Chapter 3

The battlefield was a desolate expanse shrouded in shadows, lined with towering stone pillars that pierced the gloom. Each pillar bore an iron torch bracket, and from every mount, flames flickered wildly, casting dancing shadows across the cracked ground.

Clang!

The sharp ring of steel colliding broke the silence.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

In the midst of the suffocating darkness, amid the shifting shadows and wavering torchlight, two figures clashed in a violent ballet. Suddenly, there was a clean, slicing whisshh!—the sound of something massive being severed. For a brief moment, all fell still. Then, a low groan echoed through the field as a pillar trembled, cracked, and splintered. With a deafening WHUD!, it collapsed, shaking the very ground it once stood upon.

Footsteps echoed—measured, deliberate—boots striking stone as a figure emerged from the dark veil. Illuminated by the flame’s orange glow, he stepped into the light.

Massive dragon-like wings extended from his back, and from the sides of his forehead, two thick, curved horns swept backward, framing the silhouette of his head. He was clad in exquisite armor, a deep jet green that shimmered faintly with each step, as if forged from gemstone and shadow. His face was concealed beneath an ornate helmet, its design fierce and unreadable.

He spoke, his voice low and filled with restrained fury.

"To think the prince would betray us... and steal away the girl of the final bloodline."

He tilted his head slightly, torchlight glinting off his horned helmet.

"We believed he should’ve perished long ago... because he had meet you".

A sharp *shhhhwing!* sliced through the silence, the sound of the sword cleaving the very air itself.

The man, his horns jutting from either side of his head, tilted his gaze toward the source of the sound.

*To the south,* he thought, recognizing the direction instinctively. His eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, his hand moved to his side.

From his right hand, a spear materialized—its shaft a deep, obsidian black, as if forged from the very heart of shadow. In a single, fluid motion, he gripped the heel of the spear and, with effortless strength, hurled it toward the ground. 

The spear slammed into the stone floor, its tip sinking deep into the earth with a resounding *TWANG*, the reverberation echoing in the stillness.

FWOOSH—TWANG!
The air blast slammed into the spear’s shaft, striking it with such force that a trembling vibration hummed down its spear head.

As the invisible blade of wind collided with steel, a chain reaction followed—stone and metal alike yielding to its sheer power. Pillars, both ahead and behind, were cleaved in a blink.

KRRAAAANG—BOOOM!
The first of the steel columns groaned before crashing down, smashing into the ground with a thunderous clang that rolled like thunder across the battlefield. Shards of stone erupted from the impact, and the air quivered with the weight of collapsing ruin.

Through the swirling clouds of dust behind the first fallen pillar, a figure emerged—at first, only a silhouette against the haze. As the dust began to settle, his form became clearer: a man clad in striking crimson armor that shimmered like burning embers under the torchlight.

His left hand rested calmly on the hilt of a sheathed sword fastened to his waist, while his right gripped a pitch-black blade—sleek, double-edged, and forged with a presence that seemed to devour the light around it.

"Perhaps if you'd taught him not to grow attached to a human girl, he would’ve focused on becoming stronger—for the sake of his own dragonkin," the man in crimson armor said coldly as he began to circle the fallen pillar, his footsteps steady and deliberate as he advanced toward the dragonoid.

'This will take longer than I expected', thought the man clad in crimson armor. As he approached, a heavy silence blanketed the battlefield—broken only by the measured sound of his boots striking the stone floor, each step echoing like a drumbeat in the stillness.

He disappeared.

In a heartbeat, the dragonoid instinctively reacted. His right hand gripped the heel of the spear, yanking it free from the stone floor with a sharp pull. His left hand seized the shaft, his fingers tightening around it with precision.

TWANGGGGGG!

The sword’s blade struck the spear’s shaft with a ringing clash, the impact reverberating through the air. Without hesitation, the dragonoid swung his spear with a fluid, powerful motion. The weapon bent under the incredible speed and force he generated, the air itself seeming to tremble with the energy of the strike.

TSINGGGG!

The captain smirked, and the dragonoid smiled beneath their helms.

"Heh."

The dragonoid planted his foot firmly against the ground, muscles tensing. With a swift motion, he drew his spear back, pulling it just out of the captain's range. His hands shifted along the shaft, tightening his grip as he adjusted the angle—preparing for the next strike with razor focus.

With a sudden burst of force, the dragonoid shot the spear forward.

Tsing...

The captain reacted instantly, deflecting the strike with a smooth parry.

Tsing, tsing, tsing...

He met every thrust with precise movements, his blade dancing with calculated speed. Each attack came faster than the last, the dragonoid's pace quickening as if his earlier strikes had merely been a warm-up.

Tsing, tsing, tsing, tsing, tsing, tsing—

"HAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The dragonoid roared, voice booming with power as the tempo of his assault reached its peak.

The air stirred violently as the two warriors danced—a deadly rhythm where the price was blood. With every swing of their weapons, gusts of wind trailed behind, carving the atmosphere with raw force and intent.

As the captain's cape swayed in the gust of wind, he thought to himself—‘Tsk… I can’t keep up like this,’ the captain cursed inwardly, his arms straining with each parry. The dragonoid’s strikes were growing faster—stronger—with every breath. The balance between defense and offense was slipping. Realizing he couldn’t keep this up for long, the captain’s eyes narrowed beneath his helm.

It was time to change tactics.

CHRAK—TSHHH—THUUUUD! The spear from the distance with only its motion tore through the stone pillar like paper, sending chunks crashing to the floor, With every thrust, parry, and counterstrike, the battlefield descended into chaos. The ground cracked and shattered beneath their feet, pillars splintered like rotted wood, and even the ceiling bore the scars—riddled with gaping holes from their ferocious clash.

TANG! TANG! TANG! TANG!

The captain’s eyes narrowed, carefully tracking his opponent’s movements. The dragonoid advanced, each step thundering against the stone floor. Then, with a sudden burst, he surged forward—closing the distance by several feet.

Using the momentum from his charge, the dragonoid unleashed a powerful, bone-crushing strike.

TUWANGGGGGGGG!!!

The captain met it head-on, bracing as his blade caught the spear in a ringing parry that echoed like a bell of war.

With only a fraction of a second’s reprieve from the simultaneous attacks, the captain seized the opening. Releasing his grip with his right hand, he reached across and drew the second blade from his left side.

SHHHHINK!

A clean, sharp metallic hiss cut through the air as the steel slid free from its scabbard—cold, deliberate, and ready to strike..

'That sword...' the dragonoid thought unconsciously, eyes narrowing as the captain drew his second blade. Reacting on instinct, he swung his spear out of the captain’s reach. Using the recoil from the impact, he hurled the weapon overhead—his left hand already positioned behind him to catch it in a seamless motion.

As he caught his spear, he leapt backward. With a powerful beat of his wings, he took to the air—then dove down, the force of his descent making the flames clinging to the ragged pillars tremble and flicker wildly.

"Can I ask you something?" the dragonoid’s voice echoed.

"Is that your final request?" the captain replied coldly.

"No. I'm just curious. As a weapon master myself, I can't turn a blind eye to a finely made blade."

"Ask away."

"Over 640 years ago, a master craftsman forged twenty-five weapons—each one the result of his life’s work and unrelenting dedication to perfection." As he talks he also walked to the sides, Slowly and steadily 

"I already know that story," the captain interrupted, voice sharp with irritation.

"Just hear me out," the dragonoid insisted. "He was backed by kings and nobles, given vast resources to craft legendary arms."

"And your point?" The captain narrowed his gaze. Is he buying time? No... unlikely.

"A branch of the dragonkin protected him fiercely from those who sought to claim him. We, too, benefited from his creations. But then—without warning—he vanished, taking the finest of his work with him. Now, the question."

The dragonoid’s eyes fixed on the captain’s blades.

"Are those two swords you're wielding among the ones he made?"

The air grew unnaturally still. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath as the dragonoid froze mid-step. His keen eyes narrowed, fixed on the crimson-clad captain before him. The captain, silent yet observant, cast a glance toward the sword resting in his left hand.

“Only one of them is his creation,” he said calmly, his voice carrying the weight of memory. “Even then, it’s merely a prototype—unfinished, incomplete.”

With deliberate motion, he raised the double-edged blade gripped tightly in his left hand, the steel whispering as it shifted through the air.

“This is Zha’vorran,” he declared. “A flawed experiment. A prototype that never passed its trials. It holds no place among the Twenty-Five Blades.”

“A failed prototype?” the dragonoid echoed, his voice laced with curiosity. “Then what of the other one?”

The captain’s gaze shifted to the weapon at his side unsheathed, radiating a quiet, profound presence.

“This…” he murmured, a flicker of sentiment touching his expression. “This sword was forged by a dear friend. He took Zha’vorran’s failure and, from its imperfections, shaped something greater.”

“And its name?”

The captain’s eyes lowered to the massive blade resting against the ground, its presence alone seeming to press down on the earth around it.

“Velmorran,” he replied, his voice carrying a note of reverence. “In the tongue of a long-forgotten age—over nine centuries past—it means Anvilfang of the Titans.”

“I see…” the dragonoid murmured, exhaling softly—a sigh of restrained relief. He brought his spear upright, its tip aligned with his chest, and let its presence speak for itself.

“This is Zaurithal,” he declared with solemn pride. “One of the true creations he forged. Unlike yours… this isn’t a prototype. This—” he glanced at the blade with quiet reverence, “—this is a finished masterpiece.”

The dragonoid angled his spear in a diagonal line, the polished tip gleaming with deadly intent. His left hand clenched tighter around the haft as he lowered his center of gravity, body coiled like a spring ready to strike. His voice rang out—cold, unwavering.

“I, General of the Three-Kingdom Alliance, will drive this spear through your skull… and claim your weapon as my own.”

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the area—and with it, a sharp rise in temperature. From the joints of the dragonoid’s armor, tiny, glimmering scales began to emerge. They pushed through the narrow gaps in his helm, neck, and armpits like a serpent shedding its skin, revealing the creature's true form beneath the steel.

The captain gritted his teeth, bewildered. He hadn’t anticipated this—hadn't expected the transformation

"Then... shall we continue?"

Boom!

The dragonoid vanished from the captain’s sight in an instant.

This is insane!! the captain thought.

Shengggggggg!

Steel met steel—spear and sword scraping violently as their edges clashed and dragged against each other.

His speed is insane!

The sheer force of the impact launched the captain through the air. He crashed through one pillar, then another, debris exploding around him.

While still airborne, the dragonoid appeared above, his spear raised high.

"Die."

With a single arm, he hurled the spear downward at unreal speed.

Shit! the captain spun midair, gritting his teeth. With his right hand, he stabbed his sword into the ground, anchoring it. Using it as leverage, he twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the deadly strike.

Just as his feet were about to find footing, the dragonoid appeared again—this time directly in front of him, his spear already thrusting toward the captain’s chest.

CLANG!

The air rang with the shriek of grinding metal as the captain reacted in a flash, raising the flat of the sword in his left hand like a shield. Steel screeched against steel as he blocked the

 fatal blow by mere inches.

Though he managed to stop the fatal strike, he couldn't withstand the raw force behind it—the sheer momentum born from his enemy’s speed.

The flat of his sword slammed into his own chest, driving the breath from his lungs.

“Heugh—!” Saliva burst from his mouth as he gasped for air, but he didn’t stop moving. Gritting his teeth, he reached out with his right hand and wrenched his anchored sword free from the ground.

He swung his sword—but it only carved through empty air. The dragonoid was too fast, too elusive for him to track with his current means.

The captain’s eyes grew restless, darting up, down, left, right—desperately scanning his surroundings. Pillars bore fresh footmarks, shadows flickered at the edges of his vision, but every time he turned his gaze, he was a second too late.

A sharp whistle carved through the wind—the cry of a spear ripping the air itself.

Blood sprayed.

"Arghhh!" the captain groaned. The left side of his stomach had been pierced. Reacting instantly, he leapt back, his instincts flaring—danger was everywhere.

"I need some distance."

The captain galloped, vaulting from one crumbling pillar to another, his cloak trailing behind him in torn ribbons of crimson.

Another sharp whistle sliced through the air—

SWWIIIIIIIIII—THUDDD!

As his foot landed on the next pillar, the stone beneath it suddenly erupted into a cluster of punctures—riddled with fresh, gaping holes.

"Tsk. I have no choice… I need to buy time—until he arrives."

The captain launched himself into midair just as the pillar crumbled beneath him. Debris scattered in his wake, stone splinters raining down like ash.

He raised the sword—the one forged by his dearest friend—and brought it to his face, the edge catching the light as if recognizing the gravity of the moment.

His eyes sharpened.

Bzzz...

A faint vibration trembled through the blade.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

The humming intensified—wild and unstable—as if the sword itself was reacting to the overwhelming pressure.

Still suspended midair, the captain felt the shift. He twisted his body, using the momentum to spin, blade first, through the air.

A violent WUMPH echoed across the battlefield as the vibration pulsed outward—stone trembled, and the ground split like veins of shattered glass.

I can’t… control it, the captain realized, barely catching his footing as shadows tore past him at speeds beyond his perception. He loosened his grip on the hilt.

"I just need to stay alive. Nothing else matters if I die here."

The vibration surged—louder, fiercer—resonating through his entire arm. Between the pillars, the flickering shadow danced relentlessly, until finally... it stopped.

And then he saw it.

The dragonoid no longer resembled anything human. Gleaming silver scales covered his entire body, his limbs elongated and monstrous. Massive wings spread wide from his back, casting a dreadful shadow over the ruined field. A full-blown humanoid lizard stood before him—towering, primal, and terrifying.

With one hand gripping the pillar for balance, and his spear crackling in the other, the dragonoid opened his maw.

SEUUUU—BOOM!!

A torrent of flame erupted forth, blasting toward the captain with terrifying speed. The impact shattered stone and swallowed the battlefield in a roaring inferno.

As the dust and smoke slowly cleared, a figure stood amidst the scorched remains—his armor blackened, steam rising from his body.

The captain.

He had no visible burts, but his breaths came ragged and harsh. The heat had seared into his lungs, burning him from the inside out.

It didn’t hit him? No… it’s the magnitude of that vibration... Is it intentional?

No. This is an incomplete technique, the dragonoid thought, eyes narrowing.

He released his grip—fingers pulling free from where they were embedded into the pillar—and gently glided down to the scorched floor, wings folding slightly as he descended.

“You,” he said, voice calm yet edged with amusement, “your technique... your magic power—it's leaking.”

The dragonoid smiled, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his scaled face.

The captain panted heavily, blood trailing down his side where his armor had split. His grip on the sword trembled, the vibrations still thrumming wildly through the blade.

"Do you think you can survive this encounter?"

The dragonoid’s voice was calm—almost curious—as he took a slow step forward.

I can’t keep this up for much longer… the captain thought, his vision blurring at the edges.

'I need to kill him… or buy time.'

'But the latter is impossible now' his eyes locked on the towering figure before him —not while he’s in that state.

With a strained breath, the captain raised the sword in his left hand, its edge still humming with unstable power. Blood dripped from his side, but his arm didn’t waver.

He pointed the blade directly at the dragonoid.

No words. Just intent.

“Oh God of Scorch... burn me.”

The sword in the captain’s left hand began to hum violently, its vibrations deepening into a resonant thrum. His eyes ignited with a brilliant blue glow—unnatural, divine.

With a roar, he swung the blade in a wide diagonal arc.

The dragonoid, watching carefully, felt something shift. His eyes widened.

He gritted his teeth.

“God of Scorch!? That’s impossible!”

In a blur, he vanished.

Thack!

The ground cracked beneath him as he kicked off with monstrous force, launching himself upward. With terrifying speed, he soared toward the ceiling—his spear thrusting ahead—piercing through stone and flame alike as he disappeared into the heights above.

Swish—

NGGGGGGGG—TRRRRRRRRRR!

The vibrations surged violently, now visible to the naked eye as ripples in the air. Wind howled in all directions. The ground trembled. The pillars groaned. Even the ceiling cracked beneath the force.

BOOM!!

A deafening explosion followed.

It wasn’t a slash.

It wasn’t a cut.

It was pure, annihilating force.

Everything caught in its path—stone, steel, or flesh—was disintegrated. Vaporized into nothingness.

As the dust swirled and drifted through the shattered ruins, the same sound echoed once more:

TRRRRRR—BOOM!!

Another violent eruption.

Countless pillars were vaporized in an instant, reduced to light and ash.

And through the chaos, a silhouette moved—cutting through the devastation with deadly purpose.

'This man…' the dragonoid thought, weaving between colossal falling stones, wings beating furiously. 'He’s compressing the air around him… and fusing it with vibration.'

'But it’s too strong… too unstable.'

The very battlefield had become a storm of destruction—and at its eye, stood 

the captain.

The dragonoid stretched out his hand, muscles rippling as he grasped a massive chunk of what was once the ceiling.

With a powerful surge of strength, he hurled it toward the captain.

What? The captain’s eyes widened in shock as the enormous boulder rocketed toward him from his right.

Reacting instinctively, he swung his right sword upward with all his might.

Disintegrated.

The boulder crumbled into nothingness, vaporized by the sheer force of the swing, but the shockwave rattled the captain’s grip, his body straining against the aftershock.

Just as the captain completed his swing, he felt it—

A presence at his back.

In a flash, the dragonoid appeared behind him.

Within a hundredth of a second, the spear was already mid-thrust.

SHUNK!

Blood splattered across the broken stone.

To be continued