欧美牲交aⅴ俄罗斯

Francis stood beside her, hands clenched into fists, his usual bravado absent as he stared skyward. Leah, the eldest, had just returned from the Imperial Sect and stood slightly apart, watching her father with a mix of confusion and concern.

"So, it\'s beginning," Griffith murmured, his voice barely audible over the soft breeze, as if speaking the words aloud made the looming danger more real.

Leah turned her head slowly, eyes narrowing as she studied her father\'s expression. "Are you really considering giving up the throne, Father?" she asked, her voice quiet yet laden with disbelief. Her hands fidgeted, fingers gripping the edges of her long sleeves as if seeking some form of comfort.

It was hard for her to reconcile the idea of her proud, steadfast father even contemplating such a drastic move.

Griffith let out a long, weary sigh, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He didn\'t answer right away, the silence stretching between them like a chasm. Finally, he tore his gaze from the sky and looked at Leah, his eyes filled with a weariness she hadn\'t seen before. His face, usually stern and resolute, softened for a brief moment.

"It is the perilous situation we find ourselves in, my child," he said, his voice carrying a heavy sadness. "We don\'t have much of a choice anymore."

As he spoke, he lifted a hand to rub his temples, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. The mere thought of abdicating—something he had never considered in all his years—gnawed at him like a slow, painful realization he couldn\'t outrun. His hand fell back to the railing, gripping it tightly, as if the solid stone beneath his fingers was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Leah frowned, her brows knitting together as she glanced at Mabel. Her younger sister stood silently, her gaze distant but unwavering, as if her mind was far beyond the current moment, lost in future visions. Leah felt a knot tighten in her chest; everything seemed to be spiraling out of control, and no one was offering her the reassurance she craved.

Francis, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice low and bitter. "So that\'s it, then? We\'re just going to let everything we\'ve built crumble?" He glanced at Griffith, his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes flashing with frustration. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by a rare vulnerability he tried to mask. "This throne, this Empire—it\'s who we are."

Griffith didn\'t look at him. He didn\'t need to. He had already wrestled with those very same thoughts. "This Empire will fall, whether I remain on the throne or not," he replied, his voice rough with resignation. "I will not risk losing all of you to protect something that is already lost."

Mabel finally broke her silence, turning her head slightly to look at her father. Her voice was calm but carried an undeniable certainty. "Father is right, Francis. The throne, the Empire... they won\'t matter soon." She glanced at Leah, offering a small nod of reassurance, though her face remained unreadable. "What\'s coming is bigger than all of this."

Leah swallowed hard, her throat tightening. She could see the resolve in her father\'s eyes, the unspoken truth in Mabel\'s words. The Empire was teetering on the edge, and it wasn\'t just about power anymore—it was about survival. But the fear of letting go, of abandoning everything their family had stood for, weighed heavily on her.

Beastaria

The Dragon King paced restlessly back and forth across his grand throne room, his heavy footsteps echoing in the vast chamber. His scales shimmered under the dim light of the braziers, and his sharp eyes, usually full of command and authority, now flickered with impatience.

His hands were clasped tightly behind his back, claws tapping rhythmically as if the motion could distract him from the anxiety gnawing at his heart. Every few seconds, he would glance toward the grand doors, waiting for news that seemed to take an eternity to arrive.

Finally, the great doors creaked open, and a bloodhound beast man entered, his body tense and his ears flattened slightly against his head. The Dragon King immediately spun around, his tail whipping through the air with barely contained agitation. His golden eyes locked onto the bloodhound, cutting off any formalities before they could begin.

"Did you find him?" the Dragon King demanded, his voice low but trembling with barely restrained emotion. He stepped toward the bloodhound, closing the distance between them with predatory grace, his gaze boring into the beast man. "My boy... where is he? Tell me!" His words came out rapid-fire, desperation lacing every syllable.

His imposing frame seemed even larger as he loomed over his subordinate, his usually regal demeanor fraying at the edges.

The bloodhound beast man, eyes cast downward, exhaled softly. He could feel the weight of the Dragon King\'s gaze, the suffocating pressure of a ruler who was not accustomed to being denied what he wanted. A flash of guilt flickered in his eyes before he closed them, bracing himself for what was to come. His claws flexed at his sides, and he swallowed hard before speaking.

"I\'m afraid, my lord..." he began, hesitating for a moment, knowing his next words would not be received well. He glanced up briefly, only to find the Dragon King\'s intense gaze still locked on him, filled with an impatient fury that made his fur bristle. The bloodhound\'s tail twitched, betraying his nervousness as he prepared himself for the king\'s inevitable wrath. "I have failed you.

He is nowhere to be found."

As the words left his mouth, the Dragon King froze. His eyes widened for a brief second before narrowing into slits, his jaw clenched so tightly that the veins in his neck pulsed visibly. The air around him seemed to grow heavier, more dangerous, as if his very aura was trembling with the threat of unleashed power.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, a deep growl rumbling in his throat, but he held himself back—barely.

"You *failed*?" he repeated, his voice dangerously soft now, as if the full force of his rage was simmering just below the surface. His nostrils flared, and his tail lashed behind him, a clear sign of his growing frustration. His fists clenched and unclenched as if he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

The bloodhound flinched but kept his head bowed, his heart racing in his chest. He dared not speak again, knowing that any more words might only fuel the Dragon King\'s anger. He waited, every muscle in his body tense, unsure if he would be able to leave this room unscathed.

The Dragon King took a deep breath, his gaze still fixed on the bloodhound, though the initial storm of fury seemed to subside into something colder, something far more dangerous. "You will find him," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of an absolute command. "Or I will find someone else who can."

The bloodhound nodded, his body rigid as he quickly bowed and backed away, not daring to meet the Dragon King\'s eyes again. As he turned to leave, he could feel the intensity of the Dragon King\'s gaze still burning into his back, like a predator watching its prey. He swallowed hard and disappeared through the doors, knowing that failure would not be forgiven a second time.

The Dragon King let out a heavy sigh as he moved toward his throne, the weight of his enormous frame causing the marble floor beneath him to tremble slightly with each step. His once-proud shoulders slumped, and the fierce glow of his eyes dimmed with a mix of frustration and regret.

His tail, which usually swayed with the force of his authority, now dragged behind him like a heavy chain, reflecting the burden he carried in his heart.

As he reached the grand, ornate throne that had been his for centuries, he paused, running a hand over the intricately carved dragon heads that adorned its arms. His fingers traced the familiar shapes, but his thoughts were far away.

A deep frown creased his brow, and his chest tightened as old memories resurfaced—memories of a time when he had been absent, too consumed by duty and power to be the father his son needed.

With another sigh, he lowered himself into the throne, his massive frame sinking into the cushioned seat as if the weight of the world pressed down on him. His usually piercing gaze softened, and for a moment, the great Dragon King looked more like a tired old man than the fearsome ruler of a continent.

He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, and clasped his hands together in front of him.

"Where are you, brat?" he muttered under his breath, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and worry. His brows furrowed deeper, and his eyes scanned the empty room as if searching for an answer that would not come. His claws drummed lightly against his knees, a restless movement that betrayed his unease.

"This is not a safe time to be wandering around," he continued, his voice softening with a note of desperation. The usual command and authority in his tone had faded, replaced by the quiet plea of a father who feared for his child. "The Divine Plane is going to be a mess very soon, and I won\'t be able to protect you if you\'re not close to me."

He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, as though trying to steady himself. When he opened them again, there was a glint of sorrow in his golden irises—regret for the years lost, for the bond that had been neglected. His jaw clenched as he forced down the lump in his throat, refusing to let his emotions fully overtake him.

"That\'s the least I could do for you," he murmured quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. His voice wavered, heavy with guilt. "For all the years I failed to be a father to you."

His eyes glazed over as he stared off into the distance, the silence of the throne room weighing heavily on him. The grandeur and power of his position felt hollow in that moment, as the only thing that truly mattered was beyond his reach—his son, somewhere out there, facing dangers that even he, the mighty Dragon King, might not be able to shield him from.

For the first time in a long time, he felt helpless.