As the final echoes of battle faded into the breaking dawn, silence blanketed the resort grounds. Bodies exhausted,

bruised, but breathing lay across the cracked tiles, their dragon tattoos glowing faintly like embers in the aftermath of a

storm.

RB had been rushed to a secret underground clinic. His pulse was steady, but he had yet to wake. Machines hummed

beside him, keeping rhythm with the quiet determination in Jeydon’s heart. 

His brother, his partner in fire and steel, wasn’t gone just gathering strength. And when he returned, the city would

tremble once more.

Kiro stood at the gates, overlooking the horizon. The once-innocent boy now bore the weight of the brotherhood’s future.

His tattoo shimmered with colors unseen in any other—a sign that the dragon had chosen its next heir.

Badburn was wounded, but not broken. Their enemies had scattered, but the war was far from over. New alliances would

form. New threats would rise from the ashes. The streets had changed and so had the rules.

Jeydon raised his fist into the air, and those still standing echoed his silent call. Badburn lives.

And in the shadows of Greyhollow, someone watched… smiling. 

The game wasn’t over. It was just beginning.

Legends don’t die—they evolve. And Badburn was just getting started.