The wind roared like a living beast, sharp and untamed, as Kael'thir soared higher than he ever had before.
His wings cut through the thin, icy air, leaving trails of distorted space in his wake.
Every beat of his wings sent shockwaves rippling through the sky, as if even the heavens themselves struggled to contain him.
But Kael'thir wasn't flying for the thrill of it.
Not anymore.
He was following a pulse, faint but undeniable—a ripple in the fabric of space that tugged at his instincts, drawing him toward something ancient, something powerful.
A remnant of the vision he'd seen beyond the gate.
A thread woven through space and time.
Below him, the world blurred into a patchwork of mountains, rivers, and endless forests.
But Kael'thir's focus remained fixed on the horizon, where the sky itself seemed to fracture.
Not clouds.
Not storms.
Cracks.
Hairline fractures spreading across the fabric of the sky, faint and glowing with a soft, violet hue—the same hue that had burned in the eyes of the warrior he'd devoured.
Kael'thir's pupils narrowed.
This wasn't natural.
This was a scar.
A wound carved into reality itself.
And he was going to find out what caused it.
With a powerful beat of his wings, Kael'thir surged forward, his speed blinding as he closed the distance.
The fractures grew larger as he approached, stretching across the heavens like veins of broken glass.
The air grew heavier, thick with mana that felt wrong—twisted, unstable, as if reality was struggling to hold itself together.
Kael'thir didn't slow.
Didn't hesitate.
Because beneath the distortion, he felt it—
A presence.
Not prey.
Not beast.
Something else.
Something like him.
He broke through the final layer of clouds—
And froze.
Hovering in the sky, suspended between the world below and the shattered sky above, Kael'thir stared at the source of the disturbance.
It was a rift.
A tear in space, jagged and wide, its edges pulsing with chaotic energy.
Through it, he could see… nothing.
Not darkness.
Not light.
Just void.
And standing at the edge of that void—
A figure.
Tall.
Slender.
Cloaked in shadows that seemed to ripple with the same violet glow as the fracture itself.
Kael'thir's claws flexed instinctively.
Another challenger.
Good.
The figure turned slowly, as if sensing Kael'thir's arrival.
Their face was hidden beneath a dark hood, but Kael'thir could feel their eyes on him—cold, calculating, and ancient.
For a long moment, neither moved.
The sky around them creaked and groaned under the strain of the rift, but Kael'thir's focus was absolute.
Then, the figure spoke.
A voice like a whisper woven into the wind, carrying no emotion—just certainty.
"You're early."
Kael'thir's eyes narrowed.
He didn't respond—not with words.
Instead, he beat his wings once, surging forward like a black comet, his claws gleaming with lethal intent.
The clash was instant.
Kael'thir's claws met the figure's outstretched hand, sparks of distorted space exploding from the impact.
But instead of being torn apart, the figure held their ground, pushing back with surprising strength.
Kael'thir snarled, his wings flaring as he pressed harder, but the figure moved with unnatural grace, slipping past his strike and retaliating with a swift, precise blow.
A blade of pure void appeared in their hand, slashing toward Kael'thir's neck.
Kael'thir twisted midair, narrowly avoiding the strike, the blade grazing his scales and leaving behind a faint mark—not a wound, but a distortion.
His body screamed in protest, the very space around the wound trembling.
Not a cut.
A scar on reality itself.
Kael'thir's fury ignited.
With a roar that shook the heavens, he unleashed a pulse of raw mana, the force of it distorting the air, warping the clouds into spirals of chaotic energy.
The figure was thrown back, but recovered instantly, hovering effortlessly as if gravity meant nothing to them.
Kael'thir didn't give them a chance to recover.
He dove again, faster this time, his form blurring as he manipulated the space around him, bending it to his will to gain even more speed.
Their next clash shattered the sky.
They fought like gods.
Kael'thir's claws slashed through the air, tearing holes in reality itself.
The figure's blade danced with impossible precision, every strike aimed not at Kael'thir's body, but at the space around him—trying to trap him, distort him, erase him.
But Kael'thir was faster.
Stronger.
Smarter.
Every blow he took, every wound he received, only made him adapt faster.
Until finally—
He found an opening.
With a snarl of pure rage, Kael'thir drove his claws through the figure's chest, mana exploding from the impact in a shockwave that tore through the clouds.
But there was no blood.
No gasp of pain.
The figure simply… dissolved.
Like smoke scattered by the wind.
Kael'thir hovered there, breathing heavily, his claws still glowing with residual energy.
But the battle wasn't over.
Because the rift was still there.
Pulsing.
Growing.
Without warning, a second figure stepped through the rift.
Then a third.
A fourth.
Each identical to the first—cloaked in shadow, their faces hidden, their presence suffocating.
Kael'thir's heart raced—not with fear, but with excitement.
More prey.
More power to devour.
More to feed the fire burning inside him.
He roared again, louder this time, a challenge to the heavens themselves.
"Come."
And they did.
The battle that followed wasn't a fight.
It was a storm.
Kael'thir moved like a force of nature, his body a blur of claws, fangs, and wings as he tore through the figures one by one.
Each time he killed one, they dissolved like the first—no blood, no screams, just emptiness left behind.
But with every kill, Kael'thir felt the rift grow stronger, the fractures in the sky spreading wider, the fabric of reality unraveling like threads pulled from a frayed cloth.
Until finally—
There was nothing left.
No figures.
No sky.
Just Kael'thir.
And the void.
He hovered there, breathing heavily, staring into the rift.
And for the first time, he felt it.
Not fear.
Not hunger.
But recognition.
Because the void wasn't just emptiness.
It was a mirror.
A reflection of what he could become—
Not just a dragon.
Not just a predator.
But something more.
Something that devoured not just mana or gods, but realities.
Kael'thir's wings folded slowly as he stared into the abyss.
And the abyss stared back.
Then—
He dove.
Whatever lay beyond that rift, he would conquer it.
Devour it.
Make it his.
Because that's what dragons do.
And Kael'thir was no ordinary dragon.
He was the beginning.
And soon—
He would be the end.