THE ALMIGHTY WAR DRAGON

The heat core pulsed like a golden heartbeat inside the containment chamber, washing the lab in warm light.

Evans Draker stood before the glowing cylinder, sweat on his forehead, excitement rising as readings stabilized.

"Output holding at ninety seven percent," A technician shouted. "No fluctuations!"

Another scientist spun from her console, grinning. "Evans, it's stable! We actually did it!"

Laughter filled the lab. Weeks of sleepless nights and pressure melted into relief.

The coming winter was said to be Drakarion's harshest; it was said that districts will freeze and the cold that's was coming had the capacity to freeze the citizens and other living matter to death.

But the prototype before them, powered by the Celestro Dragon core from Evans body, emitted enough heat that was required to keep millions alive.

Evans rested his head on the chamber. "We can scale it. If we replicate this design, every home in Drakarion can stay warm even in the incoming harsh winter."

The team swarmed him with praise.

“Evans, you’re a genius.”

“Your father, Lord Adrian Drakar, will be proud.”

“This is why you’re heir—you care about people, not politics.”

Someone clapped him on the back. "Your brother might be older, but no one leads like you."

Evans laughed softly. "Let's get this to the council. If we present it well, we might get enough funding to—”

The lab doors slammed open so hard the glass trembled.

Drakarion soldiers flooded in, shoving researchers aside. Their rifles were raised. Their boots hammered the steel floor.

Evans froze.

At their center stood Grand Lord Adrian Drakar, dressed in a dark royal suit trimmed with gold, his expression was carved in fury so sharp the room went silent.

“F… Father?” Evans stepped forward, his mind still full of the heat core’s success. “You came at the perfect time. We’ve finished the heat core model. This will change everything.”

He took a step closer, pride burning in his chest.

Adrian’s hand cut through the air like lightning.

The slap cracked across Evans’s face so hard he crashed to the floor. Gasps rang out. Dragon energy flared in him, reacting to the shock.

Evans pressed his palm to his cheek, staring up. “Father…?”

Adrian’s voice boomed. “You bastard. I should have known you cared only for yourself.”

The words hit harder than the strike.

Evans pushed himself up. “I don’t understand. What selfish interest? We built this for the city—for everyone—”

“Shut up!” Lord Adrian pointed at him, hand trembling. “You dare pretend you care about Drakarion after what you did?”

Cold dread flooded Evans’s chest. He looked at the soldiers, his team, his father’s burning eyes. “What did I do? Someone explain.”

Lord Adrian stepped closer until his shadow swallowed Evans. “You sabotaged our war efforts against the Aureldrake Dragon Kin,” he said. “Because of you, our forces collapsed. The Aureldrake clan seized our gold mines—our future, our leverage, our survival.”

He leaned in, eyes aflame. “Everything we built… gone. Because of you.”

Evans’s mouth went dry. “That’s impossible. I had nothing to do with war systems. I never touched the command channels.”

Whispers rose around him. His team backed away.

Footsteps sounded from the doorway.

Evans turned.

His older brother, Ronan Drakar, entered at a slow pace.

He wore a blue Oraco-woven suit, threads shimmering faintly with each step.

He carried the look of a grieving son… but his eyes said something else.

Jealous calculation, and cold ambition.

“Everything Father said is true,” Ronan said, shaking his head. “Evans… how could you betray us?”

Something twisted in Evans’s chest. “Ronan… don’t do this. You know I would never betray our clan.”

Ronan raised a tablet. Data logs glowed on the screen—battlefield signatures, intercepted calls, a security clearance stamped with Evans’s ID.

“You rerouted our reinforcements,” Ronan said. “You tampered with the dragon-core barrier. You caused the collapse. You let those raiders charge straight into our gold mines.”

Evans stared at the screen, pulse pounding. “Those are falsified. Ronan, you know they’re falsified.”

Ronan lowered his gaze as if in sorrow. “Brother… the evidence is here. You have to face what you’ve done.”

Evans rose to his feet, trembling with fury and heartbreak. “I didn’t do any of that! Why would I sabotage Drakarion? Why would I make our country lose the mines that fund our entire economy?”

Adrian roared, “Because you wanted more power! Because you wanted to weaken our forces and later rise as the hero.”

“That’s not true, Father!” Evans’s voice cracked.

Ronan stepped closer, placing a hand on Adrian’s shoulder in false comfort. “Father… he’s lying. He’s always been good at it.”

The Celestro Dragon Force inside Evans surged in instinct. His pupils flashed with pale light, letting him see past Ronan’s mask and into the storm beneath.

All he could see within Ronan was Jealousy, bitterness, fear, and triumph.

Evans inhaled sharply. He saw it clearly.

Ronan had done this.

“You’re lying,” Evans whispered.

Ronan flinched, startled that Evans dared say it aloud.

Evans stepped forward, voice shaking with rage. “I read your mind, Ronan. You’re lying, and you know you’re lying.”

Gasps exploded around the lab.

“Mind reading…?”

“That’s a Celestro trait…”

“Only Evans can do that…”

Evans pointed at his brother. “You framed me. You set this entire thing up.”

Ronan’s calm mask wavered for a heartbeat. Then he laughed weakly. “Listen to him, Father. He’s desperate. He’ll say anything.”

Evans turned back to Adrian, voice thick. “Father, please. I’m your son. You know my Celestro dragon force lets me see past lies. Ronan is twisting everything. He wants to dethrone me as your heir.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Enough.”

Evans stepped closer, desperate. “Father… look at me. Look at him. Does this truly make sense to you?”

Ronan spoke softly behind him. “Don’t listen to him, Father. He’s using his abilities to twist emotions. That’s what Celestro users do when cornered.”

Evans spun on him. “I’m not cornered. I’m telling the truth.”

Ronan gave a sympathetic sigh that made Evans’s skin crawl. “It must be hard, Evans. Knowing everything’s collapsing and you can’t talk your way out.”

Evans clenched his fists. “You’ve always hated that I possess Celestro dragon force while you only have Oraco. You’ve always feared I would surpass you.” He paused. “You hated that I was named heir to Drakarion’s throne instead of you, though I’m the younger son.”

Ronan’s smile was thin and wicked. He glanced away just long enough to hide it, but Evans saw everything.

Evans turned back toward Lord Adrian, voice breaking. “Father… can’t you see this? He’s lying.”

The lab went silent.

All eyes turned to a lord Adrian.

The ground lord's chest rose and fell once. His gaze lead from Evans... To Ronan.

His eyes narrowed, and the moment froze.

Adrian stared at Ronan, caught between belief and doubt — and Evans had no idea which way his father would break.

He held his breath, watching his father study Ronan’s face. For a moment he thought there might be hope. Adrian’s stare wavered, tight with confusion and something Evans had not seen in years — doubt.

Evans stepped forward, wrists trembling. “Father… please. Just listen for a second,” he said, voice thin with desperation.

The room was so quiet he could hear the hum of the heat core. Technicians shifted nervously, waiting to see which way the Grand Lord would turn.

Lord Adrian inhaled, jaw flexing. “Evans Drakar.”

“Yes, Father,” Evans whispered.

The Grand Lord lifted one hand. “Handcuff him.”

The order hit Evans like a spear. Soldiers surged forward, grabbing his arms. Cold metal locked around his wrists. A shock ran through the cuffs as runes lit, forcing his Celestro dragon force into silence.

Evans stared at his father. “You’re… you’re doing this?”