Lucian leapt into Agheel's torrent of fire.
Storm winds roared forth, parting the flames so they could not touch him.
This time, he had no desire to fight barehanded. Fists were ill-suited against the hardened scales and hide of a flying dragon. Conveniently, the weapon wielded by the Dragon Communion Knight just now had caught his eye. Why not borrow it?
But to Lucian's surprise, the knight and his crimson steed had not perished in the flames. A blood-red barrier of killing aura wrapped around them both, though their armor burned white-hot. Without intervention, they would surely have died within moments.
Seeing Lucian drive back the inferno, the knight felt a sudden surge of relief — a brush with death turned aside.
But before he could even voice his gratitude, Lucian simply extended his hand.
"Your axe. Lend it to me."
"Ah? Oh… oh!"
The greataxe passed into Lucian's grip. He weighed it, nodded with satisfaction.
Heavy. Massive. Its haft carved from the bone of some great beast, its blades polished dragon horns, glistening with residual bloodlust. More than a weapon — almost a living thing, ravenous for blood.
By size and weight, it was a colossal weapon. Just Lucian's preference. Brutal. Direct. Especially now that his Great Rune allowed him to alter his form.
He stripped away his tattered clothes, leaving only the loose skirt pants he had prepared for such moments. Truly, he needed a proper set of arms and armor, else every battle would see his garb ruined. Fortunately, the materials for just such a suit now lay before him.
His body grew taller, broader. Power surged, the Great Rune's might pouring into his flesh. The greataxe, meant for two hands, now looked as if made for one.
Lucian glanced at himself, chuckled.
"Heh. Reminds me of an old friend… Some guy who turns into a macho man at noon"
"A man 'sinned' with Pride, who became the Strongest beneath the Sun, and fought with an axe."
He raised the weapon high and swung.
The oil-soaked Dragon Communion Grease upon the blade scattered as he struck, carried with shards of rock and red aura by the storm-born wind.
A titanic gale cleaved the lake, parted the fire, and tore toward Agheel.
Sensing danger, Agheel abandoned his flame-breath midstream and hurled himself aside. The blast scorched a cliff face red-hot. Lucian's strike meant for his skull instead tore into his left leg, ripping flesh and leaving a gaping wound.
Pain — true pain — wracked Agheel, and he went mad.
His vast wings braced against the ground, hind legs driving him forward with unstoppable force. He charged like a living mountain.
Seeing that horned head barreling toward him, Lucian's lips curled in delight.
Time to stop the dragon's charge.
In another life, he had relished this very act in a different hunt — a greatsword bracing against a charging beast. Had he grown rusty?
He put his right hand holding the axe behind him, his left leg slightly bent forward and his center of gravity sank, body coiled for a devastating rising slash. Then, at the last moment, he changed his mind.
He shifted the axe to his left hand, but kept his stance.
Behind him, the Dragon Communion Knight's eyes widened. Madness! No man could face down a dragon's charge barehanded!
Agheel crashed forward, jaws yawning wide, breath reeking of charred bile.
But Lucian only grinned.
A weapon was a weapon — but when the blood surged, such thoughts were cast aside.
To tear down such a beast with one's own flesh — that was the true thrill.
His waist twisted, his right fist launched like thunder, slamming into the base of Agheel's massive horn.
The dragon's head snapped back, yet his body thundered onward. The lake's muck gave Lucian no footing — he slid backward, dragged meters through mud and water.
And then — stopped.
Agheel's unstoppable charge ground to a halt, his head pressed in Lucian's palm, unable to push further.
He had stopped the dragon. With a single fist.
A man and a wyrm locked in primal contest.
The Communion Knight could scarcely believe his eyes. A famed flying dragon's charge, halted by human flesh? Impossible. Yet true.
Lucian's eyes burned, wild and bloodthirsty. Locked upon them, Agheel felt a sensation long forgotten — a shudder of fear.
The last time had been in his youth, when an ancient dragon's gaze had fallen upon him. But this was different. That dragon had wanted to "play."
This man meant to kill him.
Panic gripped Agheel. He belched fire skyward, then lurched back, desperate to flee.
But Lucian's right hand swept the flames aside. He vaulted upward, landing upon the dragon's skull, clinging to his horn.
The greataxe rose and fell, striking the horn's root.
Agheel thrashed, but the man clung fast. Blow after blow rained down until—
Crack!
The great horn, pride of his kind, snapped free.
Lucian tumbled down as the dragon reeled, landing lightly upon the ground. He tossed the horn onto the bank, smirking. A fine prize.
Agheel's roar shook the heavens, rage blotting out his fear. His pride torn, his mind gave way to beast's wrath.
He gathered fire in his maw — but a kick to his jaw sent it exploding within.
Not wounded, but shaken. Panic surged anew. He flapped hard, wings straining to lift him skyward. But upon his back sat Lucian, greataxe slung across his shoulders, waving cheerfully when the dragon glanced back.
"Ahh, to ride a dragon… not bad at all. I wonder, could I one day ride an Ancient One?"
Enraged, Agheel bucked wildly, but Lucian only pressed a hand upon his back.
"You thought you could leave? Who decided that? The only one who gets to decide such things is me. Begone."
Storm winds howled, driving the dragon down. No matter how his wings beat, Agheel was forced from the sky, slammed back into the lake.
Lucian dismounted, standing before him.
"Enough play. Time to end this."
He raised the axe, rune-gifted muscles surging. A cleaving arc swept out — shearing one of Agheel's wings clean away.
The dragon toppled, grounded forever.
Lucian leapt, descending with brutal force. The axe fell.
Agheel's head rolled free, eyes wide with terror and fury even in death.
Standing atop the corpse, Lucian studied the scales and hide. Not as unyielding as an ancient's stone skin, but worthy material nonetheless. If Hewg could craft it into armor that shifted with his form…
The lake ran red with dragon's blood. Crabs and prawns scuttled back, drawn by its allure, only to scatter as Lucian's killing intent swept them away.
He sighed. Skinning was not his skill. Best to have Stormveil's men haul the corpse back. Perhaps Hewg could work it, or failing that… Iji, the blacksmith under Ranni's service.
The smaller drake, still struggling, met the same fate in a single stroke.
Lucian turned to Agheel's belly. The heart — that was what he sought. The Great Rune might unravel its power, and the Dragon Communion's Incantations… truly, they had their allure.
But where was the heart? He frowned. Then glanced toward the Communion knight.
"You there. You know where a dragon's heart lies, don't you?"
The knight hesitated, then approached. His name was Moroga, descendant of Storm Knights exiled to Caelid. His path was steeped in dragon's blood, his creed one of power at any cost. He knew he could not deny this man.
"Shall I cut it out for you?"
"That would be best. Mind the scales and hide. I'll need them intact."
Lucian returned the axe. Moroga accepted it with both hands, and began carving into Agheel's belly.
As he worked, Lucian spoke.
"You wear a Storm Knight's armor, but I've never seen you in Stormveil. Who are you?"
"Storm Knight… of a sort. I am Moroga, descendant of the Storm Knights of Caelid."
"Caelid, is it? Far indeed."
Lucian nodded. "Your strength is good. Serve me. I've many Storm Knights, but never one who walks the path of Dragon Communion."
But Moroga shook his head.
"Forgive me. My path is blood-soaked and wretched. To follow me brings only misfortune."
Lucian only chuckled, not angered. Instead he asked of dragon's lore.
Moroga answered as he cut deeper, revealing at last a massive heart, studded with stony scales, still pulsing faintly.
"Dragon hearts fuel the Communion. Scales and hides make armor. Blood and flesh strengthen those who partake — though beware. Bathe in it, eat of it, and bloodlust follows. My steed drank dragon's blood with me. Now it thirsts for nothing else. Stronger dragons yield greater power. But for you, Lord… even Agheel's blood may prove little."
He lifted the enormous heart, presenting it reverently. Lucian took it.
Moroga bowed, intending to depart. But Lucian halted him, gesturing to the smaller drake's corpse.
"That one — do you not want it?"
Moroga blinked, startled. His hunt had failed. Were it not for Lucian, he would be dead.
"I desire it… but it is your spoil, not mine."
Lucian waved dismissively. "I've no use for another heart. Skin it, take the corpse. In return, teach me all you know of dragonkind."
Moroga lowered his head in gratitude, and set to work.