Azrael strode onto the molten battlefield confidently, cloaked in shadows and crowned with fire. Right at this moment he wasn’t Azrael, the player. He was Azrael, the [Lord of the End Forest]. There was a confidence in his actions that he’d thought he’d lost. He wasn’t just confident in his abilities, but also in himself. Even the way he breathed felt confident, cloaked as he was in power and mystique.
The Dragon, this Dragon, had dared to lay fire to his village. With a confidence he hadn’t felt at the time, he had sworn to slay it in front of the entire village. As a [Lord] he was honor bound to slay it. As a player he lived for such challenge and glory.
He took another step and stumbled. Hoping nobody had noticed due to the distance between them he continued on, now acutely aware that his legs were still somewhat shaky and that his hands were slightly clammy. Despite his confidence in himself, he had just narrowly escaped death by dragonfire – a dragon he was calmly walking towards right now. Despite all his confidence in himself, a dragon was still a dragon. Still, the fact that he was currently wielding a power that could tear through the very fabric of reality helped a lot to sooth his nerves.
Resolving himself he let his [Aura] leak out, allowing it to cloak him. The three aspects of his Aura, {Defiance}, {Intimidation}, and {Authority} drew the attention of everyone in the cavern, even if it didn’t quite reach them. Even the dragon turned to take note of him. With all the eyes on him, he felt [Dramatic Flair] act up, adding to his visage.
A non-existent wind caught his shadowed cloak. Streamers of shadowy mist swirled around him, rolling off and sinking back into his cloak. Golden sparks dripped and flashed from his crown, quickly fading as they drifted and fell. {Trickster’s Blessing} also acted up, strengthening his act and unifying the magics cloaking him. Shadows grew darker, melding in with the rest of his clothes, while his crown of flames became a richer gold. His [Aura] swelled, growing not in strength, but in presence.
Like a warrior king of shadow and flame, Azrael confidently continued to stride onto the battlefield, as if the cavern were his by right. He summoned a dagger and coated it with the energy of the void, raising it up to point at the dragon in silent challenge.
There was a glow, a spark and then once again dragonfire was growing deep in the dragon’s gullet, as it took offence at his challenge. This time Azrael didn’t intend to avoid it. He intended for the cloak to work and work it would.
The dragon’s fiery ire raced towards him and he brought the void covered blade down. Reality screamed and fire split, cut in two. It was short-lived, the force of the dragonfire barrelling forwards, more furious than he’d anticipated. He forced more [Void] into his dagger, the blade slowly disintegrating as he lost control of the fickle energy and it lashed out. The stone dagger in his hand bubbled and then turned to dust, destroyed by the chaotic powers of the Void. He hurriedly dropped it, cutting off the flow of energy to the ruined blade. Suddenly free from control the remnant forces of the void lashed out and the dragonfire nearby froze, cracked, and shattered into countless shards of blazing crystal.
And yet the fire went on, the dragon wanting to eradicate him. Perhaps it sensed the dangerous power he was wielding or perhaps it simply wanted this new intruder gone. Either way, Azrael bore the full brunt of the dragon’s fury.
Or rather his cloak did.
Flames licked at it and light pierced it, but the void refilled the shadows of the cloak as it hungrily drank from the dragonfire. What was burnt away was replenished, what was destroyed by light was recalled. Just like feeble shadows could not smother a sun, the dragon’s fire was no match for an embodiment of the shadows. Even his crown of golden flames drank greedily from the dragonfire, drawing it in and making its light and heat its own. Blue screens flashed like warnings, but he had his eyes closed against the brightness of the blaze. He felt his feet slide, his whole body being pushed back by the force of the attack.
Then, it stopped.
He stood, shrouded in shadows and fire, like before. The dragon stood puzzled and the players looked at him in awe.
If he wasn’t suddenly frozen in fear at the absolute stupidity of what he had done and incredibility of that he’d actually survived, he might have said something grandiose, maybe even jumped up and down in childish amazement. As it was all he could do was stand there passively, his cloak silently waving around him.
From somewhere near Lilith, he heard James laughing. He smiled, feeling some tension drain from his shoulders. The dragon looked at him and its shocked expression brought laughter to his own lips.
Like two madmen he and James laughed, while surprised players and a shocked dragon watched him. He raised his right hand high above his head, revelling in the feeling of being undefeatable. He stopped laughing, though the smile remained on his lips.
Instead, he started [Chanting], relishing how the mana came and curled around his fingers. Flames sparked into existence, tinged a prismatic black due to the trickle of void energy he was carefully feeding into the spell.
Around the cavern the few remaining players sensed the end of the battle drawing near. A mage raised his staff high, the crystal at the end shining brightly as it channelled every last bit of his mana. Lilith had her rapier drawn in a fencer’s salute, her lips silently chanting words only she could hear. The healer was kneeling, his hands clutched around his God’s holy symbol. James hefted his sword and the Guild Leader with the last three remaining members of his guild took combat stances, ready to fight or die trying. Of all the preparations, however, the most eye catching was that of the two remaining necromancers.
They had their hand around an item of some kind and whatever ritual they were doing Azrael felt it across the cavern. Energy pulsed and swirled, centered around them, before exploding out in a massive blast. It wasn’t mana, at least not any he was familiar with, but the effects were dramatic.
Around the cavern almost two hundred ghostly figures rose from fallen bodies, crushed corpses and bloody remains. The regretful spirits of downed warrior rose once more as a horde of vengeful ghosts. They opened their mouths, shouts starting off as a whisper that grew into a roar that filled the cavern. It was a call for vengeance. It was a call for blood – dragon blood.
And yet, as he watched, some of them winked out – whatever energy that had called them here unable to sustain their fragile existence. The spectres that vanished did so with a bitter howl. One in ten, two in ten, four in ten, five in ten… their numbers kept falling until only sixty or so remained.
With the ball of fire above his head Azrael let more of the void energy under his control bleed in, the already prismatic black flames deepening into a shade of darkest midnight.
If Sam were here they would have shared a smile and Sam would have said his trademark line, while another friend of theirs – Leila – would have been ready to catch their antics for her stream. It hurt thinking about them, but as it was he still heard Sam’s voice in his head – clear even after all these years.
‘It’s Showtime!’
Azrael unleashed the spear of ravenous black flames he had hovering above his hand, the projectile racing towards the dragon. James charged, the guild master and his member moments behind. The mage was still channelling, while the healer was still praying. Instead, sixty vengeful ghosts charged in, spectral weapons raised. Spectral arrows flew, vanishing through the dragon’s scales and striking deep inside. Spectral blades cut through scales, leaving no trace, but eliciting a roar – a roar which grew louder as Azrael’s spear of void tinged flames struck the dragon’s wing.
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The dragon, cautious of the last time it had been downed raised its wing to shield it from the projectile of flames. What nobody, not even Azrael could predict was that the flaming black lance would pierce straight through the dragon’s wing and cut a deep gouge into its flesh, just behind the head. It left black flames where it struck, before finally colliding into the far wall and digging in deep.
The healer’s voice rose in a final cry, before he collapsed – spent. His prayer answered, light rose from the dragon, before scattering and impacting the remaining players. Azrael felt his wound heal. Cuts, scrapes and bruises vanished off all players, though deeper wounds remained. The dragon on the other hand suffered, within seconds minor wounds became major and major wounds became worse. It sagged.
It let out a weak roar, no longer as confident as it had sounded minutes earlier. It knew its end was coming… but not without a fight. Bringing its tail around, it swept through at least twenty ghost warriors while aiming for the remaining guild members and James. The spectral warriors died a second time, with only a sigh to mark their second passing. Of the two necromancers one collapsed, a further ten ghosts vanishing with them.
As for the unfortunate fighters, the guild members rallied around their leader. With a cry the members briefly glowed and then collapsed before the tail hit them. Their leader gave a cry of his own, hefting up his shield. He glowed with the power of his fallen allies and a massive shield of energy superimposed itself over reality. The dragon tail struck with the force of an avalanche and the shield cracked, but it didn’t break. The force pushed the guild leader back a further ten meters, before the shield flickered and shattered into glittering motes of energy. The man collapsed onto his knees – spent. Only James ran on unscathed, making it to the dragon. His sword swung, shattering scales every second or third blow, before striking at unprotected flesh below.
Beyond the dragon tail’s range, Lilith’s eyes finally flashed open, the final syllable falling from her lips. Here eyes were filled with sparking lightning. The same lighting flashed along her rapier up and down her black clad body. He saw her take a breath to steady herself and then she took a step and was gone, racing along the dragon’s tail.
Lightning flashed with every step she took. Thunder rocketed through the cavern with each stride. Where she passed lightning arced for a few seconds, eagerly running across scales and searing unprotected flesh.
She raced along its back, avoiding pools of congealing blood and patches of arrows. Ever onwards, ever upwards she raced. Azrael saw the lightning on her rapier grow in intensity. The dragon, having begun charging a breath attack to get rid of James, began to turn to face her, before she reached the base of its neck.
Below, the mage finally finished channelling. His staff flashed, his crystal audibly cracked and the cavern was suddenly filled with more light than it had ever seen. Somewhat protected by the shadows of his cloak, Azrael watched the dragon rear up, blinded. Blinded and distracted. As the fire died in its throat Lilith took the moment to aim for the still flaming wound behind its head. She lunged.
Lightning slashed and another peal of thunder echoed through the cavern, but only Azrael saw how her foot slipped in blood from the wound, the strike going wide. It pierced deep, exposing bone, but ultimately failed.
Lilith fell. The light faded.
The dragon came crashing down again, keening. Crystals shattered from the shrill frequency.
The mage collapsed, his staff ruined, his energy empty beyond belief.
The person in a purple robe who had been standing besides Lilith for the battle collapsed bleeding, as her crystal ball exploded. The final necromancer reeled back, the item they had used to channel the ghosts also exploding. With a wounded cry they reeled back, but spread out their arms to the sky in ritual, saving a final twenty ghosts from oblivion.
Even James faltered for a moment, narrowly avoiding the dragon that came crashing down.
As for Lilith, something twisted in her shadow and she was gone, saved from death by collision.
This was it. The end. And all he had was a fancy cloak and a final reckless gambit. He pulled upon his mana, recklessly channelling it as he ran towards James. He shoved it into the ground, drawing upon the natural [Earth] mana contained in the ground with his [Mana Mastery]. [Chanting] aided guiding his intent and he felt a certain sense of vindictiveness as he chanted.
“Rise up earth dragon, fang and claw,…”
The earth buckled as he ran and he noticed bit of it bubble, flake, melt or crystallise and he briefly lost control of his hold over the void energy. He’d never multitasked this much, the effort causing his concentration to slip. He clamped down on the leaking energy, continuing to chant like his life depended on it – which it quite probably did.
“…to bite and pierce...”
James saw him coming, but Azrael had to momentarily ignore the big man as he directed his mana towards the patch in the dragon’s wrist, where he had cleared away all the scales. He pumped almost his entire remaining mana pool into the spell, causing it to [Overcharge]. Mana ripped through him, the void energy it had been controlling being dragged with it. It hurt, feeling like acid coursing through his veins. He both the pain and the blue boxes that popped up, uttering the last of his chant.
‘…Rise up!”
The earth, previously bucking underneath him now actively surged upwards, jagged point rising up to pierce soft, bleeding, unprotected flesh. It pierced through, shearing through flesh and bone. One jagged stone spike, enforced beyond normal means.
[Earth Spear]
The twisting energies of the void, finally free from his control took on the intent of the spell and the [Earth Spear] exploded with a hundred stone barbs, lodging itself in the dragon’s wrist and binding it to the ground. With a twist of void mana he anchored the last of his mana pool into the spear, strengthening it with [Reinforcement]. It wouldn’t hold long. Already the chaotic energies of the void that were running rampant through the [Earth Spear] were eating at it, just like he felt them eating away at him.
The pain made it hard to think, but almost upon James, Azrael shouted out the only word he had for this plan.
“YEET!!!”
He crossed his heart and hoped the big man was dumb enough to understand him.
Without waiting he jumped, adrenaline and boosted stats making it far greater than he’d ever jumped before. It was still nowhere near enough to reach his target – the gruesome wound on the dragon’s nape.
He reached the apex of his jump, his momentum dying and gravity getting ready to take hold once more. He closed his eyes in resignation. The dragon was roaring in pain and straining against the [Earth Spear] that bound it. This was their only remaining shot. It would free itself in a minute. His only consolation was that it would die if he failed. There was no way it could survive such a wound. There was no way anything could survive such a wound and live. Yet, the dragon was still somehow alive and thrashing. The dragon had surprised him more than once today and he hadn’t wanted to risk the chance of retribution. The Holy Empire would probably kill it, he mused. He hated the thought, but it was a small consolation that the village wouldn’t have to fear the dragon ever again.
Gravity took hold and he fell. He would make a run for it when he reached the ground – if he didn’t collapse from the pain first. Maybe he could get out and escape before the Holy Empire arrived.
Something touched the balls of his feet, sending spikes of pain through his entire body. He looked down, having expected the ground to be a little further down. Instead, he saw the smiling blood-drenched face of James, who had jumped up. With a grunt, the big man hefted the sword that he had positioned under Azrael and sent him flying with a grunt. Like a ball from a baseball bat Azrael flew upwards. Below him James was forced back to the ground and Azrael heard a very enthusiastic “YEET!!!”
Reaching the apex of his arc at the wound, Azrael – devoid of mana and pretty much everything including stamina – did the only thing he could. Taking hold of the remnant void energy rampaging through his body he channelled it into his hand and plunged it into the wound that was still burning with black flames.
The flames burnt, but the pain from the void energy burnt worse. He screamed, but even his voice chords seemed to be in agony, emitting no sound. The air around him shimmered and cracked. His cloak twisted, melting into him and his crown melted into his brow like warm wax.
It was agony. It was an eternity. It was a moment.
With one final push he purged the remnant energies into the dragon. It gave a single jerk and shudder, before the willpower that kept driving it faded from its eyes. It sagged and suddenly Azrael was falling. He didn’t notice though. He had blacked out, his body unable to cope with the pain.
A single blue screen popped up, unseen by anyone.
Congratulations!
You have achieved a monumental feat by slaying a World Guardian, the Red Dragon of the West!
It was promptly followed by a whole host more, all equally unnoticed.