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{3rd Pov}
The Dragon Clan Gathering was not a casual assembly.
It was a formal convocation attended exclusively by clans that were recognized as true dragons.
Blood purity did not need to be absolute—diluted bloodlines were still acceptable as long as they remained fundamentally draconic in origin.
However, mixed races were strictly prohibited.
Half-dragons, dragonkin hybrids, artificially enhanced beings, and lesser dragonlings were not permitted to attend.
This gathering was reserved for legitimate dragon bloodlines acknowledged by the greater Dragon Valley hierarchy.
Status here was not symbolic—it was verified through lineage, strength, and recognition from the ruling authority.
Whether a clan originated from the Outer Valley or had already advanced into the Inner Valley, as long as they were classified as true dragons, they were allowed entry.
That was the rule.
The purpose of the gathering was straightforward but politically heavy.
Under the supervision of Dragon Lord Memo, each clan would be evaluated based on their development over the past hundred years.
This included advancements in cultivation tiers, the rise of new Emperors, territorial expansion, resource acquisition, and overall bloodline progress.
Performance determined ranking.
Ranking determined territory.
At the conclusion of the evaluation, Dragon Lord Memo would reorganize territorial allocations.
Clans that had progressed significantly could be promoted to better regions with richer resources.
Those who stagnated—or worse, declined—risked losing territory or being pushed outward.
It was not merely a ceremonial ranking system.
It was redistribution of power.
Every hundred years, the hierarchy shifted.
And no clan present took this lightly.
Even the atmosphere on the platform reflected that tension.
While outwardly composed, every clan leader was calculating.
Every elder was observing rivals.
Subtle aura fluctuations betrayed suppressed competitiveness.
Because in Dragon Valley—
Resources determined survival.
And survival determined dominance.
As Astreo walked toward the central platform, he quickly observed the arrangement of power.
The structure was not random.
All the Monarchs were positioned along the outer ring of the gathering grounds while Fake Emperors were positioned in the middle ring of the gathering.
Their placement clearly indicated recognition of their strength while simultaneously reminding them of their limits.
Closer to the inner circle stood only the true Emperors.
No one crossed that invisible boundary casually.
Hierarchy here was physical, visible, and enforced through sheer aura.
As Astreo and Xyra advanced, numerous gazes shifted toward them.
The movement of a Mid-Emperor dragon was impossible to ignore.
A few subtle aura fluctuations rippled through the air as other clans silently evaluated their presence.
They came to a stop beside approximately twelve organized clan groups.
Only two groups occupied the very center of the platform—clearly the highest-ranking dragon clans within this layer of Dragon Valley.
Their presence was steady and unshaken, exuding the confidence of long-standing dominance.
Xyra followed Astreo's lead without hesitation.
Despite being the Matriarch of her clan and a Mid-Emperor dragon in her own right, she stood beside him naturally, acknowledging his position as Patriarch and dominant partner.
Her posture was not just submissive—it was aligned.
Beside her stood Nemonia, a Lesser Emperor, maintaining composed vigilance.
Behind them were three clan elders, each a Supreme Monarch.
Their auras were disciplined and contained, yet powerful enough to assert their legitimacy among the gathered clans.
Astreo had invested heavily in Xyra's clan.
Technically, it was now his clan as well.
As Patriarch—and Xyra's dominant husband—his authority extended through her bloodline and territory.
Dragons operated differently from humans.
Their loyalty, once established, was absolute and deeply ingrained.
They valued strength and leadership far more transparently.
Because of that, Astreo found it easier to allocate resources to them compared to human factions.
There were fewer hidden agendas, fewer political betrayals.
Of course, he had prioritized certain individuals more than others.
Namely, his newly acquired step-son and step-daughter.
Ahem.
Strategic allocation, nothing more.
It was slightly amusing to Astreo when he considered the age difference.
Many of the dragons gathered here were hundreds of years older than him.
Some were over a thousand.
And yet, they stood either at equal footing with him—or below him.
Even Xyra, his wife, was more than a thousand years his senior.
Age clearly did not dictate hierarchy here.
Strength did.
As he surveyed the surrounding clans, he had already quietly scanned nearly every group using the System.
Aura density, elemental alignment, estimated cultivation tier, bloodline purity—most of it had been analyzed within seconds.
There was, however, one exception.
He did not attempt to scan Dragon Lord Memo.
And more importantly, he did not dare to.
It was not fear in the conventional sense.
It was calculation.
Attempting to probe a Plane Dominating being without necessity was reckless.
Even with System assistance, if such an act could be perceived it would be treated as hostility or disrespect.
Astreo understood very clearly that the Plane Dominating Realm and the Divine Realm were not equivalent levels of existence.
A Plane Dominator was a being capable of ruling over and enforcing authority within a single plane—controlling its laws, suppressing its inhabitants, and maintaining its structural integrity.
But a Divine Realm entity?
That was something entirely different.
A Divine Realm being possessed their own universe.
Their existence transcended singular planes.
They were creators, law-makers on a higher scale, sovereign entities whose authority extended beyond dimensional boundaries.
The gap between a Plane Dominator and a Divine Realm entity was not incremental.
It was absolute.
The difference was greater than heaven and earth.
Astreo was aware that within the Core Dragon Valley—deep in the most sacred circle of the dimension—there was at least one Divine Realm existence presiding over the entire dragon civilization.
He did not know their identity.
He did not know their temperament.
And at the moment, he did not need to.
For now, the immediate concern was the Plane Dominator before him, and that is why he didn't dare test his system's limits even if it said it can scan anything below Divine Tier, he was not foolish.
After all, even despite the gap in power between Plane Dominator and Divine Tier they were like same realm, so he didn't know if he would find out his system if he scanned him which he didn't wanted to expose or rather could not afford to ever expose.
He remained composed, standing among Emperors and Monarchs, fully aware that even this gathering was only a fragment of the larger hierarchy governing this dimension.
Astreo had deliberately chosen his position.
He stopped at a point where the surrounding clans were either equal to him in strength or slightly weaker.
It was not random placement.
It was calculated positioning.
At the very center of the platform stood two dominant clans.
Both were led by High-Emperor dragons, and it was obvious they were competing for the number one ranking within this circle of Dragon Valley.
Their aura density alone made that clear.
The space around them felt heavier, more compact, more refined.
Astreo had no intention of antagonizing them.
There was no need.
In a few years, perhaps even less, he would likely step into the Plane Dominating Realm himself.
Why create unnecessary hostility now?
Arrogance for the sake of ego was a poor investment.
Ruining future alliances or provoking ancient High-Emperors prematurely would only complicate matters.
He understood the game.
There were generally two approaches in such hierarchical environments.
In one scenario, a person concealed their power entirely, hiding in the shadows until the decisive moment.
In the other, everyone already knew what that person was capable of, and that knowledge itself became a deterrent.
Astreo chose neither extreme.
He did not hide Xyra's strength.
A Mid-Emperor was already a statement.
But he also did not expose his full capability—certainly not his System or the depth of his potential.
It was a balanced approach.
Visible strength, controlled mystery.
For the next two hours, they remained in position without speaking much.
No one shifted from their allocated zones.
The gathering would not formally begin until Dragon Lord Memo declared it so.
Clans continued arriving in disciplined formations.
Each delegation took its place according to strength and recognition.
Despite the rivalries present, no one mocked late arrivals.
No one made unnecessary comments.
Dragons were proud—but they were not foolishly petty.
In the presence of a Plane Dominating overseer, discipline was absolute.
There were rules governing this gathering.
Clan disputes, personal feuds, and old grudges were not to be publicly displayed here.
Whatever conflicts existed between factions were to remain contained outside this platform.
Here, only hierarchy and progress mattered.
There would be no chaos here.
No impulsive confrontations.
No dramatic face-slapping.
No reckless displays of ego.
This was not some minor clan tournament.
It was a structured assembly under the supervision of a Plane Dominating existence.
Order was absolute.
In fact, many clan leaders from the Inner Valley were quietly observing Xyra's faction.
Until recently, most of them barely knew her name.
To them, she and Nemonia had been little more than distant figures from the Outer Valley—irrelevant in the grand hierarchy.
But now, things were different.
The fact that Memo had not suppressed or pushed them outward when they stopped closer to the center spoke volumes.
Placement in this gathering was not arbitrary.
If they had overstepped, the Plane Dominator would have corrected it instantly.
The absence of correction meant acknowledgment.
And acknowledgment meant competition.
Several Inner Valley leaders subtly shifted their attention toward Xyra's group.
Their expressions remained composed, but caution was evident in their aura fluctuations.
A Mid-Emperor rising from the Outer Valley disrupted established power balances.
Then, the massive golden head of Dragon Lord Memo lowered slightly.
His gaze swept across the platform, encompassing every dragon present.
The platform itself rested across his colossal coils, supported by his living body.
"All clans have gathered," Memo announced.
His voice was deep and resonant, yet controlled. It did not need to roar to command attention.
Every clan performed a slight bow in unison.
Including Astreo.
It was protocol.
Memo continued, "There are quite a few surprises this century."
A faint crackle of lightning ran along his scales as he shifted his focus.
"Two Outer Valley clans have qualified for Inner Valley status."
A subtle ripple of tension passed through the gathered groups.
Then his eyes settled directly on Xyra's faction.
"And I must admit," Memo said evenly, "I am particularly surprised by the progress of the Black Fire Dragon Clan."
The attention of the entire platform shifted toward Astreo's group.
"From an injured Evolving Commander to a Mid-Emperor… that is quite a leap, Xyra."
Memo's voice carried a trace of genuine surprise—subtle, but unmistakable.
It was rare for a Plane Dominating being to express such reaction openly.
A wave of astonished murmurs spread across the platform.
Many of the dragon clan leaders had known fragments of Xyra's past.
Some remembered her injury.
Others remembered her stagnation.
To hear that she had once been merely an injured Evolving Commander—and had now ascended to Mid-Emperor—was not just impressive.
It was disruptive.
Memo's gaze shifted slightly.
"And you as well, Nemonia. From Great Monarch to Lesser Emperor. It appears the last hundred years have been very fruitful for your clan."
Nemonia lowered her head respectfully but remained steady.
Memo then cast a brief glance toward the three accompanying elders.
He did not comment further, but the acknowledgment alone was sufficient. T
heir advancement to Supreme Monarch level was noted.
Xyra stepped forward half a pace.
"Thank you, Lord Memo," she said calmly.
"My progress is largely due to the guidance and support of my new husband—Lord Star Emperor."
She glanced toward Astreo.
Astreo gave a small nod, neither boasting nor denying.
Memo's golden eyes settled on him fully for the first time.
"Ah. A demi-human," Memo said thoughtfully.
"A new variant from the Earth Plane, perhaps? That would explain much."
He nodded once, as though a piece of the puzzle had fallen into place.
The statement rippled across the gathering.
Some clan leaders exchanged looks.
Others sneered faintly.
None dared speak openly in front of Memo.
From the perspective of most dragons present, it appeared that Xyra had formed an alliance—perhaps even a union—with a powerful force from the Main Plane.
A demi-human with Emperor-level presence was not common.
However, what unsettled many more was not Astreo's existence—
It was Xyra's tone.
The way she addressed him.
The respect in her voice suggested that she was not the dominant party in the relationship.
To some of the more arrogant dragons, the conclusion formed quickly and quietly.
They assumed she had sold herself for power.
Astreo noticed the subtle shifts in aura.
He did not react.
Misjudgment was useful.
It kept expectations low.
And underestimation was often the most efficient shield.
Now, Memo did not concern himself with the finer political implications of their relationship.
As long as no one present crossed into the Plane Dominator Realm, their methods, alliances, marriages, and power sources were irrelevant to him.
His authority was not threatened by Emperors forming unions or seeking external aid.
To him, such matters were minor fluctuations within a stable hierarchy.
The only line that truly mattered was the Plane Dominator threshold.
Everything below that was internal competition.
As for why Memo remembered Xyra and Nemonia by name—despite them having been mere Outer Valley members a century ago—the explanation was straightforward.
Memo remembered every dragon who had ever attended the Gathering.
Every name.
Every aura signature.
Every rank progression.
If a clan returned after a hundred years and displayed even the slightest noteworthy improvement, he would recall them instantly.
If they made a dramatic leap in strength, he would address them directly.
This was not favoritism.
It was leadership.
Memo understood that today's Outer Valley dragon could become tomorrow's Inner Valley ruler.
A Mid-Emperor today might stand at the Plane Dominator threshold in a few centuries.
Potential allies, rivals, or future administrators could emerge from anywhere.
And as a Plane Dominator who oversaw the entire Dragon Valley outside the Core, memorizing names was not a burden.
Even if he were asked to remember every dragon born within his jurisdiction, he could do so effortlessly.
His mental capacity was not comparable to that of lower beings.
However, he limited active recall to those who attended the Gathering.
There was a reason he presided over this assembly.
He was not merely a figurehead.
He was the evaluator, the allocator of territory, and the overseer of progression.
Every clan present stood before him under silent assessment.
After acknowledging Xyra's clan, Memo continued addressing other groups that had demonstrated significant advancement over the past century.
For nearly an hour, he called out names one by one—dragons who had broken bottlenecks, clans that had climbed tiers, individuals who had advanced from Monarch to Emperor, or from Outer Valley status into legitimate Inner Valley contention.
Each acknowledgment was brief, direct, and precise.
There were no unnecessary speeches.
No exaggerations.
Just recognition of measurable progress.
Once the formal acknowledgments were complete, Memo's lightning-lined body shifted slightly, and the massive platform trembled with controlled force.
"The ranking phase will now begin," he declared.
A subtle tension spread across the gathering.
"All rankers may challenge the next position."
There was no need for further explanation.
This was tradition.
Almost immediately, silent glares began to pass between clans.
Ancient rivalries resurfaced without a word being spoken.
Dragons did not scream challenges across the arena like reckless beasts.
They chose their targets with measured hostility.
The structure was simple.
Clans would enter a designated pocket dimension and fight representatives of the opposing clan.
Victories and defeats would determine their placement within the Valley hierarchy.
Territory allocation, resource distribution, and influence for the next hundred years would depend on these results.
The system was brutal.
But efficient.
Memo—possessed a Divine Gift of restoration.
His healing authority allowed him to pull even a dragon on the brink of death back to full vitality.
As long as the battle occurred within his sanctioned dimension, no participant would truly die.
What happened after the Gathering ended was not his responsibility.
However, no dragon would perish under his supervision.
Furthermore, he would ensure that all injuries were completely healed before clans departed.
This prevented opportunistic retaliation or predatory ambushes once the event concluded.
The Gathering was competition—not extermination.
Xyra did not hesitate.
Without theatrics, without posturing, her clan issued a direct challenge to a faction led by a Mid-Emperor.
A bold move.
They had chosen a Mid-Emperor clan as their first opponent.
"I shall challenge the Jade Dragon Clan," Xyra announced calmly.
Her voice carried across the platform without strain.
The leader of the Jade Dragon Clan turned toward them, his expression stiff and unfriendly. There was no visible smile, no attempt at warmth.
However, in accordance with the rules of the Gathering—and under Memo's supervision—he responded with proper decorum.
"I accept the challenge."
There was no room for refusal unless one wished to forfeit rank outright.
Almost immediately, a spatial vortex manifested in front of both clans.
The distortion spiraled outward in controlled rotation, forming a stable entrance into the designated combat pocket dimension.
Without hesitation, both clans stepped forward.
Xyra's side consisted of six members—including Astreo.
The Jade Dragon Clan fielded five.
That numerical difference meant one of Xyra's members would remain unused if the battle devolved into standard five-versus-five engagement.
However, the formation of their lineup made it clear that Xyra had no intention of dragging this into a prolonged clan skirmish.
The moment they crossed the vortex threshold, their surroundings shifted.
They now stood beneath a vast, seemingly endless orange sky.
The atmosphere was dense yet breathable.
Far below them stretched an immense body of water, calm on the surface but immeasurably deep.
There were no mountains, no structures—just open expanse.
A neutral battlefield.
No terrain advantage.
No external interference.
"I will fight," Xyra declared.
Her tone left no room for discussion.
The implication was clear: she intended to settle this personally.
The Jade Dragon Clan leader stepped forward in response, his aura rising steadily as he prepared himself. He understood her intent immediately.
This would not be a drawn-out exchange between subordinates.
This would be a leader-versus-leader confrontation.
Without waiting for instruction, the remaining clan members on both sides withdrew toward the edge of the pocket dimension.
As they approached the boundary layer, a translucent dimensional barrier wrapped around each of them automatically.
The barrier functioned as containment.
It would shield observers from the shockwaves, elemental backlash, and destructive aftermath of the clash between two Mid-Emperors.
No one intended to be collateral damage.
The battlefield was set.
And the first decisive clash of the Gathering was about to begin.
In the very next second, Xyra's figure distorted and expanded.
Her demi-human form vanished as overwhelming draconic energy erupted outward.
She transformed into her true form—the Abyssal Fire Chaos Dragon.
Her colossal body rose instantly, towering several kilometers in height.
Dark, flame-lined scales covered her massive frame, each plate radiating controlled chaos energy.
When she spread her wings, they extended across dozens of kilometers.
Part of their enormity came from her deliberate display—she stretched them fully, asserting dominance through sheer presence.
The air within the pocket dimension trembled under the pressure of her aura.
Across from her, the Jade Dragon Clan leader underwent his own transformation.
His body elongated and reshaped into a massive serpentine dragon form stretching across dozens of kilometers.
Unlike Xyra's overwhelming bulk, his structure was streamlined and flexible, built for speed and constriction rather than brute force.
His scales shimmered with a polished green brilliance, resembling refined jade under sunlight.
The surface reflected the orange sky with an eerie glow.
He let out a deep roar.
Green flames ignited around his entire body, enveloping him in a burning aura that did not consume his scales but instead intensified their luster.
The flames did not flicker wildly; they flowed smoothly across him like living energy.
Two Mid-Emperors stood facing one another.
The abyssal chaos fire of black and crimson against the radiant jade inferno of emerald green.
For a brief moment, neither moved.
They observed each other.
Then the hesitation ended.
Their bodies lunged forward simultaneously.
The clash began.
The serpentine Jade Dragon did not waste time.
The moment the clash began, he opened his jaws and unleashed a concentrated beam of green energy.
The attack was not pure flame—it was a fusion of mana, fire, and plant-elemental energy compressed into a destructive laser.
The beam tore through the orange sky, distorting the surrounding space as it shot directly toward Xyra.
Xyra responded instantly.
Her massive jaws parted, and a pitch-black beam of abyssal dragon breath erupted forward.
The darkness within the beam was not mere absence of light—it was condensed chaos fire, dense enough to warp the air around it.
The two attacks collided mid-air.
For a fraction of a second, there was silence.
Then the impact detonated.
A blinding explosion illuminated the entire pocket dimension.
The shockwave rippled outward violently, and the temperature in the battlefield surged by millions of degrees in an instant.
Even the protective dimensional barriers around the observing dragons trembled under the residual force.
But neither Mid-Emperor retreated.
Within seconds, the battlefield devolved into rapid exchanges.
Xyra and the Jade Dragon clashed at speeds that blurred perception.
Their colossal bodies moved with terrifying agility despite their size.
Claw met scale.
Tail collided with coils.
Breath attacks erupted at close range.
In mere moments, they had exchanged thousands of strikes.
Each collision carried force comparable to hydrogen-level detonation.
Every impact distorted space within the pocket dimension, forcing the stabilizing laws to compensate continuously.
The Jade Dragon attempted to constrict, his elongated body whipping around to bind Xyra's torso.
Green flames intensified along his scales, seeking to burn through her defenses.
Xyra countered with raw physical dominance.
Her clawed tail—thick, armored, and lined with chaotic fire—whipped across the battlefield with devastating precision.
The strike connected solidly against the Jade Dragon's midsection.
The impact sent him hurtling sideways.
His massive body smashed violently into the dimensional boundary wall.
The barrier shuddered under the collision, ripples spreading across its surface like cracks in reinforced glass.
Observers tightened their stances despite their protective shields.
Astreo watched calmly.
There was no fear in his expression.
He trusted Xyra's strength.
She had not ascended to Mid-Emperor through luck.
And even in the unlikely scenario that she lost—
He would intervene.
If necessary, he would defeat the Jade Dragon Clan entirely on his own, since this was a five versus five until one side forfeited or it was helpless to continue the fight.
But for now, he remained still.
This was her battle.
As the blinding light from their previous collision faded, the true state of the battlefield became visible.
Xyra's massive draconic body bore visible damage.
Deep scratches and jagged gashes ran across her dark scales, some plates cracked, others torn loose.
Thick, violet blood seeped from several wounds, steaming as it touched the heated air of the pocket dimension.
Across from her, the Jade Dragon was not unharmed either.
A devastating claw-shaped mark carved across his serpentine body where Xyra's tail had struck him.
Entire sections of his jade-like scales had been ripped away, exposing raw flesh beneath.
The wound stretched for kilometers along his elongated frame.
Rage exploded from him.
"You FUCKING BITCH!" the Jade Dragon roared, his voice shaking the battlefield.
His body began spinning violently, coiling upward like a massive cyclone.
Green fire erupted around him at full intensity, merging into a colossal tornado of blazing emerald flames.
The storm expanded rapidly, stretching across thousands of kilometers within the pocket dimension.
The already-scorched atmosphere ignited further.
All the water below evaporated instantly, the ocean surface vanishing under the sheer heat.
Steam filled the lower layers of the battlefield, only to be consumed by the expanding inferno.
The entire dimension became a vortex of hellish green fire.
Xyra did not retreat.
Instead, she grinned.
Her massive maw split open, violet flames trailing from the corners of her mouth.
The purple fire did not flicker wildly—it burned steadily, almost calmly.
Then she opened her jaws wider.
Wider.
The Jade Dragon's eyes widened in shock.
A powerful suction force erupted from Xyra's mouth.
The raging green inferno began to distort, the spiraling flames bending unnaturally toward her.
The tornado that had engulfed the battlefield started collapsing inward.
She was devouring it.
The domain advantage the Jade Dragon had attempted to establish—his overwhelming elemental pressure—was being swallowed whole.
Vast sections of the green storm vanished into Xyra's abyssal maw as if consumed by a void.
Astreo watched from the protective barrier, completely unshaken.
For a brief moment, however, he blinked.
The visual triggered an unintended association in his mind.
He exhaled slowly.
'Damn… I really need to calm down,' he thought dryly.
'Maybe I should finally spend some proper bed time with my wife instead of just cultivating.'
He clicked his tongue internally and refocused.
Back on the battlefield, nearly half of the Jade Dragon's massive storm had already disappeared.
His domain control—
Gone.
The battlefield shifted in an instant.
The raging emerald flames vanished.
A suffocating darkness spread across the entire pocket dimension as shadow blanketed the sky.
The temperature plummeted abruptly, replacing the infernal heat with oppressive stillness.
The Jade Dragon's movements faltered.
"I–Impossible!" he roared, disbelief evident in his voice.
Xyra's domain had fully manifested.
Her Abyssal Fire Chaos Domain expanded outward, suppressing his weakened territory with overwhelming force.
The remnants of his green inferno were swallowed by shadow and chaotic flame, stripped of authority and control.
From the observer's barrier, Astreo watched without surprise.
He could not help but think that the Jade Dragon had miscalculated fundamentally.
Xyra had deliberately refrained from activating her domain at the start of the battle.
She had waited. S
he allowed him to expand his own, encouraged him to pour everything into strengthening his territory.
Then she devoured half of it.
By the time she released her domain, his foundation was already compromised.
What he had believed to be a buff had turned into a double debuff.
Her racial ability was borderline unfair.
The moment his domain weakened, hers crushed it completely.
Before the Jade Dragon could stabilize himself, Xyra's maw ignited again.
This time, it was not chaotic black fire.
A concentrated beam of aurora-like energy erupted forward—an intense fusion of abyssal flame and compressed chaos mana.
The beam cut through the dimmed battlefield instantly, striking the Jade Dragon head-on.
There was no prolonged struggle.
The impact detonated across his serpentine body, shredding what remained of his defenses.
Then—
The pocket dimension dissolved.
The battlefield vanished.
In the next instant, all participants reappeared at the main Gathering platform atop Memo's coiled body.
The Jade Dragon stood in his human form, barely conscious.
His aura flickered weakly.
His body trembled as if on the brink of collapse.
His clan members looked equally shaken.
Memo's voice resonated across the platform.
"The winner is the Black Fire Dragon Clan."
There was no embellishment.
No dramatic pause.
Just an official declaration.
Immediately after, a golden light descended upon the Jade Dragon.
Memo's Divine restoration ability activated effortlessly.
The catastrophic injuries that had nearly ended him moments ago vanished.
Flesh restored. Scales regenerated. Aura stabilized.
Within seconds, he returned to his peak condition—as if he had never been on the verge of death.
The Gathering continued.
But the statement had already been made.
The Black Fire Dragon Clan was no longer an Outer Valley footnote.
They were a legitimate Inner Valley contender.
"Yes! We won!" Nemonia exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement.
Her voice carried slightly farther than it should have.
A single sharp glance from Xyra was enough to silence her instantly.
This was not a place for open celebration.
Xyra did not want her daughter cheering as if their entire existence revolved around a single victory.
Dragons were observant and competitive.
Visible overexcitement could be interpreted as insecurity or desperation.
And in this gathering, any sign of weakness invited immediate targeting.
Nemonia straightened her posture at once, shrinking back into composure.
Meanwhile, Xyra's injuries—already far less severe than the Jade Dragon's—were fully restored by Memo's divine healing.
The faint traces of violet blood vanished.
Her aura returned to absolute stability. In seconds, she stood in perfect condition once more.
She walked toward Astreo.
A small, satisfied smile appeared on her face.
"Did I do well enough, darling?" she asked.
Astreo did not answer verbally.
Instead, he stepped forward, lifted her chin slightly, and pressed his lips against hers.
The gesture was direct and unapologetic.
They kissed openly on the platform, their earlier battle intensity shifting into something far more personal.
It was not subtle, and it was certainly not hidden.
Nemonia looked away awkwardly.
Watching her own mother kiss a man younger than her granddaughter created a complicated expression on her face.
She cleared her throat lightly but said nothing.
Xyra's appearance had changed recently as well.
In her new demi-human form, she had altered the shape and color of her horns slightly.
Her ears were now more pointed than before.
As a dragon capable of minor physical adjustments in this form, she had chosen features she believed would align better with Astreo's preferences.
After several moments, Astreo and Xyra separated.
Both of them exhaled slowly, their breathing slightly heavier—not from exhaustion, but from restrained tension.
They understood what was building between them.
But this was not the place.
Not in the middle of the Dragon Clan Gathering.
Composure returned to their expressions as they stepped back into position.
The competition was still ongoing.
After their decisive victory, Xyra did not issue any further challenges.
There was no need.
They had made their statement clearly.
Pushing further would only attract unnecessary hostility from higher-ranked clans, and Astreo had no intention of escalating matters prematurely.
Their objective was stable ascension—not reckless domination.
One by one, the remaining clans completed their battles within the pocket dimensions.
Victories were claimed.
Defeats were endured.
Memo restored every injured dragon to perfect condition after each match, maintaining strict neutrality throughout.
Once the final confrontation concluded, the platform grew silent.
Memo's colossal golden head lowered slightly, lightning tracing along his scales as he prepared to deliver the official rankings.
He began from the Outer Valley.
Clan names were called out in order.
Their progress was summarized briefly, and each was assigned a designated region for the next hundred years.
Territory allocation meant access to resources, elemental concentrations, breeding grounds, and influence.
The announcements progressed steadily.
Outer Valley rankings were finalized first.
Then Memo moved on to the Inner Valley.
Tension returned to the platform.
This was where true influence was decided.
Finally, his voice resonated again.
"Black Fire Dragon Clan."
All eyes shifted toward Xyra's group.
"They are officially ranked ninth out of the seventeen Inner Valley clans."
A subtle wave of reaction rippled through the assembly.
Not near the bottom.
Ninth.
Directly in the middle of the Inner Valley hierarchy.
"And they will be allocated the Charred Fire Vein Region."
The declaration was clear and final.
Then Memo continued on to the next clan without pause.
Behind Astreo, Nemonia and the three elders struggled to maintain composure.
Their excitement was barely contained.
They had not only entered the Inner Valley officially—they had secured a mid-tier position immediately.
Ranked ninth out of seventeen.
For a clan that had once lingered in the Outer Valley, this was a monumental leap.
But Xyra remained calm.
Astreo remained even calmer.
A ranking was temporary.
Power was permanent.
As the final region assignments were completed, Memo concluded the assembly.
The Dragon Clan Gathering officially ended.
The next hundred years of hierarchy had been decided.
To be continued...
(A/N: Fahhhh)