The Princess And The Lord-Chapter 1410: The Rise of the Black Dragon

Evereth’s fury, long simmering beneath the surface, finally erupted with the cataclysmic force of a volcano tearing through the heart of the earth. It was no longer anger but wrath incarnate, ancient and uncontainable.

With a thunderous roar that shook the skies and shattered distant mountains, Evereth unleashed his full fury. The heavens darkened, thick with ash and smoke, as his molten breath scorched the world below.

He did not hesitate. He did not spare. Every human who dared to stand within his sight was reduced to ash in mere seconds, their screams swallowed by the roar of his inferno.

His dragon fire poured from his maw in relentless waves, burning hotter than the sun itself, igniting everything it touched with a fury that consumed even stone. The sky glowed red with reflected flame, casting a hellish light upon a world collapsing into ruin.

The ground cracked beneath the sheer intensity of the heat, molten veins breaking through the surface. Fields of green were instantly vaporized; trees burst into flame before they could fall; rivers hissed and boiled into nothingness.

Human bodies scattered on the ground, no longer recognizable, leaving only charcoal remnants, twisted and frozen in agony, their final moments etched into the air like ghosts of suffering.

The scent of death hung heavy and suffocating, a toxic mixture of burning flesh, seared earth, and despair. It clung to every breath, every gust of wind, every lingering shadow.

There was no mercy. No pause. No hope. Only Evereth, the living embodiment of annihilation, sweeps across the land like a divine reckoning, leaving nothing behind but silence and the stench of obliteration.

Fear clutched at every heart like an invisible vice, squeezing tighter with each passing second. Regret surged through the veins of the people like poison, and the weight of unspoken guilt pressed down on their souls. Panic gave way to chaos. Only now, with the world collapsing around them, did they truly comprehend the magnitude of their folly. The arrogance, the ignorance, the greed, they saw it all in retrospect, but far too late.

Desperation birthed blame. Voices rose in bitter fury, each tribe turning against the other. Fingers pointed in every direction except inward.

Denial and rage festered in equal measure. But the time for reconciliation had long passed. Their choices had invited ruin, not only upon themselves, but upon all who shared the land. Even the wild beasts, the creatures of the forest and fang, were powerless to stop the coming storm.

The Dragon that once was revered and admired, the one that used to have brilliant, shimmering azure scales that danced like liquid sky under the sun, now had darkened to a cold, abyssal black, polished like obsidian, void of all warmth.

His eyes, once gleaming pools of radiant gold, now burned with a deep crimson fury, like molten blood spilling from the core of a dying star. This was no longer the dragon they once revered.

Nazareth had descended into madness, and his rage would not discriminate. None would be spared.

Don’t know who started it, but they stopped calling him Evereth and called him Nazareth instead. Nazareth from the words ’Naer’ meaning darkness, and thus from then on he was called Nazareth.

His roar echoed across mountains, valleys, and oceans—a terrible sound that silenced even the bravest hearts. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of smoke and blood. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the scorched earth, and the sun itself seemed to dim in fear.

Humanity trembled beneath the weight of despair, their knees buckling before the storm of fire and fury. Hope was a distant memory, barely whispered in trembling prayers. They searched desperately for salvation, but found only ash and ruin. The gods were silent. The earth offered no refuge.

Just when all hope seemed lost—when despair had rooted itself deep in every soul, and the world teetered on the edge of annihilation—he appeared.

Through the smoke and shadow, emerging like a vision from the legends of old, came a man unlike any other. His hair shimmered with the hue of moonlit oceans, flowing like silver-blue silk in the wind. His purple eyes sparkle like stars in the night sky.

Each step he took upon the scorched and trembling earth brought with it an air of calm, momentary stillness, as though even time itself dared not move in his presence.

Meanwhile, behind him walked his loyal subordinates, warriors of great renown, each bearing the mark of extraordinary strength. Silent, composed, and unafraid, they followed their leader without question. But it was clear to all that only one stood at the center of this moment. He was the beacon. The beacon of hope reborn.

Without hesitation, he strode forward to face the nightmare that had broken the world—Nazareth, the black dragon, twisted by rage and grief, towering with wings of shadow and eyes like burning coals. The sky roared with his fury, and the earth quaked beneath the weight of his presence.

Yet the man did not flinch.

Lifting his hand to the heavens, he summoned the Seven Swords—legendary weapons of ancient power, each forged by divine hands and sealed away for an age when the world stood at its end. They appeared in a burst of radiant light, circling around him like celestial stars, humming with energy so fierce it made the very air vibrate.

Then, with a cry that echoed through the hearts of all who watched, he launched himself into the air, then cutting through the smoke like a comet, and the swords followed in a perfect spiral, their edges gleaming with lethal brilliance.

With one swift, impossibly powerful strike, he crashed into the dragon, unleashing a shockwave so immense it split the clouds and shook the mountains. Flame met steel, rage met resolve, and the battlefield became a blinding dance of light and fury.

All who watched stood frozen, eyes wide as their stare in awe. It was at that moment, for the first time in a long time, they finally saw hope.

Fire and thunder clashed in the skies, colliding with the force of titans. The heavens wept lightning, the earth groaned beneath the pressure of their battle. The clash between the god-blessed warrior and the corrupted black dragon raged from dawn to dusk, until finally, after endless hours of fury, pain, and destruction, the darkness began to wane.

With one final, earth-shaking blow, the great shadow that had loomed over the sky for days collapsed. The mighty black dragon finally crashed to the ground, his massive body carving a trench through the scorched earth. His roars fell silent. His wings, once vast as storms, lay torn and still.

A hush swept over the battlefield. Then came the cheering.

From the shattered remnants of tribes and people scattered across the land, voices rose in disbelief, then joy. Cries of victory. Of survival. Of hope. Tears of relief ran down soot-covered cheeks. Children clung to their mothers. The Warriors fell to their knees. For them, the nightmare was over.

But the man, the warrior with hair like moonlight and eyes like glittering twilight, stood unmoved. He did not raise his sword in triumph. He did not bask in the adoration. Instead, he slowly approached the fallen dragon, his expression unreadable, serene, yet heavy with emotion; it was pity and sorrow.

He crouched beside the massive, bleeding head of the once-mighty beast, now wheezing softly, barely clinging to life. Crimson eyes, dim and flickering like dying embers, turned toward him.

And he spoke, not with scorn or pride, but with a quiet, aching empathy.

"Poor, mighty dragon," he said softly, his voice cutting through the wind like a whisper of truth. "I know you were wronged. I know it was greed that took everything from you. They stole her from you... They killed her mercilessly, and you were unable to save her, and it broke your soul, right?"

Nazareth’s burning eyes widened faintly.

The man smiled gently, sorrow threading his expression. "She came to me," he said. "Your beloved. Her spirit crossed the veil to find me. She asked me to stop you... not with hatred, but with compassion.

"This," he gestured around the ruined battlefield, "is not who you are. She begged me to help you... to end your suffering."

A single, massive tear rolled down the dragon’s scaled cheek, carving a glowing trail through ash and blood. The malice that once consumed his eyes began to fade, replaced by something fragile—remorse. Clarity.

The man reached out, placing a hand gently on the dragon’s dark snout. "Your madness has taken root too deep," he said, his voice trembling just slightly. "It has tainted your soul. Soon, it will disappear entirely, scattered to the void... and you will not be able to find her."

Nazareth’s breath hitched.

"But there is still a way," the man whispered. "If you allow me... I can help you. I can purify your soul, but it will take a very-very long time, but when it’s done, your soul will be able to find her again but It’s a long process and it’s very lonely...so, it’s up to you now, if you agree, I can start now."

For a long moment, silence reigned. Then, slowly, painfully, the great dragon closed his eyes—and nodded.

"Very well then...oh, by the way, my name is Demian Vaughn Lucient"

________________________

"Aren’t they... far too kind?" Zhao Li Xin remarked casually, his eyes watching the distant sky where light still shimmered from the battle’s end.

The little girl beside him smiled, a soft, wistful curve on her lips. "They are, aren’t they? It’s astonishing, really. That man—and even more, all his descendants—somehow inherited that same warmth in their souls. I’ve always wondered how they managed to keep it... through everything."

Zhao Li Xin’s gaze sharpened thoughtfully. "So the shield... it wasn’t a prison after all. It was a sanctuary. A place to purify his soul."

"Mm," the girl nodded gently.

"But then, how does it know when to release him? What sends his soul on its way?" Zhao Li Xin pressed, his tone now contemplative, laced with curiosity.

The girl gave a small shrug, her eyes drifting toward the horizon.

"Evereth’s soul was already broken. Shattered beyond natural repair. The only thing holding it together was the shield’s magic.

When the purification is complete, the shield doesn’t need to decide anything. It simply breaks. And when it does..." She paused, voice softening, "Evereth’s soul will quietly fade... and finally be free." frёewebηovel.cѳm

Zhao Li Xin was silent for a moment, a breeze tugging gently at his robes.

"Strange," he murmured. "To think such power, such rage, could be held together by something so... gentle."

The little girl looked up at Zhao Li Xin, her eyes glowing faintly with quiet wisdom and sorrow. "That’s what makes Lucient’s power special," she said softly. "It isn’t just strength. It’s mercy. Healing. Hope."

Zhao Li Xin’s brows furrowed, unease creeping into his voice. "Then what happened? Why did the shield suddenly break? Why did Nazareth attack Lucient’s kingdom?"

The girl lowered her head, her expression dimming as if the weight of centuries bore down upon her. "It was because of him," she whispered.

Then she lifted her gaze, and Zhao Li Xin saw it—her eyes now blazed not with wisdom, but with fury. "You should know the true perpetrator behind all of this," she said, voice sharp like tempered steel. "His name is Lazarus."

Zhao Li Xin froze, his breath catching. "Lazarus? That’s impossible. He’s dead—I killed him myself!"

"And I’m grateful you did," the girl replied, her tone softening briefly. "You might have ruined his master plan, but that’s not his only plan. Lazarus never intended to rely on a single scheme. He always had contingencies... plans buried deep enough to grow even after his demise."

Zhao Li Xin’s fists clenched, a cold realization dawning in his eyes. "What plan?"

She turned to face him fully now, the wind tugging at her cloak, its edges fluttering like torn memories. Her voice dropped, heavy with bitter truth.

"Lazarus didn’t just spread his venom through dreams," she said coldly. "He infiltrated them. He slipped into the minds of the vulnerable while they slept, whispering lies, planting seeds of anxiety, envy, and unchecked ambition. Slowly, his voice became their inner voice. Their darkest desires... became his weapons."

A bitter sneer twisted her lips. "And then he found them—two souls ripe for corruption. One, the leader of a vast and powerful nation, an egomaniac. The other... a man with a desperate hunger to be special, to be admired and loved. He dreams of being the ’chosen one.’ Though they were worlds apart, they shared one same thing: they both admired and envied the Lucient family."

She paused, her eyes narrowing with rage. "So Lazarus fed that envy. He whispered secrets. Told them where to find Evereth... and how to break his shield. How to unravel the sanctum that kept his soul from collapsing, and so they did..."

Her hands trembled, clenched tight at her sides."When the shield weakened enough, Lazarus slipped into Evereth’s dreams. Like a parasite, he dug in deep. He poured lies into Evereth’s mind—telling him he’d been used, betrayed, and fooled by the Lucients."

Her voice broke, trembling with barely-contained fury. "He told Evereth the only way to be free from the pain... was to make them suffer. To kill every last Lucient. To burn their homes. To destroy everything they’d ever touched. To make them feel despair as he did."

The girl’s shoulder slumped, her arms rested weakly beside him, and tears fell from her eyes. "And you know the rest, what happened to them...to her"

Zhao Li Xin stood in silence. The weight of truth settled over him like a storm cloud. He knew. Somewhere deep in his heart, he had already sensed the outlines of this twisted fate. But hearing it laid bare made the burden heavier. His jaw clenched, his gaze distant, darkened.

’That damm*d SNAKE!’

The girl watched him quietly for a moment, then continued, her voice dropping to a low, bitter murmur."But Lazarus’s plan... didn’t stop there."

She took a slow breath, her fists still trembling slightly. "No. That was just the first layer—the opening move in a game he’s been playing for far longer than anyone realized. He expected the Lucient bloodline would eventually rise and stop Evereth. That’s why he laid a second trap. A deeper one."

Her eyes sharpened, gleaming with a painful knowing.

"You remember who he was, don’t you?" she asked, her voice cold. "The Guardian of the Door of Worlds. The Master of Oblivion itself. That title wasn’t just for show—it gave him the ability to roam between the worlds through his consciousness."

Her voice trembled now, not with fear, but with fury. "And in that endless search... finally, he found the right soul. Someone who is as desperate as my Evereth. Someone who would carry his will forward long after his body was gone. And he found her."

She turned her eyes back to Zhao Li Xin, haunted and burning, "Her name... was Zalchana."