Leon narrowed his eyes slightly, peering at the golden figure not far away.

"Do you know that man?"

Roswitha nodded with a serious expression. "He's on that list Augur gave us—the Starflare Dragon King, Staar. A legendary figure from the previous generation of the Dragon Clan, even older in seniority than Constantine."

"To think he'd dare face us alone,' Leon murmured."

"Which is why we don't need to send our people to their deaths in vain," Roswitha said. "After all, it always comes down to a battle between kings."

Her tone was heavy with solemnity that Leon glanced at her sideways. "I've never seen you this nervous, Roswitha."

Roswitha's steps paused for a moment before she chuckled softly.

"Nervous? Not quite. It's more like...... excitement."

"Excitement?"

"As a newly crowned queen of fifty short years, having the chance to challenge the Starflare Dragon King today—what luck."

"Luck... I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or if you genuinely feel that way."

The Silver Dragon Clan, compared to most Dragon Clans, leans more toward peace. They never actively invaded other tribes' territories.

But that was merely a reflection of their living conditions.

Strip away those external factors, and Silver Dragons were still Dragons at their core, and their innate thirst for combat and violence could not be hidden.

Just like Roswitha now.

The gentle facade of a mother and the aloof demeanor of a queen had vanished. The battle-hungry instincts in her bloodline were slowly awakening.

Facing an opponent as formidable as Staar, she showed no trace of fear. On the contrary, she openly expressed her eagerness.

Leon suddenly recalled a period from over a year ago, right after he had awakened. That had been the time when Roswitha most frequently exacted her "revenge" on him.

Every time her torment reached its peak, her emotions teetered on the edge of losing control.

There were even moments when Leon genuinely believed she was so thrilled... she might actually kill him...

So, traits like gentleness, haughtiness, or stubbornness seemed particularly endearing on Roswitha because they were all aspects of her contrast.

This Silver Dragon Queen definitely fit the label of a "beautiful yet deranged femme fatale" to some extent.

Leon tapped the helmet of the Black Gold Chariot mechanoid next to him, and the crisp clang of metal snapped him out of his thoughts. He decided to stop entertaining such random musings.

He could ponder more about his wife's "hidden traits" after the situation was dealt with.

For now—the golden figure ahead took precedence.

Both sides came to a halt simultaneously, roughly two hundred meters apart, the dividing line of Silver Dragon Clan territory lying in between.

There was no rule decreeing that they had to wait for the enemy to cross the line before retaliating. The Dragon Clan didn't abide by such formalities.

Though not a single soldier stood at his back, the oppressive aura emanating from the Starflare Dragon King was palpable to Leon.

Roswitha was right—this guy was indeed stronger than Constantine.

A lot stronger.

"How much of your magic power has recovered?" Roswitha asked softly, her eyes fixed on the approaching enemy.

It had been nearly half a year since Constantine's defeat, yet Leon's magic power had only recovered to about half its usual capacity.

"'Fifty percent,' Leon admitted frankly, concealing nothing.

"Oh, then it seems teaming up was absolutely the right call," Roswitha remarked.

Leon opened his mouth, wanting to say something like, "Even without you, my dear wife, I could still crush the enemy troops," to boost morale.

But he knew Roswitha disliked when he recklessly played the hero on his own.

So instead, his words came out as, "I've never fought alongside a dragon before."

"Don't worry. We're very synchronized, Leon. We've always been... very synchronized."

Leon nearly choked on her blatant implication, coughing twice to mask his awkwardness. "Focus on the battle, seriously."

The queen chuckled but said no more.

It seemed her tension had eased. Leon breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Several kilometers away, on the observation platform for generals, Nacho watched as the two sides grew more and more confrontational, their battle seemingly imminent. His own nerves tightened alongside the unfolding tension.

"Do you think those two are coming up with a strategy?" Nacho asked.

"Even if they are, we wouldn't be able to hear it," Ravi stated flatly.

"But what if they’ve already devised a way to handle Staar? Shouldn’t you move closer? That way, you could assist Staar more easily."

Ravi ignored his suggestion, merely uttering, "Patience. Wait for the right moment. You said it yourself—I’m the unexpected trump card here. What kind of idiot throws their trump card before the game even starts?"

Nacho bit his lip, anxiously staring at the distant battleground.

Meanwhile, the Silver Dragon Clan were also on high alert.

Despite their unwavering faith in their queen and prince consort, they still prepared for the worst.

After all, war was no trivial game. No one could guarantee victory.

At the dividing line of their territory, Leon clapped his hands together, slowly pulling them apart. In his palms, a long sword began to manifest.

The sword’s blade was entirely encased in blue lightning, with fierce arcs of electricity crackling and flickering along its length.

B-Rank Lightning Magic: Thunderblade Manifestation.

Leon had no intention of using his ultimate move at the very outset.

Firstly, the opponent's power clearly surpassed Constantine's, with an unknown upper limit. While Leon had confidence in his own abilities, there was a stark difference between confidence and arrogance.

Secondly, his magical reserves weren't as abundant as when he fought Constantine. He needed to conserve his energy for critical moments.

As thoughts whirled through Leon’s mind, the Starflare Dragon King edged closer still.

Now the two sides were near enough to hear each other's voices.

"Leon Casmod… you’re the one who killed Constantine, aren’t you?"

A voice emanated from beneath the golden helmet—aged but brimming with authority.

Ordinary beings facing a Dragon King of Staar’s caliber would need immense courage just to stand upright in his presence, let alone exchange words.

This was the essence of "Dragon's Might."

But General Leon had no concept of what Dragon’s Might even meant. Whenever he heard Dragon Kings deliberately lower their voices to sound more imposing, all it ever did was amuse him.

He slung the crackling blade of lightning over his shoulder, his tone flamboyant. "'That's right. Got a problem? Come to avenge him?'"

Privately, Leon was not one to flaunt arrogance.

Yet, with years of military experience, he understood one thing very well: losing momentum at the front lines was simply not an option.

So when faced with Staar's interrogation, Leon made no effort to respond properly. A little swagger was entirely acceptable.

"Heh... Never has a human dared to speak to me like this. You're the first," Staar replied, clearly feeling his dignity had been insulted.

"Killing Constantine has gone to your head? You think you’re unbeatable now?"

"Unbeatable would be overstating it."

Leon slowly raised the Thunder Blade from his shoulder. The sword’s ghostly blue glow traced a faint arc through the air, its tip ultimately aiming directly at Staar.

"But taking you down? That’s entirely doable."

Not just Staar, but even Roswitha—who was currently reveling in her awakened bloodlust—was momentarily stunned by this audacious declaration.

Leon could shrug off the pressure of Dragon’s Might effortlessly. But as a fellow Dragon King, Roswitha could feel that immense weight crushing down on her in full.

And yet, this man stood calmly in its midst, throwing taunts like it was nothing. The queen found herself honestly impressed.

*I have to hand it to you, my consort—you've got guts.*

Staar was seeing red.

He had no intention of wasting any more time on words.

After all, the orders from the Empire's elders had been simple:

They wanted Leon Casmod’s head.

With such clear instructions, things had become very straightforward.

Staar briefly closed his eyes, adjusting his mental state. Then he opened them again, determination gleaming within.

Winds stirred up sand across the battlefield as the sun became cloaked under layers of dense clouds. The shadows crept forth from Staar’s side, gradually swallowing the ground beneath their feet.

Leon infused more magic power into his Thunder Blade, the sword growing brighter and fuller. The lively arcs of electricity danced more fervently than before.

"No intention of waiting for them to make the first move?"

Roswitha’s words were casual, but even as she spoke, she prepared herself for battle. She turned her right hand palm-up, summoning a swirling Dragon Flame into her hand.

"I’ve always preferred taking the initiative."

Leon shifted into a stance, bending low with his blade poised. "Let’s go."

"Alright."

The couple transformed into twin silver blurs, racing toward Staar in perfect unison.

In mere moments, they attacked from his flanks—Leon’s blade slashing downward, Roswitha unleashing her Dragon Flame.

The clash of kings begins.