A man sat on a jagged rock under a bruised sky. He wore a hood pulled low, but the edge of his beard showed—short, grey, trimmed with care. When he turned slightly, a pair of deep blue eyes caught the light. They were old eyes, eyes that seemed to hold the weight of whole planets. He whistled a slow tune, then lay back to count the cold stars rolling above him.
For a long time nothing changed. Then space cleaved open with a soft, brittle sound. A tear formed in the air and a young man stepped through. Behind him came a young woman whose presence steadied the world around her, and a rough-looking middle-aged man who carried an aura like iron. They moved forward easily, like people who belonged somewhere darker than this place.
"Big brother," the young man called, smiling as he closed the distance. "I hope you do not mind an extra guest tonight."
The hooded man did not smile. He rose slowly, cracking his knuckles with a sound like breaking branches. "You call me brother even after you betrayed our father's memory," he said. His voice was low, cold. "You took a path I warned you against. Our ties are cut. I do not believe you came here for conversation. I know your master sent you. Take your request and leave. I will not give what you want."
The newcomer's grin hardened. "Brave. Or foolish. You think your fury makes you strong, but take a look behind me." He turned, as if showing them a prize. "Think carefully. We are blood, yes, but blood can be spilled."
A vein stood out on the hooded man's temple. Heat crawled across his face like fire. His hands curled into fists.
"You are angry," the young man said smoothly. "But you have not heard the worst." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small bangle. He tossed it at the hooded man with the ease of someone throwing away a trinket.
The air shifted. The hooded man's body shook as if struck.
"You monster," he spat. "You killed Raven." The word cracked like glass. He stepped forward, darkness folding along his shoulders as he let his power swell. "Was power worth pruning your family? Is it worth her blood?"
The young man's face did not flinch. "I found her last week at her home. She resisted. She chose to fight me. Let her rest." His voice was flat. He watched the bangle spin and fall.
The hooded man drew himself up until his aura pushed outward. The ground trembled as he planted both feet, and a silver spear of light formed in his hand. He spun the spear once, then drove it into the earth with a force that split stone. A low, rolling quake answered him. Cracks raced away from his feet like lightning in slow motion.
"How do you plan to defeat us, you imbecile?" the young man mocked as his own aura rose to meet the pressure. He moved as if to step in, confident.
The hooded man did not answer. Instead he smiled without humor and said, "Who said I am alone?"
From the shadows two figures stepped forward. One wore a robe of silver, the other of red. The man in red had a deep, ragged scar across his face. Both showed slit pupils when the light caught their eyes, and scales ran along their necks and forearms like a second, cruel skin. They were large, muscle-bent, and every movement made the air feel smaller.
The night held its breath.
Damien's eyes widened as the two figures stepped forward, their scaled arms and slit pupils leaving no doubt of their origin. "Dragons," he murmured, almost in disbelief. Then his lips curved into a thin smile. "So, you've managed to bend their pride to your side, Khai. I'll admit, that's impressive."
His smile quickly dropped as a halberd appeared in his grip, its blade black and gleaming with malice. With a lazy motion, Damien sliced the air. The strike did not land on Khai, but instead shot out as a ripple of countless sharp edges, screaming through the air until they shredded an entire mountain in the distance, turning stone to dust.
He rolled his neck until it crackled. "But dragons or not, this is personal. I'll handle you myself, brother." He turned, his eyes flicking at the two behind him. "The rest is yours."
The angelic woman stepped forward, wings of pale gold unfurling behind her in a calm, radiant glow. Across from her, the silver-robed man drew in a deep breath, his body shivering with restrained power. A storm flickered around him before his form burst outward, scales of shining metal wrapping his body as he transformed into a dragon. Lightning crawled over his hide, every spark hissing with the weight of judgment.
The woman's aura shone brighter. Where her power touched, Damien's stray ripples of blades dissolved into harmless air. "So you are the purifier," the dragon rumbled, his voice layered with thunder. "Let us see if divinity can withstand tribulation."
He vanished.
The angel did not flinch. She raised her hand, palm glowing with holy fire. When the dragon reappeared in a flash above her, his claws swiping down, his strike disintegrated against a wave of pure light that washed outward like ripples in water.
The dragon reappeared again, this time at her side, then behind, his lightning claws slashing faster than thought. Each time, her presence nullified the blows, erasing them like chalk washed from a board. She stood firm, her eyes calm, wings spread, her aura like a shield that refused to waver.
But the dragon only laughed, thunder rolling in his chest. "You erase attacks… but what will you do when the storm itself becomes me?"
Lightning consumed him until his body shrank, compressed into a sleek, five-meter form. His scales tightened, sharper and harder, and his movements blurred into streaks of blinding arcs. He reappeared again, claws scoring against her light, and though her aura held, sparks of electricity scattered through the air.
For the first time, her expression flickered. His speed was no longer simply power—it was inevitability.
The angel lifted both hands, summoning a radiant barrier, a dome of holy light that purified even the thunder licking around it. But the dragon slammed into it, claw after claw, strike after strike. Each blow dissolved, but each left a faint aftertaste of electricity clinging to the air, like embers refusing to die.
He vanished again, and she spun, wings folding in as she raised her hands just in time to catch his claws. Lightning surged around them both, clashing with purifying fire. The collision split the sky above them, thunder and hymn crashing together in a single deafening roar.
The dragon grinned, his voice like rumbling clouds. "Purity against destruction. Let us see which survives the longer storm."
The angel's gaze hardened, her voice soft yet carrying like a hymn across the battlefield. "And let us see whose will burns brighter."
Their powers collided again, each clash rewriting the sky itself.