The Extra Wants Control

[Dragon continent]

A magnificent dragon in human form with sapphire hair and eyes, stretched languidly on his plush couch. His scales shimmered beneath his clothes, a constant reminder of his true power. Three pairs of horns curved gracefully on his head, forming a natural crown.

"War looms," he mused, his blue eyes flickering with an ancient wisdom. "Whether it's invaders on our doorstep or an inevitable clash with the other races, bloodshed is a coming storm. But fret not," he continued, a hint of arrogance creeping into his voice, "we Dragons are nature's chosen. Our strength is unmatched, and we shall prove this dominance to all who dare challenge us."

A soldier, clad in gleaming armor, approached the king and bowed low. "Your Majesty," he rasped, "reports indicate the invaders are currently attacking City Aquarius. What are your orders?"

"Annihilate them," the King declared, his voice leaving no room for argument.

The soldier saluted crisply. "As you command, Your Majesty."

Aethelred turned to Ashburn, his loyal advisor adorned in a sharp red suit. Ashburn's scarlet hair and eyes mirrored the Dragon King's lineage. "Ashburn," the King drawled, "I need to gauge the true strength of our forces. Summon all competent Dragons here. I want to see them firsthand. Also, what news of your brother, Cinder?

He ascended to ten stars a few years ago, albeit a very weak one, but a ten star nonetheless."

Ashburn's brow furrowed. "He vanished in the Human Continent, Your Majesty. All traces of him have gone cold."

"The Human Continent, huh?" A glint of intrigue sparked in Aethelred's eyes.

"Send Sebastian, the dark dragon. Offer him freedom in exchange for locating Cinder. Whether he finds Cinder or not, causing chaos among the humans will be an added bonus. It might reveal the true strength of our potential enemies."

"And lastly," Aethelred added, "fetch my son."

"As you command, Your Majesty," Ashburn bowed, ready to carry out his king's ruthless yet strategic orders. The gears of war were in motion, fueled by the Dragon King's ambition.

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[Dwarven Continent]

King Bjorn, his beard bristling with defiance, met the gaze of the slender figure with black hair and lavender-gray eyes. "So, have you reached a decision, King Bjorn? Your dwarves may be sturdy, but against the might of Dragons, Elves, and Beastmen, you stand at a disadvantage.

Craftsmen you may be, but war is upon you, surely you can feel it." The figure's voice was smooth, yet held a predatory edge.

"If I refuse, I assume your people will resort to… persuasion? Kidnapping my daughter, perhaps? Or a good, old-fashioned massacre to convince me of your… benevolence?" Bjorn countered, his voice gruff. "And who's to say you'd keep my people safe after? You might just keep a breeding pair, for all I know. Your organization isn't exactly known for its good name."

The black-haired man chuckled, a sound devoid of humor. "Indeed, you make a valid point, Dwarf. But what choice do you have?"

Bjorn straightened. "You're right. My dwarves are no warriors at heart, but we won't go down without a fight. I accept your… offer. But there's one condition."

"A condition?" The man's smile turned cold. "You're in no position to bargain, Dwarf." He unleashed his nine-star aura, a show of force meant to intimidate.

But Bjorn stood his ground, his own nine-star aura flaring to life, meeting the pressure head-on. "Enough!" boomed a voice from the shrouded figure beside the black-haired man. With a presence that dwarfed both others, the figure released a ten-star aura, silencing the room. "Fine," it continued, its voice raspy and deep. "We'll offer you a chance.

Impress our leader, and you'll earn a seat at the table. Does that suit you, Your Majesty?"

Bjorn, his beard still trembling slightly, nodded curtly. "Very well."

"Then a pleasure doing business with you, King Bjorn. Let us depart." As the shrouded figure spoke, it and the black-haired man vanished in a swirl of shadows.

Alone in the chamber, Bjorn's shoulders slumped. "There's no turning back now," he muttered, his voice heavy with worry. "Everything for my people. Even my life if it comes to that. This is a king's duty. May the mountains guide and protect us..." He trailed off, a silent prayer for the survival of his dwarven kin echoing in the chamber.

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[????????????]

The black-haired man, X, leaned closer as the cloaked figure, T, spoke. "So Bjorn will be meeting the leader?"

T chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth. "No, X. He'll be dancing with a puppet, strung along until we have what we need. Then... disposal."

"And what about the dwarven throne after Bjorn?" X stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"The daughter, of course. A pliable young ruler, easily molded to our will. Now, the other races? Are our agents in place?"

"Oh, they're all a tangled mess, Your Excellency. Plotting, preparing for some grand war against each other. Blindly focused on their ancient rivalries, oblivious to the true threat lurking in the shadows." X smirked.

T let out a sigh, a sound like wind whistling through a forgotten tomb. "Predictable. It matters little. We serve the will of the Mastermind."

"Speaking of the Mastermind," X voice lowered, a hint of curiosity creeping in, "what is the plan against these new invaders? And when will I have the honor of meeting..."

Suddenly, X froze, a flicker of defiance replaced by abject terror. A crimson spiderweb tattoo materialized on his temple, pulsing with an ominous red light. T leaned closer, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper.

"It seems you've strayed from the path, X. Forgotten your place. You do not question the One, nor his chosen vessel. You serve."

X gritted his teeth, a strangled whimper escaping his throat as his eyes glazed over. The defiance melted away, replaced by a hollow obedience. "Y-yes, Your Excellency," he rasped, his voice devoid of life. "I will be mindful of my place."

T released the pressure, the spiderweb tattoo fading as quickly as it appeared. X stood ramrod straight, a shell of his former self. "Excellent," T said, his voice regaining its earlier monotone. "Now, wait for further instructions."

The black-haired man remained motionless, a chilling reminder of the absolute power wielded by the enigmatic T and the shadowy organization he was part of. Their true goals shrouded in secrecy, they manipulated the races from the darkness, a terrifying force waiting to exploit the chaos brewing on the horizon.

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