Lola gripped her whip so tightly her knuckles turned white, the leather creaking under the strain of her hold. Her eyes never left Josh, fierce and unblinking—like a lioness watching her cubs face down a storm.
She stood poised, every muscle taut with readiness, like a mother ready to charge headfirst into death itself for her child.
A gust of wind brushed against her cheek, but she didn't flinch.
"Josh…" she whispered under her breath, the sound lost in the roaring of the flames ahead.
Then—Conrad Stan stepped in, silently placing a firm hand on her shoulder. It wasn't just to comfort her, though comfort might have been his intent. It was a subtle restraint. A quiet message: Don't. You'll only make it worse.
She turned slightly to look at him, her eyes wild with worry.
"We both know the truth, Lola," Conrad said, his voice low but steady. "If Josh can't handle this… no one here can. The Scarlet Raven is in a league of his own. Just like the Manticore King was."
Lola looked back at the duel, her chest rising and falling rapidly. But she said nothing.
---
The battle raged on.
And Josh Aratat… was beginning to shine.
His movements grew sharper, more fluid. His spins were precise, every turn a graceful pivot of deadly intent. The Kingly Staff moved with him like an extension of his will. There was elegance in his violence—a controlled fury that struck with regal command.
Crack!
He slammed the staff against Uriel's leg.
Thwack!
The shoulder.
Then the back.
Then—
Thud! Thud!
Two quick strikes to the head.
And then one final, ringing smash—
Crack!
—right across the face.
Gasps echoed across the battlefield.
"Oh no…" Conrad whispered.
"Not the face…" Lola murmured.
Uriel Commes froze.
For a heartbeat, all was still.
And then—rage.
Pure, unfiltered, god-like rage erupted from the Scarlet Raven's body like a volcanic blast. His wings spread wide, fire flaring at the tips. His eyes glowed like molten rubies, locked onto Josh with seething hatred.
"You dare… touch my face?"
The air twisted violently. The heat surged so high the sand beneath their feet began to glass. Uriel roared and lunged, faster than lightning, fiercer than a comet.
Josh tried to dodge—his awareness skill kicked in, but the speed was too immense, too sudden.
A brutal impact followed. The kingly aura trembled... fractured...
And then—
SHATTER!
The I Am King Protocol broke.
Uriel Commes became really mad when the kingly staff smashed across his face. He intensified his attack and like a balloon reaching its bursting end, the 'i am king protocol was broken.
The shimmering shield protecting Josh crumbled like glass under divine pressure. A clawed hand, wreathed in fire, smashed into his chest. The sound was sickening—a crunch, a gasp, and then silence.
Josh flew.
Like a lifeless doll hurled by the gods themselves, his body was flung across the battlefield, bouncing once, twice, before skidding to a stop, motionless in the dust.
Lola screamed.
The entire army froze.
And the Scarlet Raven… stood tall again.
Charred, bruised… but smiling.
With blood on his talons.
Josh Aratat lay eerily still, his body sprawled across the cracked earth, smoke curling from his singed clothes. No one could tell whether he was unconscious… or gone.
Gasps rippled through the army like a shockwave, a single heartbeat away from panic.
Ralia Amia clutched her necklace—no emblem, no markings, just a trinket from childhood—as she whispered desperate prayers to a god she didn't know, to a deity whose name she couldn't even spell. Her lips trembled, her eyes wide with horror. "Please… please…"
Lola's breath caught in her throat. Her fingers twitched over the hilt of her whip, the tension in her shoulders screaming for release. Her eyes burned with helpless fury.
I'll kill him... even if it's the last thing I do...
But as she took a single step forward, a firm hand grabbed her wrist.
"Don't," Conrad Stan said, voice low but laced with steel. "You'll just die. That's not what he'd want."
She looked into Conrad's eyes, and though her body was trembling, her lips quivered as she held herself back, just barely.
Meanwhile, the other generals stood frozen, blades unsheathed but unmoving. Warriors who had once charged into hopeless wars were now praying for a miracle. All eyes were on their fallen king.
Josh Aratat—the unshakeable, the unbroken, the Black Dragon of legend—now looked no more than a battered corpse.
But the Scarlet Raven didn't care for legend.
With a snarl that echoed like thunder, Uriel Commes surged forward, eyes aflame. No hesitation. No mercy.
He raised his fist—coated in fire so intense the ground blackened beneath his feet—and brought it down.
BOOM!
The first strike landed like a meteor.
BOOM!
The second blow drove Josh deeper into the dirt, as if trying to hammer him straight through the earth's crust.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Each punch rang with fiery violence, the ground trembling with every impact. Ash spiraled into the air. Flames burst in every direction. The sheer heat drove even the bravest soldiers to stagger back.
It was no longer a fight. It was desecration. It was demolition. It was destruction.
Josh's body jerked with each blow—unmoving, defenseless. Flesh blistered. Armor cracked. Dust rose in thick clouds, choking the air, hiding the gruesome scene from full view.
"Stop it!" Lola screamed, her voice hoarse and breaking under the weight of helpless fury. "He's not even fighting back!" Her chest heaved, heart thundering like a war drum on the verge of collapse. Every blow she watched felt like it struck her soul instead—as if a thousand knives were tearing through her ribs from the inside. She clutched her whip tighter, knuckles white, legs trembling. One more second, and she swore her heart might shatter.
But the Scarlet Raven didn't stop. His eyes were wild, consumed by bloodlust.
"WHERE'S YOUR PRIDE NOW, BLACK DRAGON? WHERE'S YOUR KINGLINESS?" he bellowed with every strike, his voice a fusion of rage and fire. "YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD TOUCH ME?!"
He raised both fists, flames swirling into a spiraling vortex of heat that pulsed like a miniature sun above his head. He was preparing the final blow—one meant to erase Josh Aratat from existence entirely.
The army held its breath.
Conrad's eyes narrowed.
And somewhere beneath the ground…
A faint pulse flickered.
Not from flame. Not from blood.
But from will.