I stood in my human form, taking a few long moments to allow my bones to knit together within my flesh as I glared up at the dragon, which diligently clutched a black orb between its massive talons. It looked as though it had caught a gnat, considering the scale difference. Heck, I felt like a baby mouse standing before a Maine Coon—you know, those big, freaking domestic cat breeds. I mean, I’m a dog person—Great Dane fan, to be precise—but if I had chosen a cat in my last life, it definitely would have been one of those.

Dream!

What?

You’re fucking up the narrative—again! Focus, you freaking airhead.

Oh, right. My bad—hey! Who are you calling an airhead?

If the straightjacket fits…

Eat my ass!

Well, this body is flexible enough.

Ew—hmm… That counts as masturbation, not incest, right?

…

I shook my head, trying to corral my scattered thoughts as I shifted my gaze from my stolen dungeon core back to Sophia’s head. I desperately wanted the spirit-summoning skill she was using. What? You and I both need to accept that I’m evil. Flicking my eyes to the dragon, who seemed to ignore us for the moment, I approached Sophia. As I moved closer, my thoughts began to swirl once more, as if time was standing still while a million thoughts exploded all at once.

Let’s kill her.

What? No, Nightmare, she’s now Aurelia’s fledgling vampire!

So? Aurelia won’t mind. Sophia’s got that badass skill. Come on, Dream, I’m constantly putting up with your insanity. Let me do it.

Damnit, Nightmare, why are you making me the responsible one here? That’s so unfair!

Then let me do it!

No!

It’d be super easy. She’s not even looking.

No!

Ugh! This is bullshit! Just let me do it.

No!

You know, we’re not the hero here, right? Sure, we’ve been helping people and stuff, but that’s more like the enemy of my enemy shit, not because we actually care.

Ugh… I thought I was the persistent half. You can kill the next person you want, but not Sophia. At least not right now.

Fine. But this is still bullshit!

Yep, I know.

I stepped up beside Sophia, carefully avoiding a glance in her direction as I felt, let’s say, a slight urge to decapitate her—it was nothing personal; I just personally wanted the skill she had. Instead, I squinted my eyes at the dungeon core, deciding it would be much more productive to focus on retrieving my precious. However, I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to go about it. That said, when did I ever need things like a plan or strategy?

~

Zarathos arrived just in time to save his champion. He knew he’d never hear the end of it for intervening from the Ascended Council, especially from Demoros, the pompous prick. The thought of the impending lecture made the dragon god roll his eyes and click his tongue. With a huff, he began channeling healing magic into Orlaith, mending her wounds as he scanned the area for the elusive vampire. Much to his annoyance, she was nowhere to be found.

Orlaith’s dark, flawless skin glistened as Zarathos’s magic flowed through her, her eyes pulsing with his divine fire essence. Relief washed over Zarathos; if a dragon was anything, it was protective over everything they considered theirs. Ascending to divinity had been quite the ordeal for him—not the gaining of power, followers, and influence, but the pain of leaving his dragon’s horde behind. Thus, losing a possession like a champion wasn’t something the dragon god could allow.

That said, Zarathos cracked a slight smile as he took possession of a new trinket of great power, a dungeon core. Safely nestled between his talons, the dragon god couldn’t help but preen at himself for capturing such a coveted artifact. Dungeon cores are potent sources of magic that manifest on worlds as they converge into the Realm of Magic, fated to be one of Völuspá’s countless moons. Some believe they are there to train the citizens arriving in the realm in magic, while others think they are a residual feature from the system applied to any new world added to the realm. In truth, no one truly knows, or so Zarathos is aware.

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Either way, dungeon cores are invaluable sources of magic and, of course, the reason all new moons are raided for their cores, along with the mana crystals that form on a converging world. To find one on Nyxoria, after it has been in the realm for as long as it has, is unheard of—another reason for the dragon god to preen.

Zarathos lifted his talon holding the artifact, pausing as he realized it was missing. Creasing his brows, the dragon god glanced around, noticing a flash as something moved at a blurring speed in a straight line. Suddenly, a dark female creature wearing what appeared to be a white mask, almost human-like, came to a screeching halt. Stunned by the audacity of someone stealing from him, Zarathos couldn’t quite process what happened next. The creature started singing loudly while waving the dungeon core high over her head, “I’ve got a dungeon core. I’ve got a dungeon core. I’ve got a dungeon core. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.” She swayed her hips in rhythm as though dancing, repeating her little song.

However, that wasn’t all that happened. As she moved to her own horribly off-tune song, a hole began to open within her chest, and the dragon god instantly recognized the cavity as a pocket dimension. Rage built within him as his mind finally caught up to the creature’s actions. Before she could place the core within her pocket dimension, Zarathos lashed out with a bolt of flame. Unfortunately for them all, he hadn’t moderated his power, a decision he instantly regretted as his spell not only reached its target—it struck, exploding the artifact.

The last thing Zarathos saw before he folded his wings in front of himself to protect himself and his champion was the wide eyes of the dark creature holding the core. The mana explosion from the detonating dungeon core made the blast at the Grotto of the Betrayed look like a toddler having a tantrum. Magic rippled out from the core in a maelstrom, toppling everything in its path, mountains included, as it mushroomed into the sky. To the gods observing from afar, it looked as though a hurricane of pure mana was forming over half the surface of Nyxoria, sparing nothing in its wake.

Zarathos gritted his teeth as he dug his claws deep into the ground beneath him, fearful of being thrown into the maelstrom that screamed around him. Orlaith, clutched within his grasp, screamed as she desperately held onto a single talon with both arms, as if it were the only secure structure in a tsunami of destruction. It was a world consumed by darkness, with pinks and blues swirling around everything, while lightning cracked and wind howled.

In desperation, the dragon god attempted to teleport away, but the mana saturating everything interfered with his magic, preventing him from escaping. He tucked his head beneath his wings, cradling his champion as they braced against the chaos. He tried to peek out from behind his wings, but the mana, still bellowing around him, inflicted blisters, cuts, and sores on his flesh. However, amidst the roaring maelstrom, Zarathos thought he could hear laughter.

Nearly half an hour went by before things started to settle down. At that point, Zarathos lowered his battered wings, looking worse for wear as he surveyed the sheer destruction. Mana still rippled around with flashes of pink and blue lightning among matching clouds of mana that floated and drifted everywhere, obscuring his view.

He squinted as he noticed a mix of black and pink domes. Zarathos thought he detected death essence, but before he could discern what it was, the domes vanished, and his jaw dropped. Not only were the mesa and nearby mountain still there, but so was the city where the two armies had clashed, as well as the castle. Stranger yet, to his perception, he could swear there was now a wave of undead monsters within the city. Glancing around, he noticed a blonde girl, a fledgling vampire, also seeming unharmed. That was all he could make out until the faint sound of laughter returned, drifting out and blending into the mana clouds like a rolling fog.

Peeking down at the champion he had protectively held, Zarathos’s heart dropped when he didn’t see her. In a frantic motion, the dragon god’s massive head turned all around, seeking out Orlaith. It didn’t take him long to spot her rolling across the ground as though she’d been struck with a massive force, which was odd; he hadn’t felt her being knocked from his grasp. However, anger built up within him as he noticed the figure shrouded in black and red standing before his champion, smiling with her fangs glinting.

Zarathos began moving his body toward his champion when he heard a soft whisper in his ear, sounding like she was struggling not to burst into laughter with excitement, “No, you’re playing with me. Pfft!”

Mana from the destroyed dungeon core still saturated everything; it was a disaster that should leave half this moon uninhabitable for centuries. And yet, Zarathos couldn’t quite figure out where the domes had come from or how they had withstood the explosion. Observing how the two vampires seemed to be luxuriating in it, he cocked his head in perplexity. As for the creature with the white face mask, he couldn’t find her, but it was as though her laughter was emanating from all around him. The mist continued to build, mixing with the mana clouds and fog, creating an eerie, enveloping presence.

The pink and blue lightning continued rippling around, but another source of lightning began to flash within the mist—orange lightning, which made the dragon god’s skin crawl as if there was something vile about it. The mist itself crashed into him like an ocean wave, swirling around him as it grew, with the orange flashes accompanying it, heightening the eerie atmosphere.

The voice from earlier called out, its tone dripping with mischievous glee, “Tee-hee! I wanted to keep that core, you dick. He-he-he! But I should actually be thanking you. All this mana in the air—it feels amazing! Ha-ha-ha-ha!” Zarathos looked all around, unable to pinpoint the source of the voice. He glanced back to his champion, but had lost sight of her amongst the mist as well, which infuriated him. The voice continued, now almost hysterically, “Now, how would you like to die, slow and painful or painfully slow? Ha-ha-ha-ha!”

“Don’t mock me, insect,” Zarathos roared. “I’ll feast on your—” His words were abruptly cut short as a flicker of orange lightning collided with the side of his face, staggering the dragon god. Pain flooded through him, shocking him into disbelief.

“Don’t be mad. We’re only getting started,” the whispering voice uttered, though there was a different tone to it, as if it had been spoken by someone entirely new. Yet, Zarathos knew that wasn’t true. Before he could puzzle out what was happening, the disembodied voice added with a dark, sinister murmur, “Welcome to my domain, welcome to my nightmare.”

For the first time in the dragon god’s existence, he felt a pinprick of dread run down his spine.