The wind howled around Azeris, echoing his turmoil as he soared through the clouds above Blackthrone City, flames tracing behind him like the fading light of hope. Below him lay the city, a tangled web of stone and smoke, and he felt a heavy weight in his heart as he witnessed the hurried attempts of the defenders to protect their home. Their courage was commendable, but they stood little chance against the storm of emotions roiling within him. Each beat of his wings sent gusts through the streets, and he couldn't help but feel the sorrow for those whose lives were being upended.
He searched the city with his golden eyes, yearning for a glimpse of those he loved.
Hold on, Mother. Selena… I'm coming.
Drawing closer to the ground, he felt a fire igniting within his chest—not just from the flames he breathed, but from an overwhelming determination. He unleashed another torrent of fire upon the city walls, watching as the guards, brave yet bewildered, staggered back against the assault. But at the heart of it all, a single structure called to him—the spire of Blackthrone Castle, grim and towering, stood like a silent sentinel.
Then, his instincts cried out in warning.
A blur of motion surged beneath him. Wilburn vaulted from a rooftop, sword poised, his aura shimmering with the strength of a Foundation Establishment warrior. The blade sliced through the air, aimed not to kill, but to disable—a desperate act of defiance.
Azeris twisted in mid-air, just barely avoiding the strike as the metal grazed his scales, sending a shockwave of pain through him.
With a thunderous roar, he descended toward Wilburn, transforming mid-flight. Golden light enveloped him, condensing into the form of a man draped in emerald robes, his eyes now aglow with the light of deep resolve.
He landed heavily, the ground trembling beneath his feet. "You shouldn't have stood in my way," Azeris said, his voice firm yet laced with an unsettling sadness.
Wilburn steadied himself, unwavering despite the tremor in his grip. "Your path ends here, beast."
Azeris summoned a simple sword from his storage ring—a blade he had picked up in a modest town while journeying to Blackthrone City.
"Take a stand according to the Infinity Sword Art," he thought, drawing upon the training he had dedicated himself to.
He had mastered the first stage of the Infinity Sword Art, developing Sword Sense, a crucial awareness of the sword and a connection to its very essence.
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Sword Sense
Awareness of the sword and its presence.
Can perceive sword auras.
Instinctively feels "cutting paths" through air and motion.
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With a flash, Azeris drew his blade. The air crackled gently around them. "I don't seek to pass you. I only aim to stop you."
Their clash unfolded in an instant.
Steel rang against steel as they exchanged blows: Azeris struck with fervor, each movement a blend of raw strength and honed skill. Wilburn countered with precision, every action grounded in discipline and purpose. Their blades carved arcs of spiritual energy through the air, reverberating with emotion as their conflict escalated.
"Not bad," Wilburn acknowledged, parrying a sequence of fierce strikes with calm poise. "But remember, strength without control is wasted."
He responded with a rapid series of thrusts, each seeking to find vulnerability. Azeris danced backward, managing to redirect most attacks, but one slip cost him dearly—Wilburn's sword left a thin line of pain across his cheek, blood bubbling to the surface.
Azeris, albeit wounded, allowed a smirk to break through his serious demeanor.
"Good," he murmured, pain igniting a fire in his spirit. "You've made me bleed. Now let's see if you can keep up."
With a rallying cry, Azeris activated his Sword Sense, fusing with his sword, now ablaze with an infinite flame. The heat shimmered through the air, and his next strike transcended the physical—it became a manifestation of his spirit. A crescent arc of flame surged forward, colliding with Wilburn's aura shield just in time.
But despite the strength of his shield, Azeris' attack proved overwhelming, and in a heart-stopping moment, Wilburn was cut in two, a horrific scene that seemed to freeze time.
Blood and debris splattered across the square, and as the reality of what had unfolded settled over them, fear swept through the remaining soldiers. Those who had stood resolute began to flee, driven by a primal instinct for survival, while others were swept up in a tide of chaos as their world crumbled around them.
Frustration welled within Azeris as soldiers continued to impede his path.
"I don't have time for this," he growled, anguish threading through his voice, and with a surge of determination, he soared toward the castle like a fleeting shadow, leaving a path of scorched earth behind him.
Inside the castle, Kane Blackthrone watched from the war chamber, his heart racing in sync with the tremors caused by the conflict. Fear and uncertainty gripped him as he realized the fate of his city hung in the balance