Randell in a rush.
Aris fighting.
Something was off and cyan realized
Trees smeared into indistinct lines as Cyan tore across their tops, each leap violent and reckless. Bark shattered beneath his feet, branches snapping as he rebounded again and again.
The forest couldn't keep up with him.
The pressure in his chest sharpened.
"Hey," Cyan said, breath cutting in and out. "You. The thing talking in my head—what's your name?"
A fractional delay.
Query acknowledged.
Voice: I do not possess a registered name.
Cyan twisted midair, landing hard on another trunk. "That's annoying."
Clarification:
Voice: A name is not required for operational functionality.
However, if designation improves communication efficiency, you may assign one.
Cyan didn't stop. Didn't slow. The word came out without thought, forced by urgency.
"…Orion."
Silence. Exactly 0.3 seconds.
Designation accepted.
Voicee: Name "Orion" registered.
Assessment: designation is… suitable.
Cyan exhaled sharply. "Good. Now answer me—what's happening in Ranon?"
No delay this time.
Alert.
Ranon is currently under attack.
Cyan's eyes widened.
Aura detonated around his body, wrapping him in harsh blue light. His muscles screamed as his velocity spiked beyond restraint. Teeth clenched, veins burning, he launched forward with savage force, trees exploding behind him as he tore through the canopy—
straight toward home.
Time passed by.
The forest broke open.
Cyan stumbled into the clearing at full speed—and nearly fell.
His feet skidded across dirt and ash. His lungs burned. His chest seized as he tried to draw in air that felt too thick, too hot. He bent forward instinctively, hands dropping to his knees—
—and froze.
Fire.
Not scattered.
Not spreading.
Already there.
Ranon was burning.
The houses closest to the edge were half-consumed, flames crawling across rooftops and collapsing beams inward. Smoke rolled low across the ground, heavy and black, stinging his eyes before he realized he was staring.
His mind stalled.
This was wrong.
He'd left hours ago. Maybe a day. People had been alive. Walking. Talking. Arguing over nothing.
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
His legs took a step forward without permission. Then another. Slow. Uncertain. Like the ground itself might reject him.
The heat hit next.
It pressed against his skin, dry and suffocating. His throat tightened. The smell followed—burnt wood first, then something else underneath it that made his stomach turn hard enough that he gagged.
"No…"
The sound barely existed. More breath than word.
His eyes moved—not searching yet. Just… registering.
A collapsed roof.
A cart on its side, one wheel still turning, melting.
A doorway with no house attached to it anymore.
His chest hurt.
Not sharp.
Not sudden.
A dull, spreading pressure that made it harder to stand straight.
This is Ronan, his mind insisted, weakly.
This is home.
Something screamed in the distance.
Cyan flinched so hard his knees almost gave out.
His head snapped toward the sound—but it cut off abruptly, swallowed by a roar of fire. His vision blurred, not from tears yet, but from his eyes refusing to focus.
He took another step.
Then the ground shook.
Not violently.
Heavily.
A shadow passed over him.
Cyan looked up.
Too slow.
Too late.
Three massive shapes descended beyond the flames, wings folding as something vast settled over the village. The heat intensified instantly, the fire reacting like it had been waiting.
His brain rejected the image.
Too big.
Too wrong.
The dragon's heads lowered one by one, firelight reflecting off dark scales. The air vibrated with a low, oppressive presence that made Cyan's teeth chatter uncontrollably.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
His legs finally remembered fear.
They moved.
Cyan turned and ran—not cleanly, not fast. He stumbled downhill, boots slipping on loose dirt and ash. His foot caught on something unseen and he went down hard, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs in a sharp, helpless gasp.
He rolled, skin scraping, vision spinning.
The heat followed.
He pushed himself up on shaking arms, coughing violently, eyes locked on the burning village below.
His village.
His hands trembled.
His chest hurt worse now.
And for the first time since stepping out of the gate dungeon, Cyan understood one thing clearly:
Whatever was happening—
He was too late.
Cyan burst through the shattered wooden wall.
The heat slammed into him immediately, thick and suffocating, stealing the air from his lungs. Flames clawed up the sides of nearby houses, their light flickering wildly as smoke rolled through the streets. Screams echoed from every direction—raw, broken sounds that cut straight through him before his mind could process them.
Children.
People running.
People falling.
His eyes moved frantically, searching through the
chaos, ignoring the pain in his chest.
Mom. Randell. Aris....
He forced himself forward, boots striking scorched earth as debris rained down around him. A burning beam collapsed nearby, embers scattering across his clothes. He leapt over a wall of fire without thinking.
Then—
Something massive tore through the air.
Cyan's head snapped toward it just in time to see a chunk of stone slam into a house, the impact detonating the structure outward in a violent burst of splintered wood and flame.
The ground shook.
Another house began to collapse—too close.
Before Cyan could even react, steel flashed in front of him.
Aris.
She crashed through the smoke, her sword cleaving through falling debris, sparks bursting as burning wood shattered apart. Her armor was dented, scorched, streaked with ash—but she didn't slow, her face covered with scratches and blood.
She grabbed Cyan and pulled him in hard, one arm locking around his chest as she launched them upward.
The explosion behind them hit like a hammer.
Sound vanished.
The world blurred as Aris leapt across rooftops, her movements fast, precise, desperate. Cyan barely felt the impacts—only the pressure of her grip and the violent shaking of the air around them.
His ears rang painfully. His vision tunneled.
Aris shouted something at him.
He didn't hear it.
Everything felt distant, muffled, unreal—like he was underwater.
Then—
Smack.
The sharp sting snapped through him.
His head jerked to the side, vision refocusing as
Aris's face filled his sight. Soot streaked her cheeks, her eyes wide and furious.
"Cyan!" she shouted. "Snap out of it!"
Sound rushed back all at once.
Fire crackling.
Buildings collapsing.
Distant screams—fewer now.
The village was darker than before. The flames still
burned, but the noise was fading, replaced by an awful, unnatural quiet.
Aris gripped his shoulders tightly. "Listen to me," she said, her voice low and urgent. "Find Randell and Mom. Get out. Don't fight. Don't look back."
Her words barely registered.
Cyan's chest ached. His hands shook.
Aris shook him once, hard. "Cyan. Run."
Before he could respond—
A black crescent of aura tore through the air.
Aris reacted instantly, dragging Cyan down as they dove off the rooftop. The slash passed where they had stood, obliterating the building behind them in a single, clean cut.
They hit the ground hard.
Aris cursed under her breath, already moving, her eyes scanning the smoke-filled street.
Then—
Heavy footsteps.
Each one struck the ground with crushing weight, cracks spreading beneath them. The air grew thick, oppressive, pressing down on Cyan's lungs.
A voice followed.
Calm.
Cold.
"Looks like I've been spared the trouble of searching."
A woman stepped through the flames.
Black armor traced with glowing red patterns clung to her form, the designs pulsing slowly, like something alive beneath the metal. Her crimson hair flowed unnaturally, untouched by fire. Her red eyes burned—not with rage, but with bored interest.
Aria.
Behind her, Tyranimite descended.
The dragon's landing shattered the street, wind blasting outward as its massive wings folded. Fire flared higher, lightning crackling faintly along its scales. The sheer pressure of its presence made Cyan's knees weaken.
Orion's voice echoed inside his mind.
Notice: Target identified. Archon of Chaos.
Recommendation: Immediate retreat. Probability of survival: negligible.
Cyan swallowed hard. "Who… is she?" he whispered.
Aria.
High Archon.
Duke of Hell.
Cold settled in his stomach.
Aris stepped forward, placing herself squarely in front of him.
"Stay behind me," she said quietly, raising her sword. "No matter what happens."
Aria tilted her head slightly, unimpressed.
"You're becoming an inconvenience," she said.
Aris met her gaze, jaw set. "Funny. I was thinking the same thing."
For a moment, Aria only stared—then her lips curled faintly, disgust flickering across her expression.
"Careful, human," she said. "You're standing in the way of something inevitable."
The flames surged higher.
And Cyan realized—
This wasn't a battle.
It was an execution waiting to happen.
END OF CHAPTER 14