The Fate of the Nine Dragons

The remains of the battlefield—a once-thriving rainforest now scarred by fire and conflict. Trees lie uprooted, their branches twisted and broken. The ground is charred, rivers clogged with debris, and the air thick with smoke and the scent of scorched earth. In the distance, Jakarta’s skyline is marred by collapsed buildings and lingering smoke.

David stands alone amidst the ruins, his shoulders slumped, his body frail. The Dragon Crown lies at his feet, its once-glowing gems now dull, void of power. His eyes are hollow, haunted by the visions he witnessed—the worlds he could have destroyed, the futures he could have shaped.

His knees buckle, and he collapses, his fingers digging into the ashen soil.

David's voice breaking. “What have I done...?”

Bintang approaches slowly, his face grim as he surveys the devastation. He stands beside David, his hand resting on his shoulder. “You saved us... But at what cost?”