Supreme BeastTamer: I Can Copy and Upgrade Skills 10x!

King Dracos didn't think the Light Monarch's absence was a coincidence. He gritted his teeth, a vein throbbing on his temple.

"That bastard... he's up to no good. Despite my warnings, he still decided to go against the rules of the competition."

Naturally, he didn't remain seated. With every passing second, the possibility of the Light Dragon Monarch discovering Nox's true identity increased.

Below the king's balcony, Nox and the rest of the Frostpire Team continued watching the fight, witnessing the one-sided beatdown orchestrated by a single person.

Raziel Volatoris.

Raziel Volatoris was one of the rumored geniuses of the Dragon Kingdom. Because of this, Nox paid close attention to him, knowing there was a high probability they would face each other in the next round.

As he watched the battle, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to possess a lightning-elemental beast.

'I could easily get one. All I have to do is kill one of the lightning dragons and extract their elemental cores. Then, I can proceed to turn one of my magical beasts into an elemental beast.'

Nox's thoughts swirled as he analyzed the battlefield, his gaze never wavering.

'But...' His eyes narrowed, a sharp gleam passing through them. 'That's easier said than done. Right now, there are too many eyes on Frostpire. Even if I wanted to carry out something like this, it would be incredibly difficult under the watchful gazes of so many people.'

While lost in thought, Nox failed to notice the mysterious figure beside him, who was paying very close attention to his chest area. However, the figure did it so subtly that it was difficult to detect, appearing engrossed in the ongoing fights outside.

It was for this precise reason that even the Frost Dragon Monarch merely glanced past the area where the Frostpire team stood, finding nothing too suspicious.

On the battlefield, after witnessing what happened to their teammates, the remaining six warriors charged at the Lightning Dragon Prince. Their attacks were coordinated, their movements precise, but to the spectators, it looked as though they were moving in slow motion compared to the Lightning Prince.

Raziel ducked beneath a punch, his body twisting like a bolt of lightning itself. A single sweep of his sword sent three warriors skidding backward, their armor scorched from the sheer intensity of his attack.

Terrion roared, slamming his foot into the ground. The entire arena shook as jagged rock formations erupted, attempting to trap Raziel in place.

Yet, before they could even touch him, Raziel flickered out of existence.

A flash of blue lightning streaked through the battlefield, and suddenly, Terrion was airborne—Raziel's knee driven into his gut. The Earth Dragon leader coughed up blood as he hurtled backward, slamming into the ground with a thunderous crash.

Silence fell over the coliseum.

One man.

Eight warriors.

A single exchange was all it took.

The match officiator checked on the Earth Dragon team. Although the Dragon Prince hadn't outright killed them, he had left them so severely incapacitated that they wouldn't be able to fight for days.

Raziel stood tall at the center of the platform, resting his greatsword on his shoulder, arcs of electricity dancing across his frame. His electric-blue eyes scanned the fallen warriors before settling on Terrion, who was struggling to rise.

"Pathetic," Raziel muttered, turning away.

The match was over before it had even begun.

Even after the match ended, Nox's gaze lingered on the broad shoulders of the Lightning Dragon Prince. The latter hadn't shown too much of his skill—a deliberate move to keep his potential opponents from seeing all his tricks—but even the little he displayed was enough for Nox to consider him a major threat in this competition.

As the spectators began to leave the arena, one man remained in his seat. It was the mysterious figure who had been sitting close to Nox the entire time.

Gradually, the crowd in the arena thinned. Within a couple of hours, the once-lively coliseum was completely empty.

With the vacant spectator seats and the deserted fighting platform, the arena now looked as though it had been abandoned for years.

"Strange..."

A single word escaped the man's lips. Then, slowly, he removed his attire piece by piece, revealing shimmering white hair and piercing eyes that held a profound wisdom far older than his youthful appearance suggested.

Naturally, this person was none other than the Light Dragon Monarch—Thomas Celestis

"In such close proximity, I finally sensed it..." Thomas muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. "So the boy's amulet is an elemental core."

A thoughtful expression crossed his features.

"Is there something we don't know?" Thomas's eyes narrowed slightly, a sharp glint flashing through them. "That Dracos... he's always been secretive with his dealings. Among all the monarchs, he's the one who has spent the most time outside the Dragon Realm. I'm certain he knows things we don't."

His gaze darkened.

"And that amulet... I'm very sure it's not just any ordinary artifact. Could it be the reason for that boy's insane ice control?"

Most of the monarchs had believed the Frost Monarch's story about Kawl, but Thomas didn't. After all, he knew just how cunning the Frost Dragon was.

Even among the eight Dragon Monarchs, Thomas considered Dracos the most dangerous. The strongest? That was debatable—no monarch would ever admit to being the weakest.

However, when they were younger, there had been a time when one of them had been acknowledged as the strongest.

That dragon was none other than the current Frost Monarch—Dracos—who had bested all of them to emerge victorious in the Competition of Kingdoms.

"Father."

Suddenly, Thomas heard a soft, childish voice behind him.

"What are you doing here alone?"

A young girl, around ten to thirteen years old, stood there, her innocent eyes boring deep into her father's own.

A warm smile slowly appeared on Thomas's face, and his eyes lit up as he gazed at his daughter.

And at that moment, an idea—no, a very good idea—took root in his mind.

***

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