Without warning, a blade manifested from the thin air. It was "Gramdir," the pinnacle of dwarven craftsmanship and a legendary treasure long thought lost to the world. The dwarves had frequently pestered Astion about it, demanding the return of their heirloom since he never seemed to wield it. Yet now, after a decade of silence, the weapon finally showed its edge. With a single, sharp arc, the sword cleaved the approaching Hellfire in two.
Kwooooooooom!
The bifurcated inferno slammed into the city's protective veil and detonated. Watching from a distance, Darbaska was paralyzed by shock.
"A sword…?"
Astion was supposed to be a sorcerer. Throughout the entire Great War, he had never once relied on a blade. While whispers suggested he possessed physical prowess beyond a typical mage, Darbaska now saw that he moved with a grace exceeding most superhumans. But to slice a 9th-Circle incantation with raw steel? And to do so while drenched in blood, appearing moments away from death?
"Astion, what is the meaning of—"
As Darbaska stammered, the man before him cut him off with a chilling declaration.
"I am not Astion."
"What…?"
"Just view me as the person who will end your life."
The awakened Ghislain began to emit a suffocating wave of murderous intent.
Rumble!
Astion had achieved the 9th Circle, and by consuming the Dragon Heart, his mana reserves had swelled to a level no mortal could hope to match. Now, the artificial cores Ghislain had forged began to churn and multiply that immense power.
Kwooooooooom!
A tempest of crimson energy erupted around him. The red radiance dancing along his blade seemed to pulse with a predatory hunger.
Whoosh!
A streak of scarlet light tore through the air. Pure survival instinct forced Darbaska to lunge to the side.
Swoosh!
Though only a thin red line had passed by, a deep, jagged wound tore open across Darbaska's chest, spraying blood.
"Kh! You… how is this possible?"
Darbaska was reeling. Only seconds ago, his opponent was a broken man who had surrendered to despair. Now, he was a font of overwhelming power, moving at a velocity that even a dragon's eyes struggled to follow.
There was no pause for understanding. Within the gloom, more red flashes struck like bolts of lightning.
Slash! Slash! Slash!
Darbaska channeled his mana to defend himself, narrowly avoiding a lethal blow, yet dozens of gashes manifested across his skin in an instant. He was being overwhelmed. He had never suspected his foe possessed such sword mastery—so why had he kept it concealed?
As the question burned in his mind, Darbaska retreated high into the atmosphere. To remain in human form was to risk decapitation with every heartbeat.
Kwooooooooom!
He let his mana explode, clearing the immediate vicinity. Amidst the swirling debris and light, Darbaska reverted to his primordial state.
Kraaaaaaah!
An earth-shattering roar rocked the city foundations. The gargantuan blue dragon turned his head, his maw unhinging.
The red line was closing in again. He needed to dominate the entire space and vaporize his pursuer.
Kwooooooooom!
A torrent of lightning-charged breath surged from his throat. No mortal, regardless of their strength, could survive such a direct impact.
Yet the impossible occurred.
Rumble!
The scarlet streak cut right through the center of the draconic breath, continuing its charge. Darbaska stared in horror. What kind of energy was capable of parting a dragon's breath?
Crunch!
Before he could process the sight, the blade arrived, tearing through his massive jaw.
"Gwaaaah!"
Darbaska thrashed his head and lashed out with his claws. Ghislain did not retreat; he met the attack head-on.
Slash! Slash! Slash!
The red energy spiraled up the dragon's limb like a cyclone. Scales were shorn away and flesh was stripped, revealing bone in a matter of heartbeats.
"Grrraaah!"
Bellowing in agony, Darbaska recoiled. Even so, he refused to accept defeat. He was a Great Dragon. Mobilizing his vast mana, he began to weave complex spells. Hundreds of glowing geometric circles filled the sky, preparing to unleash a cataclysm.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
The magical bombardment descended like a localized hurricane. Ghislain moved with explosive force, parrying, weaving, and absorbing the brunt of the chaos.
Thud!
"Haa…"
As he touched down on the earth, a red vapor escaped his lips. Above, Darbaska was already circling higher into the clouds.
With eyes full of incandescent rage, the dragon roared, "You hid this power? All this time? For what end?"
With such might, the conflict with the Demonic Realm could have been settled far sooner. Instead, Astion had played the role of the support mage, guarding the rear.
Ghislain remained silent. The truth was something a dragon could never grasp, and frankly, Ghislain hadn't even desired this resurrection.
His physical vessel was starting to buckle. Time was a luxury he didn't have.
'The 9th Circle isn't enough…'
Astion possessed the mana of the 9th Circle, but the output from the five cores was too much for a human frame to contain. The body—which had already once rejected Ghislain's essence—was beginning to fracture again. Only the constitution of a dragon could safely house this much power.
Ghislain controlled his breathing and locked eyes with Darbaska.
'Julien, Deneb.'
His mercenary comrades were still in the line of fire. He needed to turn this lizard into a carcass and move on.
Clench.
Ghislain bared his teeth. Mana detonated from his form, causing the very ground to tremble.
'The elves, the dwarves, the Empire…'
And the dragons.
The memory of their betrayal stoked a furnace of rage within him, mirroring the fury he felt when Ferdium fell.
'I will slaughter every single one of you.'
Through Astion's memories, Ghislain had witnessed the treachery. He had absorbed the bitter truth while drifting in a semi-conscious state. He hadn't expected the betrayal to be so universal. Astion had made plans, but they had proven insufficient.
He had to move now—retrieve Deneb and flee. Only then could he pave the road for vengeance.
Rumble!
Ghislain hoisted his sword. The sanguine energy wrapped around it writhed, desperate for blood.
From the heavens, Darbaska's laughter echoed.
"Strength alone won't save you! A human cannot win a sky battle against a dragon! You can't even cast magic properly from down there!"
Kwooooooooom!
The sky was once again littered with hundreds of magic circles. A sustained barrage would eventually break even Ghislain.
But Ghislain's gaze didn't waver. "Magic? I have no use for that."
"Hahahahaha! Then perish in the dirt like the worm you are!"
"Dark."
Ghislain spoke the name softly.
Flash!
Suddenly, a massive concentration of energy materialized above Darbaska. The dragon looked up in alarm.
An immense avian figure made of sapphire light—towering over even the dragon—appeared, pinning Darbaska's wings with its talons.
"W-what is this?!"
Dark hissed with contempt. "I am the Apostle of Justice, the Spirit King. You disloyal lizard scum."
Boom!
As Dark's power surged, the impact sent Darbaska tumbling out of the sky. Ghislain's amplified mana had given Dark enough strength to momentarily overpower a dragon.
Thud!
Darbaska slammed into the earth with a violent crash, sending a plume of dust into the air. He tried to raise his head, but a red streak was already roaring across the horizon toward him.
Panic-stricken, he opened his jaws to fire a desperate breath.
Kwooooooooom!
The blast was unfocused and erratic, but the surrounding spells reinforced it. The entire magical weight of the dragon flew toward the red line. He believed nothing could pierce that wall.
He was wrong.
Kwooooooooom!
The red streak shredded through every layer of magic and kept coming. The earth cracked and the air screamed. Its momentum was terrifying, but it was the face behind the light that truly froze Darbaska's blood.
A man with eyes of burning crimson, radiating pure death.
Darbaska felt a sensation he had never experienced.
'Am I… afraid? Of a mere mortal?'
He had felt hatred for the Adversary, but never this—the cold terror of a predator closing in.
Kraaaaaah!
To drown out the fear, he roared and lunged forward. To hesitate was to die.
Crash!
Ghislain's sword, having already pierced the magical defenses, aimed straight for the dragon. Darbaska didn't flinch, concentrating his entire mana pool into a single counter-strike.
The two forces collided.
Kwooooooooom!
The sky seemed to fracture, and the ground warped. Blue and red light violently merged before exploding into a blinding white flash.
Fwaaaash…
As the dust began to settle and the light receded, a silence fell.
"Kh…!"
Darbaska stared down at his chest in shock. The tiny human had driven the blade directly into his Dragon Heart. The internal explosion of energy had pulverized his life-source.
"You… what are you…?" he wheezed.
Why hide this power? Why let the Saintess fall? Why become this monster?
"This is… just like what the Lord described ten years ago… the Mad Mage Astion…"
Ghislain offered no reply. He didn't care for the words of a dying beast. He simply yanked the sword from the shattered heart.
"Grrrk…"
Darbaska vomited blood, his regenerative powers failing as his core crumbled. With a final look of pure resentment, he collapsed.
Thud!
Standing over the dragon's remains, Ghislain buckled, gritting his teeth.
"Kh…"
The strain of the power was agonizing; blood dripped from his chin. But he couldn't stop.
Dark, having returned to the form of a small bird, chirped anxiously.
"Master! One is down, but seven remain! You can't keep this up, your body is falling apart!"
"…I'm getting Deneb out of here."
He could likely kill a few more if he was willing to let his body disintegrate, but seven dragons—including the formidable Arterion—was an impossible task alone.
"I need Lionel and the others."
With his companions, they could manage the dragons one-on-one. He needed to find them.
"Let's move."
Boom!
Ghislain reignited his power and sped toward the sounds of the other battles.
'Julien, just hold on.'
Julien was the key. If she survived, they could form a defensive line and escape the pursuit.
Kwooooooooom!
A red streak shot through the air like a bullet.
—
Boom!
Lionel was sent skidding back by Grondal's heavy strike. The battlefield was a mess of craters and trenches where Lionel had been forced to hold his ground.
Thud.
Grondal rested his halberd on the ground.
"You look exhausted, Lionel."
Lionel was indeed flagging after his earlier bouts with the dragons. The other dwarves stood back, following Grondal's orders to stay out of the duel—a final shred of warrior's pride.
Lionel wiped his brow and grinned.
"You don't look so fresh yourself."
"..."
"I can do this for days, Grondal."
It wasn't an empty boast. As the Saintess's Shield, Lionel was built for endurance.
Lionel's grin turned mocking. "Why not call your friends? You've already thrown away your loyalty—why stop at honor?"
Grondal's face twisted in anger. He gripped his halberd.
"This ends now. I'll break that shield. And if that fails, I'll forget my conscience entirely."
He prepared to abandon all defense for one final, crushing assault. But as he stepped forward, he froze.
'What is that…?'
Kwooooooooom!
A red light was screaming toward them from the distance, cutting through the landscape like a fallen star.
Grondal blinked. By the time his eyes opened, the light was upon him.
Boom!
The earth groaned as the red trail plummeted from the sky like a bolt of lightning.
Kwooooooooom!
Grondal barely managed to hoist his halberd to block. The force of the impact drove his legs deep into the soil. Through the sparks of clashing steel, he saw the face of the attacker.
Ghislain was there, a predatory smile on his lips.
"So I get the traitor instead of a dragon. Good. I needed to kill you anyway."
"You…"
"You wanted to see my true strength, didn't you?"
"No… it can't be…"
"Then look closely. This is who I am."
The time for talk was over.
Rumble!
The red aura around Ghislain's blade roared like a gale.
Slash!
The sword flashed toward Grondal's throat with the speed of a thunderbolt.