Recording Hall

“Don’t make a scene, Marcus.” Sophia’s eyes, always so cold, flicked over him as if he were an unwanted stain. “A Saintess can’t be sullied by a man like you. Keep your distance.” For three years, Marcus Steel was a ghost in his own marriage. His wife, worshipped for her holy power, never let him near—not even a touch, not a night together. Yet every gathering, she let Alexander—her so-called ‘brother,’ his former best friend—rest his head in her lap, her hand stroking his hair, their laughter intimate and careless for the world to see. “Does it ever bother you?” Marcus whispered one night, desperation thick in his voice. “That you give him what you never gave me?” Sophia only smiled, distant as ever. “Alexander needs me. You… you’re just my duty.” When the earthquake shattered the banquet hall, Marcus reached for her through the falling debris. “Sophia! Please! Just take my hand—help me!” But her golden barrier was already around Alexander. She didn’t even look at Marcus as he screamed, “I’m your husband! Don’t leave me—” “I can’t save everyone,” she said, voice like ice. “Alex is injured. I promised to protect him.” As rubble crushed his body and hope faded, something ancient awoke in Marcus. Flames danced in his blood, power surging from the pain, the betrayal. From the ashes of humiliation and heartbreak, a dragon roared to life. Marcus Steel is dead. The Dragon King rises—and the Saintess will beg for mercy she never showed.