CHAPTER 42 – END THIS HELL

HIRAYA MISTELTEIN

The air grew heavy with silence broken only by my choked whispers, "This can't be real."

Before my eyes, Tasty Town had become an eerie canvas of desolation. The familiar landmarks I'd known—the school where students once laughed, the bustling restaurants that filled the air with delightful aromas, and the lively town square—all erased. In their place was an unsettling void. No remnants, no echoes, just an abyss that stretched out, swallowing everything in its wake.

“Aaaaaaargh!” A gut-wrenching scream tore through the eerie stillness.

Alris crumpled, his knees giving way beneath him, the weight of his actions evident in his drained expression. His fingers quivered as they grazed the spot on his chest where the ominous blue sun once pulsed.

"What... What have I done?" His voice wavered, laced with raw anguish.

My vision blurred, obscured by the sting of tears that betrayed my inner turmoil. Turning, I caught sight of Lysander, his usually composed demeanor shattered. He was a portrait of disbelief, kneeling amidst the ruin with eyes widened in horror, every muscle in his body tense. His whispered words, choked with grief, cut through the heavy air, "All those promises, all those dreams... shattered in an instant. My family—Mom, Dad, Luna—they were supposed to have more time. Five years… It was supposed to be five more years!"

Lysander, usually the voice of caution among us, had once whispered ominous prophecies about Tasty Town's end. But his foreboding predictions had always pointed to a distant future, five years away. The abrupt and inexplicable speed-up of this tragedy left us grappling with a chilling uncertainty, questioning the very foundations of our fates.

A suffocating blanket of grief enveloped us as Tasty Town's devastation unfurled like a nightmarish tapestry. Every hard-fought battle, every triumph against the shadowy forces of Neo Arcadia, every life we had valiantly rescued—the students, the dedicated teachers, the noble dragonoids—all now felt like fragile memories against this overwhelming void.

My heart wrenched with the urge to console Lysander, yet my attention was cruelly diverted by the unsettling presence of Gazelle Lockwood. Her lips curled into a sinister smile, a mockery of triumph.

"This scene," Gazelle mused, her voice dripping with a chilling nostalgia, "echoes the memories of my childhood—The Crimson Dragonfly Incident. I recall Sister Airi orchestrating a similar spectacle. It feels... oddly reminiscent."

Meanwhile, Johnny and Maggie hovered nearby, their faces a tumultuous storm of bewilderment, fury, and dread. Gazelle, attuned to their tumultuous emotions, bellowed with mocking laughter, stretching his arms wide in a mocking embrace of the havoc he'd unleashed.

"Fret not. All will become clear in due time," Gazelle intoned, his voice eerily steady amidst the chaos.

As Gazelle closed in on Alris, now a shadow of his former self, reverted to his vulnerable human guise, a primal surge of protective urgency surged within me. My fingers instinctively closed around the grip of my pistol, ready to defend Alris at all costs.

Yet, in an instant, Johnny materialized before me, his razor-sharp claws poised menacingly, mere inches from my throat. His eyes blazed with a ferocious intensity, and his voice dripped with venom as he spat out his chilling threat, "Make a move, and you'll regret it, you elven wretch!"

"No, Johnny. Stand down," Gazelle's voice sliced through the tension, arresting Johnny's aggressive lunge. "Hiraya is more pivotal than you realize. She's our Oracle, destined to guide us through the impending war. We must exercise patience."

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Johnny's displeasure was evident as he scoffed, swiping my pistol from its holster and flinging it away, out of my grasp.

Gazelle's intense gaze never wavered as he slowly peeled off his gloves, revealing a distinct V-mark etched into his palm. "Hiraya Misteltein," he began, his voice dripping with conviction, "I'll return to unveil our true purpose as the chosen saviors— the Dragon Lords of this realm. Once you've unlocked the Mark of Vesryn, seek me out, and then we'll converse. Unless, of course, you wish for your homeland to suffer the same fate as this decimated town."

Confusion muddled my thoughts, leaving me stuttering, "What do you mean?" Gazelle's cryptic proclamation echoing ominously in the unsettling stillness.

Gazelle's focus honed in on Alris, who knelt, seemingly vulnerable. The V-Mark on Gazelle's palm emanated a disconcerting crimson luminescence, amplifying the gravity of his words until they seemed to reverberate through the very ground beneath us.

"Alris Vortigern," Gazelle intoned, the power of his V-shaped rune, imbuing his words with a dark authority, "With the power of my Dragon Lord Commandment, I ask you, to eliminate that meddling human sage."

Tears of resistance welled in Alris's eyes as he clenched his fists, covering his ears in a desperate attempt to drown out the malevolent directive. "Never! I won't betray an ally! Lysander is not my enemy!"

Unyielding, Gazelle lowered himself, his hand finding its way to Alris's shoulder in a seemingly tender gesture. Yet, the weight of that touch compelled Alris to lock eyes with the ominous Eye of Deus, Gazelle's signature eyes. With that intense gaze holding him captive, Gazelle issued yet another foreboding command.

"Once more, under my Dragon Lord authority, I order you... end Lysander Faradeiss. End the Regressor." A crimson aura flared from Alris's eyes, steadying his previously trembling form. With a chilling transformation, he ascended, morphing into his Partial Dragon Form. However, the once-regal appearance was now tainted with a malevolent edge, characterized by sinister wings and menacing horns.

"Your wish is my command, Milord." Alris intoned, his voice a hollow echo of its former vibrancy.

"Alris, stop!" My voice cracked with anguish, my arms outstretched in a futile attempt to reach him. Yet, Johnny's menacing claws intercepted, denying me any further advance.

"Excellent," Gazelle announced, his form expanding and contorting into an immense Alientech Dragon. Casting a disdainful glance over his transformed shoulder, he addressed his followers, Johnny and Maggie, with chilling authority. "Move out, lovebirds. We got more cities to burn.”

Johnny and Maggie wasted no time, mounting the colossal Alientech Dragon's head. In an instant, with a powerful beat of its wings, the creature soared into the heavens, vanishing from sight as if swallowed by the very darkness it wrought.

The desolate aftermath revealed only Alris, Lysander, and me, standing in haunting proximity to the gaping abyss that marked the town's tragic end. Breaking the stifling silence, Alris retrieved his buster sword, its metallic scrape against the ground echoing ominously. With deliberate steps, he advanced toward the still-dazed Lysander.

"Alris! Snap out of it!" My pleas echoed, but he seemed ensnared in a trance. The grating sound of the sword trailing behind him intensified the tension, contrasting sharply with Lysander's vacant expression—a stark testament to Gazelle's malevolent power.

Lysander's voice, tinged with weariness that belied years of relentless conflict, shattered the silence. "End it. End me. After a decade of endless battles and anguish, grant me the mercy of a swift conclusion." His words hung heavy, encapsulating the profound depths of his despair.

"What madness has taken hold of you, Lysander? Flee!" My voice cracked with desperation, a plea echoing through the heavy silence.

Alris's buster sword ignited with a chilling blue flame, poised for a devastating strike. With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I lunged forward, each step a desperate race against impending doom. Midway, my gaze locked onto the pistol Johnny had callously discarded earlier. A brief detour led me to its resting place, my fingers closing around its familiar grip as urgency surged within me.

"All is lost," Lysander's voice resonated, a haunting lament thick with despair. "My attempts to alter fate only hastened our ruin. Tasty Town, my family, my friends, and even Johnny—they're all lost to me. I have nothing left to fight for."

As I leveled the pistol, aimed at Lysander, its tip illuminated by a pulsating bluish-green magical circle, signifying the charged Nova Arrow within.

Lysander's gaze remained fixed on the impending menace of Alris's fiery blade. His voice, a mere whisper yet laden with anguish, implored, "End this hell."

In that heart-wrenching moment, with time suspended and choices weighed, I made my decision. The deafening roar of a gunshot shattered the oppressive stillness, forever altering the course of our intertwined destinies.