Zoraxin, The One That Should Not Bow

The sky broke its rhythm.

Not with thunder.
Not with light.

With silence.

Clouds above the plaza slowed — not drifting, not dispersing — simply stopped, as if Heaven itself had been ordered to wait.

Kael’s lightning vanished mid-spark.

“…No way,” he breathed.

Lyra’s breath caught in her throat.

Above them, the Crystal Heart dimmed — just a fraction — like something vast had passed between it and the world.

Then—

A roar tore through Heaven.

Not loud.

Absolute.

It wasn’t sound.
It was pressure.

A roar that crushed instinct itself.

The sky split.

Something descended.

Scales like obsidian glass streaked with molten gold tore through the upper clouds. Wings wider than cloud-bridges folded as the creature emerged, its mass bending light around it like a wound in reality.

The plaza did not shake.

Heaven yielded.

Every soldier dropped to one knee.

Every attendant bowed without thinking.

Even Kael’s body locked — muscles refusing command, lightning snuffed out as if it had never existed.

Lyra whispered, voice shaking:

“…Zoraxin.”

The dragon landed.

Not crashing.
Not gently.

Deliberately.

Its claws pressed into marble — glowing fissures spreading outward, only to seal instantly, as if Heaven refused to remember being harmed.

Eyes like twin suns opened.

And Haise felt it.

Not fear.

Hunger.

Not for flesh.

For certainty.

His throat went dry.

“…A dragon,” he whispered, the word barely leaving his lips.

Kael’s voice cracked behind him.

“Haise—don’t look at it!”

Too late.
Every instinct screamed run.

His body didn’t move.

Zoraxin’s gaze swept the plaza.

Indifferent.
Unimpressed.

Until—

It stopped.

On him.

The dragon leaned forward.

Its shadow swallowed Haise whole.

“HAISE—MOVE!” Kael shouted, voice breaking.

Haise couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t blink.

His legs refused to move.

His lungs forgot how to breathe.

“…So this is Heaven,” he thought faintly.
“Even here… I don’t get to run.”

The dragon leaned forward.

The pressure alone drove cracks through the marble beneath Haise’s feet.

The dragon’s head lowered.

Closer.

Closer.

Haise swallowed hard.

“…Hey,” he tried, voice shaking despite himself.
“…I’m not worth it.”

No response.

"It's Jaws opened."

A bitter thought slipped through the fear.

“…Guess I’m bad at birthdays.”

Heat flooded the air — not fire, but judgment, old and unquestionable.

Lyra screamed his name.

The roar exploded from Zoraxin’s throat.

A killing roar.

Heaven believed it.

Everyone did.

This is it.

His hands trembled at his sides.

Rain flashed in his memory.

Headlights.
Cold asphalt.

Haise’s chest tightened.

So this is how it ends again.

He didn’t run.
Didn’t beg.
Didn’t scream.

He just stood there — frozen — eyes locked on a creature that had never spared anything in its path.

Then—

Zoraxin stopped.

Mid-roar.

The sound cut off like a breath held too long.

The dragon tilted its head.

Confused.

Curious.

Haise frowned despite the terror.
"...What?" he whispered.

Its massive snout lowered closer — far too close — until its breath brushed Haise’s hair.

He flinched — but it didn’t strike.

It leaned in.

Too close.

Haise’s voice cracked.

“…If you’re going to kill me,” he said quietly,
“…don’t hesitate.”

Zoraxin released a sound.

Not a roar.

A low, rumbling whuff — like a giant creature trying to understand something fragile.

Then—

It nudged him.

Gently.

The plaza froze.

The dragon that had burned cities.
The dragon that bowed to no one.

Pressed its forehead against Haise’s chest.

Like a child.

Like something that had found something it was never supposed to find.

Haise’s knees nearly gave out.

Kael stared, mouth open.

“…That’s impossible.”

Lyra couldn’t speak.

Zoraxin rumbled again — softer now, almost impatient.

As if asking:

Why are you shaking?

Haise’s heartbeat thundered.

Something deep inside him responded — wrong, out of rhythm, older than fear.

“…You’re not playing, are you?” he whispered.
“…You’re deciding.”

Zoraxin pulled back.

Its eyes burned brighter.

Not calm.

Not gentle.

Uncertain.

Then—

It inhaled.

The air screamed.

Heat folded inward toward Zoraxin’s throat — not fire yet, but the promise of it. Space itself seemed to compress, colors warping as if Heaven was bracing for erasure.

Kael couldn’t move.

Lyra couldn’t scream.

Every instinct in the plaza knew what came next.

This wasn’t play.

This wasn’t curiosity.

This was judgment reconsidered — and decided.

Haise stood frozen beneath the dragon’s shadow.

His legs wouldn’t move.

His voice wouldn’t come.

The memory of rain flickered through his mind.

So this is how it ends again.

Zoraxin’s chest expanded.

Flames gathered behind its teeth — bright enough to paint the clouds gold.

"...Yeah," he murmured, almost to himself.
"...this feels familiar."

The world narrowed to a single moment.

A single breath.

And one question no one could answer:

Why hadn’t it killed him already?

The fire ignited.

✦ END OF CHAPTER 3 - Zoraxin, The One That Should Not Bow ✦