The Wrath of the Dragon Rider

"Damnation!" Grayson removed the half-smoked cigar from his mouth, his teeth clenched in frustration as he cast a glare at the encircling silver dragon knights.

"Get out of my way, blasted fools, if you still wish to learn the whereabouts of the sacred relic!" Grayson pointed his sword at Duglas with vexation, shouting in annoyance.

"It's precisely because we want the relic's location that we won't let you escape," Duglas retorted, unwavering as he raised his spear with a firm voice, "What exactly did Alyssia tell you? Why did you kill her? Was it to cover up some unspeakable crimes?"

"I don't want to kill you, but if you don't step aside in three seconds, don't blame me for not being polite!" Grayson simmered with rage as he spat at Duglas, who remained stoically fixated on Grayson, showing no sign of backing down.

Seeing this, Grayson surged forward, and Duglas, rather than retreating, spurred his griffin to swoop at Grayson with its massive talons.

With a sidestep, Grayson dodged the griffin's attack, his sword thrusting through the creature's armor and into its flesh. He then leaped up, kicking Duglas squarely in the chest and sending him tumbling off the griffin.

Duglas fell heavily onto the snowy ground, rolling before rising to see Grayson mounting the griffin. Grayson grasped the beast's mane near its neck and slashed open its jugular, the creature's blood spurting out as it collapsed with a mournful cry.

The surrounding knights were taken aback and converged on Grayson. Katheren, in haste, raised her pistols, her bullets raining down like hail upon the knights. The flying metal injured several griffins, causing them to back away unsteadily.

Seizing the opportunity, Grayson forged a path for himself and Katheren, aiming to dash down the slope when suddenly, a flash of gold. A chain wrapped around his ankle, yanking him backward to the ground. Grayson rolled, grasped the chain, and with a twist, freed himself, leaping to his feet.

"Grayson, you've been insolent enough, my patience has its limits!" The spearhead that had been launched sprung back into its shaft as Andros stood firm, his griffin Tadarius descending behind him, with Seraphine's silhouette visible on its back.

"Andros, do you even know what you're doing?" Grayson, trying to suppress his exasperation, glared at the knight commander, "If it weren't for you and your foolish knights, I would have captured the culprit who stole the relic!"

"Who are these culprits you speak of? Where are they?" Andros lifted his visor, his eyes filled with skepticism as he scrutinized Grayson.

Grayson shook his head gently, "They are underlings of 'Bloodhand' Wystan. The village chief, Alyssia, and the grandmaster's deaths are all connected to him. The true villain behind the theft of the relic is the one commanding Wystan!"

"Captain, don't believe him. When we landed, only the two of them were here, no one else. This is all a ploy to escape!" Duglas pointed at Grayson and Katheren, calling back to Andros.

"'Bloodhand' Wystan has been imprisoned in the Imperial Jail for a hundred years. When I left the capital, he was still locked in the Eagle Jail. How can you prove any connection to him?" Andros gazed at Grayson with a meaningful expression.

"It was with my own eyes I saw 'Bloodhand' Wystan kill the grandmaster. If you don't believe me, in the woods behind you, there lies a black-robed corpse, one of his subordinates!"

Grayson directed his sword toward the woods behind Andros. The knight commander glanced back at the indicated direction, pondered for a moment, and then ordered Duglas to investigate with several knights.

After a tense silence, punctuated only by Seraphine's attempts to mediate, Duglas hurried back with a report whispered into Andros's ear.

Andros turned to Grayson with a furrowed brow, "Where is this corpse you speak of?"

"Are all your underlings blind? A black-robed man in a white snowfield, and you can't see it?" Grayson let out a scornful laugh, with Katheren adding, "Exactly, the body was lying right there in the snow, with clear bloodstains around it!"

Andros cast a scrutinizing look at Duglas, who stepped forward and proclaimed loudly, "We've searched the entire surrounding woods, there's no corpse, no bloodstains. You're clearly lying!"

"Have you anything else to say in your defense?" Andros asked Grayson with a grim tone.

"I have nothing more to say. If you want to fight, let's do this now," Grayson responded coolly, cigar back in mouth.

"Wait a minute, there must be some misunderstanding here. Why don't we sit and sort out the whole story?" Seraphine intervened, signaling Grayson to remain calm while urging Andros to talk.

"I'll certainly talk, but he must come with me and explain everything," Andros said, gently pushing Seraphine aside, his gaze like piercing swords toward Grayson.

Grayson's lips, shadowed by stubble, twisted into a mocking smile as he taunted, "Let's see if the emperor's lapdogs have teeth sharp enough!"

Andros's anger flared at Grayson's words; he snapped his helmet visor shut and surged forward, his spearhead shooting out like a serpent's strike aimed at Grayson's chest.

Grayson smirked, deflecting the spearhead with his sword, then pounced towards the knight commander like a ravenous tiger.

Andros reeled in the spearhead, which whooshed just above Grayson's lowered head, sweeping over the brim of his wide hat. Grayson ducked and lunged, aiming his sword at Andros's knee. Andros retreated, and before he knew it, Grayson had rolled forward, colliding into the knight commander's embrace.

"Taste this, sir knight!" Grayson bellowed, his fist thudding against Andros's chestplate, throwing the commander off balance. But his heavy metal boots steadied him, and with a dragon-like tail whip, his spearstaff struck Grayson's shin.

Grayson grimaced, feeling a surge of pain in his leg, and stumbled backward, falling. Instinctively, his hand reached out, scraping across Andros's chestplate, his fingers making an ear-piercing screech against the metal.

Springing back to his feet, Grayson saw the deep claw marks he'd left on Andros's fine steel chestplate; marks that seemed carved by a blade. Andros, shocked, looked up to see Grayson flexing his fingers in a threatening gesture.

"Seems your armor isn't as sturdy as you thought. Didn't the emperor fund you properly for your gear?" Grayson taunted, massaging his sore leg, his lips curled in a cold sneer.

Surveying the angered knights, Grayson spread his hands wide, mocking, "Is it that all the money the emperor wrings from his people is only enough to fatten himself up like a pig?"

"You cur, don't you dare insult His Majesty!" Andros roared, his spear whirling with a forceful swing, a golden light flashing from the visor of his helm. In an instant, his entire silver armor gleamed with a golden sheen, as did his once-silver spear.

The enraged "Son of the Dragon" leaped high, his spear lunging at Grayson. Grayson retreated rapidly as the spearhead zoomed through the brilliant gold light, like a roaring dragon lunging toward him.

Grayson raised his sword to meet the attack, and a column of golden light enveloped him, causing those around to turn away in astonishment.

With a blast of wind, a thunderous explosion reverberated through everyone's eardrums, a golden shockwave radiated from the snow-capped summit…