Throughout the world, one fact remained indisputable: the Black Dragons were the apex race of all monsters and beasts. While both White and Black dragons were capable of speech, a Black Dragon King was a different category of existence entirely. He possessed the unique ability to take a humanoid form and wielded between five and seven distinct, high-level skills.
History recorded only one instance where a Black Dragon King was allowed to reach maturity, and it had required the combined might of every Legendary and S-Rank warrior of that era to slay it. That age was unique—it was the only time in history when six of the seven Primordial Skills existed simultaneously.
The biological growth of these creatures was equally terrifying. While a standard Black Dragon required ten years to mature and lived for a millennium, a King was immortal. It took only ten days for a King to reach full maturity, and he was immune to death by natural causes.
At sunrise the following day, the fifty-three S-Ranks gathered at the palace. After a self-glorifying speech by Captain Azreal, the expedition began. They traveled in a massive carriage caravan toward the mountain range where the birth was prophesied.
The Captain's formation was built solely on his personal biases: the high S-Ranks were placed in the vanguard, while the "weakest" were relegated to the rear. Leon, based on his falsified stats, was kept at the very end of the line. They encountered various monsters during the five-day journey, but none could stand against the concentrated power of an S-Rank legion.
When they finally arrived, the sky above the mountain was choked with darkness. Hundreds of Black Dragons circled the peak in a synchronized display—the Dragon's Parade—a cosmic welcoming ceremony for a higher being.
Captain Azreal immediately began barking orders. His strategy was a classic display of arrogance over tactics:
The Elite Core: Azreal took the twenty-five highest-ranked S-Ranks for himself, intending to charge directly into the heart of the mountain.
The Flanks: He divided the remaining twenty-eight adventurers into two groups of fourteen.
He ordered the flanking parties to scale the east and west sides of the mountain respectively, while he claimed the glory of the direct assault.
Leon stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. He countered the plan, suggesting that splitting the force so thinly while surrounded by hundreds of drakes was a death sentence for the weaker parties. He warned that the Captain was needlessly endangering lives.
Azreal's face flushed with rage. He scolded Leon publicly for challenging his authority, declaring that if Leon wished to remain part of the mission, he would shut his mouth and follow orders.
"Truly incompetent," Leon muttered to himself.
He didn't press the issue further. He simply turned and followed the weakest party as they began their trek toward the western slope, sensing the heavy scent of ozone and ancient malice thickening in the air.
A critical detail had been omitted from the mission briefing: during the Dragon's Parade, four Ancient Black Dragons are stationed to guard the North, South, East, and West cardinal points of the mountain. These sentinels are forbidden from leaving their posts until the King has fully matured.
Leon's party was the first to encounter one of these behemoths. Their group was led by an S-Rank gravity user named Lisa, and their objective was to fight through to the central mountain cave to regroup with the others.
The battle against the Ancient Dragon was a desperate struggle. Though a Black Dragon is far superior to a standard party of S-Rank adventurers, this sentinel's advanced age proved to be a disadvantage. Still, it did not fall easily. By the time the beast was finally defeated, the party was utterly exhausted, having given everything they had—with the exception of Leon, who had not participated in the fight.
The other parties eventually defeated their respective guardians. The Eastern party fared slightly better than the West, while Captain Azreal's elite group had the easiest victory; for a concentration of high-tier S-Ranks, an Ancient Dragon was child's play.
They all converged at the mountain's heart. In the center of the cavern stood a giant, obsidian-black dragon frozen within a transparent crystal. It was undeniable: the King had been born, and the incubation was already in its final stage.
After a brief, triumphant speech, Azreal commanded a full-scale assault on the crystal. Leon intervened once more, warning that the Black Dragon King was at the point of awakening and that they should retreat immediately to inform the King.
But once again, Azreal erupted in a scolding fury. He called Leon a weakling and a coward who was incapable of following orders. He turned to his elite team, delivering a frantically delusional speech of self-praise that drew cheers from the crowd. In his arrogance, he had completely forgotten the hundreds of dragons still parading above the mountain.
Leon shook his head in silence. Their leader was incompetent, and his pride was paving the road to their downfall.
The adventurers began their bombardment. They attacked the crystal from every angle with everything in their arsenal, hoping to kill the King before it could emerge. Leon simply sat at the edge of the tunnel, waiting for the inevitable. The King was in its final state of maturation, and the leader was too blinded by ego to see it.
Suddenly, the crystal shattered, revealing the sleeping monster within. The adventurers did not stop; they doubled their efforts, unleashing nuke-like blasts, maximum-intensity gravitational pulls, lightning strikes, and howling tornadoes.
The King remained unfazed. Amidst the endless barrage of attacks, the Black Dragon King slowly opened its eyes.
The moment the King's eyes opened, the atmosphere in the cavern turned to lead. In a blur of dark energy, the massive beast shifted into its humanoid form. Standing tall with wings that spanned the width of the chamber, his skin was a mosaic of obsidian dragon scales, and his eyes burned with a steady, crimson glow. His expression was a void of emotion—cold, ancient, and absolute.
As if reacting to his will, every entrance to the cave slammed shut, sealed by a dark barrier that pulsed with the weight of a Primordial Skill. They weren't just in a cave; they were in his tomb.
The Captain, once so full of bravado, was paralyzed. The collective "nuke-like" barrage of fifty-three S-Ranks had failed to leave even a microscopic scratch on the King's flesh. Panic rippled through the ranks as adventurers began launching desperate attacks at the exits, only to find the barrier as immovable as reality itself.
The Dragon King sat upon the jagged stone, his deep, thunderous voice shaking the very foundations of the mountain.
"Since you attacked first, I shall take that as a challenge," he declared. "You shall have five trials. The strongest among you must face me. If he leaves so much as a scratch upon my skin, you all shall be permitted to leave. If he fails, the next shall take his place. If after five trials no one has drawn blood... everyone dies."
"I accept!" Captain Azreal stepped forward, his pride still blinding him. "Do you think you scare me? I've been holding back. I am Azreal, the Superior S-Rank, and you will meet your end by my hand!"
"Very well," the Dragon King said, standing slowly.
Azreal smiled, surging with confidence. He activated his Lightning Mode, his body becoming a conduit for high-frequency electricity. He intended to use his electromagnetic field for defense while striking with the speed of light. He launched himself forward, a bolt of blue radiance aiming a punch packed with electromagnetic force at the King's skull.
But as the blow was inches from landing, the King simply tilted his head, his eyes remaining closed. The punch connected with nothing but air, the resulting shockwave shattering the stone pillars behind the King. The King himself remained unfazed.
"My turn," the King muttered.
A fist slammed into Azreal's gut, the impact echoing like a cannon blast. The King moved with a velocity so far beyond the speed of light that not a single S-Rank—save for Leon—saw him move. He snatched the Captain from the air, slamming him into the remains of the shattered crystals. With a flick of his wrist, he used Telekinesis to bash Azreal against the ceiling and floor repeatedly before tossing his broken, bleeding body back into the crowd like trash.
The King walked back to the center of the cavern, his voice a cold rasp. "Who is next?"
Silence gripped the room. Azreal, the fastest man in the Silver Kingdom, had been dismantled in seconds. If their greatest speedster was too slow to even see the King move, what hope did the rest of them have? The adventurers stood frozen, the stench of fear rising as the King asked again, his voice now tinged with annoyance:
"I said... who is next?"
No one moved. No one dared to breathe. Then, the silence was broken by the rhythmic, steady sound of footsteps.
Leon walked slowly toward the center of the room. His demeanor was impossibly calm, his body showing no signs of the terror that had claimed the others. He stepped over the gasping, broken form of Azreal. The Captain looked up through a haze of blood, watching the "White One" step forward unafraid. In that moment, a bitter realization hit him: if he had only listened, they wouldn't be standing at the edge of extinction.
Leon stopped face to face with the Dragon King. Behind the shadow of his hood, a bright, genuine smile appeared. A worthy challenge had finally presented itself.
"Well then," the Dragon King responded, sensing the shift in the air. "Shall we begin?"