A deafening roar ripped through the sky, shaking the very earth beneath their feet. The once vibrant battlefield, where the forces of Kastoria clashed with the relentless Demons, suddenly fell into an eerie silence. The sky, a brilliant canvas of azure, seemed to pulse with tension, while the sun blazed overhead, casting sharp, unforgiving shadows on the ground.
Even the air itself seemed to quiver, as if in anticipation of something monumental.
“GRAAAAH!!!”
The terrifying sound echoed once more, reverberating through the hearts of those below. Every warrior, regardless of their allegiance, froze in place, their weapons lowered as their eyes turned skyward. The air was thick with dread, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.
“Look there!” A voice rang out, breaking the stillness. All heads turned as one, their gazes fixed on a distant speck in the sky. At first, it was nothing more than a dark dot, barely discernible against the brightness of the heavens. But as the seconds ticked by, the dot grew larger, hurtling toward them with terrifying speed.
“Raise your guards! Everyone, retreat back!” Kratos’s voice cut through the panic like a blade, sharp and commanding.
“Fall back, now!” Ryuuki echoed, urgency lacing his words as he took a defensive stance.
What was once a distant blur was now unmistakable. A dragon—no, a true dragon—was bearing down on them. Its scales gleamed like polished gold, reflecting the sunlight in blinding bursts. The creature’s roar, both magnificent and terrifying, reverberated through the air as it sliced through the sky with a grace that belied its massive size.
“K-Kratos…” A weak, trembling voice broke through his focus. Kratos glanced down at Megara, who was leaning heavily on his shoulder. Her eyes, clouded with pain and exhaustion, were not fixed on the dragon itself but on something—or someone—atop it.
Following her gaze, Kratos felt his breath catch in his throat. Three figures were visible on the dragon’s back, their forms becoming clearer with each passing moment. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the first figure—Semiramis, his trusted comrade, standing tall and poised behind a man and a woman.
The woman, cloaked in an ominous black robe, had her face obscured by a mask that only revealed her piercing eyes. She stood close to the man beside her. The young man was similarly masked, his right eye concealed beneath an eye patch, leaving only a single, gleaming golden eye exposed to the world.
Kratos’s eyes widened in shock as recognition dawned. “He… he really came…” he muttered under his breath, a mix of disbelief and relief washing over him. How this man had managed to ally with a dragon was beyond Kratos’s comprehension, but one thing was certain—they were on his side.
“OYY!! It’s a dragon, guys!!” The shout of alarm came from one of Ryuuki’s classmates, his voice cracking with fear.
“A true dragon!” someone else echoed, their voice trembling. Panic began to spread among the ranks as the reality of the situation settled in.
“Shouldn’t we run away?!” another cried out, the suggestion causing a ripple of uncertainty among the gathered warriors.
“Ryuuki…” Yumiko’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as she looked to him for a decision.
“Let’s wait,” Ryuuki responded, his tone steady but cautious. “We don’t know if it’s an enemy yet. The Demons look panicked too.” He failed to notice the wave of relief that washed over Kratos’s features.
“Who cares if it’s a dragon!” Yusuke’s voice broke through the tension, his bravado almost reckless. He was practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of battling such a legendary creature. To him, this was an opportunity to prove his strength, to show the world that he was the strongest Hero of them all.
Ayaka, Akane, and Rena, however, remained silent. Their eyes were trained on the dragon, their bodies tense and ready for anything. They knew better than to let their guard down, even for a moment.
Meanwhile, the rest of their classmates cowered in fear, some even hiding behind their braver peers. Fighting Demons had been terrifying enough, but over the past year, they had grown accustomed to the horror. But a dragon—a true dragon—was something entirely different, something beyond their wildest nightmares.
“Look,” Kazuto’s voice broke the tense silence. He adjusted his glasses, his sharp eyes focused on the figures atop the dragon. “There are people on its back. Three, to be exact.”
Ryuuki narrowed his eyes, now seeing the truth of Kazuto’s observation. “Yes,” he nodded slowly, a sense of foreboding settling over him.
“There’s a Demon with them… I think, unfortunately, they’re enemies,” Kazuto muttered, his voice tinged with growing dread. As he observed the group more closely, his gaze fell upon the young man whose face was entirely concealed by a black mask, save for a single, piercing left eye. An inexplicable chill ran down Kazuto’s spine, and he involuntarily took a step back.
“Kazuto?” Yumiko’s voice was filled with concern, noticing her friend’s unusual reaction. Her puzzled expression deepened as she watched Kazuto’s face slowly drain of color, his usually composed demeanor unraveling.
Perched atop the dragon, Nathan stood tall, clad in light black armor that seemed to absorb the very light around him. The armor, along with the black sword strapped to his back, were not ordinary weapons—they were treasures from the depths of Tenebria’s most sacred vaults, chosen personally by Nathan. Such artifacts were rarely, if ever, touched by mortal hands.
But Azariah, recognizing the significance of Samael’s demand, had made an exception.
Nathan, now the Lord Commander of the Kingdom, was adorned in full regalia, a symbol of his authority and power. His cold gaze swept over the battlefield, filled with impatience. The two-day journey had drained him, and he had little desire to prolong this skirmish any further. He was eager to end this farce of a battle and find some much-needed rest.
“Get down,” Nathan commanded the dragon in a voice that brooked no argument. The creature responded immediately, roaring as it descended rapidly, landing behind the Demon army. The ground shook as the dragon’s massive form settled, its golden wings unfurling slightly in a display of dominance. The Demons themselves recoiled in fear, unsure of what to expect next.
“MEGARA!!” Semiramis’s voice cut through the tension as she leaped from the dragon’s back the moment it touched the ground. Her eyes were wide with panic as she sprinted toward Kratos, her gaze locked onto Megara’s frail form.
“Semiramis, you’re finally here,” Kratos said.
“Y-Yes! But is she… is she alright?!” Semiramis’s voice trembled as she reached them, her worry for Megara visible.
“No, she’s not,” Kratos replied grimly as he gently laid Megara down. Her breathing was shallow, her body weak from the mortal wound that marred her back. “We need to get her healed—immediately.”
As Nathan dismounted the dragon, Medea followed closely behind him. The moment Nathan’s feet touched the ground, a ripple of shock ran through the Demons. Though most had never seen him in person, they had heard the countless rumors—whispers of his power, of his ruthlessness. Now, seeing him in the flesh, their fears were confirmed.
On Nathan’s arm, a black armband gleamed—the unmistakable mark of the legendary Lord Commander.
“Look!”
“It’s him! The Hero of Darkness!”
“The Lord Commander has arrived!”
“Yeah!!”
“With him here, it’s over now!”
The Demons erupted into cheers, their morale skyrocketing at the sight of Nathan. Any doubts they may have harbored about the young Hero vanished in an instant. Despite his age, Nathan’s cold, hardened expression revealed a maturity far beyond his years. There was nothing ordinary about this teenager—his very presence radiated danger and an overwhelming sense of power.
Even the golden dragon behind him, a creature of immense strength, showed a strange mixture of respect and fear towards its master.
“R-Ryuuki… that guy is dangerous…” Kazuto whispered, swallowing hard as he tore his gaze away from Nathan.
The air was thick with tension as all the Heroes’ eyes fixated on Nathan, the so-called Hero of Darkness. He was their prime target, the one they had been warned about.
Nathan was supposed to be an Earthling, someone summoned from another world just a week ago. But as he strode across the battlefield, he looked nothing like any Earthling they had ever seen. His hair was as dark as the blackest coal, absorbing all light around it. He wore a suit of armor that was equally pitch black, a stark contrast to the blazing sun overhead.
His face was completely hidden beneath the armor, save for his eyes—dark gold with an eerie vertical slit that shimmered with a predatory gleam.
As Nathan moved, both the Heroes of Kastoria and their armies fell into a hushed, fearful silence. There was something about him, something that commanded attention and inspired dread in equal measure. The air grew thick with tension as they watched the Hero of Darkness advance toward Megara’s crumpled form.
Nathan cast a brief, indifferent glance at Megara’s dying body. To him, her fate was of little concern—whether she lived or died made no difference to him personally. But he knew her value as an Archdemon, a vital asset in the looming battle against the Divine Knights. Letting her die now would be a waste of resources.
“Heal her, Medea,” Nathan commanded, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.
“Yes, Milord~” Medea replied, her tone syrupy sweet. Although her face was concealed beneath her robe, her mismatched eyes—one blue, one red—gleamed with a joy that was impossible to miss. The delight in her voice was palpable, and it wasn’t hard to imagine that her cheeks were flushed with happiness at Nathan’s request.
“Who’s she?” Kratos asked, his voice thick with suspicion. There was something about Medea that set off alarm bells in his mind, an instinctive sense of danger that he couldn’t shake. Despite her seemingly innocent demeanor, he knew this woman was extremely dangerous.
“She’s with us. Don’t worry,” Semiramis assured him, though her voice held a note of uncertainty. She didn’t trust Medea—not entirely. But she had witnessed firsthand the depth of Medea’s devotion to Samael. The woman was utterly, hopelessly in love with him. If Samael asked her to, Medea would set the world ablaze without hesitation.
There was no way she would act against his wishes.
Medea approached Megara, her movements graceful and deliberate. She extended her arm over Megara’s body and began to chant in a language that was foreign and ancient, her voice a soft murmur. “Kleshi rnvuls su yeri.”
A dark red glow enveloped Megara, the light pulsating with an otherworldly energy. Megara groaned slightly, but the deathly pallor of her skin began to fade, replaced by a healthier flush.
Kratos watched in stunned silence, unable to believe what he was seeing. “Who are you…?” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Medea ignored him, her focus entirely on healing Megara. But her eyes, filled with longing and adoration, were not on her patient—they were fixed on the back of the man she loved with every fiber of her being. Nathan—or rather, Samael—was already moving on, his attention now directed toward the Heroes of Kastoria, who stood waiting in uneasy anticipation.
Kratos turned to Semiramis, silently pleading for answers. But she had none to give. What could she say? She had heard the legends, the whispers of Medea’s genius. But in the presence of Samael, Medea was something else entirely—something terrifyingly powerful.
“According to the Lord Commander,” Semiramis finally said, her voice low, “she is the Greatest Dark Sorceress in the world.”
“What?” Kratos’s eyes darted back to Medea, whose expression was one of pure obsession, her love-struck gaze following Nathan as he walked away.
Nathan, or Samael, continued his slow, deliberate approach toward the Heroes of Kastoria.
