The Unrivaled Holder: Rise of the Dragon Monarch

The battlefield lay in eerie silence.

Both Verdant Regent and I lay collapsed, neither victorious nor defeated. Our fight had pushed us beyond our limits, and neither of us had the strength to stand.

Fafnir and Ingi stepped forward, their sharp gazes locking onto the remaining elves.

Ingi, his voice steady yet commanding, spoke first. "The duel has ended in a draw. That means neither side has claimed victory." His golden eyes flickered with intensity. "By that logic, we should be allowed to continue on our path without further interference."

Fafnir snorted, arms crossed. "Yeah. You wanted a fight, you got one. Now step aside."

The elves murmured among themselves, their bows still drawn, their magic still charged. The tension was thick, and for a moment, it seemed like a battle might break out after all.

But before any of them could respond—

A burst of radiant light engulfed the battlefield.

A blinding force swallowed everything.

The moment the light faded, I felt the weight of solid ground beneath me. The air was heavy with magic, thick and ancient.

I forced my aching body upright, scanning my surroundings.

We were no longer on the battlefield.

The terrain around us was vast, an endless field of white marble and towering trees of gold. The sky above shimmered in hues of violet and silver, as if we had been transported into another realm entirely.

"Where… are we?" Cedrick muttered, raising his shield defensively.

Adrian's hands crackled with arcane energy, his stance guarded. "This isn't teleportation magic I've seen before. This is something else entirely."

Chad readied his spear, eyes narrowing. "Be on guard. We don't know who brought us here."

Fafnir and Ingi had already moved protectively toward me, their gazes scanning the area for threats.

But before any of us could act—

A figure materialized before us.

She did not arrive with the sound of footsteps or a gust of wind—she simply was there.

Queen Luviyah.

The Elven Queen stood tall, her regal presence more overwhelming than anything we had felt before. Her silver hair cascaded like flowing starlight, her golden eyes sharp and unreadable. She did not radiate magic—she was magic.

Beside her, Verdant Regent still lay motionless.

Without a word, the Queen stepped toward him, her expression unreadable. She reached out, her fingers gently brushing against his forehead.

Soft words left her lips, words woven with power.

"The winds that guide, the light that heals, let thy wounds fade into nothingness."

A warm, golden glow enveloped Verdant Regent's body. His breathing steadied, his wounds sealing in an instant. The elven warriors around us watched in reverence.

Then—she turned to me.

I barely had time to react before I felt the same warmth surround me. My wounds, my exhaustion, the deep Magicore drain I had suffered—all of it faded.

My body felt restored, but my mind remained on edge.

The Queen lowered her hand, her golden eyes locking onto mine.

Then, she spoke.

"Why do you seek Zarathorak?"

Her voice was smooth, yet each word carried weight—a weight that demanded truth.

"What are your motives?"

The tension in the air thickened.

"Depending on the answers you give me," she continued, "I may spare you."

The elves around us gripped their weapons, waiting for my response.

I took a breath, steadying myself. Then, I spoke.

"We need to reach Zarathorak. We have business with him, and we don't have time to waste." My voice was firm, unwavering. "That's all there is to it."

The Queen's expression remained unreadable. "Business, you say."

Her tone shifted, a dangerous edge creeping into it. "Then, you already know of his nature."

I clenched my fists. "We do."

For the first time, something flickered in her gaze—cold opposition.

"And yet," she said, "you still insist on going to him?"

Before I could respond, the air around us changed.

A pressure unlike anything I had felt before descended upon us.

A crushing, suffocating force—her aura.

My knees nearly buckled. My breath hitched as an unbearable weight pressed against my shoulders, as if the heavens themselves sought to crush me.

Fafnir let out a growl, his teeth clenched. Chad, Adrian, and Cedrick struggled to stand firm. Even Ronan, agile and swift, tensed as if caught in invisible binds.

We weren't just feeling her magic.

We were feeling her authority.

I gritted my teeth, my body refusing to fall.

Then—a golden barrier erupted around us.

The crushing force vanished.

Ingi stood at the center of the group, his hand outstretched, his eyes burning with power. His barrier magic had shielded us.

The Queen's gaze flickered toward him. For the first time, a hint of acknowledgment crossed her face.

"Hmm, Impressive," she murmured.

But the moment was brief.

A sharp whistle echoed through the air.

In an instant, the entire area was surrounded.

From the golden trees and marble ground, thousands of elves materialized.

Bows drawn. Blades unsheathed. Spells charged.

And standing at their head, flanking the Queen herself, were **her Supreme Officers—**elven warriors clad in celestial armor, their auras rivaling even the strongest beings we had encountered.

We were completely surrounded.

The Queen's voice was calm, but unwavering.

"Your business with Zarathorak is over."

"You will not leave this place alive."

I took a sharp breath, shaking off the lingering weight of her aura. Then, I scoffed.

"What's the purpose of healing me if you plan on killing me anyway? Isn't that a dumb idea?"

The elves flinched, their gazes snapping toward their queen, waiting for her response.

But before she could speak, one of her Supreme Officers stepped forward, his face twisting with fury.

"Who are you to judge Her Majesty's decision, lowly creature?!" he spat, his voice laced with venom.

He lunged forward, blade drawn, his killing intent sharp and undeniable.

Only to slam into Ingi's barrier.

A sharp crack echoed through the space as golden light repelled him mid-air, sending him staggering back. The moment he landed, his teeth clenched in frustration, his eyes flickering with rage.

The barrier still held.

The Supreme Officer's hands glowed with elven magic as he prepared to break through, but before he could act—

"Stand down."

The Queen's voice was calm, but the power behind it was absolute.

The officer hesitated only for a fraction of a second before immediately freezing in place. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to swallow his rage, then stepped back beside her, his hands clenched into fists.

Luviyah's gaze never left mine. Her voice was level. "I heal those who deserve to live. I kill those who do not. Whether you fall into the former or the latter depends on your answers. I only follow what must be done."

Her words carried finality.

I held her gaze, unflinching.

Then, just as she parted her lips to speak again—

She coughed.

The sound was sharp at first, but it quickly turned wet and strained. Her fingers twitched slightly, then slowly rose to her lips.

When she pulled her hand away, blood stained her fingertips.

Gasps erupted from the elven ranks.

"Your Majesty?!" One of her Supreme Officers stepped forward in alarm.

Another officer took a cautious step closer. "My Queen, should we return to the palace?"

Luviyah inhaled sharply, composing herself, and waved a dismissive hand. "I am fine."

But even as she spoke, her body betrayed her.

A faint, glowing mark flickered into existence on her forehead.

The moment I saw it, my breath hitched.

A stigmata.

The same one that had been placed on Fafnir's hand.

I narrowed my eyes. "Isn't that… a stigmata?"

The elves froze.

The Supreme Officers stiffened, their expressions shifting from concern to pure disbelief.

Luviyah's golden eyes widened ever so slightly. Her fingers hesitated before lightly touching the mark.

Then—Fafnir lifted his own hand.

The same exact mark pulsed on his skin, flickering in rhythm with the one on the Queen's forehead.

An eerie silence stretched across the battlefield.