“Pain!” Screamed Whitefire´s body, even before colliding with the wall. When said action happened, he almost lost his senses but deliriousness overtook him instead, due to the huge amount of damage to his body caused by that fatal blow, empowered by the vital liquid. It had left him on the edge of death.

The crimson dragon kept walking towards his opponent, ready to finish him off. However, against all his expectations, it wouldn’t be that easy. The prince got back on his two feet and took a boxing position. The only difference was that he wasn’t jumping constantly.

The world had gone crazy. He looked at the crowd, only to find his father, replicated a thousand times, replacing every dragon who once stood there, and their cheers with silence. They stared at him, with harsh expression on their faces. Those looks penetrated on him like knifes into butter, bringing mental pain alongside them. Shock made itself visible in his face, along with fear, while adding themselves into his mind, which mixed into a rotten emotional state.

When he locked his vision on Bloodscales he remembered what he was there for: for slaying that bloodthirsty menace to the world, so he could achieve the throne instead, ensuring peace.

He stood his ground, predicting Lance's next attack, it didn’t take him long to see it. The enemy tried to strike with its tail as predicted, which went straight ahead for his stomach. Thanks to his reflexes he managed to catch it airborne, but, it disappeared, like a mirage. Only after he looked forward once more he noticed that his opponent was still on his way, his pace remaining the same. The white dragon's regeneration had healed his body, but not his mental state, which was creating worse hallucinations than those which originate from smoking weed.

“Pathetic.” Were the words spoken by every creature present, followed by: “Are you truly king Flamepath's successor?”

His multiplied father spoke “my” instead of “king Flamepath's” but the rest of the phrase remained the same in all tongues.

A long pause was made by everyone, the crimson dragon stopped dead in his tracks and his foe remained motionless.

Suddenly he made himself be heard.

“I will overcome you!” Is everything he replied yelling before charging, his mind already set.

He just kept running mindlessly, until another blow reached him, this time with the left, still empowered, fist.

The previous events repeated themselves, the high dragon cracked the wall even more. Still, before long he was already on his feet, his body working miracles to get him back up.

The illusions all remained there, but, there was a new one, next to the blood-splashed warrior. It was his father once more, that green dragon with a yellow line defining his front side, that old yet powerful face, not showing any kind of feelings, those emerald scales which were often confused for the real gem.

Both his foes made a step onward, then another, and another one, the feet dusting the ground with their heavy step. Once in range, both of them threw a punch. The white dragon used his arms and placed them in front of his face in a vertical position to block the attack of the only living being in the battle. The single blow immediately became a flurry of hits, trying to break through the flesh armour.

Meanwhile, the phantasm made a punch of his own, which didn’t make any damage, it just passed harmlessly through his face. At the very same time that harmless attack reached the white skin he lost his concentration and looked at the spot which, supposedly, had been hit. The other dragon took his chance and managed to break the shield. The defending one lowered his arms in pain and tried to back away but his enemy was too fast, managing to hit his face several times, sending him to the ground.

Oxygen was inhaled and exhaled aggressively through his nostrils, a small blue flame noticeable when the latter happened.

The floor then felt very sandy and soft, it cleared a path for his body to be buried inside.

He tried to move but to no avail, his bones were still broken and the pain deprived him of movement, so the sand proceeded to softly carry his body beneath her. Strangely enough, he could still breathe down there.

As his bottomless bed dragged him further and further away from the surface, his thoughts followed along.

“So… is this it? Will I spend the rest of my life in here?”

His question was answered really fast, for a set of claws made itself visible from the surface of the sand pool, green was its colour. It grew longer than what physics would allow and grabbed him from a shoulder, his left one.

He was pulled up all the way out of that soft tomb, once in the outside he felt another grip in his right shoulder. When he looked at that second limb the first thing that caught his attention was the blood running down it, which was retrieved by a tail, growing thicker, stronger and sharper after such action.

His body had already healed but he still couldn’t move, his thoughts were a complete fuzz, he barely managed to acknowledge his situation. He looked at the sky, it was all grey and still, no raindrop fell. Lightings only reached the ground, striking in the distance and in his surroundings. Each of them induced fear to the broken-minded prince, fear of being hit directly, and pain, pain to his ears due to their sound. The closer they stroke the worst it was.

Both opposing dragons punched him in the face, one affecting him physically while the other just mentaly. They made him fall completely again. Another blow was about to be sent by them, this time though, different from each other. A normal punch from his father while his material enemy decided to pin its sharp extremity in the middle of the right claws, pining and disabling them.

For a second he weighted his options and tried to stop the tail, he clutched it from both of its sides and held it in place. He succeeded on stopping it, until the ghost's fist stroke. He lost his strength right there and then and the enemy managed to fulfil his target, the blood leaking from the appendage securing its position as his limb drained it all.

Lance was already sure of his victory, he went straight for the head without considering the other, free, limbs. Such action was mirrored by Flamepath.

“I said that…” The prince unexpectedly started talking, stopping his attackers.

“I will…” He clenched his left fist. Knowing that he could move it freely without his enemy acknowledging it he continued.

“Overcome you!” A scream, louder than what any dragon had ever heard erupted from within him, reaching the ears of everyone in a radius of five kilometres, as he slashed with his free limb in front of him, to a different foe this time.

Instead of going after Bloodscales, his father's neck was his choice, making his head roll in the ground. All events that only he could see. A blue glow, with the same shade the ocean acquires when above deep waters and making a small trail of itself, displayed itself in the tips of his claws when performing such action.

His opponent was dumbfounded again. Ignoring that new glow, he just stared at the one he was fighting, which had apparently lost its mind due to the beating.

“Are you suffering that much?” Spoke the dominant dragon, mocking his crazy opponent.

“Not anymore.” Was the only reply he received, before his opponent grasped the limb that was pinning down its right hand. It was different to his body, it looked like several rocks had been glued together, with some distance between each other, displaying blood running through those gaps.

“What are you trying to do? My tail is stronger than any metal or gem as it is, and now it is empowered by my blood. It’s impossible for you to either disentomb it or cut it off.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about the latter.”

Without any further wait his grasp became much stronger and the same blue glow from before displayed itself once more in the tip of every one of his claws. His foe felt something he never had, something no dragon had, in their whole lives, heat. His buried limb was burning hotter than lava itself and probably at a degree close to the sun.

While screaming in pain he retrieved his tail immediately, or at least, what was left of it.

When he looked at it to see the damage he was astounded. The tip of what used to be his pride and joy was gone, alongside a small part of its base. He grabbed the new end of it and screamed once more, this time, in fear and sadness. Both were new to him as well, and they were terrifying, his mind was fully under their control. Logic, reason, killing intent, they were all gone. His thoughts were set only on his loss, only in feeling sorry. After some time, instead of going away, they endured, greater than ever before. It wasn’t just sorrow nor terror anymore, it was bigger, it filled him completely, it clouded his thoughts…

It was depression.

The prince, however, didn’t pay no mind to his now decayed enemy's feelings, he just positioned in front of him and, with the same fire in his claws, slashed his chest, killing him in the worst moment of his life.

The blood splashed on his face and body and he started to breath heavily as his adrenaline abandoned him.

The liquid on him was bright red, like rubies. It was pretty, if you ignored where it came from of course.

A massive cheer suddenly erupted from the crowd. Most dragons just praised verbally, but some even started to breathe fire to the sky in joy. The newly elected king didn’t acknowledge them though, he had accomplished something far more important than what his plan initially was, the praise he was receiving wasn’t important to him. He overcame his father.

He didn’t wash himself up, he didn’t ask for rest neither for food, he just left the place flying, his destination, the castle. Where the congress would take place. He just wanted to get everything done.

Author's Note

This was a fun chapter to write for me. Yay! Extra points if you guess why.

And as always, would appreciate criticism on this, Im reading to improve but I would like as much help as possible.