Before a colossal door carved with eldritch symbols, a lone warrior stood. Blood dripped from a hundred wounds, staining the ground beneath his feet. His sword, as massive as his burden, rested heavily on his shoulder. This was Anarc, the Dragon Slayer, a legend forged in blood and fire.
Behind this door lay his destiny.
Anarc's journey through the Tower of Demise had been a gauntlet of horrors. He had slain the Seven Malices, yet now, at the summit, he hesitated. Beyond the door waited a force of unparalleled destruction, a name that struck fear even in the hearts of the brave: Ragnarok, the Fallen Mage.
He exhaled deeply, steadying his resolve. His hand, calloused from years of war, pushed against the door. It groaned open, revealing...
A serene meadow.
Anarc blinked. The battlefield he'd envisioned was instead a radiant garden, filled with vibrant flowers swaying under a golden sun. The air was fragrant and warm, a stark contrast to the cold dread he'd carried within. He stepped cautiously inside, his eyes scanning the surreal scene.
At the center of the meadow stood a towering tree, its branches sprawling like a protective canopy. Beneath it was a throne carved from gleaming obsidian. Seated on the throne was a man of otherworldly beauty—white-haired, dressed in flowing black robes, his sharp crimson eyes observing Anarc with faint amusement.
Anarc's battle-hardened instincts screamed danger.
The man rose, stepping gracefully onto the air itself as though the ground was beneath him wherever he chose.
"So," the man said, his voice smooth as silk, "you've made it this far. Anarc, the Great Dragon Slayer."
Anarc tightened his grip on his sword, his stance shifting slightly. "Ragnarok. The Harbinger of Evil."
The white-haired man chuckled softly, the sound carrying an edge of cruelty. "Titles. They mean little in the grand scheme, don't you think?"
"I didn't come here for a philosophy lesson," Anarc said, his tone guarded. "I've waited years for this. I won't waste another moment."
"Years?" Ragnarok tilted his head mockingly. "And here I thought you'd grown old and tired, not foolish and impatient." He snapped his fingers.
The meadow disintegrated.
The flowers withered to ash, the sunlight dimming into a blood-red haze. The ground cracked, revealing molten veins of lava coursing beneath. The air grew heavy with malice.
"Let's not waste time then," Ragnarok said, his crimson eyes blazing with unholy light. "Come, Dragon Slayer. Show me what your legend is made of!"
Anarc charged, his blade igniting with a blazing red aura. Ragnarok smirked, flicking his hand to summon a shimmering black vortex. The battlefield erupted into chaos as the two titans clashed.
---
The Battle
Anarc's sword cleaved through the air, trailing fire, as he swung at Ragnarok. The mage vanished in an instant, reappearing behind him. A portal shimmered into existence, and jagged shards of obsidian shot out like arrows.
Anarc spun, his blade deflecting the projectiles in a fiery arc. "Coward! Face me head-on!"
"Head-on?" Ragnarok's voice echoed from all directions. "What fun would that be?"
Suddenly, the ground beneath Anarc erupted, a chasm yawning open to swallow him whole. He leapt back, landing precariously on a jagged outcrop. Ragnarok appeared above him, a vortex swirling in his palm. He hurled it down, the vortex expanding into a spiraling black hole.
Anarc roared, slashing his sword upward. The red aura surged, colliding with the vortex in an explosion of light and shadow. The shockwave shattered the surrounding terrain, leaving both combatants momentarily staggered.
"You're strong," Ragnarok admitted, his tone carrying a grudging respect. "But strength alone won't save you."
"And arrogance won't save you!" Anarc shot back, charging forward. He feinted to the right before pivoting left, his blade aiming for Ragnarok's chest.
Ragnarok smirked, summoning a shield of spatial distortion. The blade struck the barrier, the impact sending shockwaves rippling outward.
"You're predictable, old man."
"Then try predicting this!" Anarc roared, unleashing a flurry of strikes. His blade moved faster than the eye could follow, carving through the air in a relentless storm of fire and steel.
For the first time, Ragnarok faltered. He conjured barriers and portals in rapid succession, but the relentless assault drove him back. A deep gash opened on his shoulder, and he hissed in pain.
"You'll regret that," Ragnarok growled.
He thrust his hand forward, and the battlefield itself seemed to twist. Gravity shifted, pulling Anarc sideways, then upward. Debris from the broken ground swirled in a deadly cyclone, battering Anarc from all sides.
With a roar of defiance, Anarc planted his sword into the ground, anchoring himself. His aura flared brighter, pushing back against the gravitational pull.
"This ends now!" both warriors roared in unison.
Anarc raised his sword, its aura intensifying into a blinding crimson light. Ragnarok summoned a vortex of pure darkness, its edges crackling with violent energy. They unleashed their ultimate attacks, the forces colliding with a deafening explosion that obliterated everything in its wake.
---
The Aftermath
When the dust settled, the battlefield was silent. The meadow had returned, flowers blooming once more under a golden sun.
Anarc and Ragnarok lay slumped on two stone pedestals before the throne, their bodies broken and bloodied.
"You're... strong," Ragnarok murmured, his voice barely audible.
"Look who's... talking," Anarc replied with a weak smile.
A long silence passed between them.
"Do you know the story of the heretic who betrayed his kin?" Ragnarok asked.
"I've heard it," Anarc said. "The mage of hope who fled the battle against Baal, abandoning his comrades to their deaths."
"Lies," Ragnarok spat. "Nel and Elena... they sacrificed themselves for me. To warn the world about the five demon kings. The Emperor didn't want the truth known, so he branded me a traitor."
"The Emperor?" Anarc's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"He made a pact with the demon kings," Ragnarok said bitterly. "In exchange for power, he sacrificed countless lives. And when I tried to expose him, he slaughtered my family and turned the world against me."
Anarc's jaw tightened as he pulled a small, glowing sphere from his pocket.
"You're no villain," Anarc said softly. "The Emperor and the demon kings have plunged this world into chaos. If anyone can stop them, it's you."
He tossed the glowing sphere to Ragnarok, who caught it weakly. A golden barrier of light began to form around him.
"What is this?" Ragnarok demanded, his vision blurring.
"Hope," Anarc whispered. "When you wake, find the Draken Duchy. Seek my kin. Look for Dracia Draken's third son. He will understand once he sees the chrono sphere."
Ragnarok's vision dimmed as the light barrier fully surrounded him. The last thing he saw was Anarc's faint smile, his lips moving silently:
"Goodbye... my friend."
The barrier flared brightly, and then Ragnarok was gone.
---
To Be Continued...