In the dark sky, lightning flashed across its expanse. Thunder roared ferociously, and rain poured heavily. On the ground, the bodies of dead warriors in various colored robes and armor lay scattered, painted red from the blood oozing from their wounds.
The place was a battlefield. Amidst the carnage, three beings stood isolated from their fallen companions. One of them was a wyvern on the verge of death. His body was deeply slashed from neck to tail. He was barely breathing, and blood flowed profusely from the massive wound.
The wyvern was a medium-sized draconian with wings and arms fused together. His scales shimmered in shades of indigo and blue. A long crest of keratin ran from his head down to his tail. This wyvern belonged to a race known as the Dragone.
Beside the wyvern stood a young man, dressed in a tattered purple robe, soaked in rain and blood. His brown hair clung to his face, weighed down by the downpour. His expression was somber, sorrowful, and tearful.
"Tony... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have summoned you," the young man sobbed. "Sniff... sniff..."
"It's not your fault, Iode," the Dragone replied. "I've lived quite a long life. It's about time I go anyway."
Iode, the young man, cried even harder.
"Take this as a farewell gift from me to you," Tony said weakly. He raised a blood-covered finger, a single drop hanging from it.
"Oh, Tony... you can't die yet. I can heal you! I'm a healer—to some extent. I can bring you back from the brink!" Iode said with a flicker of hope.
"Boy, we're in a battlefield. The enemy is patiently watching this little drama. Don't make them wait longer. Drink it—I don't have much time left," Tony urged.
With great bitterness and trembling lips, Iode leaned forward and sipped the drop of blood from Tony's finger.
"I'm giving you my powers as a parting gift. Tell Igor... I missed him," Tony whispered, and with that, he drew his final breath and died.
Iode's eyes widened in horror. His heart filled with grief and rage. He wailed, clutching Tony's lifeless body.
"Quite the show. I believe I've given you enough time to mourn. Realistically, I shouldn't have allowed you any time to speak at all. Whatever you had to say, it's over," said a woman clad in heavy red armor. She held a flaming red lance that shimmered with deadly light and walked slowly toward Iode.
"You monster!" Iode cried, his voice full of despair. "Why are you doing this? So many people have died because of you! We did nothing to deserve this war. You're the personification of evil!"
"That's rich, coming from someone reeking of demonic energy," the woman replied, approaching him. She grabbed his robe and lifted him effortlessly with one hand.
"Listen, young wizard. The Magical Nation is fractured. We bear the name of a nation to maintain an illusion of unity, but in truth, each tribe is independent—rife with hostility. I, Queen Bathsheba, have taken it upon myself to unite all tribes into one nation. A true unity, free of borders, interdependent."
"You started a war for that?! You're evil... a demon in the making!" Iode spat, tears still falling.
"That's enough talk. Someone tainted with demonic energy shouldn't be allowed to live. It's a good thing I found you here," Queen Bathsheba said coldly.
She raised her lance, ready to impale Iode through the chest. But Iode wasn't finished yet.
From the stigma on his left wrist, a purple light flashed, and a plain metal sword appeared in his hand. He blocked the lance's trajectory, yanked his body free from her grip, somersaulted backward, and assumed a battle stance.
"A wizard wielding a sword? That's new. Is that what you got from your devil's bargain?" Queen Bathsheba taunted.
Iode didn't answer. He channeled mana and celestial energy into his sword. The weapon glowed brilliantly, surrounded by swirling purple aura like viscous liquid.
He lunged at her with explosive speed. Though consumed by rage and a thirst for vengeance, his swordsmanship was both aggressive and fluid.
Queen Bathsheba was impressed. Amused, even. She decided to humor him a bit longer, crossing her lance with his sword.
"My, my... what a specimen you are. You'd make an ideal mate—if you weren't tainted by that devilish energy," she teased, dodging his stab.
She parried his blow. Despite his fury, Iode was outmatched. Both were magic swordsmen, but while the Queen's strength lay in her martial prowess and efficient use of celestial and mana energy, Iode was still raw—more magical than martial, more passionate than practiced.
His strikes became reckless. Desperate. His mana was nearly depleted, and he hadn't yet mastered celestial energy in combat. Even in swordplay, he had yet to fully grasp celestial integration.
The Queen noticed and smirked. She casually parried a wild swing, then kicked Iode in the stomach, imbuing the strike with celestial energy.
"Gah!" Iode gasped as he was flung across the field. Pain tore through him. He tried to rise—but the Queen was upon him. She kicked him in the face, sent him sprawling again, then grabbed him and landed blow after brutal blow to his abdomen, chest, and face before tossing him aside.
Bloodied and broken, Iode still tried to rise. His sword had been knocked away during the assault—but that didn't matter. Through the emblem of Valier on his stigma, he telepathically recalled his sword, directing it toward the Queen, hoping to impale her from behind.
But Queen Bathsheba was a veteran. She caught the sword effortlessly and, in a blink, blurred forward.
Before Iode could react, she drove the sword through his stomach.
"Playtime is over," she said, raising him off the ground.
Iode smiled wryly, blood dripping from his mouth.
"I guess I have no other choice. I can't beat you... not in a million years. But I can still kill you," he muttered.
"You've lost your mind, wizard. Death has made you hysterical," she sneered.
But something changed.
Red fumes began to seep from Iode's body. His blood began to evaporate. His frame shriveled and wrinkled like an old man. His hair turned from brown to white.
Queen Bathsheba's eyes widened. "Warrior's Fury?" she said in disbelief.
"Queen Bathsheba of the Valkyrie tribe... for Prof. Pandavatton, for Tony, and for every one of my people you've murdered... take this gift. A one-way ticket to the underworld!" Iode shouted with a hollow, decaying face.
"BOMBARDIER EXPLOSION!!!"
KABOOOOOM!!!
A massive explosion erupted, creating a mushroom cloud that pierced the rain-filled sky. Shockwaves rippled through the air, shaking the earth for miles...
---
*GASP!
Iode's eyes shot open.
He found himself on a bed, strange hoses inserted into his arms and chest. A breathing mask was strapped to his face, connected to a machine that beeped steadily beside him.
"Ugh... where am I?" he groaned.
"Ah! He's awake!" Reggie shouted in exhilaration...