The Dragon Lord's Aide Wants to Quit [BL] Chapter 426: The White Dragon’s Legacy

Ever seen a scene so beautiful that it became impossible to erase from one’s mind?

Well, sure, to most, that day couldn’t have been further from beautiful.

But to Rhazira...

It absolutely was.

Even now, after more years than she could count had passed, she found herself reliving those precious moments whenever her thoughts drifted toward the forbidden flames. It was only a brief glimpse before she used the moment to stage her inevitable draconic demise and slip away toward the dragon clan’s vault, yet it had engraved itself in her memory more deeply than anything else she’d experienced.

Because unlike everyone else whose screams had been born from unimaginable agony as those flames devoured them whole, Rhazira had screamed for an entirely different reason.

Yes, there had been pain.

Excruciating pain.

But beneath it...

She’d been rejoicing.

For that day also marked the beginning of her true freedom.

See, back then, those flames weren’t forbidden in quite the same way they were today.

Ironically enough, unbeknownst to most, the terrifying reputation those flames now carried was, in large part, thanks to her.

At the time, they were little more than whispered cautionary tales, something modern humans would probably compare to the bogeyman. Parents invoked them to frighten misbehaving hatchlings into obedience, while ordinary dragons never actually expected to witness them firsthand. After all, they weren’t something that just any dragon could access. Only the dragon lords and a select few entrusted with ancient knowledge truly understood where those flames originated from and just how catastrophically destructive they really were.

Everyone else simply trusted that their leaders knew better.

That those entrusted with such power would heed the warnings left behind by their predecessors.

Unfortunately...

What exactly was one supposed to do when the current dragon lord believed those warnings didn’t apply to him?

After all, why should he listen to those washed-up dragons from other clans when, in his mind, they could simply be exaggerating the dangers to suppress the white dragons’ potential?

Honestly, to those unfortunate people...

She’d recommend blaming her father for that particular lapse in judgment.

True, she’d been the one to casually plant the seed, carefully nudging his curiosity whenever the opportunity presented itself. But planting an idea and choosing to pursue it were two entirely different matters, and it had been her father who’d eagerly watered that seed until it grew into full-blown obsession.

He’d insisted on seeing it through.

Yes, all the way to his grave, even.

Admittedly, watching that journey unfold had been immensely satisfying, even if it had also been paved with blood, tears, and the desperate sight of white dragons throwing themselves toward a dragon lord they normally had no choice but to remain loyal to. One after another, they rushed forward, desperately trying to save the very dragon whose arrogance had brought calamity upon them all, while he could only let out agonized roars as the horrifying realization finally dawned on him.

He had been in way over his head from the very beginning.

__

The white dragon lord finally realized that what he’d mistaken for limitless potential had simply been limitless arrogance.

As the flames consumed him from the inside out, the sheer horror on his face told everyone exactly how catastrophically wrong he’d been. It wasn’t the expression of a dragon who still believed he could overcome the situation through strength alone. It was the face of someone who’d finally realized he was hopelessly outmatched.

The other dragons instinctively recoiled from both him and Rhazira, who was burning as well, but in a completely different way.

The white dragons, however, still tried to move forward.

Not that they wanted to, but because their lord had ordered them to.

Even as every instinct screamed that something was fundamentally wrong with what they were witnessing, generations of unquestioning loyalty compelled them to obey.

The other clans were nowhere near as eager.

Particularly those with resolute elder dragons.

The more experienced among them immediately ordered everyone to retreat, their voices carrying an urgency that few had ever heard before. They didn’t simply tell their clansmen to step back.

They practically ordered an evacuation.

Someone from the black dragon clan had already realized what was happening and shouted that those flames weren’t something any dragon should ever attempt to touch.

Momentarily, that annoyed Rhazira.

She’d honestly been hoping to drag as many of those self-righteous sinners down with her father as possible.

Unfortunately, things didn’t quite unfold that way.

Instead, another realization gradually spread among the white dragons.

The coronation, albeit unfinished, had already taken place.

Which meant...

The dragon they’d been conditioned to obey no longer held the authority to command them.

So the moment someone finally shouted, "Seal it! Seal the flames!" everything changed.

For the first time in their lives...

They truly turned against that insane dragon while casually forgetting that, technically, they still should’ve gone to Rhazira’s aid. If only someone had noticed that their new dragon lord had never truly intended to be saved, then perhaps they would’ve questioned why none of them had felt compelled to move in that very moment.

Oh, but thankfully for the vengeful halfling, they didn’t.

Unfortunately, despite her success, Rhazira didn’t have the luxury of watching how everything unfolded from beginning to end.

She had only managed to buy just enough time to carry out her own plans before disappearing, and lingering any longer would’ve meant throwing away everything she’d worked toward.

Even so...

There was one image she made certain to engrave into her memory.

The look on her father’s face.

The precise moment he realized what sealing those flames actually meant.

They weren’t just sealing the fire.

They were sealing it with him.

His life had become the price required to calm the raging inferno.

Admittedly, one dragon in exchange for the countless lives he’d destroyed was nowhere near what Rhazira would’ve considered fair compensation. She would eventually finish the job herself, ensuring the complete destruction of the white dragon clan that had dared eradicate the wyverns, but at the time, watching her father burn had still felt like a victory.

More importantly...

It gave her exactly the footing she needed.

The dragons of today likely had no idea that any of that had ever happened.

Because had they known, then perhaps they would’ve recognized the warning signs much sooner.

Back when she was younger, and she realized that news of her father’s downfall and the disgrace of the white dragon clan had somehow failed to spread, she had been genuinely outraged.

Shouldn’t everyone have known what he’d done?

Shouldn’t history have remembered the price of his arrogance?

There were many things she wanted to complain about.

Looking back now, however...

She was almost grateful, thankful that those remaining dragons picked the path they eventually did.

See, the surviving white dragons had apparently negotiated away their future right to ascend as dragon lords in exchange for everyone else’s silence and for that stain upon their clan’s history to never become part of official record.

It seemed they’d collectively decided that surrendering the highest position a dragon clan could ever attain was an acceptable price, so long as the clan itself survived and their descendants weren’t forever condemned to bear the sins of the one mad dragon lord who had unfortunately come from the same line.

Well, such was the price of salvaging what was left of their dignity.

To be fair, Rhazira had already allowed them to enjoy that fragile illusion of peace for far longer than their ancestors had ever afforded the wyverns.

In fact, she had only returned because the dragons, in all their infinite wisdom, had once again decided to meddle with her beloved.

Of course, they hadn’t known that at all, only fighting for what they assumed was their survival, but who cares?

Because in the end, what truly made all the subsequent events possible was the dragons’ own obsession with preserving appearances. They’d always believed that if no one spoke of a disgrace, then perhaps it had never truly happened. Weren’t they sounding more like ostriches instead of dragons?

So really, they shouldn’t be blaming her for how blindsided their descendants had become.

Perhaps if those ancient dragons had chosen honesty over reputation and passed down everything they knew instead of burying it alongside their pride, then the younger generations might’ve at least understood where all of this had begun.

Ah...

And better yet...

They would’ve known that, in all that chaos, they’d also lost something infinitely more precious.

The literal map leading to the initially scattered remains of the primordial dragon.

But with the dragon lord’s seat left vacant and every dragon who’d known the truth eventually fading out of history...

There was really no one left who could’ve realized what had truly disappeared alongside them.

Then again, even if they heard the rumors, which prideful dragon would actually believe that, in exchange for obtaining something so precious, a being already at the top of the food chain had willingly given up dragonhood?