The battle was over.
The red aura enemy lay unconscious beneath shattered stone and fading light. Master Thomas leaned on Bolt's shoulder, breathing heavily but alive.
Bolt looked around — blood still drying on his face, his aura dimmed, but his instinct pulled him deeper into the glowing cavern.
There — at the far end — a small chamber, quiet and untouched.
Dozens of candles burned without melting, their flames dancing unnaturally slow.
In the center of the circle of flame…
A skull mask, carved from silver bone, etched with ancient thunder runes, and glowing faintly with an electric pulse.
Beside it, on the stone, ancient text written in lost dialects.
Bolt (reading slowly):
"Thunder God."
Something about it called to him.
He reached out.
Fingertips touched the mask—
Zzzk—BOOM!!!
The entire chamber flashed with blinding light as the mask suddenly glowed bright blue, releasing a pulse of electricity that threw sparks into the air.
A distant bursting roar echoed through the valley.
Bolt's eyes widened. He grabbed the mask and sprinted back to his master.
Suddenly—
SKY SPLITTING SOUND!
CRAAAAAACK!!!
Something tore through the air above like a lightning bolt made flesh.
They looked up—
Descending from the heavens, slicing through clouds at the speed of sound…
A dragon.
But not like the others.
It wasn't massive like the flame or stone dragons. No—it was lean, sleek, built like a storm given wings.
Its scales shimmered with arcs of lightning, deep blue and silver. Each flap of its wings created a sonic boom. Its yellow eyes crackled like storm clouds.
Master Thomas (staggering back):
"No… it can't be…"
Bolt (quietly, breathless):
"…The Thunder Dragon…"
The dragon landed just meters away — gently, silently, despite its size. Lightning danced around its claws.
It stared directly at Bolt.
The other dragons — scattered across the valley — howled in fear. Even the most powerful beasts trembled and backed away.
This dragon was not their kind. It was their king.
But it didn't roar.
It didn't attack.
It bowed its head.
Bolt stood stunned. He slowly reached into his pouch… and placed the Thunder God Mask on his face.
As the mask touched his skin—BOOM!!!
An explosion of aura surged outward. Thunder cracked the sky.
The dragon immediately lowered itself, front legs down, wings folded — submitting to him.
Master Thomas (in awe):
"…This… this isn't a curse…"
His voice trembled.
Master:
"Bolt… you were never meant to be a normal Sage. This mask… this dragon… these are not tools of destruction. They are the signs of a forgotten prophecy."
He looked at Bolt, who now stood cloaked in crackling light, the dragon by his side.
Master Thomas (whispering):
"Thunder Sages are not just wielders of lightning… They are destined to be gods.
Bolt stood silently in the doorway of the old hut.
The mask of the Thunder God rested firmly on his face, glowing softly under the early morning sun. The Thunder Sword hung across his back, humming faintly with contained energy.
Behind him, the valley was calm.
The Thunder Dragon remained coiled high upon the distant cliffs — its presence alone enough to keep every other beast in hiding. No other dragon had shown its face since that day.
And yet… Bolt had returned with his master.
Master Thomas lay in bed, his wounds slowly healing with Bolt's care. Days passed in quiet conversations, shared meals, and calm weather. The chaos felt far away now.
One evening, Bolt sat quietly outside the hut, looking toward the horizon. The sky was painted orange. He removed the mask for a moment, holding it in his lap.
Bolt (thinking):
"I don't fully understand what Master meant. A god? A prophecy?"
He looked down at his hand — aura crackled faintly between his fingers.
Bolt:
"…But I do know this much… I'm no longer the boy who walked into this valley."
He slid the mask back on.