A silhouette drifted down into the center of the great hall, landing with a presence that sent palpitations of dread through every heart. Zoran stood between the two factions, his expression cold and unforgiving.
"This friend here..."
Valen and Rowan spoke almost in unison, their hands cupped in a wary salute, their faces pale with unease. It was now undeniable: the overwhelming aura they had sensed earlier emanated from this very man.
I am absolutely no match for him. I cannot fight him head-on! The same thought flashed through the minds of both Valen and Rowan.
"Cough, cough… might I ask, expert, what business brings you to our Dragon Race?"
The Dragon Elder, serving as the nominal leader of the current era, hobbled down from the high dais, leaning heavily on his staff. As the figurehead, he had no choice but to step forward, though his frail aura suggested he might collapse from exhaustion with every passing breath.
Zoran gave a slight flick of his hand. The Elder, mid-step, froze in place; his body was forced backward by an invisible pressure, sliding all the way back to his seat. He sat there, dazed and bewildered.
Zoran surveyed the gathered warriors of both tribes. The murderous intent still smoldered in their eyes. Had he not intervened, they would have likely slaughtered each other until one side, if not both, was driven to extinction.
Zoran let out a soft sigh, his voice tinged with weary resignation. He had foreseen this outcome long ago. Whether it was the Azure Dragon Tribe or the White Dragon Tribe, or indeed any race across the Seven Parallel Universes, it was always the same.
Strife.
To kill and conquer for one's own benefit was the eternal theme of their existence. How could he change it? He couldn't. It was inscribed into the very genes of every race. You are stronger today; I am stronger tomorrow. Every hundred thousand years, the cycle repeats, and nothing ever changes.
Even if Zoran were to forcibly suppress them now, the spark for their mutual slaughter would never truly go out. The cycle of blood would merely continue, drawing the strong back into the eternal entanglement of cause and effect. The laws of this world were far more entrenched than he had initially imagined. Even if he, an outsider, used his power to force a delicate balance, that balance was doomed to shatter eventually.
Inside the hall, the warriors watched the intruder as he stood in silent contemplation. Confused and already on edge, they had been moments away from drawing their weapons, their internal fury desperate for a vent. They were hostile toward each other, let alone a mysterious stranger.
A warrior began to tentatively approach him.
"What are you doing!" Thales roared, brandishing a kitchen knife at the approaching figure.
"Hmph, what are we doing?" a White Dragon warrior sneered. "You break into our Dragon Hall without a word, and you have the audacity to ask us what we are doing?"
"Exactly! And you dared to lay a hand on our Elder..." another Azure Dragon warrior added. He still gripped his long blade, seemingly forgetting that only moments ago, he had been pointing it at the very same Elder, calling him a "useless old relic."
It was always like this. When a group suffered from internal strife, the only way to temporarily resolve it was to shift that contradiction onto an external enemy. Clearly, Zoran had now become the target for all their collective rage.
A low, melancholic sigh echoed through the hall.
Zoran snapped out of his thoughts. He looked at the crowd, his face expressionless. "In truth, I came here to reconcile your differences."
"Reconcile our differences?" Murmurs rippled through the ranks.
"Who do you think you are? You, by yourself?" Someone pointed a finger at Zoran without a hint of respect.
The grudge between the Azure and White Dragon Tribes ran too deep; it wasn't a problem that could be solved overnight. It was no exaggeration to say that even if Valen were to successfully ascend as leader today, once he grew old, or perhaps much sooner, conflict would erupt again. Everything pointed to the final, inevitable cycle.
"That's right! Even if you are an expert, you aren't one of us! The feud between our two tribes will never cease!"
"Yeah, that's right!"
The warriors, split on either side of the hall, raised their arms in unison, glaring at their counterparts. Zoran had tried to use his aura earlier to cow them into submission, but even with that display of power, the situation was drifting toward the worst possible outcome, as if guided by fate itself.
The hall grew increasingly rowdy. Trapped in the middle, Thales looked terrified. "Uncle, what do we do now?" he asked, his voice trembling as he gripped his kitchen knife. Zoran was his only pillar of support, and he was beginning to panic as more and more warriors surrounded them.
Zoran glanced at Thales, shook his head gently, and scanned the surroundings. A certain resolve seemed to settle over him.
"It is true," he said suddenly, ignoring the blades pointed at him. "Even at my level, I am not omnipotent..." He had finally found his answer within this test site known as the Second Parallel Universe.
"Stop talking to yourself like you're somebody!" Fueled by pure malice, an Azure Dragon warrior lunged forward with his blade.
Thales's kitchen knife proved useless, so he simply buried his face in his hands, bracing for the worst. But the expected pain never came. Instead, he heard a bone-chilling crunch, the sound of limbs being twisted and snapped by raw, unstoppable force.
When he opened his eyes, the warrior who had charged was floating in the air, trembling, his body grotesquely contorted. With a wave of Zoran's hand, the warrior was hurled out of the hall, his fate uncertain.
Zoran's gaze met Thales's. "If you don't want to have nightmares, it's best if you keep your eyes closed," Zoran said calmly.
Thales froze, then nodded violently, covering his head and shutting his eyes tight. Seeing his obedience, Zoran nodded with satisfaction before turning his gaze back to the crowd.
To him, these so-called Dragon warriors were nothing more than ants; they couldn't even withstand half a move.
"I am truly getting old. Why am I even worried about the life or future of these ants?"
Zoran shook his head, brushing off his sleeves with a weary expression.
"Perhaps, at times, I should learn a thing or two from Shendu," he murmured to himself.
"Brothers, he actually dared to kill one of us! We must kill him!" a warrior shouted, and the hall erupted in a chorus of vengeance.
"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"
Zoran raised a hand, shielding Thales behind him. In truth, he had another method, a way to resolve all their disputes. He had promised Master Wyatt he would end the cycle of this world, but he had never specified how. It was just his habit to offer the candy before brandishing the stick.
As a traveler, this wasn't his world, after all.
"I've grown too old, too fond of meddling," he sighed, looking at the dragons possessed by their own fury. He spoke softly, each word landing with icy clarity:
"Now, the children's program is over."
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