Chapter 8
The wind howled over the barren landscape as the group trudged forward. After their encounter with Richard, the odd yet resourceful merchant, Caelan decided to throw out the idea that had been swirling in his head for a while now.
"You know, Richard," Caelan began, flashing his usual cheeky grin. "Why don't you just come with us? I mean, talking to shadow creatures all the time has gotta get boring. Plus, you miss selling stuff to actual people, right?"
Richard didn't respond immediately. His cold eyes stared off into the distance, calculating. "You make a point," he said, adjusting the weight of his pack. "The shadow folk aren't exactly… conversationalists."
Caelan pumped his fist in triumph. "Yes! You're in! Told you we're more fun than shadow beasts."
Zaimond threw an arm around Richard's shoulder, smirking. "Welcome aboard, man. We're saving the world or something. I hope you don't mind if your customers are a little… singed after we deal with some dragons."
Richard, unfazed by Zaimond's antics, nodded. "As long as there's business to be had, I'll tag along. You're right. I do miss the human clientele."
Elden gave a reluctant grunt, his mind still preoccupied with the strange events surrounding their journey. "Fine. Let's just get to Rasdogh before more chaos breaks out."
---
Arrival at Rasdogh
After days of relentless travel, they finally stood before Rasdogh—Dragon Vale. The sight before them was both breathtaking and terrifying. Massive, jagged mountains stretched across the horizon, and between the towering peaks, dark clouds churned with ominous energy. And in the skies… shadows moved. The unmistakable forms of dragons—shadow dragons, to be precise—circling like vultures waiting for prey.
"Well, this is cozy," Zaimond remarked, his tone sarcastic. "Nothing like a welcoming committee of flying death lizards."
Caelan, ever the optimist, clapped his hands together. "Alright, people! You know the drill—fight first, ask questions later. Let's show these dragons why they shouldn't mess with us."
The battle that followed was nothing short of epic. Shadow dragons swooped down, claws extended, wings cutting through the air like blades. Elden moved faster than any human had a right to, his sword a blur of light as he slashed through their scaly hides. Zaimond unleashed spells that crackled with energy, explosions and lightning bolts lighting up the darkened skies. Even Richard, usually calm and collected, joined in, throwing alchemical concoctions that burst into flames upon impact.
It was chaotic, dangerous, and exactly the kind of battle that would make legends.
As the last dragon fell, the group stood, panting, surrounded by the bodies of the beasts they had vanquished. Caelan wiped the sweat from his forehead, grinning like a maniac. "I think we can safely say, we're officially badasses."
Zaimond snorted. "Now you're catching on."
---
The Cave of Rul
Once the battlefield had quieted, they made their way deeper into Rasdogh, finally approaching their destination: the cave of Velldora Rul, the ancient Dragon Lord who had ruled during the Age of Void.
The cave entrance was massive, towering over them like the maw of some ancient beast. Its sheer size was enough to make anyone hesitate—anyone except Caelan, of course.
He peered into the darkness, hands on his hips. "So, uh, you think we just… knock?"
Zaimond shook his head, chuckling. "Yeah, knock on a dragon's door. That'll go great."
They stepped inside cautiously, the air growing colder as they ventured further into the depths. The silence was deafening, and yet it carried a strange weight—like the very air was holding its breath in anticipation.
And then they saw him.
In the center of the massive chamber, illuminated by faint torchlight, lay Velldora Rul. But he wasn't exactly what they expected. The legendary Dragon Lord, ruler of an ancient era, looked nothing like the fearsome beast they'd imagined. He wasn't even in his dragon form.
Instead, Velldora lay sprawled on his side, in his humanoid form—a tall, strikingly handsome figure with long white hair that cascaded down his back, and large, curved purple horns that jutted out from his head. His robes were elaborate, shimmering faintly in the dim light. But his posture was anything but regal. He was asleep, face resting on one hand, his body stretched out in the most casual "I'm taking a nap and don't care" pose imaginable.
Caelan's expression dropped, completely dumbfounded. "Wait, this is the guy? The Dragon Lord who ruled the world? Are you kidding me?"
Elden's face twitched, his thoughts whirling. "Is this what happens when you get married? You just… give up?"
Zaimond couldn't stop the grin from forming. "Man's retired. This is what happens when you win too many battles."
Richard, ever the businessman, eyed Velldora thoughtfully. "There's potential profit in this. I wonder how much he'd pay for a blanket."
They stood there for a moment, the silence heavy as they all processed the sight of the dragon hybrid sleeping peacefully, completely oblivious to their presence.
"Well," Caelan said at last, sighing in defeat. "Guess we're gonna have to wake him up."
---
Waking the Dragon
Caelan stepped forward, giving Velldora a nudge with his foot. "Hey, sleepyhead. You've got some world-saving to do."
Velldora stirred, one eye cracking open lazily. He looked up at them with the most uninterested expression imaginable, like a man woken from the best nap of his life. His voice was deep, but soft, as if still half-asleep. "Who… dares… interrupt… my slumber?"
Zaimond threw up his hands in mock fear. "Oh no! The mighty Dragon Lord has been disturbed. Whatever shall we do?"
Velldora blinked, his eyes focusing a bit more. "Ah… humans. And…" His gaze landed on Richard. "Oh, it's you."
Richard gave a half-smirk. "Need anything? Blankets? Food?"
Velldora let out a deep sigh, sitting up slowly, his long hair cascading down his back. "No. But you better have a good reason for waking me."
Caelan grinned, ever the confident one. "We need your help to take down a Demon King. Feel like coming out of retirement?"
Velldora groaned, rubbing his temples. "A Demon King? That's still a thing?"
"Unfortunately," Zaimond said, smirking. "Think of it as a chance to stretch your wings again."
For a moment, Velldora just stared at them, his tired expression not shifting. And then, with another sigh, he stood up, his massive wings stretching out from his back. "Alright. But you're buying me lunch after."
Caelan fist-bumped Zaimond, grinning. "Oh yeah, this is gonna be epic."
The Reluctant Dragon
Velldora stretched out his massive wings, yawning like a man who had just woken from a centuries-long nap. His horns gleamed faintly in the dim light of the cave, and his tired eyes glanced over the group with a faint sense of irritation.
"So, what exactly makes you think I'd bother getting involved in this mess?" he grumbled, his voice a deep rumble that echoed through the cave.
Caelan, as usual, was the first to speak, his grin undeterred by Velldora's disinterest. "C'mon, man, we all know you're the legendary Velldora Rul! The Dragon Lord who ruled the world in the Age of Void! Who wouldn't want to get back into action, fighting evil and—"
Velldora cut him off with a heavy sigh, folding his arms over his chest. "I'm not the dragon I used to be. I've spent enough time fighting wars, only to see them lead to more bloodshed and loss." He turned his gaze away, his expression hardening. "Especially after what humans did to her."
The group went silent for a moment, and it was Zaimond who broke the tension, though his tone was uncharacteristically soft. "Her?"
Velldora's wings sagged slightly, as if the weight of his memories bore down on him. "My wife. She was… everything. But humans took her from me. Slain during their greed-fueled wars. After that, I lost all purpose." His eyes darkened, and he turned away from them, walking deeper into the cave. "That's why I'm here, alone. No more fighting, no more conflict. Just me and my solitude."
Caelan's face fell, his usual energy dimming for the first time. He wasn't good at dealing with heavy stuff like this. "I'm… sorry, man. I didn't know."
Elden shifted uncomfortably, clearly feeling out of place in the conversation, while Richard remained quiet, his gaze unreadable. Zaimond, however, wasn't ready to give up just yet. He stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest in mock confidence.
"Look, Velldora. I get it. Life sucks. People suck. But hiding out in a cave forever? That's no way to honor her memory, man. You think she'd want you to live like this? Bro, if I had the love of my life taken from me, I'd be raising hell across the entire continent, not… well, sitting in a cave and avoiding the world."
Velldora's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't reply immediately. The silence stretched out awkwardly until Caelan chimed in again.
"Yeah, I mean, maybe we're just some random idiots on a dumb mission, but we're fighting for something bigger than ourselves. We've gotta stop these Demon Kings before they tear everything apart. And… if you're not gonna fight, at least help us help people. You know, for her."
Velldora sighed deeply, but this time, there was a slight shift in his expression. He glanced back at them, a flicker of something—perhaps curiosity—crossing his features.
"You're persistent," he said quietly. "But if you want me to come out of this cave, I'll need more than just promises of glory and world-saving. I don't care about any of that anymore."
Zaimond raised an eyebrow, sensing an opening. "What do you want then?"
Velldora turned fully toward them, his imposing figure somehow looking a little less menacing as he spoke. "I want company. I've been alone for so long, I've forgotten what it's like to have… comrades. If you agree to stay with me, to accompany me around Rasdogh for a time, I'll consider joining you. But only if you can stand my presence."
Caelan exchanged glances with Zaimond, Richard, and Elden. The offer was unexpected, but it wasn't like they had many other options. If this was what it took to get Velldora on their side, then so be it.
Caelan shrugged and smiled. "Deal. Honestly, hanging out with a dragon sounds kinda cool anyway."
Zaimond grinned. "Yeah, and we'll make sure you're not bored. Trust me, there's never a dull moment with us."
Velldora's lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. "Very well. But first, I'll show you something… something important." He beckoned for them to follow him, his massive form gliding gracefully toward the back of the cave.
---
The Graveyard of the Forgotten
The group followed Velldora deep into the mountains, the air growing colder and heavier as they ascended. They eventually reached a hidden valley nestled between the peaks, a place that felt untouched by time. The sky above was a swirling mass of dark clouds, casting long shadows over the landscape. And at the center of the valley lay a graveyard—an ancient one, with massive stone markers that stood like silent sentinels.
"These are the graves of the knights and warriors who once fought by my side during the Age of Void," Velldora explained, his voice carrying a quiet reverence. "They were legends in their time, unmatched in skill and loyalty. But they were all lost… forgotten, as the world moved on without them."
Caelan stared at the stone markers, a strange sense of awe and sadness washing over him. "So, these are the heroes that no one talks about anymore?"
Velldora nodded. "Yes. Valrogh, the titan of strength. Yana Houlldenberg, the brilliant tactician. Steinhardt, the indomitable shield. Broxly Zigh Houllberg, a warrior whose fury was unmatched on the battlefield." His voice lowered. "And… my rival. Huei S. The one warrior I could never surpass."
Zaimond whistled, his eyes wide. "Damn. You fought these guys?"
Velldora chuckled softly, though there was a deep sadness in his tone. "I fought alongside them. And when the world changed… I watched them fall, one by one. Now all that remains of them are these stones."
Elden, usually the quiet one, spoke up for the first time. "It's strange. We fight to become legends, but even legends get forgotten."
Velldora nodded solemnly. "Exactly. That's why I withdrew from the world. What's the point of fighting when even the greatest of us fade into obscurity?"
Caelan, his usual lightheartedness returning, stepped up beside Velldora and gave him a playful nudge. "Well, maybe it's not about becoming legends. Maybe it's just about doing the right thing because someone has to."
Zaimond smirked. "And because it's fun as hell to blow stuff up."
Richard, ever the pragmatic one, chimed in. "And because there's profit in chaos."
Velldora looked down at them, his expression softening. For the first time in a long while, the weight of his past seemed to lift, if only a little.
"Perhaps you're right," he said quietly. "Perhaps there's still some meaning left in this world."
Caelan grinned and punched him lightly on the arm. "That's the spirit! Now, let's kick some Demon King butt."
Velldora gave a low chuckle. "Very well. But remember, you're stuck with me now. I'll be watching over you… and this world."
With that, the group turned their backs on the graveyard and began their journey anew, now with a powerful ally in their midst. And though the road ahead was fraught with danger, Caelan and his companions walked forward with renewed purpose.
Because they weren't just fighting for themselves anymore—they were fighting for the forgotten, for those who had come before, and for those who would come after.
And with Velldora Rul by their side, they might just have a chance.
The Weary King
Far to the north, in a desolate fortress surrounded by endless, icy winds, a shadow sat upon a crumbling throne. The dim glow of firelight flickered against the cold, stone walls, casting long, eerie shadows across the room.
Varus K 10, the weakest of the Demon Kings, stared out through the shattered windows, his face pale and gaunt, as though the weight of centuries had pressed down upon his frail body. His once-proud horns, now chipped and worn, curved behind his head like a fading crown of his diminishing power.
"I can feel it," Varus whispered to himself, his voice a mere rasp. "Time… slipping away from me."
He leaned forward, his hands trembling as he gripped the arms of his throne. His eyes, once glowing with malice, now flickered with a mix of fear and exhaustion. His reign had been a long one—too long, perhaps. While the other Demon Kings reveled in their power and chaos, Varus had always known the truth.
He was the weakest.
His gaze drifted toward the moonless sky, dark and foreboding. "I won't last much longer. Not with them on the move… those cursed heroes."
Varus clenched his fists, frustration boiling inside him. He had seen the signs—the movements of his enemies, the whispers of rebellion, and the rising of champions. And now, Velldora Rul, the Dragon Lord, had awoken. That alone signaled the beginning of the end.
"I can't sleep… I can't rest…" His voice cracked, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "Not when death is so near."
He stood slowly, his knees shaking beneath the weight of his weakening body. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one feeling like it might be his last. Despite being a Demon King, fear gnawed at his insides. He was mortal, after all, in ways the others were not.
But even in his weakness, Varus knew he had one thing left—survival. He wouldn't go down without a fight, even if he was the weakest. And if his time was running out, then he would make sure he took as many of them down with him as he could.
"I am Varus K 10," he hissed, straightening his back as much as his failing strength allowed. "The world will not forget me. I will not fade into nothingness."
The wind howled through the fortress, and as Varus turned away from the shattered window, his form flickered like a dying ember.
"I won't be the first to fall."
The camera panned out as the darkness of his fortress consumed him, his silhouette vanishing into the shadows.