The air tasted like smoke, carried by the marching army of dragons moving beneath the night sky. Fire dragons lit the way through the darkness, their flames burning in long golden streams that carved a glowing path for the others to follow as the army of one hundred thousand finally reached the borders of the Wind Dragon Empire.

"Can you feel it? It smells like victory."

Max walked at the very front, his body transformed into his dragon hybrid form and covered in void armor. Dark scales gleamed beneath the flickering firelight, while black-violet mist curled around his body like a living cloak.

Behind him, the armies followed in a wide hexagonal formation, each section moving with terrifying order as wings, claws, spears, and banners filled the land and sky behind their king.

He had left his dear wife Rosalia at the new capital city to await his return and begin commanding the people to build around the chosen area.

Nobody quite understood why he had ordered them not to begin constructing the palace yet. Even Rosalia did not know that Clotilde would soon be pregnant with his child, passing the abilities of her Crystal Bloodline to him. Max did not want to burden Rosalia with that knowledge right now, not while she was still recovering and carrying his first child.

"My liege, the scouts have found that the elves are also pushing toward the capital city of the Wind Empire. At this rate, we might have to clash with two forces at once."

Eberhard stood behind Max, overlooking the familiar lands he had once called home, the same lands he had been driven away from by none other than his current ruler.

And yet, he did not hate Max. Perhaps he should have, but the rich mana Max released into the world strengthened them every single day, sinking into their blood, bones, scales, and even the air they breathed.

Oswald had ruled with pride and wind, but Max carried something far greater, something that made even old dragons like Eberhard feel they were standing at the beginning of a new age.

"The elven ruler is very brave to have designs on the lands I have already set my eyes on. Fine." Max chuckled, his gaze fixed on the dark stretch of land ahead where the wind territory waited beneath the night. "I want to see who this person is, and if he matches the arrogance of his actions."

His heart beat wildly beneath his void armor. Something inside him was changing, and every battle pulled it deeper out of him. Every powerful opponent made his blood heat, every clash made his fingers twitch for more, and every victory only gave him a short taste before the craving returned again.

He knew he was changing, but he did not care. No matter how many cities he trampled beneath Voidstar’s banner, how many empires he swallowed, or how many children would one day carry his blood, it would never be enough. A man’s heart always craved more, and Max had decided to accept that law instead of pretending to be ashamed of it.

"My liege, if possible, I would advise against making enemies with another empire so soon," Eberhard said carefully from behind him. His voice carried the caution of an old man who had survived too many rulers to speak without measuring his words first.

"Even if you are powerful, we might not be able to fight the entire world all at once. After all, only the ice and fire dragons have reached such power so far... while the rest of us, well..."

Max smiled when he heard that small hint in Eberhard’s voice.

The old wind dragon had wrapped his desire inside advice, but Max heard it clearly. He was not only worried about the elves, Oswald, or the armies waiting ahead. He was reminding Max that the wind dragons were still standing behind him with ordinary blood, watching the ice and fire clans rise beyond them while their own pride slowly turned sour.

"I’ll tell you what," Max said, his voice not too loud, but clear enough to reach the nearby ranks. "If we kill Oswald, I’ll make sure the wind dragons evolve soon as well. That is my only requirement."

A wave of gasps rolled through the wind side of the army. Wings shifted, claws tightened around weapons, and men who had marched with uncertainty now stared at Max as if the border ahead had stopped being enemy land and become the doorway to their own rebirth.

They had seen the ice dragons change and the fire dragons rise, and now Max was offering that same impossible future to them for the head of Oswald.

"The same goes for the thunder side as well," Max added, almost lazily, but the timing was deliberate.

The thunder dragons stiffened as if lightning had passed through their spines. Some exchanged quick looks, others lowered their heads as if afraid their greed would show too clearly, but it was already too late.

They wanted it.

Every single one of them wanted it. Higher bloodline purity, stronger bodies, denser mana, and the chance to become something closer to the ancestors they had been worshiping for generations. Even if they had to turn their fangs toward their old emperor, it was a bargain even the devil would not refuse.

"We’re here..."

Soon, the armies finally reached the Wind Capital, but the sight waiting for them was so horrible that even Max wondered for a moment if his eyes were seeing it correctly.

The land in the distance was filled with corpses scattered across the outer roads, broken rooftops, and ruined courtyards, as if the city itself had been turned into a slaughterhouse. Shouts echoed from afar, sharp and desperate, carrying through the night as if people were still being cut down somewhere beyond the smoke.

Wind magic kept crashing against something crimson near the heart of the capital, but the green winds did not last. Every time they gathered, crimson waves tore through them with brutal force, ripping them apart like paper beneath a blade.

Max narrowed his eyes.

Then he saw him.

Oswald was slaughtering his own people.

"He’s lost it... let’s move!"

Max’s heart dropped in a way he had not expected. He had prepared himself for Oswald’s refusal. He had prepared himself for battle, pride, and some grand display of imperial arrogance. He had even expected Oswald to use the people as shields or try to twist the situation in his favor, but this was different.

He did not understand why this was happening at all. Why would Oswald kill his own clan? Why would a ruler destroy the very people he claimed to protect?

The others understood it as well, and their faces turned pale as they spread their wings and rushed toward the capital city.

The wind dragons were the worst. Some of them stared ahead in disbelief, their eyes shaking as they saw their homeland torn open before them. The capital that should have stood proud beneath the night had been flattened almost to the brim, its towers broken, its walls split, its streets drowned beneath smoke, dust, and blood.

"Oswald!"

Max roared, but the slaughter did not stop.

He increased his speed, his teeth clenched as void magic surged around his arm and mixed with the void winds twisting at his side. The two forces wrapped together, sharpening into a long spear that trembled with destructive pressure. Without wasting another breath, Max threw it with all his strength at the crimson figure standing among the ruins.

Oswald’s eyes were crimson. Not simply angry, not simply bloodshot, but crimson in a way that made him look as if rage itself had hollowed him out and crawled inside his body. He was lost in a trance, slaughtering anything that moved, and the moment Max saw him clearly, he understood there was no saving him anymore.

Whatever had happened to Oswald, the emperor standing there was already gone.

Max prepared himself to kill him.

But when his spear crashed against Oswald’s body and exploded with terrifying destructive winds, Max’s eyes widened.

Purple ice flames poured out from Oswald’s mouth and swallowed the impact.

They ate into the void winds, spreading through the black storm like frost crawling across glass, freezing the destructive force solid before it could tear him apart. The air cracked from the sudden cold. The black winds trembled, hardened, and shattered into frozen fragments around him.

Then Oswald turned.

His crimson eyes fell on Max, and in the middle of that red madness, a tinge of purple light slowly lit up like new pupils waking inside his gaze.

"How the hell is this possible?"

Max froze for a second.

Only he was supposed to be able to steal another person’s bloodline magic. That was his power, his system, his path. No one else should have been able to take Ice’s ability and twist it into their own body like this. Yet Oswald stood there, breathing purple ice flames from his mouth as if the impossible had become real right in front of him.

Max rushed at him with a void blade, preparing to kill him immediately before anything else could go wrong, but then a familiar voice stopped him mid-flight.

His entire frame shook.

His eyes slowly narrowed on the person standing behind Oswald.

"Hello, Max... It’s been a while, hasn’t it?"