Timeless Assassin

Chapter 1091: The Rowdy Dragons

(Meanwhile, Planet Draconia, Within Moltherak’s Royal Court)

In the weeks following Moltherak’s return from his clash against the other Gods, the dragon court had grown even more brazen and primordial than before, as whatever thin restraint had once existed within its halls now seemed to have completely vanished.

The dragons gathered within no longer made even the slightest effort to mimic civility, as they sprawled openly across the chamber while feasting on half-cooked carcasses, drinking blood-wine in excess, and roaring their approval or displeasure without regard for order.

As the atmosphere felt heavier now.....

Wilder.

As though the court itself had reverted into something closer to its ancient roots, where strength alone dictated value, and where cruelty was not hidden behind ceremony, but rather displayed openly as a form of entertainment.

Today, in the center of that chaos stood a single human entertainer, trembling as he sang before the court, his voice cracking despite his desperate attempts to remain composed, as he understood all too well that his performance was not being judged for art, but for survival.

The song itself was meaningless to the dragons.

It was not the melody they wanted, nor the pitch that felt inherently pleasing to their ears.

And yet, they led him on, encouraging him from time to time, only to pull the rug from under him and suddenly changing that encouragement into heckling, as they tried to throw his rhythm off.

"Sing louder or I’ll kill you!"

"What is this nonsense? Don’t you know any songs that praise the king? Sing those!"

"Your voice hurts my ears... shut up!"

The dragons jeered from all sides, their voices overlapping in a chaotic chorus of mockery and threat, as the trembling human struggled to keep his voice steady while forcing the final verse out of his throat.

For the dragons, this was never about music.

It was about control.

About the thrill of deciding whether a lesser being would walk out alive, or be reduced to ash for their amusement, as whistles, laughter, and cruel taunts echoed through the chamber without restraint.

At the far end of the chamber, seated upon a throne carved from bones, Moltherak watched the performance with an unreadable look on his face, his massive frame leaning slightly to one side while his golden eyes remained fixed on the human like a predator watching a trapped animal.

Then, once the song was over, the chamber quieted just enough for him to render judgment.

His now scaly hand rose slowly into the air.

The court held its breath.

Then Moltherak extended his thumb upward.

The reaction from the dragons was immediate, as the entire court broke into loud, contemptuous boos, hissing and snarling in theatrical outrage while several dragons slapped their tails against the stone floor in protest, making the chamber tremble faintly from the force of it.

Moltherak smiled.

Then he lowered his thumb.

And just like that, the mood of the court flipped entirely, as the same dragons who had booed a second before now erupted into cheers, roaring with savage delight while claws scraped against stone and wings flared wide in celebration.

That was the signal.

Dozens of dragons inhaled at once, their enormous chests swelling as heat built visibly behind their throats, before a wall of dragonfire descended upon the poor human in the center of the chamber, reducing him to ash so quickly that his scream barely had time to form.

*FWOOSH*

Within an instant the human was gone, leaving behind only the delighted laughter of beasts who found genuine joy in cruelty, as Moltherak himself let out a satisfied grunt before shifting slightly on his throne.

"Send in the next entertainer," he said, his tone casual, as though he had merely finished tasting a forgettable snack rather than ordering a man’s death for sport, as the court door opened for an instant.

*Creek*

The crowd expected another entertainer to walk in, however, in place of another doomed performer, a court messenger entered instead, as the mood changed at once.

The rowdy noise of the chamber dulled, as even the most barbaric among the dragons understood that a dragon court messenger needed to be heard with respect, as the newcomer advanced steadily through the center of the hall before dropping to one knee, his head lowered respectfully as the heat of the chamber and the weight of countless eyes settled over him.

"Kratos," Moltherak said, his gaze sharpening faintly, "what news do you bring from the front lines? Have we conquered Planet Ekstar, or have we failed?"

He asked, as Kratos bowed his head deeper.

"My lord, was failure ever an option under your command?" he said, his voice carrying the confidence of a man who knew the answer would please the court.

"Of course we won. Planet Ekstar has been taken away from the Ru Clan and is now a part of your glorious Dragon Empire."

For a brief second, the court remained frozen.

Then it exploded.

Roars shook the chamber from end to end as dragons slammed fists, tails, and weapons against the stone in triumph, while several of the younger ones spread their wings and bellowed so loudly that dust rained from the ceiling above.

Moltherak nodded slowly from his throne, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he listened to the celebration unfold before him, the sound of victory clearly pleasing him more than the pathetic death of the human singer ever could.

"Very good," Moltherak said, once the noise had subsided enough for his voice to carry. "Tell the men who fought on Ekstar that there will be a massive feast organized for them when they return to Draconia. Tell them I am proud of them."

That declaration sent the room into celebration once more, as the promise of feast, reward, and royal recognition only elevated the victory in the eyes of those gathered, while Kratos remained bowed with satisfaction written plainly across his face.

Soon after, the court began breaking into smaller conversations, as groups of dragons leaned toward one another and spoke with growing confidence, their voices thick with the arrogance that had returned to them ever since Moltherak reclaimed his throne.

"These human-occupied planets are far easier to conquer than I expected," one courtier said, his jaws curling into something between a grin and a sneer. "Once you take out their aircraft and their anti-dragon missiles, the rest of them fight like frightened cattle."

Another nodded in agreement, as he dug a claw into the armrest of his seat while speaking with utter conviction. "Exactly. Strip away the machines and the technology, and what remains is weak flesh. We can tear through them, burn through them, and eat them alive if we wish."

A third dragon leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with savage excitement. "Once our own technology develops further, and once the King’s campaigns continue at this pace, we will become the rulers of the universe again. I do not doubt it for even a second."

"Of course we will," another replied immediately, raising his cup high into the air. "Our true king has returned. Under Lord Moltherak, the dragons will spread their wings again."

That sentiment spread quickly across the room, repeated in one form or another by nearly every dragon present, as what had once only been cautious hope had now transformed into belief.

And belief, in the hands of creatures like these, was a dangerous thing.

After all, it had only been a few months since Moltherak’s return.

And yet, in that short span of time, the dragons had already captured six planets, maintaining an average conquest rate of one planet every month, which had filled the remnants of their race with more momentum than they had felt in millennia.

The surviving dragons now believed the age of decline was ending.

They believed the old humiliation was being washed away with blood and fire.

They believed that the winds of change were once again gathering beneath their wings.

And as a result, they were beginning to dream about universal domination again.