By “barrier,” Kaelan was referring to Hazerion’s bloodline ability, ‘Scales of the Overlord.’ Unlike the other dragon clans, the royal one didn’t inherently possess the exact same dragon crest. Instead, they possessed parts of the full crest that the first proud dragon overlord, the dragon god, had all over his body.
What this meant for them was that each royal family member would possess the crest most compatible with them. However, it wasn’t impossible for a royal family member to be born with more than one crest at the same time, as was the case with the second heir, who had three crests on his body.
Although there were also cases where a member born with one crest later awakened another, such instances in dragon history can be counted on one hand.
Hazerion’s expression seemed to change slightly as if the question somewhat unsettled him. He looked slightly downcast, although the rest of his generals couldn’t tell because they hadn’t known him for long. Kaelan, who had always been by his side, could instantly tell, although he chose to say nothing of it.
~’I’m sure he’s trying as hard as he can. Asking like that must have put pressure on him.’~ Alister heard Kaelan thinking to himself.
….
Hazerion’s gaze lingered on Kaelan for a moment before he rose from his throne. “Kaelan,” he said calmly.
“Follow me.”
Kaelan immediately bowed, his armored fist once again crossing over his chest.
“As you command, my lord.”
He replied, rising swiftly to his feet. He moved, following Hazerion as they exited the throne
room.
As they passed through the massive golden doors, Kaelan glanced briefly back at the throne
room.
The doors slowly shut behind them, the sound echoing through the corridors. Hazerion walked at a calm pace, his silver hair swaying gently with each step, while Kaelan kept a respectful distance behind him.
Back in the throne room, the silence that followed Hazerion and Kaelan’s departure was quickly broken by one of the remaining generals.
A tall, broad-shouldered dragon knight with deep blue and white hair, with some of his blue scales shimmering on his body, stepped forward.
His name was General Seraphis Von Azure-Void, a sky dragon well known for his calm demeanor and strategic mind.
Seraphis turned to Lyria.
“Do you believe our lord will be able to master his ability before the darkness eventually arrives?”
Lyria considered the question carefully before responding.
“Our lord has great potential…”
“…but the strength of his bloodline ability is one that matures with age. Just as our scales grow harder over time, so too does his power. Trying to push him too quickly will yield little progress. The barrier is not something that can be rushed.”
Seraphis nodded, though his expression remained troubled. “Then time is not on our side,” he murmured, more to himself than to Lyria.
Before Lyria could respond, another voice cut through the room-a voice that most of the generals in the room found most unpleasant.
General Neli’raj Von Abyss-Void, an Black Drake-an evil clan that exists to carry out an Overlord’s devious deeds so he need not sully himself. Often mistaken as members of the Abkis-Void clan due to both having similar qualities, like their silver hair, red eyes, black scales and black horns.
But unlike them, and all the other clans, the Abyss-Void clan took pride and pleasure in being as ruthless, cunning, underhanded, and nefarious as possible. Their bloodline ability, ‘No Order,’ allowed them to temporarily alter or disregard certain laws-Celestial or physical- but it could only be used on one law at a time, and the law could only be disregarded to the extent of their mastery of their crest.
Although their loyalty to their lord was never questionable, for it was to serve that was their whole reason for existing, all dragons couldn’t help but feel uneasy around them. They were the reverse scale of dragon nature, and most didn’t completely accept or even see them as dragons.
Neli’raj leaned forward from where he stood. His presence was unsettling, his expression twisted into a grin that barely concealed his psychotic tendencies.
Neli’raj’s voice was sharp and taunting as he asked, “So, are we all doomed to die then?”
He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a perverse kind of amusement.
“If our lord cannot master his ability in time, will we all be reduced to nothing by the darkness?”
The question seemed to hang in the air, his words causing the air in the throne room to suddenly feel uneasy. The other generals exchanged glances, but no one spoke.
Neli’raj seemed to enjoy the discomfort he had caused, his grin widening as he watched for their reactions.
Lyria, however, did not flinch. She gazed back at Neli’raj.
“We are warriors…”
“…we face death every day. If it comes to that, we will fight to our last breath. But do not underestimate our lord. He may be young, but his resolve is strong, and his potential is vast. The darkness is formidable, but so are we.”
Neli’raj’s grin faded slightly, but he quickly grinned widely again, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at Lyria.
“Oh please, spare me the warrior crap. You, I, and the rest of us here all know we’re nothing but cowards. We didn’t want to die facing the darkness, and that was what drove us to swear our loyalty to the first heir.”
“Hoping his barrier that somehow protected him would do the same for us.”
“I mean, how wouldn’t we? We were terrified. Imagine a formless monster that not only ended the previous Overlord but took each of our clan heads out with him as well. That thing ended my father, and he already scared me to the point I couldn’t look at his face, so something taking him out completely shook me to my core.”
“Though watching the old man die was a delight in all the chaos, the face he made at the end got my blood all hot and pumping!”
Neli’raj’s dark chuckle echoed through the throne room, his twisted grin still plastered on his face. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he observed their reactions. Suddenly, another general stepped forward, he gave of a high and mighty aura. His hair was a deep crimson, matching the embers that flickered within his fiery gaze, a pair of deep red horns on the sides of his head.