The words echoed through John's mind.
**It wants your blood.**
Not your life.
Not your Dragon Core.
Your blood.
An uneasy silence settled over the battlefield.
Even the wind seemed to disappear.
John slowly lowered his gaze toward the black scales covering his foreleg.
For the first time since arriving in this world...
His own bloodline felt less like a blessing...
And more like a target.
---
Lythriel was the first to react.
She immediately stepped in front of John, crimson spear leveled toward Asterion.
"No."
Her voice was firm.
"If it wants him..."
"It goes through us first."
John blinked in surprise.
"Lythriel..."
She didn't look back.
"Don't."
"I'm serious."
Her grip tightened around her spear.
"I don't care if it's the strongest thing in existence."
"It isn't taking you."
Aerion silently walked forward as well.
Without a word...
He stood beside Lythriel.
His silver blade left its sheath with a quiet metallic whisper.
Sylvara sighed softly.
