Warhammer: Return of the Dragon

Chapter 416 Destiny?It's just an excuse for the weak
A dull gaze appeared in Imrik's eyes, what did the ancestors mean by these words.

If it is deduced according to logic, there will be a person predicted by the ancient sage in the dragon tamer family, and the prerequisite for authenticating this person is to walk out of the Dragon Rest Temple.

And this kind of stepping out is by no means like the ancestor Caledor II and the people before him, relying on the protection of the legendary dragon horn, he passed the trial of the dragon lord by relying on the cowhide.

A sense of extreme absurdity appeared in my heart, all this has been arranged long ago, I just need to wait for the two souls of Wang Boming and Imrik to no longer distinguish each other and become their current selves.

An incredible look appeared in his eyes, and Imrik stared at the smiling Caledor Dragon Trainer in front of him, and said, "Ancestor, so everything is arranged? I just entered the game as a pawn Waiting for the arrangement of the ancient sage's prophecy?"

Caledon Dragon Trainer stretched out his hand and gently enchanted the sharp-edged cheeks of his descendants, his tone returned to the original coldness, "Son, as my descendant, why do you have such thoughts, Caledon does not worship Asuryan , Destiny is just an excuse for the weak! Your appearance only conforms to the prophecy of the ancient sages, but this does not mean that you will fulfill it."

Suddenly, the dragon trainer's tone became agitated, his cold eyes were full of enthusiasm, and he looked up as if he could see the sky 6000 years ago through a dream, "Sad fate! You are vainly wearing makeup like an old prostitute, you Wrinkled face, you ring the fool's bell in vain; you bore me; it's still the same old saying, the same same. There's no change, always clichés. Come, but sleep and death, You promise nothing, you fulfill everything."

"Imrik, when you feel confused, remember, you will always be my descendant, the natural ruler of Caledor! The heart of the dragon beats in the heart, and the flames fill every part of the body, Let the miserable fate die! Only in this way can the name of Caledon be lived up to!"

Caledon Dragon Trainer withdrew his palm, turned around under the eyes of the bloodborn, and turned his head to look at the mural on the top of the dragon hall, which was the trace of his life's fighting and has never been forgotten.

"The fate of our family will never be like this, to understand! To change! To control!" The dragon trainer walked towards his dragon claw throne, and his body became illusory from the legs.

After a short journey of no more than 20 meters, he stroked the throne he once sat on with his hands, and his whole body turned into a puff of smoke and disappeared in place.

Imrik watched the ancestors disappear from the ancestors in front of the throne, clenched his palms, and said silently, "Live up to the name of Caledor."

No matter what the reason is, as long as there is an obstacle to oneself, it will be eradicated without hesitation.

What kind of bullshit prophecies of the ancient sages are just a group of guys running away. This world will be dominated by themselves, not an illusory prophecy.

After strengthening his faith, Imrik walked to the Dragon Claw Throne and sat upright. Looking at the familiar but somewhat unfamiliar environment around him and the empty hall, he issued the Dragon Lord's announcement,
"Everything should be surrendered to Caledon, only we can save this precarious world, if anyone obstructs, then kill; if someone resists, then conquer; we have this power, it is innate ! Only in this way can the power of Caledor be demonstrated!"

The hand thumped heavily on the iron handrail, making a dull echo as a response to these words.

The dream began to fade, after a conversation no one knew about.

Imrik opened his eyes from the chair, put the blanket covering his body back on the bed, and then closed and put the "Caledor Family History" away, intending to ask what time it is now,
"Cryon."

There was a sound of pushing the door, and Creon, who was covered in golden armor, walked in.

"Prince."

"How long have I slept?"

"Five hours."

Regarding the comparison of the time flow between the dream and reality, Imrik is not interested in thinking about the secrets, but just ordered the Flame Knight to bring someone over.
"Raskol, let this Madam Keithley come to me."

"Yes."

Although Creon didn't understand why the prince wanted to meet Mrs. Kisley at this time, he still accepted the order.

And in the stronghold far away from the prince's residence, Lasker felt a little strange why the Dragon Prince wanted to see him when it was already late at night.

But feeling strange in my heart will not interfere with the progress of this matter, after all, this is an order from the leader of the kingdom.

So he could only choose to find a set of fairly clean clothes under the advice of a few familiar Patunuin's Claw soldiers, and take the time to clean his body and armor.

Although Imrik doesn't care about cumbersome etiquette, as long as his attitude is in place, he will often not question his soldiers.

But Raskol still knew that if he ran in front of the prince with a stinky body, he might be beaten up by those dragon princes in golden armor when he came out.

After washing his body with clean water and some plant juices, Rasker came to the prince's residence with a feeling of apprehension. The last time he met alone was in Kislev, so it was inevitable that he would be a little nervous.

Following a knock on the door and Imrik's voice, Creon led Lasker to the prince's residence, a relatively private place, rather than a living room or office in a public place.

Seeing the neat and tidy Raskel coming in, Imrik signaled Creon to leave with his eyes, intending to communicate with Sergeant Kislev alone.

And Creon didn't hesitate, even if two hundred barbarian non-commissioned officers were in front of the prince, they might be killed with bare hands in just a few minutes. He was here more as a guard in a symbolic sense than the real prince. worried about assassination.

"Sit down." Imrik, who was standing at the window, pointed to a wicker chair next to him with his back to the moonlight, and motioned for the nervous Lasker to sit down.

The non-commissioned officer was still a little nervous. He could feel that there was a big difference between Imrik now and Kislev before. Those scarlet eyes faintly revealed a frightening murderous intent.

Years of fighting made the sergeant understand that this bloodthirsty desire was not aimed at him, it was just an unconscious gaze, completely different from the majesty of the dragon before.

Raskol saluted first before he dared to sit on a chair, and said in some Elvish language he had learned in the past few years, "His Royal Highness, your loyal soldier Raskol is reporting to you."

"Very well, I'm glad you survived in Lustria. How do you feel during this time?" Imrik leaned against the window, crossed his arms and looked at the sergeant.

Before, there was no intentional ideological export to the Kislev soldiers, because they were afraid that the old Tzeentch would be cheap, and there were some variables that were not easy to control.

But after the dream exchanged with the ancestors just now, I suddenly found that the so-called concerns are extremely ridiculous. Since I want to play big, it will be even crazier.

(End of this chapter)