Dragon Soilder の小説・ストーリー

She glided lightly over the ground, her magic both elegant and devastating. On the far flank, Oscar, the second son of the King of Dreadmoor — a mountain of a man — slammed his fists into the ground. The earth split beneath the Dark Knights’ feet, jagged pillars of stone erupting to trap and crush. His dark armour gleamed, his black eyes blazing with controlled rage “Try getting through this, you bastards!” he growled.

Sophia swallowed as she stepped forward. “Who are you?” The dragon, now a man, stared at her with his dragon eyes. “You have no recollection of what happened, do you?” When Sophia didn’t answer, he huffed indignantly. “No wonder,” he sighed. “I am Jarus, King of the Dragonae Kingdom. I am a good friend of Elijah Trueblade… and yours.” ~O~O~O~ “K-King,” Jennifer stuttered. “Relax, Jenny,” Sophia whispered without taking her eyes off the dragon. “He will not harm us.”

His hair on one side of his head was sticking straight up where he had slept on the other side, in two soft, stubborn curls that did not match the rest of him at all. "Who are you?" he said. His voice was lower than I expected. It sounded unused, rough at the edges. "Who are you?" I said back, because I could not think of anything else to say. He looked at me for a moment. His eyes did not move from mine. "I am the Dragon King," he said. The world seemed to stop. Gold lay under me. Dawn cut a thin yellow line across the mouth of the hoard where the dragon's head had been. I remembered the chains, the yellow eye, the wounded man in the corridor with the bloody knife and the slow, easy breath

The robot’s chest plate began to drip, molten metal falling to the floor with sizzling plops. “Clear visual!” Willz yelled. Mello, finally finished, held up his sketchbook. He had drawn not a bazooka, but a long, wicked-looking katana with a serrated edge. “I hear you, brother!” Bryan, his energy clearly flagging, gasped out, “Make the final move!” Willz’s scythe appeared in his hands in a swirl of shadow. Mello’s drawing glowed, and the katana materialized before him, dropping into his grip.

Vulcan and Anala, who had just arrived, gasped at the tribute given by Radcliff and Newton to the figure of a young boy who had black hair and red eyes. “It’s him, Vulcan!” shouted Anala while gasping. “I, Draco Black, the last Dragon Prince is willing to take your oath of allegiance, the Fire Salamander-incarnate Radcliff. Let's fight to awaken the dragons and protect Magica from harm,” Draco replied with an aura of majesty and graceful charisma.

The battle wasn't over yet. Two dragons tumbled from the roof onto the landing he and his team were ona gray one and a white one, one of the Silva dragons and the one called Piper. The Silva had a grip on Piper's silvery-white neck. "Eyes and torso!" he ordered his team. "Watch fire!" He raised his AR-15 rifle, taking careful aim for the Brazilian dragon's head, and fired again and again with marksman-like precision. The rest of the team did likewise, firing pure iron rounds into its abdomen.

He loomed over me, his long figure blocking the faint light above, casting a dark shadow over his face. I couldn't make out his features, but his hot breath made my skin crawl with dread. “Hello, little Sarah,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. His words echoed off the cold walls of the cave. “You don't know me but I've heard so much about you. And I've been waiting for this moment. My name is Drako. And you, my dear, are going to make me immortal and powerful.” Drako? Why does the name sound familiar?

I was the lowest-born black serpent in the Serpent Clan, yet the Dragon Court's most honored crown prince chose me as his bride. He gave up his betrothal to my sister, surrendered his place as heir, and walked away from the Dragon Court for me. I was moved beyond words and became his wife. But after I gave birth to only a black serpent, he flew into a rage. He crushed our baby beneath his foot, then killed me with a single strike of his sword. As I was dying, I saw hatred burning in his eyes. "If I'd known you were this useless, I should've married your sister!" Only then did I learn the truth. I was the woman of fate named in the Dragon Court's forbidden book, the one born with primord

The gash in his side ripped open again, blood soaking fresh bandages, but he didn’t stop. Sera stumbled back, stunned—not because he moved, but because she realized she might not be able to stop him. There was nothing in his eyes now but pure, unyielding fire. He crossed half the distance to Lioren in three ragged steps, chest heaving, hands curled like claws. His mouth twisted with something wild. The warlord was gone—this was the dragon. “Rhazien!” she shouted, throwing herself into his path. He barreled into her. She wasn’t ready. The force of it knocked her back a step, almost to her knees.

"General Chava, aren't you blowing this out of proportion? We're talking about a mere commander from Biskeland. With our ranks filled with warriors of God of War caliber, are we really worried about taking down Pendragon's top dog?" No sooner had he finished speaking than an intense aura of menace radiated from him, sending a shiver through the room as if the temperature had just dropped. Another shadowy figure, Fly Drakon, radiating a deadly aura, strode into the room and declared in an icy voice, "Absolutely! With all of us elite God of War warriors teaming up, how could we not take down King Pendragon? The moment King Pendragon dares to step forward, he'll meet his end at the edge of my F