The Dragon's Shield

As Lynaria navigated through the dense forest, the intensity of the competition reached its peak. Her two opponents, now in their full dragon forms, were racing ahead, their massive wings creating gusts of wind that pushed against her. Despite the odds, Lynaria kept her focus. She had no choice but to rely on her speed, utilizing her sharp instincts and experience from the previous battles to maneuver through the thick foliage.

Her thoughts were sharp and clear, knowing the three magical artifacts lay hidden deep within the forest, each guarded by fierce creatures and deadly traps. She had already faced several challenges and was now closing in on the first of the three artifacts: the Holy Dragon Sword.

The sword was legendary—a cursed blade that glowed with an eerie blue light, capable of killing anyone who dared to touch it unless they possessed the strength of a dragon. The only way to retrieve it was to outwit its magic. Lynaria knew the stories well, but there was no turning back now. She approached cautiously, every step measured.

But before she could reach the sword, movement caught her eye. One of her opponents, a hulking dragon-man, had somehow detected her presence. His eyes burned with malice as he snarled.

"I knew you'd make it this far, human," he sneered, shifting into his full dragon form. "But you're no match for me."

Lynaria's heart raced, but she remained calm. She quickly assessed the situation, drawing her dagger in preparation.

"You underestimate me," she said, her voice steady despite the danger. In an instant, the dragon-man lunged toward her, his claws tearing through the air. Lynaria nimbly dodged his attack, narrowly avoiding the flames that erupted from his mouth.

The dragon crashed through a nearby tree, and Lynaria seized the moment. She moved with the precision of a seasoned fighter, launching a well-placed strike at his flank. Her blade found its mark, and the dragon howled in pain, staggering back.

But just as she thought the battle was won, another figure appeared—a second dragon-man, faster and sleeker, his black scales gleaming in the sunlight. Without warning, the two dragons circled her, their eyes burning with rage.

"You think you can defeat us, human?" one of them growled.

Lynaria knew she had to think fast. Surrounded, with no clear escape, she turned her gaze to the Holy Dragon Sword, still gleaming in the clearing.

With a quick movement, she threw a small rock to the side, creating a distraction. As both dragons turned toward the noise, she darted forward and grabbed the sword. The moment her fingers touched the hilt, a surge of power coursed through her. The blade didn't burn her—it responded to her presence, as though it recognized her.

The dragons froze in disbelief, realizing too late that the human had gained control of the weapon.

"You… you're not just a human," one of them gasped.

Lynaria smirked, her grip tightening around the sword. "I told you not to underestimate me."

With newfound strength, Lynaria fought back, her movements swift and precise. The dragons, realizing their mistake, tried to retaliate, but Lynaria was too fast. She pushed them back, forcing them to retreat.

But the battle wasn't over yet. There were still two more sacred objects to retrieve, and Lynaria knew she had to stay one step ahead of her remaining opponents.

Back at the palace, Kaelron stood watching through a magical scrying orb. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of admiration in his eyes as he observed Lynaria wielding the sword.

"So, she's not just a servant," he murmured, a hint of intrigue in his voice.

The competition was far from over, but Kaelron was certain of one thing—Lynaria was no ordinary human.