"Disaster... My army actually failed to stop the Dreadwyrm..." Watching the Dreadwyrm crush his forces, Juelian’s entire body began to tremble. His heart was drowning in overwhelming fear.

He knew—if the Dreadwyrm stood before him, he would surely... He dared not finish the thought. That letter from the Dreadwyrm had already revealed the monster’s intent.

*Think. I need a way to survive...*

Wait—! Elder Nie once mentioned an option. Yes! Lanyatie!

Clutching this last trump card, Juelian bolted toward the prison. If he took Elle and her sister as hostages, he might just live.

"Hand me the key to the lowest level—now!!!" he shouted in panic at the guards upon arrival.

"Y-yes, Your Majesty!" The guard hastily passed the key. He’d never seen his emperor like this.

"Get out of my way!" Juelian shoved aside every guard blocking his path. All that mattered was finding Elle and her sister—fast.

"Found you, Lanyatie! Come with me!!!" Sweat-soaked and breathless at the dungeon’s depths, he unlocked the chains binding Elle, then yanked the handcuffed girl out.

"What are you doing to my sister, you bastard?!" Lanya Moer roared, straining against her own chains—but the restraints snapped her back.

"Right, you little brat—I almost forgot you! Guards, bring Lanya Moer out too!"

"Yes, sir!" The guard unlocked her cell, freed her chains, and hauled her up with one hand.

"You’re panicking. Understandable—no one in this world doesn’t fear the Elder Dragon Lord. Send my sister and me back, or your life ends here," Elle said coldly. She knew exactly how the Elder Dragon Lord operated.

"Shut up! One more word and I’ll kill you, bitch!" Juelian snarled. His frayed nerves couldn’t take another second of provocation.

"Fine... I’ll just watch," Elle replied flatly. She understood his terror—and fell silent.

"Follow me to the prison’s high platform," Juelian commanded.

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

...

*What a towering palace. So the Aran Empire’s king truly saw himself as a god. This height nearly matches my original form.*

I soared toward Juelian’s central palace, perched hundreds of meters high—a clear statement of divine arrogance across generations.

This altitude matched my pre-transformation size. Back then, I stood hundreds, even thousands of meters tall. Too cumbersome for most tasks. So I shrank myself with magic into this compact draconic form.

*This is the place. My Elle.*

Landing smoothly atop a circular structure, I folded my crimson wings and fixed a cold gaze on the door ahead.

My magic senses detected four figures rushing closer—Juelian, Elle... and two others.

Clearly, Elle was now his hostage. A threat aimed at me.

Bang!

Juelian and a guard emerged, shoving Elle and the little girl forward. Shock froze their faces—they never expected me here.

"Elder Dragon Lord... I-I’m sorry," Elle murmured, head bowed in guilt. She blamed herself for being captured.

"Lift your head, my follower Elle. You bear no fault. The humans do." My voice, cold and resonant, rolled from my draconic maw—deep, layered, utterly alien.

*It... speaks?!* Juelian and the guard gaped in horror. Monsters didn’t talk. Not in their world.

"Y-Your Highness, Elder Dragon Vorkasa Bosis Abyss... Let’s call a truce? I’ll return Elle and this little thing. You leave our nation. A happy ending for all, yes?" Juelian stammered, his voice weak. The dignity of the Aran Empire’s sovereign had long vanished.