Chapter 9: The Iron Ring and the Dragon's Wrath

​The heavy ring of armored soldiers closed in around the ruined hall, their polished steel shields locked tightly together to form an unyielding wall of defense.

Torches flickered in the smoky corridors, casting long, dancing shadows across the blood-stained marble. They believed they had cornered a stray beast, that the sheer weight of their numbers would crush any lingering defiance.

They were entirely, catastrophically mistaken. ​I did not wait for their commander to bark an order, nor did I allow them to complete their tactical formation. ​With a sudden, explosive burst of muscle power, I broke into a sprinting charge.

The internal dragon vitality surged through my limbs, transforming my stride into a blur of raw motion. Before the frontline vanguard could raise their spears, I slammed directly into their formation like a falling meteor. ​A wave of dense, dark crimson and black flames erupted from my palms, washing over the leading ranks.

The impact sent shockwaves through the interlocking shields, tearing the heavy metal plates from the soldiers' grips and hurling them backward.

​Simultaneously, I released the full weight of my suppressed aura. A heavy, suffocating pressure radiated outward from my core, filling the hall with a terrifying, primal dominance.

The veteran soldiers, men who had fought in bloody border skirmishes and slain wild beasts, suddenly froze in their tracks. Their chests tightened as if an invisible mountain were pressing down upon them. Unconsciously, the front ranks began to stagger backward, their eyes wide with sheer, unadulterated terror at the monstrous presence before them.

​"Hold your ground! Do not let the bastard move!" a booming voice echoed from the rear of the formation. ​Stepping heavily through the trembling ranks, the commander of the Vane estate guards pushed his way to the front.

He was a towering giant of a man, clad in thick black plate armor, wielding a massive, double-bladed iron spear etched with defensive runic inscriptions. His face was twisted into an aggressive snarl of absolute arrogance, convinced that his strength and rank were enough to put an end to the chaos.

​"You arrogant little trash!" the commander roared, spinning his heavy spear in a blinding arc before pointing the razor-sharp tip directly at my chest. "You think because you sneaked past the outer gate you can challenge House Vane?

I will carve your heart out and feed it to the hounds!"

​I stopped my advance, standing mere paces away from him. My expression remained entirely cold and detached, untouched by his theatrical fury. ​"Your armor is heavy," I whispered, my voice cutting cleanly through the tension of the room. "Let's see if it protects you from the weight of your own mistakes."

​With a roar of pure rage, the commander lunged forward, thrusting his heavy iron spear straight toward my heart with enough force to pierce solid granite. ​I did not dodge. I did not draw a blade. ​Just as the steel tip was a mere inch from my chest, I raised my bare hand and clamped my fingers directly onto the shaft of the spear.

The kinetic momentum of the thrust slammed into my palm, generating a shockwave of wind that blew my dark hair back, but my hand did not yield an inch. The physical condensation of my dragon-forged bones absorbed the terrifying impact effortlessly.

​The commander’s eyes bulged in absolute disbelief. He heaved upward, trying to yank his weapon free, but it felt as though it had been welded into solid bedrock. ​"My turn," I said softly. ​I channeled a concentrated surge of internal dragon fire down the metal shaft and snapped my wrist with a brutal twist of physical strength.

​CRACK!

​The thick iron spear fractured down the middle with a deafening shriek of snapping metal.

The shockwave of heat traveled up the shaft, scorching the commander's gauntlets and sending a blast of fire straight into his chest. He shrieked as the impact threw him violently backward, crashing through a row of wooden benches before lying motionless in the debris. ​The surrounding guards stared in horror at their fallen leader.

The unbreakable morale of the estate's army shattered in an instant. ​I did not let them recover. Taking advantage of their frozen hesitation, I swept my gaze across the massive, vaulted hall, locking eyes on the structural pillars of stone that supported the heavy ceiling above.

​I sprinted toward the nearest central load-bearing pillar, drawing back my right fist as the dark crimson flames flared to blinding intensity. With a final, ferocious roar, I unleashed a devastating punch directly into the heart of the stone column.

​BOOM!

​The impact sounded like a collapsing mountain.

The massive stone pillar shattered into countless shards, sending deep, spiderweb cracks racing up toward the ceiling. Deprived of its core support, the heavy upper masonry began to groan and fracture. Tons of stone, dust, and debris rained down from above, crashing directly into the center of the soldiers' formation.

​The falling rubble created an impenetrable barrier of jagged stone and thick dust, completely cutting off the courtyard reinforcements and trapping the remaining elite guards inside a natural, inescapable tomb of their own making. They could neither advance nor retreat.

​The chaos of the courtyard fell silent, replaced by the crackling of unquenchable flames and the heavy breathing of trapped men. ​I stood amidst the ruins, the smoke swirling around my shoulders like a cape, my eyes fixed on the path ahead. The first line of defense was completely crushed.