When Gallan sensed that someone was approaching, he turned around quickly, wanting to deal with whatever it was, but when he saw Silva and Drake, he stepped back in fright.
“You don’t seem happy to see me, Gallan,” Silva said.
“Taking the fact that you and Drake are the ones coming for me, there is no way I’d be happy,” Gallan said and got into a fighting pose.
His eyes shifted from Silva to Drake every second, trying to see who would attack first.
He shifted back slowly, trying to put a lot of distance between them. He wanted to assess his situation as best as he could before he engaged.
But then he felt a hand touch his shoulder. Gallan leaped in actual fright. He turned around and saw that it was Silva standing behind him.
He looked at the Silva with Drake and then the one behind him. “Seriously? Clones, master?” Gallan asked.
“I wouldn’t take my eyes off him if I were you,” Silva said. The clone threw a punch. Gallan crossed his blade and blocked the attack.
The impact sent him flying, though he received no actual damage. He landed on the ground a small distance away.
He looked at Drake and Silva; they weren’t moving, which meant they weren’t fighting, but that was not helping him at all. He already knew that these clones were actually stronger than the base Silva.
Gallan saw that he had no choice, so he charged at full speed. His blades were coated with very thin yet flexible mana that made them sharp enough to cut rock like butter.
Gallan moved like he was going for the head, but all of a sudden, he went low, attacking the legs. He cut through Silva’s legs and was happy for a moment until Silva vanished—it had been an afterimage.
He felt a chill run up his spine, but before he could react to anything, the clone came from above with a punch into Gallan’s back.
Gallan arched forward, coughed out blood, and then slammed into the ground, forming a small crater.
The clone landed beside Gallan and waited for Gallan to get back up. Gallan struggled to get back up, his hands shaking, and blood dripping from his forehead and mouth.
He took his blades and got into his stance again, his feet spread apart, one foot forward taking the weight of his body. He held both blades in a reverse grip, his eyes trained on the clone.
He shot forward with as much speed as he could. The clone coated his arms with dragon scales and threw a punch.
Gallan stabbed as well. The blade and the fist collided, causing a bright spark. Gallan was pushed back, but he quickly found his balance fast enough to block the counter from the clone.
The clone threw a punch, and Gallan blocked it, but his hands went numb after blocking it. His grip on the blades loosened, but he tried to keep hold.
Gallan was doing everything he could to not lose right now, though it wasn’t working. The clone was toying with him, showing him how weak he was.
And that was making him enraged. His demeanor changed as he held his blade. He shook his head as if trying to clear his mind and then got into a very low stance.
He took a deep breath, very slow and very heavy, and in the next second, his body vanished. He ran so fast that the normal eye could not see him.
He found an opening on the clone and went in for his attack, but as his blade approached the clone, the clone turned to look at him and used his palm to block the attack.
The impact was so much that the ground beneath them cracked, wind rose like a tornado, and then blasted outward in all directions.
Gallan and the clone were locked in a stalemate, but the next moment, the clone smirked, and his fist erupted with purple flames.
Gallan knew what that flame was, so he leaped back immediately, but the clone pushed forward. With his hands in a claw form, the clone went for the neck.
Gallan tilted his head back to dodge, but he wasn’t fast enough. The tip of the clone’s finger touched Gallan’s neck and ripped through it, drawing a lot of blood.
Gallan still refused to give up. He took several steps back, but then he realized he had stepped into a magic circle that Silva had set up.
The circle glowed and was ready to activate. Gallan jumped out before the pillar of flames shot into the sky, but the heat still charred his skin.
He fell to the ground, feeling immense pain. He rolled and got back to his feet, and then he started running.
In battle, knowing when to run away was an asset that everyone needed, and Gallan had seen that death awaited him if he kept fighting, so he ran.
But he didn’t make it up a few meters before the clone was already in front of him, and with a sword in his hand this time.
Gallan hit the brakes and tried to change directions, but the clone moved faster, with a kick right into his chest, sending Gallan flying through several trees.
He hit the ground with so much force that he shattered some ribs. His eyes rolled back, but he tried his best not to fall unconscious.
The clone was in the air, flying with dragon wings. He spotted Gallan and then flew down like a falcon about to catch its prey.
His sword was pointed downward like the beak of a bird, about to stab into Gallan.
Gallan tried to move out of the way, and at the last moment, he managed to shift a bit, causing the blade aimed for his chest to go into his shoulder.
Blood poured from it as he yelled in pain. The clone twisted the sword and pulled it out before kicking Gallan so hard on the head he passed out.
“That was brutal,” Drake commented.
“Yeah, well, he needed it. He is close to evolving, but it’s like he’s stuck at a bottleneck, so a push is needed, no matter how painful that push turns out to be,” Silva said.
They left Gallan’s body there and walked away. There were a few more people that had yet to get beat up, and Silva had to make sure they got beat up, pushing them past their other limit.
—
Ophelia sat on a chair with her eyes closed. She was inside what looked like a human-style living room.
A portal opened inside the room, and a dark figure walked in. It was completely black without eyes or any features.
It walked around the room as though it was enjoying the aesthetic and decorations until Ophelia finally spoke.
“What do you want?” she asked. The figure stopped moving for a while and then continued walking. After making a few more rounds, it stopped again, and then a male voice sounded in the room.
“It’s getting loose, the seal. I went to check on them, and it is getting weaker. You have to do something about it.”
“I know, but ever since the issue with the first dark dragon, Order has refused to allow me to tamper with my world to that extent.
I can’t remake the seal, and only I can actually fix the seal, or someone that can act as a channel. That is why Silva is there,” Ophelia said.
“Oh, your little puppet,” the figure responded.
“He is not a puppet. He is helping me fix things in my world. The mistakes we made and the ones we let happen have gathered up. Silva is our only chance at survival as it is,” Ophelia said.
“You can say what you want, but it doesn’t change the truth, and that is the fact that he is a puppet.
If he wasn’t a puppet, you would tell him all the truth and not hide the important information from him. He is running around not knowing what truly awaits him, especially about the demons and the celestials.
We both know that those two races are not what you let the world know. They are far, far more than that, and they’ll probably end up killing that boy,” the voice said.
“No, look at his growth. If he keeps this up, then everything will be fine. I’m certain of that,” Ophelia said.
“I don’t know when you got this delusional, but this kid is not the first dark dragon, and he can’t reach that level.
Even the first dark dragon failed at his endeavor in the end. This boy will not make it.
That’s all I came to say. I have to go and monitor the seals, since that’s all we can do. I pray it doesn’t break,” the voice said and was about to walk into a portal.
“He will be better than the first dark dragon, I’m certain,” Ophelia said just before the figure walked in and vanished.
Ophelia looked up at the ceiling; her face looked worried.