Damien awoke with a pounding headache, and no idea why. The last he remembered, he'd been rushing through the frozen streets of Sanctuary, towards the lair of the dragon. Some important news about an attacking army he needed to deliver?

What happened after that? He didn't remember ever making it to the lair... No, of course he didn't; the dragon had come out to meet him. He remembered its words clearly. "Are you prepared to defend yourself, whatever the cost?"

And his answer, too. "No, but I am prepared to defend my friends and family."

The dragon had laughed, apparently finding the answer amusing. Then it had carried him on its back and flown him out to sea, towards the approaching army. And when they got there...

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A [Cardinal of Kakkerxat] stood at the bow of their fleet's flagship, a squad of battle-priests behind him. Beside him stood a [Grand Marshal]. Both peered into the distance, where red specks were visible above the frozen landmass that was their target.

"They're watching us," he commented.

"As we are watching them. I'm uncertain why they haven't attacked, though. Our cannons exceed their range, but our manoeuvrability is not at all comparable to theirs. They should be trying to sink our ships before we reach land."

The cardinal nodded. Ships made for big, slow targets, and sinking one would kill everyone on board if they weren't close to land. Almost everyone, he corrected himself. He knew some sailors took underwater breathing feats, and some of the stronger fighters were likely capable of simply swimming back home. Or flying, in at least one case; the tier nine [Angel of Flaming Judgement], Valerie Spiratine, was with them. She was the only public tier nine figure currently active in the bowl, and their entire strategy for surviving landfall depended on her, but thus far, she hadn't been needed.

"Wait, is that one getting bigger?"

The cardinal raised an eyeglass and squinted. "Yes, I do believe it is. Why only one? Are they really that arrogant?"

"Maybe it's the opposite. If they realise they're outmatched, perhaps it comes to parley?"

Spreading orders not to fire unless the dragon approached within breath range, or made aggressive movements, the pair of the crusade's commanders waited. The dragon arrived, hovering well above the ships. "Why have you humans come to where you do not belong?"

"To retrieve that which was stolen from its rightful place, and to claim the head of the godless thief who took it," answered the cardinal, using his [Public Speaking] skill to project his voice.

"Ah, the source-light," laughed the dragon. "So that is their excuse. I'm afraid you have been misdirected; the light you seek is not here. As for the one who took it, it certainly wouldn't be difficult to bring their head to you, although you'll need to take responsibility for separating it from its body. Perhaps you could extract from that head what really happened to that noxious light while you were at it."

The cardinal frowned, wondering why the dragon was offering aid. He had only one guess, and he didn't like it.

"You look dissatisfied," continued the dragon. "Could there be another reason you are here, that would not be satisfied were you to complete your public mission before landfall? Certain humans you've come in search of, for example? Led by a certain Damien, perhaps?"

The frown deepened as the cardinal realised his guess was correct, and the dragons were protecting his targets deliberately. "Those three are a threat to the world. You have no idea what you're risking by letting them live."

"A threat? I think not. They are a hope. A chance for the world to become whole again. But no matter. Let us deal with your first mission, so that you may focus on your second. The thief you are looking for is me."

The dragon spread its wings and roared, a visible shockwave tearing through the air in front of it. It bounced harmlessly off the ships, their defensive wards able to cope at least with that much, but Damien shivered on the dragon's back regardless. Brenhin-Tân. The dragon that had snatched him from Thale was the greatest and most famous dragon in the bowl.

At the admission that it was the thief the island was named after, Valerie Spiratine leapt from her vessel, wings of flame bursting into existence behind her. Moments later, the cannon fire started.

The dragon laughed once more, focusing on evasion, not even trying to strafe the boats with flame. Its most potent weapon was clinging to its back, after all. "Well?" asked the dragon. "You heard their answer; they've come for your friends. What will you do?"

"What I need to."

Damien released his hold on the dragon's scales and stood upright, suddenly seeming utterly unaffected by the twists and dives of the dragon as the natural laws of the world loosened their grip over him.

"À̸ͅr̴̯̗̝͆͗͠a̷̱̼͊̔͘c̵͈̳͆̃͝h̸̨̩̪̿̾-̴̢̜͗á̴̩̲̻c̵̻͍̰̄̉h̴̨̫̑a̸͔̝͂̽̋ͅn̷̗̗̂̈̎ò̴͉͔̈͂l̶͕̾.̷͕͔̠̀̏"

"That's Damien!" exclaimed the cardinal. "The dragon brought him here!"

"Who the heck is Damien?" shouted back the general. "I haven't heard anything about you looking for three humans. Are you telling me this entire crusade..."

"T̴h̸e̷y̷'̷v̷e̶ ̷c̶o̷m̶e̶ ̷f̶o̵r̸ ̷v̶e̶n̷g̷e̷a̸n̵c̷e̸,̷ ̶a̵s̷ ̵y̴̙̎ȯ̵͖ͅũ̷̯̭ ̴s̶a̶i̶d̸ ̸t̸h̴e̵y̶ ̸w̴o̶u̷l̸d̷.̸"

The general winced as Damien's voice drove a hundred toothpicks into his brain. "What is..."

The cardinal ignored him, turning to his battalion of priests. "Plan D!"

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The priests immediately started chanting.

"T̶h̷e̸y̷'̶v̸e̷ ̵s̵e̵n̵t̸ ̶o̸u̴t̷ ̴t̸h̸e̴i̸r̵ ̷p̸u̶p̸p̴e̸t̴s̴,̵ ̸a̸s̴ ̷y̷̟̜̌ŏ̸̬͔ṳ̴̢̌͊ ̵s̴a̵i̶d̶ ̶t̶h̴e̶y̸ ̵w̷o̵u̸l̸d̵.̸"

The general watched the young adult standing unconcernedly on the back of the dragon, eyes glazed over and staring at nothing. Given that the dragon was currently upside-down—in the middle of a barrel roll to evade a blade of flame from Valerie—it was an impressive trick.

Another volley of cannonballs flew through the air, once again evaded. The gunners hadn't needed orders from anyone to recognise that Damien must not be permitted to finish his speech, and were firing desperately, but with the dragon's distance and concentration on evasion, they couldn't get a shot.

"T̸h̸e̶y̷'̶v̷e̶ ̸r̶e̸s̸p̶o̶n̶d̶e̶d̴ ̶t̵o̶ ̴w̵o̸r̵d̶s̵ ̶w̸i̸t̶h̶ ̵v̷i̶o̵l̸e̵n̴c̵e̶,̴ ̴a̷s̶ ̴y̵̰͊͋o̷̙͓͘ü̴̫̻͊ ̵s̷a̷i̷d̴ ̵t̸h̸e̸y̵ ̴w̷o̴u̶l̵d̴.̶"

The surface of the sea stilled as waves flattened out and the wind died away. Even the sounds of the cannon fire grew muted.

Valerie dived at the dragon, plummeting from high in the air at supersonic speeds, sword held outstretched. Against any other dragon, she may have pierced straight through, ending its life with the one attack, but this wasn't any dragon. It was Brenhin-Tân, for whom 'ancient' was more than just a title. The eldest of dragons, who remembered a time not merely before the war of the rifts, but before the Five themselves. A thief that stole from the gods. It moved backwards with a casual flap of its wings, letting the human missile harmlessly pass, then, for the first time, went on the offensive, diving at the flagship.

"A̷n̵d̸ ̶s̷o̶ ̵I̵ ̵c̵a̶l̷l̶ ̸t̶o̸ ̴ỹ̴̼õ̸̤͠ư̴̝,̴ ̷a̶s̸ ̵y̴̡͒̑ó̷͎̘̽ụ̸̣̎ ̶s̶a̸i̸d̵ ̵I̸ ̸w̸o̶u̸l̴d̸.̶"

Beneath the still, clear water, a blood red eye lazily opened. Perhaps it was just under the surface and hundreds of metres in diameter, or perhaps it was in the deeps and impossibly vast. Maybe it was both.

The eye's slitted pupil narrowed and turned to focus on Damien. The cannon fire stopped as the gunners turned away from the sea, scrunching their eyes closed and slamming their hands over their bleeding ears. Lower tier sailors cast themselves from rigging and crows nests to get out of sight of the eye, dying as they plummeted to the decks below.

With the cannons silenced, nothing stopped the dragon as it approached the lead ship, launching a lance of flame at the chanting priests and incinerating them all. Something shattered, a shock-wave expanding from the flagship in a perfect sphere.

"D̷y̶e̷ ̵t̵h̷e̵ ̵s̴e̴a̶s̵ ̴r̸e̸d̶ ̶w̴i̷t̴h̶ ̷t̵h̶e̷i̵r̶ ̴b̶l̵o̶o̵d̷,̶ ̷a̷s̷ ̶y̶̛̻̕ǫ̴͐̇ù̷̞̓ ̴s̸a̷i̶d̸ ̸y̷̗̗̚o̵͇̍ũ̴̫̮̣̚ ̴w̸o̶u̴l̶d̶.̶"

Valerie launched another attack at the dragon, who returned to simple evasion now that the priests' prayer had been stopped. In the span of a few seconds, she launched hundreds of blades of flame, the result of her desperation, as she tried to kill Damien. Not a single wisp of flame touched him as the dragon danced between the blades.

"A̸̬͊̽r̶̫̻̻̒̋á̶̮͐̈́c̷̦̟̈́͜͠h̸͆ͅ-̷͈̪͂a̴̫̽͝c̶̙̟͑̊ͅh̵̺͉̭̔̒a̶͕͛̎͛n̴͈̬̦̄ȏ̷̧̨͊l̶̨̛͚̙͂͘.̷̢̼̄̀̚ͅ"

The source-lights flickered and the sky darkened. Space tore, ten thousand tentacles reaching out, wrapping around ships and squeezing. With a horrific crunching, the fleet was no more.

More tentacles whipped through the air, striking priests, sailors, warriors and mages alike as they were catapulted from the exploding ships. Each strike turned the recipient into an expanding cloud of blood and meat, coating the smooth surface of the sea.

A hundred tentacles grasped at Valeri, but she was too fast. Dodging, weaving between them, slicing them with her blades of flame when she became entrapped. One caught her leg, but she sliced off her own limb without a moment's hesitation. She knew the fight was over, and that her side had lost. She turned and fled.

"C̸̹̯͈͠ó̵̢̺m̶̛̪̺̭͆͂e̵̹̺͆́"

The source-lights went out. Valeri, the only living member of the crusade, didn't look back as she fled the scene, and thus missed the tentacles grasping space itself and tearing it apart. The sky ruptured, revealing a view into another world. Through the rifts were blue skies, a disk of yellow flame set up above. A hundred eyes looked down through the holes, each flickering about independently, searching for any survivors that may have been missed. One stared at the retreating back of Valeri, watching as her severed leg regenerated in a burst of flame.

Still in his trance, Damien looked up at the disk of flame and smiled. Then he collapsed.

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... And then what had happened? He remembered the dragon carrying him out to sea, but after that, things got blurry. They'd met the invading army and... defeated them?

A memory surfaced of the sea dyed red, the shattered remains of ships floating on it, men desperately grasping at the flotsam as something picked them off and tore them apart with no more effort than tearing wet tissue.

"Urk... I called to that again, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," came the unexpected reply. "It has been a long time indeed since I last had the chance to witness such an entertaining spectacle."

Damien tried to pay attention to his surroundings, revealing he was once more back in the dragon's lair, this time alone.

"Was that why you took us? Because I could defend us?"

"Indeed. If I tried to raise those with your class on my own, the Five would come to stop us, as they did to you. You never had any hope of reaching the required level before their armies arrived. You simply had the means to deal with it when they did. The perfect trap. Bait and weapon, rolled into one."

"And now that we've beaten back that army, we'll be able to finish uncontested?"

The dragon laughed. "If you wish. It's unimportant."

"Unimportant? After how hard you were pushing us?"

"I simply found it amusing to watch the lengths you were prepared to endure. Frankly, I didn't care if you gained one level or one hundred," shrugged the dragon, causing Damien to need to struggle quite hard not to explode. "But now you're awake, I have more important things to concern myself with than you. Return to Sanctuary. Continue to train if you wish, or find something useful to do around the town if you don't."

"Please, can you at least tell me what's going on?" Damien asked politely, still doing his best not to scream.

The dragon sighed, blowing steam through its nostrils. "Fine. For one touched by God as you have been, I can spare a few seconds. You have heard it said that in the war of the rifts, the Other stole the sun, and that the betrayer Grungle built the source-lights as replacements."

"Yes?"

"It is a lie. The sun was never stolen; the world was. Or rather, half of it. The Five took half of the world and locked it away inside of itself, and the war of the rifts was fought to stop them. Grungle did indeed build the source-lights to replace the sun, but that is not their only purpose. They are the gateways through which the Five exert their power and influence. The world is always straining to return to its proper place, but the source-lights serve as anchors with which to pin it. I have destroyed one, but must destroy two more to return this world to its rightful home. Thus far, I have been unable to reach them, the defence too heavy since I destroyed the first. Now you have slaughtered half of this world's fighting strength. It is the perfect time to strike. I suppose I should thank you for being so willing to defend others, no matter the consequences."

"Half of..." started Damien before another memory surfaced of the fleet of ships, and just how many of them there were. Of course—the humans were declaring war on the dragons. It would need to be a team of heavy hitters assembled from all the kingdoms to stand any hope of reaching the Thief's Wastes, let alone winning any fight against the dragons who dwelt there.

He shivered as he realised just how much blood was on his hands. While calling the demon, it hadn't felt like him. It was as if he'd handed his body over to something else. But that wasn't true. He had been there, and he'd made the decision. He'd killed thousands, if not more.

"I can't do that again..." he muttered, but the dragon had already left.