The city burned.
Smoke and ash choked the once-pristine streets of Aramoor, the capital now a battlefield. Towering spires crumbled under the assault of monstrous invaders—aberrations summoned by dark sorcery—while desperate defenders fought to reclaim every inch of sacred ground. The magical wards that once protected the city flickered weakly, overwhelmed by sheer malice.
Kael stood at the heart of the chaos, Veyrion gleaming in his grip, his body thrumming with a force he could barely control. The Blood of the Dragon King pulsed hotly against his side, resonating with the ancient call of survival and conquest. Around him, Academy students fought with spells and steel, holding the invaders at bay.
Rynn was at his back, as always, her blades dancing through enemies like silver fire. Her presence was a grounding force amid the maelstrom, a reminder of who he was—and who he could become.
"Kael!" she shouted over the roar of battle. "They're breaking through the western gate!"
He turned, eyes narrowing. Through the smoke, he saw a fresh tide of beasts surging forward, overwhelming the defenders. If they breached that point, the inner sanctum—the heart of Aramoor's magical archives—would fall.
Kael clenched his jaw. He could feel the blood singing in his veins, calling him to action. The time for hesitation had passed.
"Stay close!" he barked, then sprinted toward the western gate.
As he ran, something inside him shifted. The air around him crackled with energy, lightning dancing along his arms. His vision sharpened, the world slowing until every enemy movement was clear, every heartbeat loud in his ears.
Time Dilation.
He wove through the battlefield like a living storm, Veyrion flashing in wide arcs. Each strike was precise, driven by perfect instinct—the product of Sword Mastery pushed beyond mortal limits. His foes barely had time to react before falling to his blade.
Reaching the western gate, Kael saw the defenders faltering—young students, battered and bloodied, standing against creatures twice their size. Fear flickered in their eyes.
Kael roared, the sound imbued with draconic resonance. The students rallied at once, spines straightening, eyes blazing with renewed courage.
But it wouldn't be enough.
The beasts—hulking things of muscle and dark magic—charged.
Kael slammed Veyrion into the ground, channeling lightning through the earth. Bolts erupted upward, hurling the lead creatures back in smoking heaps. Yet more came.
The Blood of the Dragon King burned at his side, demanding release.
Now, Stormborn. Unleash what is yours.
Kael closed his eyes for a heartbeat and surrendered.
The transformation was immediate.
Pain and ecstasy flooded him as his body shifted. Scales rippled across his arms, black edged with shimmering gold. His nails lengthened into claws. His eyes became slitted, pupils like molten gold. Power—raw, uncontainable—exploded outward.
A collective gasp rippled through friend and foe alike.
Kael opened his mouth and roared. Lightning burst from him in an unstoppable wave, vaporizing the front lines of the enemy force.
The tide turned.
Emboldened by his presence, the defenders surged forward, driving the invaders back with newfound ferocity. Kael moved through them like a god of war, each motion devastating, each strike unstoppable.
Rynn fought at his side, her face fierce and proud. She didn't flinch from his new form—if anything, she seemed to draw strength from it, their bond unshaken.
Hours passed in a blur of battle.
When the last of the enemy was driven out, when the gates were barred and the dead mourned, Kael stood at the center of the ruined courtyard, breathing heavily.
The transformation slowly receded, leaving him human once more—but changed. The blood was now fully awakened within him, and he could feel its latent power simmering beneath his skin.
Rynn approached, her armor battered but her smile intact.
"Well," she said, voice rough from shouting and smoke. "That was new."
Kael chuckled weakly. "Yeah."
She reached up, cupping his face with a hand smudged with soot and blood.
"I'm proud of you," she whispered.
Before he could answer, a voice rang out across the square.
"Kael Stormborn!"
The crowd parted, revealing a group of cloaked figures—the High Council of Aramoor. Elders, mages, warriors—the most powerful figures in the known world.
The lead figure, an ancient woman with eyes like polished obsidian, stepped forward.
"You carry the Blood of the Dragon King," she said, her voice carrying weight and wonder. "And you have proven yourself worthy."
She drew forth a staff crowned with a brilliant sapphire, pressing its tip to Kael's forehead.
"From this day forth, you are named Champion of the Realm."
The words echoed through the square, met with cheers and the clang of swords against shields.
Kael staggered slightly under the sudden wave of energy that the title conferred—an ancient pact, binding him to the land and its people.
Rynn slipped her hand into his.
"You're not alone," she said again, steady and fierce.
Kael squeezed her hand back, anchoring himself.
Not alone. Never alone.
The battle for Aramoor was won.
But the war for the future had only just begun.
And Kael Stormborn—Champion, Dragon's Heir, and heart-bound to the fiercest warrior he knew—was ready.
Ready to burn a path through destiny itself.