Cassian knew the odds weren't in his favor—not really.
Not when it came to beating the Holy Son for this inheritance.
It wasn't that he lacked confidence. Quite the opposite. He was exceedingly confident in his own talent, strength, and sharp instinct for battle. While the Western Continent's Pope was a figure worthy of awe and dread, the so-called "Holy Son" Seraphius was... not the Pope.
And unlike beast-tamers, whose strength lay in numbers through their spiritual creatures, the church's faith-based cultivation offered no such advantages. In a direct fight, Cassian was certain he could overpower Seraphius.
If he had his six pure-blooded dragons.
That was the problem.
This trial forbade the use of spiritual creatures—or even spiritual power altogether. Instead, it measured potential successors by perhaps some other, unknown metric, one that had little to do with combat prowess.
Which brought Cassian to the reason why he wasn't feeling nearly as cocky as usual.
