The dragon's rampage slowed.
A warm, radiant grace pulsed beneath its massive frame, soothing the fierce tempest of its rage.
The beast let out a low, guttural growl, shifting its weight. Golden light seeped through the gaps in its scales.
Then—it lowered its body.
Curling its massive form around Nimfa and Noir, the dragon coiled itself in a protective circle, its golden eyes locked onto the trembling villagers.
A hushed silence fell over the battlefield.
No one dared move.
All eyes were drawn to the angel with her wings fully outstretched.
Her silver feathers shimmered under the night sky, glistening in the faint glow of lingering magic.
She was still holding Noir.
Her arms remained wrapped around him, his masked face resting against her shoulder.
And through the mask's eye slit—his crimson gaze was visible.
A gaze that burned through the darkness.
Ronan's POV
A sudden chill ran down Ronan's spine.
Noir's gaze—it felt like it pierced straight through his soul.
Something familiar clawed at the edge of his mind.
As if he had felt this presence before.
His body tensed, his fingers curling slightly against the hilt of his sword.
"What… is that?"
His instincts screamed at him to move, to act, to do something—
But he couldn't.
He could only watch.
Cedric's POV
His breath hitched.
His entire body froze.
The words tumbled from his lips before he could even stop them—
"A-An Angel…?"
His mind whirled.
"Why is there an angel here?"
"Am I going to die?"
Fear clawed its way up his throat.
Where there were angels… demons always followed.
And where demons and angels clashed—humans were always caught in the crossfire.
Unavoidable destruction.
Endless war.
The realization sent a cold sweat down his back.
His mind raced—how could he turn this to his advantage?
And then—his gaze shifted.
Ronan.
The dark-haired warrior had stepped forward, his eyes locked onto the dragon egg.
A sinister grin curled on Cedric's lips.
"Perfect."
Cedric's Scheme
"If I can manipulate this right…"
His fingers twitched slightly against the hilt of his sword.
"I'll use the dragon to kill that angel."
If the angel dies, then there's no battle between demons and angels.
No war in the village.
No bloodshed that destroys everything in its wake.
And more importantly—
If I slay both the angel and the dragon, I'll be promoted to the Royal Guard.
His heart pounded with the sheer brilliance of his own plan.
"Two birds, one blade."
A slow, twisted smirk stretched across his face.
Now, he just had to wait for the perfect moment to strike.
As the dragon leaned forward, its fiery eyes locked onto Ronan, a low growl rumbling from its throat.
"Grrrr..." The heat in its gaze was enough to burn through anyone who dared step closer.
Suddenly, dozens of soldiers surrounded Ronan and Lyric, their weapons drawn.
Ronan's POV
Huh? What are these fools doing? Ronan's icy-blue eyes swept over the soldiers, his face unreadable.
Lyric's POV
"Umm, mister..." Lyric's small hands clutched at Ronan's sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. Fear shone in her brown eyes as she shrank from the soldiers' harsh stares.
Feeling the tremor in her grip, Ronan gently patted her head before pressing the dragon egg into her arms.
"It will be fine," he said, his voice calm, yet firm.
A slow, mocking clap echoed through the tense air. "Oi, oi, oi, Ronan... why didn't you report to me about that little treasure you're holding?" A smug voice cut through the moment.
Ronan's cold gaze shifted toward the approaching man.
Cedric Draevenhart.
The golden-haired officer smirked, sauntering toward the scene with deliberate ease. His soldiers straightened at his presence, their hands gripping their weapons tighter.
Ronan instinctively stepped in front of Lyric, shielding her. "Come here, Lyric," he said in a low voice, guiding her behind him.
Cedric's smirk widened. "Oh, Ronan, why don't you be a good soldier and hand over that little present of yours?"
Ronan said nothing, his fingers twitching slightly at his side.
Cedric's face darkened, his tone shifting into something more commanding. "Or are you refusing an order?"
Meanwhile…
Nimfa suddenly realized what she had done. A deep flush of red crawled up her face, her ears burning with embarrassment.
"KYAAAA!" Her internal scream echoed in her mind. In a sudden, flustered panic, she shoved Noir away.
"Ack!" Noir let out a grunt, still weak from the iron arrow wound.
He sighed heavily, running a hand over his mask. "Didn't I tell you—don't ever show your wings?" His tone was low, a mixture of exasperation and concern.
"H-Huh? My wings?" Nimfa blinked before looking down at herself. Her silver feathers shimmered in the moonlight, fully exposed. "I-I didn't notice..."
She quickly tucked them back, her heart still racing.
As she glanced around, her golden eyes widened at the sight of the group of soldiers surrounding Ronan and Lyric. Her gaze fell on the dragon egg clutched tightly in the girl's arms.
"Wait… that girl… is she holding the mother's egg?"
Noir's POV
Noir narrowed his crimson eyes as he watched the dragon, its massive form curled protectively around Nimfa.
So it's true... this dragon isn't rampaging without reason.
He exhaled slowly, his body still aching. It was only looking for its egg.
As Noir lowered his gaze, his sharp crimson eyes fixated on Ronan and Lyric, who stood at the center of a growing storm. Soldiers encircled them, their weapons poised, their faces filled with apprehension.
Then—
"Demon."
A whisper, distant yet clear, slithered into Noir's mind like a lingering breath carried by the wind.
"Can you hear me?"
Noir's body tensed. The voice did not belong to a human, nor a mortal beast. It was ancient—deep, like the shifting plates of the earth itself.
"I entrust my daughter's egg to you."
His crimson gaze instinctively snapped to the dragon. The beast's molten eyes bore into him, unwavering, filled with an unspoken truth.
"Wha—what do you mean?" Noir's voice echoed in his head, his mind struggling to grasp the weight of those words.
The dragon exhaled, a slow, weary sigh that shook the air itself.
"I no longer have time to remain in this world. The curse that bound me has lifted… thanks to the angel who holds you so dear."
The dragon's lips curled in something akin to amusement. A low, rumbling growl followed, though there was no threat behind it—only finality.
Nimfa, sensing something, suddenly stood, her golden eyes wide with realization.
"And I have lived long enough." The dragon's voice was steady, yet laced with a quiet sadness. "Long enough to see the world change. Long enough to witness something once thought impossible—a demon and an angel standing together. Because of them, I have borrowed time. But that time is over."
As the great beast bowed its head, the embers that once burned fiercely in its eyes flickered, like a fire reaching the end of its life.
260 Years Ago – A Demon, An Angel, and A Dying Dragon
Sunlight streamed through the jagged peaks of the mountains, casting long shadows over the battlefield. The ground was stained with the remnants of battle—charred earth, shattered stones, and the lingering scent of steel and blood.
At the center of it all stood a colossal figure—a dragon, its scales cracked and battered, its once-mighty form trembling with effort.
A deep, ragged breath escaped the beast's lungs as it gazed at the open sky. The golden light of dusk reflected in its fading embers for eyes.
"Will I never see my daughter again?" The thought lingered in its mind as the pain in its chest deepened. The wound left by the Hero's Party had already sealed its fate.
Then—footsteps.
The dragon's gaze shifted, and for the first time in its long existence, it saw something truly unnatural.
A demon and an angel—together.
It wasn't just their presence that unsettled the ancient beast; it was the way they walked side by side. No hostility. No fear.
"Yo, Ancient Dragon," the demon called out with a smirk, his obsidian hair tousled by the wind. His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement, as if utterly unfazed by the sight before him. "Still breathing?"
A woman beside him sighed, placing a delicate hand on her hip. Her silver hair shimmered under the sun, and her golden eyes, filled with warmth and wisdom, studied the dragon with quiet sorrow.
"Malgrath," she chided, pinching his cheek. "Can you take this more seriously? This creature is dying."
The dragon let out a low growl, but it was not one of aggression.
"A demon and an angel… together? This world never ceases to surprise me."
"Hey, hey, don't look at us like that," Malgrath chuckled, crossing his arms. "And don't go telling anyone, alright? We're keeping this whole thing a secret."
The dragon snorted, a weak puff of smoke escaping its nostrils.
Elara, however, stepped forward, her expression shifting. She raised a hand, letting golden light shimmer from her fingertips.
"You don't have much time left," she murmured, her voice as gentle as the wind that stirred around them. "If you wish to see your daughter again… I can offer you something."
Malgrath arched a brow. "Wait, Elara, can't you just heal him?"
Elara closed her eyes, her fingers curling slightly. "There are limits to all things, Malgrath. Balance exists in this world. Life and death… one cannot exist without the other."
The dragon exhaled heavily, as if the weight of the world had finally settled upon it.
"I see…"
Malgrath clicked his tongue. "Tch. Alright then, old lizard, what's it gonna be? You wanna keep fighting fate or what?"
There was silence. Then—
"Why?" The dragon's voice rumbled, weak yet firm. "Why would you—both of you—help a creature like me? A being despised by both your kinds?"
For a moment, neither of them answered.
Then, Elara simply smiled.
"Because kindness is not bound by race."
The dragon's eyes widened slightly.
And then—
"This dragon has only enough time left to see the one he loves," Elara murmured, sadness threading her voice.
Malgrath frowned, running a hand through his hair. "Sigh… you remind me of one of my kin. The strongest warrior I've ever known. Fine. I'll give you something."
Malgrath stepped forward, extending his hand toward the dragon.
"Reaper Chain."
Dark, spectral chains slithered from Malgrath's fingertips, binding themselves around the dragon's heart. The magic pulsed, connecting their very existence.
"This is a curse that ties you to me. As long as I live, so will you."
The dragon blinked in shock.
Elara smiled, the golden light of the setting sun illuminating her face.
"Malgrath… you have warmth in your soul. Thank you."
Malgrath scoffed, looking away. "Tch. Don't say stuff like that. It's annoying."
And so, the dragon lived—not by the will of the gods, nor by the laws of its kind, but by the defiance of an angel and a demon who stood together.
The Present – A Final Goodbye
As Noir stared into the dragon's eyes, he understood now.
This beast had lived far beyond its intended time, a miracle woven by an angel's mercy and a demon's defiance.
And now, that time was over.
"I entrust my daughter to you."
The dragon lowered its massive head toward Noir, exhaling softly. Its body trembled, its strength nearly gone.
"Raise her well, Demon of Two Bloods. Show her the world… in a way I never could."
Noir's throat tightened, but he did not respond—not with words. Instead, he stepped forward, pressing his palm gently against the dragon's fading scales.
A silent promise.