Hello. FireRonin here. This is the first chapter in the reboot that I decided to make of my original story, A New Era: The Last Dragon. If you've read that one, then you'll notice some pretty big changes, mostly in character. Anyways, by the time I upload this chapter, I will have started working on the second. Stay tuned for it, and I hope you enjoy.
[For Reference:]
"Regular Speech"
"Dragon Speech"
Rain poured down in a torrent of water, the little visibility that was available in the dark alleyway now reduced to near-zero. The only sound left was that of footsteps, barely audible over the sound of thunder above. In the haze of the rain, a lithe figure ran, weaving in between the corridors and alleyways, doing his best avoid those that chased him. He had jet-black hair that reached down to his neck, messy from being unattended for days, and despite his ragged appearance, his violet-colored irises shone with determination. His tattered clothing and mud-streaked face where proof of the long and arduous chase that he was caught in, and frankly, he couldn't see an end to this chase, and no matter how hard he thought, there didn't seem to be a solution to his predicament. That quickly changed though, the answer to all his questions hitting him square in the face as he ran straight into a wall. In his blind attempt at escape, he had cornered himself in a dead end.
"Seems like there's nowhere else for you to hide or run, eh?"
The figure whirled around, facing the two hooded beings that had been chasing him for days now. He could barely make out the shape of two dark wings protruding from the backs of the two men. Fallen angels. He didn't know why they were chasing him, but it was clear that he wasn't going to get out of this one without a fight. "What do you want, and why do you keep chasing me? I haven't done anything to you!" He called out to them, moving back until his back was against the wall. How could he get out of this situation without getting severely injured? One of the figures stepped forward, what looked like a sword of pure light forming in his hands. The other, while staying back formed his own as well, though his looked more like a lance. One for range, the other for close-combat. "What have you done? Well, get chosen by the Dragon of the Void, that's what. We simply want to take that Longinus of yours, even if we have to rip the Sacred Gear from your lifeless corpse!"
He had no idea what the two fallen angels where talking about. Longinus? Sacred Gear? Was that what his ability was called? He didn't get much time to ponder it though, a flash of light caught his eye as the fallen angel with the blade lunged at him, swinging the blade from above in a downward slash. He barely had time to lift his right arm up, activating his power as the blade struck metal, sparks flying as the blade was deflected back. A pure black gauntlet covered his forearm, golden spikes protruding from the edges. Two purple orbs adorned the metal, one on the back of his palm, the other further up the gauntlet. Had it not been for that, his arm would likely have been cut off. The fallen angel backed off, growling at him as he measured up his strength. "Oi, Cole, don't mess around. He may be an amateur but remember what we're dealing with here." The man in the back called out to his partner, who responded with a nod. The one known as Cole moved forward again, this time sending out a flurry of attacks that seemed to move faster than his eyes could register. His body moved on instinct though, weaving, dodging and blocking what he could, though his body could only do so much, some attacks slipped through, making small nicks and cuts along his legs and arms. Wherever the blade touched his skin, it felt like someone was slashing at him with a heated blade. Cole backed off, and before the younger male could register why, the lance came flying out of nowhere, missing his head by a few millimeters, but enough to leave a sizable cut on his cheek. So that's how they worked, huh? Cole attacked at close range, keeping the target within an area, while his partner waited for an opening to throw his lance? If it weren't a two-versus-one situation it would be easier. There had to be some way to disrupt their pattern of attack.
As Cole came at him again, he did his best to keep an eye on the angel in the back, who was aiming another lance at the two who were fighting. Then came the moment of truth. Cole backed off once again, but this time was different. He dove down into a roll, the spear of light sailing harmlessly over his head. As he came up, he was now in a closer position, the look of surprise on Cole's face acknowledging to him that he caught them off guard. He lunged out with his armored fist, landing a solid, heavy blow to Cole's gut, throwing him down on the ground, before rushing forward to the other fallen angel, quickly pushing past him. It seemed his plan worked. He deduced that the one in the back didn't have any form of close-range combat, so if he could take down Cole and get in close, he would be able to escape.
He heard angry shouts behind him, but it was quickly fading away into the howling rain and wind as he ran, faster than he ever could.
He lost track of how long he had been running. It was all a blur as he wandered around aimlessly, before collapsing in a different alleyway, hoping that it would provide enough shelter for him to catch his breath.
"You're injured Draven. It seems you weren't as lucky as you thought. You're still reckless."
Draven looked down at himself, dread seemingly coursing through him as he saw it. A dagger of light, sticking out from his stomach. How long had he been running with that in him? He hadn't even noticed. The adrenaline that had dulled his pain was wearing off, and now the pain of the magical dagger was kicking in, threatening to tear a scream from Draven's lips. "A weapon infused with holy magic. That won't heal easily. Hospitals won't work. Their rudimentary medicine can't heal that."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the burning sensation is a clear sign Veidryth!" Draven argued back to the rumbling voice inside his head. That was Veidryth, the supposed dragon that lived within the gauntlet of his, or Longinus, as those fallen angels called it. Draven had little to no recollection of what happened. His earliest memory was waking up in a forest a few weeks ago, only knowing his own name and that people might be looking for him. When he first spoke with Veidryth it was a bit of a shock, but eventually she made him believe that there where Angels, Demons, and Fallen Angels roaming around on the mortal plain. Draven didn't know what Veidryth looked like, only that she was bound to him and he was bound to her, and that before being sealed in the gauntlet, her physical form was that of a dragon.
"You can try pulling it out, but you'll need to find some higher race, be it who it may, that can properly heal it. Until then, you'll have to make do with conventional means of patching up wounds, though it may not suffice. I estimate you'll die of blood loss within 3 hours."
Draven let out an exasperated sigh. "You really know how to motivate someone, don't you?" He proceeded to easily tear off the sleeves of his shirt, it being practically in rags anyways. All that was left was the painful part. He gripped the handle of the dagger, feeling the magic burning his hand, though the pain was little compared to that of his insides being slowly cooked by the blade. Draven took a few deep breaths before pulling up with as much strength as he could muster, the blade coming loose after a few seconds of agonizing pressure, his vision blurring and going black for a heartbeat. Draven threw the blade away down the alley, his charred hands shaking. He felt like collapsing right there and closing his eyes, but an urgent warning from Veidryth gave him some extra strength. Using the two torn sleeves of his shirt, he tied them together to make a longer piece of fabric, before placing them on his wound, which was pouring out blood at an alarming rate. Draven tied the fabric around his waste in a make-shift tourniquet, letting out a grunt of pain as he tightened the knot around the wound. Already the fabric was starting to soak in blood, but it would have to do until he found better means of healing.
"V…Veidryth. I…I don't know what to do. How will I find someone…who can heal me…?"
It hurt to just speak, but Draven was out of options, and he knew once panic settled in, he wouldn't be able to think straight.
"Just take deep breaths. I can sense several sources of demonic energy emanating faintly not too far from here. Normally I would never recommend approaching demons, but they do tend to be slightly nicer than Fallen Angels. Sometimes."
Draven wasn't sure if he should be worried or relieved, but at the point where he was it was either take his chances with the Fallen Angels, who wanted to kill him, or go to some unknown demon lair, where he might still die. Forcing himself to his feet, Draven stumbled out of the alleyway he was in and into the mix of the crowded streets. Almost everyone ignored him, too caught up in their phones or in their thoughts to pay any attention, though one or two did notice him, some calling out to him if he needed help, but to Draven it was all white noise, dulled to a background, his mind switching to autopilot, only focused on finding a way to cure his wound if he wanted to make it through the night.
The journey that maybe took only a half hour seemed to stretch into a day for Draven, the last rays of sunshine having been swallowed by the night. Had he really only been walking for half an hour? Or 3? At this point his sense of time was as disoriented as him. Draven rested a blood-stained hand against the wall, staring at the rusty bronze plaque that greeted his gaze.
"Kuoh Academy…this is the place. I can feel energy coming from somewhere inside the property…"
He pulled at the large gates blocking his path, but they wouldn't budge. If it weren't for his current state, Draven could easily bust through the gate. Looking around for a different method in, his vision traveled a few yards further ahead, spotting a tree that was firmly placed on his side of the wall. If Draven could climb that, he could drop down to the other side, though he wasn't sure how his waning strength could hold up. Regardless, he climbed the branches, taking his time to make sure he didn't disturb the wound. All that was left was to jump down to the other side. The drop was maybe 7, 8 feet down. Draven measured his angle, took a deep breath, and leapt down.
All was going well, until it didn't. His feet touched solid ground, but he couldn't hold his own weight, falling over onto his side. The impact jarred his injury, sending a shockwave of pain that made Draven's vision tunnel and forced a sharp yell of pain to be drawn from his lips. "F-Fuck!"
"You need to keep moving, now. You're bleeding out faster than I predicted." Draven let out a few weak coughs, too tired to crack a smile. He wanted to chide Veidryth for worrying too much but talking at this point was far too painful to make an attempt.
"We have another issue. We have company." Draven wanted to ask her what that meant, but the flapping of wings and the coy laughing gave it away. He turned around to lay onto his back, watching the two fallen angels slowly descend on him from the sky. "I'll admit, you surprised me back there. But you're still far too slow. I was going to kill you quickly, but you disrespected me in front of my superior, so now I'm going to make sure your death is painful, you rat!"
A heavy foot came down onto Draven's stomach, making him black out for a second. He began coughing again, this time streams of blood coming from his mouth. Draven made an attempt at grabbing the foot that was grinding into his wound, but Cole's partner quickly stopped that, two daggers of light sinking into either of his hands and pinning them down onto the ground. A shining light came into view, Cole's magical energy sword hovering over his face.
"What should we gouge out first? His Tongue? His eyes? Ooh, I know. I'll leave your eyes for last, so you can watch as I slowly cut you apart."
Draven could care less. He was already dead at this point. 'Sorry Veidryth. Looks like this is the end of the line for us." He thought to himself. As he looked up at the grey sky, the once pouring rain having now slowed to a light drizzle. At the very least he would have liked to die looking at the stars. Veidryth was having none of this, naturally.
"Get up. Fight! We have one last option. Use my power. You'll likely die from the effort, but you have better chances than letting thes-"
She didn't get a chance to finish though. Through half-closed eyes he saw a blast of red and black energy sailing above him, and suddenly, he could breathe easier, and the weight on his stomach was gone. Draven couldn't see what was happening, but the trembling of the ground, the sound of energy blasts, and the yells from the fallen angels gave him a pretty good idea of what was happening. A shadow loomed over him, and a blurry figure appeared, the only notable feature Draven was able to make out was the crimson hair, red as blood. "Will you live for me?" The figure asked.
He couldn't form words. There was nothing left in him. He just hoped that whoever the figure was, they could see his will to live shining in his eyes. A warm hand was placed on his cheek, contrasting with his own cold skin. He could make out a pair of green eyes among the scarlet hair, and Draven's last thought was of how vivid the colors seemed, before he fell into the pitch dark abyss of sleep.
That was chapter 1. Longer than my original chapter 1 for sure. I will strive to make the other chapters as long as I can, and I hope you enjoyed the read. Leave a review if you'd like, it helps me out on what people think about it and what changes I could make.
[P.S]
- I am currently accepting Beta Readers, if you are interested, let me know in a PM and we'll sort it out.
