The world was madness.
The heat from the fires gnawed at Leon's skin, the stench of blood, smoke, and scorched stone thick enough to choke on. He could barely hear his own thoughts over the roar of battle, the cries of the dying, and the bone-rattling bellows of the dragon overhead.
His katana hummed in his grip — a low, restless pulse of crimson light — but he knew, even with all the Reinforcement Magic he could muster, he wasn't ready for this. Not for what was happening in front of him.
Velis and Sylva.
Monsters.
Gods.
Or something far worse.
They moved together, two shadows dancing in perfect, wordless unity.
Ravon, standing tall atop the dragon's back, thrust a hand forward and bellowed, "Release the chosen! Show them the blessed truth of our blood!"
From the wreckage behind him, figures emerged.
They looked human at first. Lean, cloaked warriors — some male, some female — but Leon's sharp eyes caught the wrongness immediately. Eyes too sunken, limbs slightly too long, veins dark with something unnatural coursing beneath their skin.
Each one crackled with forbidden magic.
One raised his hand and the air distorted as a wave of searing force lashed out, carving a furrow through the battlefield.
Leon's heart pounded. Even from where he stood, he could feel it — the power of magic humans weren't meant to wield.
The enforcers moved, fast, closing in on Velis and Sylva.
And the two of them… didn't even flinch.
Velis's silver eyes gleamed under the blood moon, and the shadows around her surged like a living beast. Blades, tendrils, and spears of darkness erupted from the ground, intercepting every blast of magic, every arrow, every blow.
Sylva was a phantom between them, weaving through Velis's defenses like water. Her expression as cold as ever, daggers flashing, each movement precise and merciless.
Leon could only watch, half in awe, half in a sick sort of dread.
One enforcer hurled a crackling sphere of black flame at her — Sylva darted through Velis's shadows, slipping between slashes of shadowy blades, and before the flame could even reach her, Velis's darkness swallowed it whole.
Sylva was already behind the caster, her dagger finding the gap between the ribs. A clean, efficient kill.
Leon swallowed hard.
They were barely speaking.
No — they weren't speaking at all.
They just moved.
As if one mind drove them both.
A second enforcer leapt at Sylva, weapon raised, but Velis's tendrils caught him midair and twisted him apart like wet cloth. Another tried to cast — Sylva's dagger found his throat before the spell finished.
One after another, the elite fell.
Leon could do nothing but watch.
It was breathtaking. And terrifying.
And then the dragon moved.
A deafening roar shook the heavens, molten fire gathering at its throat.
Velis looked up and laughed.
Sylva didn't so much as blink.
The inferno burst forth, a torrent of flame so bright it turned night to day, swallowing Sylva's figure whole in a violent, world-ending blast.
"No!"
Leon's voice tore from his throat before he realized he'd spoken.
His heart dropped, his blood went cold, his legs locked in place.
It was an explosion like nothing he'd seen — the ground quaking, debris thrown skyward, heat blistering the skin of those even close to the periphery.
And then, from the thick, black smoke, a shadow moved.
A familiar one.
A rift of darkness, coiled like a living thing.
And from within it, Sylva stepped — untouched.
Not a burn on her. Not a single hair out of place. Those same cold, indifferent eyes fixed on the dragon.
Velis's voice chimed through the aftermath, her grin audible in her words.
"Wow, Sylva. You almost died."
A small, eerie giggle followed.
"Almost. Lucky me."
Sylva barely reacted, giving Velis a brief glance.
A single, wordless exchange.
And then they turned their gazes upward, toward Ravon and the beast, the last obstacles between them and silence.
Leon's hands clenched around his katana. His golden eyes narrowed.
He was terrified.
And in awe.
And something else he couldn't name.
But one thing was clear.
They weren't human.
Not anymore.
And neither, perhaps, was he.
* * * * *
Amidst the ruin of Cindralis, where firelight painted the city in shades of death, two figures stood alone against the storm.
Velis stretched her arms overhead with a casual yawn, the glint in her silver eyes catching the crimson gleam of the blood moon. Her dark hair clung to her face, streaked with soot and splattered blood, but her smile remained bright. Almost innocent.
"Not bad for a warm-up," Velis hummed, flexing her fingers as the shadows around her rippled in anticipation.
Sylva, standing silent beside her, wiped blood from one of her daggers, her cold gaze fixed on the writhing dragon overhead. She said nothing — as always — but there was a sharpness in the way her fingers tightened around the weapon.
Velis glanced sideways. "Hey, Sylva."
A brief glance met hers.
"Race you to the head."
Sylva's lips twitched in the barest hint of a smirk.
Then they moved.
The shadows coiled at their feet, rising like dark serpents and weaving together into platforms of solid gloom. In perfect sync, the two sprinted upward, darting through the sky on paths of living shadow, the blood moon painting them both as avatars of death.
The dragon, already enraged by its failure to incinerate Sylva moments ago, roared and twisted in the air. Its great wings buffeted the city, sending flames and debris scattering.
It opened its maw, a storm of black flame boiling in its throat.
Velis laughed.
"Aww, poor thing. Can't hit us, can you?"
The dragon's answer came in the form of a crackling blast of black thunder, spears of lightning lashing through the air, splitting towers and turning stone to molten slag.
But neither of them faltered.
Velis danced through the lightning like it was a child's game, her shadows deflecting the stray bolts. Sylva's movements were pure grace, twisting and leaping from one shadow path to another, untouchable.
For all its power, the beast could not touch them.
And then they struck.
Sylva reached the dragon first, her twin daggers flashing toward its thick scales — but the ancient hide was tougher than she'd anticipated. Both weapons snapped with a sharp, metallic crack.
The dragon turned, jaws lunging.
Velis was faster.
A coil of shadow speared through the air, piercing deep into the creature's left eye. The beast screeched, a deafening, grating wail that shook the stones below and split the clouds above.
Velis grinned, crimson mist catching in her hair.
"Aww, did that sting? Poor lizard." She tilted her head playfully. "Cry more."
Sylva landed beside her, expression unchanged, and without a word, the shadows around her rippled.
From the darkness, a new pair of daggers emerged — forged from pure shadow, their edges flickering like wraith fire.
Sylva gripped them without hesitation.
No command needed.
They moved as one.
Velis's shadows struck the dragon's wings, slicing tendon and muscle. Sylva dove for the throat, carving deep through its weakened scales. The two of them tore through its defenses, each blow precise, surgical, and devastating.
The beast faltered in the air, blood pouring from dozens of wounds. One wing hung useless, and half its face was a ruin of charred flesh and empty eye socket.
On the ground, Leon could barely breathe watching it.
They were… untouchable.
Untamed.
And inhuman.
The dragon let out one last shriek, its movements sluggish, the blood moon's light glinting off the rivers of black ichor pouring down its form.
Velis landed atop its snout, silver eyes gleaming.
"Lights out."
And with a final strike, she drove her hand deep into its remaining eye.
The dragon's body spasmed — then began its long, broken descent toward the earth.
The colossal corpse of the dragon crashed down upon the city of Cindralis with an earth-shaking impact, crushing stone, iron, and flesh beneath its ruinous bulk. The ground split, tremors racing outward as debris filled the air in choking clouds.
Velis and Sylva descended through the settling ash, landing lightly atop the fractured remains of a collapsed tower.
Velis brushed dust from her hair and smiled wide, her silver eyes locking on Ravon where he stood atop a blood-slick platform of shattered stone and bone.
"Looks like your pet's dead," Velis called, her voice bright, teasing, and cruel. "Guess you should've trained it better."
Sylva said nothing, her cold stare as sharp as the daggers in her hands.
But Ravon didn't scowl. Didn't rage.
He laughed.
A deep, broken, maniacal sound that sent chills down the spines of everyone who heard it. His tattered robe clung to his bloodstained form, and though his mask had cracked, the madness in his eyes shone brighter than any moon.
"You… fools…" he rasped between his ragged laughter. "You truly think this was all I had? That this city… this pitiful horde was the extent of my faith?"
The square fell eerily silent.
Even the monsters that remained seemed to freeze at his words.
"I planned for this!" Ravon shrieked. "I planned for you, and for the death of that beast! Every fallen man, every drop of blood shed tonight — all of it was a gift! A feast! You should've struck sooner… but you were too slow."
His eyes gleamed.
"And now… the price will be paid."
Leon stepped forward, golden eyes narrowed, his katana's crimson light flickering like a heartbeat. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Ravon's grin widened, split with madness.
"I thank you… thank you all. The higher the toll in blood, the stronger the vessel. You let it flow. You built this altar of death."
And before anyone could move, Ravon raised his blood-drenched hand — and drove a jagged dagger into his own chest, straight through his heart.
The sound of steel piercing flesh rang out. And then the chanting began.
Words older than any language known to the kingdoms echoed through the ruins.
The blood from the fallen, from the dragon's corpse, from the slain cultists and civilians alike — it began to move. Dark, viscous streams crawling across the ground, pulled together by unseen hands.
A wave of magic, suffocating and ancient, burst forth.
And from that crimson mire, a figure rose.
A man — no, not a man.
A demon.
He emerged from the gore, tall and regal, with flesh like pale stone marred by streaks of black. A long tail swayed behind him, and both arms shimmered with jagged scales. His hands ended in claws that glinted like obsidian. A single, sharp horn jutted from his brow.
His face… was Ravon's.
Only younger.
More perfect.
His hair was dark as midnight, his skin unblemished, and his eyes… deep aqua blue, like the heart of the ocean before a storm.
A voice, calm and cold, like death itself, spoke from his lips.
"Your time has ended."
The magical pressure hit like a tidal wave, slamming into everyone present.
Soldiers dropped to their knees. Adventurers paled, weapons trembling in their hands. Sweat broke out across every face. Even the Crimson Vow felt it — an ancient, suffocating weight, as though the air itself had thickened into lead.
Darius clenched his sword so tightly his knuckles whitened.
"Everyone…" his voice was hoarse, but steady. "All forces — full assault! No one stands idle. Kill it. Now."
Weapons were raised.
Velis smiled wider, her shadows swirling eagerly at her heels.
Sylva's grip tightened on her newly-forged daggers.
Leon's katana pulsed, a violent crimson light rising with his heart's pounding fury.
The demon turned its gaze upon them all.
And the battle for Cindralis was not over.
It had just begun.