Blood gushed from King Silva's mouth as he crashed to the battlefield, his silver hair matted with crimson.
"Is this how a king dies?" he snarled through gritted teeth.
His yellow eyes blazed against his gore-streaked face, the white armor shattered across his torso. Every breath felt like a thousand daggers twisting in his flesh.
Silva tried to stand but collapsed instantly. Where his legs should have been, only ragged stumps remained, pumping blood into the mud.
"WHAT?!" Terror seized him as memories flooded back—his men falling, his kingdom burning. "FUCK,MY SWORD! WHERE IS MY SOUL SWORD?!"
His eyes found it—the Soul weapon with its proud lion crest now snapped in half, its enchanted metal dulled with blood,Suddenly an Hysterical laughter erupted from Silva's throat, transforming into a howl of agony as tears carved paths through the filth on his face.
"FATHER!"
Silva whipped around to see his son breaking through the circle of soldiers. His wife stood frozen behind them, her face a mask of horror. The surviving warriors formed a protective ring, swords drawn—not against enemies, but against him.
"STAY BACK FROM THE KING!" a captain bellowed, but the prince tore free.
Silva's smile died as realization struck like lightning,behind him loomed the colossal dragon, its obsidian scales gleaming with malice, eyes burning like twin moons. They had won, but at what cost?
Silva looked down in horror. His arms were changing—scales erupting through flesh, bones cracking as they reshaped. "The transformation..." he whispered.
"MY KING !"
His wife's sobs pierced the air. His men—his loyal men—stared at their king becoming a monster.
The dragon's laughter shattered the air like a thunderclap, sending soldiers staggering backward. Men dropped to their knees, blood trickling from their noses as the crushing pressure overwhelmed them. "The price of victory, mortal," it snarled, crimson gore cascading between fangs the size of broadswords.
"SILENCE, ABOMINATION!" Silva roared.
The dragon god's eyes blazed with dying fury. "You DARE insult a GOD? Consider yourself fortunate I breathe my last—tsk I can't believe I was defeated by vermin!" Its massive head lowered, jaws inches from Silva's face. "How does it BURN, mortal? To become the very monster you swore to destroy!"
"SHUT UP!" Silva screamed, veins bulging at his temples.
The commander charged forward—his hair identical to the king's—dropping to one knee before the transformed ruler.
"Commander—" A soldier lunged forward, terror in his eyes.
The commander's hand shot up, halting them. "My king..." His voice cracked.
Silva saw the glistening tears. "Tears stain a warrior's face, Sir Jeffrey."
The commander's fists clenched until knuckles whitened. "I'm no child needing protection."
"Hahaha right…" Silva laughed—a broken sound that died in his throat. "Protect my family and Guard Kurtkin with your life."
"NO!"
"The crown passes to you! My arrogance has bathed our kingdom in blood!" Silva's voice deepened. "Your reign will heal what I've destroyed."
Jeffrey's eyes blazed crimson with rage. "I REFUSE THE CROWN,BIG BROTHER!"
Silva's transformed face contorted in shock, then softened. "Brother? From the orphan I raised?"
"Blood means nothing! Please—"
"KILL ME!" Silva bellowed, scales erupting across his skin. "Before this curse consumes me completely! END THIS!"
Jeffrey's hand trembled on his sword hilt. "I can't—"
"DO IT NOW!"
Sir Jeffry's tears evaporated from his face as power surged through him. He raised his sword, which now crackled with lightning that scorched the air around it. "I don't want to disobey you, my king—my brother—but I swear on my bloodline I will defend this kingdom to my last breath!"
"NOOO!"
Silva's ears rang with his son's desperate scream. He turned to see his queen collapse, her face drained of color, while royal guards formed a protective wall around the young prince.
"What a touching display from such a pathetic hero," the dragon god rasped, its ancient scales crumbling like burning parchment. Golden blood oozed from its wounds as it fixed Silva with eyes like dying stars. "Foolish mortal, your sacrifice was meaningless. You never realized you were merely a pawn in a game beyond your comprehension."
"SILENCE!" Silva roared, his voice splitting the air. "My god Kotah will cast your soul into eternal torment!"
The dragon's laughter rumbled like distant thunder. "Call for your God.See if he comes. Your species is weak by nature, born to serve stronger wills. You fragile prey but your folly amuses me, little king.So l offer a parting gift."
Silva's muscles tensed as suffocating darkness erupted from the dragon's disintegrating form, a writhing vortex of pure malevolence that consumed everything in its path.
Behind him, Sir Jeffry planted his feet, his body becoming a conduit for Lighting aura. The air crackled as he drew energy from the storm clouds above, his eyes glowing white-hot. "ULTIMATE TECHNIQUE: GOD OF THUNDER, CELESTIAL LION'S JUDGMENT!"
"The student surpasses the master," Silva whispered with pride.
A colossal lion composed of blinding lightning materialized, its mane a corona of electrical fury. It charged toward Silva with jaws agape, reality itself bending around its form.
The impact obliterated Silva's senses. His flesh melted from his bones in an instant of excruciating agony—then merciful darkness claimed him.
•
•
Darkness.
Not the forgiving kind.
Silva plummeted—not through air, but through the coals of memory, through a cacophony of screams that ripped at the shreds of his soul.
Was this death?
His body had vanished, the agony was gone, and yet his mind burned with a fury fiercer than any wound.
Ghostly faces blurred before him—his son's wet cheeks, his wife's mute cry, Jeffrey's trembling blade, the horrified eyes of his subjects as their once-proud king lay broken, unable to shield them.
"I failed…" Silva's voice cracked into the void. "I'm nothing but a desolate king. Will Kotah condemn me for this sin?"
He grasped for a shred of solace. "At least I slew the Dragon God. They'll survive without me… But the rest of the dragons still breathe, right?"
Then, a voice answered. An ancient chill, vast as a mountain's shadow, coiled around his fading consciousness.
"Failure? Child of greed, that word is beauty compared to your betrayal."
Silva's sight filled with molten-gold eyes. The Dragon God.
"Damn it! Not you again…" he hissed and his voice brittle.
"You stole my might, butchered my kin, dared to slay a deity," the voice thundered. "For that, your soul shall know no rest."
"I'm dead," Silva spat, dread twisting his words. "What else can you steal?"
The golden pupils narrowed into slits.
"Hope."
"What?…"
Chains of midnight wrapped around his spirit, dragging him into an ever-deepening abyss.
"Your blood will bear my curse. Your
descendants will choke on the hate you sowed among my brood. And you… you shall be reborn to witness the harvest of your sins."
"Reborn…?" Silva croaked, terror lacing his tone.
"You will live again," the god whispered, ice in every syllable, "not as a king, but as a helpless child and when the truth claws its way back into your memory… you will beg for this darkness."
Silva tried to scream—only the void swallowed him whole.
****
Countless years later…
A jagged bolt of pain exploded at the base of Vincent's skull.
"Ow—!"
The frozen slope spun beneath him. He tumbled, boughs and rocks tearing at his coat until he slammed into a half-frozen stream with bone-rattling force.
"Young Master Vincent!" A maid's alarmed cry pierced the air. "Sir, are you all right?"
Breath seized in his chest. Each inhale scorched his lungs; his heart hammered like siege drums.
And then—visions.
Blood-curdling fire,a torrent of crimson blood, Lightning crackling with malice and a dragon's chilling laughter echoing in his skull.
Vincent's small hands scraped at the ice, his mind besieged by memories of his past.
"NO—! Stop—! I don't want to—!"
"YOUNG MASTER VINCENT!" She knelt beside the small boy, reaching for him. The moment their hands touched—
He shuddered onto the bank, eyes wide as a raven's, his pupils narrowing into terrified slits. Tears carved rivulets down his cheeks, though his soul knew no comfort.
Did the God dragon succeed? How the heck did this happen? He forced himself up from the snowy ground. The maid before him—strangely, her eyes were covered with a dark cloth.
"Young master, are you okay?" she asked again, her head tilting with concern.
Vincent shook his head, then forced a smile. He wasn't sure if this was an illusion, or some twisted afterlife or even the valley of elen . He had to act straight, to pretend. Besides, she had called him 'young master.' He must be a noble.
"Forget it. I'm cold," he said, his new voice small and unfamiliar to his own ears. "Let's go back to my room."
The maid hesitated, her expression unreadable behind the blindfold. Then she smiled softly and rose, offering a hand. "Okay then, let's go back."