Draktharion's gaze sharpened, but then narrowed.
'Fire again?'
He was a dragon.
Only Atticus's fire had ever managed to hurt him.
This hellfire… didn't wound him.
But its effects were different. Draktharion felt it instantly.
His stamina plummeted. His will wavered.
Something clawed at his mind. A strange weight.
Viktor's hellfire was more than just fire, it attacked his stamina and will. He felt his will to fight dwindle.
Draktharion's expression darkened.
His chest expanded. Crimson veins pulsed across his body.
Smoke curled from his mouth.
And then;
ROAAAAARRRR!!!
A colossal torrent of dragonfire exploded from his maw, roaring toward Viktor like a tidal wave of molten death.
Viktor's eyes widened.
He crossed his arms in front of him and was engulfed.
BOOM!
The forest shattered. Trees disintegrated. The earth split.
Viktor was sent hurtling backward, crashing through trees, skidding across dirt.
Smoke and ash billowed high into the air.
But then…
As the dust cleared, he rose.
Scorched. Blackened. But standing.
Steam rose from his skin. Smoke rolled from his shoulders.
He reached up and ripped off the remnants of his burnt uniform, revealing his chiseled obsidian toned muscles, hardened.
His crimson eyes gleamed with fury, no longer seeming sane.
His voice rumbled:
"Demonic Will."
His form transformed. His muscles hardened further, bulging. His eyes burned with primal madness.
His presence became feral. Unhinged. A berserker of war.
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He roared.
They both moved again.
And the forest exploded.
…
The skies were dark.
Thunder rumbled endlessly overhead.
Raindrops fell in a relentless cascade, cold, heavy, eternal.
The world was a barren expanse of cracked earth. No trees. No structures. No life. Just an empty land swallowed by gloom.
Then, roars shattered the silence.
A wave of warriors surged from the far horizon, thundering toward a lone figure standing at the center of it all.
They poured from every direction, armor clanking, weapons gleaming, eyes burning with bloodlust.
But the one they charged toward… stood utterly still.
Unmoving. Unshaken. Eyes cold enough to freeze suns.
Atticus Ravenstein.
His gaze was fixed upward toward the thunderous skies, a storm waging behind his expression.
'Ozeroth.' His voice echoed sharply within.
"I know," came the spirit's reply, calm but grim. "But it's futile. Only an external force can free us now."
Atticus's fists clenched. His knuckles cracked violently.
He didn't need to guess.
He knew.
He knew who was responsible.
Somehow, impossibly, Atticus could see everything beyond the orb. Everything that had happened.
Kael's unrelenting bravery.
Zoey's desperation.
Aurora's near deaths.
He had watched it all.
Every.
Single.
Moment.
And he had raged.
He had unleashed all the might he had amassed through his entire reincarnated life.
And still, nothing.
Not a crack in the prison. Not a scratch.
"Carius…" he growled beneath his breath.
"FUCK!"
His foot slammed into the ground.
BOOOOOOM!
A colossal shockwave surged out, obliterating the charging warriors into red mist and ash.
Yet…
They respawned.
In the far distance, they reappeared, charging again with the same thunderous roar.
"SHUT UP!!"
He stomped again, death incarnate, annihilating them.
They returned.
Again. And again.
"SHIT!!"
His voice roared through the dead world.
They were an endless army of insects, weak, pathetic, but persistent.
Their roars weren't dangerous.
Their weapons weren't fatal.
But they were irritating. Relentlessly irritating. And they were keeping him from thinking.
He wanted to rampage. He wanted to scream.
"Calm down, Bond!" Ozeroth's voice thundered in his mind.
Atticus froze.
"Can't you see it? This is exactly what he wants. He wants you to lose control. To break. To burn out your own will in rage."
"We're in this already," Ozeroth said. "You don't break your way out of this. You think your way forward."
Atticus's fists shook. His eyes burned. But… he exhaled.
He knew Ozeroth was right.
'I almost lost control.'
The desperation outside had gotten to him. The thought of his close ones being slaughtered, of Aurora dying, had pushed him close to the edge.
'Viktor is holding him off… but he'll lose. It's only a matter of time.'
And the island, Atticus had seen it, it was falling from the sky.
Something else was happening. Something catastrophic.
'Carius isn't the only threat.' Atticus was certain of this. The battle between Grandmasters wasn't enough to cause this kind of devastation. Something else had occurred.
He clenched his fists tighter, gaze narrowing toward the sky, toward where Viktor and Draktharion's titanic battle waged above.
'If I don't return soon… everyone dies.'
But for now, he had no choice. He slammed his foot again, blowing the warriors away one more time.
Then, he took a breath.
And closed his eyes.
'I'll trust them. For the first time… I'll trust someone else to save me.'
It was a foreign thought. One he didn't think he would ever have. A terrifying one. But in this current situation, it was necessary. In the past, he had never waited on someone to come save him. It was a first.
'I'll focus on my elements.'
However, Atticus had no plans of sitting idle.
Instead, he had to prepare for whatever threat was waiting for him when he leaves this place.
'If it's like this, then it might be worse than I thought.'
Unlike the other recruits, Atticus knew of the presence of the other Paragons in the military camp. He hadn't said anything because he didn't think it was necessary.
However, despite the overwhelming number of Paragons, the situation was still this dire.
He had to be prepared.
Ozeroth smirked in his mind. "Leave those bugs to me."
And as the army surged forward again, a wave of spiritual energy burst out like a storm, erasing everything in its path.
"Of course it'd be me doing the heavy lifting. Witness my greatness," Ozeroth chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
Atticus shook his head faintly, smirking for a brief second… then fell silent again. He knew what Ozeroth was trying to do and appreciated it.
And as he took his meditative stance, all sounds faded.
The wind vanished.
The rain stopped.
Even the rumble of thunder seemed to mute itself.
Only silence remained.
And then… Atticus began.