The earth roared as mountains crumbled, a cacophony of destruction. Millicent staggered back hundreds of meters, raising her arm to shield her face. Even her iron will faltered. Under the pale moonlight, a gargantuan beast writhed—a dragon, yes, but one consumed by berserk rage. Terrifying became an understatement.
Every part of it lashed out—tail, claws, wings, its monstrous head. Each strike shook the ground, pulverizing everything in its path. Despair clung to the air like a fog. Millicent clenched her jaw, her hand trembling as she tightened it into a fist. Her mind emptied.
"Go up and help!" she shouted, moving against the chaos. Two steps in, a cannonball hurtled toward her. Bang. Bang. Bang. Throne bounced across the ground like a stone skipping over water. Someone caught him, and they both flew together, the collapsing earth roaring in their ears.
He crashed through a wooden wall, splinters exploding into the sky. Only by driving his greatsword into the ground did he finally stop. He looked up. The shallow craters he'd left were spaced ten meters apart, the final sword mark stretching even longer.
A hundred meters beyond, the dragon raged.
"This health bar is just too thick, isn't it?"
Throne wiped blood from his forehead. His helmet was gone, his breastplate dented. His insides felt like they'd been kneaded into a ball. The pain nearly knocked him out.
Behind him, Millicent stumbled, bloodied. She'd underestimated the inertia, trying to catch Throne only to fall and crack her head.
"Don't be reckless," he growled. "This isn't something you can handle."
He drank a flask of crimson tears, tossed the remaining half to her, and leaned on his sword to stand.
"I told you not to come."
Melina appeared beside him, her spirit form unharmed, but blood streamed from her torn left rib.
"You're hurt?"
"Yeah, I was slow. Who knew this thing would go berserk?"
Chaos was its strength. Without pattern, overwhelming power made it untouchable.
"It's too late for regrets," Throne muttered, watching Greyoll rise a dozen meters into the air. For the dragon, it was no different than hovering close to the ground.
Its charging stance—a creature hundreds of times larger than a Crucible Knight—was pure terror.
"Today, either it dies, or I die," Throne said. Greyoll surged forward, skimming the ground like a scythe.
It wasn't a runaway truck. Before the dragon arrived, the wind distorted Throne's face. A mountain flew at them, unstoppable. He glanced at Millicent. Her grip on her sword didn't waver, her teeth clenched as if she could strike the dragon down with a single blow.
But just as her hand raised, Throne grabbed her collar.
"Idiot, don't try to be a hero!"
He stomped the ground with all his might, shattering it into a pit several meters deep. As they fell, the space above darkened.
The hurricane roared overhead like a freight train barreling through the sky. The deafening rumble forced Throne to shout.
"Stay back! This fight's not for you!"
Even Malenia would struggle against such a foe - human-specialized fighters always choked against behemoths. Moonveil and Rivers of Blood remained sheathed at his hips.
Greyoll demanded brute force, anything less would just tickle it. Throne vaulted from the pit, swiped his ring, and summoned Godrick's Golden Axe. The dragon was already banking westward with no intention of turning - not truly berserk then. Its fading vitality made every ounce of strength precious.
Devouring Throne offered no advantage when Lansseax waited elsewhere. Hefting the axe, Throne whistled for Torrent and charged, hurling the weapon with all his might. The spinning blade whistled through the air before slamming into Greyoll's spine. The impact staggered the low-flying beast, sending it crashing earthward in a thunderous impact.
Dirt sprayed as the dragon carved a furrow through the ground. It shook its massive head, then snapped around with sudden violence. Throne met those rage-red eyes across the battlefield, greatsword leveled like a lance.
"Leaving? Nobody gave you permission."
Confusion mingled with fury in Greyoll's gaze. Why would this insignificant human persist? Even knowing he stood no chance, he clung like a burr to its hide. Lansseax had no mortal lovers - was this fool really throwing his life away for her?
"Persistent gnat! I'll shred you first!"
Bestial instinct overrode the Mother of Dragons' reason. She'd marked Lansseax's escape vector - straight toward her brood. No single combatant could withstand dozens of dragons. Throne's pulse hammered against his ribs.
"Finally going all out? This might actually be fun."
The dragon's speed was the real threat. Unless pinned down, it would regroup with its kin within minutes. Then regardless of Lansseax's fate, the scales would tip irrevocably. Ancient Dragons could take wing and flee, but Throne only had one spectral steed and dead weight to protect.
"Flank it! No frontal assault!"
Torrent needed no urging - that psychic crush meant instant death. They began circling as Greyoll heaved upright, only for the rider to produce a glintstone staff. The magic threshold still ached, but harassment spells remained viable. Comet Azur Barrage!
Meteors detonated above Greyoll's skull. Professor-level sorcery barely registered - scales cracked minutely, momentum dipped fractionally. The dragon's blade-like wing missed Torrent by meters, gouging trenches deep enough to swallow a man whole. Too close.
Throne expelled another frost cloud. As Greyoll's jaws snapped toward them, he unleashed Starlight. His signature move now burned a hundred times brighter after countless upgrades. The Mother of Dragons flinched, eyes slamming shut against the searing radiance.
The moment its eyes closed, a sword struck its head with brutal force, reopening a wound already deep and raw.
"Its healing's worse than any dragon I've seen. Is its life force fading?"
Throne absorbed every detail, fingers tightening on the reins.
"Torrent, leap!"
The Spirit Steed obeyed instantly, launching itself meters into the air.
Below them, the dragon's tail lashed across the ground with a deafening crash, shattering a boulder into fragments. Gravel pinged against Throne's armor, but he didn't flinch. As Torrent's hooves touched earth—
"Sprint!" Throne barked.
Torrent surged forward, muscles straining. Behind them, the gravel kicked up by their charge was sucked back to the ground, pulled by the dragon's oppressive force.
"Don't look back. Keep moving."
"It's desperate—that's our opening!"
Man and steed moved as one. Throne glanced over his shoulder just as the dragon's head snapped toward them.
"Side step."
The dragon's claw slammed into the earth, sending dust billowing.
"Jump!"
Torrent launched again, narrowly avoiding the tail that sliced through the air, cleaving a watchtower in two. Greyoll's jaws opened wide, and Throne reacted instantly, pulling out the Ant's Skull Shield and activating Starlight movement to retreat dozens of meters.
"Split up!"
A pillar of fire, ten meters thick, erupted from the dragon's maw, scorching everything in its path. Trees and debris, damp from yesterday's rain, ignited instantly. The flames spread as the dragon's neck whipped back and forth, transforming the abandoned camp into a sea of fire. Millicent, crouched in a pit, pressed herself flat against the ground, feeling as if the sun itself had descended to hover above her, baking her alive. The same breath attack, but the scale of destruction was incomparable.
She peeked out, her eyes widening at the inferno. The wooden walls crackled and burned like torches, everything reduced to ash. A hundred meters away, a shield glowed with residual fire. Moments later, Throne tossed the scorched shield aside.
"Damn it. The range of that breath is insane."
His body steamed, heat radiating from his skin. His black ponytail was singed, and the wind extinguished the lingering flames on his armor. His eyes burned with determination as he stared ahead.
"But you can't keep that up forever!"
Though Greyoll was in better shape than when it had fought the Tarnished, the breath attack still drained its energy. Its eyes, wild and desperate, flickered with frustration. This human couldn't be crushed, burned, or smashed. He was a persistent fly, yet one that could inflict real harm.
"He's here."
Ranni's voice echoed.
Those few words sharpened Throne's focus. He leaned low, ready to charge.
"In The Lands Between, no one outlasts me in a war of attrition."
Seizing the moment while steam still curled from Greyoll's mouth, he moved. Staff in one hand, greatsword in the other, he surged forward in a frenzy of motion.
The dragon spread its wings, blotting out the sky. It had no desire to prolong this fight. Not only was it draining its energy, but every encounter left it stung—small wounds accumulating into something unbearable.
The wings beat, generating a gale that slammed into Throne like an invisible wall. But he didn't charge head-on. Instead, pebbles kicked up by the wind were drawn together, forming stone balls that shot back at the dragon with even greater speed. Greyoll's strength wasn't in these ranged attacks; it should have been using psychic pressure to slow its foes, then crushing them with sheer physical dominance. But Throne was slippery, forcing it to adapt.
The dragon roared, its frustration palpable. Throne grinned, teeth bared.
"You're running out of tricks."
"Feel like trading long-range shots with me?"
Throne stabbed his staff into the dirt.
"Bad news for you—I've got no weak spots."
Collapsing Stars. Meteorites ripped from the void slammed into the stone blocks at the center. The shockwave from the impact raged outward, but magic doesn't bow to physics.
The dust cleared in an instant. Throne's staff was already raised high. Even with damaged magic circuits, Lusat's amplification was more than enough. Comet Azur. Haima's Explosion. Two-second intervals. Two high-level spells detonated on Greyoll's chest, ripping through flesh and bone, sending a crimson mist into the air. The creature staggered.
Throne didn't waste the opening. He downed a flask of crimson tears, tossed it aside, and vanished. A pillar of fire scorched the ground where he'd stood—short-lived but lethal. Throne had anticipated it the moment Greyoll opened its jaws. He reappeared behind the beast, his staff now a deep blue greatbow. Loretta's Greatbow.
The three-meter arrow, charged with magic, tore into Greyoll's neck. The creature roared, its head snapping around a hundred meters away. Flames erupted alongside bursts of starlight. Millicent peeked from her hiding spot, her mouth slightly agape.
"Teacher lied. He's no swordsman."
The battlefield burned with chaos. Greyoll's flames carved scorched trenches into the earth, while Throne flickered in and out of existence, darting with Bloodhound's Step. High-level magic flew from his hands like cheap tricks. Deep blue and crimson clashed, the shattered magic particles forming a hazy mist.
"You think you can outlast me?" Throne laughed, gripping his staff. Before Sellia, he'd have been drained by now. But the primeval glintstone had changed everything. His magic reserves dwarfed even a professor's. The glintstone wasn't fully developed, but its power was undeniable. 'This can't go on.' Greyoll's frustration grew.
This human was too small a target and moved too fast. Even if it could collapse mountains and break rivers, it was useless if it couldn't hit him. Instead, it stood there taking shot after shot, its body riddled with wounds inflicted by magic.