Aegon staggered upright, his knees carving two bloody furrows through the rubble.
As he raised his head, a sharp metallic taste filled his throat. He hacked up a mouthful of blood mixed with fragments of his own entrails.
Above, the fused twin awakening blotted out the battlefield.
The merged flesh of Rhaella and Aerea had swelled to more than twenty meters. Their bone-forged wings unfurled, sprouting hundreds of spines. Each barbed tip skewered a soldier still writhing in half-life, the whole mass resembling a colossal parasitic tree draining its prey for sustenance.
Jaehaerys' broken remains lay only dozens of paces away, his severed chest still bleeding sluggishly. He hadn't even managed to complete his second strike before the Cannibal had torn him apart.
Alysanne, astride Silverwing, stumbled to the ground and ran to her brother's mangled torso, sobbing uncontrollably.
Meanwhile, the twin awakening crept toward the Cannibal. Their skirt-like tendrils plowed furrows through the earth as hundreds of bone arrows, strung with nerve-bundles, darted like silver serpents into the gaps between scales.
The deadliest barbs had already punched through the black dragon's left wing membrane. Blood gushed along the grooves of the spiraled bone spurs, bursting into a crimson mist that steamed in the air.
"ROAR—!" The Cannibal's pained bellow shook free the last dragonkin clinging to its back.
Aegon saw the fleshy tendrils invading its body multiplying beneath the scales, bulging like wormlike veins.
The Cannibal writhed in agony, its jaws opening to unleash a torrent of dragonfire upon the twin sisters' abomination.
Dark green flames poured like a waterfall of molten stone, reducing the surface of the twin form to cinders. But from every charred stump, countless flesh buds burst forth, sprouting anew while carrying the lingering fire of the dragon's breath within them.
At the base of the twin form, their root-like skirt writhed to life. A thousand fleshy cords slithered outward, wrapping the Cannibal in a net so dense it left no gap to escape.
Under their parasitic grip, the dragon's transformation was visible even from afar. Its once-massive body began to wither, flesh shrinking as its frame grew gaunt.
The Maegor face upon its neck glared in fury and hatred. It commanded the vast arm upon the Cannibal's back to heave up its flesh-forged greatsword and bring it crashing down upon the twins.
The blow landed with a thunderous crack, the blade sinking deep into their waist.
The sword's writhing intestinal tentacles lashed to life, seeking to devour them. But the twins were not passive prey. Thousands of tendrils shot from their backs, striking like lightning. They pierced the flesh-forged weapon before the tentacles could close in, locking the two monsters in a grisly contest of strength and will.
At that moment, Aegon seized his chance.
With a surge from his legs, he launched skyward, a gale swirling around him. In his grasp formed a steel greatsword over three meters long, its blade wreathed in faint whorls of spiraling air. The very atmosphere hissed as it tore beneath the weapon's pressure.
He hurtled downward, his strike aimed at the wound already gouged into the Cannibal's massive arm.
The blade struck with a sharp, rending crack.
The enormous arm, unable to withstand the force, snapped from its root. It hung grotesquely, tethered only by shreds of torn flesh.
The Maegor face shrieked, its cry like a night owl's death wail, echoing across the battlefield, steeped in torment and rage.
And the twin sisters swelled further still, growing at a terrifying pace.
The flesh and blood they had consumed from the Cannibal fueled their abomination, each bite of the dragon's body becoming nourishment that drove their monstrous growth.
Their root-like skirt writhed upward, climbing the dragon's flanks like vast serpents. From a distance, the twin awakening resembled an ancient, terrible tree, sinking its roots deep into the dragon's flesh.
The Cannibal refused to yield. It snapped its fanged jaws, tearing great chunks of flesh from the twins. Yet even such savagery barely wounded them, leaving only superficial marks.
The roots swarmed faster. Like countless serpents, they scaled the Cannibal's body and coiled about its throat.
In an instant, they bound its maw shut like ropes, sealing its jaws so tightly the dragon could no longer open them.
Not only that—the aerial roots continued to constrict around the Dragon's body, tightening like a net that left no room to escape.
The Cannibal thrashed wildly, but it could not break free. At last, after a violent struggle, it lost balance and crashed to the ground with an earth-shattering impact, the tremor rolling across the battlefield.
From above, Aegon stared in shock.
Never had he imagined that the awakened forms of the twin sisters, Rhaella and Aerea, could possess such terrifying, overwhelming power.
But their faces were expressionless, their eyes vacant, as though they had lost all awareness—completely overtaken by this monstrous awakening.
Aegon felt a wave of unease. He knew all too well that if he failed to pull them back, the consequences would be catastrophic.
He gathered his magic at once, attempting to use [Magic Resonance] to tug at the flow within the twins' bodies, hoping to rouse their reason and stop them from falling fully into demonic corruption.
But his efforts sank without a ripple, yielding nothing.
Frowning, Aegon realized this awakening was unlike any dragonborn or dragon kin transformation he had ever witnessed.
As his resonance brushed against their essence, he sensed something startling—buried deep within that vast, surging power was the faintest spark of divinity, like a fragile flame struggling to be born.
The discovery chilled him. If things continued this way, the twins might very well evolve into demigod-tier abominations.
Meanwhile, the Cannibal, its jaws still bound, could only unleash muffled, wretched wails—like despairing howls straight from the pit of hell.
The Maegor face on its neck twisted in rage and disbelief.
Seeing this, Aegon beat his wings and drew closer.
Studying the twins carefully, he noticed something: though they remained in their awakened state, they had not attacked of their own will. That meant some fragment of reason still lingered—they could still tell friend from foe.
Relief steadied him. Now was the perfect chance to finish the Cannibal.
He pressed his palms together. Magic surged through him, condensing until his hands transformed into a massive white-steel battleaxe. Its edge gleamed coldly, run through with living currents of energy.
Aegon gripped the weapon with both hands and raised it high, his aura towering so vast it seemed to split the heavens.
"Rest in peace," he intoned, his voice the judgment of a god made flesh, bearing down upon Maegor.
He unleashed the [Whirlwind Blade].
The axe spun into a blazing wheel of steel, whirling so fast it howled as it tore the air apart.
With unstoppable force, Aegon hurled it down upon the Cannibal's neck.
Flesh and scales flew under the relentless bite of the weapon. Blood spattered in torrents, and the dragon's massive throat was shorn open piece by piece.
At last, with one final stroke, the Cannibal's neck split. Its head toppled to the ground in a cloud of dust, eyes brimming with despair and fury even in death.
Its body crashed after it, still and silent. The monstrous battle, for the moment, had ended.
But Aegon knew—the greater danger now lay with Rhaella and Aerea.
…
On the fringes of the battlefield, soldiers stared wide-eyed in terror.
Some collapsed outright, weapons slipping from trembling hands.
"What… what kind of monster is that?!" a young soldier stammered, his voice breaking with fear.
Duke Rogar's expression was grave, his grip on his sword quivering as he rasped, "Never have I seen such power. That awakened form… it is beyond imagination."
Aegon swept forward on his wings, closing in on the twins.
Their colossal forms clung to each other, encased in a blazing, moonlike sphere of psychic light that pulsed with terrifying energy.
Their faces were serene, eyes closed, as if they slept within some deep dream.
The instant Aegon drew near, a storm of bone-arrows—spawned from writhing tendrils—shot toward him like a torrential downpour.
His pupils narrowed. Twisting midair with phantom speed, he dodged as he shouted desperately:
"Aerea! Rhaella! Can you hear me? It's Aegon—your brother!"
The arrows froze.
Every single one halted midair, suspended as though time itself had stopped.
Aegon exhaled sharply, edging closer to the twin beings that now towered over thirty meters tall.
Inside the luminous moon, he glimpsed two translucent little girls locked in each other's arms.
Their faces were soft, childlike, their eyes closed in slumber—they looked just like Rhaella and Aerea had when they were young.
Knowing how dire the situation was, Aegon immediately tried to draw on [Magic Resonance] once again, seeking their consciousness. But once more, nothing answered him.
With no other choice, he turned to the ancient Valyrian [Resonance Spell], pouring his focus into extending his own mind outward.
This time, at last, Aegon managed to connect with the fragile remnants of the sisters' sanity.
"Big brother… is that you?"
Within the full moon's glow, Aerea's lashes trembled faintly as she murmured, her voice carrying both confusion and joy.
Aegon quickly answered, "It's me. Can you find a way to wake? I can use [Magic Resonance] to help you control this body together."
Rhaella's voice came next: "No. This full moon is the key to sealing away the beast inside our awakened form. If it's broken, our minds will be consumed and twisted—we'd never be able to return as humans again."
Aegon understood the danger, then asked, "I see… but can you at least keep the awakened body from attacking others?"
"Yes." Rhaella's reply was firm, without hesitation.
Aegon thought for a moment, then spoke with resolve. "Then rest within the full moon for now. I'll find a way to return your awakened body to the Valyria Peninsula.
There, the demigod elder Aerea once met may be able to help you master it—and keep your human reason intact."
"Alright," the sisters' voices overlapped as one.
Looking at them slumbering within the moon's embrace, Aegon's heart filled with helplessness and pity.
He let out a long sigh and slowly descended, calling on his inner magic. With [Magic Resonance], he gradually forced down his own semi-awakened state.
Flesh rippled and shifted—his steel wings folding back into his body, his towering form shrinking until he once again stood as a man, just under two meters tall.
…
The rebel army was in ruins, their losses staggering.
First, they had suffered Maegor's dragon-beast's relentless assault. Then, the merciless slaughter of the Twin Awakened had claimed yet more lives—thousands lay dead.
Fear spread through the ranks like plague. Soldiers' minds snapped, and many threw down weapons and armor, fleeing the battlefield in blind panic.
Aegon knew morale had to be restored, and quickly. He summoned the nobles to him.
They came at once, their faces drawn and complicated, each marked by battle—garments torn, skin cut, blood staining their bodies.
When they reached Aegon, they dropped to one knee in reverent salute, and attendants offered him fresh robes with quiet deference.
The war, most now realized, was all but over.
The dragon-monster that had ravaged the field lay dead. The dreadful face of Maegor, fused to its neck, had perished with it.
Yet the victory had come at a terrible price. All around lay the corpses of comrades, shattered blades, and tattered banners. Sorrow and heaviness weighed on every heart.
"See to the soldiers' comfort," Aegon said gravely to Lord Rogar. "Fence off this battlefield. No one is to approach the Twin Awakened."