Flashback: Fheldin's Youth (2/2)

Without ceremony, Fheldin kicked his father's doors down. To no surprise, he found the old dragon in bed with another one of his concubines.

"WHO DARES!?" Lord Yelken roared in anger.

"My, my," Fheldin chuckled sarcastically, "You're senses have grown dull after indulging yourself so much. I can't believe you didn't sense me coming."

Seeing the absent look on his father's face, Fheldin frowns in disappointment. "What? You don't recognize me? I'm your son, Fheldin."

The Elder dragon sat up on his bed and threw a blanket at the woman besides him. "Put that on and get out!" he growled at her.

The woman – no doubt some kingdom's princess, quickly clothed herself and fled. She knew very well that getting between two angry dragons is suicide. She was more than happy to leave.

Once they're both alone in the bedchamber, Lord Yelken surprisingly doesn't swipe his son's head off. Instead, he frowns and asks in a low voice, "What is it?"

Fheldin shrugs. "Oh, I just came by to let you know that I'm leaving home."

"… I assume you're not planning on sneaking out… are you?" Fheldin's father asked. No matter how hard Fheldin tried to pin his father's tone right then, he could never do it.

Was the old dragon angry? Surprised? Impressed?

Who knows. Either way, Fheldin didn't have much to say this man. All he answered to this was a simple nod.

"I hope you know what means to announce your departure…," Yelken says in a low voice as he slowly rises to his feet.

Instead of answering, Fheldin drew his swords and pointed one of them at the master of this castle. "Good bye, father."

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The next moment, half of the castle was blown off the face of Arra, yet surprisingly, the old dragon didn't hear his son's painful groans or pathetic gasps for help.

Instead, a long sword flies out of the explosion towards the old dragon.

Yet… the split second before the sword struck Yelken's chest, it veered down of it's own accord and struck the ground.

Fheldin, who was stabbing with the sword at the time, was understandably shocked. He didn't feel any force pushing his sword down. Rather, the only reason he missed was because he, himself, lowered the blade mid-strike.

"Hmm…," Lord Yelken mumbled casually. "Impressive. If it weren't for the Goddess's Gift, you'd have cut me."

Due to Fheldin's hatred for Yelken, he completely missed the proud shine in his father's eyes.

Yelken looked up and smiled. "Hmm… Enough playing around. Come with me. There's a little ritual I'd like to perform with you."

Maybe it was because of instinct, or maybe it was because of this "Goddess's Gift" his father spoke of, but Fheldin obeyed without hesitation.

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Much like Fheldin and Dakka, Yelkin took his son to the same teleportation circle deep below the palace, and they teleported to a distance moon.

There, they performed a sacrifice to the Dragon Goddess. After only a few introductory words, Fheldin learned all about the Bloodchosen, and he learned the real reason why he was unable to complete an attack against his father.

Indeed, it's against the laws of the universe for a dragon to ever harm one of the Goddess's Bloodchosen.

With the formalities out of the way, they began their duel.

Frankly, Lord Yelken never planned on going easy on his son. He was expecting this fight to only last a few moves.

Instead, the great Elder Dragon realized that, cut after cut, this child of his was an even match for him, despite only having 5 Horns.

His son's control over his powers were so fine he couldn't detect his Aura. Being in Drakavar's Soul Realm, where all powers are magnified to the intergalactic scale, Fheldin's little talent made it next to impossible to find him whenever he chose to hide.

When Yelken would try destroying everything around him in large arcs of flame breathes, Fheldin would take advantage of how thinly his powers were dispersed, and he'd cut a small hole for his body to safely pass through.

Whenever Fheldin managed to get close, he'd only have time for a single strike before he had to retreat again. With every strike, he'd leave a small hole in one of the Elder Dragon's scales.

As the days went by, Lord Yelken's scales were broken one by one. Soon enough, little Fheldin's nicks were drawing blood.

Still, no matter how hard Yelken fought, he couldn't find the more agile dragon.

There were countless galaxies flowing like pebbles by a stream in this Realm, so Fheldin really could've been hiding anywhere.

Sometimes, Yelken would pause and wait – anticipating another strike. However, none would come.

Sometimes, he'd go hunting for his son, only for that rebellious child to completely disappear for weeks on end.

Whenever he'd stop to sleep, his son would fly by and nick him again. Ever so slowly, the Elder Dragon was whittled down by his son.

As his energy bled from him over the coming years, he'd frequently roar his challenge to the lesser dragon – usually calling him a coward along the way.

Fheldin, on the other hand, was feeling genuine pleasure and joy as he fought. He'd spent so much pain and effort to hone his skills, so it felt beyond euphoric to face his father evenly and have all of his efforts validated.

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Eventually, Fheldin realized that his father was on his last breathe. The old monster's wings were already torn from his back, and only a small patch of scales on his neck was remaining. Covering his skin were thousands of cuts and bruises.

Most importantly, Yelken's eyes were dull with exhaustion, and his breathing was weak.

At last, Fheldin knew that the time for patience was over. It was time to finish the old monster off.

Their last battle was surprisingly short, though it didn't go the way Fheldin expected.

As it turned out, Yelken was pretending to be a lot more exhausted than he really was. So, when Fheldin went in to deliver the final blow, the older dragon retaliated with a lot of Force.

Unfortunately, Fheldin was caught in his father's trap, and he had no way of escaping.

And so, without being intimidated, Fheldin turned into his dragon form for the first time in thousands of years.

In the end, his father had gotten so used to his son avoiding his draconic form, that he was subconsciously ignoring the possibility that his son could do anything but swing his swords around.

Thus, being caught off guard, Yelken was unable to pull his head back in time before his son's teeth were clamped around his throat.

Roaring in rage, Yelken gripped his son's neck and attempted to snap it in half with his clawed hands.

But before he could do this, Fheldin straightened his clawed fingered and plunged them into his father's heart, like an assassins dagger finding its mark.

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The air was forcefully punched out of Yelken's lungs, and his roar ended like a deflating bag - wheezing and breathless.

One dragon had his hands around the other's neck, and the other had his clawed hands in his chest.

For several moments, the two dragons floated in the heavens – together in a death grip. Both were still, yet only one was bleeding.

"…Do you remember my mother…?" Fheldin whispered in his father's ears.

There was silence.

"No? I thought not," Fheldin frowned in displeasure. "Well? Are you prepared to die? How does it feel to have your empire taken from you?"

Normally, it's the man who has everything that's the most afraid of dying. Under this logic, Lord Yelken should've been begging for his life, or at least having his life flash before his eyes.

Instead, Lord Yelken gave a toothy smile and hissed. "Loooonnnnggg… liiivvveee… the kiiiiinnnng…."

When Yelken reached up with his front claw, Fheldin thought the old monster was making one last, futile attack.

Feeling a sense of danger, Fheldin leapt back and made some distance between them.

However, when he looked back, he saw his father's entire body glowing with brilliant, crimson Aura, and his horns started to glow with a golden light.

Slowly, Yelken reached his hand up to his head, and he curled his clawed fingers around his largest horn.

"It's… a pity…," Yelken groaned wearily, "… for one so skilled… to forever… be stuck… as a… 5-horned… dragon."

Yelken tilted his head to one side, and started pulling on his horn with the other.

"You… make better use… of this… than me…"

With these being his final words, Yelken used his remaining strength to rip his 6th Horn from his head.

With a loud crack, the tyrant's power was broken, and the fire in his eyes went dull.

Yelken's corpse quickly withered away – only leaving a single horn behind floating in the heavens and waiting to be taken by the first dragon brave enough to claim it.

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Fheldin cautiously drifted toward the floating horn, and he took ahold of it with one hand.

Almost out of instinct, Fheldin stabbed the stray horn into his palm. Instead of hurting him, the horn seem to dissipate into energy and melt into his blood.

As the horn was pushed further and further into his flesh, the higher and higher his new, 6th Horn reached out of his skull.

Fheldin may not be able to hear his father the flesh anymore, but he could feel his father's linger will in his new horn. Even though the Will was rapidly disspating, he received his father's last words.

"The art of donating a horn is a forbidden power… only a bloodchosen can wield," Yelken warned seriously. "Keep your identity as a Halnith-Kae a secret, else… you'll make an enemy… out of all the gods…"

"Let them come then!" Fheldin growled.

"Us… Drakin… aren't what we once were…," Yelken sighed wistfully. "All you can do is perform you duties as a bloodchosen well. Wait for the Goddess to return! You're good at waiting, right?"

Yelken's voice suddenly became strained, and he croaked out, "She'll come… and take revenge on the gods for us! Protect our race until then!"

There was deep grief and longing in the dragon's voice.

The old dragon's agitation seemed to have spent most of his remaining spiritual strength, for his voice suddenly faltered, and his Will dimmed.

"You're… a better dragon than I ever was," Yelken mumbled softly. "You won't disappoint the Goddess like I have…"

"Anything else to say?" Fheldin crosses his arms.

"Just… be…. safe…, Lord… Fh…e…l…d…i…n…"

With that, Yelken's voice went silent, and his soul stirred no more.