Within the grand cathedral towering over the Central City, an elderly priest knelt devoutly before the stone effigy of his deity, his prayers fervent as the ground shook beneath him.
"BOOM—"
The cathedral trembled, bits of rubble raining down from above, dusting the priest's robes. Yet the old cleric remained unfazed, his head bowed lower, prayers intensifying in earnestness.
"THUD—"
The cathedral doors burst open as a young priest stumbled inside, his voice laced with panic: "Your Eminence, a dragon, a dragon! In the skies above Central City, there flies a dragon!"
"Yes, I am aware," replied the archbishop, without turning, his tone serene.
Witnessing the archbishop's lack of reaction, the younger priest grew even more agitated, "Your Eminence, it's no ordinary dragon—it's over three hundred meters long, nothing like the dragons of the mainland!"
"I know..." came the archbishop's unflustered response. "It is a primordial dragon, a demi-god of ancient times. These things I am aware of... Remember, in the presence of the divine, we must be still. This is a church, the kingdom of God on Earth. No irreverence shall be tolerated here."
The young priest's panic subsided into a solemn reverence, beholding the archbishop's unwavering devotion amidst the impending doom brought by the demi-god dragon above.
"Abiel has become a martyr for our church..."
The archbishop's tranquil announcement sent shockwaves through the younger priest, "Abiel, sir, he...?"
The young man quickly composed himself, suppressing his alarm. After all, Abiel was not just anyone; he was the Grand Marshal of the Holy Fleurs-de-lis Knights, a high-ranking legend, and the strongest in Central City. His power alone could conquer cities, but such a towering figure had fallen so swiftly?
The priest felt as though he were in a waking nightmare, the reality too surreal to grasp.
"Fear not. The Pontiff will hold mass for Abiel. He'll ascend to heaven and dwell with God," the archbishop continued, unflappable as ever.
'No, my shock isn't over Abiel's death; it's over my own safety...' thought the young priest, though he dared not voice this out loud.
"What shall we do now, Your Eminence?" The archbishop, as the city's administrative head, was the sole authority in these dire times.
After a brief pause, the archbishop spoke, "Pass along my orders. Tell the soldiers not to resist the dragon. A primordial demi-god is beyond their reach and facing it would be a futile sacrifice. Relay to those who can still move to head to the storeroom. Burn all the reserves of food and strategic materials in Central City."
"Your Eminence, wouldn't that mean... What would the Pontiff say...?" The priest's words trailed off, fear seizing him at the command to abandon the city—a hub too significant to lose without incurring the Pontiff's wrath.
"I will bear the responsibility. Besides, faced with a demi-god dragon, the Pontiff will surely understand our surrender... For centuries, Central City has changed hands countless times—humans, elves, orcs have all reigned. Yet never has a dragon ruled it. Given a dragon's nature and habits, they hold little interest in cities and territories."
"Even in the dragon-allied Kingdom of the North, where contracts with dragons are forged, humans still govern. Once the demi-god dragon has razed Central City, it's likely the elves will claim it. Therefore, we mustn't leave behind any strategic resources. Destroy every weapon and grain, so the church can reclaim the city once the dragon threat subsides."
Hearing the archbishop's strategic foresight, the priest looked on in admiration. This was the trusted leader of the Pontiff!
"Having heard your orders, act swiftly! If the dragon destroys the city and the armory and granaries are intact, the elves will seize them, and reclaiming the city will cost us dearly," the archbishop commanded sternly.
"Understood, I shall convey your commands... What about you, Your Eminence? What will you do?"
"The cathedral's treasury holds treasures and magical artifacts we cannot take with us. Dragons, greedy for wealth, will not overlook such a trove. You should escape first."
The priest's face fell into sorrow, mistaking the archbishop's intentions for a sacrifice to delay the dragon.
Realizing the misunderstanding, the archbishop gave the priest a stern look, "Quit your wild fantasies. I'll leave through the secret passage and teleport away once I'm beyond the demi-god's domain. Don't worry about me, run as far as you can."
Thinking of his elevated status in the church and the comforts yet to be enjoyed, the archbishop had no intention of dying here.
The priest, his face darkening, realized the archbishop's true motive was to use them as a distraction for his escape. With a respectful but heavy heart, he left to carry out the archbishop's orders.
Once alone, the senior cleric sprang into action, moving with an agility that belied his age, racing toward the church's hidden exit.
...
Meanwhile, "Pyroclastic Flow" had pierced the city's defenses. A rain of fire descended like a brilliant cascade, engulfing the city in a display of destruction that outshone any festival's fireworks. It was a cataclysm as Drake descended from the heavens, reducing the city to ruins in the blink of an eye.