As the dust of their latest clash settled within the ancient, shadowed cave, the walls still hummed with residual magic and kinetic force. The once-untamed Veldora, now in his towering human form with golden hair and sharp tanned features, sat cross-legged across from Varvatos. Despite his carefree nature, the battle had sobered something in him. For the first time in centuries, the Storm Dragon had felt challenged—truly pushed.
He exhaled slowly, arms resting on his knees, eyes narrowed in thought. Finally, he broke the silence.
"So," Veldora asked, voice low but curious, "what now? What are your plans, Varvatos?"
The demon lord didn't answer at first. He stared out over the vast expanse of trees, the Jura Forest sprawling out beneath the twilight sky, wild and untouched. Then he turned his gaze toward Veldora, his expression calm but resolute.
"I don't plan to conquer this world, Veldora," he said quietly. "I plan to understand it. And if need be... reshape it."
He stepped forward, conjuring a small orb of radiant magic in his palm—an intricate weave of runes and otherworldly energy, unlike anything the Voice of the World had ever classified.
"The systems here—Skills, Evolution, even the Voice itself—are fascinating. But they're still rules. And rules… can be bent. Broken. Rewritten."
The orb in his hand dissolved into mist, carried off by the wind.
"I also intend to build a kingdom," he added, eyes narrowing with ambition. "Not just any kingdom—but one that surpasses every empire and dominion that exists in this world. A sanctuary for the misunderstood, a beacon for those who seek freedom… and a weapon for when the world tries to suppress them."
Veldora blinked, then chuckled—deep, amused, and somewhat impressed.
"A kingdom, huh?" He stood up, stretching his limbs. "You really do dream big. But you'll need land. Allies. Protection."
The Storm Dragon turned, arms crossed over his chest, golden hair catching the moonlight.
"Lucky for you… this entire forest? The Jura Forest? It's mine. My territory."
He smirked proudly.
"No one dares enter without my permission. Even the surrounding nations fear what lies deep within it."
He then gestured with both hands toward the wilderness beyond.
"If you're serious about your plans, you can use this land. Build your kingdom here. Just don't bore me."
Varvatos chuckled, then gave a slight bow—not out of submission, but in respect.
"Then it's settled. This forest will be the heart of something new. Not just a kingdom—a realm beyond fate."
Their eyes met. For the first time, the Storm Dragon and the Demon Lord shared something deeper than rivalry or power: a shared vision.
And so, beneath the ancient boughs of the Jura Forest, a silent pact was forged—one that would echo through history.
The kingdom had no name yet, but destiny had already begun writing its legend.
Varvatos stood silently, the wind weaving through his dark hair, eyes still fixed on the stars above the Jura Forest. The air around him pulsed with a quiet power, as if the world itself was bracing for what came next.
"But first," he said suddenly, his voice carrying a weight that made even the wind pause, "you mentioned there are Demon Lords in this world."
He turned to Veldora, who was now sitting atop a boulder, arms resting over his knees, still basking in the thrill of battle.
"You said three of them stand above the rest, the strongest among their kind," Varvatos continued. "Well then... I think my first step will be to pay them a visit. It's time they understood—there's a new power in this world. And they'd best learn to behave."
At that, Veldora burst into laughter—not once, but his signature three-stage maniacal laugh—echoing through the cave like a thunderclap.
"Fwahahahaha! Fuhuhuhuhu! Fuhahahahahaha! You're a dangerous one, Varvatos! Very interesting indeed!" He grinned, practically bouncing on the rock. "I already know I'm going to have a lot of fun staying with you!"
Varvatos simply chuckled, the corners of his lips curling upward in amusement.
"So tell me," he asked, adjusting his cloak with a flick of his hand, "where does the strongest of these Demon Lords reside?"
Veldora stretched, scratching the back of his head.
"That would be Guy Crimson, the Primordial Demon. He lives far to the north, in the Ice Continent. But, uh… he's not alone." Veldora's tone faltered ever so slightly. "He shares that frozen hell with my sister... Velzard."
A pause.
Varvatos raised a brow. "Your sister?"
"Yeah…" Veldora said quickly, looking away with an awkward laugh. "She's… intense. Not someone I'd want to annoy if I can help it. So, uh—I'll be waiting here when you get back!"
Varvatos tilted his head, amused by the sudden change in the dragon's bravado. He smirked.
"So be it," he murmured, turning his gaze to the distant northern horizon, already envisioning the frozen lands where an ancient force waited.
Without another word, he stepped forward—and with a whisper of mana, the space around him twisted. His figure blurred into light, and then… he was gone.
The cave fell silent once more, save for Veldora who sat there, arms folded, looking up at the ceiling.
"Yep… I'll just wait here. No need to get frozen solid by Velzard today…" he muttered, shivering slightly at the thought.
And thus, the winds began to shift—toward the Ice Continent, where destiny stirred and the Primordial Demon Lord Guy Crimson would soon come face-to-face with the one who defied fate itself: Varvatos.