----------------------------------------

Chapter 20 – Parasitism

Without pause, Kyrios leapt onto the dragon's tail with primal ferocity, gripping every ridge of its rock-solid scales. It tossed itself upward in frustration, ramming against the wall several times, yet Kyrios remained unfettered, claws dug in for optimal support. From underfoot, ice-sharp projectiles swirled, encircling his feet with a razor-sharp bite, but none managed to cleave a detrimental gash. His claws' rejuvenating power served as a passive effect and nullified all cuts while ripping its hide like a hunter on the prowl.

Climbing the tail like a mountain, ice blocks crashing from the ceiling grazed his face. Several cuts marred his body. Yet he remained impervious to pain in that instant, finally reaching his destination: The head. Once at the summit and with two clawed fists firmly grounded, he leaped up with a war cry in the direction of its eyes. The moment the impact's strength crushed them, an electrifying wave surged all along Kyrios' legs and blasted against his arms, triggering another burst of gore from the dragon. And as the blood flew, he sensed a raw sensation coursing his veins—lung-curdling, heart-stopping euphoria inundated his entire being in a haze.

Something inside his mind was waking up to take its course. The feeling of dominance flared its true colors like an untold desire to kill. Now fully conscious in the land of the living, something bristled with uncontained madness and was dying to break loose; there were no walls of restraint. It felt free.

A shiver cascaded along his skin as he lost control over his own body. His muscles twitched and convulsed, an unseen force propelling him into a stance of eerie grace. His fingers flexed involuntarily, and from the tips, tendrils of emerald-green energy erupted, spiraling outward in a chaotic waltz.

His pulse thundered in his ears, pounding like a war drum. He watched, a spectator in his own flesh, as the plants unfurled their essence with wild abandon. Vines erupted from his skin, snaking along his arms and torso, their verdant hues like a stark contrast against his pallid flesh. Leaves sprouted like delicate armor, rustling wildly from the sharp wind. Fear melded like a heady cocktail of turmoil, leaving his blood racing with untold desires. There were so many sensations no training could ever prepare him to endure.

He was no longer himself but a vessel for the untamed magic that had chosen this moment to erupt.

"Gaaaraghh!! Ack! G-get it off me!!" Kyrios wheezed, desperately trying to force them away. His efforts proved to no avail as a deluge of vines wormed its way through his skin before ensnaring his hands. Its insides pulsed like a beating organ, bulging like sacs ready to explode; even his pupils widened in angst. He pulled the vines from within his wrist before severing the connection with his claw from one limb to another as he threw them back down. Regardless, they returned right as he discarded them, clinging to his body like a parasite.

The dragon wasn't staying quiet either as it crashed atop its stomach in pure agony, screeching so terribly as its own wings were snatching itself. It tried thrashing with all its strength to shatter the vines to pieces, but nothing budged; the more it struggled, the deeper they stuck. It began clawing wildly, rolling down its scales at first and then moving up onto the shoulders, finally ripping at the base where the vines met Kyrios's arms.

For now, the dragon appeared to be a ball of twitching leather tied up tight. Even in such an emaciated shape, its maw remained dangerous, as did its writhing spikes. Everywhere else on its body, however, was an entirely different story. The foliage clustered thickly around the torso and head to prevent much of any movement, their roots tangled tightly and interlocking one into another like an armored carapace that covered all it touched. No part of the dragon escaped unchecked. Not even its soul.

Crimson fluid spilled freely from its throat, oozing between its tattered scales and dripping from its eyes like thickened mud to the snout. More blood seeped from the myriad gashes on its hide, staining the pristine snow red. Even the metallic scent mingled with the biting cold.

The dragon's body splayed out across the cavern while wings tore themselves from its back, howling aloud to the world with a mix of fear and fury. With one final lurch, the dragon gashed the ice until its exposed flesh tore apart. Like vengeful spirits, razor-edged fragments of crystal were hurled toward Kyrios' midriff. They hit him, although the swirling chaos of the rampant foliage dampened their force. The dragon seemed to recognize that, yet still clung to the glimmering hope of breaking its shackles. But all the damage done amounted to nothing, only inflicting slight injury and nicks all across Kyrios' skin. And as a last desperate hiss escaped its jaw, it fell utterly motionless.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

With its death, the vines began retracting as Kyrios' legs gave out. He fell to the ground, lying in a pool of tainted snow. The silence of the room grew deafening once more, except for the occasional squishy noise beneath it. All that remained were remnants until a sound eventually resonated in his mind at the brink of his consciousness.

- [ Notice ] -

< You've defeated a Primordial Flame Drake>

< You've gained 15283 EXP>

…

…

…

***

When he awoke, the words "Primordial Flame Drake" stuck into the forefront of his mind before dissolving into memory. He wasn't sure how much he had leveled up or how much his stats had improved; he just knew it would benefit him in some way. As far as Kyrios knew, there was no way to check his stats. "What a flawed system," he thought.

His body was a mess, remains of leaves and vines scattered across its surface, some attached and others floating across his clothes. Beneath him, a mixture of bloody remains from both the dragon and Kyrios coated the area like freshly poured rain on wet concrete. "How much time had passed?"

Bruised and aching to the core, he mustered his best efforts to push himself up. When he went to use the surrounding walls to stabilize himself, a sticky substance clung to his skin, and a horrible stench greeted his nose. Wiping the thick goop from his head, his nose wrinkled at the smell before looking to find a chunk of flesh lying atop the matted leaf. He flinched with revulsion at the sight of his hair clinging together in gooey strands and splinters of bone sticking from it.

"How horrifying," Kyrios said solemnly with a grim expression on his face as he pulled the bones from his scalp before wiping away the remnants of whatever remained in his hair. "I gotta wash my hair with something later."

Casting a wary gaze toward the fallen dragon, he recoiled in dread as he observed the gruesome reality: a substantial portion of its body was missing, seemingly devoured by something. But there were no signs of large carnivorous predators or wandering humanoid creatures. Only him—alone in his victory. Only his scent lingered heavily in the chilled, sterile atmosphere, so foul it was he could almost taste it. He wasn't feeling hungry, but perhaps the thought of devouring this giant reptilian creature crossed his mind momentarily, especially after discovering his nature to obtain benefits from devouring his victims. With another glance, vomit threatened to spill as his mind visualized the taste of those nasty, putrid chunks of flesh, and he refocused back on the surroundings, walking his attention off. "So much is going on at the same time. I don't even know if I'm feeling happy or sick," he sighed.

The dragon's corpse was cooling down, and the temperature was returning to the typical frosty climate. Before long, even its bloodied areas began to solidify into a maroon slush, caking on the cracked ice. He saw nothing else moving other than a few dying wayward embers flickering about. An unnatural sense of loneliness arose amidst all of that lifelessness. At once, its eerie silence pierced him with foreboding, an ebb tugging at his mind, gnawing at him like an itch he couldn't get rid of no matter how hard he scratched. "Right, maybe the little lizard is still alive. Sigh... I gotta look for the other people as soon as possible, too," he muttered.

Following that epiphany, he circled the dragon's remains like a scavenger, pushing his leg against the scaled belly to see if it might break free. He stomped lightly and yanked at the loose chunks still connected to the dragon's abdomen. A cluster of lukewarm red droplets cascaded over his boots, but it didn't move afterward, only sputtering a bit. With an awful snap, something broke out from the coagulated lump; its back side caved forward, a rippled pattern marking its edge. A half-bitten tail stuck out of the fallen wreckage. He pinched it with his fingers to avoid dirtying his hands too much, pulling it out before shaking its stiff appendage. Its broken body jiggled like gelatin in his hand.

The lizard must've survived being eaten but suffocated inside the dragon's gut, buried by its carcass.

He backed away, holding onto it for a while in silence. Strangest of all, not even his thoughts sounded at all. There was an emptiness, and in the far, far distance, faint pulses of anger radiated across the desolate realm.

It was a sensation that must never reach a breaking point.