Chapter 32 - To Be a Monster

Flames wrapped around the charred figure standing before Atbara. The vampire drew his rapier, preparing for the confrontation ahead.

"Kaliga..." the burning man growled, his jaw clenched in fury. "With these flames, I curse your essence, as I myself am cursed."

His battle axe began to hum and twist, consumed by his dark fire as it merged with an eerie green blaze. Within the steel, something was forming, a reptilian eye, enormous and black as the void, swelling beneath the metal until it opened with a terrible flash. The instant its lid parted, a wave of scorching heat erupted outward like a storm, withering every leaf on every tree in an instant.

"Damn it! Where did all this heat come from?" Atbara hissed, shielding himself behind his outstretched wings, their leathery span glowing red from the blast.

When the inferno subsided, the burning warrior gripped his axe and struck the ground with such force that the soil cracked beneath him. The flames surrounding his body surged higher, and his gaze locked on Atbara's with unholy intensity. Then, from his back, skeletal wings materialized, bone and sinew outlined in fire, giving the Lich the dreadful appearance of a hellish lord risen from the abyss.

Atbara froze, eyes wide, a chill of fear running down his spine. He stepped back instinctively, heart hammering. Before he could act, the skeletal warrior lunged at impossible speed, his fire devouring everything it touched. Atbara darted upward to evade the attack, catching a glimpse of the burning trail the creature had left in his wake.

Then, pain.

His leg was severed clean in half.

"Khhaaaahhkg!" he screamed as his dismembered limb plummeted into the forest below.

Ignoring the agony for a heartbeat, Atbara looked down to see the burning figure soaring after him.

"He can fly, too..." he muttered, spreading his own bat-like wings in desperation. The Lich swung his axe, and even the motion of it shattered dozens of trees, setting the forest ablaze in an instant.

Atbara could hardly believe it. The mere swing of that weapon had annihilated half the woodland, countless forest creatures died in a blink as the Lich ascended, relentless, his flaming wings cutting through the smoke.

"Khhgk... I have no choice," Atbara growled. "If I stay down there, the whole forest will burn."

He soared higher into the sky, the burning man following close behind, his flames like a comet tearing through the night. When Atbara reached the upper air, one of the moons shone full above him, bathing him in silver light.

"Evektra diamur!"

The Lich rose higher still, but for the first time, he hesitated, stunned by what he saw. As the clouds parted, Atbara's silhouette began to change. The sound of tearing flesh and cracking bones echoed through the air as his body reshaped itself, his form expanding beyond recognition, hidden and revealed in flashes of moonlight.

When he finally emerged from the veil of clouds, Atbara was no longer a vampire. He had become a monstrous bat of pure darkness, seven meters tall, his eyes glowing redder than dragon's blood. His vast, muscular frame rippled with power, every movement radiating raw predatory instinct. Massive wings unfurled behind him, each beat stirring whirlwinds of air, and the sight of his hooked talons glinting in the moonlight announced the rise of a true creature of the night, a beast born of rage, shadow, and cursed fire.

"My son?" said Igorus, his voice carrying a reaction that seemed to say everything and nothing all at once, as if the world itself had collapsed under the weight of those words. As if everything he had ever believed suddenly made no sense.

"If ye wish tae stop this inevitable war, lad, there is a way, though it may demand drastic measures come the morrow," said Alfons gravely. "I ken well how ye feel. Ye've already lost one member o' yer family, an' ye'd rather not lose another."

"H-how do you kn—"

"Ach, I can tell from how others speak. I've lived long enough tae see these things clear as day. These books ye see around? They're the fruit o' me life's work, poured onto parchment an' ink. I ken too well that losin' someone dear hurts far worse than losin' oneself. A physical death breeds a death within. Would that there were no more deaths at all," said Alfons, his eyes distant as the memory of his massacred family surfaced, contradicting the very words he spoke.

Igorus looked at him with an expression that seemed to say he no longer wished to believe anything.

"There are no mighty souls without sacrifice. That's the prime law o' war. Ye dinnae fight for yerself alone, but for all who've placed their faith upon yer shoulders. Choose, Igorus, the easy path, to slay yer own son, or the hard one, to slay all yer enemies?" said Alfons, staring him dead in the eye.

"To slay them all? Alone?" asked Igorus.

"Sounds mad, aye, I ken. 'Tis easier tae fight angels with yer army, sure. But the old draconic legends tell that the last dragon's final breath was so fierce, so scaldin', it burned an' slew every Dramyte alive, leavin' only Uanamangura an' Bakabali standin'. The spirits o' the first dragons gave power an' direction tae that breath. But aye, it's but a legend. Takin' the word o' a dead race sounds absurd, eh? Yet this world o' ours is bound by chains o' absurdity. Tell me, Igorus, do ye feel bound by them chains yerself?" said Alfons provocatively.

"Chains of absurdity... I'm not sure how much of this is true, but I can't just stand idle. The barriers weaken after eight years. I hope I'll find the right moment," said Igorus, tightening his left fist.

"I see... This weakenin' will nae be like the last one. There'll be more blood spilled this time," muttered Alfons darkly.

"I've seen blood most of my life. A little more won't make any difference," said Igorus, his eyes glowing with a fiery hue.

Alfons felt the dreadful presence Igorus carried within him. He could see the endless flames of his soul consuming everything nearby, the birds burning in their flight, the claws of a dragon seizing the sky with its wrath.

"Yer spirit tells me ye speak no lies. Ye truly are... the Last Dragon," said Alfons proudly.

"That was kinda cringe," whispered Elionarta's voice in his mind.

"Aye, I ken," muttered Alfons quietly to himself.

"Hm!?" reacted Igorus, having heard him mumble.

"N-Nothing! I reckon I've explained everything ye wished tae ken... or at least as much as I could," said Alfons awkwardly.

"You've helped me more than I expected. I'm deeply grateful," said Igorus sincerely.

"Even though I've told ye all this, the bad news is ye cannae act for eight years. But... if ye make the right choice, ye might yet stop the Twelfth Kindu's plans. Ye must wait, an' tell nae soul what I've said," warned Alfons.

"Eight years is nothing to me. I can do that," said Igorus calmly.

"Aye, I forgot I was speakin' tae a divine bein'," said Alfons, scratching his mane of hair.

"I have one more question, though not as important as the others," said Igorus.

"About what ye saw inside Zangh'Untres, eh?" asked Alfons knowingly.

"Y-Yes. It was truly strange, mysterious. I never imagined the shield would conceal such a place," said Igorus.

"The sky there reflects the roots o' the traveler's soul as they drift above the crimson clouds. In other words, the bones o' dragons," said Alfons.

"Yes! They were dragon bones, truly!" said Igorus with the excitement of a child.

"As for the rest, this book will guide ye," said Alfons, reaching down to a lower shelf and pulling out a black-covered book. It had no title.

"This one?" asked Igorus, taking the book from Alfons's hand.

"The only untitled book in this library, an' the only one I didnae write. Ye'll learn more if ye can decipher it," said Alfons.

"I see. It's gotten late. I should go," said Igorus.

"I wish ye all the best, an' good fortune in the life ahead, Igorus Friola," said Alfons warmly.

"Likewise. It's been an honor to meet you," said Igorus, shaking his hand in friendship.

"Hope we cross paths again someday," said Alfons.

"We will. Farewell," said Igorus, unfurling his wings and flying through the grand corridor of the library. A distorted portal appeared before him, and thus he vanished from the underground world of the Morloks. As the sunlight faded from the library halls, its inhabitants began to move again.

"Bloody hell, I said far too much... That's what happens when ye've got centuries without proper company," muttered Alfons as Morloks passed by, minding their work.

He began walking toward the inner corridor, where within the tree's trunk there rested a strange crimson egg, its surface marked with faint golden cracks, as though something inside was about to hatch...