Talent Awakening: Draconic Overlord Of The Apocalypse

Capítulo 525: The Overlord Claims His Right

Just then, another portal rippled into existence—though smaller, more controlled, almost casual in the way it unfurled.

From it stepped a man with neatly tousled black hair and deep blue eyes with gear-shaped pupils that gleamed. He wore a tactical-looking outfit, its dark plates and layered fabrics blending into a long black trench coat. A stylized gear symbol was emblazoned on his back, and small devices clicked and whirred quietly at his belt.

Unlike the dragon generals before him, he moved with an easy, almost lazy grace. As he approached Alister, a relaxed smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

The audience began to murmur at once.

“Who is that…?”

“He doesn’t look like a dragon…”

“A human? Here, with them?”

Draven’s head turned slightly, but he made no move to interfere. The stranger merely offered Alister a low, respectful bow.

“As you ordered, my lord,” he said. “I’ve interfaced with the broadcast nodes across this megacity. The feed will be linked into the public systems of all nine neighboring megacities as well. Once you give the word, your address will be streamed to hundreds of millions—live.”

He looked up, his easy smile widening just a notch, a hint of playful pride there. “All it needs is your signal to begin.”

Alister regarded him with a faint nod. “You’ve done well, Quinton.”

Quinton’s grin brightened, almost boyish despite the serious circumstances. “A pleasure to serve, sir.”

With that, he stepped back into line, folding his arms behind his back in a surprisingly disciplined stance, eyes half-lidded but alert.

Alister took a slow breath, then turned fully to face the assembled crowd—his golden eyes seeming to shine even more brightly under the grand hall’s lights. His cape stirred faintly as he walked to the very edge of the podium, boots echoing against the marble.

For a heartbeat, he glanced sideways at Quinton, giving the barest of signals. Quinton’s hand darted to a small device at his belt, tapping it once. High above, the broadcast indicator blinked live.

Then Alister spoke, his voice low yet powerful, threading into every speaker, every hovering drone mic, every screen in Sector Zero and beyond.

“People of the Union…”

“I am Alister Hazanworth. Or at least… that is the name by which many of you know me.”

Alister paused only a moment, then continued.

“My actual name is Alister Vaen Solaren. Overlord of Dragons.”

For a second that seemed to stretch forever, the entire grand hall was utterly still.

Then—like a dam shattering—whispers erupted. People turned to each other in disbelief. Eyes went wide. Hands flew to mouths. Some looked as if they’d forgotten how to breathe.

Because everyone knew that surname: Vaen Solaren. Even if most had never seen the Union President’s face in person—his name was burned into the very foundation of their civilization. Galisk Vaen Solaren, the man who had created the Union, who ended old wars… who was now presumed dead, slain by conspiracies still shrouded in rumor.

And this man—this terrifying, dragon-commanding figure who had just taken the director hostage—was claiming to be his son.

Some of the more powerful leaders in the stands began murmuring to each other under tight, shocked expressions.

Across Skybridge Plaza, on the massive split-screen billboard, Lana Myre and Kael Strix were staring at each other, microphones nearly forgotten.

Kael finally broke the stunned silence, spluttering, “See? I knew exactly where this was going. He’s laying the groundwork to seize the entire Union—by claiming his father was once in charge. Who’s even going to believe this? Who just pops up out of nowhere and says, ‘Hey, I’m secretly the son of the Union President’?”

Lana looked troubled, brow knit. “…It is hard to believe. He’s never had any public profile. There’s barely anything about him online. It almost feels manufactured.”

Kael jabbed a hand at her, eyes wide. “Thank you! Finally! You’re seeing it. This is a blatant power grab with a convenient story.”

But Lana didn’t pull away. Instead, she exhaled, eyes narrowing slightly as she watched Alister on the screen.

“…And yet,” she said softly, “I can’t see why he would lie. He didn’t have to reveal this at all. He was already strong enough to impose his will by force. Why add a false story? It doesn’t benefit him unless it’s true.”

Kael’s mouth dropped open. “Are you serious? Lana, after all of this—you’re still trying to give him the benefit of the doubt?”

Lana’s lips pressed into a thin line, her blue eyes never leaving the image of Alister standing with terrifying composure atop the dais.

“I’m saying,” she whispered, “that if he is telling the truth… then this is bigger than just one city’s fears. This is about the future of the entire Union.”

Back in the hall, countless more murmurs rose to a desperate pitch. Some in the crowd looked skeptical, others horrified, others oddly relieved—because if it was true, then maybe all this chaos still followed some ancient line of right.

Alister stood silent for a breath longer, letting the ripples of shock spread like cracks across ice—knowing he had every eye, every screen, every heart straining to hear what he would say next.

Then he drew a slow, measured breath, and spoke again.

“And as such… I intend to step into the role my father once held. To fill the void he left behind. To ensure the public’s safety—because as I’m sure many of you have seen firsthand, the crisis we now face is not one that can be ignored or endlessly debated.”

His golden gaze swept over them, lingering on faces in the front rows.

“The mist has already claimed countless lives. It has torn families apart, stolen the people most precious to us, and left entire districts on edge, waiting to see who will vanish next.”

A subtle shiver seemed to ripple through the room. Some instinctive, primal reaction.

“But what most of you do not understand… is that this mist is more than a natural disaster. It is not some accident of mana, nor a random curse that simply settled upon our world.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing, his right hand lifting slightly as if weighing invisible truths.

“It is the herald… of something far worse.”