Chapter 82: Dark Sister’s Rage [2]

The sky above the Jeju Forest tore open as Dark Sister’s rage reached its absolute boiling point.

ROAAAAAAAAAAAR!!

Her deafening, catastrophic roar echoed for miles across the mountain ranges, a thunderous shockwave of pure draconic fury that instantly plunged the entire forest into absolute panic.

Thousands of 1st-Tier and 2nd-Tier Abominations scattered in every direction, trampling one another in a frantic, desperate bid to escape the apex predator’s wrath.

Beasts buried their heads in the dirt, howling in primal terror as the sheer weight of a 4th-Tier Dragon’s mana pressure crushed their spirits.

Dark Sister tilted her massive, horned head toward the sky, the air around her maw distorting into shimmering, liquid heat.

Deep within her throat, a terrifying crimson -violet glow ignited.

BOOM!

She swept her neck across the horizon, unleashing a catastrophic torrent of draconic fire!

A roaring wall of violet-crimson dragonfire engulfed the entire central sector of the ironwood grove.

Trees turned to ash in fractions of a second, stone pillars melted into glowing magma, and the pitch-black mist was completely incinerated by the blinding, unholy heat.

Yet, amidst the swirling inferno, a miracle of draconic control unfolded.

Dark Sister guided the torrent of dragonfire with surgical precision.

The flames coiled, parted, and bent around Craig, leaving a pristine, untouched circle of earth right beneath his boots.

Craig stood completely unhurt, his crimson hair fluttering in the hot draft.

Beside him, Ser Damian remained standing in that same safe zone, shielded entirely by the Dragon’s innate awareness and deep reverence for her rider.

Further across the burning grove, Ser Hughway was caught directly near the edge of the blazing sea—yet the veteran knight did not burn.

BZTT!

A brilliant, impenetrable barrier of shimmering silver-runic mana erupted around Hughway’s broad frame as he triggered his A-Grade Talent: Valgaryian Armor.

The legendary defensive talent manifested as a suit of ethereal, translucent plate armor over his physical gear, making him virtually indestructible and allowing him to casually wade through the indirect, scorching heat of the dragonfire without taking a single scratch.

The Sword Sage assassin, however, was not so fortunate.

“Gah…!”

Lacking an absolute spatial barrier or a conceptual defensive talent, the assassin was forced to drop his sword stance and frantically channel every ounce of his remaining Sword Sage mana to form a thick, desperate sphere of protective aura around his body.

But it was too late, half of his mask had been burnt out, revealing a half-face covered with burnt flesh.

The violent dragonfire washed over his mana shield, scorching his dark robes, melting the edges of his bone-white ghost mask even further, and inflicting severe thermal shock that drained his reserves rapidly just to keep from being reduced to a pile of cinder.

As the roaring flames settled into glowing embers, Craig took a quiet step forward through the smoke.

Looking up at the towering, thrashing head of the dragon, Craig raised his hand and spoke in a clear, resonant voice that echoed with sovereign authority, using the ancient High Darkstarian tongue:

“Zira, Dark Sister. Rhaimon, Myrakes Vedores!”

(Calm down, Dark Sister. Peace, I am not hurt!)

The ancient syllables rippled through the air.

The moment the words registered in her mind, Dark Sister’s furious thrashes ceased.

Her flared nostrils slowly closed, the violet flames flickering out within her maw.

Under the awestruck gazes of Ser Hughway, Ser Damian, and the battered assassin, the colossal 4th-Tier Dragon lowered her massive, armored head until her snout rested mere inches from the earth.

Craig stepped up to the giant creature, extending his palm to gently pat the smooth, obsidian scales above her snout.

Dark Sister let out a low, smoky snort, her large, slitted golden eyes scanning every inch of Craig’s body.

She sniffed his chest, his arms, and his boots, carefully evaluating his frame to ensure that the blood soaking his clothes was not his own and that no severe, life-threatening injuries remained.

Only after confirming that her sovereign was whole and wholehearted did the terrifying Dragon fully relax.

She lowered her left wing to the earth, forming a sweeping, scaled ramp up to her back.

“Gogeles” Craig smiled, “Heskeres D’volla”

(Good girl, to think you were that worried about me)

Craig walked up the wing effortlessly, taking his place upon the leather saddle strapped between her shoulder blades.

He gripped the reinforced edge of the saddle with a practiced, steady hand, adjusting his posture as a Initial-stage Sword Runner.

He leaned forward, lightly tapping her neck, and issued his flight commands in High Darkstarian:

“Tegros. Taverus ves Heaven’s Net Castle!”

(Fly. Take me to Heaven’s Net Castle!)

Dark Sister raised her head, her massive wings spreading wide once more.

BOOM!

With a singular, violent flap of her wings that kicked up a massive cloud of ash and cratered the scorched earth, Dark Sister launched herself into the night sky.

She soared upward like a black comet, breaking through the cloud cover and speeding toward Heaven’s Net Castle at terrifying, supersonic velocity, vanishing into the darkness within seconds.

Below, in the smoking, ash-filled clearing, absolute silence returned.

Ser Damian slowly turned his head away from the sky, his dark eyes fixing upon the solitary, gasping Sword Sage assassin wrapped in scorched mana.

All traces of hesitation had vanished from the First Dragonknight’s face, replaced by a cold, murderous hatred.

Damian shifted his grip on his heavy broadsword, his gaze burning with absolute bloodlust.

He looked over at Ser Hughway, who was slowly walking forward as his Valgaryian Armor faded back into his body.

“Ser Hughway,” Damian’s voice sounded, dropping into a low, lethal register that cut through the soft crackle of burning embers.

“Decapitate this rat. When his head is taken back to Heaven’s Net Castle, we will hang it high above the main gates… as a clear, absolute demonstration to anyone else who dares attempt an assassination against the Lord Viscount.”

Ser Hughway adjusted his grip on his longsword, his cold eyes locking onto the cornered assassin.

“With pleasure, First Dragonknight,” Hughway replied, stepping into his execution stance.

“With pleasure.”