Chapter 416 Destiny? It's Just an Excuse for the Weak

A dull look appeared in Imrik's eyes, wondering what the ancestor meant by this.

If deduced according to logic, a person predicted by the ancient saint will appear in the dragon tamer family, and the prerequisite for identifying this person is to walk out of the Dragon Sleeping Temple.

And this kind of escape is definitely not like the ancestor Caledor II and those before him, relying on the protection of the legendary dragon horn, he passed the dragon lord trial by relying on the ox-hide book.

An extreme sense of absurdity appeared in my heart. Everything had been arranged long ago. All I had to do was wait for the two souls of Wang Boming and Imrik to no longer differentiate between each other and become who they are now.

With an incredible look in his eyes, Imric looked at Caledor Dragon Tamer, who was smiling in front of him, and said, "Ancestor, so is this all arranged? I just entered the game as a pawn. Waiting for the arrangements predicted by the ancient saints?"

Caledor Dragon Tamer stretched out his hand to gently enchant the descendant's angular cheeks, and his tone returned to its original coldness, "Child, as my blood descendant, why do you have such thoughts? Caledor does not worship Asuryan. , Destiny is just an excuse for the weak! Your appearance only matches the predictions of the ancient saints, but this does not mean that you will fulfill it."

Suddenly, the dragon tamer's tone became excited, and his cold eyes were full of enthusiasm. When he looked up, he seemed to be able to see the sky flying six thousand years ago through a dream, "Sad fate! You are wearing makeup like an old prostitute in vain. Your wrinkled face, you ring the fool's bell in vain; you bore me; it's the same old words, the same same thing. No change, always the same old words. Come, save sleep and death , you promise nothing and you fulfill everything.”

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

Caledor Dragon Tamer retracted his palm, turned around in the sight of the Bloodborn, and turned to look at the mural at the top of the dragon hall. It was a trace of his lifelong battles and had never been forgotten.

"The fate of our family will never be like this. Understand! Change! Control!" The dragon tamer walked towards his Dragon Claw Throne, and his body began to become illusory from his legs.

After a short journey of less than twenty meters, he gently touched the throne where he once sat, and his whole body turned into a wisp of smoke and disappeared.

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

No matter what the reason is, as long as it hinders you, you will not hesitate to eradicate it.

What nonsense prophecy of the ancient saint is just a group of runaway guys. The world will be dominated by themselves, not an illusory prophecy.

After firming up his faith, Imric walked to the Dragon Claw Throne and sat down. Looking at the familiar yet unfamiliar environment around him and the empty hall, he issued the declaration of the Dragon Lord,

"Everyone should surrender to Caledor. Only we can save this precarious world. If anyone obstructs us, kill us. If anyone resists, conquer us. We have this power. It is innate." ! Only in this way can the power of Caledor be demonstrated!"

His hand hit the iron handrail hard, making a dull echo in response to these words.

The dream began to fade away, after a conversation that no one knew existed.

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

"Kryon."

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

"Prince."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Five hours."

Regarding the comparison of time flow between dreams and reality, Imrik was not interested in considering the secrets involved. He just ordered the Flameborn Knight to bring someone over.

"Raskol, let this Kisli lady come to me."

"yes."

Although Creon didn't understand why the prince wanted to see a Kisli lady at this time, he still accepted the order.

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

However, the strange feeling 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 relatively clean set of clothes under the advice of several familiar Claws of Patunyuen soldiers, and seize the time to clean his body and armor.

Although Imric didn't care about complicated etiquette, as long as his attitude was in place, he would often not question his soldiers.

But Rascal still knew that if he ran up to the prince with a stink all over his body, he might be beaten violently by the dragon princes in golden armor as soon as he came out.

After washing his body with clean water and some plant juices, Raskol came to the prince's residence with an uneasy mood. 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 Raskol to the prince's residence, a more private place rather than a living room or office that was a more public place.

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

And Creon did not hesitate. Even if two hundred barbarian sergeants were in front of the prince, they would probably be killed with bare hands in just a few minutes. He was here more as a symbolic guard than as a real prince. Worried about assassination.

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

The sergeant was still a little nervous. He could feel that there was a big difference between Imrik now and in Kislev before. The scarlet eyes vaguely revealed a terrifying murderous intent.

Years of fighting made the sergeant understand that this bloodthirsty desire was not directed at him. It was just an unconscious gaze, not at all like the majesty of the dragon before.

After Rascal saluted first, he dared to sit on the chair and said in some Elvish language he had learned in the past few years, "Your Highness, your loyal soldier Rascal is reporting to you."

"Very good, I'm glad you survived in Lustria. How do you feel about this time?" Imrik leaned against the window, crossing his arms and looking at the sergeant.

There was no intention to export ideology to Kislev soldiers before because they were afraid of giving Tzeentch an advantage, as well as some variables that were difficult to control.

But after experiencing the dream of communicating with the ancestors just now, I suddenly found that the so-called concerns were extremely ridiculous. Since I wanted to play something big, it would be even crazier.