Dragon Peak – The Hanging Gardens Entrance

  Isaac landed like a feather in the obsidian shadows cast by the massive colonnades surrounding the palace. The Amulet in his pocket hummed softly, creating a null zone around him. To the draconic guards patrolling the skies and the grounds, he was nothing more than empty air.

  He observed the main entrance. The elite of Valoon were arriving. Nobles, generals, and ancient dragons in their humanoid forms, all wearing elaborate masks of gold, silver, and polished scales. It was a masquerade ball—the perfect cover.

  One guest, dressed in midnight-blue silk and a long cape, stepped away from the main flow to adjust his boot near a statue of Yamato.

  Isaac moved. No sound. No warning.

  He emerged from the darkness behind the guest, applying a precise sleeper hold. There was no struggle. The noble dragon went limp in Isaac's arms before he even realized he was under attack.

  "Sorry, pal..." Isaac whispered, laying him gently behind the statue base. "I need this."

  Quickly, Isaac stripped the guest of his cape and took his mask—an elegant piece covering the entire face, stylized like a dragon. He donned the outfit, adjusting the high collar to hide any trace of his combat armor underneath.

  He searched the pockets and found the invitation, engraved on a slab of golden metal.

  "Haruto..." Isaac read the name etched on the gold. "Okay. Tonight, I am Haruto."

  He walked to the main gate. The guard, a hulk with visible scales on his neck, took the golden slab. He sniffed the air, confused by the lack of a draconic scent, but the magic of the VIP invitation and the impeccable attire spoke louder.

  "Enjoy the night, Lord Haruto."

  Isaac took the invitation back and crossed the threshold.

  Yamato’s Great Hall

  The interior was breathtaking. The ceiling was open to the starry sky, and floating lanterns of magical paper illuminated the vast space with a soft amber glow. The scent of aged wines and exotic meats filled the air. Musicians played string instruments that produced melodies that seemed to vibrate in the soul.

  Isaac walked among the nobility, his posture erect and confident. No one questioned him. He was just another masked noble in the crowd.

  He located the bar, carved from a single piece of volcanic crystal.

  "Fire-Distilled Whiskey, double," Isaac ordered, deepening his voice slightly.

  With the glass in hand, he leaned against a pillar, his eyes scanning the hall from behind the mask. He used his Sight subtly, just enough to identify energy signatures without triggering the palace sensors. He was looking for Yamato.

  Suddenly, the music stopped. The murmur of the crowd ceased.

  The guests parted quickly, creating a wide corridor down the center of the hall. The atmosphere grew heavy—not with oppression, but with absolute reverence.

  Yamato, the Overlord, entered.

  He wore no mask. His presence was that of a calm sun. Beside him, Sasaki, his wife, radiated elegance and contained power.

  Everyone in the hall, without exception, knelt. Isaac, maintaining his disguise, bowed respectfully, blending into the mass.

  "Rise, my friends," Yamato’s voice echoed, deep and welcoming.

  Everyone stood up.

  "I want to thank everyone for their presence tonight," Yamato continued, holding Sasaki’s hand. He smiled, the genuine smile of someone who had found peace at the top of the world. "Sasaki and I are very happy to celebrate another year of union. In times of uncertainty, family is our fortress. Thank you all, and enjoy the party."

  A round of applause erupted, echoing off the stone walls. Yamato and Sasaki descended the steps, greeting generals and elders, moving with the grace of apex predators at rest.

  Isaac took a sip of his drink, watching the King of Dragons. He looks happy, Isaac thought.

  He began to walk, keeping a safe distance, following the flow of royalty.

  Then, he saw them.

  Coming out of a private antechamber, right behind Yamato, walked Ryujiro and Aiko.

  Isaac stopped. He felt a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with broken ribs.

  He retreated to the bar, sitting on a stool that offered a direct but discreet view. He ordered another drink.

  He watched Aiko. She was stunning in a ceremonial gown, but there was something in her eyes. While Ryujiro smiled and shook hands, exuding arrogance and vitality, Aiko seemed distant. Pensive. Her eyes swept the hall as if looking for something she knew wasn't there.

  The guests formed a line to greet the second most powerful couple in Valoon.

  Ryujiro, with a broad grin, raised his hands, calling for silence. The music lowered again.

  "Wait, wait!" Ryujiro bellowed, his voice full of pride. He wrapped his arm around Aiko’s waist, pulling her close. "I have news to share with you all on this blessed night."

  He looked at Yamato, who nodded with a paternal smile.

  "Our Overlord Yamato has given his blessing..." Ryujiro raised his goblet high. "Soon, I will be a Father!"

  The hall exploded in cheers and applause. Dragons stomped their feet, making the floor tremble in celebration.

  "A toast to me and my wife Aiko! A toast to our King!"

  In the midst of the euphoria, Isaac saw Aiko’s expression. She smiled, but it was a trained, polite smile. For a split second, her gaze crossed the room, passing exactly over where Isaac sat. She couldn't see him—not with the amulet and the mask—but she hesitated, as if she felt a ghost.

  Isaac turned slowly on the stool, putting his back to the scene.

  The past was dead. That life, that possibility, was gone. He was an outsider, a king without a throne, a man on a suicide mission. She belonged to another world now.

  He looked at the amber liquid in his glass.

  He raised the glass slightly, a silent, solitary toast to the reflection in the crystal.

  "Be happy..." he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Goodbye, Aiko."

  He downed the drink in one go, feeling the fire burn his throat, and set the empty glass on the counter with a dull thud.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Without looking back, Isaac adjusted his mask and walked toward the shadows of the exit.

  The Royal Balcony

  Isaac moved through the shadows of the antechamber. He watched as Yamato, the massive Dragon King, laughed with a group of generals on the balcony. He waited, patient as stone, until the guests bowed and left.

  Isaac stepped out, silently closing the glass doors behind him to block the noise of the party. The wind at this altitude was cold and sharp.

  Yamato was leaning on the railing, looking at the stars, his back to the door.

  "It’s been a long time, old friend," Isaac said.

  Yamato’s shoulders stiffened. The King turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the masked figure in the Haruto costume.

  "Who are you?" Yamato’s voice rumbled like distant thunder. "That voice..."

  "It’s me."

  Isaac reached up and unclasped the dragon mask. He lowered it, revealing his face—unmistakable.

  Yamato’s eyes went wide. He looked at the glass doors, signaling with a subtle hand gesture for his elite guards to lock the perimeter and let no one in.

  "Isaac..." Yamato breathed. "You crazy bastard."

  "Nice party," Isaac smirked, leaning against the stone wall. "A bit loud for my taste, though."

  Yamato crossed the distance in two strides and pulled Isaac into a bone-crushing hug.

  "I thought you were dead," Yamato whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back, gripping Isaac’s shoulders. "We all did. What are you doing here? Did you come to see Aiko?"

  "No," Isaac said softly, looking away. "I saw her. She looks happy. I didn't come to ruin that."

  He walked to the railing, looking out over the glittering city of Valoon below.

  "I need help, Yamato."

  "With what?"

  "You once told me a story," Isaac began, his voice serious. "About a weapon capable of destroying anything. Hidden in a place only you had the key to. If the rumors about the Entity War are true... I need that weapon."

  Yamato stared at him. Then, a low, dry chuckle escaped his throat.

  "You always did listen to my drunken ramblings." Yamato’s smile faded. "Yes. It exists. The God-Killer."

  "Give me the key, Yamato."

  The Dragon King sighed, a heavy sound that seemed to carry the weight of centuries. He leaned on the railing, looking defeated.

  "I can't."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I don't have it anymore, Isaac." Yamato gripped the stone railing until it cracked. "My vault was breached three days ago."

  Isaac froze. "Breached? Here? In the Dragon Peak?"

  "Someone blew the vault door off its hinges," Yamato growled. "Killed four of my best Elite Guards instantly. They didn't stand a chance. The box containing the key is gone."

  "Who?" Isaac demanded. "Who is strong enough to do that?"

  Yamato looked at Isaac, his eyes filled with a grim warning.

  "Jin."

  The name hit Isaac like a physical blow. He lowered his head, a chill running down his spine.

  "Jin..." Isaac whispered. "He's alive?"

  "And stronger than ever," Yamato confirmed. "He has had 120 years to perfect his arts, Isaac. He is a monster now. A calamity walking on two legs."

  "Where is he?"

  "My scouts tracked his energy signature to the Crystal Caves," Yamato said. "None of them came back."

  "I have to go there," Isaac said instantly. "I need that weapon. But more importantly... if Jin gets his hands on a God-Killer... the world is over."

  "Be careful, son," Yamato warned, placing a hand on Isaac's shoulder. "He isn't the rival you remember. He is something else entirely."

  "I know. Where does the key lead? Where is the weapon?"

  "We tracked the years ago," Yamato explained. "They lead to Verdantia."

  "The Poison Lands," Isaac groaned. "Fantastic."

  "It is an independent territory now," Yamato added. "Ruled by a Lunatic Queen. No one knows her name, That is where the trail ends."

  Inside the Hall

  "Mother, where is Father?" Aiko asked, scanning the room. Ryujiro stood beside her, slightly tipsy but happy.

  Sasaki smiled, swirling her wine. "He's on the balcony, dear. Probably getting some fresh air. Why?"

  "Ryu wants to talk to him about... us having children,".

  "Well, I should be there for that," Sasaki laughed. "Let's go."

  The Balcony

  "What will you do after you get the weapon?" Yamato asked.

  "I'm going back to Olympia," Isaac said, his gaze steel. "I'm gathering an army. I'm taking my home back."

  Yamato looked at him, pride swelling in his chest.

  "Then I will come with you."

  Isaac blinked. "What?"

  "Once you find the weapon, come back here," Yamato declared. "I will march with you. The Dragon Legions will fly under your banner."

  "I thought you were neutral?" Isaac smiled.

  "Bah," Yamato waved his hand. "You know I hate those Elves in the Council. But you... you aren't an Elf. You are family."

  Yamato extended his hand. Isaac took it. They clasped forearms—a warrior's pact.

  "Bring victory home, son," Yamato whispered, pulling him into another embrace. "Be strong."

  "Thank you, Yamato."

  Click.

  The glass doors slid open.

  "Father?" Aiko’s voice rang out. "Who are you hugging?"

  "Indeed," Sasaki added, amused. "That is a rare sight."

  Isaac’s heart stopped.

  He spun around instantly, keeping his back to them. He quickly pulled the mask back onto his face, his hands trembling slightly.

  Yamato froze. He looked at his wife, his daughter, and his son-in-law standing there, confused.

  "Yamato... who is that?" Sasaki asked, stepping closer.

  Aiko frowned. She tilted her head, sniffing the air.

  "That smell..." she murmured. "It's... nothing. He smells like empty space."

  Yamato cleared his throat, stepping between Isaac and his family.

  "Ah... yes. This is an old friend. His name is... Hook."

  "Hook?" Sasaki raised an eyebrow.

  "Yes! He is a... traveling merchant," Yamato improvised badly. "Very successful. Sold me some excellent wine."

  Ryujiro stepped forward, puffing out his chest.

  "Well, if he is a friend of the King, he is a friend of mine."

  Ryu walked up to Isaac’s back, extending a hand.

  "I am Ryujiro. Future Overlord. Pleasure to meet you, Master Hook."

  Isaac didn't turn. He couldn't. If he looked at Aiko now, he would break.

  "Don't be shy, Hook," Yamato laughed nervously. "Shake the man's hand."

  Isaac took a deep breath. He kept his head lowered, staring at the floor, and turned just enough to grasp Ryu’s hand.

  Ryu gripped it firmly. But then, he frowned.

  He felt the calluses. The specific hardening of the skin on the index finger and palm. These weren't the soft hands of a merchant. These were the hands of a swordsman who had killed thousands.

  And the grip... it was like steel.

  Ryu’s instincts flared. Assassin.

  "Who are you?" Ryu whispered dangerously.

  He yanked his hand back and drew his sword in a blur of motion.

  "GUARDS!"

  The Elite Guards on the perimeter drew their spears instantly, aiming at Isaac.

  "Ryu! Stop!" Yamato shouted.

  "He is lying!" Ryu roared, pointing his blade at Isaac’s throat. "Look at his stance! Look at his hands! That is no merchant! That is a killer!"

  Isaac slowly raised his hands in surrender, his eyes locked on Yamato.

  But Aiko was staring at him.

  She wasn't looking at his hands. She was looking at his posture. The way he tilted his head slightly to the left when cornered. The way his shoulders set.

  A memory flashed in her mind. A memory of a man standing in that exact pose, training in the courtyard.

  Her breath hitched. Her heart began to hammer against her ribs.

  Tears welled in her eyes, unbidden. She fell to her knees, overwhelmed by a feeling she thought was impossible.

  "Aiko?" Ryu turned, distracted. "Darling, what’s wrong?"

  He glared back at Isaac, fury burning in his eyes.

  "What did you do to her?" Ryu shouted, stepping closer to Isaac. "Why is she crying? Did you cast a spell on her?"

  "I did nothing, Lord Ryujiro," Isaac said calmly.

  The voice.

  Even distorted by the mask, the cadence was the same.

  Sasaki gasped, covering her mouth. She looked from Isaac to Yamato, realization dawning in her eyes. It can't be.

  "Speak!" Ryu demanded, pressing the blade tip against Isaac’s chest armor. "Who are you? What do you want here?"

  "Like the Overlord said," Isaac replied, his voice steady. "I am just a friend. A merchant. I have done nothing but stand here."

  The tension was razor-thin. Ryu was seconds away from striking.

  "ENOUGH!"

  Aiko’s voice cracked through the air like a whip.

  She stood up, wiping her tears. She walked past Ryu, ignoring him completely, and stood directly in front of Isaac.

  They looked at each other. Mask to eyes.

  "Put the weapon down, Ryu," she commanded, her voice shaking but firm.

  "But Aiko—"

  "I said put it down!"

  Ryu hesitated, confused and hurt, but he sheathed his sword. He stepped back, watching his wife stare at this stranger.

  Aiko took a deep breath. She composed herself, forcing the mask of royalty back onto her face, though her eyes were red.

  "From here on," Aiko announced, her voice echoing in the silence, "I will conclude my Father's negotiations."

  "What?" Ryu blinked. "Negotiations? With a merchant?"

  "Yes," Aiko said, never breaking eye contact with Isaac. "There are... specific terms... regarding his wares that only I can handle."

  She turned to her father.

  "Do I have your permission, Overlord?"

  Yamato looked at his daughter. He saw the pain and the strength in her eyes. He nodded slowly.

  "You have my permission."

  Aiko turned to the guards.

  "Escort Master... Hook... to the Private Council Room. I will join him in one minute."

  The guards hesitated, then bowed. They surrounded Isaac and marched him off the balcony.

  As he passed her, time seemed to slow. Isaac didn't look back, but Aiko watched him until he disappeared into the hall.

  Ryu stepped forward. "I’m coming with you."

  "No," Yamato boomed.

  Ryu stopped, shocked.

  "Let her do this alone, Ryujiro," Yamato said gently but with absolute authority. "It is family business."

  Ryu stood there, baffled, as Aiko walked away, her head held high.

  Sasaki walked up to Yamato, sliding her arm through his. She leaned her head on his shoulder, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

  "Hook?" she whispered.

  "It was the best I could come up with on short notice," Yamato grumbled.

  "Terrible," she laughed softly, a tear sliding down her cheek. "Absolutely terrible."