“Elio, stay back. We don’t know if you can control those powers. Let me handle the situation.” The Queen says sharply, her voice echoing with authority. Her eyes narrow with both resolve and concern as she slowly removes the glove from her right hand, revealing her pale, delicate fingers. Each movement is deliberate, a practiced grace that masks her tension.
Divine’s lips curl into a confident smile, her eyes glinting with challenge. She strides purposefully toward the Queen, her every step purposeful and unyielding. Her posture is relaxed, yet exudes an air of latent power. As she approaches, her hands move with an elegant precision, her fingers almost dancing with anticipation.
The Queen raises her right hand, the back of it facing Divine. With a swift, fluid motion, she thrusts her palm forward. Instantly, a massive spike of ice erupts from the ground, surging towards Divine with a chilling speed. The spike’s surface glitters with cold, sharp edges, cutting through the air with a menacing hiss.
Divine’s eyes follow the ice spike, and she raises a single finger. Her movement is almost imperceptibly slow, a stark contrast to the speeding ice. As the spike nears, Divine flicks her finger with a dismissive air. The ice shatters into a myriad of fragments, scattering in a sparkling explosion of coldness. The shards fly harmlessly past her, clinking onto the ground with soft, tinkling sounds.
Without missing a beat, The Queen’s expression shifts from surprise to determination. Her other hand swiftly moves to conjure a fireball. Her fingers curl around the crackling sphere of flame, and she draws her arm back, her shoulder tensing as she prepares for the throw. The fireball bursts from her hand, trailing a fiery arc through the air as it hurtles toward Divine with fierce intensity.
Divine’s eyes narrow slightly as she assesses the incoming fireball. With a fluid motion, she extends her hand and catches the blazing sphere mid-air. Her fingers grip the fiery mass effortlessly, the flames dancing around her palm. She twists her wrist, and with a deft flick, she sends the fireball hurtling back towards The Queen.
The Queen’s eyes widen in alarm. She sidesteps with a quick, graceful pivot, her gown swirling around her legs as she narrowly avoids the returning fireball. Her face flushes with a mix of frustration and surprise. As she regains her footing, Divine’s form appears above her, the suddenness of her presence making the Queen’s heart race. The Queen's eyes dart upward, and she utters a startled, “SHIT!” as she stumbles backward, her arms flailing slightly to regain balance.
Divine hovers above her, her expression one of serene amusement. Her posture remains relaxed, her arms loose at her sides, her fingers relaxed but poised. Her smile widens into a taunting grin. The Queen, looking up with a mixture of surprise and irritation, watches as Divine floats effortlessly above her, the very embodiment of casual confidence.
“Oh boo, you afraid? I am not even trying, Miss Queen. Make me try, will you?” Divine’s voice is light, almost playful, dripping with condescension. Her eyes gleam with a challenge, and her smile remains, unfazed by the Queen’s mounting frustration. The Queen’s expression shifts from shock to a fierce, determined glare, her breathing quickening as she prepares for whatever comes next.
The Queen's frustration manifests in a sharp, irritated “Tsch!” as she scans her surroundings, her eyes darting rapidly. Her face is set in a determined scowl, her jaw clenched tightly. She swiftly commands, “WIND! FREEZE!” and a gust of wind whips around her, lifting her gown and sending her hair streaming behind her like a wild, dark mane. She channels the freezing power into the wind, her body vibrating with the effort.
As the Queen moves, her feet barely touch the ground, and she propels herself forward with a burst of speed. Her legs pump powerfully, each stride carrying her rapidly towards Divine. Simultaneously, she thrusts her hand forward, conjuring multiple ice spikes that shoot towards Divine with deadly precision. The ice spikes are sharp and glint with a menacing blue hue, slicing through the air.
Divine’s eyes remain calm and focused as she watches the ice spikes approach. Her demeanor is relaxed, almost indifferent. With a simple flick of her finger, she sends the ice spikes shattering into a cascade of harmless fragments. The shattered ice drops to the ground with soft, tinkling sounds, and Divine’s expression remains one of effortless amusement.
As the ice shards rain down, The Queen’s face tightens with frustration. She appears behind the scattered ice, her body moving in a blur. Her arm is drawn back, her fist enveloped in roaring flames. Her entire form is a picture of fierce determination as she lunges toward Divine with a powerful punch. Her fist, a blazing inferno, is aimed directly at Divine’s face.
Divine’s eyes lock onto the incoming attack with an almost bored curiosity. As the Queen’s flaming fist nears, Divine remains unperturbed. With a casual twist of her head, she leans back slightly, her posture relaxed. The punch connects with her face, but Divine remains unscathed. Her expression shifts to one of mild disdain, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Man, man, man, if only you were a bit strong, Miss Queen,” she says, her voice dripping with condescension.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
The Queen’s eyes widen in disbelief, her mouth falling open in shock. Her body stiffens momentarily, her face reflecting a mix of confusion and anger. She tries to pull her flaming fist back, but before she can react further, Divine’s hand snaps out and grabs the Queen’s wrist with a vice-like grip.
With a swift, fluid motion, Divine twists the Queen’s arm and flings her effortlessly across the room. The Queen’s body arcs through the air, her gown fluttering around her in a chaotic swirl. She crashes against the wall near Elio with a resounding thud, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Her head tilts back, her eyes wide with pain and surprise. Her body slumps slightly as she slides down the wall, her breathing ragged and uneven.
Divine watches with an almost bored expression, her posture still relaxed and composed. She surveys the scene with a detached air, her fingers lightly brushing against her side as if to dismiss the altercation as insignificant. The Queen, now crumpled against the wall, appears defeated, her earlier fiery determination replaced by a stunned, pained expression.
Elio stands frozen, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and confusion. His breathing comes in rapid, shallow bursts as he watches the chaotic scene unfold before him. His mind races, torn between indecision and fear. His thoughts whirl in a chaotic swirl: “What the hell is happening? What’s this speed? Should I transform or should I wait? I don’t know.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers fidgeting nervously at his sides. His training with Uriel over the past month does little to ease the torrent of anxiety coursing through him. Despite the rigorous exercises and drills, the pressure of the moment leaves him paralyzed.
Divine's voice cuts through his thoughts with a chilling clarity. “Show me your power as well, boy, or else I will kill that woman who assumes to be the Queen of the Undergrounders.” Her tone is cold and menacing, her gaze piercing as it fixes on Elio. Her posture remains relaxed, almost languid, as if she’s simply bored by the current turn of events. Her hand gestures dismissively towards the Queen, who slumps against the wall, her face a mask of pain and bloodied defeat.
The Queen, leaning heavily against the wall, her body trembling with the effort to stay upright, suddenly spits out a spatter of blood. The crimson streaks across the floor, a stark contrast against the pale stone. Her face contorts in a grimace of agony, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. “DON’T! I CAN STILL—” Her voice breaks off, barely a whisper, as she struggles to maintain her defiant posture.
Divine glances dismissively at the Queen, her lips curling into a derisive smirk. “Oh please, you can’t fight, Miss Queen.” Her words are laced with contempt, her eyes glinting with a dangerous gleam. She crosses her arms over her chest, her fingers drumming lightly on her forearms, emphasizing her nonchalance.
Elio’s throat feels dry as he gulps, the sound almost audible in the tense silence. His hands clench into fists, his knuckles white against his skin. His heart pounds heavily in his chest, each beat echoing his rising fear and uncertainty. The sight of the Queen’s bloodied, weakened state only intensifies his internal struggle. “I have no choice,” he thinks to himself, the resolve slowly hardening within him. His body tenses as he shifts from indecision to a decision. His eyes flicker towards the Queen, then back to Divine, as he steels himself for the battle ahead.
Elio’s fingers tremble as he retrieves the Ring of the Dark Dragon from his pocket. The ring’s surface glints ominously in the dim light, its dark, intricate designs reflecting his fear and determination. His hand shakes slightly as he slips the ring onto his finger, the cool metal pressing against his skin. His heart races, pounding against his ribcage as he tries to steady his breathing. He takes a deep breath, trying to quell the fear that knots in his stomach.
“If you want it, you will get it,” Elio says, his voice wavering slightly despite his attempt to sound resolute. His eyes are wide with a mixture of apprehension and resolve as he faces Divine. He raises his arms, his palms facing upward, the ring catching the light in a fleeting flash.
“FIGHT! DARK DRAGON!” Elio’s shout is filled with both desperation and a fierce determination. His voice cracks under the strain, but he presses on, his entire body tense with the effort to summon his powers.
As he invokes the ring, a surge of dark energy envelops him, swirling around his form in a tempestuous maelstrom of shadows. The air crackles with the power of the transformation, and Elio’s body starts to change. His form begins to elongate and shift, his silhouette outlined by flickering, dark flames. Heavy armor materializes around him, its surface gleaming with a menacing sheen. The armor is dark and imposing, each piece fitted perfectly to his body. It has a jagged, intimidating design, with intricate patterns etched into the metal.
A red cape bursts forth from his back, flowing dramatically behind him. The fabric flutters and ripples with each movement, the deep crimson hue contrasting starkly with the dark armor. The cape's edges are tattered and worn, adding to the menacing aura of the transformation.
The visor of Elio’s helmet shifts into the shape of a dragon’s face, its eyes glowing with an eerie, fierce light. The dragon’s features are detailed and fierce, lending an added layer of intimidation to his already formidable appearance.
“Ringmaster…Dark Dragon…” Elio’s voice emerges from beneath the helmet, slightly muffled but still resonant with newfound strength. His tone is steadier now, his fear replaced by a steely resolve. He raises his gloved hand, feeling the weight and power of the transformation settling into place. His fingers curl into a fist, the metal of his gauntlets clinking softly as he prepares for the impending battle.
His stance is solid and grounded, his legs slightly apart for balance. He straightens his back, the armor’s heavy plates moving in unison with his muscles. His eyes, visible through the dragon-shaped visor, lock onto Divine with a fierce intensity. Every muscle in his body is tensed and ready, the transformation complete. Elio stands poised, ready to fight with the full force of his new powers.