The vines that wove the arena glistened faintly with Kivorn’s magic, the dome pulsating with life as if reacting to the tension inside. The massive circular platform of roots beneath them creaked ominously, a testament to the collision of power that was about to unfold. Kivorn stood lazily at the edge of the dome, his half-lidded eyes flickering with faint annoyance every time the structure shuddered from Mertha’s mere presence.
Mertha cracked her knuckles, her muscular frame towering over her opponents. Her jagged, dark pink halo flickered as if anticipating the carnage she was about to unleash. The spirit gauntlets around her massive fists gleamed faintly, and her stoic yet predatory grin was enough to make even the bravest feel small. “You boys ready?” she asked calmly, her voice carrying a quiet confidence that bordered on terrifying.
Xyenn crouched low, his black-and-dark-pink aura rippling faintly around his body like a living flame. His sharp claws tapped against the ground, his tail lashing behind him like a whip. Beside him, Draeven tightened the wraps around his forearms, the cloth gliding over his skin with precision. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, but his stance was steady.
“Draeven,” Xyenn muttered, his voice low. “We can’t overpower her. She’s too strong. So—.”
Draeven nodded, his eyes darting toward Mertha’s imposing frame. “—Then we outsmart her.”
Xyenn grinned, his fangs flashing. “Exactly.”
‘It’s like this guy read my mind.’
Xyenn asked Draeven, “So what’s your skills and stuff?”
“I-I can reinforce my wraps onto certain parts of my body to increase its strength and toughness, I'm really good at martial arts, and I can manipulate the smoke from my body.”
“Good.”
‘That makes me wonder…he doesn’t have Yuuna’s blood, her draconic mana, does he? Nothing in his arsenal screams darkness…what is he really? Where is he from?’
Xyenn leapt forward first, his body a blur of movement as he sprinted low to the ground, claws scraping against the platform. Mertha’s sharp eyes tracked him, but she didn’t move. She stood her ground, her massive body radiating an aura of unshakable power.
‘Tch! I forgot how stable she was. Maybe we can use that-‘ Xyenn thought.
The moment Xyenn was within striking distance, he pivoted sharply on his left foot, twisting his body into a wide, sweeping kick aimed at her ribs. Mertha didn’t flinch; she stepped into the kick, her left arm rising to block it. The impact was bone-crunching, Xyenn’s shin slamming into her forearm, but Mertha didn’t budge an inch. Instead, she grabbed his leg mid-motion with her free hand.
“Too obvious,” she muttered, her muscles flexing as she swung him like a ragdoll.
‘I know Xyenn wants me to go 100%, but I cannot. After the condition he ended up in last time, if we run into any danger, and he isn’t able to merge with Yuuna, he’ll be too weak to fight. I hate seeing you half dead, brat.’
Xyenn twisted mid-air, slashing at her face with his claws as she hurled him toward the ground. Mertha leaned back, the claws barely grazing her cheek, and slammed him into the platform with earth-shattering force. Splinters flew as the roots cracked beneath him.
“Xyenn!” Draeven shouted, but there was no time to check on him. Mertha had already turned toward him, her heavy footsteps thundering as she closed the distance in a flash. Draeven ducked low as her fist came flying toward his face—a quick, brutal jab that whistled past his head and struck the air with a force that made his ears ring.
Draeven spun on his heel, twisting his body into a low roundhouse kick aimed at her knee. Mertha shifted her weight at the last second, her balance impeccable, and brought her other leg up in a brutal stomp aimed at his head. Draeven threw himself backward, the stomp narrowly missing his face and leaving a deep dent in the platform.
As Draeven rolled to his feet, Xyenn came barreling back into the fray, a trickle of blood running down his temple but his grin wider than ever.
“She hits like a damn mountain,” Xyenn growled, wiping the blood away. “Awesome…!”
Draeven darted to his side, his breath heavy. “We need to throw her off balance. She’s too grounded.”
‘He’s happy?! Mertha is a barreling tower of war and Xyenn is laughing and smiling…he sure is a weird friend!’
“I’ve got an idea,” Xyenn said, his aura flaring slightly. “Follow my lead.”
Xyenn charged again, but this time his movements were erratic, unpredictable. He zigzagged across the platform, his claws raking sparks from the ground as he feinted left and right. Mertha’s eyes narrowed, her body tensing as she prepared to intercept him.
But just as Xyenn reached her, Draeven darted in from the opposite side. He threw a quick jab at her ribs, his fist wrapped tightly in reinforced cloth. Mertha caught the punch on her forearm, her stoic expression unchanging as she countered with a brutal elbow aimed at Draeven’s jaw.
Draeven ducked just in time, and Xyenn capitalized on the opening. He dropped to all fours and sprang upward like a coiled spring, his claws slashing upward toward Mertha’s chin. The strike landed, blood spraying into the air as his claws left three jagged lines across her jaw.
Xyenn, gritting her teeth, ‘Got her!’
Mertha’s head snapped back slightly, but her grin widened. “Not bad,” she said, her voice calm despite the blood dripping from her face. “But you’ll need more than that.”
“Damn. Of course you’d say that.”
She lashed out with a backhand that caught Xyenn mid-air, the impact sending him skidding across the platform. The force of the blow rattled the entire dome, and Kivorn groaned from the sidelines, his staff glowing brighter as he reinforced the structure.
“This is getting annoying,” Kivorn muttered, his tired voice carrying over the sounds of battle. “If they break this thing, I’m not rebuilding it.”
Mertha didn’t give them time to recover. She charged forward, her fists a ray of motion as she unleashed a barrage of punches aimed at both Xyenn and Draeven. The two scrambled to dodge, Mertha’s fists striking the ground and leaving cracks in the platform with every missed blow. Xyenn and Draeven were avoiding the heavy blows as they even jumped and rolled over each other and twisted behind one another to avoid attacks.
This action made Gorran, who was up high, think, ‘They’re dodging Mertha’s blows while avoiding bumping into each other, basically dodging each other as well…?’
“Keep moving!” Xyenn shouted, ducking under a hook that would’ve taken his head off. “Don’t let her pin us down!”
“Y-Yeah!” Draeven grinned a little.
He was having fun. Seeing Xyenn was enjoying this, made him enjoy this as well. He didn’t wanna look all gloomy and ruin the mood like he used too as a child.
Draeven darted behind her, his wraps extending to catch her ankle. He yanked hard, trying to pull her off balance, but Mertha simply stomped down, snapping the reinforced cloth like thread. She spun around, her elbow crashing into Draeven’s chest and sending him sprawling.
“Draeven!” Xyenn yelled.
Xyenn took the opportunity to attack, his claws slashing at her exposed back. Mertha twisted at the last second, catching his wrist mid-swing. Her grip was like iron, and she yanked him forward, slamming her knee into his stomach. Xyenn coughed up blood, but he gritted his teeth and grabbed her arm with his free hand, digging his claws into her flesh.
“Persistent,” Mertha muttered, shaking him off with a flick of her arm.
‘He’s grown since the first day we trained. He’s able to adapt like I am, able to see better oppunrtied and use his brain more.’
Draeven staggered to his feet, clutching his ribs. “We can’t keep this up,” he said, his voice strained. “She’s too fast.”
Xyenn wiped the blood from his mouth, his aura flaring brighter. “Then we make her come to us.”
“What are you—” Draeven started, but Xyenn was already moving.
He charged Mertha again, but this time his movements were slower, more deliberate. Mertha raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Giving up already?” she asked, throwing a quick jab at his face. “Keep running like that, I’m gonna blow you away!”
Xyenn ducked under the punch, stepping into her range as if inviting her to attack. Mertha obliged, her fists flying in a relentless barrage of punches and kicks that Xyenn narrowly dodged or deflected. Blood dripped from his arms where her strikes grazed him, but he didn’t retreat.
Draeven saw his chance. He darted in from the side, his wraps extending to reinforce Xyenn’s arms. “Now!” he shouted.
Xyenn caught Mertha’s next punch with both hands, his reinforced arms holding firm against her immense strength. He grinned through gritted teeth. “Gotcha.”
Draeven leapt over Xyenn’s back, his fist glowing faintly as he drove a reinforced punch straight into Mertha’s gut. The impact finally made her stagger, a wheezing sound escaping her lips as she took a step back.
Illyana gasped, “They hit her…and Mertha’s going at least 50%.”
For the first time, Mertha’s grin faltered. She wiped the blood from her lips, her jagged halo flickering faintly. “Not bad,” she said, her voice tinged with genuine respect. “But playtime’s over.”
‘Not a lot of space in this arena, I can’t go too crazy. I’ll up my strength to at least 55%.’
She surged forward with renewed ferocity, her fists a blur as she attacked both of them simultaneously. Xyenn and Draeven moved in perfect sync, dodging and countering as best they could, but Mertha’s speed and power were overwhelming.
Xyenn ducked under a sweeping hook, his claws slashing at her ribs, while Draeven aimed a spinning kick at her knee. Mertha caught the kick with one hand, twisting Draeven’s leg and hurling him into Xyenn. The two crashed to the ground in a heap, blood dripping from their mouths.
“She’s insane,” Zyphira muttered, downing a swig of mead. “How are those two still standing?”
Sethrak smirked, his arms crossed. “They’re not bad. But Mertha’s just built different. Literally. She is strong.”
Illyana watched with a serene smile, cradling Yuuna in her lap. “They’re learning. That’s what matters.”
Kivorn groaned as the dome shuddered again. “If they don’t end this soon, I’m letting the whole thing collapse….”
Illyana said to Kivorn with a smile, “Aww, it’s okay. They’ll be sure to handle it with care.”
“Obviously not..look how they’re trying to—waittt..:you’re being sarcastic aren’t you?”
“Mhm!” Illyana chuckled.
Xyenn and Draeven pulled themselves to their feet, bloodied but unbroken. “One last shot,” Xyenn said, his voice ragged. “Let’s give her everything we’ve got.”
Draeven nodded, his wraps tightening around his fists. “Right behind you.”
They charged together, their movements perfectly synchronized. Xyenn led with a feint, his claws aiming for Mertha’s face before dipping low to slash at her legs. Draeven followed up with a rapid series of punches, each one aimed at her vital points.
Mertha blocked and countered with devastating efficiency, but the two fighters pressed on, their relentless assault finally forcing her back. Xyenn slipped behind her, his tail whipping around to catch her off guard, while Draeven reinforced his arms for one final strike.
The punch landed squarely in Mertha’s chest, sending her skidding back. She grinned, blood dripping from her lips. “Well done,” she said, before stepping forward and delivering a devastating uppercut that knocked both of them out cold.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
The dome finally collapsed, its vines crumbling as Kivorn let out a long, exasperated sigh. “About time.”
Mertha stood over her fallen opponents, her grin wider than ever. “Not bad, boys. Not bad at all.”
Xyenn and Draeven laid there, catching their breath.
“Welp…we’re not dead.” Xyenn joked.
“Haha, yeah.”
Xyenn raised his fist slowly at Draeven, looking for a fist bump. Draeven saw it, and was shocked to see it so quickly. Draeven fist bumped him back.
Xyenn then thought, ‘It’s weird, but I can feel myself getting stronger. This is good, if I can train to be on Haldrek’s level…nah forget it. That old man has, like, 400 years of cultivating his draconic mana. He didn’t even need to let Kragvyr merge with him. But this is good for me. The stronger I am when I’m not merged with Yuuna, the stronger me and Yuuna will become..’
In the world of Kyrrin, worshippers of the Dragon Gods are granted a fragment of their deity's essence—Dragon Blood, a divine substance imbued with Draconic Mana, the primordial force that flows through all of creation. This blood is both a blessing and a burden, for it ties the worshipper to the nature of their chosen Dragon God, shaping their magic, body, and soul in profound and often irreversible ways. Through rigorous training, meditation, rituals, and personal growth, these individuals can cultivate and refine the Dragon Mana within them, unlocking greater powers over time.
The ship drifted quietly over the vast expanse of the waters, its hull cutting through the gentle waves with a rhythmic lulling sound. The night sky above them was a canvas of infinite stars, their light so bright and vivid it cast faint reflections on the dark waters below. Two moons hung high, one a luminous silver disk, the other a faint, ghostly blue crescent. Between them, faint streams of cosmic light spiraled and intertwined, as if the heavens themselves were alive with motion.
Occasionally, the sea itself would ripple with an unnatural glow. Mythic creatures stirred beneath the surface—long, serpentine shadows that danced just beyond sight, their faint bioluminescence casting eerie but beautiful patterns in the water. Every so often, a massive silhouette would break the surface: a Blue Skywhale, its fins adorned with glimmering silver scales, breached the water with a soundless grace, vanishing moments later into the depths.
Above, the sky was no less alive. Strange, bird-like creatures with translucent wings soared silently, their feathers shimmering like prisms in the moonlight. A distant ghost-like ship floated across the horizon, its ghostly sails glowing faintly as it passed like a mirage. Somewhere far off, the faint melody of a siren’s song drifted through the air—a hauntingly beautiful sound that sent shivers down spines, even in sleep.
The ship’s crew and the Tyrants were all resting now, their earlier chaos and battle worn down into an exhausted stillness. The only sounds were the creak of wood, the soft lap of waves, and the faint, serene breathing of those aboard.
Xyenn and Yuuna were curled up against one another near the center of the deck. Yuuna had unconsciously latched onto Xyenn in her sleep, her arms wrapped loosely around him like a child clutching a beloved toy. Her face, usually animated and chaotic, was now calm and peaceful, her breathing steady. Xyenn had leaned back against a crate, his head tilted slightly to the side as he dozed off.
The two of them, despite their often combative and chaotic interactions, looked oddly at peace together—a rare and fleeting moment of calm between them.
Gorran walked quietly across the deck, his heavy boots making almost no sound against the wooden planks. His hand rested on the hilt of Xenith, the blade of darkness that never left his side. The sword’s jagged edges and spiraling red eyes glowed faintly, casting ominous shadows that seemed to writhe and pulse like living creatures. Gorran barely noticed; his mind was elsewhere, clouded by memories that refused to stay buried.
He stopped a few feet away from Xyenn and Yuuna, his cold, brooding eyes narrowing as he stared down at them. His grip on Xenith tightened.
The world around Gorran blurred and shifted, and he was no longer on the ship. He was a child again, standing in the dim, torch-lit halls of the Xenith Clan’s hidden stronghold. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, blood, and the faint metallic tang of weapons.
He could hear the voice of his father, Vorrak the Phantom, echoing through the chamber. Vorrak was the leader of the Xenith Clan, a towering and ruthless man whose very presence demanded obedience. His words were sharp and brutal, cutting through Gorran’s young mind like the blade of a dagger.
“Strength is all that matters, Gorran,” Vorrak growled, his voice a low, rumbling snarl. “If you are not strong, you are nothing. If you cannot kill, you deserve to die.”
Gorran, barely ten years old, was on his knees, blood dripping from his split lip and bruised face. He had been sparring with older clan members—grown men who held back nothing despite his age. His small frame trembled, but he didn’t cry. He wouldn’t give his father the satisfaction of seeing him break.
“Stand up,” Vorrak commanded, his shadow looming over Gorran. “Stand up and fight, or I’ll kill you myself.”
Gorran forced himself to his feet, his vision blurred from the blows he had taken. The room spun around him, but he steadied himself, his small hands tightening into fists. The older clan member he was sparring with, a man twice his size, smirked and stepped forward.
“Come on, boy,” the man sneered. “Show me what the Phantom’s whelp can do.”
Gorran didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward with a speed that belied his size, his movements precise and calculated. He ducked under the man’s swing, driving his elbow into his opponent’s ribs with enough force to stagger him. The man grunted, but before he could recover, Gorran swept his legs out from under him and drove a dagger into his throat.
The room went silent. Gorran stood over the man’s lifeless body, his small chest heaving with effort. Blood dripped from his dagger onto the cold stone floor.
Vorrak’s voice broke the silence. “Good. Remember this, Gorran: kill those who would kill you. Show no mercy. Weakness will destroy you.”
As the years passed, Gorran became the clan’s youngest and most dangerous assassin. His father’s praise was rare but fierce, and Gorran lived for it. He never failed a mission, never hesitated to take a life. He was a weapon, forged in blood and sharpened by pain.
But that life ended in fire and screams. He was there when the Xenith Clan was slaughtered—ambushed by enemies they had underestimated. Gorran had fought to the bitter end, watching his clanmates and his father fall around him. In the end, he was the only one left, standing amidst the ruins of everything he had ever known.
The flashback faded, and Gorran was back on the ship. He stood over Xyenn and Yuuna, his grip on Xenith tight as shadows began to swirl around the blade. The red eyes embedded in the sword glowed brighter, their gaze fixed on Xyenn as if they hungered for his blood.
Gorran’s heart pounded in his chest as memories of his training and his father’s words echoed in his mind. “Kill those who would kill you. Show no mercy.”
Xyenn had defeated him before. He had spared him—humiliated him. Gorran’s entire being screamed for vengeance, for the chance to reclaim his honor. He raised Xenith, the blade trembling in his hand as the shadows around it writhed like living things.
But then, he hesitated.
‘Why….?!’
Moments later, Gorran found himself alone at the bow of the ship. The cold night air bit at his skin, but he barely noticed. He had sheathed Xenith, but the blade still called to him, whispering dark thoughts into his mind.
He pulled the sword free again and held it against his chest, the jagged edges pressing lightly against his skin. His hands trembled as he gritted his teeth, his voice a low growl. “Why couldn’t I do it? Why couldn’t I kill him?”
‘No way I feel sympathy for that brat…?! Seeing Yuuna happy around him?!’
Memories of his father flashed through his mind—his father’s praise, his father’s lectures, his father’s disappointment. “I’m a failure,” Gorran muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I let him live. I let *him* win. Father... I’ve let you down.”
He tightened his grip on the blade, his breathing ragged as he prepared to drive it into himself. But before he could, a hand grabbed his wrist.
“You’re a fool,” Sethrak’s calm, arrogant voice cut through the silence.
Gorran turned sharply, his eyes blazing with anger. “Let go of me, dragon,” he snarled. “Or I’ll kill you too.”
Sethrak smirked, completely unfazed. “Oh, please. Spare me the melodrama. You’re not going to kill me. You’re not going to kill yourself, either—not if you think about it for more than two seconds.”
Gorran’s glare intensified. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know enough,” Sethrak said smoothly, releasing Gorran’s wrist but stepping closer, his tone dripping with condescension. “If you kill yourself now, you’re giving Xyenn the ultimate victory. He beat you, humiliated you, and now you’re going to let him live rent-free in your head while you throw your life away? Pathetic. And just know, I’m pretty sure if you even were able to kill Xyenn, for all we know, Yuuna would probably unlock her memories of him back and slaughter you and devour the entire world. You know Yuuna is a ticking stick of dynamite, she’s unpredictable.”
Gorran’s hand tightened on his sword, but he said nothing.
“And let’s not forget,” Sethrak continued, gesturing lazily toward the sleeping Yuuna. “If you die, Yuuna’s going to lose her mind. She’ll go on a rampage, and do you know who’s going to have to deal with that? The rest of us. You want all of us to die because you couldn’t handle a bruised ego? She cherishes us Tyrants. We’re the only family to her. Don’t ruin it for the sake of your childhood and ideology of revenge. It’s disgusting. It clouded your mind, you didn’t even think of the consequences.”
Gorran growled low in his throat. “Get out of my sight, dragon.”
Sethrak smirked, turning to walk away. “Whatever you say, assassin. Just remember: you can’t win if you’re dead. And you’ll face him again, won’t you? Ask him for a rematch when the time is right. If we all survive.”
Gorran watched him go, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. He wanted to ignore Sethrak’s words, to silence the voice in his head that told him the dragon was right. But the truth gnawed at him.
He sheathed Xenith and whispered to himself, his voice low and determined. “I’ll face him once again.”
The morning sun broke over the horizon, its light spilling across the jagged cliffs and dense forests that surrounded the Tyrants’ ship. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew and the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. The group stood on the deck, staring ahead as their destination came into view.
What lay before them wasn’t just a ladder—it was an awe-inspiring structure, carved from ancient, dark stone that seemed to shimmer faintly in the light as if it held some latent magic. It was massive, towering over the surrounding landscape, and its architecture spoke of an age long past.
The outer structure resembled a sprawling citadel built into the side of a sheer cliff. Massive statues encircled the structure, each one carved with intricate detail. There were dragon gods, their wings spread wide as if they were shielding the sanctum, their expressions regal and fierce. Between them stood colossal robed men and women, their faces serene, hands clasped in silent prayer. Each statue’s surface was weathered with time, vines curling upward like veins of nature reclaiming the ancient stone.
At the heart of the structure, hidden behind layers of towering arches and colonnades, was Gabriel’s Ladder. Not a simple ladder as the name suggested, but an ivory spiral of light and energy, barely visible from the ship. It shimmered faintly, almost like a mirage, and seemed to hum with a divine resonance.
Yuuna, perched on the ship’s railing, was the first to spot it. Her golden eyes widened, and a grin broke across her face as she pointed, nearly tipping over the edge. “There it is! There it is!” she shouted, her voice brimming with excitement. She leapt down onto the deck, rushing toward Xyenn and grabbing his arm.
She practically hung off him, shaking him. “Do you see it?! That’s it, right? That’s where I’m gonna get my memories back!” Her excitement was contagious, though Xyenn tried to keep his composure.
“Yes, I see it,” Xyenn said, his voice calm but with a small smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t have to shake me like a lunatic!”
Yuuna elbowed him in the ribs, still grinning. “I’ll shake you all I want if you don’t hurry up! Come on, this is huge! We’re finally here, dragon boy!”
Xyenn rolled his eyes but let out a small laugh. “Alright, alright. Just calm down before you accidentally throw yourself overboard. Please. I can’t swim.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t either. We're definitely soulmates then, that’s why I really want my memories of you back, apparently I lost them.”
“And I promised I’d get them back. And I will.”
“You’re so determined, aren’t you?”
“That’s because…” Xyenn blushed.
‘Man up! You’re a man, Xyenn!’
Xyenn gulped, “I—.”
Mertha charged in, saying, “Xyenn loves you so much and you two have a child together, and—.”
Xyenn covered Mertha’s mouth, exclaiming with a flustered face, “I WAS ABOUT TO SAY THAT.”
As the ship drew closer to the cliffs, Sethrak leaned against the mast with a smug grin on his face. “You know,” he began, his tone dripping with condescension, “it’s a miracle we made it here at all, considering our fearless leader can’t even read an enchanted map without needing his nervous little assistant.”
Xyenn’s head snapped toward him, his eye twitching. “What did you just say?”
Sethrak’s smirk widened. “Oh, I just meant it must’ve been so hard for you, struggling with a piece of paper. Truly, your greatest battle yet.”
Xyenn growled and took a step forward, his fists clenched, but before he could charge, Kivorn and Draeven quickly stepped in front of him.
“Whoa, whoa…Easy there, guy,” Kivorn said, lazily holding up a finger to stop him. “He’s not worth the effort….”
Draeven, meanwhile, was flailing his arms frantically. “P-please don’t! You’ll break the ship, and I don’t think Haldrek would appreciate that!”
Sethrak chuckled, crossing his arms. “See? Even they know you can’t handle me.”
Xyenn glared over their shoulders, his voice low. “You’re lucky they’re holding me back.”
As the ship docked near the cliffs, Zyphira tossed the last of her mead overboard with a dramatic sigh. She squinted up at the towering statues surrounding the structure, her head tilting as she tried to make sense of them.
“Alright,” she said, pointing with a lazy wave of her hand. “Can someone tell me who the hell these are supposed to be? They all look the same to me. Dragons, humans, robes—whatever. They could be random farmers for all I know.”
Illyana, ever tranquil, stepped beside her and gazed up at the statues with a soft, thoughtful smile. “No, not farmers. That one there—” she pointed to a particularly striking statue of a robed woman, her hands outstretched as if she were offering something to the heavens, “—is Kyunkun, the primordial Dragon of Mercy. She’s said to have tended to the wounded during the Dragon Wars, even healing her enemies. They say her wings glowed with light so bright it could blind armies. That war when the dragons betrayed Gabriel, the First Dragon.”
Zyphira blinked, then shrugged. “Huh. Neat, I guess. Still looks like a farmer to me.”
Kivorn, standing nearby with his usual tired expression, chimed in. “The statues represent the Dragon Gods and their mortal followers. Each dragon had a purpose—mercy, strength, wisdom, chaos, and balance. Kyunkun was the merciful one, yes, but that one—” he pointed to a towering dragon statue with jagged, flame-like wings, “—is Xaroth, the primordial Dragon of Chaos. He’s the one who was one of the generals in leading the rebellious dragons against the First Dragon.”
Zyphira raised an eyebrow. “So... nice dragons and not-so-nice dragons. Got it.”
Kivorn sighed. “There’s more to it than that, but I’m too tired to explain.”
Xyenn asked, “So the First Dragon was betrayed by the Primordials…”
‘From what I heard from the Light Born, those Lysfødt, Hell has something to do with all of that. What’s their role? Did the Primordials betray Gabriel the First Dragon because he took in Yuuna? A literal being of darkness from hell? Was it because of fear? The First Dragon wanted Yuuna’s dark nature to balance the world, it’s gotta be deeper than that right?’
As the group disembarked, Xyenn hung back for a moment, letting the others take in the majesty of the structure. He stared up at the colossal statues and the faint glow of Gabriel’s Ladder in the distance, a rare grin spreading across his face.
One step closer, he thought. One step closer to getting her memories back.
Yuuna, still buzzing with excitement, leaned against his side, resting her head on his shoulder. “Your heart is pounding,” she said softly, her voice teasing but warm.
Xyenn stiffened, glancing down at her with a faint blush. “I... it’s just the excitement,” he muttered.
Yuuna smirked, her breaths soft against his back as she leaned in closer. “Sure it is. And hey, I have a question.”
“Hm? What is it?”
“Do you love me?” She asked quietly.
Xyenn froze. Why was she asking this? Is she feeling something deep? Is she maybe getting dejavu? Maybe to confirm she wasn’t going crazy? Even though she lost her memories of him, maybe she was trying to figure something out.
Xyenn said, “I do.”
And he meant it.
Yuuna didn’t say anything to that, she just looked ahead.
‘He loves me…’
As they approached the structure, the Tyrants were greeted by the sight of dozens of adventurers and guilds gathered in front of the golden gates that marked the entrance to Gabriel’s Ladder. The gates were massive, covered in intricate carvings of dragons and celestial patterns, but they were sealed shut.
The adventurers were a diverse crowd. Some wore gleaming plate armor, etched with runes that glowed faintly in the light. Others were clad in flowing robes, their staffs adorned with glowing crystals. There were beastfolk with thick fur and sharp claws, dwarves with massive warhammers, and even a few tieflings with horns curling back over their heads. One particularly striking mage wore a long, dark cloak that seemed to shift like smoke, his staff topped with a pulsating orb.
They were all arguing, their voices overlapping as they debated how to open the gates.
Kivorn glanced around the crowd, his half-lidded eyes showing a rare glimmer of curiosity. “Huh. Didn’t expect this many people.”
Sethrak, standing beside him, raised an eyebrow. “Neither did I. Gabriel’s Ladder is supposed to be nearly impossible to find. How did all these idiots manage to stumble across it?”
Kivorn shrugged. “Luck? Or maybe they’ve been here for weeks. Either way, it’s going to get crowded.”
Xyenn said, “What the hell…there’s so many people!”
Illyana added, “It’s strange actually..”
King Haldrek’s soldiers were shocked at what they saw, but more so of the structure and actually being this close to the place that held Gabriel’s Laddr.
“It’s so beautiful..”
“This beats being back at the palace..”
“I can second that.”
“It’s like a dream, my family wanted to come here for so long. Wanted to be this close to Gabriel's Ladder.”
At the center of the chaos was a towering man clad in obsidian armor, his helmet shaped like the snarling head of a dragon, complete with jagged horns and glowing red eyes. His voice boomed across the crowd as he barked orders to his guild. His name was Gunthr.
“Come on, you lot!” he shouted, gesturing toward the gates. “Doesn’t anyone here have a brain? We need this riddle solved! Now!”
His guild, a group of six warriors and mages clad in matching crimson and black armor, stood at attention, though they looked equally frustrated.
Yuuna grabbed Xyenn’s hand, pulling him toward the crowd. “Come on!” she said, her golden eyes gleaming with determination.
Xyenn, caught off guard, stumbled slightly. “What are you doing?”
Yuuna turned back with a wide grin, raising her free hand and waving. “We can!” she called out, her voice cutting through the noise.
The crowd turned to look at them, and Xyenn felt his face flush as Yuuna’s grip tightened on his hand.
Gunthr pointed at them, booming, “Open those doors! We need an entrance inside—!”
Gorran stepped up, pointing his Xenith blade at Gunthr, saying, “Watch your tone. Let them open it.”