Chapter 4 - the draconian
Together, they stood over the still body of the Draconian warrior.
He did not look like a defeated foe—no, he looked like a monument to war itself. Muscles carved like stone, each one thick as coiled rope. Horns that could pierce steel, curved like ancient weapons of a forgotten age. Scales armored his forearms, darker than night, gleaming with the weight of countless battles. This wasn't just a warrior. He was a force. A titan.
And yet—he had fallen.
Defeated by the elf. The one who had only awoken into this world a mere week ago.
Lillith's gaze rose slowly, her crimson eyes trembling. Awe. Fear. Reverence. It was all there, written plainly across her face.
"You are truly... incredible," she whispered, voice shaken. "The only being I could ever kneel to. The only one I could ever accept ruling above me."
He didn't bask in her praise. He didn't gloat or smirk. He simply looked down at the scorched battlefield, at the broken figure of the Draconian.
"I did only what needed to be done," he said, voice low and calm.
Lillith's lips parted, her expression darkening with something deeper. Shame.
"She looked down at her hands, trembling now. "I failed you. I was supposed to prove myself—to show that I could fight at your side. But I wasn't enough."
Her hand drifted to the hilt of her dagger.
"My honor demands it. I can't—"
The words caught in her throat.
She remembered the voice of her former master: "There is no redemption in failure. Only penance."
She pulled the dagger free and raised it toward her chest.
The dagger hovered over her heart—the only place capable of ending an elder vampire's immortal life.
And then—
A thunderclap. Not from the sky, but from his voice.
> "Stop!"
It wasn't a command. It was law. The air trembled. The clouds stilled. Even the ground seemed to yield to that single, thunderous word.
"You will not take your life," he said, stepping toward her. "Your strength may not have matched his—but that is no fault. That is no failure."
His voice softened.
"I still feel there is more you are meant to do... much more."
She gasped. The blade clattered from her hand.
"Master..." she breathed, eyes wide, lips trembling. "Thank you. My life is yours, now and always."
She knelt.
And that's when it happened.
The fallen warrior stirred.
A low grunt. A shift of his arm. A flicker of breath.
He was not dead. Not unconscious.
He had been listening.
Silently. Calculating.
His mind raced.
> This elf... he's stronger than me. Even with all my years, all my conquests. I—Valtor, the strongest of the Draconians—couldn't bring him down. What now? What path is left... if not battle?
The elf's gaze sharpened.
He stepped in front of Lillith, shielding her with his body. If the Draconian tried anything—he would fall before he took another breath.
"Surrender," the elf said coldly, "or die."
It wasn't arrogance. It was certainty.
Valtor laughed—a deep, guttural sound. Blood dripped from his mouth, but his grin only widened.
"Call this a draw," he rasped. "Let's not stain this earth further."
The elf's expression didn't change. His voice remained level.
"A draw?" He looked down at the scorched and battered body lying before him. "You call this a draw?"
Before the Draconian could respond, a flare of murderous intent erupted beside them.
"You filthy beast," Lillith hissed. "How dare you insult him like that? My master defeated you without even using his full strength—your words are blasphemy!"
In a blur, she lunged forward, fangs bared.
But the elf raised his hand—and she stopped instantly.
He didn't say a word. He didn't need to.
His presence alone commanded obedience.
She lowered her head and stepped back.
Valtor let out a sharp laugh.
"She would have killed me," he said.
" I'm in no condition to fight either of you."
"but You... held back," Valtor said, coughing?"
The elf said nothing.
Valtor laughed softly, despite the pain.
"Then I lost long before I fell."
He turned his gaze upward, meeting the elf's eyes.
" You could've ended me—but you didn't."
He struggled to one knee. Blood stained his mouth, but his voice was steady.
"I've never bowed to anyone. I've never followed. But now... I see something I've never seen before."
He bowed his head.
"Let me serve you."
The elf remained quiet, but did not reject him.
Valtor continued. "Not out of defeat. Not out of shame. But because power like yours—it doesn't appear by chance. It exists to lead. And I—want to follow."
He coughed, blood trailing from his lips, but his eyes burned with new fire.
"I felt it when you bound yourself to her. A contract... forged in magic, sealed in blood. And in honor of that strength—of what you are—I offer the same."
He raised one hand slowly, in peace.
"so i ask again let me serve you."
A pause.
"Let us take this world together."
The elf stood still, unmoving. But inside, something shifted.
> The world... he thought. Is that what they see when they look at me?
He did not yet know kingdoms. He did not know politics, empires, gods. But they knew him.
And they came.
One by one.
Drawn like moths to a flame that could never be extinguished.