Lord Adrian looked away, his jaw was tight. “A trial will commence immediately. There is too much blood tied to this incident. You will defend yourself before the Drakarion Kin Council.”Ronan stepped aside, lowering his gaze with practiced sorrow. “It’s for the good of the clan, Evans.”Evans wanted to rip that false concern off his brother’s face.The soldiers dragged him toward the elevator. His research team pressed back in fear. One whispered, “I… I didn’t think he’d go this far.”Evans turned his head, voice low. “I didn’t do anything.”The elevator doors opened with a metallic groan. They shoved him inside, and the lift began its slow climb toward the council floors. Fluorescent lights flickered over the metal walls as Evans stared at the floor, his breath tight.“He didn’t even let me explain,” he muttered.One soldier shifted uneasily. “My lord… just wait for the trial.”Evans lifted his head. “You really think they’ll listen? You think anyone up there want the truth?”The gu

Fear crept across the burning garage as the last sparks from the extractor machine faded into smoke. The mercenaries stood frozen, unable to process what they were seeing. Evans rose slowly from the slab, golden light swirling around his body like a living storm. The scales on his cheek glimmered beneath the firelight, casting reflections across the rusted walls.One of the mercenaries backed away, nearly tripping over a toolbox. “How… how is he still standing?”Another’s voice cracked. “We drained him. I watched him turn pale after all the dragon force left his chest.”Evans’s voice was steady and cold. “I told you all. You wasted your time trying to extract the Celestro Dragon Force from me.”The men shuddered, glancing at each other, trying to decide whether to run or fight. The leader pushed forward before anyone panicked. His face was pale, but he forced a sneer.“Don’t be fooled,” he said loudly, pointing toward the glowing crystal inside the extraction machine. “His Celestro f

Evans had never imagined that the first morning after awakening the Primordius Dragon Force would begin in a quiet hotel bathroom, staring into a cracked mirror, struggling with a mustache.The disguise felt ridiculous. The thick brown thing sat awkwardly over his upper lip, too large for his face, too heavy for someone who once carried a noble Drakarion crest as heir to the Drakarion throne. He pressed the edges firmly, testing the adhesive, then leaned back to examine himself. The wig—short, dark, nothing like his usual sharp royal cut—completed the stranger looking back at him.He exhaled slowly. “So this is my life now,” he murmured. “An exile dressing up like a fugitive.”His reflection did not answer, but the faint scales along his jaw glimmered beneath the artificial hotel lights, reminding him he was no longer the man he used to be. He tugged on the collar of the rough street clothes Patrick Johnson had bought him. The fabric felt cheap, unfamiliar, almost insulting compar

The laughter in the bar hit Evans like a wave. Boris and Silas were still chuckling, shoulders shaking, while Maelik watched with a thin, superior smile. A few nearby drinkers tried to hide their amusement, but most didn’t bother. To them, this was simple: a weak stranger in cheap clothes being mocked by three powerful men.Patrick shifted uneasily beside Evans. His fingers tightened on the table. Evans could feel the man’s tension like a string pulled too tight.“Look at him,” Boris said, giving Evans a lazy once-over. “Healthy body, no power. What a waste.”Silas snorted. “He should be grateful we’re even talking to him.”The words stung, not because they insulted Evans’s strength, but because they treated him like he didn’t exist, like he was furniture between Patrick and danger.Evans spoke, his voice was calm but edged with steel. “You two think you’re something special just because you wield a common Oraco force and a Branth which is one rank higher? In my opinion, you two are

Silas gagged and tried to pry the fingers off, but he couldn’t. His Branth runes flickered like a dying circuit, confused by the pressure crushing his aura.“You keep fighting because you think stopping means you lose,” Evans said. “But you already lost the moment you touched me.”He slammed Silas down.The floor cracked, and dust jumped up. Silas coughed, tried to rise, and Evans kicked his ribs with controlled force. Not enough to kill him, but enough to teach him what helplessness felt like.Silas wheezed, his eyes turned wet with rage. “You… you bastard…”Evans bent slightly. “Careful. You’ve been calling the wrong man that word all night.”Maelik’s chest was rising fast now. He had seen fights. He had seen rare powers. But this wasn’t a fight. This was someone deciding whether others deserved to keep breathing.Maelik forced his voice to stay steady. “Enough,” he said. “Stop this now.”Evans didn’t even look at him. “You’re still talking?”Maelik’s pride snapped, and fear pushed