Chapter 58: Rocky Drake

{Some Time Prior, Estate of the Carmilla Royal Faction's Western Gate}

—Bova Tannin—

Bova was tense.

Not because the enemy was stronger or had greater numbers — but because they were acting stupid.

"Slaughter them!"

Bova said nothing. He didn't join the hunt right away. Instead, he hung back and observed — something he didn't enjoy, but his father's words echoed in his mind: 'War begins with understanding the enemy.'

And right now, he couldn't understand them.

"Burn them all!"

The commanders of his legions were having the time of their lives, cutting down enemies that rushed at them like fools. The enemy wasn't surrendering or letting themselves be killed outright — they fought back — but their movements were still strange, clumsy, and reckless.

Thousands had already fallen. Manias Tepes, the eldest son of the Tepes faction, stood at the rear, scowling as he barked orders for more of his troops to charge to their deaths.

'Something's wrong.'

As much as Bova enjoyed watching the enemy's death toll rise, the unease in his gut only grew stronger.

He turned to his captain. "Do you notice anything strange?"

The captain — an unusually old vampire with gray hair and deep wrinkles, a rare sight among their kind — squinted toward the enemy line.

"The formation's odd," he said slowly. "One I haven't seen before. But our troops are countering it perfectly. We trained for this kind of aggressive offense for years — their formation is weak against us."

'Then they should know that too… unless—'

Bova's frown deepened as he studied the battlefield. The formation itself wasn't complicated — a simple hedge advance, direct and forceful. But something about the pattern of deaths, the way the bodies were falling, didn't sit right.

By the time he realized what it was, Manias's grin spread wide.

"Fuck!" Bova snarled. "Troops, fall back!"

Manias burst into laughter. "Perfect!"

The formation wasn't meant to break their defense — it was meant to feed something. The soldiers weren't failing by mistake; they were sacrifices.

As the enemy fell, their blood soaked into the ground, pooling into precise lines between the corpses. Bova rose higher, looking down from above — and then he saw it.

"Get rid of the corpses!" he roared. But it was too late.

"Too late!" Manias's eyes glowed crimson. "Chant!"

At once, the blood and bodies lit up, pulsing with red light as the remaining Tepes soldiers chanted.

The fallen had formed a massive five-pointed star — a pentagram. Bova, who had never cared much for studying magic or blood rites, didn't recognize it until it began to tremble. The earth shook beneath his feet.

"Blood magic will always be superior to runes, you fools!" Manias laughed. "Your restrictions mean nothing!"

He wasn't wrong.

Blood magic was difficult to perform, demanding enormous preparation and sacrifice — which was why most avoided it. But when executed correctly, it could override almost any form of runic magic.

And that's exactly what it did.

While the sacrifice wasn't enough to erase the teleportation barriers completely, it was more than enough to open a gateway — a tear into the battlefield from somewhere unknown.

From that rift emerged something monstrous.

A massive, rocky creature stepped through — its scales jagged like stone, its body cracking the earth beneath it.

A dragon, formed entirely from rock and earth.

It was twice Bova's size in his dragon form, gray and brown, oddly proportioned but terrifying nonetheless — a creature that wouldn't fall to blades or fire.

"Welcome, Vrawl!" Manias howled with laughter. "Welcome to the battlefield!"

Bova's eyes narrowed. The creature had no wings — more a massive drake than a dragon — but its presence was enough to shake the ground beneath them.

But there were scars and cracks where its wings should have been, so Bova figured its wings were torn off — meaning it wasn't a drake.

Just a dragon that had lost its wings.

Worse, the dragon wasn't weak.

"So… long…" its voice dragged out. "It has… been so long… since I tasted… flesh."

It wasn't a young dragon. It was old — ancient — and there was something twisted and perverse in the way it drooled at the sight of vampires and devils around it.

"I'll handle it," Bova said, immediately spreading his wings wide and charging toward the dragon.

Arrows flew toward him as he cut through the sky, but his dragon scales absorbed them easily. To him, they were nothing more than an irritation.

Ignoring the arrows, he closed in on the massive beast.

"That presence…" The dragon's slit eyes sharpened. "Tannin?"

Bova froze at the mention of his father's name.

"No," the stone dragon said, taking a deep sniff. "Weaker… younger."

"How do you know that name?" Bova asked, flying higher than the dragon could reach.

The dragon tilted its head up toward the red-haired youth with crimson wings.

"Red wings and hair… a nasty stench…" it growled. "What are you to Tannin?"

Bova wanted to snap back — to say he should be the one asking questions — but every second wasted meant more lives lost below. So he answered.

"His youngest son."

The drake's eyes glinted with something wicked.

"Ah… Ah!" The drake broke into laughter, shaking the sky with its roar. "I see! I see why he sent me here! Why he chose me for this!"

Bova wanted to ask who he meant, but that wasn't important right now. Faiser had already warned him that dragons could appear — and now, that warning had come true.

Then came the answer, carried on a grin that revealed sharp, obsidian teeth.

"Your father… he was the one who ripped off my wings." The dragon's tone twisted into something cruel. "And I shall thank Rizevim for sending me here — for giving me a chance to tear apart Tannin's son!"

Bova didn't expect the dragon to move so fast. Before he could react, the drake's maw opened, and a blinding stream of draconic breath burst forth.

He couldn't dodge — the distance was too short. He raised his wings, scales hardening, and blocked the attack midair.

Fire raged around him, and he felt shards of rock and stone shoot out with the blast, tearing through his flesh and wings.

"Kill that damned dragon, Vrawl!" Manias roared from below. "And I'll slaughter the rest of these beasts!"

Bova clenched his teeth. He knew his army wouldn't last without him — Manias had the numbers.

'I have to end this fast!'

He filled his lungs with air until his chest swelled, the pressure burning in his throat.

The drake only stared at him, grinning. Bova didn't think twice — he released a Demonic Dragon's Breath.

The blast was so hot it didn't even leave ashes behind. Rock and soil melted wherever the flames touched.

But the drake didn't even move. It took the attack head-on. When the fire cleared, Bova froze.

The creature stood untouched. Its rocky scales were unburnt — not even a single mark or melt.

"That breath…" the drake said with a deep rumble. "It's hotter than Tannin's."

Bova's eyes widened. He was at a loss for words.

The dragon's body hadn't changed at all. Not even a scratch.

"But you are weaker than him!" the rock drake cackled, slamming his massive tail into the ground. The earth cracked apart, shards of rock lifting into the air. "And you will die for that!"

The sharp pieces of rock shot toward him like a barrage of bullets. Bova thought about tanking the hit but quickly sensed the draconic energy surrounding the shards. It wasn't a normal attack — it was enhanced.

So, using every ounce of strength he could muster, he slammed his wings downward, creating a burst of wind strong enough to hurl him high into the air.

He barely dodged the attack — but that might not have been as good of a move as he thought.

"Foolish!"

Bova didn't understand what he meant until the shards finally lost momentum and began to rain down.

"Fuck!" Bova's eyes widened as the shards fell into his army, tearing through soldiers like bullets and killing them on the spot.

"You are nothing like your father!" the dragon mocked. "You're weaker, slower, and dumber!"

Bova clenched his fists, unable to argue. He knew he wasn't on his father's level — Tannin would've figured out the drake's trick long before it harmed their troops.

He lacked experience. He knew that. But that didn't mean he was about to give up.

He was Faiser's rook — and he had accepted that position with one promise: that he wouldn't be mistreated, and that he'd get to fight strong opponents.

Now, facing one of the strongest he'd ever seen, he couldn't afford to lose. A defeat here wouldn't just stain his name — it would be an insult to Faiser himself.

Faiser had kept his word. Bova couldn't let his King down.

His gaze dropped to the battlefield below. His soldiers were being pushed back by Manias' men. They'd hold for a while, but every minute he wasted meant more of Faiser's legion fell.

"What happened?" the drake called out. "Scared, boy?"

The taunt worked — Bova could feel his anger rising — but he forced himself to stay calm.

His advantage was the sky. The drake couldn't fly without wings. He scanned the creature again, hoping to find a weak point where its wings had been torn off, but even that spot was now covered in thick, rocky armor.

The drake's defense was monstrous — nearly impenetrable.

"If you won't attack…" the dragon's obsidian fangs glinted under the blood moon. "Then I will!"

He slammed his tail again, and massive spikes shot up from the ground, aiming straight for Bova.

Bova darted through the air, dodging from side to side, wings slicing the air as he weaved between the spikes.

His advantage was speed. The drake was much slower — its massive body traded mobility for sheer defense and brute strength.

'How did Father even rip out those wings?' he wondered, scanning the dragon again. Then he noticed it — faint lines along the rocky scales.

"Tannin raised a coward!" the drake roared, releasing another draconic breath.

Draconic breath was always dangerous. It moved in a straight line, but the dragon could shift its direction mid-attack, making it nearly impossible to dodge completely.

The only saving grace was that it didn't last forever. When the dragon ran out of breath, the flames finally stopped.

Still, the debris from the blast cut into Bova's body, leaving shallow wounds even through his scales.

In turn, he was able to see the lines more clearly.

They weren't just simple markings — they were tiny cracks between each rocky scale, like the seams of a puzzle after the pieces are placed together.

Bova spent the next few minutes dodging and defending against attacks while his army suffered below. But that time wasn't wasted — he learned a few things.

'Father didn't break the rocks… he ripped the wings along the lines.'

"Why are you running!" the drake roared, releasing another breath.

This time, Bova didn't dodge.

"Demonic Dragon's Breath!"

He countered with his own, and as risky as it was, he didn't lose.

While the drake's rocky scales couldn't melt, the shards fired from its mouth couldn't withstand Bova's magma-like flame. They melted midair, and both breaths collided — cancelling each other out and flooding the sky with smoke and steam.

That was all Bova needed.

He shot through the thick fog, soaring high before diving straight down, fist blazing with power.

'Work!'

The red dragon roared as his fingers turned into claws and clenched tight. Still in his human form, but with a dragon's fist, he came crashing down.

His fist burned with draconic fire, layered carefully with demonic energy. The balance had to be perfect — and he made sure it was.

The Demonic Dragon's Breath might not have worked… but his fist would.

With his crimson fist glowing, dark energy swirling around it, he aimed straight for one of the cracks.

"You fool!" the drake cackled. "It'll never work!"

But Bova believed it would.

From afar, the cracks looked thin, but up close — with the drake towering over him — each one was at least ten centimeters wide. When the drake moved, one side of its body tightened, thinning the cracks, but the opposite side loosened, making them wider.

That's where Bova struck.

The thick crack running across the drake's left shoulder.

'Work!' he shouted, his voice shaking the air. "Blazing Fist of the Demonic Dragon!"

He knew Faiser would probably laugh at the name later — but that didn't matter.

What mattered was the result.

And the result… was explosive.

"GAH!"

The moment his fist hit the crack, it detonated. The shockwave blasted outward, throwing soldiers from both sides several feet into the air.

The attack cost him dearly — a portion of his legion was sent flying, his fist was burned and bleeding, and his energy reserves were nearly drained.

But it was worth it.

"Y-You bastard—gah!"

The area around the drake's left shoulder had blown apart, the rocky scales shattered, leaving behind a wound so grotesque it would make anyone without adrenaline in effect vomit.

The drake's flesh was charred and torn, a gaping hole burned deep into its shoulder, surrounded by melted tissue.

It staggered back, groaning each time it tried to move.

"Y-You haven't w-won!" it growled, channeling draconic magic to patch the wound.

Bova watched as the rocks began to form again, layering over the flesh to close the hole with a hardened, jagged sheath.

'Did he—no.' Bova realized the drake hadn't healed its wound. It had only protected the area by encasing it in rocky armor. The wound itself was still there, evident in the drake's pained expression and careful movements.

It only meant the drake could regenerate its rocky layer — not its flesh.

"Die, you weak shit!" the drake roared, swinging its massive tail straight at Bova.

He could have dodged, but even injured, he didn't. He braced himself, arms raised in a defensive stance, and took the hit head-on.

The moment the tail connected, he dug his feet into the ground, anchoring himself. The full force of the blow slammed through him — cracking scales along his arms, shattering one or two bones — but he held firm.

Despite the pain, Bova grinned. No, he laughed.

"I can handle it!" he shouted, turning toward the drake.

The drake, still staggering and confused by Bova's words, exhaled sharply. "You're mad, boy?"

Bova cackled. "Maybe!" he shouted. "But I know I can kill you!"

As the drake prepared another attack, distracted by Bova's words, Bova lunged — not with a punch, but something else.

"You—" the drake's eyes widened as Bova shifted into his dragon form.

The transformation didn't give him extra strength. All his abilities were the same.

But the size difference was massive.

With his newfound reach, Bova seized the drake by its snout, shocking it completely.

"Y-Muh!" The drake couldn't form words as its mouth was pried open by Bova's enormous hands.

Bova didn't care about the tail smashing into his back, cracking bones, or the claws digging into his flesh. None of it mattered.

In that crazed moment of rage, he focused on one thing: killing the drake.

"You have near unbreakable defense," Bova growled, eyes narrowed into slits. "Your exterior is as hard as diamond… but your insides? They're the same."

At that moment, the drake understood Bova's plan — too late.

Bova forced the drake's mouth open as far as it could go, ignoring the pain from the tail and claws. Then, with a crazed look, he inhaled deeply and muttered:

"Demonic Dragon's Breath!"

Most dragons could withstand another dragon's breath. It wasn't so effective against them.

But Bova's breath was different. It wasn't just a dragon's breath — it was the breath of a devil.

Hotter, more destructive, and utterly unstable.

He forced the flames deep into the drake's mouth and body.

Its rocky skin might have been tough, but its insides were fragile. Within seconds, the struggling drake went limp, its front claws still lodged in Bova's chest.

The drake's eyes went fully white, and its body collapsed to the ground, smoke pouring from its cracked mouth. Melted flesh leaked out — its organs, its insides.

Both armies froze, unable to comprehend the sheer brutality of what they had just witnessed.

Bova, exhausted, let out a chuckle. "They'd be proud, wouldn't they? My father… and my boss?"

"You!" Manias, frenzied by the scene, yelled. "What did you do, you monster!"

Bova, exhausted, injured in more places than he could count, with one arm practically useless from overexertion, turned his draconic head toward Manias with a hint of amusement.

"You…" he rasped, barely able to speak or move. "This battle… would be over if you die, wouldn't it?"

Manias froze as he realized what Bova meant.

He was the leader of this front. Even with other commanders and captains, Manias was the one behind everything. With the rock dragon dead, his entire strategy collapsed. He had counted on the creature's near-impenetrable defense.

He had sacrificed a large portion of his army just to summon it. And against the enemy — vampires, devils, and now a dragon — he had no strong enough protection.

"S-Stay back!" Manias nearly screamed, but Bova's crazed smile didn't waver.

"Oh… I will."

Bova inhaled deeply, filling his lungs, and immediately, Manias' body began to tremble.

He spread his wings, but the ruins beneath him prevented him from flying away.

"S-Shield me!" he screamed, as Tepes troops quickly formed barriers and shields to protect him.

But —

"Demonic… Dragon's… Breath."

The magmic breath that Bova unleashed wasn't something any shield could stop.

It was the breath of an Ultimate-Class dragon, infused with the ferocity of a devil — an attack on the level of Satan-class. No defense could withstand it.

Nor did it.

The flames melted through the shields and barriers instantly, turning the vampires into molten flesh and ash.

When the breath reached the first Tepes prince, it didn't even need to touch him.

"Ahhhhhhhh!" The prince's scream echoed across the battlefield as the heat alone turned his body to ash, leaving a corpse indistinguishable from the hundreds of others scattered nearby.

Bova went silent for a moment, then chuckled, and looked toward his own soldiers.

"You guys… you guys can handle this, right?"

The soldiers had been shaken, but at Bova's words, the commanders shouted back with renewed energy.

"This is the moment! Push ahead!"

"Kill the enemy!"

"The first Tepes prince is dead!"

"The rock dragon is dead!"

"Victory is ours!"

Bova smiled at the sight. He wanted to help, but he was in no condition to move.

He let his body collapse to the ground, eyes fixed on the bloodied sky.

"Ah… I wonder if Boss won his battle?"

He already knew the answer — Faiser would never lose. That thought made him think of Ingvild.

'How nice it would have been… if the queen who can control dragons was here…'

Unknown to him, Ingvild had problems of her own to deal with.

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{A/N: Got a pat reon named RedLamp01 with 30+ chapters.