The Unrivaled Holder: Rise of the Dragon Monarch

As the cold winds of the Obsidian Wastes howled around us, I crossed my arms and looked at the group. "Before we head to the Ruined Spire, there's something we need to do first."

Fafnir raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"We need to return to the Elven Palace and inform Luviyah that we've successfully lifted the curse. She might be interested in removing it herself."

Zarathorak scoffed, his crimson eyes narrowing. "And why would I do that?" He crossed his arms, his irritation clear. "That elf queen is the one who drove me off her precious borders and forced me to dig my way into that cursed cavern just to rest. You want me to just walk back there like nothing happened?"

I met his gaze, unshaken. "You don't have to like it. But you know she's strong. If we're going to face whatever calamity is coming, we need to eliminate every possible weakness—and that means removing the curse from her too."

Fafnir nodded. "He's right. If she's freed from it, she won't be weakened if we need her strength."

Zarathorak clicked his tongue in frustration but didn't argue further. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at me. "And how exactly do you plan to find her?"

"Last time, she just appeared out of nowhere and teleported you. Do you even know where that palace is?" Ingi blurted out

I sighed. "That's the problem. I have no idea where to go."

Ingi, who had been silently listening, finally spoke. "I may know a way."

We all turned to him.

"The elves guard their homeland with powerful illusions and ancient magic," Ingi explained. "But if she truly wanted us dead back then, she would've done it. Instead, she let us go, which means she may be watching from the shadows." His golden eyes gleamed. "If we make enough noise, she'll come to us."

Zarathorak smirked. "Heh. So we just have to stir the pot, then?"

I exhaled. "Seems like it." I turned to the group. "So, before we head to the Ruined Spire, we find a way to get Luviyah's attention."

Fafnir cracked his knuckles. "That, we can do."

"Alright," I said, turning to Ingi. "You said we need to make noise. What kind of noise are we talking about?"

Ingi stroked his beard, his golden eyes thoughtful. "The elves are highly sensitive to magical disturbances. If we release a strong enough pulse of magic, it should disrupt their barriers and force them to investigate."

Fafnir exhaled, already rolling his shoulders. "So you want us to just… release our magic into the air?"

"No," Ingi shook his head. "Not just any magic. Dragon magic."

Zarathorak smirked. "I see where this is going." He spread his arms slightly, his powerful aura beginning to rise. "If it's raw dragon energy you need, then we might as well give the elves a reason to panic."

I felt the air grow heavier as both Zarathorak and Fafnir began radiating their power. Magicore pressure surged around us like an invisible storm, distorting the very air. Even Ingi, though composed, released a faint golden aura, adding to the overwhelming force.

I stepped back, watching as the very ground beneath us cracked under the intensity. If the elves weren't aware of us yet, they would be soon.

Zarathorak chuckled darkly. "Let's see how long it takes for their queen to show up."

For a few moments, nothing happened. The wind howled, the energy around us churned violently, and then—The sky split open.

A blinding golden light descended upon us, swallowing the darkened Wastes in an instant. The presence was unmistakable—powerful, ancient, and undeniably elven.

As the radiance faded, we saw her.

Luviyah, the Queen of Elves, floated in the air before us, alongside her thousand army. And her emerald eyes piercing through the light. Her regal robes billowed as her silver hair gleamed under the sun. She was calm, but the aura she exuded was anything but.

"What is the meaning of this?" Her voice was composed yet carried a dangerous edge. "Do you intend to challenge the Elven Kingdom, or is there another reason you would shake the very foundations of our land?"

I took a step forward, standing my ground. "We needed to get your attention."

Luviyah's gaze flickered between us before narrowing slightly. "You risk much by disturbing the balance." Then her gaze fell upon Fafnir. "And you, dragon. Have you come to fight?"

Fafnir exhaled and shook his head. "No. We came to talk."

Luviyah's sharp eyes studied us for a moment before she slowly descended, her feet touching the ground. "Then speak. And it had better be worth my time."

I took a deep breath and stepped forward, standing firmly before Queen Luviyah. Her piercing emerald eyes locked onto mine, unreadable yet demanding an answer.

"We did it," I said plainly. "The curse is gone."

For a moment, she said nothing, but her expression darkened. Her Supreme Officers, who had appeared behind her in a flash of silver light, stiffened.

Fafnir lifted his arm, revealing his stigma-free hand. "See for yourself, Queen of Elves."

Luviyah's gaze flickered to the spot where the stigmata once was. Though she showed little emotion, the slight narrowing of her eyes told me she was paying close attention.

"Impossible…" she murmured, but her voice carried no disbelief, only suspicion.

I nodded. "It's true. We managed to lift the curse placed upon Fafnir." I gestured toward Zarathorak, who stood with his arms crossed. "We used the blood of a dragon. Specifically, Zarathorak's."

The queen's gaze slowly shifted toward the Bloodweaver, her expression unreadable. He met her stare with a scowl, clearly still holding onto his bitterness toward her.

Luviyah turned back to me, her voice calm yet sharp. "And you believe this method can work on me as well?"

I nodded. "Yes."

She was silent for a long time, then, as if she were weighing the risks. Her Supreme Officers shifted uncomfortably, their loyalty evident in their tense postures.

Finally, Luviyah spoke. "What proof do you have that it will work?"

Fafnir scoffed. "Isn't it obvious? I stand before you, free from the mark."

"That is not proof," she countered coldly. "It is an exception."

I sighed. "Look, Queen Luviyah. Whether you believe it or not, the fact remains: the stigmata can be removed. And considering how long you've lived with that curse, I'd think you'd at least be interested in trying."

The queen's fingers curled slightly. "It is not a matter of interest." Her voice was softer now, almost thoughtful. "It is a matter of trust."

Zarathorak scoffed, stepping forward. "You're one to talk about trust, elf. After everything you've done to me, why should I even care about helping you?"

Her officers bristled, but Luviyah merely closed her eyes briefly, as if gathering herself. Then she opened them and looked directly at Zarathorak.

"I do not expect your kindness, Bloodweaver." Her voice carried a weight of something deeper—not quite regret, but acknowledgment. "But I will not deny that I wish to be free of this burden."

She then turned to me once more. "Tell me, human… What exactly do you need from me?"

I exhaled, relieved that she was at least considering it. "First, we need you to cooperate. If you want the curse removed, you'll have to trust us."

"And second," Zarathorak added, "you're going to have to drink dragon's blood."

At that, the Supreme Officers tensed immediately, and even Luviyah's expression faltered slightly.

"…Dragon's blood?" she repeated, a flicker of unease passing through her emerald eyes.

Zarathorak smirked. "What? Scared?"

The queen shot him a glare, but her fingers tightened around the fabric of her robe. She was clearly weighing her options.

"What's wrong, Elf Queen? You seemed so high and mighty before, but now that you have to drink my blood, you hesitate?" His smirk widened. "Don't tell me you're afraid."

Luviyah's gaze snapped to him, sharp as a blade, but she didn't immediately respond.

Zarathorak continued, clearly enjoying himself. "I thought you elves prided yourselves on your resilience. Or maybe, deep down, you know that your kind aren't as strong as they claim to be?"

One of her Supreme Officers took a step forward, hand gripping the hilt of his blade. "You dare insult our queen?!"

Luviyah lifted a hand, signaling for silence. Her officer hesitated but obeyed. Then, she exhaled slowly and turned her eyes back to us, her expression cold and composed once more.

"I am not afraid," she said, her voice steady. "I simply find it difficult to trust a dragon who still holds a grudge against me."

Zarathorak snorted. "That's fair. But let's get one thing straight—you won't actually be drinking my blood."

The Supreme Officers visibly relaxed at those words, though Luviyah remained still, her gaze unreadable.

I stepped in, rolling my shoulders. "The method we used on fafnir doesn't involve drinking blood. That part was just Zarathorak being an ass."

Zarathorak gave a mock gasp. "Me? An ass? I would never."

I sighed. "Look, Queen Luviyah. The real process involves using the dragon's blood as a medium for the ritual. It's absorbed into the stigmata, and through that, the curse is broken. No drinking involved."

Luviyah's eyes narrowed slightly, as if studying our faces for deception. After a moment, she finally spoke.

"…And you believe this will work?"

I took a step closer, my tone shifting to something smoother, lighter. "Come on, Queen Luviyah. Someone as elegant as you shouldn't have to bear a cursed mark, especially not on your face."

Her golden eyes flicked toward me, cautious yet intrigued. I smiled. "It would be a shame if such beauty were marred by something as foul as a demon's curse."

Behind me, Zarathorak let out an exaggerated groan. "Oh, great. He's trying to charm his way through this."

Fafnir rolled his eyes. "Typical."

I ignored them, keeping my focus on Luviyah. "You've carried this curse for over a hundred years, haven't you? You deserve to be free from it." I gestured toward Fafnir. "We've proven that it works. The ritual is safe. And, more importantly…" I gave her a confident grin. "I'd hate to see such a beautiful face stained by something so unworthy."

A brief silence.

One of her Supreme Officers looked ready to draw his weapon in outrage, but Luviyah lifted a single hand to stop him. She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, there was the faintest hint of amusement—just a flicker, barely noticeable.

"…Flattery will get you nowhere," she said, though her voice was calmer now.

Zarathorak scoffed. "Oh, please. It's working."

Luviyah ignored him and turned to me. "You are persistent," she admitted. "And despite your arrogance, your words are not entirely unpleasant."

Fafnir muttered under his breath, "That's the closest thing to a compliment I've ever heard from her."

I took the opportunity to press forward. "Then let us help you. No tricks, no deception. Just the same method we used on Fafnir."

Luviyah remained silent for a moment, then closed her eyes once more.

"…Fine."

She looked back at me, her regal composure returning. "I will allow you to proceed. But if I sense even the slightest danger, I will not hesitate to stop you."

I nodded, grinning. "Fair enough."

Zarathorak smirked, shaking his head. "Took you long enough."

Fafnir sighed. "Let's get this over with."