Amelia soared through the sky’s ashen haze, her draconic wings barely beating but still keeping her afloat. At her level, her wings functioned more for show than requirement. She no longer needed to beat them constantly—merely spreading them was enough to fly. She was in her hybrid form, scales covering her humanoid body, and the heat of the demonic flames licked at those golden scales, the rising air currents thick with ash, and screams from below.
She had no time to dwell on the battered figures darting through the colosseum’s courtyard. Earlier, she had battled Ashvarak on the colosseum floor, endangering countless students in the process. Seeing the risk, she lured him to the sky, hoping to spare those below from further destruction.
She traded blows with him once more, eyes keen as she answered each of his Skills. Her jaw tightened, focus pinned on Ashvarak’s twisted form—borrowing the face of Eryndor—even as her heart churned with dread.
Far beneath, the colosseum grounds rumbled. Pockets of illusions flared and vanished as students fought for survival among charred pillars and scorched rubble. The roars of clashing energies reverberated through the night. Amelia glimpsed Vaelion through her peripheral, bow in hand, perched on a broken archway. The elf’s silver hair caught the burning glow from below as she rained arrows on stray lesser demons.
“Amelia,” Vaelion’s voice brushed against Amelia’s mind, carried by a whisper of elven telepathy. “We’ve pushed most of the illusions back—you sure you don’t need help?”
Amelia set her jaw, dodging an attack. “I don’t. Stay safe. I’ll handle Ashvarak.”
She’d have killed him already if he wasn’t in the body of Eryndor. She had hesitated a few too many times during a killing move. And that hesitation… it cost her dearly. A swirl of black sparks caught Amelia’s eye. She refocused on Eryndor’s battered body. Ashvarak had forced his limbs into shapes far beyond their mortal limits, flesh melting away in places under the demon’s overwhelming power. Guilt gnawed at Amelia’s heart.
She wished she had unleashed her full might sooner—yes, Eryndor might have died, but perhaps fewer lives would have been lost in the aftermath. Vaelion, too, bore part of the blame. She had wavered over sacrificing Eryndor—an influential figure—leading to a fateful delay in her choice. Now, things have already gone far beyond comfort.
Amelia hadn’t felt such rage in a long time,
From the corner of her vision, she caught a swirling shape of demonic fire surging upward—another stray attack from the embattled ground. She flicked a golden wing to deflect it, wincing at the sizzling heat that draped across her scales. Her voice trembled with repressed fury. “Ashvarak!” she roared, eyes blazing with draconic light. “This stupid game ends here, you demonic bastard.”
Ashvarak, half of Eryndor’s face burned away, bared a twisted grin. “Such a dramatic reaction from a dragon is embarrassing,” he replied, black sparks dancing around what remained of Eryndor’s fingertips. “I guess that’s why you’re a halfling. But your anger means nothing. Do you think I fear you? You’re not even 9th Ascension, I would have destroyed you a long time ago if I had my true body here.”
A bitter lump formed in Amelia’s throat. This imbecile was looking down on her so much, but she couldn’t blame him. She’d failed to stop himself from harming the one person she never wished to see harmed. She recalled Iskandaar getting slammed into oblivion only moments ago, his chest caved in, surely a deadly wound. It had been minutes. He must have… already passed.
She clutched at the air, draconic magic seething in her fists. “What’s your master planning? Why Waybound Academy?” Her heart thumped with dread.
Since she planned to end it soon, she at least wanted to know that.
Ashvarak gave a low, mirthless chuckle, flinging shreds of burnt flesh from Eryndor’s shoulder. “I owe you no explanation, half-breed. But I’ll amuse you,” Crimson energy crackled around him, forming black arcs of lightning. “This is a warning for all. An announcement. That the Demon King is making his move. Waybound simply was a good choice for this attack, for your graduate students are often annoying. Plus, this essentially ruins the political relationship between the humans and elves.”
“Just for that? So many children died…!” Amelia willed herself to remain calm, but it was hard. She trembled, and her rage smoldered beneath every breath. “...Fine,” she said in a low hiss. “Even if I can’t actually kill you, I’ll give you pain beyond imagination.”
“Kekek…”
She braced her wings, golden scales at their edges catching the scattered firelight. She steadied her breathing, ignoring the pang of guilt that this final blow might kill Eryndor. It’d also fulfill the last part of the demon’s plan; the political impact. Although Vaelion would understand, her sister might not. No, even if they both understood, the Queen would have no choice but to seclude the elves again, for her people surely wouldn’t understand nor accept Amelia killing such an important person.
But there was no time for regrets—Ashvarak had to be stopped before he could cause more trouble. Leaning back, she called upon her draconic heritage, gathering the energy for her strongest breath.
“Amelia, behind you!” Vaelion’s mental shout resounded in her head. Amelia jolted, turning just in time to evade a coil of black flame that snaked upward. She spotted Vaelion perched below, arrow notched, scanning the sky for a clear shot. The elf gave Amelia a curt nod. “I’ll support from here if I can, but illusions keep rising.”
Amelia swallowed thickly. Ashvarak was playing with her. She had to end this before more illusions swarmed them. She refocused on him, who now hovered a dozen yards away, drifting slightly crooked. He was wounded, but not enough for her to take him out in a single attack.
Before she could charge her breath, suddenly, Eryndor’s possessed body began to glow from within, lines of red energy crawling beneath the skin, crossing the demon’s twisted flesh. Amelia’s eyes widened—self-destruction. He planned on taking all of Waybound with him in a catastrophic blast! She’d survive, but who else would?!
“No—!” she cried, heart racing. If she released her breath now, it might only fasten the explosion.
Ashvarak let out a triumphant laugh, vile energy sparking around his body. “Time’s up, half-breed,” he sneered. “Enjoy watching everything you failed to protect burn.”
Amelia prepared to unleash her draconic breath, no matter the cost—anything to stop that final detonation. There was a chance that it’d rather strengthen the explosion, but it was better than just sitting still!
Then, a sudden streak of brilliant light sliced through the smoky air, forcing both her and the demon to glance sideways.
A figure flew through the flaming skies of the colosseum, bare-chested, clothes torn, and hair wild. A halo-like glow shimmered at his back. Amelia’s heart lurched when she realized who it was. It was Iskandaar… he wasn’t dead. Yet the power emanating from him felt far beyond anything he had shown before.
No.
No, no, she’d felt it once before.
During the Vampiric Father incident, she felt a similar aura to this.
Relief bloomed in her heart while Ashvarak snorted, a flicker of caution in his gaze. “What trick is this? You were gone.” His tone quivered on the last word. He was still almost exploding, his skin practically boiling, but he waited for Iskandaar.
“Gone?” Iskandaar’s voice resonated with an unfamiliar, regal edge. “Ashvarak, I’ve only come now,” he said calmly. “Say your goodbyes; I shall end you now.”
Amelia struggled to reconcile this commanding presence with the anxious boy who’d reported to her about the demons earlier. The swirling aura around him was… monstrous. Yet, it wasn’t the demonic kind he used against the Vampiric Father. Right now, he was like a radiant sun.
She clenched her jaw. Could this truly be Iskandaar? In the end, she still didn’t know his secret. What he truly was. Then again, none of that mattered. What mattered was that he was alive, blazing like a small sun. She half-expected illusions to swirl around him, but the brilliance of his aura seemed to keep them at bay.
“Argh—!” Ashvarak bellowed in frustration, ignoring her and apparently deciding to eliminate Iskandaar first. He rushed forward, a swirling vortex of black energy enveloping Eryndor’s battered frame. Amelia reflexively lifted a hand to blast him with mana, but Iskandaar’s gaze caught hers. The look in his eyes was firm, almost regal.
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“Amelia,” he said, voice low and certain. His smile was small, his eyes confident. He looked like a God, and Amelia found herself pausing. “Unleash your Gold Dragon’s Breath on me. Trust me, the [Photon Ring] will keep me safe.”
A wave of disbelief coursed through her. Wouldn’t that unstoppable breath kill him just as easily as the demon? What- what was he planning? But the earnestness in his eyes and the halo-like light dancing at his back cut through her hesitation.
She clenched her teeth, muscles coiled with tension. She trusted him. “This might kill you!” she shouted, wrestling with guilt. Iskandaar offered a faint, confident nudge of his head.
Unable to suppress her turmoil any longer, she inhaled deeply, summoning the golden flames that marked her strongest draconic technique. “[Gold Dragon’s Breath]!”
The colosseum floor cracked beneath her pressure, her wings flaring for stability as a column of molten flame rocketed toward Iskandaar and Ashvarak.
The scorching brilliance carved through the swirling shadows, forging a radiant path straight at Iskandaar’s chest. No, it covered his entire body, given how large it was. Amelia’s heart thundered in her ears.
A sudden, blinding glow flared from Iskandaar’s shimmering halo, stopping her breath in its tracks. The raging column of draconic fire collided with an impossibly bright aura, submerging into it, making the halo even brighter. The entire colosseum exploded with light.
****
The colosseum vanished behind a raging sea of gold when Amelia’s draconic breath collided with Iskandaar’s blazing aura.
For a heartbeat, she expected him to be obliterated—anything foolish enough to stand in her flame typically reduced to ash. Instead, the radiant halo at his back devoured every tendril of her fire, shining like a miniature sun on the ruined sky.
Hovering a few yards away, Amelia’s wings beat with cautious strokes, her eyes round with disbelief. He absorbed it all, she realized, heart hammering. How did he do that?
Even across the swirling embers, she could feel the impossible heat. It was not the same as Ashvarak’s heat. It was something purer… something greater. Nearby, a few dazed students who’d managed to hide behind crumbled walls gaped at the display.
I don’t think anybody can see his face, she noted. Everything was too bright.
“W-what is this?!” Ashvarak, controlling Eryndor’s broken form, braced one charred forearm against his face, shielding himself from the glare of the swirling gold. “Enough of this flare,” he barked, Eryndor’s original voice half-drowned by the demon’s snarl. “You think you can stop me with a cheap parlor trick?!”
“You call this a ‘parlor trick,’ you pathetic demon?” In reply, Iskandaar floated in the center of that gilded tempest, his chest clear of any wounds it had earlier, hair whipping in the swirl of fire. The nimbus of light behind him pulsed in the color of Amelia’s molten breath, arcs of golden sparks dancing across his bare arms. “Allow me to obliterate that opinion now. Witness the might you can never hope to surpass.”
Iskandaar blinked. No, not him. His body blinked. He appeared behind Ashvarak, and his fist curled gently. His knuckles slammed into his side. The sky exploded, the clouds split, and the demon flew into the distance. He slammed into the red barrier, making it shimmer.
Amelia couldn’t understand. Iskandaar wasn’t that strong earlier, but he’d absorbed her energy and borrowed power from it. It didn’t seem like a lasting effect, and Ashvarak’s body wasn’t in optimal condition, but regardless, he managed to clash with Ashvarak now. How did that work?
Ashvarak released a bestial snarl from that distance, raising his scorched arms. “This elf’s body may be fragile, but my will is strong. You think that much will end me?!” Shadows coiled around his fingertips, illusions swirling behind him like a chorus of shrieking phantoms.
He was preparing an attack, but Iskandaar didn’t look bothered. Amelia’s dragon’s breath energy burned on his back, and he turned toward her. “Amelia,” his eyes were alight with a regal glint that stole her breath. “Give this body immediate care after I’m done. Your dragon’s breath is indeed a lot to carry.”
He never had that look before… she wondered as he turned back. She swallowed, throat tight. He sounded certain and… otherworldly. Closer to a king on a battlefield than the brash, sharp-tongued student she knew. “Iskandaar, what—how—?” She couldn’t form the rest of the question. He was already moving toward the demon.
Below, Prince Orion and Rhydar lurked near the courtyard’s edge, struggling to calm a handful of trembling bystanders. Orion blinked at the man-in-light’s display of raw energy while Rhydar’s lips parted in silent amazement. Neither dared speak, transfixed by the golden storm overhead.
None of them recognized the boy. They were far too high in the sky for that. Except for one person. “That boy—” Vaelion’s voice rang in her head as she peered over a shattered column, eyes full of tension. “What the hell is he?”
Ashvarak was readying for an attack when Iskandaar closed up. His dark energy simply vaporized. The Stellar Qi charged with Amelia’s Draconic Mana destroyed the gathering.
“You—!” Ashvarak shouted, but Iskandaar stopped before him and slammed him in the face. Ashvarak spat, crashing back into the barrier. “Dammit, dammit, dammit all! There is no point to this,” he snapped, illusions flickering behind him in half-dozen monstrous shapes. His body glowed brighter again. “I’ll destroy this body and take out everything!”
“No,” Iskandaar simply raised both hands, the halo brightening. “You will not,” he said, and a sudden surge of Qi erupted around him. “True Demon Sword Art—Fourth Form: Eternal Swarm of the Void Cicada.”
Amelia recognized the name of that technique, at least the first part, yet the scale was entirely different. Thankfully, it was using his current Qi and not demonic Qi. Bolts of energy tinged with her own gold, interlaced with stellar yellow.
A swarm of bright spectral cicadas burst forward, their ghostly wings buzzing in a great torrent of light that illuminated every shadow. They dove upon Ashvarak’s illusions, phasing through them like they were smoke. How many particles were there?
Ashvarak snarled, illusions dissolving under the cicadas’ onslaught. His body went truly bright, but Eryndor’s aura suddenly flickered. Amelia sensed it—suddenly, there was a cut in the connection between Ashvarak and Eryndor. “Wait-!”
Seizing the moment, Iskandaar lunged. He clutched Eryndor’s battered body, words of apology slipping from his lips too quietly for Amelia to catch. Then he drove a fist into the possessed man’s gut, making him spit out. “Forgive me, Eryndor,” Iskandaar said, “your mortal shell must endure a moment’s agony so that I may unchain you from this fiend.” He said, and then another blow hammered on the man, making him scream in pain.
Amelia’s pulse raced. She flapped closer to see if Eryndor might be saved. “Iskandaar, don’t- don’t kill Eryndor!” She called, and Iskandaar turned to her.
But before he could reply, Eryndor was gone again. Ashvarak’s flickering face twisted in rage. “You…! What did you do?! What was that?!” His eyes blazed with feral light, illusions flaring up anew.
Iskandaar tilted his head up, like an Emperor looking down on an ant. “Who allowed you to speak in my presence, pest? Silence your poison tongue before I rip your voice from this world.” He said, and then his hand hit the air like thunder, sending arcs of light dancing across the broken columns, as he punched the man again. Broken teeth went flying, and a second later, his Starlight Sword whistled out of his right arm, swirling with Amelia’s gold fire in a mesmerizing pattern.
He thrust that energy straight at the demon’s core.
“Aaargh-!!” He screamed like a man who was being burnt alive. Yet, from Amelia’s vantage, it looked like Eryndor’s flesh remained strangely untouched, as though the red power only targeted the intangible demon inside. That must require an insane level of mana control! Ashvarak roared, black flames flailing in every direction.
The entire colosseum quaked, chunks of stone raining from overhead, forcing Orion and Rhydar to duck under bits of debris that Amelia caught on the periphery of her vision. Vaelion shielded her eyes from a shower of sparks.
Ashvarak screeched, a swirl of purple light bursting from his charred chest. A sudden wave of vile mana flooded the air, and Amelia tasted iron on her tongue. “I-!” Ashvarak screamed, “I’ll return this insult, you mongrel!”
The demon’s essence ripped free of its host, swirling in a hateful tempest overhead. Then, with a final hiss of contempt, Ashvarak’s presence vanished into a swirling rift of darkness in the sky.
“I’ll find you again, HUMAN!” the disembodied voice thundered, trailing off with a venomous echo. “Count on it.”
“Flee to whatever pit you call home, demon. Our reckoning is far from finished,” Iskandaar replied, a small smile on his lips. More importantly, Eryndor’s limp body slumped in his arms, unconscious or dead. Amelia didn’t know, so she ran forward, taking him from Iskandaar’s grasp.
“Oh! He’s- he’s alive!” She was stunned. He quivered like a rag doll, his injuries nightmarish.
“Well,” Iskandaar said from her side, “you asked me to let him live. How could I not fulfill your wish?”
“Ah…” she slowly turned to him, letting out a shaky smile. “Iskandaar. Thank you, but… Just what the hell are you?”
He just smiled, his eyes narrowing in an odd emotion. “It’s nice to see you smile at me again, Amelia,” he said, and before she could express her confusion, his eyes closed. The halo behind him flickered, then dimmed. The swirl of gold and black around him died away, making him lose his flight ability as he began to fall.
Amelia moved, trying to catch him, but she was holding Eryndor’s fragile body, so she was too slow. Thankfully, a blur of red came rushing and caught Iskandaar mid-air for the second time tonight. Solara was breathing heavily, staring down at Iskandaar’s body.
“I got him, Chancellor,” she said, looking up at him. Even as she talked, her energy swept into him as if to keep him alive. “We should bring both of them to immediate medical care.”
Amelia nodded slowly, “Take him to the infirmary, and make sure nobody knows that it was him. He’d like to keep it a secret,” she said.
“...I think so, too,” Solara agreed, and turned on the air, flapping away.
Amelia watched her go and then sighed. She wanted to go with her, but she had more responsibility to cover. She slowly descended to the ground, every muscle in her wings screaming for rest, as she held Eryndor’s body gently.
The destruction began to dim as the Principal spread his influence. Now that the demon was gone, he could do that freely. Vaelion came running to Amelia, Rhydar followed, and soon, everyone surrounded her and the melting body. Professor Lysandra Thorne, the professor of Healing Magic and Restoration, came rushing to help her brother live.