The Grand Hall of Aetheria pulsed with a rhythmic, anxious energy as the Class Awakening Ceremony reached its peak. Thousands of students stood in disciplined rows, their eyes fixed on the crystalline pillar at the center of the stage. This was the moment that would define their lives, separating the mundane laborers from the elite protectors of humanity. When my hand finally touched the cold surface of the pillar, the atmosphere shifted. A violent tremor shook the foundations of the city, and a pillar of light erupted from the stone. It wasn't the usual white or gold, but a blinding, 3S-rank iridescent brilliance that pierced through the ceiling and into the stratosphere. The silence that followed was absolute, heavy with the weight of expectation. Everyone waited for the announcement of a God-tier Warrior or a Saint-level Mage.
But as the light receded, the floating runes above my head solidified into a title that felt like a death sentence: "Dragontamer." The collective gasp of the crowd quickly soured into mocking laughter. A century had passed since the last dragon vanished from the skies, leaving the profession obsolete and powerless. "A 3S-rank waste!" sneered a classmate from the front row. To them, I was a king without a kingdom, a shepherd for a species that existed only in dusty history books. The principal looked at me with a mixture of pity and disappointment, his hands trembling as he clutched a dim, fossilized dragon crystal—a relic of a bygone era. He moved to usher me off the stage, but I felt a strange, magnetic pull toward the stone in his arms. It wasn't dead; it was dreaming, waiting for a spark.
I reached out, ignoring the jeers, and pressed my palm against the rough surface of the ancient crystal. In that heartbeat, the dim stone didn't just glow—it shattered into a million shards of pure energy. A roar, ancient and primal, erupted from the void, vibrating in the very marrow of my bones. The sky above the academy turned a deep, bruised purple as legendary skills, never before seen in the annals of history, began to manifest in golden script across the air. The mocking laughter died instantly, replaced by a suffocating pressure that forced the audience to their knees. The runes whispered secrets of blood and fire, revealing that I didn't just command beasts; I commanded the "Immortal War Spirit" of the dragon race. The principal’s eyes widened in terror as the ghost of a dragon’s wing flickered behind me.
The following dawn, I ignored the frantic calls from the Academy Board and headed straight for the "Forbidden Zone of Desolation." This was a place where even S-rank adventurers feared to tread, a graveyard of titans where the air was thick with the scent of ozone and ancient death. My footsteps echoed through the jagged canyons until I reached the Altar of the Nine Heavens. I drew a ceremonial dagger, slicing my palm to let the blood fall onto the scorched earth. My blood acted as a catalyst, a bridge between the living world and the slumbering souls of the ancients. As the crimson liquid seeped into the ground, the earth began to groan. "Awaken," I whispered in the long-forgotten Dragon Tongue. The ground cracked open, and pillars of fire erupted from the depths, signaling the return of the kings.
Suddenly, nine massive silhouettes tore through the clouds, their wingspans so vast they blotted out the midday sun. These weren't creatures of flesh and bone, but ethereal war spirits, clad in spectral armor and wreathed in elemental storms. Each dragon represented a different law of nature—fire, frost, lightning, and void. They circled above me, their golden eyes reflecting a loyalty that spanned millennia. The pressure they radiated was so intense that the monsters of the Forbidden Zone fled in a panicked frenzy. I climbed onto the back of the lead dragon, the Great Infernal Sovereign, and felt a surge of power that dwarfed anything the human mages could dream of. I wasn't just a tamer; I was the focal point of a forgotten godhood. The world was about to realize that dragons hadn't died out; they had simply been waiting for a worthy leader.
News of the Nine Dragons' return spread like wildfire, reaching the ears of the Continental Alliance. However, the neighboring Empire of Shadows saw this as a threat and mobilized their million-strong "Blight Army" to suppress me. They met me at the Plains of Eternity, a battlefield that had seen the fall of many heroes. The horizon was a sea of black steel and dark sorcery, a force designed to crush any individual resistance. The global broadcast cameras were rolling, capturing the image of a single young man standing against a tide of darkness. The commentators spoke of my impending doom, labeling my dragons as mere illusions. I looked down at the sprawling army, feeling no fear, only a cold, focused resolve. The War Spirits roared in unison, a sound that cracked the very sky.
As the million-strong army began their charge, the earth trembling under their boots, I stepped forward and began to chant. The Dragon Tongue wasn't just a language; it was the frequency of the universe itself. "I am the voice of the fallen, the breath of the storm, and the master of the eternal flame," I intoned. My voice, though soft, echoed across the entire battlefield, amplified by the spirits of the nine. The enemy’s spells fizzled out in mid-air, and their enchanted weapons shattered like glass. A wave of golden energy rippled outward from my position, turning the ground into a sanctuary where no evil could stand. The soldiers, once brave and bloodthirsty, began to retreat in a chaotic tide. They realized too late that they weren't fighting a man; they were fighting the accumulated wrath of a race that had once ruled the stars.
The enemy commanders tried to rally their troops, but the Nine Dragons descended like falling stars. With a single breath of frost, the right flank was turned into a garden of ice statues. A lash of lightning from the Storm Drake erased the heavy cavalry from existence. The "Immortal War Spirit" wasn't just a combat buff; it was a conceptual power that allowed me to rewrite the rules of the engagement. By the time the sun began to set, the million-strong army had vanished, leaving only the sound of the wind howling across the empty plains. I stood alone in the center of the devastation, my dragons coiling protectively around me. The broadcast went silent as the world watched in awe. The era of the mage and the warrior was over; the era of the Sovereign Dragontamer had truly begun.
In the aftermath, the world’s leaders scrambled to offer their allegiance. The academy that had mocked me now begged for my return, offering titles and riches beyond measure. But I had a different path. I looked up at the stars, realizing that the Nine Dragons were only the beginning. The "wildest power in the world" wasn't meant to be caged in a city or used for petty politics. It was meant to protect the world from the true horrors lurking in the deep void. My journey had only just started, and with the immortal spirits of the dragons at my side, I would ensure that the shadow of their wings would always be a symbol of hope, not fear. I had tamed the impossible, and in doing so, I had become the world’s ultimate shield.
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