Chapter 10 Chaos in Ashnar

Leon and Duen led the battalion to the foot of a magnificent mountain, where a series of mountains and canyons stretched before them.

“Alright, men, we will set up camp here!” commanded Leon.

“Yes, sir!” the Havone soldiers replied, their weariness evident from the journey.

A sprawling camp soon took shape. That evening, by the crackling campfire, Duen and Leon sat down to discuss their plans. Each held a cup, sipping as they deliberated their next steps.

“The Dragoons of Mount Ashnar are known to be a proud tribe. They worship the Ancient Black Dragon King Rhygon’tera,” explained Leon. “Legend has it that dragons are the ancestors of the Dragoons in Ashnar.”

“The Ancient Black Dragon, is that real?” asked Duen, skepticism coloring his tone.

“You gotta be kidding me. Of course not. No one has seen it,” scoffed Leon. “But the Dragoons, they will fight to their deaths.”

“That’s not our war. We do what we’re supposed to do and get out,” reminded Duen firmly, his gaze unwavering. Leon nodded in agreement.

“So we will pass the message to the Ashnar chief tomorrow and then wait for instructions from Lady Beatrice,” said Leon.

“But what if they refuse?” asked Duen, his mind deep in thought. “This tribe has not been conquered for the last 50 years, there must be a reason,” he added.

“Who cares, we’re just here to pass the message and report to the Royal Advisor,” dismissed Leon. “And we’ll have proved ourselves in the process,” he added confidently.

“Yes, but what if they attack us head on?” asked Duen, his unease palpable.

“Can’t rule that out. I’ve thought about it, so to be sure they hear us out, just a small group of us will head up to seek an audience with the Village Chief,” explained Leon.

“The main army will be ready just in case. I’ll make sure they see the whole 500-man army, and have them understand that we are here to take them by force if necessary,” he added, his tone firm and resolute. Duen felt slightly uncomfortable as Leon spoke.

“Get some rest, it’ll be a long day tomorrow,” Leon said, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the fireplace. Duen nodded and left to rest up at his tent.

The next morning, Leon assembled the soldiers into formation near the base of the mountain, Havone’s flag and cavalry ready and in place.

Perched atop their steeds, Duen and Leon surveyed the landscape before them. “The path to the Ashnar village starts from the base of these mountains, gradually winding uphill and surrounded by a series of peaks,” remarked Duen, his gaze scanning the rugged terrain. “These mountains act like a natural fortress, offering protection to the village,” he added, with Leon nodding in agreement.

The Ashnar tribe had outposts sprawled all over the mountains. Using a periscope, Leon scouted the area and observed parts of the Ashnar village nestled in the mountains. Plumes of smoke rose from various locations, evidence of campfires being set up.

“The high ground offers a tactical advantage. The attacking main force will have to navigate through the mountainous path, a fatal funnel perfect for their archers and spearmen,” explained Leon. “They’ll know where to lay traps and ambush the aggressor. No wonder it hasn’t been conquered for 50 years!”

Duen listened intently as Leon analyzed the battleground. This was a side of Leon he hadn’t seen before, and he was impressed.

“Indeed, that terrain could prove difficult even for the Temporal Knights,” agreed Duen, acknowledging the challenges ahead.

As they spoke a soldier hurried to Leon with urgent news. “Sir, there’s activity from the Ashnar tribe. The sentry detected a group heading towards us, from the sky,” he reported.

Leon peered through a monocular. “I see them. What is that?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “So the rumors are true, they really do fly,” he murmured. “Can I see?” asked Duen, intrigued by the unfolding events.

Leon passed the monocular over to Duen. Looking into the distance, Duen could see five huge beasts flying towards them from the mountains. On the back of the beasts rode warriors with their faces painted, carrying spears and axes.

“Those must be the Dragoons and the old guy, the chieftain,” said Leon.

“What’s that beast they are riding on?” asked Duen, eyeing the intimidating, reptilian-like creatures with long necks and huge wings.

“Wyverns. The Dragoons are said to be able to tame and ride Wyverns,” explained Leon. “These beasts are native to this mountainous region.”

Duen nodded as he listened to Leon and continued scouting. An aged chief rode alongside a warrior, his form adorned with intricate tribal trinkets and a crimson cape fluttering behind him.

“We should head out to meet them and deliver Havone’s message. It will be less intimidating for them that way,” said Leon, riding forward. Duen nodded, and they rode out slowly with an entourage of 20 armored soldiers. As they advanced, the Dragoons circled the entourage in the sky before swooping down with a cacophony of loud, screeching sounds upon landing.

Duen gazed at the imposing Wyverns as the dragoons dismounted. The creatures loomed large, spanning about 28 feet from head to tail, with razor-sharp spikes adorning the edges of their tails. Their heads shook with powerful grunts, revealing formidable jaws and neck muscles. Each Wyvern lay on its belly, showcasing menacing talons on its hind legs.

The reptilian beasts possessed scaly skin, with massive wings extending around 15 feet on each side, forming part of their front limbs. Their occasional screeches added to the air of intimidation. Strapped to a head harness, spirit stones gleamed on each Wyvern, while the Dragoons wielded similar stones in their weapons.

“That must be how they control the beasts,” Duen mused, recalling his use of a spirit stone whip to command the Griffon during his flight to Girden Heim outpost.

The five Dragoons stood tall, their muscular frames adorned with tribal face paint and light leather armor. Their menacing presence was accentuated by the weapons they wielded, including spears and axes. Duen couldn’t help but wonder, “Can Havone prevail against these warriors, even with a Temporal Knight and a full battalion?”

Tension hung heavy in the air as Leon and Duen exchanged a glance, raising their hands in a gesture of submission as they approached. They aimed to convey their lack of aggression. “That is close enough,” cautioned a Dragoon, his spear adorned with a green spirit stone. He stood as the leader, his dark skin and muscular build commanding respect, accentuated by intricate tribal tattoos and a braided mane of black hair.

“People of Mount Ashnar, I am Leon Kingsman, envoy of the Holy Kingdom of Havone,” Leon declared, bowing respectfully. “Havone! What is the meaning of this!” yelled the dark-skinned Dragoon, his fist clenched as he pointed towards the distant battalion. “Kyran… let him speak,” interjected the elder chieftain calmly.

“The people of Mount Ashnar, I come to deliver a message from King Klaus Graham, the Holy King of Havone,” said Leon with solemnity. “The Holy Kingdom will take Mount Ashnar as a vessel under our care and protection. Havone will offer protection to the Ashnar tribe. All land, people, and weapons of the Ashnar tribe will fall under the sovereignty and protection of Havone.”

“Hahaha! You would like to take over our tribe?” laughed Kyran. “This Holy King of yours is nothing Holy. He is ambitious and cruel, and he has been waging wars under the guise of god, conquering vast lands,” said Kyran. Duen’s brow furrowed as he absorbed these words.

“We wish to protect you. If you agree to surrender, you will receive protection, the freedom to prosper together with the Holy Kingdom,” said Leon. “And not a drop of blood will be spilled,” he added, meeting the chieftain’s gaze.

“That’s a lie. The Freedom to prosper, you say, you could have left us alone, but your King’s ambition drove you here,” Kyran scowled. “Kyran,” the Chieftain intervened, silencing him. “Our people have been children of the lands, and we have lived in these mountains peacefully for many generations. We are the descendants of the dragons,” the Chieftain stated in a low, calm voice. “I would like you to march back home. Tell your King to leave my people in peace,” he concluded calmly.

“No,” Leon replied coldly, startling Duen with his tone. “By order of the Holy King, you are to yield,” he continued. “Or?” taunted Kyran with a laugh. “Or you shall perish,” Leon declared, his voice icy. “Who are you to decide our fate?” scowled Kyran. “We have been independent for generations. In the last 50 years, many before your King have tried to claim these lands. They all returned with regrets,” Kyran declared defiantly. “If we have to, we will fight with everything we have,” he warned.

“These mountains and the Ancestral Dragon protect our lands. Tell your King we bow to no one,” declared the chieftain firmly. “Regrettably, I understand your stance and I will communicate this,” said Leon, his eyes betraying a chilling determination. Duen couldn’t shake off the discomfort he felt witnessing Leon’s unwavering commitment to the Kingdom’s ambition.

“Let’s head back, Duen,” said Leon firmly as he turned his horse around and began riding back to camp. The Dragoons mounted their Wyverns and took off into the sky, flying back to the mountains. “They’ve refused, as expected. What do you think the King will do?” asked Duen as they rode back.

“I believe they will follow through with a main battalion and take out the enemy,” said Leon. Duen couldn’t shake the thought of the Dragoons and their Wyverns. “How will Havone’s army deal with that?” he pondered silently.

“I shall write to Beatrice tonight,” said Leon, breaking the silence. Duen nodded in agreement. The gravity of their mission weighed heavily on his mind as they made their way back to camp.

Back at camp that evening, Leon diligently penned a detailed report of their encounter with the Dragoons. He sealed the letter and entrusted it to an army captain, who released a messenger bird to carry the urgent dispatch back to Havone. Meanwhile, Duen lay in his tent, restless and unable to find sleep.

The words of Kyran, the Dragoons’ leader, echoed in his mind. Kyran had accused King Klaus Graham of Havone of being ambitious and cruel, claiming that the king had waged wars under the guise of god, expanding his dominion over vast lands. Duen couldn’t shake the unsettling thought. He drew parallels between King Klaus and Senator Klaus, prominent figures in both his world and Havone. Both wielded immense power and exhibited similar ambitious traits.

As he tossed and turned in his tent, Duen pondered the correlation between both men. What was King Klaus after and if there was a pattern to decipher? The fatigue of the day eventually overtook him, and he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning, the messenger bird returned promptly with a letter. As Leon perused its contents, his gaze drifted into the distance, lost in contemplation. “What did it say, Leon? Is the main battalion on its way?” inquired Duen, his voice tinged with anxiety. “And when can we head back?” he added, eager to return.

“Lady Beatrice informed us that the main battalion will arrive shortly,” Leon responded, his tone grave. “We’ve been instructed to halt all supplies heading into the mountains,” he continued, noticing Duen’s frown at the news.

“There’s not much food in the mountains. Their people come down to hunt, to bring food back. Goods are traded at the foot of the mountains. If we stop the supply, we starve them. They won’t be able to stay inside,” Leon explained. Duen mulled over the implications, his discomfort evident.

“A fortress is a fortress until you can’t stay in it. Beatrice Odessa, no wonder they call you Havone’s secret weapon. She’s such a brilliant strategist,” Leon mused, his thoughts drifting into deep contemplation.

“Wait, Leon, shouldn’t we wait for a Temporal Knight to take charge and initiate this?” Duen interjected, his voice tinged with concern. “If we proceed as Beatrice commands, it’s essentially a declaration of war!” he exclaimed. “They might retaliate!” Duen emphasized, his worry evident.

Leon remained composed, his response measured. “Yes, we must be prepared for that,” he affirmed, surprising Duen with his calm demeanor.

“Why not wait for the main army to arrive?” Duen persisted, his agitation growing. “These are orders from the Holy Kingdom. We must obey,” Leon stated firmly, his resolve unwavering. “Can’t you see, Duen? The Holy Kingdom is testing us,” Leon continued, his mind already strategizing.

“If we handle this correctly, we’ll be knighted into the Temporal Order upon our return,” Leon added, his anticipation evident. “We’re on the verge of handing this off to the incoming Temporal Knight. Trust me, Duen. We’re nearing the completion of our mission,” he reassured, a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Okay,” Duen acquiesced, though his uncertainty lingered. “Captain!” Leon called out, his voice commanding attention. “Yes, Sir!” responded the Captain, stepping forward. “Halt all supplies heading into the Ashnar tribe,” Leon ordered firmly. “Yes, Sir!” the Captain acknowledged, ready to carry out the directive.

That afternoon, as they waited in the camps, Havone soldiers seized supplies bound for the Ashnar mountains and brought them back to their own camps. Leon observed silently as the soldiers carried out their task. In the distance, five Ashnar tribesmen, their hands bound behind their backs, were escorted towards Leon by Havone Guards, spears at the ready.

“Sir! We’ve apprehended these tribesmen near the forest,” reported a Havone guard. “Please, let me go,” pleaded one of the Ashnar hunters. “I was merely hunting and gathering food for my family,” he implored.

“Let them…” began Duen, but his words were cut short by Leon’s interjection. “Tie them up and hang them high on the poles,” Leon ordered tersely. “Yes, sir!” replied the Havone guard, immediately following the command.

“Leon! What are you doing?” Duen protested, his voice tinged with frustration.

“To make a point. They need to understand we are dead serious,” Leon responded, his tone cold and resolute.

“You are pushing them into a corner!” Duen exclaimed. “We are not supposed to be involved in this. This is not our war!” he yelled, his frustration palpable.

“It’s my war now!” Leon shouted, his fist slamming onto the table with force. “I have to prove myself to Beatrice. Can’t you see? Beatrice and the Holy King, they’re testing us,” Leon argued passionately, his impatience evident as he tried to convey his perspective. “If I can get the Ashnar tribe to surrender before the main battalion arrives, I’ll have proven myself,” he concluded.

“Leon… if you take them hostage, they’ll retaliate!” Duen warned urgently. “Then we fight!” Leon retorted coldly.

“What?” Duen exclaimed, disbelief evident in his voice as he stared at Leon in shock.

“The Ashnar tribe probably number about 200 at best, they are not a big tribe. We have 500 men,” Leon stated confidently. “Although those Dragoons could pose a problem. But I think we can hold them out here, while we wait for the main battalion to arrive,” he added, determination evident in his voice.

“Have you lost your mind?” Duen interjected, his tone incredulous. “This is my chance to prove myself!” Leon retorted. “I came here to prove myself worthy. It’s my chance to change destiny, I’m not going to dig in that mine forever!” he insisted. “I didn’t agree to be part of the war. We agreed that this is just a reconnaissance mission!” Duen reminded him.

“Duen, this is not the time to be a coward!” Leon shot back. “I’ve been waiting all my life to prove myself to the Holy Kingdom and here it is!” he exclaimed. “The opportunity is right in front of me! This is a sign, Lord Father has shown me the way,” Leon proclaimed. “The choices we make next will define us,” he concluded, his resolve unwavering.

“Duen, Lord Father is with us, don’t you see?” Leon insisted. “No. I’m sorry. But I’m out…” Duen stated firmly, shaking his head.

“What?” Leon was taken aback. Duen remained silent. “What did you say, Duen?” Leon pressed. “I’m out, Leon. I won’t be part of this,” Duen reiterated, walking out of the tent. “Aren’t we in this together?” Leon shouted in frustration, banging his fist on the table. “Fine! You do whatever you want!” he yelled after Duen’s retreating figure. “I’ll chart my own destiny… Lord Father will be with me,” he whispered defiantly.

As Duen exited the tent, the ground shook violently with a deafening rumble. “An earthquake?” he pondered, struggling to maintain his balance. In the distance, the Ashnar tribesmen were already hoisted on tall poles, while smoke billowed from the Ashnar mountains, signaling a volcanic eruption.

Mounting his horse, Duen glanced back at Leon, who stood outside the tent, chin held high in defiance. Another tremor shook the earth, accompanied by the ominous sight of black smoke rising from the mountain peaks. With a decisive kick, Duen urged his horse into a gallop, leaving the camp behind.

Dismayed by Leon’s actions and the looming conflict, Duen couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. As he rode away, thoughts raced through his mind. Leon’s sudden transformation puzzled him; it was as if he had become a different person.

As Duen galloped onto higher ground, he turned to glance at the camp, and something caught his eye: eight black beasts flying toward Havone’s camp. Their huge black wings flapped in the sky, resembling birds from a distance, but Duen knew they were not birds. “Those Wyverns… it’s begun! The war has been initiated…” he gasped, paralyzed with fear and anxiety.

“What should I do now?” Duen’s mind raced with thoughts as fear crept through him. What would happen to Leon if those powerful Wyverns and Dragoons attacked? He shuddered at the thought and decided he had to do something. With determination, Duen whipped his horse around and started galloping back towards the camp. With a resounding cry, he spurred his mount forward, galloping back into the fray.

As Duen approached from a distance, the chaos unfolded before him. Wyverns and Dragoons descended from the skies, while Ashnar warriors surged forward on foot. As the Wyverns swooped in, warriors leaped off their backs to join the fray. Meanwhile, Dragoon riders circled overhead, casting flaming torches onto the pristine white Havone tents, igniting a destructive inferno.

A Havone soldier was snatched by a Wyvern and carried into the sky before being released, his cries echoing through the air as he plummeted to his demise.

In retaliation, Havone troops fired arrows at the Wyverns, piercing their wings and bodies, causing one to crash violently into the camps, screeching in agony. Soldiers armed with spears charged at the fallen Wyvern, surrounding it and driving their weapons into its flesh.

The air reverberated with the deafening roar of battle, filled with the clash of metal and the cries of men as Duen rode into the heart of the chaos.

“Argh!” screamed an Ashnar warrior as he ambushed Duen, charging with his spear. With lightning reflexes, Duen dodged the thrust, narrowly avoiding a direct hit as the spear grazed his shoulder. His horse, startled by the commotion, reared up violently, throwing Duen to the ground with a resounding thud.

“Argh!” grunted Duen as he hit the earth hard, his senses reeling. Beside him lay a fallen Havone soldier, lifeless in the chaos of battle. With urgency, Duen seized the fallen soldier’s sword, preparing to defend himself against the charging Ashnar warrior.

The Ashnar warrior pressed forward relentlessly, his spear aimed for Duen’s heart. Duen met each thrust with swift, calculated strikes of his own, parrying the attacks with skillful precision. As the warrior lunged again, Duen sidestepped effortlessly, seizing the opportunity to strike.

In one fluid motion, Duen’s blade sliced through the air, finding its mark on the warrior’s leg. With a piercing cry of agony, the warrior stumbled, collapsing to his knees in pain.

Frantically, Duen left the injured Ashar warrior behind and pushed through the chaos, his heart pounding with worry. Tents blazed around him, casting flickering shadows on the carnage below. Amidst the chaos, fallen soldiers from both sides littered the ground, their lifeless forms a grim testament to the violence that had erupted.

“Leon!” Duen’s voice cut through the clamor, raw with urgency, as he scanned the tumult for any sign of his friend. With each step, the acrid scent of blood and smoke grew stronger, assaulting his senses and fueling his desperation.

In the distance, Duen’s eyes ignited with hope as he glimpsed Leon, his figure bathed in the ominous glow of the flames. Backing away cautiously, Leon faced a towering Wyvern, its sinister form casting a long shadow over the chaos below. Perched atop the creature, a Dragoon wielded a spear adorned with a vibrant yellow spirit stone, matching the stone that adorned the Wyvern’s fearsome visage.

“Damn! Do I use the Stone of Eternity!”thought Duen, a surge of conflicting emotions flooded his mind as he grappled with the decision before him. His hand on the hilt of the dagger which was sheathed at his waist. The weight of the dagger pressed against his side, a silent reminder of the power it held within.

“You could have left peacefully, yet you chose violence!” bellowed the Dragoon as he advanced. Suddenly, a deafening explosion rent the air, drawing all eyes towards the mountains. The ground quaked violently as tremors reverberated through the earth. “A volcanic eruption,” gasped Duen, bracing himself as he squatted to maintain balance, his gaze fixed on the billowing ash.

Moving swiftly, Duen crept closer, taking cover behind a tent, poised for action. “Argh!” roared the Dragoon, signaling the Wyvern. With drool dripping from its jaws, the Wyvern charged, teeth bared, aiming for Leon. In a split second, Duen lunged forward, seizing Leon and pulling him to safety as they tumbled to the ground, narrowly avoiding the Wyvern’s assault. Rising to his feet, Duen swung his sword, deflecting the Wyvern’s ferocious claw strikes while slowly backing away.

“Duen, you returned!” gasped Leon, scrambling to his feet. “I came back for you! We need to get out of here! Argh!” yelled Duen, deflecting the Wyvern’s strikes as he retreated.

With a sudden movement, the Wyvern swung its massive tail, striking Duen squarely in the torso and sending him hurtling through the air. “Duen!” cried Leon in horror, his gaze shifting nervously to the Wyvern now focusing its attention on him.

“Argh! I have to use it,” groaned Duen as he rose from the ground, his hand inching towards the hilt of his dagger. Suddenly, Duen felt a powerful static aura in the air, causing the hair on his neck to stand on end. He turned to see a female knight riding a horse galloping past him. A white cape adorned with Havone’s colors billowed behind her as she rode.

“Temporal Knight,” gasped Duen as he caught sight of the emblematic white cape flashing by. The female knight was clad in black and crimson armor, her black curly hair tinged with red. A long black chain hung from around her shoulders.

“It’s her, I remembered her, the Crimson Knight,” said Duen, realization dawning. “It’s the main battalion!” he exclaimed, his hopes rekindling.

As the Crimson Knight rode through the battlefield, she swiftly reached out her hand and seized a spear impaled in a fallen Havone soldier. An Ashnar warrior charged toward her as she rode, and with a precise thrust, she impaled the spear into his torso. Disembarking from her horse, she kicked the lifeless body aside, freeing her spear. Several Ashnar warriors descended upon her from multiple directions, their roars echoing across the chaos of battle.

“Argh!” roared the Ashnar warriors as they launched their assault. The Crimson Knight smiled calmly as she assumed a battle stance, spear in hand. With lightning speed, she charged forward, deftly slashing one warrior before pivoting and thrusting her spear into another. Leaving the spear lodged in the fallen warrior, she swiftly claimed his saber.

In a whirlwind of motion, she engaged the remaining Ashnar warriors, her movements a blur of lethal precision. With each stroke of her blade, another enemy fell until all lay defeated at her feet. “That speed is incredible,” gasped Duen, awestruck by her combat prowess. The Crimson Knight strode calmly toward the Wyvern confronting Leon.

With a fluid motion, the Crimson Knight discarded the saber and began to enchant with her hands, a crimson aura enveloping her. As she extended her palms, two shimmering blue icicle spears materialized in her grasp. “What’s that? She’s creating them by freezing the moisture in the air?” exclaimed Duen, astonished by the display of enchantment.

“Argh!” cried the Crimson Knight as she took a few swift steps forward, launching the icicle spear like a javelin toward the Wyvern. The icy projectile sliced through the air, embedding itself in the creature’s hide, halting it in its tracks. The Wyvern emitted a piercing shriek of agony. Mathilda advanced calmly, transitioning into a jog before launching the second icicle spear directly into the Wyvern’s body. The creature convulsed in agony before collapsing to the ground, writhing in pain. “No!!!” bellowed the Dragoon, dismounting his Wyvern and rushing to its side to assess the damage.

“Crimson Knight Mathilda! You’re here!” yelled Leon, his voice filled with elation. Mathilda briefly glanced at Leon before turning her attention to the Dragoon, ignoring him completely as she strode forward.

“You witch! Die!” the Dragoon bellowed, charging forward with his spear. He thrust it repeatedly, but Mathilda deftly dodged each strike. Seizing an opportunity, she delivered a powerful punch to the Dragoon’s stomach, doubling him over in pain. With swift precision, Mathilda yanked the black chain from her shoulders, wrapping it around the Dragoon’s neck and tightening her grip, strangling him into submission.

Suddenly, a deafening explosion erupted from the Ashnar Mountains, followed by a thunderous roar echoing in the distance, sending shockwaves through the land.

“What was that?” Duen exclaimed, his gaze drawn to the mountains as the ominous roar echoed. From the volcanic peaks emerged an unknown flying creature, soaring toward the Havone camp. Duen squinted at the approaching beast. Initially resembling a Wyvern from afar, as it drew nearer, its immense size became apparent.

As the creature closed in, Duen’s heart raced. It was colossal, far larger than any Wyvern he had ever seen. “Dragon…is that a dragon..?” he gasped in fear, his voice barely above a whisper. “Incoming!! Dragon!” a Havone soldier’s voice pierced the chaos. The realization hit Duen like a thunderbolt: the ancient legends about the Ashnar mountains harboring a dragon was real.

“Th-the myths were true,” Duen stammered, his voice trembling with fear, “there’s an Ancient Dragon in these mountains.” He watched in horror as the colossal beast soared above the camp, its obsidian scales gleaming in the sunlight. Its massive body stretched over a hundred feet in length, casting a shadow over the entire campsite with wings that blotted out the sun. The powerful flapping of its wings evoked a sense of dread and awe among all who witnessed it.

A tense silence enveloped the atmosphere, broken only by the faint whimpers and the rattling of metal from soldiers who couldn’t suppress their shivers.

The Crimson Knight gazed skyward, her grip unyielding on the black chain coiled around the dragoon’s neck. A sinister smile crept across her face. “He’s awakened… Rhygon’tera… Unleash your chaos on the enemies of Ashnar… For the blood of our brethren has been spilled,” gasped the dragoon, struggling for breath as Mathilda tightened the coil around his neck, strangulating him. Soon, his body went lifeless.

“Ahahaha! An Ancient! It’s real, what a beauty isn’t it? Can you feel its power?” laughed Mathilda excitedly. Leon and Duen exchanged puzzled glances at the Crimson Knight’s demeanor. “That is the weapon we are after,” said Mathilda with a smirk.

“The weapon you are after…?” murmured Duen, shock evident in his voice. “Beatrice was right after all, the Ashnar tribe’s blood must be spilled before Rhygon’tera awakens from its slumber. The legends were true!” explained Mathilda.

“Well done! Lord Father will be proud of you,” she added, looking directly at Leon. Duen’s shock deepened as he struggled to make sense of everything unfolding before him.

A Dragoon, mounted on a Wyvern, swooped down from the sky and stalked towards Mathilda with menacing intent. Ten Ashnar warriors backed him up, forming a circle around the Crimson Knight. “You have angered the spirits of our ancestors! O Rhygon’tera, divine one, protect our people and destroy the enemies!” roared the Dragoon.

“Ahahaha! Heretics! Worshipping a beast, what fools you are,” laughed Mathilda, feeling absurd. Retrieving the black chain coiled around the neck of the lifeless Dragoon, she enchanted it, causing a red aura to glow around her. Holding the tip of the black chain, she materialized a blue icy blade by moving her hands across it. “Lord Father, I will cleanse these sinners,” said Mathilda with a fanatical look in her eyes as she started spinning the chain, creating a whirling sound as the icy blade swirled around her.

With a resounding roar, the Ashnar warriors surged forward towards Mathilda, brandishing their spears and axes in unison. In response, she deftly wielded the chain, unleashing the icy blade with precision. In a flurry of motion, the blade sliced through three warriors, severing their necks with lethal accuracy. Swiftly, she maneuvered the chain, executing intricate flips and spins, dispatching another six warriors with swift, decisive strikes.

As the last remaining warrior attempted to flee, the Crimson Knight swiftly hurled the icy blade, piercing through the air and impaling the fleeing enemy with unwavering accuracy.

The Wyvern lunged forward, snapping its jaws aggressively at Mathilda, who skillfully evaded its attack. Seizing the opportunity, the Dragoon leaped down and thrust his spear at Mathilda, but she deftly parried it with her black chain. With a swift sidestep, she drove the ice blade into his neck.

The Wyvern lunged forward with its claws and tail, aiming to strike Mathilda. She swiftly evaded the attacks, somersaulting backward to create distance before seizing the black chain. With a fluid motion, she retrieved the ice blade from the fallen warrior’s body, twirling the chain around her with precision. Spinning the black chain around her, she somersaulted gracefully through the air, the chain whistling as it spun. With a resounding roar, she swung the chain, sending the ice blade slicing through the air before smoothly returning it to her hand.

Silence enveloped the scene as Mathilda calmly retrieved and draped the black chain around her shoulders. With measured steps, she walked away as the Wyvern crashed onto the ground. Its head cleanly severed from its body. Duen stood in shock, grappling with the one-sided brutality he had just witnessed. “Yes! Crimson Knight Mathilda! Thank Lord Father you’re here!” Leon’s jubilant cry pierced the silence as he raised his fist in celebration.

The Dragon, circling above, descended from the sky with a resounding thud, commanding everyone’s attention. It emitted a powerful grunt, its head raised as it released a deafening roar, echoing through the air. The dragon’s claws gleamed like daggers, capable of slicing through trees effortlessly.

Havone soldiers, trembling in fear, slowly retreated, clutching their swords and shields tightly. Whimpers filled the air as Rhygon’tera advanced towards a frozen Havone soldier. Drool dripped from its monstrous maw as it closed in, its teeth resembling ebony daggers capable of piercing the strongest armor.

Mathilda mounted her horse calmly, ready to depart. “Wait, where are you going? You can’t leave us here,” Leon whispered, gripping the Crimson Knight’s hand. The Black Dragon snapped, its jaws covering half of the Havone soldier in one go as it lifted him into the air before devouring him whole. Screams echoed.

“We are all going to die if you go,” Leon screamed, his voice desperate. “If that happens, it’s in accordance with Lord Father’s will. The chief of Ashnar is still up there; I have to cleanse all the heretics of Ashnar,” Mathilda said coldly. “I’ll return after he feeds,” she added, glancing from the corner of her eyes at Rhygon’tera as it swallowed the soldier whole.

“After he feeds!” murmured Leon as Duen looked on in shock. “You’re leaving us here to die? Where is the main army?” asked Leon desperately. “I am the army,” Mathilda retorted coldly, wrenching her arm away forcefully. With a swift kick, she spurred her horse into a gallop, darting out of the camp towards the Ashnar Mountain, leaving Leon momentarily stunned in her wake.

Rhygon’tera gave a thunderous roar, its chest expanding, glowing fiery red. Vroom! The Ancient Dragon’s fiery breath poured forth from its maw, leaving a trail of scorched earth in its wake. The sounds of screams, panic, and chaos echoed through the air as it turned Havone soldiers to a crisp.

The flames cast a bright glow on the Crimson Knight’s emotionless visage as she galloped away. Duen stood frozen, stunned by the unfolding chaos. Tim’s warning echoed in his mind from their conversation at the ramen joint back in his world—about powerful, unknown forces. “Don’t step on the wrong tail, this is a powerful dragon, they can and will destroy you,” Tim’s voice reverberated in Duen’s head.

“This can’t be happening… Lord Father, grant us strength, deliver us from this darkness,” prayed Leon.

“Help! Run!” shouted Havone soldiers, their voices filled with panic.

As Rhygon’tera unleashed its terror, Duen realized the truth. “The Ancient Dragon is real, this was what they were after all along,” he gasped, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “We’ve stirred the wrong beast… now it’s going to consume us,” Duen realized. “Leon! We need to get out of here!” he yelled, sprinting toward his friend.

“Stand your ground! Hold your ground! Lord Father is with us! Archers, fire!” commanded Leon.

“What are you thinking, Leon?” yelled Duen, shaking him by the shoulders. “We have to get out of here! This wasn’t a reconnaissance mission; we were bait for the Ancient Dragon!” Duen’s horror was palpable. “She’s leaving us here as bait! For it to feed! Don’t you get it!” yelled Duen.

Leon appeared dazed, his disbelief evident. “We must go!” Duen insisted, pulling at Leon’s arm, urging him to flee.

“No… we’ve crossed the Rubicon. If I abandon this now, all our efforts will be in vain,” Leon said, pushing Duen’s hand away.

“What do you mean?” gasped Duen.

“A main battalion is on its way, and victory will be ours upon her return,” Leon said, his gaze fixed in the distance as Duen stared at him in disbelief. “If we leave now, we’ll gain no credit, no honor. All our sacrifices will have been for nothing,” Leon gasped.

“Are you delusional? No main battalion is going to come! What is wrong with you!” Duen yelled desperately. Meanwhile, volleys of arrows fired at Rhygon’tera, only to bounce off its thick obsidian-scaled skin. The Black Dragon charged forward, swiping with its powerful claws, smashing Havone soldiers into the ground and devouring them whole. Its tail swept through the air, sending soldiers flying. As Rhygon’tera’s chest expanded, glowing red, Duen grabbed Leon’s hand and dragged him away just in time. The Black Dragon unleashed its fiery breath, scorching everything in its wake. They leapt and crashed onto the ground, barely escaping the immense heat.

The Crimson Knight thundered into the mountain pass, her steed pounding the ground as she raced toward the entrance of the Ashnar tribe. Above, the Dragoon leader Kyran soared on a Wyvern, his gaze fixed on her, determination etched on his face. “Stop her! Protect the chief!” his command echoed through the sky.

Mathilda’s lips curled in anticipation as she approached, her eyes gleaming with a sinister hunger for carnage. With a malevolent smile, she spurred her horse onward, driving toward the gates of the Ashnar tribe.

Drawing the black chain from her shoulder, she enchanted, conjuring an ice blade at its tip. With fluid grace, she twirled the deadly weapon, each movement a dance of destruction. As she rode, she launched the ice blade with deadly accuracy, cutting down Ashnar warriors who dared to challenge her. One by one, they fell, their spears useless against her relentless onslaught.

As she reached the gate of the tribe, Mathilda swiftly dismounted her horse, facing several Ashnar warriors charging at her. With a deft swing of her chain, the ice blade sliced through a warrior fatally. Another Ashnar warrior lunged with his spear aimed at Mathilda’s neck, but she dodged and seized the spear with one hand, snapping it effortlessly. Using the blade portion of the broken spear, she swiftly decapitated the warrior.

In a fluid motion, Mathilda enchanted an icicle spear and drove it into the torso of another warrior. As his body went limp, she seized his spear and surged forward, impaling three more warriors in a single charge.

Mathilda pulled her black chain and twirled the ice blade around her, slicing through each man, woman, and child she encountered. Those attempting to flee were cut down by the icy weapon. When the carnage ended, 40 Ashnar villagers and warriors lay dead on the ground—a bloody massacre. Mathilda dragged the black chain, leaving a trail of blood as she walked forward. “Monster!” screamed an Ashnar warrior as he fled. Calmly, Mathilda grabbed a spear from a fallen warrior and hurled it, impaling him from behind.

Mathilda advanced towards a temple adorned with intricate dragon statues. “This place must be destroyed, leading men away from the true god, Lord Father,” she declared, her voice resolute.

Suddenly, Kyran’s yell pierced the air as he descended from the sky atop his Wyvern. Its talons aimed for Mathilda, who deftly blocked the attack with her forearms, the impact driving her back. Undeterred, Kyran dismounted and launched into a relentless spear attack. With swift agility, Mathilda dodged and parried each blow, then somersaulted backward to assess the situation.

“Stone of Polaris, Release!” Kyran’s voice thundered as he assumed a battle stance and invoked his enchantment. The green spirit stone embedded in his spear emanated a brilliant glow, sending ripples of energy across the battlefield. With eyes ablaze, Kyran’s Wyvern let out a ferocious screech, its own green spirit stone pulsating with power. “Ah, a live stone,” Mathilda remarked, shielding her eyes from the dust, a smile playing on her lips. “Protect Father! The Dragon Temple must not be breached!” Kyran commanded, positioning himself firmly in front of the temple gates. “Yes, Chief Kyran!” echoed the voices of numerous Ashnar warriors, their spears poised for defense at the temple’s entrance. “Ah, you’re the son of the chieftain, the heir to this heresy,” Mathilda observed with a malevolent grin as she advanced calmly.

An enraged Kyran charged forward, his spear slashing towards Mathilda, she agilely dodged his attacks with swift movements. “Go, Niro!” Kyran commanded his Wyvern, urging the beast to attack alongside him. With a fierce roar, Niro lunged at Mathilda, its talons aiming for her, but she gracefully somersaulted away, narrowly avoiding the deadly strike that left deep cracks in the ground.

Undeterred, the Wyvern swung its mighty tail at Mathilda, but she stood her ground, arms outstretched, absorbing the full force of the blow. The impact pushed her back, the ground cracking beneath her boots as she halted the Wyvern’s attack with sheer strength. Kyran watched in disbelief as Mathilda defied the beast’s power.

With a primal roar, Mathilda seized the Wyvern’s tail, hoisting the creature into the air with a display of immense strength. With a forceful hurl, she flung Niro towards the Dragon Temple, shattering one of its pillars upon impact. “Niro!” Kyran cried out, witnessing his formidable companion crumple to the ground in defeat.

“Witch… What are you?” Kyran murmured helplessly, his voice barely a whisper amidst the chaos. “Ahahaha!” she cackled, reveling in the defeat reflected in Kyran’s eyes. “I am a Havone Temporal Knight, they call me the Crimson Knight,” Mathilda proclaimed, her voice tinged with fanaticism. “Chosen by Lord Father and blessed with his Divine strength. Do you understand now the difference between your false faith and the power of what’s real?”

“I understand none of this! You murdered all my people…” Kyran’s voice cracked with emotion, his eyes filled with tears of anguish. “Why!?” he yelled, consumed by rage and sorrow.

“We are here for the Ancient Black Dragon,” Mathilda explained calmly, her voice devoid of empathy. “Rhygon’tera…” Kyran whispered, the name heavy with significance.

“Your tribe happened to be the key to awakening the Ancient,” Mathilda continued, her tone matter-of-fact. “But you are all heretics. I have to cleanse your entire tribe to serve as an example for all who dare to stand against the might of the Holy Kingdom,” she concluded, her words chillingly cold.

Kyran clenched his fist in rage. “Argh! I’ll kill you!” he roared, charging at Mathilda and slashing his spear toward her. However, Mathilda easily evaded his attacks. Meanwhile, the remaining Ashnar warriors joined the fray, attacking alongside their young chief. Mathilda adeptly dodged and parried all the incoming strikes with her forearms. Sensing the urgency, she somersaulted backwards to create distance, quickly enchanting the air around her hands. With a swift incantation, a sharp icicle spear materialized in her grasp. As the Ashar warriors closed in on her, she swiftly dispatched each one, slicing them to the ground with precision.

“No…” Kyran’s cry echoed helplessly as he witnessed the massacre of his people by Mathilda. Gripping the spear in one hand, he enchanted and charged a green energy bolt with the other. “Argh!” he roared desperately, unleashing the energy projectile at Mathilda. She dodged, and the projectile exploded behind her. Swift as lightning, Mathilda blitzed forward and materialized beside Kyran in an instant.

“Argh…”Kyran groaned in shock, his gaze falling to where Mathilda had impaled the icicle spear into his torso. “Piece of trash,” Mathilda uttered coldly as she met his eyes, then lifted him into the air and hurled him. Kyran crashed and tumbled towards the temple steps, lying there, his breaths heavy as blood oozed onto the floor.

“No…” Kyran whispered, his voice barely audible as he lay prone on the floor, watching helplessly as the Crimson Knight’s boots ascended the sacred steps of the temple. The remaining Ashnar warriors backed away cautiously, their apprehension palpable, as Mathilda strode purposefully into the temple. At the altar, the old chieftain turned, his weathered face reflecting a mixture of resignation and defiance.

“Argh!” The remaining Ashnar warriors rallied, valiantly charging at Mathilda, attempting to thwart her advance. With the icicle spear gripped firmly in her hands, she swiftly dispatched them, each movement calculated and precise. The old chieftain stood his ground, his gaze unwavering as Mathilda approached him slowly.

“You didn’t even release your spirit stone. What manner of monster are you?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief, as Mathilda closed in on him.

“Oh, you’ve realized,” Mathilda smirked. “Since you’re a dying man, I’ll let you in on the secret,” she said, her eyes wide with fanatical zeal. “I’ll let you witness real power, power that Lord Father has bestowed upon me!” Her smile widened as she spoke.

“The power of the Ancient beast, Kraken’Garde!” Mathilda exclaimed as she enchanted, a powerful red spirit energy engulfing her. “An Ancient…” the Chieftain gasped in shock.

“Stone of Devourer, Release!” Mathilda roared as crimson red spirit energy engulfed her. The ground around her feet began to crack as a humongous spirit energy swept through the area. Black and red stripes appeared on Mathilda’s face and skin. From behind her back, six huge tentacled limbs resembling those of a cephalopod broke through her armor. The chieftain was shocked beyond words as he observed the transformation. “What monster are you?” he gasped in fear.

Mathilda fixed her gaze on the chieftain, her tentacled appendages undulating behind her. “This is the pinnacle of divinity, a flawed being like you, will never understand,” she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt.

The chieftain’s puzzled gaze darted around the Crimson Knight, searching for her spirit stone. “Where is your spirit stone?” he murmured, shaking his head in confusion. “No… don’t tell me you…” His words faltered in horror as he began to realize the truth. With a malevolent smile, Mathilda swiftly enchanted one of her tentacles, morphing it into a deadly spear.

“Perish,” she declared coldly, severing the chieftain’s head with merciless precision. “No…” Kyran’s gasp echoed as he struggled to crawl up the temple steps.

Back at the burning Havone camp, Duen rose slowly from the ground, his senses reeling from the chaos they narrowly escaped. Amidst the chaos, the dragon continued its rampage, consuming everything in its path, leaving devastation in its wake. Only a handful of soldiers remained, their faces etched with fear and despair.

Leon, sitting amidst the ashes, prayed fervently for divine intervention. “Leon, you’re alright,” Duen exclaimed with relief, his voice tinged with disbelief at their survival. “I sensed something, a colossal surge of spirit energy. Could it be the Temporal Knight?” Duen wondered aloud, attempting to gather his bearings amidst the billowing smoke and raging flames that engulfed the camp.

“Leon, we have to move!” urged Duen urgently as he hoisted Leon to his feet. Having battled a mythical-grade beast, Zycosas, previously, Duen knew this encounter was on a whole different scale. The Ancient Dragon was far more superior and lethal. As they stumbled, Rhygon’tera pivoted and caught sight of them. The colossal beast bore down on them, its chest swelling and glowing red. “Damn!” Duen gasped, while Leon’s face paled in the eerie light emanating from Rhygon’tera’s chest.

“Stone of Eternity, Release!” Duen’s voice thundered across the chaos as he brandished his dagger, unleashing the power of his spirit stone. The diamond-white stone gleamed with blinding brilliance, casting a radiant aura across the battlefield. With a surge of energy, Rhygon’tera unleashed a torrent of dragon fire aimed at Leon, but Duen leaped forward, shielding his companion with the colossal fiery wings of the Phoenix.

“Duen…?” Leon’s voice trembled with awe as he beheld the majestic power of the Phoenix, its wings forming an impenetrable barrier against the dragon’s flames. In the midst of the inferno, they stood unscathed, while destruction raged around them, turning all to ashes in its wake.

As the dragon fire waned, Duen turned to Leon, urgency etched on his face. “Leon! Go!” he urged, gesturing for his friend to flee. With a determined nod, Leon sprinted away, pursued relentlessly by the wrathful Rhygon’tera.

As Mathilda prepared to depart from the Ashar temple, she sensed the powerful release of an Ancient spirit, startling her. “What was that?” she exclaimed, her curiosity piqued. “Another Ancient! It originated from the camps,” she declared, her excitement palpable. “Another Ancient weapon for the Holy Kingdom!” she proclaimed, her eyes reflecting a fanatical zeal.

With a fierce yell, Mathilda swung her tentacle arms like a whip, shattering every pillar in the temple as she made her way out. A thunderous rumbling ensued as the walls of the temple began to collapse and crash.

“Ahahaha!” she laughed triumphantly, storming out of the wreckage with eagerness, heading toward the Havone campsite. She was eager to uncover the nature of the other Ancient power that had appeared.

As the walls crumbled, Kyran, barely breathing, lay sprawled on the cold, unforgiving ground. “Father… I’ve failed you,” he whispered, the weight of his failures echoing through his mind. Memories of his past played before his eyes like a relentless tapestry.

“Kyran, you are my son, and soon, you will become the chieftain of the Ashnar tribe. There’s much I expect from you,” said the Chieftain to a 13-year-old Kyran in a vivid flashback. “Those words had etched an unyielding purpose into my heart,” thought Kyran.

“I have spent my life relentlessly striving to meet father’s towering expectations. From a tender age, I immersed myself in the rigorous training of the Dragoons. I joined my fellow Dragoons in the battlefield while still a youth, determined to honor the legacy of the Ashnar people. We were proud descendants of the Black Dragon King Rhygon’tera. I dedicated my life to safeguarding the Ashnar tribe’s way of life,” Kyran reflected as the flashback unfolded.

“But now… everything has been lost,” he gasped, the realization heavy in his heart, as a wall descended upon him, shrouding him in darkness.