Arinthal's veins burned. A sudden, surge of velori rushed through his body, unbinding the restrictions on his wild magic. He didn't understand why, but the moment the young lord had bound him in those suffocating sand chains, his focus had sharpened. Looking down at Ivor, Arinthal's blue eyes radiated raw power. With a harsh flex of his own energy, he disrupted the spell, watching the sand chains slowly fracture and crumble from his hands.
Ivor's eyes widened in surprise, but he did not falter. Reacting instantly, Ivor summoned a devastating storm of sand spikes in a sixty-meter radius, launching them at Arinthal like a volley of ballista bolts. Arinthal smirked, rushing just before the spikes could impale him.
But Ivor was already a step ahead. Predicting exactly where the silver-haired elf would reappear, Ivor slammed his foot down, sending violent seismic waves ripping through the earth. The moment Arinthal's boots touched the ground, the concussive waves threw off his balance. Before he could recover, a massive column of sand erupted beneath him, launching him into the air. The sand violently formed a giant, crushing hand that gripped Arinthal tight and slammed him mercilessly back into the dirt.
The impact knocked the wind from Arinthal's lungs, leaving him gasping as blood welled in the back of his throat. Seeing his opening, Ivor lunged forward to finish him off.
Desperate, Arinthal forced his energy to manifest. Before Ivor could deliver the killing blow, multiple blinding strings of blue velori erupted from the crater, cutting through the heavy sand like butter. Six concentrated beams of energy shot directly at Ivor. The raider unsheathed one of his sabers in a frantic attempt to deflect them, but the sheer velocity of the burst shattered his blade with ease. The remaining energy pierced the left side of his chest. Only Ivor's legendary reflexes saved his heart, allowing him to twist just enough to let the beam draw blood instead of claiming his life.
Ivor recoiled, touching the crimson wound. He rubbed the wet substance between his fingers, staring at it in disbelief. "So, this is my blood, huh? It's my first time seeing it. Bravo, beast. You just earned my respect," Ivor said, his hazel eyes locking onto Arinthal with a dangerous new intensity.
"Your respect does not concern me," Arinthal spat, struggling to find his footing as he wiped a trail of blood from his own chin.
Ivor remained silent for a beat. Then, a thin, menacing smile curled the corner of his lips. He raised his remaining weapon to the heavens.
"Master Raider of Ea, heed my call. Transform me from dust to power. Bring forth your divine glory... Skaelos!"
A golden light erupted around Ivor, searing the air and temporarily blinding Arinthal. Golden ribbons of velori wove tightly around Ivor, hardening into a brilliant set of divine armor as his power spiked to an insane, terrifying level. When the light faded, twin amber sabers materialized in his grip.
Ivor moved with terrifying, invisible speed. Before Arinthal could even react to the displacement of air, an amber blade flashed. The strike slashed deeply across Arinthal's torso, ripping through flesh and fabric alike. Arinthal cried out, a guttural sound of pure agony, as he stumbled backward. He raised his sword to defend himself, but Ivor's godlike speed bypassed his guard completely.
A brutal, heavy kick slammed into Arinthal's chest, shattering ribs and sending him crashing heavily through a stone pillar. He rolled into the dirt, coughing up blood. His vision blurred; his limbs felt heavy, completely unresponsive. The velori inside him was flickering out like a dying candle.
"Arinthal Calanthir, is your name I presume?" Ivor grinned wildly, stepping forward as his twin sabers hissed with raw heat. "As a reward for making me see my own blood, I will fight you with a quarter of my full power!"
Arinthal couldn't even speak. He lay in the wreckage, his fingers trembling against the dirt as he tried to push his broken body up. Death was standing over him. As Ivor raised an amber blade high, preparing to bring it down to cleave the elf in two, Arinthal closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable end. He had nothing left.
He was entirely unaware of the ancient grimoire's rules dormant within his soul, wholly oblivious that a slain dragon's soul could bind to its killer to survive.
In the exact millisecond Ivor's blade descended to execute him, Arinthal's subconscious broke. Deep within his locked magic, a primordial roar echoed.
Without Arinthal uttering a single word, the sky turned to ash. Suddenly, the roaring, illusory image of an enormous sea demigod materialized directly behind his broken body. The dragon Alpheus soared violently into the air. Before Ivor's blade could touch Arinthal's neck, the massive entity descended with ferocious, terrifying acceleration, crashing directly down into Arinthal's physical form.
The violent, unprompted fusion forced a horrific, shattered scream from Arinthal's lungs as his body was forcibly rebuilt by the dragon's essence. The shockwave exploded outward, throwing Ivor back several meters.
Arinthal stood up like a marionette pulled by unseen strings, his mind entirely blank, caught in a blind, agonizing trance. His silver hair shifted to a deep, azure hue. His pupils dilated into sharp slits. The sheer, violent expansion of the dragon's energy tore his cloak, shirt, and boots to shreds, leaving him bare-chested except for a glowing, water-droplet mark burning into his forehead.
Driven by the dragon's survival instinct rather than his own conscious mind, Arinthal's body lunged first. He thrust his sword toward Ivor's chest. Ivor parried the strike with his left saber and slashed back with his right. Arinthal somersaulted backward, his hijacked muscles unleashing a frantic flurry of sword strikes—moves so incredibly fast they were completely invisible to the naked eye. Yet, even with Alpheus overriding him, Ivor was a god of war. He ferociously matched the onslaught, his amber blades meeting Arinthal's azure steel.
The shockwaves from their brutal exchanges tore the immediate buildings to pieces. The Sarvski soldiers, entirely oblivious to the true scale of their lord's catastrophic duel, continued burning the city. With every desperate parry, Arinthal's body was driven further backward, bones cracking under the strain as the battle dragged them ever closer to King Igresi's palace.
Meanwhile, inside the high, stone walls of the Royal Palace, Aetheris stood behind a massive arched window, watching the battle with deep intensity.
Behind her sat King Igresi, his face grimly pressed into the backs of his hands.
"There's no doubting it now," Aetheris muttered, her voice trembling slightly. "That elf is a magical prodigy."
"Why do you say so?" King Igresi asked without looking up.
"When he first arrived from Aetheria, he wielded velori with the clumsy grace of a two-year-old," Aetheris responded, her eyes locked onto the distant flashes of blue and amber light. "I gave him just one lesson on channeling velori, alongside a grimoire on dragon souls. Now, an insane amount of power is forcing its way out of him, and he is going head-on against a Sarvski Lord. He isn't doing it on purpose—his magic is acting out of pure survival instinct."
"Is that so?" Igresi said, his eyes narrowing as he finally stood up.
"Is there any true source of concern, Master?"
"Yes. That elf might be exactly what the Zyrean Syndicate has been searching for to ages."
"What does the Zyrean Syndicate want with him?"Aetheris lowered her head.
"There is a popular poem written deep within the restricted libraries of Arckeld's domain. Now that I see his body breaking out there under that stolen power... I realize it's a prophecy."
"Well, if I may ask, what are the words of this prophecy, my King?" Aetheris asked, a nagging curiosity breaking through her stoic demeanor.
Igresi stared out at the burning city, his voice dropping to a low, solemn whisper:
"Risen on a blood moon,
Washed by sorrow.
His first name is Vengeance,
And his last Doom.
Broken powers reborn,
A celestial's nightmare.
A world's end is his beginning."
"That poem is just a fragment of a much larger text," Igresi laughed bitterly, a hollow sound in the quiet room. "But this piece alone seems to make terrifying meaning to the fools in Zyrea."
Aetheris stood completely frozen, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of the free verse. She was trying so hard to piece the riddle together that she failed to notice a sound right outside.
Before she could turn around, a blood-soaked Sarvski raider breached the balcony, pulling himself up onto the window ledge with a bared blade.