Adyr grinned, confident and threatening. "You're afraid of my family."

He was right. Sevrak had done all of this for power, and he finally had enough to leave the Outer Region and start anew in the Midlands.

With a new life ahead and fresh chances to grow, he wasn't foolish enough to risk it by provoking an ancient family through the murder of one of their youths.

Well, Marielle and Niva would be furious if I died, Adyr thought, amused by the notion, since they were the only family he truly had.

"But I still can't leave without taking something with me. You understand, right?" Sevrak's face curved into a smile that tightened in their chests like a threat as his words landed.

"What do you want?" Zephan asked, steeling himself for a fight he knew he could not win.

For the first time since the conversation had begun, Sevrak looked away from Adyr and answered someone else. "I want to test my power. I want to remember what superiority feels like. And I want you to remember what despair feels like."

The air shifted suddenly. Heat still wavered over the scorched land, but a new pressure descended on all of them, heavy and intimate, as if the sky itself leaned in.

The Blood Dragon, already healed, gave a low roar, its massive body starting to melt into liquid crimson, drawing inward and condensing into a tighter mass; the blood then surged toward Sevrak and started to wrap him like living armor.

It hardened across his skin, forming a horned helmet over his head, a chest plate of blood-red scales that radiated malice and strength, and gauntlets that shaped into hooked claws around his hands.

The same scaled plates flowed over his legs and feet, seating themselves on his body like a new, brutal skin.

More blood spilled from his back and formed a pair of vast red wings. Each beat seemed to draw authority from the air itself, holding him aloft with ease.

Now, a blood-red, humanoid dragon stood before them, dread pressed into every watcher. It was not only the sight, a figure shaped like the pinnacle of strength, but the feeling that radiated from him. It did not rise; it vanished, swallowed into a single body.

"He fused with his Spark," Throgar murmured grimly, recognizing the massed power even if he could not sense it with his perception.

After the fusion, Sevrak spoke. His voice rolled like an ancient dragon's, vibrating bone and spirit alike. "I want you to witness my power with your bodies. If you live, consider it your fortune. If you die, consider it my pleasure."

The three titled Practitioners felt the unfair tilt of his demand, and Liora's voice carried anger as she spoke. "Why not just say you plan to kill us and stop playing word games?"

Even the Blood Dragon's red lightning beam had been lethal enough to kill on contact. Facing a full strike from this newly forged being was madness. The outcome was already decided.

"Why?" Sevrak said. "I'm offering you a fair bargain. Your lives in exchange for the safety of your people and your lands."

On the surface, the terms sounded reasonable.

They had already accepted they might die. Throgar and Zephan saw no reason to refuse if it bought their race a measure of peace. "I only hope you keep your word afterward," Throgar said.

Even Liora, angry at the injustice, accepted what lay ahead. "I…"

But before she spoke, Adyr beat his wings and moved forward, cutting through their resolve. "I accept your condition. In return, you let the others go."

"What are you saying?" Liora snapped at once. She was not the kind to let someone die in her place, least of all Adyr.

But before Liora and the others, Sevrak himself had already decided to refuse. "No. You are not part of this deal."

He had never been eager to kill Adyr. What he wanted was to crush the other three and leave. That would be enough to reclaim the pride and sense of superiority he had lost.

But Adyr had words to change his mind. "Why not? You won't be able to kill me anyway."

The line struck like an insult. "Boy, are you truly that naive?"

Pressure bled from Sevrak's draconoid form, spreading outward. For an instant, whether illusion or something else, everyone's vision ran red. Even Adyr felt a faint buzz in his skull, the world tinting like glass washed in blood.

He still held steady and did not yield. "You're the naive one if you think your little power-up is enough to kill someone like me."

Now Sevrak's anger surfaced. That 'little power-up' he was talking about had cost him hundreds of years of effort, and hearing it belittled was enough to tighten every nerve in his body.

And Adyr kept pushing, delivering the line that finally broke him. "The weak think they've become gods the moment someone kneels."

He was not only provoking Sevrak. He really meant it.

It grated on him to watch Sevrak force others to bow, playing the mighty god in front of them.

The irritation boiled low in his blood. He was not even sure if it was arrogance or the kind of edge an 18-year-old body would carry, but it was real, and he refused to give Sevrak what he wanted.

"Then don't blame me if I kill you by accident," Sevrak said at last, accepting. He wanted to crush someone like Adyr, born into wealth and power, unlike himself, who had clawed his way up through sacrifice.

He wanted to watch Adyr's smug calm turn to despair the moment he felt true power. The thought excited him more than killing the other 3 titled Practitioners ever could.

"Adyr, you are not thinking thoroughly." Liora wanted to change his mind, telling him what he was doing was reckless, but the look and the words she received were enough to silence her.

"Don't worry. I'm not so soft that I break easily."

He wasn't entirely wrong; he had broken once already, and it had only made him stronger.

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