I didn't know Fulgur for too long. The few abilities I've seen him use were his power to create and shape fire and to extend and utilize his extremely sharp claws. If he was one of my characters, I'd say that he was weak. Most of the main villains in my stories were someone like Chester. They usually had impressive magical powers with tons of creative uses. And while I can't deny that the dragon certainly knew how to use the limited range of his abilities, he never seemed like someone who I'd label "an overpowered villain". But as I later found out, magical powers do not always equal strength.
Darkness surrounded Fulgur. Their sharp teeth and claws were digging deep into his body and their everlasting hunger lured them towards their prey. But he would not be hunted so easily. Despite his injuries, he kept on fighting. The moment he felt something touch him, he swung his claws against it. No matter how many wounds he received, his spirit never faltered. He grinned as he and the creatures of Darkness tore each other apart.
His brother, Viridi, didn't have such ferocity. Quite the opposite. He despised violence. There wasn't much he could do. The darkness outside would kill him. And so he merely kept on hiding in a small bubble created by his shield spell and tried to burn a path through the neverending mass of vines, in order to reach his brother. This, however, wasn't going anywhere. If he managed to destroy one dark tendril, three others would take its place. The worst part, however, was the pressure these plants were putting on his barrier. It was able to withstand many things, but constant stress from all sides would break it eventually. He had to go on the offensive. At least as best as he could.
The dragon closed his eyes and thought for a moment. His enemies were currently only something like fire-resistant plants. In his head, he started weaving ideas on how something like that could be dealt with. And sure enough, he did figure something out. His old barrier would still be useful, but it needed some work. First, he conjured up several sharp blades on the outside of the bubble. Naturally, however, these didn't achieve anything. The vines couldn't feel pain, so they didn't care if something was stabbing them. Next up, Viridi carefully split his barrier into several vertical stripes. He had to watch out not to create even the smallest space between them or the plants would rush in and kill him. Even this, however, didn't improve his situation. But the real plan was yet to come into play with the third and final modification - spinning. It required a lot more focus and work, but the dragon managed to control the barrier so that each of the individual parts would spin, some clockwise, and some counter-clockwise. This was incredibly effective. The blades on the outside were grinding the incoming vines to small bits, like a blender making a vegetable smoothie. Finally, Viridi managed to fend off the danger, at least for a while.
In that sweet and satisfactory moment of his victory of the brain over brawn, he felt a cold hand grab his back leg. He flinched away and quickly turned around, but he couldn't change anything. He saw his own scales slowly crumbling into tiny fragments of dust. It was a single touch of a grim reaper, all dressed in white, which was now standing in front of him. He felt like such a fool. All that thinking and it didn't occur to him that he should check underground. To his surprise, however, there was no pain one would expect with such a morbid ability.
"You are not a fighter, are you?" The reaper asked gently.
The dragon sighed. "No, I am not. I protect my summoner. I heal people. In fact, I am cursed. I couldn't hurt anyone even if I wanted to.," he responded.
White knew it from the very start. She had seen many souls pass through her hands. Those with cruelty in their hearts could never hide their true feelings. It shone in their eyes like warning lights. But Viridi wasn't like that. There was a gloomy aura of sadness running through him.
"I am sorry it came to this. I didn't want to fight you," White apologized.
"Neither did I. But I can't just disobey my summoner. Those are the rules."
"It's a shame. I think you could've had a great life. Unfortunately, I can't give you that. But at the very least, I can guarantee you a painless departure."
"Thank you, reaper." The dragon looked at his leg. It was practically gone now. His whole body felt weaker as it slowly turned to dust. "Before I go, I have something you need to give to your friend." He straightened his back and with the last remains of his strength, spat out a solid ball of bright green flames. "He will need these. They can..."
Viridi's peaceful departure was suddenly interrupted. In one big slash powered up by his fire, Fulgur finally managed to cut through the obstacles in his path, including his brother's augmented barrier. He felt the life force of his sibling growing weaker, and the idea of losing his only kin drove him into an even bigger state of rage, granting him power.
White was in shock. That dragon had been exposed to Darkness for a solid minute. Maybe even more. There was no way he could've survived. Something must've been wrong. Yet, at a closer look, the Death understood what truly made Fulgur so terrifying. His body was bleeding from numerous large wounds. He looked like he had been mauled by a herd of vicious animals, yet he was still alive, floating above the ground as if nothing happened.
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"THAT WAS MY BROTHER YOU WHORE!!!" He screamed as he swiped his hand at White. This was something neither she nor Chester anticipated. They both thought the fight was over, and it cost them greatly. Vincent's magic reacted too late. He couldn't pull White away in time. One of Fulgur's claws managed to cut right across her chest. If she didn't move out of the way, it would tear her in half.
But the dragon was not willing to give up. All he wanted at that moment was for his target to die. And so after one nearly perfect strike, he made sure he wouldn't miss again. But just as his hand was about to take White's life, bright yellow chains wrapped around his body and held him in place.
"What?! VIRIDI!!!" it didn't take him long to recognize that magic.
"Now! Touch him!" The dying sibling shouted. "Set us free..." he added, whispering this time.
"NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! TRAITOR!!!" The dragon shouted and squirmed and his brother's remaining magic restrained him.
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. But we both deserve a better summoner than Ifrit. Maybe we'll get it in our next lives." Viridi smiled, as his body was practically disappearing into nothing but mist.
White didn't want to hesitate. She knew how important her role was in this whole fight. Blocking out all the pain she could, she stood back up and gently slid her fingers across Fulgur's lower body.
"I will grant you a painless death, just as I did for your brother. Now, you are free," she whispered to him and fell to the ground. Her wounds were not deep, but she was still bleeding a lot, and that made her significantly weaker. If it wasn't for her natural endurance as a Death, she would already be gone.
"You were always such a sentimental idiot, Viridi. I wanted a glorious death in battle. But this? Betrayed by my own brother?! I will not forgive that!"
"Hehe, you will, Fulgur. You don't have time to make a record of this. After we're reborn, we'll both forget. This won't even feel like a dream."
Fulgur didn't know what to say. He was angry. Having a summoner decide his fate would be one thing, but his own brother? Such a betrayal was nothing he could simply ignore. He felt that along with his brother, the bindings that held him were disappearing as well. And so he waited and waited. His head hung down as he stared at the ground. He looked broken, as if he had already given up, and was now only waiting for his body to disappear. And then finally, a few seconds later, Viridi's chains vanished.
The moment the dragon was free again, it was as if life returned to his very soul. Despite his strength disappearing and blood leaving his body at an alarming rate, he wasn't giving up. With all the power he could muster, he dove after White, hoping to finally tear her to pieces. This time, however, Chester was ready. He would not be caught off guard twice. As the dragon's claws were approaching the reaper, black vines grabbed her and dragged her under the ground, away from Fulgur.
White didn't know what happened at first. She was being pulled through a long and dark tunnel. If it wasn't for the faint glow emanating from her body, the Darkness would surely come to deal the final blow. Eventually, the tendrils carried her all the way to Chester, slowly putting her down on a soft flower-like object.
"Chester... what are you..."
"Shhh! Quiet. Don't worry, I can heal that wound without a problem." He approached her and held his hands above the large cut, going from her right shoulder all the way to the left side of her waist. A few tiny drops of black liquid appeared at his fingertips, each eventually falling down onto the wound, where they turned into a moss-like substance, stopping the bleeding.
"Whoa... You can heal too?" White expressed her amazement. Her voice was weak, completely lacking all signs of her usual enthusiasm.
"Shush! I need to focus!" he silenced her and kept on pouring all his strength into the magic. It was starting to feel like too much. Keeping the dome's anti-fire defence strategy going, attacking Fulgur, and healing White, were all extremely taxing spells. It was impossible to maintain them all at once. And so he only concentrated on the healing for now. He thought the dragon wouldn't figure out that the dome would suddenly be susceptible to fire once again. All he had to do now was to hope that his enemy wouldn't find out where they are until Chester is finished with the healing.
Meanwhile, Fulgur waited. He noticed the sudden lack of attacks but didn't consider it important. In his mind, there was a different solution. First, he looked to the ground. Since White left in a hurry and not on her own, she had to abandon the green ball of flames Viridi entrusted her with. The glow emanating from it was enough to keep the Darkness away.
"Awww... Viridi... You left that here for me, didn't you? To make sure the Darkness would leave me alone. You never really believed that I'd just give up, did you? Ah, brother, you know me far too well." Fulgur gently picked up the flaming ball. A few tears appeared in the corners of his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away. For a moment, he wondered how many times did they have to say goodbye like this already. At least once for each of their rebirths. But none of that was important right now. His body was almost gone. He had to act quickly.
Flugur threw the ball of magic aside and put his hands together. This was a new spell, which he created on a whim, so there was no guarantee it would work as he intended. It was inspired by White's own power. If she could kill with just one touch, then perhaps so could he? After all, even his magic gave him the power to turn things into ash. The only difference was in the execution.
It took quite a lot of concentration, but eventually, he could feel the few sparks of condensed fire magic dancing in their practically invisible form in the threads of White's dress. He placed them there when his claws first touched her body. It was like poison, sitting inside a wound, only waiting to be activated. Several tiny glitters of highly condensed fire magic. All that remained now was to dispel them and send the pent-up energy flying wild. As soon as he located his target and the remnants of magic she had been marked with, his mouth twisted into a wide grin. "Gotcha!"
There was no goodbye. No words left to be said. No time to express their feelings. The magic that was placed on White's body suddenly exploded. A bright ball of flames threw Chester aside and turned dark blue as it consumed the soul of a reaper. This was more than enough to finally break the plant wizard's spells. Such a sudden and painful blow was not something he could merely brush off. The dome, along with all the vines that were inside it, crumbled away. The dragon was smiling, lying on the ground, slowly turning to dust.
"Let's consider it a draw then."