.

She let out a roar so powerful that the snowy mountains trembled like an earthquake.

The dragon devoured the two giants and then transformed into a woman draped in a flowing, semi-transparent robe that shimmered like falling snow.

Her long white hair cascaded down her back like silk, and her eyes—completely white, devoid of pupils—glowed with an eerie stillness.

A radiant mark pulsed on her forehead, ancient and unreadable.

Isphyriela—the White Dragon Queen—landed on the icy land.

She walked slowly, admiring the beautiful landscape.

She came upon a massive mountain, and with a single punch, she created a deep, long hole through it.

Then, she unleashed her magic, etching the emblem of a white dragon deep into the mountain, a mark of dominion over all that lay before her.

She rested within the cavern for a full month, her slumber as deep and silent as the frozen land itself.

When she finally awoke, a slow, deliberate yawn escaped her, and she stepped out of the cave, snow crunching beneath her claws.

"Now... let us seek out the other creatures," she declared, her voice carrying the weight of absolute authority.

She transformed into a massive white dragon and soared over the frozen expanse, her wings stirring storms across the land as she surveyed her territory.

From above, she spotted a white tiger clan. With a sinister grace, she reverted to her human form and plunged from the sky like a falling mountain, crashing into the ground with such force that the snow and ice shattered in a vast radius, sending shockwaves through the land and crushing two tiger men beneath her feet.

Isphyriela began devouring their bodies, her presence sending waves of terror through the white tiger clan—even the children trembled uncontrollably, so terrified that they urinated from fear.

She raised a hand, commanding the remaining clan members to bring her to their king or queen.

When none dared respond, her patience snapped. She slaughtered them all, severing their heads with ruthless precision before devouring them.

The tiger king sensed something strange in his land and ran toward the source... only to witness the most horrific scene: his clan—his children, even the babies—were all dead.

Only Isphyriela stood there, smiling, wiping the blood from her lips.

The tiger king attacked with all his strength, but she caught his punch with her bare hand.

"Hey, little cat... you should obey your new master."

Without warning, the tiger king’s right hand was severed and fell to the ground. He tried to bite her, only for her to decapitate him. His head hit the ground, a single tear still on his cheek.

"Hmm... this king’s body is filled with mana. I think I need more high-quality meat."

Amid the carnage, a teenage tiger froze in fear.

Isphyriela placed her hand on his head and said:

"Go. Warn the other clans. Take your king’s head as a message.

And tell them this, you filthy, pathetic creatures:

All of you will kneel before me, become my slaves, and pay tribute... or witness the hell of dragons."

The teen tiger took his father’s head and ran as if tomorrow would never come.

Deep inside the forest, he let out a guttural roar and wept:

"Faaaaaather... Mother... Brotheeeer...

My entire clan... they’re all dead."

The teen tiger carried his father’s head to the other clans as a warning.

The remaining four clans held a conference. After hearing his message and seeing the ruins of the tiger clan, they realized the truth—everyone was dead.

They began preparing for war.

The Blue Elves, the White Ghouls, the White Wolves, and the Serpent Clan united, along with the teen tiger.

Each gathered their armies and marched toward Isphyriela’s cave.

She landed from the sky.

Without warning, she began killing. In her eyes, their refusal to kneel was rebellion.

She fought with terrifying might. The battlefield became a storm of ice and blood.

Each clan leader fell—one by one—their heads severed and frozen solid by her breath.

The teen tiger charged, shouting, "I will avenge my clan!"

Only to be cut into pieces.

The rest of their warriors, faced with her fury, abandoned all thought of resistance. They bowed in silence.

Even the sons and daughters of the clan leaders submitted, as their leaders were already dead.

It was the day the clans’ pride and rule were shattered, sacrificing themselves for their own lives.

The frozen heads of every clan king now stood impaled before her cave—a warning to the world.

As silence fell over the snowy wasteland, Isphyriela looked down upon the corpses and lifted her voice, declaring:

"From today until your deaths, all of you shall be my slaves. From now on, this land belongs to the dragons and is under my absolute rule.

Whoever dares to oppose me will be killed.

This... is the beginning of worship.”

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The Readers’ Archive

Astrals ( The Sons of Stars):

Born from the very energy of the stars, the Astrals are starborn beings who embody the power and wisdom of the cosmos. Each Astral is linked to a specific star, drawing strength and life from its radiant energy. They are neither fully mortal nor entirely divine, existing as intermediaries between the magical world and the universe itself.

The Astrals belong to the Aetherion, the ancient and mysterious primordial race from which all star-born beings descend. The Aetherion have vanished, their whereabouts unknown, and the purpose of the Astrals is to seek their lost progenitors and uncover the secrets of their origins. Their allegiance connects them to the deepest cosmic powers, granting them wisdom and strength far beyond most earthly creatures.

Their presence alone can shift the balance of power in any land. With the power to unleash destructive stellar energy, foresee events before they unfold, and manipulate cosmic forces, the Astrals are both revered and feared across all realms.

They are the children of the stars, bound to the will of the Aetherion, destined to shine—and to burn—wherever the universe wills, while relentlessly searching for their vanished ancestors.