A/N: Somehow what I had worked on this chapter magically disappeared even when I saved my progress, so annoying. Alright, this chapter is going to be a short one, but it's going to be the prelude to the Druun attacking in full force. Sit back, relax, and prepare for the coming battle!

(Normal pov— Druun's Ascended Plain)

The Druun and their totality continued to rally under the command of their master, the entity. Its real name, however, is known by only a few, those few are now either dead, scattered, or encased in stone.

The entity that commands the Druun and their totality is known as Xodar, The Malicious.

Surprisingly, Xodar was a dragon, a powerful one, he was rumored to be one of the very first dragons who walked among man in Kumandra. Like most of Kumandra's dragons, Xodar was a sentient being; able to commune with his brethren and with humans, he could shapeshift into a human, and his power brought great prosperity to Kumandra's ancestors. Throughout the centuries of peace, Xodar even eclipsed Sisudatu and her siblings, not only because he was far older and stronger, but also because the people of Kumandra revered him, one of his many powers included wielding the power of chi and allowing its power to produce life and provisions of food for the people, none went hungry and none were left wanting. However, when the Druun first invaded the mortal world, Xodar was the first line of defense, all his power and all of his great strength were nothing compared to the Druun, he was abducted from the mortal world and dragged into the Druun's own world, where his heart and mind were infected by darkness so potent that it strangled any trace of good the dragon possessed. When that happened, Xodar, who was previously known as Zhilong, The Evergiving, was killed, and he became known by the Druun, man, and dragons alike as Xodar, The Malicious. With his new name and title, he had not only slain the Druun who abducted him, but he also seemed to have some degree of control over them. Previously, the Druun was nothing more than a mindless force, no better than a pack of wild animals, but with time, Xodar had gained complete command over the Druun, becoming an entity that rules over them.

Upon returning to the mortal realm, Xodar had sworn he would drown all of humanity and dragon kind in darkness until there was nothing left of the world. With this oath of genocide, Kumandra came together to stand in the way of Xodar and the Druun, a noble effort, yet such efforts were quickly extinguished when the sheer might of Xodar was put to the test. The dragons and their paracausal might be able to hold the line for a time, but eventually, even they were overrun and overpowered by the Druun's ever-increasing numbers and Xodar's dark powers. Finally, a tipping point was reached, and it was clear that if something was not done, darkness would engulf the world. That's when Sisudatu and her siblings, the last and most powerful of the Kumandran dragons made a final stand to fight Xodar and the hordes of Druun who had devoured all of Kumandra and were seeking to expand. The battle that ensued was fierce; like a hammer coming down on an anvil, both the last dragons and Xodar smashed against each other with all their paracausality and might, but the dragons were overwhelmed by Xodar's strength, leaving them with no choice but retreat and come with a new strategy. Instead of a head-on assault, the last dragons concentrated all of their magic to create the Dragon Gem, one by one, each of the last dragons surrendered their magic until all that remained for the gem to be complete was Sisu too had to channel her magic into the gem and use it to expel the Druun from the mortal world. And she did just that, once Xodar and the Druun had been blasted out of the mortal realm, it saw them return to their own warped, twisted world for five centuries, leaving them vengeful and bloodthirsty.

Now, Xodar resided in a palace in the mountains of their dark world, seated on a black throne and illuminated by violet flames that burned bright in the braziers. He was waiting patiently for one of his servants to inform him that they were successful in the task that he had given them. The fallen dragon was in his human form, and his human form was strong; he possessed a lean, tone body that was without deformity or flaws, and even in his mortal flesh he wielded arcane abilities that put mortal sorcerers and mystics to shame. Suddenly, a soothing voice entered Xodar's mind, it was the voice of his servant, Avri, The Mindbender.

"It is done, master. The seed of madness has been planted in the mind of one that Drago Bludvist holds close to his heart."

Rising from his throne, Xodar walked towards the balcony of his throne room while also inquiring. "Satisfy my curiosity, who is this mortal that Drago Bludvist holds close to his heart?"

"Mostafa, War Chief of the Northern Alliance. He stood as Drago Bludvist's former mentor, forging him into the man that he is today."

Humming, Xodar crossed his arms behind his back while smiling to himself. "Such a bond has been cemented throughout years of battle, bloodshed, and conquest," the Druun's master then chuckled darkly. "This mortal is like a father to Drago Bludvist. Losing such an ally will cut Drago Bludvist deeply, but I will see to it personally that he experiences suffering the likes of which his feeble mind cannot fathom. You have prepared Mostafa, War Chief of the Northern Alliance for the ritual, yes?"

"I have already summoned the necessary scrolls and tomes needed for him to prepare himself for his role, he has been preparing for the ritual all night long, he will be ready to proceed this very day. I have also summoned one of our warriors for him to restrain, when Drago discovers his former mentor engrossed in his studies, the war master of the Northern Alliance will soon realize that our retribution will come severely and swiftly."

Now outside his throne room balcony, Xodar looked down upon the Druun and their totality, an ocean of hatred, bloodlust, and darkness that would wash away the feebleness of mankind. "You serve me well, Avri, continue to please me, and I will see to it that you are rewarded," the fallen dragon then spoke firmly. "Until then, sink your claws deeper into Mostafa, War Chief of the Northern Alliance, when the time comes, his death will be the catalyst of our return to the mortal world."

"Yes, master."

(Fang Nation)

As a man of strife, hardship, and brutality, Drago never cared about opulence and splendor. For women of royal position, he expected them to be pampered with such pleasures. But to find a man to wallow in such base pleasures and delights made him frown. Currently, the war master had finished bathing in the royal baths after breeding Mahalia deep in the night, her wails of torment and agony made Drago laugh, like all civilizations, cultures, and people he had conquered, he had conquered many women throughout the years, Mahalia was no different. But after bathing away his sexual conquest from the previous night, the war master found the corrupt civil servants of Fang Nation lounging in the palace's gardens, dressed in fine white and gilded robes, with gilded goblets of fine drink while also being served rich, exotic foods by servants. These civil servants were chosen by Drago to ensure his reign over Fang Nation seemed legitimate, and they would serve to ensure he kept power here and to inform him of those who would skulk in the shadows and whisper of attempting to overthrow him or rob him of his life.

Those who served Drago never indulged in pleasure or lounged in opulence unless the war master himself granted them that courtesy.

A lesson Drago's new puppets would soon learn.

Councilor Aldo, one of the council members had always resented his former rulers, he believed that Fang Nation deserved to be elevated and seen to heights that reached the heavens themselves. And so the middle-aged counselor had offered his loyalties to Drago and his Northern Alliance, swearing to the war master that he will aid in bringing the Fang Nation people into line and that he would aid in steering the flock into Drago's fold, making them even more powerful. However, Aldo, although trained to fight, was not a warrior, he was nothing but a cunning, ambitious politician who sought to see himself elevated.

Drago, however, would not tolerate his puppet's ambitions from weakening his position as the "legitimate" ruler of the imperial city.

Storming over to his puppet councilors, Drago approached Aldo and swatted the goblet in his hand, fine drink flew out of the goblet and wetted a nearby council member, staining their fine clothes. "What is this foolishness?" The war master demanded. "My men forge weapons out of the matter that can bring the Druun on their knees, they train for the battles to come, and they prepare to extend invitations to what's left of Kumandra's people to join me or die. Meanwhile, you giggle and converse like handmaidens, fattening yourselves with drink and food, and you do nothing to ensure the citizens of this city that I am now their legitimate ruler!" Drawing his sword, the madman pointed the thick blade at the nearest council member, causing them all to blanch and hold their breath. "What is your worth? If you do nothing but indulge in opulence, what use are you to me?"

"M-Master, forgive us," one councilor stammered out. "We meant no disrespect, we intend to address the people of Fang Nation's imperial city, but we were occupied—"

Snorting, the war master agreed. "Yes, you were," he then bore his teeth. "I will allow this infatuation only once, you swore to serve me and the Northern Alliance, an honor. Yet I will not tolerate those who serve me to be distracted by base pleasures and distractions, you have freedom, but that freedom comes with a price. Now, begone, and rally the people to the steps of the palace, you will address them and tell them how Virana had entrusted her power as ruler of Fang Nation to me."

"With respect, would it not be wiser than to tell the people that those who have their best interests in mind lead?" Aldo inquired with both respect and caution. "If we address you to our people's new ruler, they will suspect what transpired last night, they will see you as a threat and could possibly band together to see you dead for the blood you've shed. Should that happen—"

"Should that happen, I will spin tales of how you personally arranged Virana and the previous council's deaths," Drago threatened with a sneer. "We'll then see how your people will want to see me dead when one of their own killed their leader and those who acted on their behalf. For now, tell the people that an assassin came and slaughtered Virana and those who spoke for them. With this revelation, they will look for someone to lead them. Virana's whelp, Namaari has slipped from my men's hands, yet she runs like a coward, no one in their right mind would want to follow her. You will steer the masses to look to me for leadership and salvation, they will come and realize that I will lead them to greatness until Fang Nation becomes an appendage to the Northern Alliance."

Aldo was aware that Drago was not a man to be trifled with and one who didn't make idle threats, and so he bowed his head in submission, as did those under the war master's thumb. Grunting in satisfaction, Drago left his puppet servants to prepare to address the imperial citizens of Fang Nation.

Later on in the morning, Aldo and the new Fang Nation councilors addressed the people when they were all roused from their sleep, they were brought to the palace steps and were informed of the lie that Drago had told them to tell. Fear and panic spread among the mass of common citizens, but Aldo and the puppet council calmed their fears and told them that Drago and his Northern Alliance would be their sword and shield and that they would lead them all to prosperity like nothing they have ever seen before. Many of the people fell for such lies and some did not, while others knew Drago was either lying about an assassin killing Virana or the original council who had the people's best interests in mind, yet they kept silent and had to accept the harsh reality that Drago was their new ruler, for the time being.

Once settled in his new role, Drago quickly came to loathe the crawling pace of the court; having to hear the complaints and desires of his new subjects was insufferable and a waste of his time, but for the sake of ruling over Fang Nation, he had to tolerate such things. When he was finished dealing with his new subjects, his puppets and generals were next. He despised the tricky voices of Fang Nation courtiers as well as the serpents and schemers of his generals vying for attention and resources. Sorting out their tedious requests was like fetching lost scraping sticks from the bottom of a mud wallow.

Suddenly, one of his generals came to him with a clear complaint. "The stench from War Chieftain Mostafa's chambers permeates the entire east wing of the palace. My lovers choke on revolting fumes simply walking through the halls."

Surprised that he hadn't heard about it before, Drago dismissed his general with a promise to investigate his old mentor's chambers.

After dismissing his puppet councilors and his crafty generals, Drago went to investigate his old mentor's chambers. Upon reaching his destination, he found that the first of Mostafa's chambers, which were usually kept tidy with thorough precision, was changed. His two war tables were covered in scrolls and tomes unrecognizable to Drago. The room stank of death and poison. Strange symbols were drawn on the ground and walls in dark ash. And in the far corner of the room, with the restraints they used for captives aboard their prison ships, a living Druun stone warrior was held in suspension, drooling and chattering.

"Mostafa," Drago said, unsettled. "Explain yourself. What's happening here?"

The old war chief turned from one of his war tables where he had been studying a book that looked to be bound with mottled flesh. "Drago, my friend," he said, pleased. "Good. I thought to summon you, but I've been so engrossed. Come see the future of the Northern Alliance army."

Drago approached, intent on looking at Mostafa instead of the Druun warrior.

"They don't fear pain," Mostafa said. Perverse admiration crept into his voice. "They don't fear death."

"Warriors who don't know pain or fear are useless," Drago said, eyeing his old mentor with a firm glare. "'Strife is good. If a man can face death daily, there's no telling what that man can accomplish.' You taught me that, old friend."

"We must move beyond such teachings," Mostafa muttered, watching the Druun tilt its grotesque face in response to their voices. "With each swing of the sword, the world grows smaller, Drago. The competition to dominate this world will grow fiercer. If we don't learn a new way, we'll be cut down like those we've put to the sword over our years of conquest and battle." His voice went quiet. "We must accept new gods, or we'll perish."

The Druun suddenly began to thrash, sudden and violent.

Drago looked at his old mentor, a look of perverse adoration for the Druun that was thrashing. "I am ordering you to step down from the war council," the war master said after a long silence. "Your behavior gives me worry. Prove that my trust and faith in you isn't shattered, kill this Druun, dispose of these foreign scrolls and tomes, regain yourself, old friend."

"As you wish, master," Drago took his leave but stopped when he heard his old mentor chuckling and repeating himself. "As you wish, master." Exiting the war chieftain's chambers, Drago remembered the entity swearing to him that he would pay for attempting to enslave him and the Druun.

The repercussions of his actions would be costly.

Suddenly, Drago quickened his pace and went out to assemble his war council. If the Druun were in fact planning on punishing him and his followers, they needed to be prepared or all they have worked for will have been for nothing.

With Drago's men on the hunt for Namaari, Hiccup knew the longer they stayed here, the sooner they'd get caught and killed.

After rescuing the newly anointed chief of Fang Nation, Hiccup and Raya both took turns staying awake while Namaari and the rest of their companions could sleep into the night. Whilst sitting together, Raya noted Hiccup pulling a sketchbook out of his satchel, as he went through each page, he stopped at one page that held a breathtaking portrait of a beautiful woman, her features were realistic thanks to the artist taking their time capturing the natural beauty of the woman.

"Is that your woman?"

Turning to the curious princess, Hiccup smiled and nodded. "Astrid," he then chuckled. "Her name means "divinely beautiful," she the very embodiment of beautiful." Passing his sketchbook to Raya, Hiccup watched as the princess took in the portrait, greatly admiring the detail and realism.

"You drew her?"

Nodding, Hiccup spoke with pride. "It's my finest piece," he then shook his head lightly. "I drew that for her nineteenth year of life." His countenance fell and his face twisted with agony. "She was the sun of my life, never to rise again, thanks to that genocidal butcher, Drago," taking his sketchbook back in his satchel, Hiccup then looked to the Northern Alliance armada. "They'll all die for what they took from me and when they're all dead, then I'll finally be reunited with her."

Suddenly, Sisu let out a horrified gasp, causing both Hiccup and Raya to turn to the dragon with looks of concern. When inquiring the water dragon about what had her shaken, the dragon gestured to the sky above the imperial city, both Viking and princess looked and saw a bright violet flame in the air.

"What is that?"

Releasing a shaky breath, Sisu satisfied Raya's curiosity. "It means the Druun that reside in their own warped world are about to come back into this world with a vengeance," turning to the princess, she then spoke firmly. "Wake the others and bring the final gem pieces to me, we need to ensure the Druun do not return, or else we'll all suffer their retribution."

Drago had dismissed a handful of generals and commanders who had come to inform him that they had finished outfitting a battalion of their warriors with weapons forged from the elemental matter they had procured not long ago. Pleased with this news, Drago then commanded his men to continue to forging weapons from the matter they obtained, what he had seen in Mostafa's chambers told Drago that the Druun would come and they would fix their wrath of him and the Northern Alliance for believing they could conquer them. Despite his fierce reputation as an outstanding strategist and tactician, he has always preferred the blunt hammer of brute force, he believes that it's more effective than strategy, cunning and tactic.

It was foolish to assume that the Druun would not be easily tamed. After all, they're not men, they're a paracausal force. Such power under his command was what drove Drago to place his yoke of oppression and tyranny on them, but now he's cone to realize that in haste to replenish his numbers, he'll lose even more when the Druun come.

Fear suddenly runs through Drago's veins, he snarls at himself for feeling such agitation, but he can't help it. He knows that without the elemental matter his men had procured, the Northern Alliance is at the Druun's mercy, and they're not enough weapons forged from that matter to bring the Druun to heel. By no means was Drago a man who shrinks away from challenges, but the Druun are unlike anything he and his army have encountered, and he fears that he may have sentenced himself and his junta to their ends in his haste to see them placed under his control. There was still much to do, and Drago refused to be defeated until he and his junta had completed their ultimate purpose.

Fear was then replaced with fierce, and stern determination. Drago had come too far and has lost too much only to be defeated now, not only would he overcome this challenge and be rid of the Druun, but he then personally lead efforts to hunt down Hiccup Haddock, who too wished to see him meet a grisly end.

The war master was snapped out of his thoughts when the doors to the throne room opened. It was Azubuike, one of Drago's generals who led warriors from Africa, and a close confidant to Mostafa, that alerted the war master to a rather disturbing spectacle transpiring outside the palace.

"In the square," he said, his voice laced with concern. "I've never seen anything like it."

Drago went immediately.

In the central square of the imperial city's weaponsmith district, imperial citizens and Drago's men alike had gathered to see to see a bright violet flame licked the air. Mostafa stood against the blaze, naked but for a waist wrap, in the custody of two of his bodyguards. His sculpted, muscular body was carved with strange, crude symbols. When the old warrior saw Drago arrive, he threw his head back and laughed.

"Here comes the supposed Dragon-God," he mocked before laughing. "To kneel before our new god."

Drago strode forward. "Let him go," he told the guards. Reluctant, they did as the war master commanded. "What god, Mostafa? What heresies have you invented now?"

Mostafa grinned. "The god of darkness," he said, and the earth trembled beneath them.

"But the god of darkness has planted his terrible armies elsewhere; it is his servant, smiling, that has taken the ear of the warchild Mostafa."

Drago stood before his old mentor in the flickering violet light of the fire. "Your obsession is a weakness, old friend," he said. "And a threat to our junta's future and our ultimate goal."

"You can't stop it now," Mostafa lilted, breathless with delight.

"Xodar, The Malicious, hear me."

Drago didn't break his stare. "I have no choice but to—"

Mostafa, chuckling, raised his hands. To everyone's shock and awe, the war chief's hands glowed. The fire behind him suddenly burned higher and shrieked like a monster emerging from darkness. "The war is all there is," he said. "And even you, mighty Drago, War Master of the Northern Alliance, will not be able to stop what is come."

As the shrieking reached a fevered pitch, Drago made a regrettable, but necessary decision. With the lightning-quick reflexes Mostafa had taught him in his youth, he then unsheathed the sword at his side and ran it through Mostafa's middle. The crowds gasped, some shielding their eyes while the warriors of the Northern Alliance watched with their mouths agape, shocked that their master would do such a thing to one he held close to his heart.

Mostafa, however, looked down at the blade in his middle and released a bone-chilling laugh.

"I, Avri, The Mindbender, present you with this sacrifice, I conjure you with blood and death."

He laughed and laughed and laughed until his mouth began to ooze. Until Drago, disgusted, pushed his former mentor off his sword with his foot. The body tumbled back onto the violet blaze. The shrieking grew ever louder, Drago looked to the fire as it grew ever higher and roared with a ferocity that made predator's roars sound like a whisper.

"A gift for you, Xodar, The Malicious. May the Druun exact their retribution against mankind and Sisudatu."

As the fire consumed the corpse of Mostafa entirely, a gargantuan portal opened in the sky.

A/N: Next chapter is gonna have Sisu encountering Xodar and the Druun, though she won't be alone in the fight. I won't spoil anything, just be prepared for madness and battles.