As chaos unfurled around me, I could breathe in the seismic shifts in the magical energies as the dungeon core’s unleashed mana permeated everything. The air, charged and heavy, tingled throughout my essence with each breath I drew, filled with raw, untamed mana. The ground vibrated beneath my feet, resonating with Nyxoria’s agony as power surged through the moon. This chaos was not merely a backdrop, but a catalyst that honed my senses to a fine edge. It was utter ecstasy, fuelling my dark intentions toward the pathetic dragonling champion before me.
I brushed a few errant strands of hair from my face, offering Orlaith a fanged grin as she regained her footing. Removing the champion from her god’s grasp proved quite simple while everyone was distracted by the maelstrom of magic roaring uncontested around us. The mana explosion had indeed provided a spectacle, yet it stirred a slight pang of fear within me—not for my own well-being, for I felt amazing, but because my beloved had been holding the core when it erupted.
That being said, my fear was unfounded, as if my love was anything, it was resilient. In fact, I could feel her magic sweeping over the valley, declaring to all that this was her dominion. A sense of elation coursed through me, and I bit my lower lip in delight from being within her aura.
Orlaith coughed with a grimace, seemingly oblivious to the magnificence of my love, whose dominion far surpassed that of her god, who had come to rescue her in her dismal state. I had the urge to sever her head and drain her of her blood right then, but that simply would not do. No, anyone who dares oppose my beloved must first be humiliated and experience true terror before begging for death, and it is I, Aurelia, who shall ensure this on behalf of my beloved Blake. Once justice is meted out, I shall present my love, my goddess, with the champion’s remains to feast upon. I was just grateful my love didn’t share my proclivities for blood, seeing as I plan to indulge myself before handing over the corpse.
An orange flash of lightning struck the dragon god, Zarathos, causing him to stagger, which was precisely my cue to engage the champion. Orlaith’s eyes widened as I advanced with blurring vampiric speed. This time, there was no slap or mere punch; I lashed out with my claws, aiming to permanently mar her face. However, the draconic human managed to duck just in the nick of time. Fire surged around her like a protective ward, but I nonchalantly kicked through it as though it were mere air. The fabric of my dress tore as my foot connected solidly with the woman’s upper abdomen, sending her hurtling backward in a graceless tumble.
My opponent—or should I say, victim?—hurled a barrage of insults and curses my way, but I paid her no heed as I sauntered toward her, my hips swaying with each step like a predator stalking its prey. Engaging in banter and exchanging threats with the champion might have been amusing under different circumstances, but I had no interest in such trivialities. No, she had threatened and harmed my beloved, and for that, she would suffer before she met her end.
Explosions and draconic roars thundered throughout the valley as Blake’s battle commenced, yet Orlaith and I were enshrouded within a veil of mist. I paused, watching as my prey flailed at phantoms, screaming while she cast spell after spell with trembling hands. It appeared as though she was hallucinating. Then, realization dawned on me as I surveyed the mist around us. Curiously, the magic within the fog didn’t affect me. Yet, it was clearly inducing a state of fear and hallucinations. This realization only widened my wicked smile.
“Oh, poor Orlaith,” I cooed mockingly. “Whatever shall I do with you?” Casually, I stepped aside, dodging a wild wave of fireballs with effortless grace. It was odd—her attacks seemed to struggle to maintain their corporeal form, the flames flickering out nearly as quickly as they had formed. “Aw, this is just too easy. To think that whatever is happening with my beloved’s mist spell could overwhelm you so.”
Panting, Orlaith glared up with a snarl, “I’m far from done, you vile monster!”
Her words were powerful and determined, but her eyes told another story as they darted frantically, trying to make sense of the enveloping mist that distorted reality. Her breathing became labored, each inhale a desperate attempt to steady her shaking form. I watched with cold detachment as she struggled with both her magic and sanity. The air was saturated with her fear, a delicious aroma I savored with a lick of my lips, blending seamlessly with the metallic scent of my prey. And yet, it didn’t quite add up that she was struggling with her magic—unless the density of mana from the dungeon core was interfering. However, that seemed unlikely since I wasn’t experiencing such difficulties. In fact, I had never felt more powerful.
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Like a mad animal, Orlaith screamed and started lashing out at the air. As she swiped at invisible foes, I could hear the tempo of her heartbeat thumping wildly. I continued my slow prowl towards her, reveling in the psychological torment that the mist inflicted. My strides were slow, deliberate—each one a calculated act of terror to compound her dread.
“What monsters do you see in the mist, Orlaith?” I whispered into the ether, my voice low and menacing, a verbal caress that mocked her plight.
The mist responded, swirling more aggressively around her, as if eager to fulfill my command to terrify. I could have kissed my beloved right then for crafting this spell—oh, the fun we’ll have with it.
As she flung a desperate spell into the swirling fog, it dissipated harmlessly, absorbed by the magic-saturated air. Her frustration morphed into despair, and I discovered a perverse form of artistry in that despair. Each of her failed attempts to defend herself painted her more vividly as the victim in the dark tableau my beloved was orchestrating. I had always known my love was destined to ascend, but it wasn’t until now that I truly grasped the extent of her domain. Her divinity was rooted in terror, horrors, and fear. While Blake had somehow become the daughter of the Goddess of Dreams, it was only fitting that my love herself had become a Nightmare.
“Is this all the fight you can muster?” I taunted, my voice a blend of disdain and challenge.
Seizing a lull in her frantic casting, I advanced quickly, closing the distance between us with supernatural speed. Orlaith barely had time to react as I appeared right before her, the mist parting briefly to reveal my menacing form. Her next spell faltered, a shallow sob caught on her lips as the reality of her precarious situation became undeniably clear. It was a moment of pure, thrilling dominance—a sensation all vampires relish.
“Remember, it was you who came here seeking this. Do you still think you can defy me, or rather, my goddess?” I hissed, my face inches from hers, our eyes locked in a battle of wills.
“I’ll be seeing you in the hells,” she spat. Her response was a mix of defiance and resignation, a fascinating cocktail of emotions that only spurred me further. I drew back, preparing to deliver another blow—this time not merely to physically overpower, but to utterly break her spirit. However, my blow never landed; Zarathos came crashing down upon us, forcing me to dash out of the way or risk being crushed.
Orange lightning crackled through the air, illuminating the colossal dragon as it rose again, its massive form narrowly missing Orlaith. My eyes widened in astonishment, captivated by the scene. Scorch marks blossomed across the dragon’s flesh like festering wounds, each one swollen and blistered, oozing an unsettling reminder of unseen afflictions.
Zarathos’s gaze locked onto mine for a mere heartbeat, his eyes blazing with a tempest of rage. In that brief exchange, a storm seemed to brew behind those fiery depths, promising destruction. But just as quickly as our eyes met, his focus shifted, drawn to something more pressing.
With a fluidity that belied his enormous size, Zarathos scooped up his fallen champion. His head then snapped upwards, nostrils flaring as he sensed an unseen threat above. Opening his vast maw, he exhaled deeply, sending a roaring wave of fire slicing through the shroud of mist that enveloped us, illuminating the shadows with fierce, blazing light.
Amidst the cacophony of dragon fire, a different sound emerged—a haunting laughter echoing through the chaos, chilling and clear. This voice made my cruel heart flutter. “Dang it, I really should have devoured those two new skills. But we couldn’t. But why? I don’t know, rules? Ugh, that’s such bullshit. Whatever, let’s just try using the system variations instead. Sure!” It was quickly followed by the soft whisper of two spells, spoken in unison by two distinct individuals, yet somehow, they seemed to emanate from the same person. The spells were strange and unfamiliar to my ears: “[Unholy]” and “[Phantasmal].”
I took that moment to retreat, sensing that my love had this under control. I stopped beside my new fledgling, startling her slightly; neither she nor the spirits guarding her had noticed my approach. I didn’t comment as I gazed skyward, toward my little black star now fluttering above the dragon. I didn’t know what she was doing, but I could feel a shift in the realm as if bearing witness to divine judgment.