Chapter 4: Invasion

Marci's knees hit the planks hard enough to splinter bark. Blood from Master's wounds soaked into his pants, warm and final. Four swords. Four. The old man's eyes stared at nothing, silver hair matted dark.

Useless.

The word looped in his skull. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't 

"Marci!"

Kael's voice loud, alive cut through the smoke.

Marci looked up.

They were running across the swaying bridge: Kael waving wildly, Lira scanning for threats, Torin steady behind, and Fyumi Fyumi right in front, eyes wide with worry.

"Marci, over here! We heard the alarms "

An invader blurred from the shadows. Blade flashed.

Kael's shout died in a wet gurgle as steel punched through his chest.

Lira spun, spear half-raised another flash, another blade, this one through her throat.

Torin reached for her too slow. An arrow took him in the eye.

Fyumi froze mid-step. "Marci... help "

The invader lunged. Dagger sank into her side. She gasped, blood blooming on her shirt, sentence cut forever.

Time stopped.

Marci watched them fall one by one, like leaves in wind. His friends. His crush. Bleeding out on the same platform where he'd trained yesterday.

Useless.

Something cracked inside him.

Sadness flooded first cold, crushing, legs trembling. Then rage hot, blinding, boiling up from the roots of his soul.

His calves burned. Ghostly scales shimmered over muscle, dragon legs coiling with raw emotion.

He wanted to save them. Needed to. Will surged desperate, unbreakable. Translucent wings of light tore from his shoulders, ragged and furious, lifting him an inch off the blood-slick wood.

And then the roar.

It started in his chest, a vibration that rattled his teeth, then exploded outward. Sound became weapon. In his hands, light condensed, hardened black obsidian dagger, crimson veins pulsing like angry heartbeats.

The roar shook the redwoods.

Marci moved.

First invader barely turned. Dagger sliced clean through armor, throat, spine. Body dropped before the scream started.

Second raised a sword Marci was already there, wings snapping, propelling him forward. Slash. Gut open. Third tried to run legs caught him mid-leap, dragon strength crushing bone.

Cut.

The platform became a blur.

Arrows whistled wings deflected them like leaves. A spear thrust dagger parried, counter-slash took the arm, then the head.

Invaders screamed. Some fled upward. Most died.

Marci's roar echoed again deeper, primal. Each kill fed the rage, legs pumping faster, wings carrying him over gaps, dagger singing through flesh and steel.

Blood sprayed in arcs, catching the firelight. Bodies piled. The air tasted of copper and pine smoke.

One last invader leader, maybe swung a massive axe. Marci ducked, wings folding tight, then exploded upward. Dagger drove through chin, out the top of the skull.

Silence.

The roar faded.

Wings dissolved. Legs shimmered away. Dagger vanished in a puff of crimson light.

Marci stood in the center, chest heaving, hands shaking.

Around him: carnage. Invaders in heaps. His master still impaled. Kael, Lira, Torin crumpled, bleeding but breathing shallow. Fyumi curled on her side, hand pressed to her wound, eyes fluttering open.

He'd saved them.

He'd killed everything else.

Horror crashed in like cold water.

What... had he done?