Chapter 2

As the dragonoid soared above the endless stretch of trees blanketing the battlefield, he realized that the overwhelming force coursing through his body had obliterated every nerve and tendon near his arm.

“Damn it... I’m blacking out,” he muttered inwardly.

Hurtling through the air at breakneck speed, his body finally slammed against the base of the mountain. Blood splattered upon impact, yet he gave no thought to preserving his own life. His mind remained fixated on the captain.

“My defeat was inevitable from the beginning... but not like this,” he thought bitterly.

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the battlefield, the captain—the one who had unleashed the devastating technique—was now writhing and kneeling in agony, his body wracked with pain from the very attack he had dared to use.

“This technique still isn’t refined... The vibrations weren’t properly distributed,” he muttered under his breath, his voice strained and low, almost lost in the scorching wind that howled across the ruined battlefield.

Even as he tried to analyze what went wrong, a sudden voice rang out—not from the world around him, but from somewhere far more intimate and unsettling. It echoed inside his mind, bypassing his ears entirely. The tone was warped, alien, and laced with venomous disdain.

“Silence. Don’t presume to command me.”

The words slithered through his consciousness like cold steel, and for a moment, his breath hitched—not from fear, but from the chilling realization that something else resided within him.

Clenching his jaw, he pushed himself up from the shattered ground, gripping his injured wrist as pain flared through his arm. His fingers trembled, not from weakness, but from the lingering shock of what he had just unleashed. As he steadied himself, his eyes swept across the battlefield.

The world around him was in shambles.

The earth beneath his feet had cracked open into jagged lines that stretched toward the horizon like veins of destruction. Entire portions of the terrain had been upheaved, twisted by the sheer magnitude of the energy he had released. Flames devoured the nearby mountains, setting the sky aglow with an ominous crimson hue. Smoke and ash blanketed the air, thick enough to choke out the sun.

He stood in the center of it all—a lone figure amidst ruin, surrounded by the consequences of his own power.

‘The power… it’s more than satisfactory,’ he admitted to himself, though his expression remained cold, unreadable. ‘The real issue is control. Without it, this strength is nothing but a double-edged blade... and I’m standing on both sides of it.'

He reached for his sword, fingers wrapping around the hilt with silent familiarity as he began walking through the smoking wreckage of the battlefield. Each step echoed against the broken ground, the weight of destruction pressing on his shoulders like a storm cloud refusing to pass. His eyes scanned the devastation with sharp focus, but his mind was restless, clouded with uncertainty.

“This doesn’t make sense… Something’s off. Why would he come down alone?” he muttered, barely audible beneath his breath, suspicion curling in his tone.

At last, he arrived at the location—marked not by any landmark, but by the stillness that lingered in the air, as if the world itself held its breath.

There, lying in a growing pool of blood, was the dragonoid. His body was battered, torn, and trembling from the force of his wounds. Yet despite the state he was in—on the brink of death—he was smiling.

Not with madness. Not with defiance.

But with quiet acceptance.

The captain furrowed his brow, his grip tightening slightly on his sword.

“Why are you smiling? You realize I could end your life right here, in this very moment.”

The dragonoid didn’t flinch. His breathing was shallow, but his gaze was unwavering.

“Do not concern yourself with me,” he replied hoarsely. “My life… it isn’t what I’m worried about right now.”

The captain's eyes narrowed at the cryptic response. He studied the dragonoid's broken form for a moment, then spoke again, more pointed this time.

“Why did you come down al— No... wait. Where is your guardian?”

The dragonoid tried to respond, but a violent cough overtook him. Blood spilled from his lips before he managed to choke out a strained answer.

“My guardi— he... He is simply observing. As I instructed him to.”

The captain’s expression darkened.

“Why?”

The dragonoid's eyes flickered with something unspoken—resolve, perhaps. Or something deeper.

“Why? Because I chose for it to be that way.”

He was prepared to die from the beginning, the captain realized, a cold thought tightening in his chest.

With a fluid motion, the captain swept his cloak aside, revealing the steel glint of his weapon. He drew his sword, its edge gleaming even through the smoke and dust, and raised it slowly. The blade now pointed directly at the dragonoid’s heart.

“Then speak,” the captain said, his voice low and deliberate. “Tell me your last words before I strike you down.”

The dragonoid winced, his voice cracking under the weight of blood and pain.

“You... You’ve nearly perfected it—your technique. But before I go, I must ask you one thing...” He paused, his breath growing more ragged by the second. “Do you... truly wish to end the war?”

"End the war? Of course I do."

The captain’s answer came without hesitation, firm and unwavering.

The dragonoid chuckled in response, though it quickly devolved into a harsh, bloody cough. Crimson stained his lips, but his laughter persisted, thin and hoarse.

"Then I suppose... I shall end here... now. Let your name be etched into history," he rasped, defiant even in defeat.

The captain raised his blade with a solemn grace—one hand lifting it high toward the heavens, while the other braced beneath the hilt as the weapon passed over his head. His movements were deliberate, almost ceremonial.

And then—he swung.

Clang!

A sharp crash of steel reverberated through the air, louder than the wind, louder than the distant crackle of burning mountains.

"Hm?"

His eyes widened. Standing before him was a woman—young, human. With two refined daggers crossed in an X, she had intercepted the killing blow, deflecting it with unexpected strength and precision.

There was something unnatural about it. Not her technique, but her presence.

‘A human girl? I sensed no approach, no footsteps, no shift in the wind… How did she get here without detection?’

The captain blinked once, a flicker of amusement curving his lips.

‘No matter. Whoever she is... she’ll perish alongside him.’

Their blades pressed against one another, locked in a frozen instant of deadly intent. As the captain adjusted his grip, sliding his hand to the base of his sword, he began to force it downward—slowly, steadily—trying to overpower both her and the dying dragonoid beneath her.

But then… he saw something he never expected to find on a battlefield.

Tears.

The girl was crying.

Not from pain. Not from fear. But something else. Her teeth clenched, her body shaking from effort, and yet she stood her ground—daggers crossed, shielding the dragonoid with her very body.

‘She’s… crying?’

The captain’s expression shifted, just slightly—his focus disrupted, his curiosity piqued

And then—

BOOM!

A deafening explosion shattered the standoff, its shockwave rippling through the land, kicking up dust, fire, and fate alike.

He was sent flying over a hundred meters by the sheer force of the explosion, his body tumbling through the air like a ragdoll caught in a storm. As his body spun mid-flight, he twisted with practiced precision, righting himself to regain control.

‘An attack? From where—?’ his thoughts raced. **‘No… it’s the same magic. The girl’s magic.’

His boots skidded across the ground as he landed, the force causing cracks to splinter beneath him. There was no time to hesitate—every moment spent thinking was another moment the enemy could flee.

Without wasting a breath, he dropped into a low stance. One knee nearly touched the ground, while both of his hands steadied his balance. Energy surged through his legs—through his calves, thighs, and down to the tips of his feet—raw power being concentrated and honed for a single, explosive movement.

‘I’ll end this now. I don’t know what that magic was, but it’s far too unpredictable… too dangerous. I’ll take the dragonoid as a hostage. Use him as a shield if I must.’

His eyes locked on the faint figures through the settling dust. The girl. The dragonoid. Vulnerable. Within reach.

Then, in an instant—

He vanished.

A thunderous crack exploded through the air as the ground where he once crouched shattered violently. The sheer force of his launch left a crater in his wake, the only trace of his presence being a deep imprint—the scorched outline of his armored boot stamped into the broken earth.

As the captain vanished from sight, tearing through the air like a living missile, the girl didn’t waste a single heartbeat. Every second was precious—every moment a chance to stay one step ahead of the monster that hunted them.

She knew his kind. The moment you faltered, you were already dead.

He’s coming.

Without hesitation, she lunged toward the dragonoid, her intent clear: get him out of harm’s way before the captain could reappear. But just as her fingers reached for him—

“Lily... stop.”

The voice, weak but firm, froze her in place. Her eyes widened.

“Don’t disgrace my name any further,” Crycus murmured, a faint, tired smile on his bloodstained lips.

“But Cryc—”

“Don’t worry about me.” His gaze met hers, still sharp despite the pain. “Instead… come closer.”

His tone was quiet but carried a weight she couldn’t ignore.

There was something in his eyes—resolve, clarity, maybe even a plan. Whatever it was, it silenced her protest and quickened her breath.

She stepped in.

Elsewhere on the battlefield, the captain came to a sudden, thunderous stop. The momentum behind his charge dissipated in an instant, leaving a ripple of pressure that cracked the ground beneath his feet.

His expression was unreadable as he stared into the distance.

The two presences—once moving, once trying to flee—had gone still. Utterly still.

‘Strange… They’ve stopped. Why?’

‘Is this a trap?’

Something about it didn’t sit right. The silence, the stillness—it was too deliberate.

He took a slow breath, eyes narrowing slightly. Then, with a deliberate calm, he shut his eyes.

His head dipped forward… and then rolled upward, his neck arching back to face the sky, as if inviting revelation. And then it happened.

From behind his closed eyelids, a radiant blue light pulsed out—sharp, intense, and otherworldly.

The light didn’t just shine—it rippled. Like waves over still water, it radiated in concentric circles through the air, unseen to the naked eye but felt deep in the bones. The wave-like pattern moved with intention, scanning, reaching—an arcane form of echolocation.

Fwum... Fwum... Fwum...

Each pulse echoed through the desolate field, mapping every detail—every motionless body, every fragment of magic lingering in the air, every heartbeat within range.

He winced slightly, narrowing his glowing eyes as he lowered his head, the light dimming to a flicker.

‘They’ve truly stopped. Not even a shift in their breathing.’

The captain’s grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.

‘And that attack… the one that blew me away… it didn’t come again. It was a single warning shot.’

‘Or a distraction.’

The answer eluded him, but his need for it only grew.

‘No more assumptions. I’ll carve the truth from them myself.’

With cold resolve, he stepped forward once more—his silhouette cutting through the battlefield like a blade through fog.

As his footsteps drew near, the thunderous clamor of his crimson-plated armor echoed ominously across the scorched, flame-ravaged wasteland. Each step seemed to shake the ground, stirring the ash that blanketed the desolate terrain.

“Lily… he com—” he gasped, a sharp cough cutting his words short as a spray of blood burst from his mouth, splattering the blackened soil beneath him.

Through the swirling storm of dust and scattered rubble, the captain emerged from the haze like a specter of war. His piercing eyes shimmered with a blend of disbelief and tension. With a slow, deliberate motion, he raised a single brow and crossed his arms over his chest, crimson armor groaning softly with the movement.

“Human girl, wha—why do you stand with them? The dragon race bears no wish to lift a feeble, inferior species into their ranks. You disgrace your kind with this alliance.”

As the girl heard his words, she met his gaze without flinching. The captain paused, momentarily taken aback by the clarity and defiance in her eyes. Something about the sight stirred a flicker of fascination within him. Letting out a slow, almost amused sigh, he spoke with a trace of curiosity.

“Girl... do you even realize your own worth? As the last of a bloodline that carries eyes like those?”

'I didn’t pay much attention to her eyes earlier… but now that I see them clearly—everything makes sense'

The captain stepped forward with deliberate weight, each stride pressing the ash beneath his boots deeper into the earth. With a swift motion, he drew his massive, double-edged greatsword—its black blade gleaming faintly under the haze—and drove it into the scorched ground before him with a resonant thud.

“I shall make you an offer,” he declared, his voice steady and unreadable.

In response, the girl’s posture shifted. Her muscles tensed, and she lowered her body into a guarded stance, twin daggers glinting in her hands as she prepared for the worst.

No hostility in her movement... is she surrendering? the captain wondered, narrowing his eyes in thought. He opened his mouth, beginning to speak.

“Leave this battlefield, and live a n—”

“She won’t do that.”

His offer was abruptly cut short by the hoarse voice of the bloodied man lying behind the girl—still breathing, still defiant despite the edge of death clawing at him.

“Why?” he asked, his tone tinged with exasperation. “You’re a dying man. Honestly, I’m doing you a favor—risking my own status and position just to spare her.”

As his words hung in the air, the girl’s expression twisted with fury. Her eyes narrowed, lips curling with contempt as she spat back, voice laced with disdain.

“How da—”

“Lily—let me speak to him.”

His voice cut through hers like a blade through silence. At his command, the fire in her gaze flickered, giving way to a sudden, haunting sorrow. Though her eyes now brimmed with despair, her stance remained firm—daggers still raised, guard unwavering.

“I want to make a deal.”

The captain’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of curiosity cutting through the cold determination in his gaze. “A deal for what?”

“To end this century-old war.”

The moment those words left her lips, an eerie silence descended. The flames and embers that had once crackled and roared seemed to lose their voice, their sound stifled as if by some unseen force.

“What kind of fool do you take yourself for, thinking you could end this war?” the captain’s voice was sharp, tinged with disbelief, as his scorn echoed through the stillness.

"YOU THINK CAN!?" The captain's voice thundered, raw with fury. "Do you have any idea how many of my companions have fallen because of the war your kin started!?"

“My companions also died in th—” His words were abruptly cut off as blood spilled from his mouth, staining his lips.

With a swift motion, the captain drew his sword. He swung it in front of the girl, the blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Yet, the strike didn’t come close enough to touch flesh. Instead, a powerful gust of wind followed, the air itself vibrating with the force of the swing.

Behind them, a sharp, resounding crack echoed through the landscape as countless trees were severed at the trunks, their forms falling like dominoes. Though the path of destruction lay only inches away, they were untouched—protected by the sheer distance and power the captain wielded.

In that single, effortless act, the captain’s superiority was unmistakably clear.

"Tell me," he snarled, his fury palpable, "how could a brat like you, who hasn’t even come close to reaching my level, possibly end the war—a war I, myself, haven’t been able to end?"

“I shall reintroduce myself…” The near-death figure struggled to speak, his voice faint but heavy with significance. “I am Crycus Lakmas, son of Crymus Lakmas, holder of the royal blood and—the youngest prince of the dragon race.”

To be continued.