SWNOVELXO Chapter 232: The Breaking Point
Drakonix's sharp eyes caught the steely expression on the representative's face. Something had shifted. The man's clenched jaw, the tremble in his shoulders—not from fear, but from long-suppressed rage—said it all. The minority clans had reached their limit. They would bow no longer.
"How dare you speak so rudely to me?!" the Dragon King bellowed, his voice echoing like thunder across the gilded halls. His scaled hand came down hard on the armrest of his throne, shaking the golden structure beneath him.
The representative didn't flinch. "I said nothing false. There wasn't a single lie in my words." His voice rang with bitter clarity. "You don't care about us, do you? To you major clans, we're little more than trained beasts—obedient and disposable. We, the minority, once held respect for you. We took your words seriously. We believed in your guidance. But we were fools."
He turned his back deliberately, a silent act of defiance. "I officially demand the withdrawal of your investigation team. From this moment forward, we will handle our affairs ourselves."
"You will not leave!" the Dragon King roared, his face contorting with fury, veins bulging from his forehead like molten rivers.
"You don't have to ask. I'm not your subject," the representative said coolly. "You are a king, yes—but so am I. I don't answer to you any longer. We, the minority clans, have chosen independence."
He walked away, each step heavy with finality.
The Dragon King sat stunned for only a moment—then rage overtook him like wildfire.
"Kill him!" he commanded.
A dragon guard reacted instantly, drawing his blade in one swift, fluid motion. The representative's head fell from his shoulders before the echo of the king's voice faded.
"NOOOO!" Drakonix shouted, lunging forward, but it was already too late. The man's body crumpled to the floor, lifeless and limp.
"Father… why?" Drakonix demanded, his chest heaving. His worst fears had begun to manifest.
"He disrespected me," the Dragon King replied without remorse, as though speaking of swatting a fly. "That's the price."
"His people were already on edge. This will push them past it! You may have just started a war," Drakonix said, trying to reason with him.
"And what of it?" the king snarled. "They are nothing but minor clans. If they dare rebel… I will crush them."
Arrogance festered in his voice like rot. Drakonix could only shake his head, the bitter taste of dread in his mouth. Dark times were coming.
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"So?" the Elven Queen asked, her voice as cool as mist in a forest glade. "He hasn't returned. Does that mean… he is dead?"
The tension in the room was palpable. The elves, though one of the great clans, had begun to suffer similar fates—kidnappings, threats, and disappearances. They no longer trusted their fellow major clans. A quiet rebellion brewed within their elegant hearts.
"The candle of his life has extinguished," said the Goblin Chieftain, gripping his cane until his knuckles turned pale. "He was killed. There's no doubt."
"Then the major clans are behind this," the Orc Leader growled, tusks grinding in fury. "And they expect us to remain silent?"
The Crown Prince of the human clan stood. His eyes burned with righteous anger, yet his voice remained steady. "Then the time has come to act. Kidnapping our people… leads to the same end—our extinction. But I will not die in chains. If I must fall, I'll fall with a blade in my hand."
"Agreed!" said the Treant leader, his voice deep like ancient roots rumbling beneath the earth.
"Agreed!" came the Orc again, glaring at the gathered leaders. "If anyone here wishes to avoid war, speak now. But know this—you will live as slaves under the major clans. Even if you survive, you'll do so with chains around your neck."
No one moved.
The Crown Prince of humans nodded solemnly. "Then it's decided. We go to war."
And so, preparations began. The minor clans—long overlooked, long dismissed—sharpened their blades and called their banners. To their surprise, even some major clans joined their cause: the Dwarves, the Werewolves, the Vampires, and the Elves. All had tasted the same poison. All had seen the writing on the wall.
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"It seems," the Celestial King mused, seated upon his throne of starlight and silver, "our little action has stirred the embers of war."
Across from him sat the Demon God, shadows curling lazily around his form. "So it seems. The increased number of kidnappings by our kin has drawn too much attention."
"They can be crushed," the Celestial King said dismissively, his tone like cold steel.
"Indeed." The Demon God leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Any good seed found from your crossbreeding efforts?"
"Not yet. But there's one child… born of a human princess. Showing remarkable promise."
The Demon God's grin widened. "I have one as well. Not as extraordinary, but promising. Also born of a human. It appears humans are ideal vessels—weak in bloodline, yes, but filled with potential. Their bodies inherit our power well, even suppressing the more destructive effects."
"Unlimited potential, yet untapped," the Celestial King agreed.
Their voices were hushed, their conversation cloaked in utter secrecy. None knew of this meeting. None ever would.
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"My king!" a soldier dropped to one knee before the Dragon King.
"What is it?" the king asked, eyes narrowing.
"The minority clans… they've declared war. They march toward our borders as we speak!"
The king stood in fury, his robes sweeping behind him like a wildfire. "What?! How dare they stand against us?!"
His eyes burned with rage.
"Prepare the army," he growled. "We'll remind them why they kneel. We'll remind them who rules this realm!"
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War erupted like a storm without end.
At first, the major clans had laughed—dismissive of the idea that the weaker races could pose any real threat. But the war dragged on, and reality sobered them quickly.
The minor clans were more dangerous than expected. Backed by rebellious major clans, they struck hard, adapted fast, and resisted fiercely.
The humans, in particular, astonished everyone.
At the start, they had been the weakest—fragile, easily broken. But they learned. They adapted. They lost, studied, evolved, and returned stronger each time.
An endless cycle of defeat and improvement carved them into formidable warriors. And soon, something emerged from among them: the Dragon Hunters.
They studied dragons. Understood their anatomy. Exploited weaknesses. Though still difficult, dragons were no longer invincible—and the humans began to prove it on the battlefield.
They weren't just fighting for survival anymore.
They were fighting to win.