THE ALMIGHTY WAR DRAGON

TRIAL OF THE FALLEN DRAGON

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 guard swallowed and looked away.

The next floor opened with a hiss.

Dozens of citizens crowded the corridor, faces twisted with rage. The moment they saw Evans in chains, the shouting hit him like a wall.

“Traitor!”

“You murderer!”

“You cost us the gold reserves!”

Evans stepped forward, trying to be heard. “The evidence is fake! Listen to me—”

A woman hurled a paper cup at him, eyes red with grief. “You weakened our dragon defenses! My son died in that ambush!”

Evans felt something break inside. “Please, just—listen!”

“No explanation for a crime like yours!”

someone yelled. “You let the Aureldrake kin steal our gold mines!”

The doors slammed shut on the chaos, but the echoes stuck in his bones.

By the time the elevator reached the council level, his heartbeat felt like it was cracking his ribs.

Two soldiers shoved him out.

The council chamber stretched before him—vast, dim, carved from obsidian stone.

Dragon crests glowed faintly along the walls. A dome ceiling was etched with metallic dragon wings reflected shifting gold light over the thrones.

Evans was dragged to the center platform, chains clanking across the polished stone floor. Murmurs rose from the semicircle of councilors—fear, anger, opportunism—each one was eager to survive by feeding him to the flames.

Two chieftains stepped forward—the same men Evans had saved months ago. He had defended them before the trade council, saved their companies from collapse. Now their eyes gleamed with selfish relief.

One lifted his chin. “We inform the council that Evans Drakar directly weakened the army’s strategic barrier.”

The second added sharply, “His sabotage allowed the Aureldrake soldiers to overrun our forces and seize the gold mines. Those mines fueled our economy, our science—our future. And he destroyed all of it.”

Evans clenched his jaw. “You two owe your positions to me. And this… this is your repayment?”

Whispers rippled like fire across the chamber.

The first chieftain sneered. “You should not have interfered in military matters, boy.”

Evans narrowed his eyes. He could read their minds—faint currents of thought brushing his mind. He got to see that these men were bribed and that Ronan had promised them promotions if they helped bury him.

“You let Ronan buy you,” Evans hissed. “Both of you.”

Ronan, standing beside their father, gave a soft, pitiful shake of his head. “He’s panicking, Father. Celestro users twist words when cornered.”

Evans strained against the cuffs, but the runes on the cuffs tightened, paralyzing his dragon force.

The chamber lights dimmed as holographic screens flickered to life overhead. Data floated in the air—energy logs, communication trails, troop pathing, all of them were tied to Evans’s clearance signature.

A councilor slammed her palm against her desk. “Your signature appears at every breach point!”

Evans steadied his breath. “Anyone with high clearance can forge that. Look at the resonance lines—they’re inconsistent.”

The councilor scoffed. “Enough with your excuses.”

Another councilor rose sharply. “The Aureldrake ambush slaughtered half our frontline. Someone must answer for the blood spilled.”

Evans stared at them, fury and heartbreak tangling in his chest. “And you really think it’s me? I spent months building a system to keep our people alive this winter. I sacrificed almost half of my own Celestro energy to power the prototype!”

Silence flickered through the room.

Evans’s voice cracked. “I almost bled myself dry to serve this city. But the moment something goes wrong, you throw me to the wolves.”

Ronan stepped forward, eyes soft with rehearsed grief. “Your sacrifices don’t erase betrayal, Evans.”

Evans laughed without humor. “You’re not my brother right now.”

That line hit. Ronan’s mask slipped for a heartbeat—fear, irritation—but he quickly bowed his head. “The council sees the truth.”

Evans turned toward his father, desperation tightening his voice. “Father… the great winter is coming. The city needs the heat system. Without me, millions could freeze to death. You know this.”

Lord Adrian stood slowly and descended the steps toward him, each footstep echoing like a hammer.

Reaching the dais, he stared at Evans with eyes as cold as stone.

“You lost us our pride,” Adrian said. “Our gold. Our security.”

Evans flinched. “I didn’t—”

“Silence.”

Evans swallowed hard. “I’m your son, your heir…”

Lord Adrian took a scroll from a councilor and unrolled it with steady hands.

“As Grand Lord of Drakarion… you are no longer a noble of House Drakar. All lands, assets, inventions, and titles under your name are hereby confiscated. You will be removed from the registry and stripped of every privilege.”

Evans felt his knees weaken. “Father… how can you believe this?”

“Save your breath… traitor.”

The word sliced deeper than any blade.

Evans lowered his head, breath shaking. He had spent his entire life fighting for Drakarion, believing that loyalty mattered. Now they devoured him like he was nothing.

Lord Adrian raised his hand, and the chamber fell into utter silence.

“For the safety of Drakarion,” he declared, “and to show the Aureldrake kin that betrayal earns no mercy… Evans Drakar is hereby banished from our country.”

Gasps erupted—then the councilors slammed their staffs against the floor.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

The crowd rose to their feet, shouting and cheering—hungry for justice, blind to truth.

Evans barely felt his legs as the guards dragged him towards the exit. Everything he built, every night he destroyed his health for, every invention he poured himself into—it was all dust.

As he passed Ronan, he saw it.

Fear.

Real fear.

Ronan feared what Evans might become.

He feared the Celestro dragon within him. Feared the future he had tried so desperately to kill.

“You bastard…” Evans muttered, trembling with rage.

The guards hauled him away as council members whispered in relief.

Ronan stayed behind, watching the doors close.

When the chamber emptied, a masked figure stepped out of the shadows. His black military uniform bore elite tactical sigils. Rune dust shimmered faintly across his gloves.

Ronan didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the direction Evans had been taken.

“Tonight,” Ronan whispered, voice cold, “strip him of that Celestro dragon force completely.”

The masked figure stiffened. “My lord… extraction is unstable. It may kill him.”

Ronan’s voice didn’t waver. “And how is that my concern?”

The masked figure bowed his head, the runes on his mask flickering.