The clarity of the morning had not yet broken through the windows when Simon came to pick me up. He didn't say a word. His hand landed on my shoulder, firm, then he guided me through the silent corridors of Velathor.
The doors followed one another, all engraved with symbols that I had never seen. The guards moved away without a word. I felt the air change as we descended. Heavier. Denser. As if every step was yelling at me to turn around.
Finally, Simon stopped in front of a monumental arch. Two statues watched over, colossal, crossed chains on the chest. I had already seen this signature: the room of Enduriel.
Simon actively placed his hand on the door mechanism.
— Come in, kid.
I cross the arch.
The room was immense, but bare. Sumptuous frescoes, polished marble. The rough, dark stone and a throne carved from a single block, without ornament.
On this throne, a man.
His name was feared and respected. His power was spoken of as a calamity capable of crushing an entire army with a single movement of a finger. But seeing it up close...
He was not dressed like a king, but rather like a company boss. A perfect three-piece suit, dark and classy. Her slightly graying white hair, perfectly plated back. His eyes were masked by the lighting but one could detect his lavender-colored pupils there seemed to reflect the space and the stars that compose it. His presence, moreover, was unbearable, overwhelming.
He didn't move an inch. But I had the impression that the room was closing around me, as if its aura had decided that the air belonged to me less now.
— Iron is your name, that's it, he said.
My name, pronounced by him, sounded like a shock wave.
— You are the one who was pulled from the shallows. Simon sees potential in you, so I trust him. Helena also trained you, so I hope to believe in your abilities. But words are not enough for me. Neither are titles.
He bent down, his eyes sinking into mine.
— Do you want to be a real Vongold?
— Of course.
— So you have to prove your place. It's very simple with us, the Vongold, there aren't many things to remember:
Never refuse a fight.
Don't let anyone disrespect you.
And the most important one always protects your loved ones even at the risk of your life.
And if you are not able to do that, then I will personally take you back where you come from.
— I will keep this in mind, what should I do to prove my worth to you?
— You will head south, he continued, there is a beast that sows its yoke. A winged shadow that ravages our laboratories, burns our crops, destroys our trade routes. Some call it 'the young calamity', others 'Calamirya'. I want a fact. I want it to fall. And you will be the one who goes to bring me his head Iron.
My breath jammed.
— Pedro and Bruno will accompany you, he added. They know you well now from what I was told. They might hold you back before you give in or the other way round who knows...
A silence weighed. Then he concludes with a wide, clever smile, as if all this was just a plan on a larger chessboard:
— Don't forget Iron Vongold come back with the head of that thing. Or just don't come back.
— I... I will complete my task.
I went out, still shaken by his overwhelming aura, I caught my breath. Pedro was waiting for me, sitting on a railing, his chain wrapped around his forearm.
— So, spectre? Did you see the old lion?
I nodded.
Bruno appeared behind him, heavy, throws from behind.
— What did he say?
I swallow.
— He sent me to the affiliated regions south of Castrum. A beast that I must shoot down and bring back the head.
Pedro chuckled.
— A beast, huh? If our Patriarch Albus Vongold himself gave it to you, it's because he wants to forge a reputation for you.
Bruno frowned.
— And seeing how you look at us, he asked you to take us with you right. I'm in.
— Same, added Pedro. A Vongold never refuses a fight.
— You are far too enthusiastic, the monstrous holograms that Helena had made me fight during my training were not fun at all, I told them puzzled.
They did not hesitate. Not even a doubt animated them.
We prepared the day before.
Then the next day knocked on our windows.
The trip lasted several days.
We crossed the golden hills and mountains of the continent of Solterra, vineyards and olive groves, until the land changed. The valleys became barren. The fields burned. Entire abandoned areas, reduced to lifeless carcasses.
The air itself smelled of ash and fear.
The few survivors would hide away, whispering in a low voice when they saw us passing. An old woman grabs my arm, her crazy eyes fixed on me.
— She will come again...
I gently pushed her away. But her words remained.
Pedro tightened his chain.
— Even if he wanted to forge a reputation for you, he could have chosen something nicer. Did you see those craters?
Bruno, imperturbable, moved forward, his boots crushing the dust.
— We'll see what it is.
Me... I felt my stomach twisting. I was stressed to the point of breaking it. Waiting made me crazy. An expectation that crushed me from within.
Later...
We reached an immense gorge. The black cliffs rose on both sides, scratched by fire marks. The silence was total. Even the wind had fled.
Pedro whistled.
— Damn... what beast can do that?
Bruno raises his spear.
— Wait.
A rumble rose. Low, distant. Then closer. Like a thunder that tightens in a cage too narrow.
I looked up.
First, a shadow.
Then, ugly wings. Wider than a house.
A body composed of black scales, glowing under the light.
Eyes revealing a glimpse of hell, which burned like two suns about to go out.
An infernal breath. A breath of ash.
I was distraught. My heart beat louder and louder in my chest.
— It's not just a beast... I murmured.
The wings flapped, raising a dust hurricane.
— It's a fucking Dragon!!
My hands were trembling. No fear alone. Fear, yes. But also something else. A raw, unmentionable, violent excitement that I couldn't contain.
A Dragon. True. Real. And me... I had powers too. Me, I had a fracture in the flesh of the world. All my thoughts clashed in my skull in a grotesque fanfare.
And yet, I didn't know how to translate it but I wanted to see... see where this path I chose could lead me.
The fire accompanied by his roar rent the sky.
Then he spat flames full force at us.
It was a black blaze, a cataract of molten shadow. The rocks themselves began to cry, melt, spit liquid tears.
I rolled to the ground to dodge, my arm brushed against, covered in burning shards. Bruno raises his spear, plants his heel in the stone, and reels the breath of precision. Pedro, a stretched chain, grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me behind a cracked rock.
— Damn... he blew. It's not the monsters that are missing but a Young Dragon, it's too much honor for you to do us Iron!
— Did you say a young Dragon?!! Again I
The calamity clicked its wings, and the entire air was torn. We were thrown against the wall like insects crushed by a divine wind.
My skull rang. My vision blurred.
This body of black scales.
Those eyes, two dead suns.
These fangs capable of engulfing a car.
A Dragon, damn it...
I felt my heart explode. The feeling that I had rose, brutal, almost indecent.
From fear to excitement.
I had transcendental abilities. I repeat myself, but the idea was still unreal in my mind. And there, in front of me, stood a myth.
— Get up! shouted Bruno.
I clenched my teeth and straightened up. My hands were shaking.
Pedro jumps first. His chain emanating from his arm slices through the air, wrapping around the Dragon's wing. The steel vibrates, glowing in the heat. Pedro was laughing like a madman:
— Hahaha we manage not too badly I find!
The Dragon tore off his wing, and Pedro was dragged in the air, tossed like a cat. Bruno leaped in turn, his lance hitting the monster's thorax. A deafening noise: the tip bounced, burst into sparks.
I ran full speed. My body was incredibly faster than I would have imagined. My lungs were burning, my breath was a rattle. I opened my hand. And the fracture appeared. Inflamed, unstable. A blade burst forth, raw, flamboyant.
I knocked for the first time.
A column of flame bites the scale. A chip, a crack. Tiny. But a crack.
The Dragon howled. The cliffs shook, whole blocks fell into the gorge.
I was thrown back. My shoulder hit the stone. I heard Pedro laugh, Bruno growl.
And me... I began to laugh in turn.
A nervous, crazy laugh. Because I had hit a monster that was only seen in tales.
But the Dragon does not weaken for all that. Its wings spread. A cyclone burst out. The ground cracked, my feet left the land.
My body lifted up, carried away in the wind. But instead of falling, my arms opened up. And something responded within me.
Practically at the same moment, my spine vibrated in my chest. The emptiness itself seemed to carry me.
I wasn't falling anymore.
I was flying.
My breath stopped once again. And in this din, a new scar opened. Not a blade of fire. A translucent, sharp, sharp blade almost made of storm.
A blade of wind answered me.
It swirled around me, whistling, unstable, but sharp like a storm.
I screamed in the air, brandishing my two blades, fire and wind.
The Dragon smacked its head towards me. Its black breath burst forth.
I dived. My new flight ability didn't suit me: I felt like I could do that just by my own will. I avoided the torrent. The heat licked my back, burned my cape, but I was not engulfed.
I knocked.
The blade of fire cut a wing.
The blade of wind faucha gave a scar to the beast.
A howl. A rain of black blood.
I fell, picked up by the flight at the last moment. Pedro, hanging from his chain, yelled:
— YOU ARE FLYING, DAMN!??
Bruno, spear raised, planted his point in the crack I had opened earlier. This time, the steel bit. Blood gushed out in a burning geyser.
The Dragon wavered.
But he wasn't dead.
He flapped his wings, and the entire throat collapsed. Blocks of stone were rolling, the sky vibrated like the end of the world.
We were going to die. I knew it.
So I yelled as best I could.
My aura exploded around me. Several blades burst into orbit. Red and gold shards, swirling like fragments of molten glass.
The blades stood, in an arc of a circle, around me.
I knocked with all my strength.
The emptiness itself broke.
The Dragon howled one last time, too. Its wings folded back. Its titanic body crashed into the throat, raising a cloud of ash.
The silence fell again.
I was still floating, suspended in the air, my body trembling, covered in blood, my heart on the verge of explosion. Then I fell in turn.
Bruno caught me with an arm. Pedro, gasping for breath, bloody, burst out laughing madly.
— Damn... You're flying Iron... Do you have any idea what that means, spectre? YOU ARE CAPABLE OF FLYING, DAMN IT! HAHAHA!
I breathed hard. My torso was still standing only thanks to my ability to fly. Each muscle had reached its limits. My eyes were still burning, blood red.
I looked at the smoking corpse of the Dragon. Its wings torn, its dead eyes fixed on the sky.
A myth. Defeated by three young Vongold.
And me... covered in wounds and blood I was more alive than ever.
I was no longer afraid.
That's false. I had never seen anything so terrifying. But I had to get myself right somehow...
I had gotten stronger, I was ready for the next levels, for the first time, I had felt what it was to really exist.
I finally felt alive.
I murmured, my breath short:
— I can also fly... unbelievable...
Pedro and Bruno laughed again, even covered with wounds. But I knew.
It was just the beginning.
And somewhere, in a remote corner of my mind, a voice echoed, cold, relentless:
«Dragons are not even the real monsters of this world.»
The silence lasted after the fall.
A heavy, absolute silence.
The body of the Dragon lay at the bottom of the crater that I had created. Its black wings, folded like two pavilions. His dead eyes still stared at the clouds, two burnt orbits, lifeless. A smell of ash and calcined flesh saturated the air.
I ended up falling to my knees. My hands were trembling, my lungs were tearing apart with small fires. Every muscle in my body was screaming, my bones were vibrating like glass ready to burst.
Pedro collapsed next to me. His chest was lifting at a crazy pace, but his smile... his smile was that of a victorious madman.
— Not believable... he blew between two muffled laughs. We just put a fucking dragon down. A young dragon but still...
— Reassure me, we don't bang this every day, huh?? I tell him.
He straightened up as best he could, raised his chain in the air and made it slap against the rock, like a victory bell.
Bruno arrived behind him, covered in black blood, the lance broken but still smoking. He sat down heavily, his immense shoulders weighing like broken columns. His gaze went from the corpse of the Dragon to me.
He did not speak. He simply placed his hand on my shoulder. His grip was heavy, firm, but not brutal.
— Well done...
I did not have the strength to respond. But I felt in this gesture all the certainty that I could not formulate.
The area still bore the scars of the fight. The cliffs had collapsed in whole sections, the rocks were smoking like embers. The ground was a graveyard of ashes and black flames.
We remained immobile for a long time. Too exhausted to move. Too empty to even speak. My body wanted to collapse, fall asleep, and never get back up. But my eyes remained fixed on the beast.
Every beat of my heart screamed that it wasn't real. And yet, the corpse was there. His flesh was smoking, his black blood still flowing, viscous, like a cursed river.
I will never forget this image.
— We bring him back, said Bruno at last.
His voice was low, but every word sounded obvious.
Pedro burst out with a sharp laugh.
— What? This thing weighs as much as you!
Bruno turned his gaze towards him. Not a word. Not a threat. But Pedro looked away, still laughing.
— OK, OK... Let's bring him back.
I took a painful breath. My eyes were still burning, but my legs were trembling. Yet, I nodded.
— Come on, let's finish it.
We spent hours securing it. Pedro used his chain, Bruno his brute force. Me, I made my wind blade appear, still unstable, to slice the rocks and clear the carcass. Each invocation emptied me, leaving me breathless, but I started again.
The night fell. The flames of the Dragon had died out, but its carcass still glowed like a blaze of ashes. We set up a precarious bivouac at the edge of the throat. None of us really slept. With our eyes closed, I still heard the howl of the beast.
Pedro, lying on his back, blew in the dark:
— You were flying, spectre... hardly any of us can do that...
I did not respond. I thought back to that moment when my feet had left the earth, where my will had carried me.
I didn't realize yet what it meant. But Pedro was right. I had stolen like a God.
At dawn, we set out again. The Dragon, dragged by our combined forces, glided over the stone like a tree torn down in its place. The survivors of the surrounding areas came out of their ruins to see us pass. Some were crying with joy, others fell to their knees.
I looked down. I wasn't a savior. I was only a survivor. But in their eyes, I saw for the first time something that I had never known.
Not contempt.
Nor of hatred.
Of recognition.
When we entered the gates of Velathor, silence fell. Everyone saw. The black corpse, dragged like a trophy. The blood of the myth staining our bodies.
Pedro was laughing, Bruno was walking, head held high. I felt my legs flop. But I held on. Because above us, in the heights of the fortress, a figure was watching us.
Albus Vongold.
His gaze was filled with joy. A smile, a pride. His mere presence commanded respect, authority and this man had recognized me.
And in my skull, this voice echoed again:
«Dragons are not even the real monsters of this world.»