Chapter 77 - The Battle against Destiny (4)

The air turned cold and heavy again—

a dampened silence gripped the battlefield

for just a moment... before it shattered.

A guttural roar split the skies as the dragon surged upward, its massive wings tearing through clouds like parchment. From its chest, the

blood-red orb pulsed

violently—no longer dormant, but thrumming with twisted life. The beast’s body, scorched and bleeding, now shimmered with crimson veins of corrupted mana. Its eyes glowed like burning coals.

And it wasn’t done.

The dragon shrieked—louder than before, filled with rage—and

dove straight into the fray

, maw glowing with heat, claws lashing, tail smashing anything within reach.

Kyle’s eyes widened as he stared at the orb embedded in its chest. "That’s... that’s the Blood Crystal," he muttered in disbelief, horror dawning in his voice. "No wonder it’s not dead yet."

Before anyone could respond, a powerful voice boomed across the battlefield, raw with fury and disbelief.

"Damn it, the beast is still alive—everyone, attack again!"

Sparks and smoke filled the sky once more as renewed chaos spread through the ranks. Just then, a soft presence moved beside them—

Aria

, face pale, her hands clasped in prayer. "May the Goddess grant us strength," she whispered, eyes shimmering with desperation as the divine light flickered around her.

But her prayer was nearly drowned out by the next wave of destruction.

The dragon let loose a barrage of attacks—

pillars of flame

,

ice shards the size of trees

, and

howling bolts of lightning

that arced across the sky. Each strike was indiscriminate. Soldiers screamed. Towers collapsed.

Dozens were wiped out in mere seconds

.

Watching the devastation unfold, Aiden’s jaw clenched. He turned toward the others—Selena, Kyle, Lilliane, Luca, Eric—all braced, all exhausted, all watching the skies. "There’s no point holding back anymore," he said firmly. "We’ve done what we could for the injured... Now, we fight."

No hesitation.

Nods met his words. One by one, they soared into the sky—

their weapons drawn, mana flaring

, expressions hardened by purpose. The frontlines awaited... and so did the wrath of the beast.

The battle had begun again.

Luca soared through the smoky sky, riding the Dream Butterfly with Eric close behind. The wind lashed against his face, but it was the chaos below that made his chest clench.

Shit, shit, shit—what can we even do now?,

he thought, panic clawing at his insides.

Could I use Moonslasher again? But would that even be enough...?

He gritted his teeth. No—this wasn’t the time to hesitate.

I should go and meet with the professor first, yeah.

"We’re going to Professor Seraphina," he said aloud.

Eric nodded without question, and the Dream Butterfly veered, weaving through explosions and fire. Below them, the earth was a graveyard of smoldering corpses and shattered hopes.

They reached the cliff where the mages had regrouped—what remained of them.

Professor Seraphina stood among a battered circle of spellcasters, speaking with a silver-haired mage woman. All around them, the mages looked drained, trembling, their faces pale, mana nearly depleted.

"Professor," Luca called out, landing roughly, "is everyone alright?"

Seraphina turned to him, her face taut with exhaustion. "I don’t know how much longer we can hold on," she admitted, her voice low, barely masking her fatigue.

The silver-haired woman beside her added with a grim tone, "We were just discussing this... If the situation deteriorates any further, we will prioritize escorting you and Selena out of here."

Luca’s breath caught.

His heart thudded violently.

"

No—NO!

" he shouted. "Please... there are too many lives at stake here. I’m begging you... give me one more chance. Can we do the attack just one more time?"

The silver-haired mage looked at him, surprised by the raw desperation in his voice. Her expression softened slightly, but her words remained firm. "We’ll prepare the attack. But the moment things go south... we

will

extract you and Selena. That’s non-negotiable."

Luca nodded shakily, not in agreement, but because that was all he could do.

He and Eric took flight again, the butterfly wings trailing mana as they rose toward the skies. But as they neared the frontlines, Luca’s heart grew heavier.

The battlefield below was a hellscape.

Burnt and broken bodies lay everywhere.

Some had been ripped apart. Some were missing limbs. Blood pooled on the earth like a crimson sea.

Screams of agony echoed—soldiers crying for medics, others crawling, sobbing, calling out names of comrades who would never answer.

One man clutched his severed arm, whispering prayers through bloody lips. A woman, half-crushed beneath rubble, cried silently as her life slipped away.

Luca’s eyes darted around in horror—his mind blank, frozen in despair.

And then—

Aurelia.

She was drenched in blood, cuts lining her face and arms, but her stance remained unbroken. Her Kirin reared and screamed, and she surged forward, her spear glowing fiercely as she struck at the dragon’s side with a desperate cry.

But—

A surge of energy lit the dragon’s mouth.

It turned toward her.

Time seemed to slow as the beast gathered its breath, glowing with a lethal hue. One more blast, and—

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

Luca screamed.

And then—

Everything stopped.

Literally.

The wind halted. Screams fell silent. Flames froze mid-air. Debris hung motionless in the sky.

Even the dragon—its jaws open, the spell nearly unleashed—was suspended like a statue in time.

Luca floated in eerie stillness, his breath ragged, eyes wide. His heartbeat echoed in the silence like thunder.

At that moment, his eyelids fell shut.

And when he opened them—

The world had changed.

There stood the demonic dragon, not rampaging, not twisted in bloodlust, but regal—worn, wounded, yet still majestic. Its once-gleaming obsidian scales were dulled, some cracked and flaking like brittle armor. The massive wings, once capable of blotting out the sun, hung limply at its sides. But what caught Luca’s breath was the wound.

A jagged, festering gash lay in the center of its broad chest, glowing faintly with sickly purple light. The flesh around it had rotted, the veins pulsing with corrupted mana. Not even time had dulled its pain. This wasn’t a wound of the body—it was a wound of the soul. An ancient curse. The kind that no healing spell, no divine intervention, no wish upon the stars could ever undo.

Yet still... The dragon lived.

Its breaths were shallow, raspy, rattling like the final notes of a dying hymn. But it stood tall.

And before it...

A lone man.

He wasn’t armored. He wasn’t cloaked in holy light or arcane flames. He wore only a battle-worn coat, torn at the edges and heavy with age. His dark hair was tousled by the wind. His back, though straight, carried the weight of decades—of wars fought, of choices made.

But it was his eyes.

Even from a distance, Luca could feel them.

Eyes full of sorrow, deeper than time. Eyes that had seen empires rise and fall. Eyes that had wept for every monster slain that didn’t deserve to die.

The man’s hand rested gently on the dragon’s snout. He stroked it like one would a dying friend.

"You’re still holding on, old friend..." he whispered, voice cracking with pain. "Why must you always carry everything alone?"

The dragon let out a low rumble, closing its eyes under his touch. The sound was not feral—it was mournful.

The man stepped closer, pressing his forehead to the beast’s.

"I told you... that day on the black cliff, remember? That if you followed me, this world would never understand you."

A pause. The wind stilled, as if even nature held its breath.

"...But you followed anyway."

Luca’s heart pounded. His hands trembled. This wasn’t just a memory. It’s another Vision again , but what time is this?

The dragon exhaled a puff of black smoke tinged with silver sparks. Its breath brushed over the man’s coat, but he didn’t flinch.

"And who is that man?" he whispered.