Chapter 283 — Shadows of Vengeance
The grand hall of the Church of Saint Ovre was silent, save for the measured tapping of a gilded staff on the polished floor. Sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows depicting saints and martyrs, but the colors seemed muted, swallowed by the weight of the room's tension. At the head of the chamber, a man cloaked in black and crimson robes stood, his silver hair falling past his shoulders, sharp eyes narrowing at the reports scattered before him.
"Pathetic," he hissed, voice echoing off the stone walls. "Our armies… our righteous zeal… defeated by vermin. Vermin who hide in a hollow of trees and call themselves a nation. This Kael… this daemon-backed fool… must answer for his crimes."
The assembled cardinals and generals shifted uneasily. Whispers passed between them, muttered doubts creeping into the sacred space. The defeat had been humiliating, and their leader's fury only made the air heavier.
"He flew," a young captain said quietly, "he became… a dragon. None could stand against him. Our soldiers ran before even the first wave of his people could meet ours in combat."
The church leader slammed his staff against the floor, making the room quake. "Enough excuses! The weak are to be culled. The fools who call themselves my army were merely tools—failed tools. It is time we bring in someone who can strike terror into that hollow, someone capable of slaying this dragon and shattering Kael's hubris."
A hush fell over the room.
"Black markets have… options," he continued, his voice low and venomous. "Assassins, mercenaries, hunters… names whispered in fear across the continent. Bring me the one known as the Dragon Slayer. He is the only man I trust to pierce that daemon flesh, to bring death where my armies failed."
One of the generals bowed low, retrieving a parchment. "It has been done, Your Eminence. The arrangements are being made. The Dragon Slayer… he answers only to you."
A cruel smile crept across the leader's face, his lips thin and sharp. "Good. Let him prepare. I want Kael's blood on his hands, his people scattered like leaves before winter. And when the Hollow falls, the rest of the world will remember that no nation, no daemon, no child, can defy the Church of Saint Ovre without consequence."
The chamber emptied swiftly, the weight of the task settling on every man and woman present. Outside the sacred walls, the market shadows moved. Whispers carried over rooftops and down dark alleyways, coins exchanged, contracts signed.
In a dimly lit room near the docks, a figure sat sharpening a massive blade, the steel humming faintly with its own life. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his eyes cold as obsidian. The air seemed to bend slightly around him, as though the darkness itself respected his presence. His hand caressed the hilt, testing the weight, imagining the strike, imagining the roar of scales beneath the blade.
A single servant knelt nearby, voice trembling. "They say… they've requested your services, master. The Hollow… the dragon, Kael."
The man's eyes glinted, unreadable. "The dragon?" He spoke softly, yet each syllable carried an edge of ice. "A dragon is a test… nothing more. I take challenges. I take what is promised. Bring him to me, and I will show the world what it means to face the Dragon Slayer."
The servant bowed again, disappearing into the night to relay the command. The man remained, sharpening the blade, the steel catching the faint candlelight. Every movement deliberate. Every breath measured. Every thought focused on the kill that lay ahead.
And in the shadows outside, the church leader's orders would soon reach their final recipient, the meeting of master and tool complete. The war was far from over.
The Hollow had won the day, but the storm brewing beyond the horizon promised fire, blood, and death like none had yet seen.