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I. Landing on Dragon Island

The expedition ship rocked violently amidst the raging waves. With a heavy, thunderous impact, the prow tore through the dense mist and finally slammed hard into the black reefs of Dragon Island—a land steeped in blood and legend.

Corvus was the first to cross the deck, stepping onto this desolate shore. His voice was reverently calm: "Everyone, we have arrived at Dragon Island."

Without stopping to rest, they plunged into the island's twisted, dark forest, evading the patrolling Mad Dragon Apostles along the outer perimeter as they sprinted at full speed toward the highest point of the island: the "Dragon Altar."

Along the way, the air was thick with the pungent stench of sulfur and heavy blood. Tremendous thunderclaps and dragon roars continuously shattered the distant sky—it was Lancelot, the Silver Wyvern, exhausting the last of his life to hold off Gawain, the Golden Wyvern.

When the group finally breached the steep stone steps and charged into the ancient, crumbling Dragon Altar, a slender yet resolute figure leapt into view.

Guinevere was kneeling in the center of the altar, her priestly robes—a symbol of purity—already stained with the ashes of war. Her hands gripped her staff with a desperate intensity, and fine beads of cold sweat trickled down her forehead. Pushing her innate Dragon-Language divine power to its absolute limit, her face was as pale as paper as she struggled to maintain the crumbling barrier against the shadowy forms of giant dragons swooping furiously from the sky.

Sensing the hasty footsteps, Guinevere snapped her eyes open. When she caught sight of the "Excalibur" glowing with Arthur’s regal aura at Senbonzakura’s waist, and the unquenchable fire of vengeance in Corvus’s eyes, a long-lost spark of hope was finally ignited in the exhausted priestess's eyes.

"You... you finally made it." Her voice was raspy as she pointed toward the cloud layer torn apart by lightning and snowstorms high above. "Lancelot won't hold out much longer... The power of the Mad Dragons is far more terrifying than we imagined!"

II. The Silver Shield

Above the Dragon Altar, the frigid air was shredded by intense heat and the thick stench of blood.

The lava-like eyes of Gawain, the Golden Wyvern, were locked dead onto Long Qianqian. It sensed it—the residue of the Mana Core belonging to Galawath, the Red Wyvern... the proof of betrayal against the Mad Dragon King! Gawain unleashed a roar that cracked the surrounding stone. Its massive frame twisted within the gale, and deep inside its open jaws, the extreme heat of its dragon breath surged like a falling sun, aiming straight at the fragile maiden.

At the critical moment, a silver phantom flashing with tragic lightning streaked across the sky!

It was Lancelot. Its scales shattered and blood raining down like water, the wyvern pushed beyond its physical limits to crash into Gawain's scorching dragon breath! The violent impact slammed the Silver Wyvern hard into the altar's stone pillars. The wings on its back were broken in multiple places, and its fading vitality left a shocking trail of silver blood across the shattered rock.

"Ugh—Ah—!"

Long Qianqian struggled to her feet, her voice cracking with terror and heartache. She scrambled on hands and knees to the side of that massive, battered body, reaching out with both hands to touch the armor plating that had once been as pure as snow, but was now charred and cracked. Her fingertips hovered in mid-air, not daring to make contact—she feared that with the gentlest touch, the dragon's remaining sliver of life would crumble into dust.

Lancelot trembled, painstakingly turning his battered head toward her. Those dragon eyes, once hollow and cold, softened into a cross-species, almost gentle sorrow the moment they met Qianqian's gaze. Through physical contact, its consciousness flowed faintly yet clearly into Qianqian’s mind:

‘Don’t be afraid...’ The voice was old and gentle, like a whisper echoing across vast spans of time. ‘Galawath... never regretted it. The oath of protection was never extinguished. What lies inside you... is not a curse, but the final gift left to this island.’

"But—" Long Qianqian's eyes instantly welled with tears, her voice choking up. "You're hurt so badly, why do you still—"

‘Because,’ Lancelot’s gaze swept over her gently before drifting toward Guinevere, who was struggling to hold on in the distance, ‘this is the meaning of our guardianship. Now... it’s your turn.’

Before the words could fully fade, the scorching shadow lingering high in the sky twisted and converged once more. Gawain had not given up after missing its first strike. Circling upward, the rage in its eyes flared even hotter, and deep within its massive throat, a dazzling golden-red light erupted once again—a second blast of dragon breath was plummeting down toward the defenseless Long Qianqian and the exhausted Lancelot on the ground!

"Don't you dare touch her!"

Corvus’s roar nearly tore through the air. Dropping to one knee, he raised his mechanical prosthetic arm, the Mana Cannon in his palm erupting with a blinding, cold white light. The power core spun frantically, emitting a high-frequency whine—this was the first time he had poured every last drop of his internal Mana reserves into a single attack without holding back!

"Mana Cannon—FIRE!"

A fierce beam of white light blasted forth, crashing directly into Gawain's rock-melting breath. The two forces violently intertwined and exploded over the altar. Dazzling white light and scorching golden-red locked in a fierce stalemate in mid-air, shaking the entire altar so violently that loose stones airborne, and the tempestuous shockwave flipped back Senbonzakura's hood.

"Hold it back... HOLD IT BACK!" Corvus gritted his teeth as a sharp, unbearable screeching of gears sounded from inside his prosthetic arm, with scorched sparks even leaking from the metal joints.

III. Thunder Strikes the Falling Dragon

Lancelot, lying on the ground, heard Corvus’s near-shrieking roar. Slowly closing his eyes, the final trace of dragon power remaining within his body gathered like a trickling stream toward the shattered spine on his back.

He knew this was the last thing his body could ever do.

‘Guinevere... forgive me for not being able to watch the next sunrise with you.’

Beneath the silver-white scales, wild arcs of lightning crackled and erupted like living creatures. Lancelot snapped his eyes open, and using every last ounce of strength left in his body, blasted a bolt of wild, chaotic lightning from deep within his shattered wings—that bolt of thunder was more violent than any strike from his peak form, because within it burned the very last of his life!

The rolling thunder pierced through the standoff of light and flame between Corvus and Gawain, striking Gawain's undefended flank with pinpoint precision. The massive golden body convulsed violently in mid-air, losing its balance. It unleashed a deafening cry of agony as it plunged toward the edge of the altar like a severed kite, throwing up a massive cloud of dust upon impact.

"Now's the time!"

Senbonzakura's figure was already darting forward like an arrow released from a bow. She drew the "Excalibur" glowing with golden brilliance at her waist; the blade trembled and hummed in her grip, as if sensing the deep willpower of the Arthurian bloodline. Tapping her toes against the debris, she transformed into a speed-of-sound shadow, leaping high into the air above Gawain's unhealed golden armor.

"Ultimate Technique—Cherry Blossom Spirit Slash!"

Excalibur dragged forth a lethal trajectory of sword-energy that scattered like falling cherry blossoms. Wherever the blade passed, Gawain's indestructible golden scales burst open, leaving a deep, bone-exposing slash from its shoulder blade all the way down to its flank. Scalding golden dragon blood gushed out, staining the surrounding rubble a blinding bloody-gold.

Gawain let out a roar of agony and rage, its massive body thrashing violently on the ground.

IV. Awakening of the Red Dragon

"Lancelot!"

Long Qianqian threw herself beside the massive body that was almost completely drained of life, her tears finally bursting through the dam. She held tightly onto the cold, rough scales, her voice broken with sobs: "I beg you... please don't..."

Lancelot opened his eyes weakly and gently nuzzled the maiden's cheek with his snout, a gesture as tender as an elderly elder bidding a final farewell to a child. He poured the most primal and pure spirit of "protection" remaining in his body, along with his memories of Galawath, unreservedly into Qianqian’s Mana Core.

‘The fire of protection... never extinguishes... Go, child, and finish what he couldn't.’

That awakened surge of primal heat crashed through Long Qianqian's body and limbs. She snapped her head up; her originally dark pupils instantly turned into a burning amber hue, and the surrounding air twisted violently due to the sudden spike in temperature.

Not far away, Corvus felt a frantic vibration coming from his "Crystal Eye"—it was a trembling resonance sharing the same source as the core inside Qianqian. He made a split-second decision:

"Mana Link, initiate!"

An invisible spiritual tether snapped into place between the two of them. Through the Crystal Eye link, Corvus funneled all the remaining magic in his body into Long Qianqian’s awakening form, injecting the final support needed for her unstable Mana drive.

"Sister, don't be afraid—I'm here." His voice rang clearly through the link into the depths of her surging consciousness. "This time, it's our turn to protect you."

A pillar of crimson light shot skyward, and Long Qianqian's silhouette stretched and transformed within the red glow. Bones and flesh produced subtle crackling sounds as she ultimately morphed into a red-scaled giant dragon hovering above the altar—she was the continuation of Galawath's will, the proud and unyielding Red Wyvern that had once guarded this island!

The struggling Gawain snapped its head up from the ground, genuine dread leaking from its lava-like eyes for the very first time. It opened its maw to roar and tried to spread its wings to flee, but it was unable to move due to the bone-deep slash on its flank and the chaotic dragon power surging within its body.

Qianqian’s Red Dragon form turned into a soaring storm of inferno that ripped through the dark night, descending from above with world-ending pressure. The scorching red flames bursting around her bent and distorted the air, and at a speed nearly invisible to the naked eye, she drove straight through the chest of Gawain, the Golden Wyvern.

"BOOM—!!"

Accompanied by a earth-shattering explosion, Gawain's massive golden body froze violently for a split second. Immediately after came the sickening sounds of "CRACK, BANG—!" as flesh, bone, and blood shattered apart; that insufferably arrogant golden body burst open from the inside, collapsing inch by inch!

Sky-filling splashes of golden blood, meat, and shattered armor fell like countless dying suns collapsing at once, trailing beautiful yet tragic embers across the air before silently scattering over the blood-stained ancient altar.

V. Echoes of the Dragon Vein

Above the altar, the frigid wind was dispelled by the scorching dragon breath, yet it could not carry away the heavy stench of blood. Guinevere collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion, her eyes drained, but as she looked at Corvus and the others, a faint, grateful smile forced its way onto her lips.

"Thank you... If you hadn't arrived in time, Lancelot would have already..." She choked up, her slender fingers trembling as they rested on Lancelot's battered dragon scales. A soft yet profound pale-golden light surged from her palm—it was the purest life essence of the Dragon Vein, flowing continuously into the dying body of the Silver Wyvern to mend those horrifying wounds.

At the edge of the altar, Long Qianqian, exhausted from her outburst, had reverted to her young maiden form, quietly curled up among the rubble in a deep sleep. Corvus walked over briskly, taking off his trench coat to cover her. Only when his fingers brushed against her cheek did he realize that his own hand was still trembling slightly.

Guinevere struggled to support her body, her gaze turning increasingly grave as she looked toward the sky. She felt the violent tremors rising from the earth beneath her feet—it was the Dragon Vein trembling in fear, crying out in sorrow. "The Dragon Vein is shaking violently..." Her voice was low and tinged with anxiety. "Arthur's long-dormant dragon power as the 'True Dragon King' has reawakened."

She turned her eyes toward Senbonzakura, her gaze locking firmly onto Excalibur. The legendary weapon was pulsing uneasily inside its sheath, emitting a low, ecstatic hum as if resonating strongly with a distant call. Boundless, heavenly dragon power spilled from the blade continuously, shredding the air around the altar into pieces.

"This resonance... will guide you to Arthur." Guinevere looked around at the peril-laden isolated island, her face as pale as paper. "The Mad Dragon King and his fanatical 'Mad Dragon Apostles' have long set up an inescapable net, searching the entire island. They feel the awakening of Arthur's dragon power as well—we must find Arthur, the 'True Dragon King', before they do!" 14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfpCAekYIW9

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