"Father?! You're still alive?!"
The words ripped from my throat, a raw, strangled cry.
The icy tang of fear coated my tongue.
Sylvana recoiled, her eyes wide with a terror that mirrored my own, but Rhaegar – my father – remained unnervingly calm, a predatory stillness in his gaze that suggested this revelation was merely a pawn in a game he'd already won.
He remained silent, a suffocating weight hanging in the air, thick as the stench of ozone crackling from the nascent ice magic building in my hands.
The silence screamed.
It was a betrayal of the deafening questions that clawed at my mind, a maelstrom of disbelief churning in my gut.
*The Legendary Sorcerer. My father. A human*.
The words themselves felt like shards of glass, embedding themselves in my soul.
The implications slammed into me with the brutal force of a physical blow.
The system's quests, the monsters I'd faced – each a twisted reflection of him, the cursed Zeta's apprentice, just like me.
My own blood, a conduit for a power I'd wielded against him, unknowingly.
The nauseating truth twisted my insides.
"Answer me, dammit!" My voice shattered, a fractured thing barely audible over the roar in my ears as I hurled an Ice Javelin, a desperate, uncontrolled blast of raw power.
He barely flinched, his obsidian blade a blur, slicing the projectiles into glittering fragments of ice that scattered like shattered memories.
"Surprised? I expected as much," his voice was a low, silken caress, laced with the bitter steel of contempt.
"But your power... it confirms the opportune moment to reveal this truth. You are ready, Alstair."
"Ready for what?!" The words were a roar, a ragged scream that tore through the suffocating calm. "Don't you understand?! Mother… Arlene… they're dying! Comatose, fading away, and I need the miracle water to create remedies for them, the only thing that can save them! You have to understand!" The taste of my own rage was metallic and bitter.
He nodded, a flicker of something like sorrow crossing his face, then vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the glacial indifference I'd come to dread. "Your concern is… understandable, Alstair. But there are matters far larger than the fate of loved ones. This world – human and monster alike – is a battleground, a maelstrom of forces demanding strength and sacrifice. A strength even the most improbable path can forge."
"Suffering nonsense?! We all suffer! You think I don't know the world is crumbling, that monsters swarm from the rifts? That they're tearing at my family, at me? I'll fight them. I'll sell my soul to the damned Zeta himself – I'll bear this curse, I'll embrace the darkness, if it keeps my family safe! I swear it! I'll do it all, Father!"
My voice cracked, raw and spent, but my resolve, forged in the crucible of despair, remained unyielding.
The truth was a bitter pill, but I would swallow it whole, for them.
For the ones I loved.
"Good. You're aware of this world's cruel, gnawing hunger. You want to save Rayanna and Arlene, but wanting won't tear them from the jaws of death. Action is the only prayer answered here," Rhaegar snarled, the obsidian blade a gleam of predatory intent in the sickly light.
His mana, a tempest banked and ready, crackled around him.
"Test me? After all you've done? You, father? Your mind's rotted by this cursed realm, warped by its endless cruelty! I'll prove you wrong – right here, right now! Bring it, on!" The words were a guttural roar, the defiance burning a wildfire in my chest.
My rage, a living thing, clawed its way out.
Lythandor's fragment throbbed, a conduit for the raw power I channeled.
Elanor's spectral form materialized beside me, her Blade of Fire a searing crimson. The scent of ozone and scorched earth filled the air.
"Alstair, I'm with you," Elanor hissed, her voice a whisper of burning embers. Sylvana's icy presence materialized beside Elanor, her spectral Blade of Ice shimmering, a counterpoint to the fiery inferno.
The biting chill of her blade mingled with the suffocating heat of Elanor's, a chaotic symphony of power.
"Brace yourselves. This is a bloodbath," I ground out, the taste of iron already thick in my mouth.
This wasn't just a fight; it was a gut-wrenching, soul-shredding act of vengeance.
Sylvana's ice and Elanor's fire wove a protective spell around me, a shield against the coming storm.
My magical strength surged, amplified to an almost unbearable level.
Then, my command: "Engage!" Elanor and Sylvana were a whirlwind of incandescent fury and glacial terror, their blades a blur against Rhaegar's obsidian weapon.
The clash of steel was a deafening roar, punctuated by the crackle of fire, the shriek of ice, and the agonizing screech of obsidian rending stone.
The very ground trembled under the force of their battle; the air itself thrummed with the violence of it all.
While Rhaegar's attention was locked in that savage dance, I vanished.
Air Walk carried me upwards; the familiar prickling of magic wrapped around me.
Then, the shroud of the elven robe – invisibility.
The world below shrunk, the sounds of battle fading to a dull roar.
Above, two titans patrolled the sky – Raellyn, the Storm Bringer, and Gale, the Eclipse Claw.
I moved like a wraith through the wind, my only sound the whisper of magic.
Positioning myself between them, I activated Magical Magnification.
The risk was immense – the spell shattered my invisibility – but the payoff would be catastrophic.
My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
The dragons were unaware… yet.
The next moment would decide everything.
The instant Raellyn and Gale registered my presence, a primal scream ripped from their throats, a sound that clawed at my very soul.
Their assault was a symphony of fury.
From Raellyn's maw, a jagged bolt of lightning, smelling ozone and fear, lanced forth.
Simultaneously, Gale's wings, a blur of motion, whipped up a howling vortex of wind, icy and sharp as shattered glass against my skin.
The combined attack, a raw, untamed tempest, slammed into my magical barrier.
The impact resonated through my bones, a physical blow that echoed the desperate gamble they'd made.
I felt the barrier shudder, the acrid scent of scorched magic stinging my nostrils, the taste of fear metallic on my tongue.
But their desperate bid for dominance was nothing compared to the power I wielded.
I wouldn't yield; surrender was a word etched in the dust of forgotten battles.
These arrogant dragons had chosen the wrong foe.
With a guttural roar that matched their own, I raised my Dragon Scepter, the cold obsidian a stark contrast to the inferno brewing within me.
The Fire Storm spell, a culmination of years of relentless training, pulsed with searing power, a sun about to erupt in a supernova.
In the blink of an eye, the spell unleashed its fury.
A maelstrom of incandescent fire, a raging vortex of searing heat and crackling energy, erupted, swallowing the gloomy sky in a pyre of crimson and gold.
The heat was a physical entity, a wave of pure destruction that washed over Raellyn and Gale before they could even complete their attacks.
Their enraged roars turned into choked screams as the inferno consumed them; the air itself crackled with the agony of their burning flesh.
The stench of roasting muscle and singed feathers filled the air, a grim testament to their defeat.
Their wings, once symbols of power and majesty, were reduced to blackened, crumbling ashes.
They plummeted to the earth, two charred carcasses crashing in a deafening thud that vibrated through the very ground beneath my feet.
A silence, heavy with the weight of absolute victory, descended before the system's cold, clinical notification shattered the stillness.
> You get 500.000 Monster Diamonds!
> You get a Fragment of Dragon Souls (x1)!
> You get 500.000 Monster Diamonds!
> You get a Fragment of Dragon Souls (x1)
Two dragons, incinerated in a single, searing strike!
The acrid stench of burnt scales still clung to the air, a grim testament to my power.
The twin glint of the loot – a fleeting distraction.
Rhaegar and Astra, the Crimson Dragon – *those* were the true prizes.
My boots slammed against the earth, the jarring impact a counterpoint to the screaming that ripped through the air – Elanor and Sylvana, their voices ragged, torn with pain.
I'd felt the tremors of their failing defenses even from the sky.
Landing, I saw them materialize beside me, ethereal wisps of their former selves, their spectral forms flickering like dying embers.
Rhaegar's obsidian blade had carved deep, leaving them skeletal, fractured echoes of the warriors they were.
"Alstair," Elanor gasped, her voice a dry rasp, "He's…unstoppable." Sylvana's whispered agreement was edged with the cold dread that iced my own veins.
Rhaegar stood calmly amidst the devastation, a predator surveying its kill.
His eyes, chips of obsidian mirroring the blade that had nearly shattered Elanor and Sylvana, held a chilling calm that spoke of terrible power.
He was a storm waiting to break.
Then, he moved.
The air itself crackled with arcane energy as he summoned his spell, a swirling maelstrom of magical force coalescing into hundreds of shimmering, razor-sharp beams.
The memory of those blades obliterating the Hydra Dragon, the chilling echo of its icy death throes, sent a spike of pure terror through me.
"I await you in the heavens," Rhaegar hissed, his voice dripping venom, "Let us see who truly commands the storm." He launched himself skyward, the ground trembling beneath the unleashed fury of his spell.
But the heavens were no sanctuary.
Astra, a crimson inferno incarnate, sensed my presence, a roaring bellow shaking the very foundations of reality as a tidal wave of fire erupted, a scorching hellfire intent on consuming everything in its path.
My frost magic, my only defense, hissed and shrank against the unyielding heat, melting away like snow in a furnace.
There was nowhere to hide, no escape from the inferno above or the obliterating beams below.
Elanor's voice, a terrified squeak, pierced the roaring flames. "Alstair… what do we do?"
Sylvana's warning was a stark echo of my own desperate thoughts. "We need to act… now!"
My lifeblood pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs, the taste of fear bitter on my tongue.
Death loomed, a tangible entity.
But the vow I made, the promise to bring Rhaegar to his knees, to force him to confront his monstrous betrayal of family and love – that vow fueled me, hardened my resolve.
"Elanor! Sylvana! Magic buffs! Now!"
My voice rang with a desperate command, the sheer urgency of it a lifeline in the maelstrom of fire and impending doom.
Their magic surged into me, a torrent of raw power that reignited my failing hope. Elanor's blade of fire, Sylvana's icy fury, intensified my own.
The Magical Magnification spell flared, and I fortified my magical barrier, layering it with their buffs.
The Fire Pillar erupted – five times its usual strength, a final, desperate stand against the encroaching hell.
Gaia's Endowment power surged through me, a wildfire in my veins, driving me south towards the inferno Astra the Crimson Dragon unleashed.
The air crackled with heat, a tangible wall of fire rising like a monstrous, incandescent wave poised to obliterate all in its path.
The stench of burning earth and ozone filled my nostrils, choking me with its intensity.
My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a deafening drumbeat against the roar of the approaching flames.
The fiery tsunami crashed down, a searing, blinding eruption that threatened to vaporize me.
But the Fire Pillar, my shield, held.
It wasn't just a barrier; it was a cage of defiance forged in magic, fueled by Elanor and Sylvana's enchantments and amplified by my own desperate will.
Even as the heat warped my vision – a blurry, crimson kaleidoscope – and the pillar groaned under the unimaginable pressure, cracking and splintering like brittle bone, I pushed forward.
The taste of ash and fear coated my tongue, but retreat was unthinkable.
I was a speck, a tiny, defiant insect amidst the dragon's furious storm.
The incessant cracking of my barrier, a symphony of impending doom, was lost in the cacophony of the inferno.
My ears, ringing from the dragon's raw power, began to pick up a new sound – the guttural rasp of its breath, growing louder, closer.
The pulse of its colossal heart, a dreadful thrumming that resonated in my very bones, told me Astra was near.
Then, a momentary respite.
The wave receded, a fleeting glimpse of clarity through the smoke and flame. Twenty feet away, Astra, a colossus of crimson scales and burning fury, materialized.
He was a mountain of muscle and fire, his eyes twin embers of malevolent intelligence.
He was surprised.
He hadn't anticipated this – my insane, suicidal dash through his very breath.
His surprise was brief.
A feral roar ripped from his throat, a promise of annihilation, as he opened his jaws, intending to unleash another torrent of hellfire.
But I was faster.
With a guttural scream of my own – a primal, desperate yell fueled by adrenaline and the raw force of Gaia's blessing – I launched myself forward, a desperate gamble, a headlong plunge into the dragon's gaping maw.
His teeth snapped shut, a metallic clang, aimed at pulverizing whatever dared trespass into his domain.
But I was already inside, a tiny, defiant spark in the heart of the beast's fiery inferno, swallowed by the crimson darkness of his throat.
The battle was far from over.
His teeth, incandescent daggers, gnawed at my Fire Pillar, the searing heat fracturing my magical barrier with agonizing speed.
The tidal wave of dragonfire was a mere prelude to this agonizing pressure; it felt as if my very soul was being scorched.
"Alstair! You insane fool!" Elanor's shriek, thin and reedy with terror, cut through the inferno.
Her fear, a palpable thing, clawed at me.
I could almost taste it – metallic, like blood.
"Alstair! Get out of there! You'll be ash!" Sylvana's voice, usually so calm and soothing, cracked with disbelief, a desperate tremor in its normally unwavering strength.
I knew their fear wasn't unfounded.
But the alternative – surrender, annihilation – was a fate far worse than fiery oblivion.
This was my last gamble.
> Power Collected from Fire Pillar had reached Maximum!
> Fire Pilgrim is ready to use!
Fire Pillar, more than just a shield, was a crucible, absorbing the dragon's fury and forging it into a weapon of terrifying power.
The dragon's breath had been a furnace, and my barrier, the ore, now white-hot and ready to burst forth.
My Dragon Scepter throbbed, a crimson heart beating in my grip.
The red light, a malevolent eye, pulsed with the gathered energy – the potential for annihilation.
There was no time for second-guessing, no room for doubt.
With a guttural roar, I unleashed Fire Pilgrim.
The world exploded.
The air itself screamed as the counter-attack ripped through my defenses, a blinding maelstrom of searing light and shattering sound.
The smell of ozone and singed flesh filled my nostrils. Astra, the Crimson Flare Dragon, a horrifying tapestry of muscle and scale, roared in defiance.
But the roar died in his throat as the explosion ripped through him.
The image seared itself into my memory – the horrifying crunch of bone, the sudden gaping maw where once there were teeth, the crimson bloom blossoming across his neck where the blast had torn through.
His screams, the sound of a dying god, were swallowed by the thunderous eruption.
Then, silence.
A deafening, horrifying silence, broken only by the crackle of my shattered barrier and the heavy thud of the dragon's body hitting the earth.
The stench of burnt flesh and ozone hung heavy in the air, a suffocating miasma.
My barrier was in ruins, a testament to the fury I had unleashed.
But Astra, the Crimson Flare Dragon, lay broken before me, his eyes closed in death, his breath finally stilled.
The silence pulsed with the victory – a grim, bitter victory that tasted of ash and blood.
The system notifications – cold, clinical pronouncements of success – were a pathetic counterpoint to the brutal symphony of destruction that had just ended.
> You get 500.000 Monster Diamonds!
> You get Dragon Souls (x1)!
Three dragons, scorched and lifeless, lay at my feet.
The acrid stench of burnt scales filled my nostrils, a bitter tang clinging to the back of my throat.
Eleanor and Sylvana, their faces pale but resolute, landed beside me, the whisper of their wings a fragile counterpoint to the roaring in my ears.
Their smiles, though strained, were anchors in the maelstrom of my adrenaline-soaked senses.
But the respite was a lie.
The fiery crimson of my Fire Storm had been swallowed by an encroaching darkness, a suffocating blanket of night pierced by thousands of incandescent lines.
Magical beam swords, each a searing spear of light, hung suspended in the air above the ruined tower – a celestial tempest poised to unleash its fury.
The very air crackled with anticipation, a palpable hum vibrating through my bones.
Rhaegar's voice, a thunderclap splitting the silence, boomed down from the heavens.
"Congratulations on your… introductory victory. The true test begins now. Face this storm, Alstair! Prove your vaunted heroism worthy of saving your family!" His laughter, cold and cruel as glacial ice, echoed across the desolate rooftop.
The sheer power of those magical beams, a force I barely comprehended as a sorcerer, chilled me to the core.
I saw it reflected in Eleanor and Sylvana's eyes – the stark terror masked by grim determination.
They understood the annihilation those swords promised, their mastery of the very same spell making their fear all the more potent.
"Alstair," Eleanor gasped, her voice tight with urgency, "I've never witnessed such… creation. A sorcerer capable of summoning that many full-power beams… he's a monster!"
Sylvana's voice, usually soft and soothing, was edged with steel. "He's a threat unlike any we've faced. Those beams could obliterate this entire floor. He may be taunting us, but his power… it's undeniable. Choose wisely, Alstair. Your life, and ours, hang in the balance."
Was Rhaegar insane enough to raze the Abandoned Tower?
Perhaps.
But the lethal beauty of those descending swords left no room for doubt – this was no mere threat.
This was execution.
Time compressed.
My mind, a whirlwind of calculations, seized on a desperate strategy.
There was no time for counter-spells.
Only defense.
With a guttural roar, I channeled my power, casting Magical Magnification, bolstering my Magical Barrier to thrice its normal strength.
It shimmered, a fragile dome against a maelstrom of impending doom.
Then, a flicker of hope.
Eleanor and Sylvana, their faces grim and resolute, unleashed their own volley of magical beam swords.
Fewer in number, far fewer, but imbued with their potent skill and unwavering courage.
They became a whirlwind of light around me, a desperate dance of defiance against the descending storm, shielding me from the inevitable.
The battle for survival had begun.
"Leave it to us, Alstair! We'll shield you," Elanor hissed, her voice tight with a bravery that trembled at the edges.
Sylvana, her face a mask of grim determination, added, a low growl vibrating in her chest, "Focus on your spell. We'll hold the line."
But the icy grip of dread had already clamped around my heart.
I'd seen Rhaegar's beam sword – a sun-splitting lance that had obliterated a hydra dragon in a single, incandescent flash.
Elanor and Sylvana were brave, yes, but they were lambs to this slaughter.
"No!"
My shout ripped through the air, a desperate counterpoint to the rising whine of approaching destruction.
"Defend yourselves! Now! Elanor! Sylvana! Get behind my barrier!" I flung out my hands, the air crackling with the raw power I summoned, a shimmering dome of protective magic expanding to encompass them.
Their confusion was a fleeting flicker in the face of the oncoming storm.
Rhaegar unleashed hell.
A torrential downpour of magical beam swords, each a searing shaft of light, erupted – a celestial plague descending upon us.
The air itself screamed, a symphony of shattering magic and searing heat.
The stench of ozone filled my nostrils as the first volley struck.
Elanor and Sylvana's counter-attack was a desperate ballet of ice and fire, their blades a blur, but the onslaught was too relentless.
Hundreds of their own enchanted blades, crafted together with meticulous care, exploded into motes of glittering dust, consumed by the sheer ferocity of Rhaegar's assault.
The remaining swords slammed into my barrier, a thousand hammers against glass.
The magical dome groaned, buckled, then fractured.
The searing heat scorched my skin, the deafening roar a physical blow.
The remaining swords pierced through, impaling Elanor and Sylvana, their screams a heart-wrenching symphony of agony.
The light of those swords seared their spiritual forms, a pain that echoed cruelly in their physical bodies.
My own strength ebbed with theirs, the weight of their suffering a crushing burden.
They were only spiritual projections, thank the gods, but the agonizing cries were real, as real as the trails of searing light that branded their ethereal forms.
A wave of nausea washed over me.
They were helpless, pinned, their bodies a grotesque tapestry of searing wounds.
"Elanor! Sylvana!" My voice was raw, a strangled cry lost in the tempest of destruction.
But only their pained moans answered.
The support I had so desperately needed, vanished.
Gone.
The rain of swords continued, an endless barrage, each strike a cruel reminder of my own powerlessness.
Hundreds...thousands… I couldn't count.
My barrier held, but for how long?
It was a gamble, a desperate wager against the exhaustion of Rhaegar's magic or the complete annihilation of my defenses.
One of us would break – and I feared, with chilling certainty, which one it would be.
"Your elf comrade fell, Alstair," Rhaegar sneered, the word dripping with venomous contempt. "You preach about family, about protection, yet you couldn't shield the one beside you, the one with power. How dare you invoke such weighty vows when you're this… pathetic?"
The jeer hung in the air, a tangible thing, sharp as shattered obsidian.
The truth, bitter and bile-coated, choked me.
Elanor.
Sylvana.
Their faces, pale and lifeless, flickered behind my eyelids.
Dead if I failed.
The thought, a red-hot brand, seared my soul.
I wouldn't sacrifice them to my own inadequacy!
I wouldn't be the weakling who dragged my friends into the abyss!
My breath hitched.
Eyes of the Sorcerer, a desperate gamble.
One spell left.
The agonizing headache, the potential nerve damage – a price I was willing to pay.
Mana Drain.
I unleashed it, a desperate prayer against the storm.
Rhaegar's magical beam swords, a blinding, torrential downpour of emerald light, had been relentless.
Thousands of them, each a death sentence.
But now… the storm faltered.
I felt the leeching power of my spell, draining the lifeblood of his magic. Thousands dwindled to hundreds, then dozens.
My success was a fleeting victory.
The incessant barrage had eroded my magical barrier; its shimmering surface was a spiderweb of cracks, a testament to the relentless assault.
Then came the breach.
A searing comet of emerald fire ripped through my defenses, carving a furrow of agony across my shoulder.
Another followed, slamming into my thigh, driving me to my knees.
The ground tasted of blood and dirt.
A scream tore from my lips, a raw, guttural sound as the remaining swords lashed at my back, a devastating storm of emerald death.
My barrier shattered, I was engulfed, a human target in a hurricane of light.
I knelt, blood blooming across the ravaged earth, each ragged breath a burning agony.
The health potion, bitter and metallic, did little to soothe the searing pain; 23% of my life force remained.
A grim, sickening reminder of my mortality.
Silence.
The emerald rain ceased.
Rhaegar, still perched in the sky, was a grim monument to victory.
The obsidian sword in his hand, no longer pulsing with magical energy, mirrored my own exhaustion.
His power, depleted.
Mine, almost spent.
The battle was far from over, but for the first time, I saw a flicker of hope amidst the ruin.
"You're still breathing, Alstair? My beam sword… barely a scratch. Interesting." Rhaegar's voice dripped with disdain, his glacial blue eyes boring into me, a predator sizing up its prey.
The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth, a coppery scream against the agony ripping through my thigh.
My breath hitched, a ragged gasp against the searing pain lancing from three wounds across my back, two more festering in my shoulders.
I clenched the magical beam sword embedded in my flesh, crushing it with a surge of mana, the white-hot energy a desperate balm against the torment.
Staggering to my feet, I felt the sickening sway of blood loss, the world tilting precariously.
My Dragon Scepter, cold and heavy in my grip, was the only thing grounding me.
A defiant answer to his arrogant sneer.
"As I said, Alstair, rise to the sky – if you're worthy. Or will you cower here, bleeding out on the dirt, a pathetic monument to failure? Saving your family like this? You're condemning them to grief, to a legacy of your incompetence!" Rhaegar's words were a venomous lash, each syllable a cruel incision.
Rage, a white-hot inferno, consumed me, obliterating the pain.
"You dare? You? Implying I am wrong? You, who abandoned Mother? Who abandoned Arlene?! This charade...this due*…while they wither? Why aren't we working together, finding the cure they need?!" My voice cracked, raw with grief and incandescent fury.
"Too young, Alstair. Too naive. In this world, power is the ultimate currency. You lack vision. Only a sorcerer who can wield the curse, transcend it, master it…only he possesses true power." Rhaegar sheathed his sword, the movement as fluid as a serpent's strike.
His magical scepter, tipped with a pulsating amethyst, rose, a harbinger of impending doom.
I didn't need to hear his incantation.
The air crackled with anticipation.
Two colossal magical barriers materialized behind him, churning with arcane energy.
A tempest was brewing, a storm of unimaginable power.
If it were a simple lightning bolt, a raging tempest – even thrice amplified – I could counter it, even now.
But this… this was different.
From the swirling vortexes behind him, two heads emerged; colossal, incandescent dragons, born of lightning and wind.
Their roars were a physical assault, a maelstrom of pressurized air and deafening thunder.
My Lightning Bolt, my Raging Tempest… utterly insignificant against this cataclysmic force.
Divine Thunder, Fire Storm… too slow, too cumbersome.
This…this was an annihilation.
My blood ran cold.
Is this the end?
No!
Gods damn it!
The searing agony ripped through me, a white-hot brand across my shattered defenses.
My magical barrier – gone.
Reduced to dust.
The sickening, hollow ache in my chest hammered a relentless rhythm against my ribs – a death knell counting down my remaining moments.
My lifeblood, the very essence of my being, was draining away, a crimson tide ebbing with terrifying speed.
Panic clawed at my throat, a desperate, ragged breath escaping my lips.
Sweat slicked my skin, cold and clammy, a testament to the sheer terror gripping me.
The acrid tang of blood filled my nostrils, mingling with the metallic scent of fear.
My vision swam, the world blurring at the edges, the harsh reality of my impending doom closing in.
Fingers trembling, I frantically scrolled the System menu, the faint glow of the screen a feeble beacon in the encroaching darkness.
Each passing second felt like an eternity.
Then, it appeared – a lifeline in the abyss: *Dragon's Soul*.
Four of them.
Four stolen hearts of fire, collected at unimaginable cost.
Four fragments of power waiting to be unleashed.
Enough, perhaps, to stave off oblivion.
My Dragon Scepter, forged from the very essence of Aeron the Vengeance Dragon, pulsed faintly in my grasp, a cold comfort against the burning despair.
The System's notification – a stark, brutal reminder of the mana cost – flashed before my eyes, a challenge I couldn't afford to refuse.
I poured every last drop of my dwindling mana into the ritual, a desperate gamble against the odds.
The scepter exploded in a blinding azure inferno, the light so intense it seared my retinas, leaving trails of shimmering, incandescent blue in my vision.
A raw, elemental power surged through me, a wave of searing energy threatening to shatter my already fractured body.
Then, amidst the blinding flash, I saw them – the four dragon souls, swirling and coalescing, their furious energy weaving itself into the scepter, forming a magnificent, writhing dragon's head, wings outstretched in defiant glory, tail lashing against the ancient wood.
A weapon reborn from the ashes of death.
> Dragon's Souls utilized (x4)!
> Dragon Scepter had been modified into Imperial Scepter!
> Imperial Scepter equipped!
> Magician Power increased 250%!
> Magician Defense Power increased 250%!
> Magician Mana Power increased 250%!
> You had activated the Combination of Active spell: Dragon Spell Casting!
>Active Skill:
Lightning BoltGaia EndowmentDivine ThunderFire StormMana DrainIce JavelinFrost BiteReturn to EarthMagical MagnificationInvisible
>Passive Skill:
Fire Pillar - Fire PilgrimMana RegenerationHealth RegenerationThe Eye of SorcererAir Walk
> Dragon Spell Casting:
Dragon Beam Breath
A raw, feral power – dragonfire in my veins, dragon rage in my soul – exploded within me.
It was breathtaking, terrifying; I felt the thrum of their ancient hearts, the untamed wilderness of their minds, the cold, calculating intent to kill… all woven into the fabric of this new, terrifying strength.
Ignoring the agony that ripped through my shattered body, I rose.
The Imperial Scepter, forged from dragon essence, a weapon both beautiful and brutal, pointed at Rhaegar.
His eyes widened, a flicker of genuine fear – a rare sight – in their usually icy depths.
He saw it too: the aura crackling around me, a storm of raw power.
And then, behind me, the colossal magical circle ignited, its fiery heart blossoming into the snarling, incandescent head of a dragon – a beast the size of mountains.
My sorcerer's sight burned, allowing me to weave three spells simultaneously.
Fire, thunder, wind – three elemental scourges – fused into one cataclysmic attack: the Dragon's Breath.
The ritual demanded precision, a deadly dance with the elements.
First, a crimson sun bloomed from a tiny circle, the searing heat of the Fire Storm spell consuming the air.
Then, a blinding, sapphire-white light erupted from a second circle, the raw, divine fury of the Divine Thunder spell crackling with celestial energy.
Finally, a vibrant emerald cyclone materialized from a third circle, the untamed, howling rage of the Raging Tempest spell, a wind capable of shredding mountains.
Each spell, a carefully chosen piece in the symphony of destruction about to be unleashed.
> Utilized Dragon Casting Spell!
> Fire Storm Spell Imbued!
> Divine Thunder Spell Imbued!
> Raging Tempest Spell Imbued!
> Combination Spell: Dragon Beam Breath ready!
The colossal dragon's head, a shimmering phantom of sapphire light and malevolent crimson eyes, solidified in the air.
Its jaws gaped, a vortex of wind, fire, and thunder coalescing into a single, screaming point of energy – a weapon aimed squarely at Rhaegar.
"Proof, Father?!" I roared, the taste of blood thick on my tongue, my defiance a desperate shriek against the crushing weight of my injuries.
"Here's your evidence! Let's see how cocky you are when you're reduced to dust!"
Rhaegar, a cruel smile twisting his lips, met my challenge. "The dragon-imbued spell! Excellent, Altair! You've mastered the combination spell! Let's see how far you've truly pushed it!"
Twin storms, born from the magical dragons flanking him, erupted, tearing at the very fabric of the air.
I squeezed the trigger.
My own dragon unleashed its fury – a Dragon's Beam, a torrent of blue, green, and crimson, a colossal lance of crackling energy, a thunderbolt made flesh.
The collision was an apocalypse.
Rhaegar's storm winds and my Dragon's Breath collided in a cataclysm that ripped through the 1111th floor of the Abandoned Tower.
The air vibrated, a palpable force that hammered against my eardrums, the stench of ozone and burnt flesh choking me.
The very ground groaned under the impact, the earth itself seeming to shudder in terror.
The artificial sky of this forsaken floor shattered, a gaping maw of inky blackness revealing the terrifying void beyond – a black hole swallowing light and hope.
The initial shockwave, a physical manifestation of our raw power, felt like a hammer blow to my chest.
Though the clash seemed evenly matched, a brutal, grinding stalemate, my Dragon's Breath held the edge, pushing forward with inexorable force.
Another explosion, far more violent than the first, ripped through the already fractured ceiling.
The sky above us disintegrated, shards of artificial firmament raining down like a blizzard of razor-sharp glass.
The ground bucked and swayed, threatening to swallow me whole.
The tower itself felt poised on the brink of annihilation.
Through the swirling dust and debris, I searched for Rhaegar.
Gone.
His presence, once so potent, had vanished completely.
Then, amidst the chaos, I saw him. A broken, smoking figure, hanging precariously in the ravaged sky, a hole burnt clean through his chest.
He was a husk, a grim testament to my power.
The Legendary Sorcerer, defeated.
I had done it.
I sank to my knees, gasping for air, my mana reserves utterly depleted.
The victory, so hard-won, felt hollow.
An unsettling silence settled over the ruins.
Defeating Rhaegar was a quest objective.
Where was the system notification?
The reward?
Or was he… not truly defeated?
The silence screamed a far more terrifying truth than any roar of dragon fire ever could.
The siege pressed in, a vise around my lungs.
Then, a whisper of movement – the ghost of a footfall behind me, chillingly silent.
Before I could react, a searing pain exploded in my chest, a black-ice dagger finding its mark.
I crumpled, the taste of iron blooming in my mouth, but a hand, strong and familiar, hauled me upright, forcing me to meet the gaze of my killer.
It was Rhaegar, my father, coalescing from nothingness, a shimmering, tangible form resolving from the air like a nightmare made flesh.
The Invisible Spell, one of Elven magic form, foul and chillingly effective.
"How…?" I gasped, blood bubbling on my lips, my vision swimming.
"The moment your Dragon's Breath flared, a masterpiece of childish ambition," Rhaegar's voice was a silken rasp, laced with a cruel amusement.
He gestured to the empty space beside me, the lingering chill of his illusion palpable. "My clone, so cleverly dispatched to its…purpose."
His hand, gripping mine with unnerving strength, still clutched the dagger – its obsidian blade a stark contrast to the pale flesh surrounding the wound.
The world stuttered, tilting precariously.
"The price of such power, Alstair," he sneered, his words dripping with contempt. "You consumed yourself with the strike, neglecting the shield, the senses that would have warned you of my…transparent presence."
Damn him.
His arrogance was a festering wound to match the one in my chest, yet his assessment was brutally true.
Obsessed with unleashing the Dragon's fury, I'd left myself naked, blind, a fool.
Was this my end?
To fall, not to a monster, but to the cold calculation of my own father?
Did he not see?
Didn't he understand my desperate struggle, my fight against the horrors that threatened our family, his family?
The raw, agonizing question clawed at me.
Instead of an answer, a brutal kick sent me sprawling.
The world exploded in a kaleidoscope of pain and fury.
"Well, at least you forced my descent from the heavens, Alstair," he said, his voice casually cruel, his words a final, contemptuous insult.
The air itself seemed to mock my helplessness.
My strength ebbed.
The system's grim notification – *Critical Health: Imminent Death* – burned in my mind, mockingly precise.
My vision blurred further, a vortex of crimson and black consuming my final moments.
His words, his laughter, echoing in the deafening silence of my defeat.
The burning injustice of it seared my soul, even as darkness claimed me.