Chapter 84
The ground trembled beneath the weight of two beings whose clash tore through silence like thunder through the heavens.
The ruined hall, once a cathedral of gods, now lay fractured and bruised—its marble pillars split, its stained glass reduced to dust.
And in the center of that destruction stood Dracan, the Knight of the Dragon Flame, his armor gleaming faintly beneath the flickering fires that refused to die.
Before him bloodied, breathing heavily, yet standing was Renji Kurogane.
Two men.
Two wills.
Two reasons to exist.
But only one of them truly understood what it meant to be power.
Dracan's voice carried through the haze like a low thunder.
"You've lasted longer than I expected, human."
Renji didn't answer. His chest heaved, daggers clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white. His left arm trembled from strain, his legs wobbled, and each breath burned like a knife.
Yet still… he stood.
Dracan tilted his head slightly, dragon-like eyes glowing with faint amusement.
"You stand in the presence of something far beyond you, yet your eyes…"
He stepped forward—the weight of his presence alone cracked the ground beneath his feet.
"…still burn as if you can defy me."
Renji adjusted his stance, sliding one foot backward, lowering his daggers in a reverse grip. Blood trickled from his lips as he whispered through his breath:
"I don't… plan to defy you."
Then his eyes met Dracan's.
"I plan to reach you."
Dracan's smirk faded. "Reach me!" The faint echo of that word—reach—hung in the air longer than it should have.
And then—without warning—Renji moved.
He exploded forward, his body becoming a blur of speed. The sound of his step shattered stone, and in an instant, his blades clashed against Dracan's greatsword.
Steel met steel. Sparks scattered like tiny stars.
Dracan barely moved his wrist, deflecting both strikes with a single, effortless motion. Renji used the rebound to spin and slash again, one dagger for the throat, one for the ribs—Dracan parried both.
"Too slow," he muttered.
His counter came like lightning.
A twist of the wrist, a slash from his gauntlet, a crushing kick to Renji's midsection.
The mortal's body flew backward, crashing into the floor with enough force to fracture the marble. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he rolled, groaning—but he was already up before Dracan's next step landed.
"Persistent."
Renji dashed again, refusing to yield. He slid under Dracan's swing, slashing upward, then kicked at his knee—each movement sharp, deliberate, precise. But Dracan's movements were otherworldly. He deflected everything, as though Renji's strikes were raindrops on a mountain.
When Dracan's fist came down, it felt like the sky itself collapsing. Renji crossed his daggers to block—too late.
The impact sent him sprawling.
Stone exploded around him.
He coughed violently, ribs cracking, the edges of his vision darkening.
Still, he stood.
Dracan's gaze narrowed.
"You stand again…"
He took a slow step forward, each step echoing with authority and disbelief.
"Even after that?"
Renji's only answer was the sound of his breath, ragged but steady.
He raised his daggers again, legs trembling beneath him, the light in his eyes undimmed.
Something stirred in Dracan's chest—a faint whisper, buried deep beneath centuries of battle.
"He knows the difference between us," Dracan murmured to himself. "And yet…"
His voice deepened.
"He comes against me with pride, knowing he can't win."
For the first time in centuries, Dracan felt something flicker inside him—curiosity.
Their blades met again.
But this time, it was not mere combat.
There was meaning in every movement.
Renji's strikes were heavy with emotion
conviction, grief, something Dracan could not yet name.
Each dagger swing came with rhythm and purpose, as though the mortal's body itself remembered why it refused to fall.
And Dracan… felt it.
Every parry, every counter, told him something—this man was not fighting for glory or vengeance.
There was understanding behind his blade.
Their weapons locked, sparks raining between their faces.
"Your strikes…" Dracan said softly, eyes glinting behind his helm.
"…they are not empty."
Renji's teeth clenched. "You talk too much!"
He twisted free, lunging with a flurry of slashes.
Dracan stepped back once, twice, letting Renji come closer. Then—he shifted.
A single backhand strike.
The air screamed.
Renji barely saw it coming before the blow connected...sending him flying into a pillar with bone-shattering force. The column cracked, crumbled, and collapsed.
Dust filled the air.
Renji fell to his knees, body shaking, coughing blood. His arms refused to move, his vision flickered but still, he reached for his daggers.
Dracan exhaled slowly. His voice was low, unreadable.
"He stood up again?"
His tone carried neither mockery nor pity—only quiet disbelief.
"So be it."
He straightened his back, the aura around him thickening until the air itself bent.
"Playtime is over, Renji Kurogane."
Renji barely had time to breathe before Dracan moved.
He vanished—no, blurred. One moment he was in front of Renji, the next he was a shadow behind him.
Renji turned instinctively, daggers raised—but too slow.
Dracan's hand closed around his throat mid-air, catching him like a child catching a falling leaf.
Renji's eyes widened as his feet dangled off the ground. He struggled, gasping, clawing at Dracan's arm, but the knight's grip was unyielding.
But he kept seeing them, the eyes of Dracan
They were not human eyes.
They were the eyes of something ancient. Dragon-like slits glowing faintly, reflecting both fury and sorrow.
"Why do you fight," Dracan said, his voice a mixture of power and pain, "knowing you cannot win?"
Before Renji could answer, Dracan swung him sideways.
The impact shattered another pillar.
The crash echoed like thunder.
"Why do you fight!?" Dracan roared, slamming him again—another pillar broke.
Dust exploded. The walls shook.
Dracan's voice rose with fury, his control slipping.
"Why do you fight, Renji Kurogane!?"
He slammed him again—stone and blood mixing in the air.
"WHYYYYYY?!"
The sound of his scream reverberated through the ruined hall, shaking even the foundations beneath their feet.
Renji's body finally went limp, crumpling amidst the rubble.
He lay motionless, the taste of blood thick in his mouth.
His vision flickered.
But the faint sound of footsteps Dracan's footsteps pulled him back from unconsciousness.
A shadow loomed over him.
Dracan reached down, grabbing Renji by the neck once more, lifting him easily off the ground.
"You realize…" he said slowly, his voice cold, trembling slightly with restrained emotion,
"…I could have torn you limb from limb."
He leaned closer, his eyes glowing brighter.
"But yet you fight."
His grip tightened, crushing air from Renji's lungs..
"Why do you fight, Renji Kurogane!?"
Renji clawed weakly at his hand. He couldn't breathe, couldn't speak—the sound of his heartbeats roared louder than the world itself.
Dracan's jaw clenched. He noticed.
He released him.
Renji fell hard—hitting the floor in a cloud of dust.
He coughed violently, gasping, his throat bruised and raw.
Dracan watched him in silence. His shadow stretched across the broken ground like a mountain's outline.
"Why do you fight, Renji Kurogane?" he asked once more.
"What drives a mortal to face something like me?"
Renji tried to speak—but the words caught in his throat.
He could only look up at the towering figure before him, trembling, helpless.
Dracan's expression darkened.
For the first time, he considered ending it.
He bent down, picking up Renji's fallen daggers. The small blades looked like fragile ornaments in his massive, clawed hands.
He stared at them for a moment, their edges glinting faintly in the dim light—symbols of a mortal's futile courage.
Then he turned them downward, his arm steady.
"You've earned my respect," he said quietly. "But not my mercy."
He raised the dagger, positioning the point just above Renji's throat.
The glow from his dragon eyes reflected off the steel tip.
Renji's breath hitched.
He could feel the cold bite of death closing in.
Dracan's voice rumbled low, final:
"Any last words?"
And then—
Renji screamed.
A sound that didn't come from strength, but from the depths of something far greater.
"FAMILY!!!"
The word tore through the silence, raw, desperate, and filled with life.
Dracan froze mid-motion.
The dagger halted, its tip hovering a breath's distance from Renji's neck.
Renji gasped, his chest heaving as he forced the words through broken breaths.
"I… fight… because of my family…"
His voice trembled, but his eyes—burned brighter than ever.
"Because they're gone… and they believed in me… because if I stop here… their deaths mean nothing…"
He coughed, struggling to breathe.
"That's why… I can't fall…"
Dracan said nothing.
His eyes those ancient dragon eyes softened for just a heartbeat.
He slowly lowered the dagger, his gaze fixed on the battered mortal before him.
Renji's words lingered in the air, echoing through the hollow ruins like a prayer whispered by the dying.
The fires dimmed.
The dust settled.
Only the sound of Renji's uneven breathing remained.