Mount Meru…
At the summit of Mount Meru Kent sat beside Sparky, the baby dragon, whose once vibrant scales now looked dull and lifeless.
Seven long days had passed since Kent had fed Sparky the golden liquid extracted from the feather found on the shrine of Eternal Sands. What had begun as a joyous moment had now turned into a heartbreaking trial.
Since day one, it began losing it’s strength bit by bit. It’s ability to breath fire was already stopped and it’s breathing became heavy like an old hog.
Sparky lay motionless on the ground, its breaths shallow, its once bright, innocent eyes now dim with exhaustion.
Jean, Gunji Zing, Fatty Ben, Mohini, and Ruby, watched from a distance, their faces filled with concern. None of them dared to approach too closely, fearing they might disturb the fragile state of the baby dragon.
Many spectators of eternal musical hall were also curiously checking baby dragon’s state very often.
Kent, however, had not left Sparky’s side for even a moment. His eyes were bloodshot from sleepless nights, and his hands trembled from the constant care he provided. But he didn’t complain. To him, Sparky was more than just a dragon; it was family, a companion that had stood by him through countless battles and hardships.
8th Day…
The morning sun bathed the mountaintop in golden light, but its warmth did little to ease the cold dread that hung over the group. Kent knelt beside Sparky, gently lifting its head to help it drink a concoction he had prepared. The mixture contained rare herbs he had gathered from the slopes of Mount Meru, each chosen for its restorative properties.
“Come on, drink it.” Kent whispered, his voice soft but filled with determination. “Just a little more. You need to stay strong.”
Sparky let out a weak growl, barely audible, but obediently lapped at the liquid Kent offered. Kent smiled faintly, stroking the dragon’s small horns. “That’s it. Good boy. You’re doing great.”
Jean approached cautiously, holding a cloth soaked in warm water. “Here,” she said, handing it to Kent. “You need to wipe his scales again. They’re cracking from the dryness.”
Kent nodded, taking the cloth and gently cleaning Sparky’s scales. “He’s shedding his old self,” Kent muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “This is the hardest part of the evolution.”
Gunji Zing folded her arms, her face filled with worry. “Kent, you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. You need to rest.”
“How can I rest in this situation? The evolution of dragon seems more cruel than anything.” Kent muttered in a serious tone.
With a helpless face Jean and Gunji walked away, leaving Kent and baby dragon alone on the top of Meru mountain.
By midday, Sparky’s condition seemed to worsen. The dragon whimpered in pain, its body shivering as if caught in a storm. Kent placed both hands on Sparky’s chest, channeling a steady flow of his energy into the dragon’s core.
“Easy…easy… breath… take a deep breath,” Kent said in a consoling tone. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
Fatty Ben, who had been silently watching, finally spoke up. “Master, are you sure this evolution is worth it? Look at him… he’s suffering.”
Kent turned to Fatty, his expression resolute. “Sparky isn’t just a dragon, Ben. He’s a being with a destiny. If he can survive this, he’ll become a Guardian Beast, one of the strongest creatures in existence. I can’t let him fail.”
Ruby, the phoenix lady, stepped forward to touch the baby dragon. “A Guardian Beast is not born easily,” she said softly. “The trial is as much about endurance as it is about transformation. But… it’s rare for anyone to survive it.”
Kent became silent and observed the baby dragon with a serious look.
Throughout the night, Kent continued to care for Sparky. He sang softly to the dragon, a melody he had learned during his travels—a song of courage and perseverance. He fed Sparky small pieces of spirit fruit, coaxing the dragon to eat despite its pain.
“You’ve always been strong. You’ve fought beside me, protected me, and trusted me. Now, it’s my turn to be strong for you.” Kent whispered, stroking the dragon’s head.
The companions watched from a distance, their hearts heavy with emotion. Mohini wiped a tear from her eye. “I’ve never seen anyone care so much for a beast,” she said softly.
Jean nodded. “To Kent, Sparky isn’t just a beast. He’s family.”
–
No Man Island…
No Man Island lay blanketed in a heavy, unnatural silence, broken only by the occasional distant thud of mana blasts and the crashing waves of explosions.
The island’s defenders—what remained of the sworn wizards—were stretched thin, their faces worn with exhaustion and anxiety. The loss of nearly half their army still hung over them like a grim shadow, and the overwhelming presence of the Nine Realms Army on the distant horizon loomed as a constant reminder of their precarious position.
Madam Clark stood at the edge of the command tent, her sharp gaze fixed on the distant enemy army. Her long, flowing robes fluttered lightly in the wind as she clenched her fists behind her back. Beside her, Supreme Sword Magus Elarin leaned casually against a post, though his relaxed demeanor betrayed nothing of the storm raging within him.
“We can’t hold them off forever,” Elarin finally said, his voice calm yet laced with underlying frustration. “The nine realms army grows bolder with each passing hour. Jason Mama and his forces are playing the waiting game, and we’re running out of time.”
Madam Clark didn’t respond immediately, her piercing eyes scanning the smoke-filled horizon where the enemy’s forces lay. The silence stretched between them like a taut string.
She exhaled deeply. “I know,” she admitted. “We’re walking on the edge of a blade. If Jason Mama pushes harder, this island will fall within days.”
Elarin’s expression darkened. “Then what are we waiting for? Let me lead an assault now. We may not have enough to win, but I can buy us time.”
“No.” Madam Clark’s voice was firm, her authority absolute. “That’s exactly what Jason Mama wants. A reckless assault will play right into his hands. We need to drag this out. Stretch the war as long as possible.”
Elarin raised an eyebrow. “And then what? Hope for a miracle?”
Madam Clark turned to face him, her gaze steady and unyielding. “Not hope. A certainty. Kent will return. He is our only chance.”
At the mention of Kent’s name, Elarin’s hardened expression softened slightly. “You’re betting everything on him?” he asked.
“Yes,” Clark said without hesitation. “He’s stronger than any of us, and he has the will to face what lies ahead. You saw what he achieved in few days. If anyone can turn this war around, it’s him.”
Elarin sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. But we’ll need to keep morale up while we wait for him. The soldiers are growing restless. They’re scared.”
Madam Clark’s gaze turned toward the makeshift encampments scattered across the island, where sworn wizards huddled in silence, their faces etched with worry. “Then remind them what they’re fighting for. Tell them that Kent is coming. That he will lead us to victory.”
Elarin smirked faintly. “It’s a good story. Let’s hope it becomes reality.”
As they stood side by side, watching the horizon, the faint sound of enemy mana blasts echoed in the distance. The war was far from over, but they held onto the fragile thread of hope that Kent’s return would change everything.
–
Thank you for golden tickets guys…
