Chapter 1237: Sunscale Point

Upon Leon’s return to Storm Herald, wrath, cold and dark, had settled into his stomach. He made no grand declarations nor promises. Instead, he led his family to their quarters on the ark, leaving Anzu and Archelaus to give the necessary briefings to his people.

When the door closed behind him and his ladies, separating them from all prying eyes, Cassandra raked her fingers across her face and shouted, “THAT FUCKING BASTARD! MAY HE BE LOST IN THE ASHEN FIELDS! WITHOUT EVEN HIS COCK TO KEEP HIM HAPPY!”

“Cassie…” Elise whispered as she laid a shaking hand on Cassandra’s shoulder in a vain attempt at comfort. Her aura felt like it had been shaken and stirred, and she’d clung to Leon’s arm the entire way back to the ark.

Cassandra glared at her, though Elise wasn’t the focus of her ire. No response came immediately, but from the way Cassandra’s aura billowed, Leon understood her thought process clearly enough. Valeria and Maia, though calmer, were in a similar state, the temperature of their quarters decreasing noticeably as their desire to end the lives of the two who had just challenged them spiked through their auras.

“He dared…” Maia murmured. Though only two words, they were icy and sharp.

“Leon…” Valeria added, drawing the other three’s attention towards him. “What are you going to do?”

Since entering their quarters, Leon’s hands had been shaking. Power boiled beneath his skin, and as lightning magic surged through his veins, he could see individual strands of hair on his wives’ heads starting to stand up. He held his breath for a few seconds and forced his racing heart to calm, the manic war drum it filled his head with not yet needed.

“Simple,” he growled. “I’m going to kill him.”

Silence answered him. Could he—should he—kill a thirteenth-tier Basileus? Whether or not the question was voiced didn’t matter. They all knew the score and the potential ramifications. Morui would lose his hands before he laid them upon any of his wives.

And Triyr would suffer his fair share, too, of course, for demanding what belonged to Leon.

“They deserve nothing less,” Maia declared. “We are yours. You are ours. We are mates. No one else touches any of us. No one.” She strode forward, punctuating her declaration by laying a hand on Leon’s cheek and staring into his eyes. No more words needed to be said, not when they could sense what each other was feeling.

“I want a finger,” Cassandra said as she joined them, taking one of Leon’s hands into her own. “If not, then cut off their cocks and stuff them into their asses! Let them struggle through the Ashen Fields with those permanently poking them from within!”

“Such focus on cocks,” Valeria whispered as she took Leon’s other hand. “One might think you’re a tad obsessed…”

“To look upon those as fair as we are with lust deserves a suitable punishment!”

“You would have to punish everyone, then,” Leon said, his voice shaking slightly as his emotions warred with his attempt to make light of the situation. “All who look upon you desire you.”

“That won’t stop me,” she quipped, the atmosphere lightening slightly just before Elise brought it back down.

“Is there… is running not an option?”

Silence hit the chamber like a boulder hit the thinnest of glass. Leon himself stared at her wondering if he’d heard her correctly. With a deep wince at the fact that he was even voicing it aloud, he asked, “You… want us to run away from this challenge?”

“No!” Elise immediately responded, though she couldn’t quite meet Leon’s gaze. “I’m just…” She sighed and closed her eyes, taking a moment to compose herself. When she opened them again, she stared right back at Leon, her emerald eyes glittering with conviction. “I just want to know what our options are.”

“Running is not an option,” Leon immediately said.

“He’s a thirteenth-tier mage,” Elise pointed out. “And a Basileus besides. Fighting him at all will be politically dangerous, let alone the danger of losing.”

“Wait, Eli, what are you saying?” Cassandra asked, confusion carving its way across her face. “Are you suggesting we shouldn’t fight for our honor?”

“No!” Elise repeated, her tone clipped and challenging, her eyes fixing Cassandra in a deathly serious glare. The other woman frowned and backed down after several long seconds. After a few more silent seconds, Elise clarified herself. “I’m just talking. Reasoning out our scenario. Listen to me! I just want to make sure that we all know what the stakes are!”

“And what are they?” Valeria coldly asked, though not as coldly, perhaps, as she might’ve asked before Elise’s clarification.

“Their demands, for one,” Elise said. “For two, our dignity and honor are at stake. Both are forfeit if Leon loses the duel.”

“Both are lost if we run, too,” Valeria pointed out.

“Then we won’t run,” Elise conceded exasperatedly. “We have to meet with Miuna, anyway. We can’t do that if we retreat to Artorion.”

“He’s a thirteenth-tier Basileus,” Leon finally said in a tone that brokered no discussion. “He will find that means nothing when I bury Iron Pride in his throat.”

“A full tier above you?” Elise whispered, fear once more creeping into her tone. “How can you be so confident?”

“I have all of you cheering me on,” he said with perhaps the most unconvincing smile of confidence he’d ever worn. “But… I will spend the night training. Trust me. I will win.”

For a moment, it looked like she might start arguing, to stay engaged in what was going on. But after a few breathless seconds, Elise deflated slightly, and Maia immediately went to lend her some support.

“I’ll win,” Leon reiterated as Cassandra and Valeria sat down with Maia and Elise. He didn’t want to leave the room. His heart lay with these four women, and especially after that disaster of a gala, leaving now would be akin to tearing his heart out through his ribs. Instead, as they began quietly whispering between themselves, he sat down in a nearby armchair and focused inward. He cast his consciousness down deep, past his muscles and bones and blood, past the hate and rage that the evening had inspired within him, and into the very core of his being,

Upon his throne in his Mind Palace, he opened his eyes and immediately found a surprise waiting for him. The Thunderbird stood there in her human form, though it wasn’t her that was particularly surprising; rather, it was the human form of the Great Black Dragon standing with her that took him aback.

He didn’t even get a single word out before his saurian Ancestor said with the lightest of grins, “I felt your heat in the Chaos. I saw your flame through the Mist. What fool inspires the dragon’s wrath?”

“What happened, Leon?!” the Thunderbird more succinctly demanded as he stood from the throne and joined them at the base of the platform it lay upon.

Quietly, he began to speak. The gala, Morui, Triyr, Damini, all of the details he could dredge up, he spoke of it all. When he was finished, the wrath he felt was reflected in the Thunderbird’s livid features.

“Your wives are correct Leon,” she whispered in deathly tones. “Both of those men need to die.”

“Those who challenge a dragon… die,” the Great Black Dragon added. He stepped forward and took Leon’s face in his hands. For just a moment, his red-orange eyes peered into Leon’s golden eyes, peeling away the layers and leaving him bare before him.

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Then Leon jerked away, not enjoying that intimate contact at all. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes demanded answers.

“There is more to being a dragon than fire,” the Great Black Dragon slowly intoned as his expression turned pensive. Leon and the Thunderbird remained silent as he spoke, and Leon even noticed Xaphan paying quite a bit of attention despite his attempts to stay subtle. “Since the beginning of time, we have existed. One of the pillars of the universe; one of its first scions. Humanity only came later. Though most of our Clans now take human shape, we are still dragons within. That will never change.”

The Great Black Dragon leaned in, his tone lowering to an animalistic growl.

“Your inner dragon sleeps. It has stirred in the past but never awoken. Wake it now, and you will be unstoppable. These apes you now face, or whoever else… All are equal in the dragon’s gaze.”

The Thunderbird finally made a noise: a snort of incredulity. “Needlessly dramatic. Leon, my boy, strike these motherless bastards until they are ash upon the wind. And then strike the ash. And then strike their friends, family, and anyone else who dares to stand against you! No son of the Thunderbird Clan will bow before these pretenders! You are already claiming my mantle! Show all of these humans why you are who they ought to follow! Show them your strength!”

A rumble of amusement passed the Great Black Dragon’s lips. “The pride of a Reacher. Not so different from the pride of a divine being. But a King must wield the most Kingly of powers! The highest of all crowns lies before you, child! Become one with the dragon within, awaken yourself to your potential, and I will make you the inheritor of my will, the next Patriarch of my Clan!”

“Get your scaly ass away from my boy!” the Thunderbird growled through clenched teeth.

“The blood of the dragon belongs to the dragons. To deny otherwise is futile.”

Sensing their auras tighten and sharpen, Leon finally interjected. “I will fight in the view of the Storm Lords. I have been challenged by a Storm Lord! I will fight as a Storm Lord! No, not just a Storm Lord, but a son of House Raime, the last remaining branch of the Thunderbird Clan!”

Such pride shone from the Thunderbird that Leon was almost blinded. The Great Black Dragon, on the other hand, hardly looked amused, but he didn’t immediately storm off in a huff.

Before anyone could respond, Leon pressed on. “There will be other fights after this. Fights that will undoubtedly benefit from an ‘inner dragon’. Assuming that means anything and isn’t just metaphorical.”

The Great Black Dragon scoffed. “The comforts humans surround themselves with remove them from the ways of old. Tongues and clasped wrists solve fewer problems than blood and claws. You must reorient your thoughts and realize your power. Violence, raw and unerring, will deliver you victory! Calamity lies at your fingertips; you have but to take it! To deny such power is nothing less than weakness!”

“I deny no power within me,” Leon quietly said. “I will use what I must to achieve my goals.”

“You will fail without my power.”

“Your faith inspires me, Ancestor. Explain and I might change my mind.”

The Great Black Dragon stared at him for a long moment, regarding him about as highly as he might an ant. Then, he simply said, “No,” and shot into the sky, leaving Leon’s soul realm behind.

The Thunderbird immediately began laughing. “Fool!” she gasped between breaths. “Brainless fool!”

Leon sighed. “A surprising amount of pride for a dead beast. But he is a dragon, so…”

“Forget him for now, dear boy,” the Thunderbird said, looking none too pleased with the situation. “Come with me. We will get you ready to eviscerate, dismember, deprave, burn, maim, chop, mutilate, and mangle this Basileus! Such a foe! We…” She slowed, a serious look passing over her as she critically looked Leon up and down. “We should be taking this more seriously. A thirteenth-tier mage will… be a difficult opponent for you to face. You said you will be lacking your armor?”

“Yes,” Leon answered.

“Then you must be prepared for strikes against your soul realm.”

“Your power protects me, doesn’t it?”

“My power specializes in protecting the mind from darkness magic. Every element can strike an opponent’s soul realm, not just darkness. Harden yourself here…”

For the rest of the night, Leon and the Thunderbird hurriedly ran about his soul realm, fortifying the defenses he’d long ago laid and running through various scenarios that he might face against his foe—which were numerous.

Nothing could truly prepare Leon to face a mage of Triyr’s power, but as much as he could prepare in less than a day, he did.

—

Sunscale Point was a rather unique place on Voidshore. Space was at a premium on the demiplane, with almost the entire circumference given over to docks and other facilities to service arks passing through. But Sunscale Point was the one place on the edge of Voidshore that was neither a built-up residence nor some kind of ark-servicing facility. Instead, it was a large amphitheater, built into the rise of the plane as it moved inward, facing out into the depths of the Void. There, on the edge of the demiplane, the shining city drowned out fewer stars, leaving the vast star-filled expanse spreading out before all who sat in the stone seats.

And it was truly the edge of the plane, with the ground simply ending in a sheer cliff that dropped into the Void. The demiplane’s terminus line, the point where the atmosphere ended, roughly began a mere ten feet from the edge of the stage.

The stage itself lay at the bottom of the half-moon-shaped theater and was one of the most heavily enchanted places in the city. The actors, combatants, or anyone else on the stage was afforded a half-circle with a radius of about three or four hundred feet—a long distance for a mortal, but for someone like Leon or Triyr, it was a distance that could be easily crossed in a single step.

The seating was extensive enough for tens of thousands of spectators, though as Leon and his party entered through a set of grand bronze doors and found themselves at the foot of the seats, more than five thousand people had already filled most of the first section.

This didn’t come as much of a surprise, though, as those who’d come out to watch the duel were the strongest mages on the demiplane. Nexus Lords on their way to Belicenion, more than a hundred representing each magical element, were the most notable of the spectators. Along with them were their entourages, though they were mostly small and relegated to a handful of their closest followers.

Leon himself showed up with a strong entourage. His friends, family, and closest advisors trooped in behind him, while Archelaus walked just beside him. Of all of his most important advisors and warriors, only Anshu and Red stayed behind to watch over Storm Herald and the rest of their small fleet.

When Leon walked in, he found Triyr already present, standing in the center of the stage quietly conversing with Morui and another mage—a woman of ethereal beauty that Leon recognized as the one who’d prevented Morui and Refferti from coming to blows on the previous day. His entrance drew much attention, the eyes and auras of thousands of powerful mages—some of them thirteenth-tier, a few he sensed might’ve been even stronger—fell upon him, hitting him like a falling mountain.

He weathered that weight with as much grace and dignity as he could muster, suffering only the slightest faltered step before he righted himself. Some of those behind him tripped, however, eliciting an infuriating grin from Triyr.

As much as Leon already hated the man, however, it was the leering, hungry look from Morui directed towards his ladies that had his wrath already burning just a few steps past the enchanted barricade designed to keep the spectators safe.

“It seems everyone’s already heard of this duel,” Archelaus stated as he glanced around the theater, ignoring most but nodding to a few, including those Storm Lords that Leon had already met like Illum and Nuertis.

“They should’ve!” Gwarim boomed as he leaped from his spot in the front row and landed next to them. “I saved your family some seats, Leon,” he said as he gestured at a few empty seats close to his party, with Realiz and Jagan waving them over. “I would’ve saved more if I’d known you were coming with so many people.”

“No need for an apology,” Leon responded with a smile. “This is already more than I could’ve asked for.”

“Nonsense!” His demeanor calmed as he leaned down to whisper in Leon’s ear, a quick rune inscribed into the air keeping everyone else from listening in, “Are you ready, my new friend? A fight against a Basileus… I have faith in the blood of the Thunderbird, but…”

“I am confident in my chances of victory,” Leon easily replied.

Gwarim frowned a moment, but after that moment, his boisterous grin returned. “Very good! Very good! Then let’s get to it!” With a gesture, his rune was erased. “Archelaus, my friend, it’s good to see you here!”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Archelaus said with a smile sent Leon’s way. “I’m looking forward to seeing the power that turned Despot Terris back when Leon was yet only a Strategos…”

His words, it seemed to Leon, were meant far more for the listening crowd than for anyone else, since Archelaus donned a sly smile as whispers abounded in the wake of his claim.

Ignoring them, Leon asked Gwarim, “What now?”

“Now, we meet with the other two. Anassa Britta herself is here to facilitate the duel, as you can see. The final terms are confirmed, and then you and Basileus Triyr will fight, the prize being the agreed-upon terms. Any additional rules will be imposed by Anassa Britta.”

“That works for me,” Leon said. A few more words saw his friends and family filing into the seats or flying above them, none of them wanting to stray too far from their King or Queens. Words of encouragement were said at the same time, while Elise, Valeria, Cassandra, and Maia all planted kisses on Leon’s cheeks for good luck. With their love, Leon felt strong enough to take on Khosrow himself.

But then, when his attention returned to his opponent, reality came with it. Triyr’s aura dwarfed his. Triyr was a Basileus, a thirteenth-tier mage, and Leon was only a Despot, a twelfth-tier mage. Leon had his tricks and his powers, but Triyr would too, undoubtedly.

For a moment, he was reminded of his duel with Iron-Striker when the man was still the Thunderer in the Lions’ arena. He’d won that fight by being faster than Iron-Striker and got by on a technicality. This was… he would not win by similar technicalities. He’d have to win outright or take his people and run. He would not let his wives or his arks fall into the hands of either Triyr or Morui.

“All right,” he whispered to Gwarim. “Let’s do this…”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep