The iron-gray Dragon-kin knelt on the ground, his lips trembling slightly, yet he could not utter a single word.
The old Dragon-kin looked at him, a faint dark-red glimmer flickering in his vertical pupils.
"You've mastered the Judgment Art I gave you, haven't you?"
"Then that's enough."
The old Dragon-kin placed his hands back on his knees, straightening his back slightly as he adjusted himself into the final posture of his life.
"Next, go to another city and live a normal life. With the experience you've gained outside over the years, you should be able to survive in the new world." The iron-gray Dragon-kin abruptly raised his head. "Elder... you?!"
"Since the others have already been dealt with, my turn should be coming soon as well. But old relics like us still want to struggle one last time." The old Dragon-kin's tone was unusually calm. "But there's no need to drag you into it. If you can live, then don't die with us."
"I'm not leaving!"
The iron-gray Dragon-kin shot to his feet, his dragon wings spreading in an instant. Their tips scraped fiercely against the stone wall behind him, shaving off large flakes of gray-white debris.
"I..."
"This is an order."
The old Dragon-kin's voice suddenly rose.
The pressure of one who had sat in the elder's seat for far too long, long since etched into his bloodline, instantly enveloped him.
Even though his scales had withered, even though his voice had grown hoarse, even though he looked like nothing more than an old man with one foot in the grave, the commanding presence of one in authority still made the iron-gray Dragon-kin's wings involuntarily fold back against his spine.
The iron-gray Dragon-kin tried to argue, but the old Dragon-kin said nothing more. He merely looked at him quietly.