The Dragon Lord's Aide Wants to Quit [BL] Chapter 416: Wrath and Despair

There were countless words that could be used to describe what surged through Kael at that moment.

Anger.

Rage.

Hatred.

Loathing.

Yet somehow all of them felt woefully inadequate compared to the all-consuming wrath flooding his veins the instant his eyes landed upon someone who should’ve died centuries ago.

It had been that long.

For years, the memory had remained fresh by his own choice. A wound he refused to allow to heal because forgetting felt too much like absolution. Because if he stopped remembering, then perhaps he would also stop remembering how badly he had failed.

Recently, however...

Things had changed drastically. He’d been given a new lease on life, one that made him look forward to waking up each day. Hoping—no, practically praying it wouldn’t be the last.

With Riley’s return, the scar he’d deliberately kept open all those years had finally begun to close.

Or at least, that was what Kael had believed.

Until now.

Until the very moment all that hard-earned progress shattered apart as blood rushed violently to his head.

Because standing there, a mountain range away, was a figure that had haunted him day after day and year after year.

Sure, this particular figure wasn’t currently melting apart beneath the flames of Forbidden Fire, but even without seeing that unhinged expression or hearing that maddening laughter, how could he even forget?

There was simply no way Kael wouldn’t recognize that one remaining wing extending from the back of that half-masked figure.

The intruder.

The criminal who had ransacked and murdered through the dragon estate.

The main culprit in all those years of separation.

The very same monster who had come fully intending to kill his mate.

"!!!"

Kael’s eyes slit into sharp, dangerous lines, his muscles coiling as he prepared to leap from that high perch and completely annihilate the figure he could see from a mountain away.

After trying and repeatedly failing to locate this wretched being, a difference of one mountain could only be considered insignificant.

Meaningless.

And so, despite the fact that the very figure he’d spent so long trying to locate was currently down below, calmly issuing orders to subordinates far larger and bulkier in stature, all Kael could think about was tearing that lunatic apart.

There was no way he could have a repeat of that day.

Just the thought of his mate’s blood being spilled made the dragon lord let out a low growl, the sound resembling a predator preparing for a hunt.

However, before the golden dragon could fly off the handle, his eyes were suddenly covered by an extremely familiar hand. Slender palms and fingers pressed over Kael’s eyes, blocking the view.

"Hey, hey, Honey."

"I’m here. Right in front of you," Riley murmured quietly, pressing himself against him in reassurance.

"Focus on me."

Then, even softer—

"Please."

Kael’s body was practically vibrating, his entire frame rigid and very ready to jump at the opportunity to attack.

And had Riley still been as fragile as the mortal he once was, he might have become the first accidental casualty of the day. Not because Kael had actually made a move against him, but simply because of the overwhelming pressure the dragon lord was unconsciously releasing in the heat of the moment.

Thankfully, he was a rehabilitating black dragon now. Better yet, he had the Dravaryn Clan’s family heirloom resting on his finger, allowing him to contain the mana leaking from Kael and hopefully prevent their enemies from sensing their presence.

Even so, it took several long moments of Riley firmly pressing himself against his mate before the situation began to improve.

For someone who’d spent centuries exercising near-perfect control over his emotions and power, a leak of this magnitude could only mean one thing.

Kael was profoundly destabilized.

Which only left one question.

Just what had the dragon lord seen that was enough to drive him into a frenzy like this?

Well, apparently, one figure who didn’t even spare a second glance before lashing out at a subordinate.

Riley wasn’t new to violence.

But even he hadn’t expected to look over and immediately be greeted by a severed head sailing through the air.

The kneeling figure hadn’t even managed to react.

One moment it was bowing alongside the others.

The next, blood was spraying from a neck that no longer had a head attached to it.

The corpse remained upright for a brief, surreal moment before finally toppling forward.

Meanwhile, the one responsible simply continued standing there as though nothing had happened.

What the—?!

__

Hell.

Apparently, unbeknownst to the countless beings currently gripped by anxiety as they speculated about the meaning behind that ominous pillar of light, there was already one faction that had been living through something far closer to hell for much longer than everyone else.

Ironically enough, it was the very same faction responsible for everyone’s current worries.

The wyverns.

Or rather, what had become of the surviving wyverns of the past.

Because the creatures wandering Wyrmfall now barely resembled what they once were.

And after enduring centuries of suffering, isolation, and transformation, they truly believed they were standing at the threshold of salvation.

Everything had been proceeding perfectly.

Nothing could have been more exhilarating than watching the prison crack before their very eyes. For generations, they had worked toward this singular moment. Entire lifetimes had been spent preparing for it. Sacrifices had been made. Bodies had been broken. Minds had been lost.

Yet all of it felt worthwhile when they finally witnessed the ancient seal fracturing apart.

Then came the final breakthrough.

The glorious beam of light that pierced the heavens and announced to the entirety of Eryndra that their King had returned.

At that point, only one task remained.

The last step.

The most important step.

The empty cavity where their King’s heart had once resided needed to be filled.

That was all.

A suitable replacement had already been prepared long ago. Carefully nurtured. Carefully preserved. Something cultivated over centuries specifically for this purpose.

Once it was placed within him, everything would finally proceed as intended.

So what if they had failed to perfectly break the seal using that insignificant amount of blood from a golden runt?

That no longer mattered.

With the power they had painstakingly prepared, their King would surely be able to accomplish the rest himself.

That had been the expectation.

The promise they had clung to all this time.

Yet when the ritual finally began, and the unsealed chest closed under the influence of a runic spell centuries in the making, the result was not what anyone expected.

The moment the heart settled within the cavity, something unexpected occurred.

Instead of hearing a victorious roar, angry streaks of red spread outward as though something had ruptured inside.

As though the newly implanted heart had exploded from within.

The carefully prepared heart convulsed.

"No..."

Several voices whispered in disbelief.

The same heart they had spent centuries nurturing.

The same heart countless wyverns had sacrificed themselves to sustain.

The same heart that was supposed to herald the beginning of a new age.

It was being rejected.

All around them, the celebration died before it could even begin.

Hope gave way to confusion.

Confusion gave way to dread.

And then came the scream.

A furious cry echoed throughout the cavern, causing every wyvern present to freeze.

The woman standing before the shattered prison trembled as she stared at the disaster unfolding before her eyes.

For centuries she had waited.

Endured.

Devoted everything to this single moment.

Only to be greeted by this?

The sound that escaped her throat was not merely anger.

It was the howl of someone watching centuries of effort crumble apart before her very eyes.