Chapter 282 — The Dragon of the Hollow
The morning broke with a blood-red sky. A thousand banners of the Church of Saint Ovre snapped in the wind beyond the tree line, a wall of white and gold bearing down on the Hollow like a storm of righteousness. Their chants rose like thunder, scripture turned to war cries.
Kael stood on the wooden palisade, eyes narrowing as he counted their banners. Twice their number, maybe more. But numbers were not enough. Not today.
"Positions!" his voice boomed, rolling across the Hollow. "Just as we planned. Shields front. Archers—nock, but do not fire until the order is given. Spears forward. Hold the line."
The ground trembled as the zealots advanced. Rows upon rows of polished steel, sunlight gleaming on their blades. Their priests shouted blessings, raising censers of smoke that swirled with holy fire. It would have been intimidating—if Kael hadn't seen it all before.
"Rogan," Kael said, never looking away from the tide approaching. "Break them."
With a roar, Rogan charged, his hammer slamming into the dirt. The Hollow militia surged forward as one, shields locking, spears bristling. Arrows rained down in perfect volleys from above, cutting swathes through the white-clad zealots. Thalos' voice cut through the chaos, shouting orders, shifting formations like a conductor guiding an orchestra of war.
The zealots hit their line like a wave, but they shattered on impact. Rogan's hammer turned armor into splinters, and Varik slipped through the chaos like a shadow, cutting throats and vanishing before screams could rise. Lyria's strategy unfolded flawlessly—oil pits ignited underfoot, flames consuming entire ranks. Azhara's healers darted behind the lines, pulling wounded back and shoving them upright again.
The Hollow was a machine of war, every piece working as Kael had planned.
But even perfection could falter.
A scream tore through the din. Kael's head snapped toward the sound and his blood ran cold. One of the Hollow's children—no older than ten—had stumbled past the barricades, clutching a wooden toy sword. The boy froze as a zealot raised his blade, death a heartbeat away.
Kael moved before thought could reach him. One blink he was on the wall, the next he was there, magisteel sword intercepting the zealot's strike with a clang that split the air. His chaos magic surged, twisting through his veins. He lifted the boy gently with one arm, shoving him back toward safety.
The zealot sneered. "Daemon filth."
Kael's golden eyes burned. His skin rippled, scales crawling across his arms and chest. Horns pushed from his brow, his jaw sharpening, wings unfurling with a bone-deep crack. His roar shook the earth—half man, half dragon, all fury.
The zealot didn't even have time to scream before Kael's claw tore through him.
Silence spread like a plague across the battlefield. Both armies froze, watching as the Hollow's leader spread his wings wide, smoke curling from his maw. The sheer weight of his presence crushed the zealots where they stood.
And then, the smell hit him. Sharp, acrid. Kael wrinkled his nose.
"…Gods above," he muttered, voice rumbling like a storm. "They pissed themselves."
The Hollow's warriors erupted in laughter even as their enemies broke. Zealots dropped weapons, shields clattering against the dirt as they stumbled back in terror. Some tried to rally, but one roar from Kael shattered what little courage remained. They fled into the trees, scattering like leaves before a storm.
The battlefield was theirs.
Hours later, the field lay silent. Fires smoldered in the pits, smoke trailing lazily into the red sky. The Hollow's wounded were few, their dead fewer. Victory had been swift, decisive—the kind that would be remembered for generations.
Kael stood at the center, still half-scaled, wings tucked against his back as he surveyed the carnage. The boy he had saved clung to Azhara's robes, eyes wide with awe. Rogan clapped Kael's back hard enough to stagger a lesser man.
"You bloody scared the piss out of them—literally!" Rogan bellowed with a laugh. "If I live to see another hundred battles, I'll never see the likes of that again."
Kael only exhaled, golden eyes scanning the horizon. Victory was theirs, but his heart knew the truth: this was only the first storm.
The Hollow had survived. But now, the world would know it was strong.