The void trembled.
Red light bled from the sky above.
The dragon's colossal silhouette circled overhead, wings of shadow and starlight, its voice a thunderous whisper in his soul.
Below, Matteo stood.
No longer kneeling.
No longer lost.
His fists were clenched.
His eyes steady.
Heart—slow, certain.
He took a breath.
And let it go.
There was no scream. No dramatic roar.
Just—
Acceptance.
The void cracked like glass.
A ripple echoed from his feet.
Light poured from within him.
Grief, guilt, doubt—melted away like snow in summer.
White strands of hair shimmered like moonlight down his back.
Eyes violet. Sharp. Bright.
A crooked grin tugged at his lips.
Not the mask's grin.
His grin.
Matteo's.
Above him, the dragon let out a low, satisfied rumble.
"So you've chosen."
It descended from the sky like a falling god.
Obsidian scales streaked with red. Its claws shimmered like blades of midnight flame.
And then—
It struck.
The world exploded in motion.
Matteo dodged instinctively, body weaving under a shadow-blur of claws.
A gust of heat and wind roared past him.
He leapt, spun midair, and landed across the void.
But the dragon was already there.
A tail swept across the horizon—
Matteo rolled, sparks flying from his boots—
Claws came down like guillotines.
CRACK!
A shockwave threw Matteo across the darkness, slamming him into an unseen wall.
He coughed, chest burning. The air buzzed with pressure.
But he stood again.
"You're fast," he muttered, blood at the edge of his lip. "Still big though."
The dragon's eye narrowed, almost amused.
Matteo flexed his fingers.
Then he vanished.
BOOM—!
He appeared behind the dragon's wing, slamming a punch wrapped in violet light. The dragon reeled slightly.
Another strike.
Snap.
A rib fractured. Not the dragon's—his.
But he kept going.
Dashing across the void, he zigzagged in mad footwork, spinning and twisting like a shadow unchained. For the first time, he wasn't thinking about surviving—he was dancing.
He was having fun.
The dragon turned, exhaled a breath of red plasma—
Matteo flung himself sideways—
The blast carved a canyon in the void, missing him by inches.
"Too slow!" he shouted.
He leapt high, spun forward, slammed his knee into the dragon's jaw—
The beast snarled, swiped upward—
WHAM!
Matteo was launched skyward, bones crunching. His vision went black.
He fell.
Fell.
Fell—
Only to land on one knee, panting, a crater forming under him.
The dragon walked forward, its voice a calm rumble.
"You fight with heart. But heart alone is not enough."
Matteo gritted his teeth.
"Tch… no crap."
He staggered to his feet again, his body burned and scraped—hair drifting around him like a ghost's veil.
Then—
The violet glow returned.
The Roman clock on his chest ticked.
Click.
It landed on "II."
Power flooded his limbs.
Not chaotic. Not borrowed.
His.
"One more round," he whispered.
Then he charged.
He dashed low, faster than before—his feet leaving glowing trails. He twisted under a claw, launched himself upward, fist glowing with compressed light.
The punch slammed into the dragon's chin.
BOOOOM!
The dragon staggered back.
It bled.
Just a drop. But it bled.
Matteo dropped back to the ground, panting heavily.
"You're strong," he wheezed. "But so am I."
The dragon stilled.
Then… slowly lowered its head.
Its eyes locked with Matteo's—glowing like twin suns.
"You have fulfilled the first condition."
Matteo's knees nearly buckled.
"Condition…?"
The dragon's breath shook the void.
"You have stopped running from who you are."
It raised a massive claw.
Etched into its scale was a seal—
A glowing Roman clock, identical to Matteo's.
"This form… is your first face. The beginning of your evolution."
The void shifted.
Around them, fractured images of Matteo's life flashed:
The bar.
The alley fights.
The mask.
The quiet loneliness.
The defiant grin.
The dragon's voice became calm.
"I'll call this form: Mischief."
"…Mischief?"
The dragon nodded.
"A form born not of rage or vengeance… but freedom."
It began to glow—its entire colossal body unraveling into energy.
That energy rushed toward Matteo like a crimson tide.
He stood still. He didn't flinch.
The power enveloped him.
And it didn't hurt.
It felt like…
Potential.
Endless. Terrifying. Free.
The world stilled.
The dragon reformed—smaller now. Humanoid. A cloaked figure with glowing red eyes, black horns, and a coiling tail made of stardust.
"But this form… Mischief… it was new even to me."
Matteo frowned. "…What?"
The dragon paused, eyes glowing.
"We dragons once held many forms—each tied to a truth within ourselves. We could manifest them as avatars… reflections of our inner nature."
It turned, gesturing behind it.
Massive dragonic figures shimmered behind them—
Wingless beasts. Great serpents. One that resembled a comet of flame—
But one space was empty.
"There was one form that vanished from our world."
Matteo stared.
"The fragment said to contain boundless freedom and laughter."
His fists clenched. "You think that's me?"
The dragon only smiled.
"I know it is."
"Your soul does not belong to this world… yet it is tethered to it. Like a thread through a tapestry."
"You are part of the convergence."
Matteo's stomach dropped.
"…Convergence?"
The dragon nodded solemnly.
"A bleeding of worlds. A return. A reckoning. Maybe a rebirth. Two worlds fixing each other."
He remembered Earth. The glitches. The monsters. The warnings.
Two worlds… bleeding into one.
The dragon knelt, placing its claw on Matteo's shoulder.
"It was fate that led you here. Perhaps not mine. But his."
"…Who?"
But the dragon didn't answer.
"You will know one day. But for now, Mischief…"
"…Your trial is over."
A final surge of warmth pulsed in Matteo's chest.
"You are now the bearer of the Draconic Rune. The first of your kind. The key to your future forms. You have now set a huge target on your back."
"Both worlds will hate you. But it will also need you."
Matteo said nothing.
He looked at his hand.
Then up at the sky.
He smiled.
Not because he had won.
But because he had finally filled that hole in his life. He had finally become complete.