The dragon finally made its first move. It opened its mouth, unleashing a torrent of dark purplish energy. The sky blackened under the force of it, only darkness shining through. I thought the seven figures were done for. No one could survive a beam as powerful as that.
But they were ready.
The one with the massive shield stepped forward without hesitation, his stance steady and unyielding. With a grunt, he lifted the shield just in time, blocking the dragon's dark breath head-on. He didn't just stop it; he absorbed it into his shield.
The impact was powerful enough to send shockwaves across the field, but the shield held firm. However, the dragon's attack did not stop either, eventually dragging the figure back slightly. I guess the dragon had endless energy.
Then, without warning, the figure raised his hand, making a strange gesture, and the single shield split—not broken by the attack but willingly divided into seven, each hovering around him like protective sentinels.
The shields moved effortlessly, as if they were limbs of his body, gliding through the air. He controlled them all simultaneously, each one glowing with a faint light as they danced around the battlefield. It was a sight to behold—perfect coordination, effortless grace in the face of sheer destruction.
But the dragon wasn't done. Its eyes flared as it gathered more dark energy for another blast, but before it could strike, another figure moved—a tall, elegant figure wielding a green, feather-like bow, nearly as tall as he was.
The figure drew back the bowstring, taking a deep breath, his eyes closed. When they opened again, they were burning with a green flare. He started materializing an arrow from thin air, crackling with energy. But it wasn't just any arrow. As he released it, the arrow transformed mid-flight, taking the shape of a green bird. It soared through the air with terrifying speed, crackling with raw power, but the dragon was quicker than it appeared.
With a powerful beat of its wings, the dragon deflected the bird with a swipe of its claw, sending it crashing harmlessly into the snow.
The figure didn't flinch. His eyes narrowed, and the bird that had fallen to the ground started moving again. With lightning speed, it struck the dragon, but to no avail.
The figures were beginning to push back against the dragon's onslaught, yet something told me they hadn't revealed their full strength. Especially the leader—the one wielding the golden sword still stood there, unmoving, his eyes locked on the dragon. But I could feel it—a tension building in the air around him. He was gathering energy, pulling it into his sword, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Before he could act, however, two more figures finally joined the fray. Both of them spread their wings—one with the leathery wings of a bat, dark and ominous, and the other with radiant, angelic wings that seemed to glow with a soft, golden light.
They took to the sky in unison, soaring upward with effortless grace. It was like watching an angel and a demon fly side by side, their wings cutting through the air with precision. One stopped above the other figures, while the other flew toward the dragon.
The one with the angelic wings spread them wide, casting a radiant yellow light over the battlefield. In an instant, yellow dust bathed the other figures in its glow.
It was a buff.
Their movements became sharper, faster, as the light infused them with new strength.
Meanwhile, the figure with bat-like wings flew higher toward the dragon, his hands weaving intricate symbols in the air. He was casting some sort of spell, and the ground beneath us began to shift. The snowy land beneath the dragon cracked open, revealing something dark and ancient stirring below.
Malice, like lava, seeped from the cracks, and from these openings, black chains—thick as tree trunks—erupted. They coiled and snaked toward the dragon, wrapping around its massive limbs, binding it, pulling it down toward the earth. The dragon roared in fury, thrashing against the chains, but the spell held strong, constantly reinforcing itself with dark energy.
For the first time, the dragon looked... trapped.
The seven figures were slowly pushing the beast back, bit by bit, and yet there was still a sense of restraint. The leader, the one with the golden sword, still hadn't moved, and behind him stood another figure, overshadowed by the leader's presence, yet completely still, as if waiting for something.
And me? I stood there, just a spectator, helpless in the face of the chaos erupting around me. The air crackled with magic, the sky was torn, and the ground trembled beneath my feet.
How much longer could this go on? How much power were these figures still holding back?
My gaze fell on the leader again. His sword was glowing brighter now, the energy around him almost tangible, swirling like a storm waiting to be unleashed.
So many questions lingered in my mind, heavy and unspoken: Who... or what...?
"What you are seeing now is a historical battle, fought by the Seven Heroes of Virtue against the Primordial Chaos Dragon. That's what the people of that world say."
And for the first time, a voice answered me—not in my head, but from the white cat, the same white cat that had led me here. I had almost forgotten about it amidst all the chaos. It was sitting right beside me, licking its paws, completely unfazed by the spectacle in front of us.
I blinked. Did this cat just read my mind?
"Isn't it obvious?" the cat replied, looking mildly annoyed. "This is all you are allowed to see. It's more than enough. You wouldn't be able to comprehend the rest, judging by that dumb look on your face."
Before I could even ask, the cat answered. As always, just what I needed.
But wait!
If you can read my mind, can you tell something about my missing memories?