The Power of Creation
Copyright© 2026 by Vasantrutu
Chapter 16: Claim
The next day, the capital envoy departed at dawn, while another group approached from the west before noon.
They were the people of the fishing village—often called the Water Folk, as most of them possessed innate water-aligned magic. Their clothing smelled faintly of salt and river reeds, and even their movements carried the calm rhythm of tides.
They were escorted to the guest house and informed politely that the meeting area would require some time to be prepared. They accepted without complaint, accustomed to waiting and watching currents shift.
I returned home briefly for a quick meal, then made my way back to the meeting grounds.
With a thought, I revealed the model in its full glory.
The buried structure emerged smoothly, stone folding away like water retreating from shore, until the vast model of my future kingdom stood exposed once more—rings, walls, dragon zones, and pathways laid bare for all to see.
Then I sat and began to meditate.
Once inside my skill orb, I went straight to the island.
It was already waiting.
Patient. Alert. Almost eager.
Through our link, I could see the capital envoy riding gryphons toward Ironspine, their silhouettes shrinking against the horizon. Satisfied, I issued my instruction.
“Begin construction of the walls and pathways,” I told the island. “But ensure that the capital envoy sees nothing.”
The island responded with unmistakable joy.
Only then did I realize how much it had grown.
My control now extended far beyond what it once had. I could perceive nearly every detail within a sixty-kilometer radius from the center of my kingdom. Nearly—because one section remained incomplete.
The land bordering Verdant Maw’s territory cut into the circle, leaving the domain asymmetrical. A reminder that even power had limits ... for now.
As I continued observing, three groups came into view—approaching from the south, west, and north.
They arrived within two hours.
Each group was escorted to the guest house, offered rest, and informed that the meeting would commence in the evening. No objections were raised.
After the second meal, I returned to the meeting area.
The model looked ... different.
Not damaged. Not altered.
Sleeping.
Its presence felt subdued, dormant—like a coiled beast at rest.
When I placed my hand upon it, the response was immediate.
The model awakened.
The stone dragon figurines began to move.
One by one, they transformed—from lifeless stone into tiny, living dragons. Scales shimmered. Wings flexed. Eyes gleamed with mischief and curiosity.
They rose together, forming a precise formation in midair, and then bowed in unison.
In that moment, a link snapped into place.
Not domination.
Permission.
I felt it clearly—each one asking, not demanding.
They wanted to fly. To explore. To stretch their wings.
I agreed, with a single condition.
“Do not disturb the guests.”
The rest was freedom.
What followed was chaos of the gentlest kind.
High-pitched giggles echoed through the village. Shrill shrieks of excitement followed. Laughter burst out like fireworks.
Children poured from their homes, chasing the tiny dragons as they swooped and darted playfully through the air. Some dragons let themselves be caught, perching on shoulders or heads before darting away again.
For the first time since everything had begun—
The village felt alive in a way it never had before.
Not just safe.
Not just powerful.
But alive with wonder.
While I was laughing, my eyes caught sight of a familiar face.
It was the kid—the only child who had been around back when I was an apprentice in the mines under Iron Hauler. I waved him over.
“Hey, friend,” I called out. “How are you? And what’s your name?”
He hurried over, bowed deeply, and replied,
“My lord, my name is Aerin. Thank you for asking. I am well.”
I sighed inwardly.
I patted the space beside me on my left, motioning for him to sit. After a moment of hesitation, he complied. I placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke in an exaggerated pout.
“Hey, I’m not a lord. I’m just like you. Will you be my friend—and my left hand? Just like Varun Stoneward is my right hand.”
His eyes widened.
“It would be my pleasure, my lord,” he said quickly, then hesitated. “But I would need to ask my parents first. And ... what would my job be, my lord?”
I groaned softly.
“First of all, stop calling me ‘my lord.’ My name is Rowan,” I said firmly. “And your job would be simple. You’ll be my voice.”
Before Aerin could respond, I felt something shift.
Unnoticed by either of us, his parents had knelt nearby. Tears streamed down their faces—happy, relieved tears. Soft sobs reached our ears.
Aerin startled and rushed to his parents’ side. They whispered among themselves for a brief moment, then stood and approached me with resolute expressions.
“My lord,” his father said, voice steady despite the tears, “we accept this position.”
I laughed helplessly.
“Hey—stop calling me that,” I said playfully. “My name is Rowan. Now come on—let’s catch a few dragons.”
I grabbed Aerin by the hand and pulled him along before anyone could object.
And just like that, the game began.
For a while, I forgot everything.
The meetings.
The responsibilities.
The future kingdom.
I was just a ten-year-old kid again—running, laughing, tripping over my own feet as tiny dragons darted around us, squealing with delight.
Then my sister’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
“Rowan! Stop playing and prepare for the meeting. It starts in two hours!”
Every child froze. Even the dragons paused mid-flight.
“Hey, sis,” I called back cheerfully, “it’s two hours. Remind me again after one.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Rowan,” she said slowly, dangerously, “you have responsibilities. Stop playing. Get ready.”
I tried to protest—but the moment she threatened to thrash me, something unexpected happened.
The tiny dragons bristled.
Anger rippled through our link. I hurriedly calmed them with a thought—but mischief had already taken hold.
With a grin, I sent a silent command to the earth dragons.
They responded instantly.
A second later, my sister was drenched in mud from head to toe.
Silence.
Then laughter exploded everywhere.
And just like that, the games continued—for another full hour.
When the hour was finally up, every dragon froze mid-flight.
One by one, they descended.
Each child was chosen.
The tiny dragons gently landed atop their heads, curling themselves into comfortable positions before closing their eyes and falling asleep—as if utterly exhausted.
A quiet understanding flowed into my mind through the link.
Surveillance.
Not protection through force—but through presence.
Children were always the first to be harmed when families were attacked.
I swallowed, my chest tightening.
Thank you, I whispered through the link.
A gentle warmth answered me.
The remaining dragons dispersed throughout the village, settling on rooftops, trees, stone pillars—claiming places to rest and watch. Soon, only soft breathing and the faint shimmer of scales remained.
I exhaled slowly and turned toward Aerin.
Then I froze.
Perched atop his head was an Adamant-Forged Metal Chinese Dragon—its body sleek and powerful, scales layered like living armor, faint metallic runes glowing softly along its spine.
My eyes nearly popped out of my skull.
Then a slow, uncontrollable smile spread across my face.
I placed a hand on Aerin’s shoulder.
“Aerin,” I said carefully, “your first task begins now.”
He straightened instantly.
“Go find the Twelve Clans who arrived with me yesterday. Inform them that there will be a meeting in one hour. Each clan is to send one leader.”
He nodded quickly.
“Before that,” I continued, “find the Village Head and tell him I’ve requested his presence at the meeting area.”
He swallowed, nodded again.
“After delivering the messages, go freshen yourself up,” I added. “You’ll be attending the meeting as my left hand.”
His breath caught.
“Oh—and one more thing.”
He looked at me expectantly.
“Starting tomorrow, I’ll begin training you in the Ways of the Dragon.”
His eyes widened.
“You’ve been claimed by an Adamant-Forged Metal Dragon. That means your path won’t be ordinary.”
For a moment, he looked overwhelmed—but then he bowed deeply, eyes shining.
“I won’t disappoint you ... Rowan.”
With that, he turned and ran, determination burning in every step.
I watched him go for a moment longer than necessary.
Then I shook myself free of the thought, washed up quickly, and headed toward the meeting area.
As soon as I reached the meeting place, I froze mid-step.
There—upon the model—rested miniature dragons.
My breath caught.
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