Amphere Harrison
The culmination of all the Dracaryx attacks coalesced into a resplendent astral manifestation - the visage of a majestic blue dragon. Its ethereal head let loose a deafening roar as it surged forward, breaching through the colossal form of the Necross Dragon. This otherworldly encounter resulted in the Necross Dragon dissolving into a cascade of minute particles, dissipating into the ether. An explosive eruption followed suit, accompanied by a dazzling eruption of light, leaving an indelible mark on the observers.
The detonation resonated with an intensity unparalleled, reminiscent of the thunderous echoes caused by atomic bombs capable of piercing through the sound barrier and inducing sonic booms. The context of this spectacle, set within a battlefield, made such explosive phenomena a rarity in human experience. This final, desperate attempt at assault had undeniably found its mark upon the colossal demon, leaving an enduring impact.
The release of Dracaryx precipitated a transformation in all the dragons allied on our side, reverting them to their humanoid forms - an excepted fate, barring the Savior Dragon, upon which I remained astride. Uncertainty loomed regarding the protocols governing the Crimson Dragonfly dragon's interaction with another Dracaryx. The extent of my empowerment at this moment could hardly be overstated.
The onslaught of superior attacks, unleashed with unwavering determination upon the gargantuan Necross Dragon, defied mere description. The synchronization of our hearts' harmonics elicited the demon god's body to liquefy akin to Styrofoam exposed to a roaring bonfire. What remained of the once imposing form was a partially preserved lower body, as the upper part metamorphosed into a grotesque assortment of bones and charred flesh. His exposed spines bore a dark crimson hue, tainted by the splattered blood, while fragments of his skull peeked through the veil of destruction. Most strikingly, the heart, a colossal obsidian entity, lay exposed - a grim emblem of his vulnerability.
"Act now!" Estoff's directive rang out, barely necessary in the midst of the overwhelming urgency. Determination surged within me; even in the absence of his command, I would have acted. The Savior Dragon's wings unfurled, revealing photon boosters emitting a luminous azure radiance. With a swift maneuver, we surged forward, bridging the gap to a distance aligned with my dragon's sword range.
"Dracaryx! Activate Requiem Aeternam!" The command echoed with urgency, charging the air with fervor and purpose.
Rising above, the Savior Dragon wielded an ancient golden sword aloft, its engraved runes emitting an eerie crimson luminescence. The blade metamorphosed, swathed in the embrace of a pristine white flame, as our strike cleaved through the ebony expanse of the colossal heart. A brilliant, soundless radiance enveloped the heavens, as if dawn itself were momentarily mistaken for.
The luminance gradually waned, unveiling an absence where the formidable Necross Dragon once loomed. A tabula rasa of obliteration spread before us. Solely Yuri Dragunov endured, perched atop the infernal cathedral, a spectator to the cataclysmic conflict. However, Dragunov's countenance bore no astonishment; rather, an air of indifference tainted his expression.
"Simpleton! You squandered your strength upon a fragment of Necross! He is beyond mortality! For..."
In an instant, a crimson bolt of lightning descended from above, its origin tracing back to the depths of the Underworld planet. The bolt struck the zenith of the cathedral, mere meters behind the deranged duke. A revelation unfolded - Nox/Necross stood forth, his renewed form untouched by the ravages of combat. A sardonic smile graced his features, a sinister echo of our prior encounters.
It dawned upon us that this war, however valiant, had been an exercise in futility. The demon before us was an immortal, his regenerative prowess nullifying any notion of victory. Even the prospect of a perfect, swift execution would be rendered inconsequential by his rapid revival. The weight of hopelessness pressed upon us, overshadowing the fray.
"Dragunov." Necross seized the attention of the maniacal duke. As Dragunov pivoted, a harrowing fate awaited him - impaled through the heart by the colossal broadsword, his malevolent allegiance was rewarded with a swift betrayal. The sheer force of the impact crushed his upper body, severing his left shoulder and arm, leaving a tableau of gruesome devastation in its wake.
"I've grown weary of awaiting the final tally of kills," Necross chuckled once again, his laughter a chilling underscore to the macabre scene. "Rest assured, I intend to honor our agreement. In a matter of minutes, you'll be reunited with your parents, spouse, and children. In the realms of the Underworld."
A feeble attempt to speak manifested in Dragunov, but his utterance was stifled as a torrent of blood erupted from his lips, staining the ground in crimson splatters. Necross retrieved his sword, allowing the lifeless form of the old man to kiss the earth in a final, grotesque embrace.
Then, an eerie transformation overtook Necross, his eyes eclipsed entirely by blackness. With resolute intent, he plunged his own broadsword into his chest, an act that birthed a shrouding miasma of darkness, enveloping his entirety.
"Let us conclude this, here and now, Eye of Deus!" The proclamation reverberated, a clarion call for the cataclysmic event that would follow.
The activation of "Necross Pulse" resonated with a dual detonation, a percussive crescendo echoing across the globe. Three seconds of stark silence ensued, abruptly shattered by a rhythmic pounding. This resounding heartbeat wasn't terrestrial in origin, but rather, celestial - emanating from the very core of the Underworld. Each beat precipitated a vivid shockwave, akin to the ethereal dance of the aurora borealis, as the rings of the red planet swirled with a cascade of hues.
The Underworld underwent a transformation, its gradual dimming and corruption mirroring a descent into sinistral malevolence. An escalating tempo accompanied the deepening darkness, as if the planet itself were being transmuted into a vessel of malefic energy.
A suspicion formed within me, and as if attuned to my thoughts, Necross responded, his voice an eerie whisper. "Indeed. The Underworld constitutes the very heart of hell, a distillation of malevolence and sin. It embodies the very essence of wickedness, a tangible manifestation of the collective unconscious harbored by the departed souls traversing these forsaken lands."
Necross's corporeal form gradually dissolved, transmuting into a cascade of ashes that dispersed and became one with the descending planet. The immense gravitational force exerted by the Underworld was inescapable, tugging even at the colossal form of the Savior Dragon. Its impending fate was interwoven with the impending cosmic upheaval.
A resounding proclamation reverberated within our minds, a telepathic resonance borne from the very planet itself. The message seared through our consciousness, inducing an agonizing sensation that gripped our heads. The mighty Savior Dragon, affected profoundly, unleashed a thunderous roar, its vocalizations embodying the distress that rippled through us all. In the wake of this psychic assault, the Crimson Dragonfly's enchantment wavered, stripping Airi and Exceria of their draconic forms, returning them to their human guises.
Gradually, the planet underwent an astonishing metamorphosis, adopting the semblance of an enlarged iteration of the Necross Dragon. Its colossal proportions were planetary in scale, a somber testament to its unfathomable power. While shrouded by the obsidian skies, the dragon's colossal silhouette sufficed to underscore its godlike might.
Though positioned a thousand kilometers distant, a gnawing sense of inadequacy pervaded our being. The planetary dragon radiated an aura of supremacy, capable of decimating the world with a mere gesture. The stark incongruence dawned upon me - my aspiration had been for a world wherein dragonoids could flourish in peace, devoid of conflict. Yet, faced with this looming, unholy deity, the mandate to thwart it seemed insurmountable.
As if to amplify the cacophony of despair, the cries of countless souls echoed through the tenuous atmosphere. Obscure dots emerged against the firmament, tracing their descent from the heavens above. A chilling realization soon materialized - these minuscule forms were an infinite horde of zombies, hurtling towards us from the ionosphere, an inexorable tide of undeath cascading forth from the planetary dragon's domain.
"The legion of undead dragon knights, destined to reap carnage upon the realm of the living, has materialized!"
Moving to rejoin my companions, I observed the telltale signs etched onto their countenances - a somber blend of apprehension, tension, and fear. Their reactions spanned a spectrum, from stifled nervousness to beads of perspiration resembling a torrential downpour. A common thread, however, was the undeniable chill that gripped our spines and the icy shroud draped upon our limbs. Necross Ascension had unveiled its true potency, ensnaring us in its implacable grasp, a realization that dawned with haunting finality.
Cleru's voice, tinged with a mixture of incredulity and dread, broke the uneasy silence. "Are those stars... our adversaries?"
The truth was graver than stars; those luminescent entities, once human but now suffused with an unholy light, conveyed a singular message. Their glimmering forms were the incarnation of Vesryn Pulse, a manifestation that transcended mere hordes or even empires. We were pitted against an amalgamation of souls, an assemblage of dragon knights that spanned the breadth of history, uniting in a singular purpose.
Within the ensuing tempest of chaos, a bitter reality unfurled before us. We stood poised to confront dragon knights who had once lived and perished, their spirits now rekindled within an ungodly host, a maelstrom of retribution made manifest.