Ashes drifted across the shattered battlefield like snow. The remnants of Zian's battle with the fallen angel still glowed faintly where divine blood had stained the earth. Students lay unconscious in clusters—unable to bear the weight of the celestial energy that had torn through the island.
Then, the roar came.
It wasn't just a sound—it was a memory, a prophecy, a scream from the world's ancient bones. Trees bent away. The sea recoiled. The clouds themselves twisted as the dragon descended from the sky like an omen.
It was massive—over a hundred meters long, cloaked in obsidian scales laced with crimson veins. Its wings were shredded flame, and its eyes burned with memories of god-slaying days. One of the Twelve Dragons, who had betrayed the god and helped tear the divine realm apart.
Kaen stood on the cliff's edge, expression unreadable. He didn't move. He didn't have to. This wasn't his fight.
Not yet.
Zian, battered and exhausted, turned her head. Her golden eyes widened as she recognized the aura. "No… not one of them... not here…"
Only one figure stepped forward.
Lirien.
Her white hair caught the wind like a banner of defiance, crimson eyes locked with the beast's burning gaze. Her armor was cracked, gauntlets bloodied, but her will blazed brighter than ever.
"You're the one who burned the gates of heaven," she muttered. "Let's see if you burn the same when I cut your heart out."
The dragon struck first. A column of flame erupted from its maw, incinerating the jungle. Lirien blurred through the inferno, her rapier slashing through the fire like it was air.
She struck its leg—a deep gash. The dragon howled and retaliated, tail sweeping toward her like a mountain in motion. She ducked, rolled, and countered with a barrage of jabs, targeting pressure points.
The battle raged.
Each blow from the dragon was a natural disaster. Each counter from Lirien, a lesson in discipline and death. She was fast, almost too fast to follow, a dancer in the storm—but not invincible.
After fifteen minutes of relentless combat, the dragon's tail finally struck her. A sickening crack echoed as she slammed into a stone outcropping. She fell, coughing blood, limbs trembling.
The dragon approached, slowly, deliberately—savoring the kill.
Kaen stepped forward, shadows coiling like serpents around him. He looked down at her broken form, then knelt beside her, voice calm but edged with something deeper.
"You fought well, Lirien. But you're dying."
She gave a bloody grin. "No kidding."
"You don't have to."
Her breath hitched. She looked up into his eyes. There was no pity. Only power. Immensity. Eternity.
"You're offering… a pact?"
"I am."
She hesitated—but only for a second. "Then take it. I'm yours."
His hand touched her chest. Shadows surged into her like breath into lungs. Her scream echoed through the mountains as their souls entwined.
The pact was made.
Lirien's body lifted, surrounded by flame and darkness. When her feet touched the ground again, she stood taller, her wounds gone. Her aura—terrifying.
She turned to the dragon with a smirk. "Round two."