Smoke churned through the pocket dimension like a living thing, thick plumes rolling in heavy spirals across the shattered ground. The air trembled with the aftershock of the last explosion, ripples of displaced reality flickering along the crystalline walls that barely held the battlefield together. Shards of glowing stone hovered in midair before dissolving into motes of dying light.
And in the midst of all that ruin, the Wolf King stood tall.
Balanced atop a suspended platform of molten crystal, the monarch's silhouette glowed with steady, unwavering flame. Blue-gold fire clung to his fur, moving with him like a royal mantle directed by will alone. His breath rose and fell in slow, measured rhythm. His aura pulsed gently, like a heartbeat that belonged to the continent itself.
He had not tired.
He had not weakened.
He stood unshaken.
Across the broken arena, Danny lay partially embedded in a jagged ridge of collapsed stone. His chest rose in shallow breaths. His eyes fluttered. A thin trickle of blood slid down his forehead and pooled at the corner of his mouth. When he exhaled, a weak spark flickered from his lips and died.
But he lived.
The crowd erupted with frantic relief—cheers, cries, groans of disbelief. Even the floating cameras—those which hadn't melted in the explosion—strained their runes to zoom in.
"HE'S ALIVE—DANNY'S STILL ALIVE—" Jimmy screamed into his mic, voice cracking. "OH THANK EVERYTHING THAT I'VE EVER PRAYED TO—WHICH WASN'T MUCH—BUT—"
Julian didn't even turn his head. His gaze remained locked on the Wolf King, eyes wide, voice hushed. "Look… look at him, Jimmy."
Jimmy blinked through the panic, turning his gaze toward the monarch.
Wolf King's flames burned just as bright as they had at the start. His stance had not shifted. His breathing had not quickened. His fur had not ruffled.
He was pristine.
Jimmy emitted a soft, horrified squeak. "Julian… I want my mom."
"That's reasonable," Julian murmured. "We might not survive this broadcast."
Danny groaned, the sound cracking loudly in the lingering silence. He pried his arm from beneath the broken stone, fingers digging into shattered crystal. Each breath came harder than the last, jagged edges of pain slicing through his ribs.
His head lolled forward. Blood dripped freely. His vision doubled, then tripled, then slowly realigned into something functional.
He forced his good arm beneath him.
"No…"
He tried to push.
"…not done."
His elbow wobbled, trembling violently. Sweat streamed down his brow.
Another push.
His knees slid beneath him, unsteady as newborn limbs.
He rose.
Not gracefully. Not in triumph. Not with any semblance of power.
But he rose.
He swayed, blinking through the blur. The Wolf King watched him with that same unreadable calm—even approving, in a way that sent a cold pulse through the hearts of some spectators.
"You refuse surrender," the King said, his voice curling through the dimension like rolling thunder, softened only by a monarch's patience. "Admirable."
Danny spat a streak of blood onto the fractured ground. "Still here."
"Stubbornness without power is simply death."
Danny's breath hitched. His chest tightened painfully. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and raised his head.
"You…don't get to decide that."
The King's flames brightened. A hint of almost-smile tugged at the corner of his muzzle. "Then show me, Golden Dragon."
Danny barely had time to tighten his stance before the Wolf King vanished in a flash of blue-gold fire.
What followed was not an attack.
It was a lesson in destruction.
The Wolf King materialized directly in front of Danny, a blur of unstoppable force. A palm strike collided with Danny's guard—hard enough to bend his spine backward with a sickening snap of muscle and bone. The force propelled him back across the broken battlefield, boots dragging trenches through molten crystal.
Before Danny could regain his footing, the King was behind him.
A heel crashed into Danny's back, launching him skyward like a ragdoll. The moment Danny's body hit its apex, the Wolf King was already above him—claws sheathed in burning light—descending in a flaming arc.
The strike sent Danny crashing through the floor, disintegrating a wide swath of crystal beneath him and birthing a new crater.
Danny lay motionless for half a heartbeat.
The instinct inside him howled.
Rise.
He forced a trembling arm beneath him, dragging air into bruised lungs.
The King moved beside him in an explosion of flame.
A claw swept downward.
Danny rolled away just as the blow carved a molten gouge into the arena where his chest would've been. He scrambled upright, gasping.
The King followed seamlessly, a storm made flesh. A spinning elbow cracked against Danny's jaw—Danny's vision flashed white—and before he could react, a flame arc slashed across his chest, hurling him backward through a glowing pillar.
Stone, smoke, and sparks flew in all directions.
The crowd erupted, not cheering but screaming. Even the wolf supporters grimaced at the raw ferocity.
Children covered their eyes. Some spectators prayed. Others cried silently. A few wolf warriors stood taller, proud of their King's absolute dominance.
But on the far side of the stands, the gambler Lionel clutched his head in absolute despair.
"I can't watch this—my heart—my wallet—my wife—WHY DID I BET AGAINST A KING—"
His friend sighed heavily. "We've been asking that about you for years."
Danny groaned again, louder this time, dragging attention back to the battlefield.
He coughed a spray of blood and staggered to one knee.
The voice inside him—raw, primal, ancient—surged up again like a storm ripping through his mind.
Let go.
Unleash.
Burn him. Burn the King. Burn the throne. Burn everything.
Danny squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head violently.
"No…"
His fingers dug into the crystal until they cracked.
"…not like this."
He forced the instinct back—wrestled it, shoved it, buried it under sheer will.
But doing so came at a cost.
His golden aura flickered like a dying candle.
The glow around his fists dimmed.
His muscles quivered.
The Wolf King noticed.
"You fight your nature," he said quietly, stepping closer. "As all dragons do. But you cannot walk two paths."
Danny grit his teeth. "I can. And I will."
"You cannot be both restraint and overwhelming power," the King said. "Choose. Or I will choose for you."
Danny's eyes narrowed. "You don't decide that. I do."
The Wolf King's expression softened—just a fraction.
"Then choose now."
He blurred again.
Danny barely raised his guard before the King reappeared mid-air, bringing both fists down like twin meteors.
The blow drove Danny into the ground with skull-rattling force. Cracks raced outward from the impact site. Danny rolled desperately aside as the King's heel slammed into the ground where his face would've been.
He staggered upright, swaying, instincts burning dangerously close to the surface.
His wings flickered—half-burned, twitching.
The King's silhouette loomed through the smoke, walking toward him with unhurried certainty.
Danny exhaled shakily.
His power surged in a jittering pulse.
He pushed forward regardless.
The Wolf King stopped just short of him.
"You continue to rise," he said quietly. There was something between respect and warning in his voice.
Danny lifted his fists again, though they trembled uncontrollably. "Not done."
The King lowered into a deeper stance—one Danny had never seen before.
A cold shock raced through Julian's voice. "Jimmy… Jimmy, that's—he's preparing a royal finishing stance—"
Jimmy shrieked, "HE'S WHAT NOW—?!"
It began with flame.
Three perfect rings of blue-gold fire spiraled into existence behind the Wolf King. They rotated in opposite directions, each ring weaving into the next like links of a celestial chain.
The temperature spiked.
The camera runes glitched violently.
Jimmy screamed, "WHY DOES EVERYTHING FEEL HOT—WE'RE NOT EVEN IN THE BUBBLE—"
Julian whispered, "This is lineage flame… a technique of kings. Danny must not take this strike head-on."
Danny stared at the forming sigil, sweat dripping down his brow in rivers.
"…that looks bad."
Jimmy nearly fainted. "DANNY, PLEASE—YOU CAN STILL FORFEIT—RETIRE—BECOME A FARMER—ANYTHING—"
The Wolf King's voice boomed.
"REGAL OVERTHROW."
The sigil fell like a miniature sun.
The explosion didn't roar.
It erased.
Fire washed across the dimension in a tidal wave of world-ending heat. The bubble walls screamed with runic distortion. Several cameras dissolved outright, reducing themselves to flickering sparks. The stands shook as though struck by an earthquake. Crowds screamed, stumbled, prayed.
Jimmy clung to Julian's jacket. "WE'RE GONNA DIE—JULIAN WE'RE GONNA DIE—WHY DO WE KEEP DOING THIS—"
Julian adjusted his glasses, voice shaking. "We are in a different dimension, Jimmy."
Danny stood in the inferno.
Barely.
His wings were charred. His arms trembled. Blood streaked his cheek, his lip, his chest. His clothes were scorched, golden aura thin and unstable around him.
He spat blood and forced himself upright.
"Still… not done."
For the first time, the Wolf King's expression shifted.
He was impressed.
"Remarkable," the King murmured. "You continue to rise."
Danny swayed, struggling to remain upright.
He took one step forward.
His knee buckled.
He collapsed onto both hands, craters forming beneath his palms.
Gasps swept the arena.
Danny's breath hitched. He pushed again, legs shaking violently.
He made it halfway upright before collapsing again.
The Wolf King approached with the solemnity of an executioner.
"This is where your climb ends," he said. "You have fought well. But the peak is not for you."
Danny's fingers curled against the floor.
His voice rasped. "I'm… not done."
Wolf King lowered into the deepest stance of his style, flames thickening around his limbs, gathering at his claw's tip like a forming star.
Julian slammed his hand against his console. "He's preparing the final strike! A king's finishing blow—Danny cannot withstand this—!"
Jimmy screamed into the mic, "SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING—PLEASE—DANNY GET UP—I BELIEVE IN YOU—BUT ALSO STOP FIGHTING KINGS—"
Wolf King raised his flaming claw high.
A miniature sun formed at the tip, dense enough to warp air around it, dragging gravity into distorted curves.
Danny forced his head up.
His body wouldn't move.
His arms refused.
His legs were dead weight.
His wings hung in tatters.
The Wolf King's shadow covered him.
"You have exceeded all expectations," the King said. "But the crown claims this battlefield."
He brought the blow down—
Danny's eyes snapped open.
His pupils dilated.
A violent spark shredded through the fog of exhaustion.
A surge—
a pulse—
a flood—
a tidal wave of golden energy erupted beneath him, cracking the arena outward like a sun being born inside the dimension.
Danny roared—
the King's final strike collided with something massive—
the dimension ruptured—
light swallowed everything—
everything—
everything—