Prologue: The Scars of Defeat

The sun is brightly shining overhead.

The large ring of light in the sky cast shadows over the various meder-deep craters and mountains turned hills.

I dare to look up at the sky and release a breath. The sun… it looks to be around noon.

"Goddess… How long has it been?"

"…I don't know, Bell. This has all been a blur for me too…But I think it's been three days since I saw you."

That long… that's quite surprising.

"…It feels like it's been a week, at least."

"I imagine it was hard to keep track of time down there."

It sure was. Winding, twisting, disorienting… unlit, damp and suffocating tunnels for meders on end without a sliver of sunlight and scarce air. Any kind of fire meant a death sentence with the little amount of oxygen, so we had to carry and protect tons of light crystals. Even then, we had to operate mostly in pitch-darkness, against enemies who had near-perfect night vision…

"Goddess, do y—" I pause, chocking slightly on a glob of blood. "…have any potions?"

I feel a finger leave my back, followed by the slight clacking of a pair of vials. I grab both with my left hand and down them immediately, an invigorating feeling spreading with each gulp.

I hear another clack as the Goddess hands me a second pair of Nazha's premium double potions. I down them, and another clack follows. Another, than another.

And finally, a special potion, concocted from the blood of a mermaid—Marie—and a Pheonix.

I feel a healing wave come over me, spreading to every last crevice of my body…except for my arm.

I feel a hand come down on my back.

"…It might be out-of-place, but Bell, I'm feeling a little nostalgia right now." She says, and shortly after I feel her head rest on my back.

"Let me guess…The Silverback?" I answer. I was thinking the same.

She nods. "Isn't it funny? That monkey is nothing compared to what you're facing now… and yet, it's coming back to me strongly."

"…Maybe it's because you're here, Goddess." I say, recalling that day that was bright and sunny like it is today. "Too close to the battlefield, too close to a monster far stronger than me… too close to death, especially for my liking."

Her hand wraps around my neck and cups my cheek. "I came back because you were trying to be a Hero, Bell…Trying to save me—and now everybody else—without thinking about yourself…" Her fingers leave my cheek and slide down to my shoulder, her gentle touch feeling cool on my burn scars. She traces a line of dried blood down to my shoulder, then my elbow, then stops.

There's nothing more to go down.

"Goddess." I say with as much power as I can muster. The only reply I get is a sudden, shaky hug from behind, followed by the sensation of tears flowing down my back.

"…Bell, you're amazing. You're a wonderful child. My greatest blessing since coming down to Genkai."

She unties one of her blue ribbons, scrapes off some of the smudged dust and dirt, then uses it to tie a small bow on my belt.

"I'm sorry I can't do more for you. All I can do is give you potions and scribble words on your back—"

She tucks her arms under my shoulder and pushes up which, despite the lacking strength of her mortal shell, brings me up from my knees.

"—and give you a place to return to."

Finally, she gives me a clap on the back.

"You've gotten the Skill. Go get that big, overgrown lizard, Bell."

I nod.

"Thank you, Goddess." Reaching down, I pick up the Hestia knife from the ground. It feels slightly off-balance in my left, but with a quick twirl I instantly adjust.

As I strengthen my grip on the handle, the hieroglyphs light up with familiar life. Soon enough, the once dull hunk of metal becomes a fine blade, one that seems to part the very air that surrounds it.

I lean down, adjusting into a running stance—

And in the next moment, completely disappear as I begin dashing at top speed.

I feel my balance slightly list with my missing arm, but I disregard it and continue running headfirst towards the mountain's edge.

The next moment, Dragon Valley's once tall mountains and deep ravines, now ravaged by our long fight, envelops my sight as I begin free-falling.

Leaning back, my foot meets the mountain's side and rattles along as I slide down into the ravaged rocky lands below.

Then, the moment I pass a certain threshold the quiet winds of the peak fade, replaced by the screeching's and screams of battle.

I reach the bottom, and the scene I see can only be described as… Cataclysmic.

The ground, after having been caved in multiple times over from the constant fighting, now stretches deep into the Earth as if it was a part of the dungeon. Rubble cascades down from the surrounding mountains like a waterfall of dirt and rock, breaking and scattering into innumerable pieces as they crash into the ground at breakneck speed. The constant flow of crumbling rock fills the surroundings with dust that scatters with every high-tier spell and immaculate sword swing from the top-tier adventurers that line the battlefield, such that the intensity is unavoidably visible and palpable.

As Argonaut activates, enveloping my hand in a white light, the singular eye of the main perpetrator of the apocalyptic scene locks onto me, piercing me with a vile energy.

However, the next moment, that split-second glance turns to be fatal as a spear pierces the air and nearly embeds itself into the dragon's eye. Unfortunately, it stops just short of meeting flesh, and a black aura flares up and burns the spear to a crisp, but the attack distracts the dragon just long enough for a man—a hulking, beast of a man, cloaked in white light and a veil of wind—to rush through the black aura and land a hulking blow with his Greatsword.

He immediately spins, his massive frame twisting alongside his colossal sword to deliver another screeching blow to the dark scales of the beast. It lands, and using the recoil he spins again, uncaring of the encroaching black aura—

And the next moment, cracks spread around the sword as it shatters into countless shards of mithril. The black aura flares up, and in an instant he's launched back and crashes into the ground, creating another crater.

However, three more craters shortly follow as a set of black scales descend after having been launched into the air, accompanied by an aggravated screech from the Dragon.

I dash over just in time to see the hulking man pull himself out, dirt and rock spilling out of his crumbling and cracked armour.

"Ottar!"

The long-since dethroned King of Orario turns to look at me with his one eye, which flickers down to my right arm before refocusing on my face.

"Bell Cranel… Have you completed your status update? Do you have the Skill now?" He asks.

"Yes, I do. Also, do you know where Fels is? I need another Oculi."

The moment I say that, he points behind me. I turn to see a shadowy cloak materialize out of thin air.

"I'm right here." Says Fels, who, as usual, appears out of nowhere. He hands me an Oculi and leaves with a near-imperceptible nod. Even before putting on the Oculi I can hear the tiny squeak of a familiar voice come through, which makes me smile.

"Bell-sama? Bell-sama, do you hear me?"

As I equip it on my ear, a concerned voice comes through with crystal clarity.

"Yeah… I hear you, Lilli. I'm back." I almost choke up but seeing the Dragon fighting in the distance instantly brings me back. "And calm down—you've gone back to calling me "sama" again."

"I'll call you whatever I like, Bell-s—Bell! Do you know how worried we were?"

"I always make you guys worry." I say with a small chuckle. It's unfortunately true.

"AND I'LL ALWAYS YELL AT YOU FOR IT!"

After the yell, I hear a bunch of background noise as more chaotic orders are issued around the command post. Lilli takes a second to calm herself, and soon she's back to her clear-headed self.

"Sorry for yelling at you, Bell, and welcome back." She says in her "authority" voice. "Now that you're here, we'll go into the final phase of our plan. I'll connect you with everyone."

After a short static, the Oculi changes colour to white and I become surrounded by familiar voices.

"Bell!"

"Bell!"

"Bell-sama!"

After three shrieks follow more composed, but similarly happy, messages.

"Took you long enough to crawl out of that hole."

"Good to have you back, Bell Cranel."

"Yeah, I'm back everyone."

I take a pause to jump over a shadowy hand that manifested from the ground before continuing the conversation.

"How's the situation looking?"

"The Scarless got to your Renard." Responds a sharp but weary voice. "Spell's good to go, but we only have seven buffs instead of nine."

I whinge at the news as I duck another hand that manifests from the cliff.

"We'll have to make do." Adds a composed but tired voice. "Besides, from what I hear of the fight, we should be glad to even have that many."

"I apologize for my transgression…" Responds a gentle but hoarse voice.

"Bell, any injuries we should know about?" Asks a soft but raspy voice.

"I've lost my right hand." Answers a tired, weary, raspy and tired—but also hopeful and determined—voice. My own. "I can still wield the knife with my left, but I'll be more vulnerable once we get close. I don't have any more of Marie's blood, either."

"…Extra artillery, then." Notes Lilli with an extra edge to her voice. "I'll contact the mages. Everyone, I'll need you to move back and reconvene to the recovery units that I'm about to tell you. Please, stock up on everything—

—And get ready for the final attack."

The Dragon knew.

It knew what it was called among the brood of the infesters that came from above. Its own brood told him, whispered it with fear of its wrath and hatred for the ones who would dare call it so.

The One-eyed.

They called it after the scar, its only wound over the millennia. The only thing that betrayed its presence of absolute power and the only thing that implied weakness.

It was no longer the Apocalypse: it was the One-Eyed.

It was a disgrace.

Even now, after nearly 1,000 years and the sacrifice of its brood, the scar had not healed—and it knew it would never heal. The Clear-Eyed had cut too deep. The Clear-Eyed pierced its scales and gouged out its eye, dying in defiance.

And that defiance would taint its names to come. What use was its power, if the very name the infester's brood uttered with fear, implied weakness? Implied against its absolute prowess?

With one blow, the Clear-Eyed pierced the looming, impenetrable darkness of his shadow and tainted and it forever. When it flew the sky, announcing its absolute power by enveloping all those under it with its massive shadow, there would be a crevice: a sliver around its head where the light could shine through the darkness. When it lorded over the infester's brood, its red eyes, the only thing they would see under his darkness, glared as one. They saw not the perfect terror of its two red eyes, but a disgraceful, single eye.

His entire presence could not escape the scar. It was always there, declaring for all to see the imperfection, the weakness.

The Hope for Victory.

And now, that dreadful, tainted scar throbbed. It throbbed with remembrance. It throbbed harder and harder and harder, and once the White-Haired returned, with eyes that reminded of the Clear-Eyed, it throbbed even harder.

And once it saw the White-Haired approach with the Gold-Haired Half-Spawn that called forth the wind, it throbbed with painful and disgraceful remembrance.

Soon, even without seeing it, it could feel them approach from all around: seven of those who glittered in gold-white light who pierced and defied the darkness of its shadow the boldest, following the Clear-Eyed of the past and present. No doubt followed by several traitors, fellow broods and much more.

Its shadow trembled.

It wished to fly, to envelop them under and lord over them as it should, but it could not.

And so, it roared.

It roared at the past and the present and all those who would dare defy. It roared at the Half-Spawn, who had the wind of the First Infesters and the bladework of the Clear-Eyed. It roared at the White-Haired, who pierced its shadow with his gold-white light and clear eyes.

It roared as the Purebreed of Hatred, the bringer of Ragnarök, the Cataclysm:

It roared as the Apocalypse.

First came three: the Half-Breed, the Silver Beast and the White-Haired. With a swing, the Half-Breed enveloped them all in wind, dodging its tail swing that only destroyed more of the ravine. One flew and two ran along the ground, quickly encroaching under its stomach. Aware of the limits of its currently immobile state, it quickly roared another blast down, the flames flowing down its scales. Though it singed in places where its scales were torn, the flames quickly reached its underbelly, ready to burn the White-Haired and Silver Beast.

Suddenly, a screeching noise radiated from its side. Almost immediately after, a blast of glittering green roared from the cliffs and intercepted its flame mid-way, resulting in a bright blast that seemed to defy gravity and explode upwards, towards its stomach. As the magic passed through its dark aura, it slid upwards on its scales, reaching its eye and attempting to blind it in a bright flash. It closed its eyelid in time, however, and the magic slid off the black scales on the back of its eye, deflecting into the sky.

However, it once again singed—singed were that Beast Brute had knocked off more of its scales. The Apocalypse roared again and drove its claws into the cliff, aiming for the one that dared to defy it, of all beings, with magic. As its claws drove incisions through mountains, it was met with an unsatisfying lack of infester-brood blood, which it could easily differentiate from the blood of simple beasts and creatures.

Changing focus, it once again aimed for the two under it, this time bringing the claw it embedded into the cliff around for a swipe. At the same time, it targeted the Half-Blood in the sky with a blast of fire.

As its claws came screeching down, it suddenly met resistance. From the corner of its extremely sharp vision, it could see the Earth-Brood, the traitor Minotaur, the Beast Brute from before, several dark-skinned and an entire gaggle of traitor-spawn, including a dragon, push against its arm. Enraged at these nuisances that seemed to appear and disappear out of nowhere, it raised its claw and slammed it down, only to be met with more dirt and rock.

Meanwhile, up above the Half-Breed was finally singed by its flame, slowing down as much of her wind was scattered. Seeing the chance, it went to swallow her whole, but was suddenly met with several strikes to its jaw that burned, chilled and electrified at the same time, slacking its jaw just enough to buy time for the Half-Blood to escape. Enraged even further at its missing prey, it spun its head and blasted a tornado of black flame—a flame it knew no creature could match— all around it.

As rock melted and turned to magma, it saw a small group weave between the flaming pillars that twisted and turned: the Half-Blood, the Bold-Eyed, carried by a traitor Vouvire, and the Masked Forest-Brood. With the combination of the Half-Blood and the Forest-Brood's wind, the Traitor weaved in between the flames while carrying Bold-Eyed in her claws. Said Bold-Eyed took the opportunity to strike, repeatedly raining down a spear than singed with the magic of the First Infesters, hurting even through its aura and scales.

Then, another blast of green came, this time from above. It scattered into a spiral that scattered and penetrated its flame which, instead of countering it, directed the black flame away and into a mountain. It looked above where the blast came from, only to see nothing but the sun.

As it looked up it was struck on its neck, and without seeing it knew it was the Half-Blood and the Bold-Eyed. As it felt two scales fly off, it whipped its head down, intending to crush them both. Again, it was met with nothing.

Then, after finally being distracted from them for so long, the two below it moved.

All of a sudden, it found itself enveloped by a flame. Not its black flame, not the inferior magical flame that couldn't hurt it, nor a flame reminiscent of the First Infesters. No, this flame did not burn: it ate, as if it itself was a beast.

And of all things, it began devouring away at its aura.

Immediately, it focused more of its aura towards the Beast-Flame, intending to supress it into submission.

However, as suddenly as it began eating, the flame suddenly disappeared.

It did not have to look long to find it, however: the Beast-Flame reappeared immediately.

In front of its eye.

With the Silver Beast at its center, the Beast-Flame quickly ate away at the aura near its eye, already weakened from focusing them towards its stomach.

It attempted to twist its neck and slam its face into the beast: before it could, however, the Silver Beast penetrated its aura and grabbed onto its eye.

The Apocalypse immediately closed its eye and began whipping its face around, driving it into the rocks nearby. However, the beast still hung on, and soon began clawing away at his eyelid scales, already fewer from the continuous fighting.

Then, once again appearing from nowhere, while the Apocalypse's eyes were closed an entire party appeared at its eye, those the One-eyed would call the Masked Wood-Brood, the Earth-Brood, the Bold-Eyed, the Beast Brute, the Traitor Beast, the Half-Blood, and the White-Haired, with those unable to fly being carried by more "traitors".

They all began wailing away at the eyelid's scales, unleashing brute force unlike the dragon had ever known from the Infester-Brood.

As its scales began to fly off, one by one, and their attacks quickly encroached upon flesh, its scar throbbed as if calling out to it:

Calling out that it was time to die.

It roared in defiance and strength, recalling all of the aura around its body and concentrating the darkness around its eye, desperately trying to snuff out the lights that were now piercing through the flesh of its eyelid.

The Beast-Flame began to combat and eat away at the encroaching aura, supported by the Half-Blood's wind and other sources of the First-Infester's magic.

As a light began piercing the darkness of its closed eye, it called forth desperation it had never known in all its life and roared harder, strengthening the aura with a second wind to push against the Beast-Flame.

Soon, the aura twisted around, aiming squarely for the Silver Beast as if knowing he was the source. Immediately, the Brute Beast and Earth-Brood came to his defense, which, with the help of the Half-Blood's wind, allowed them to hold back the enhanced black aura.

The aura tried again, this time trying to pierce the Half-Blood in the heart. However, it was once again stopped, this time by the Traitor Minotaur, the Masked Forest-Brood and the Bold-Eyed.

With the aura failing to remove the threats that clung to its eye, it reached true desperation. Finally, One-eyed lifted its claws from the rubble and readied itself to throw away more of its pride.

As the encroaching light grew brighter as more and more glowing weapons were piercing its eyelid, it lifted its claw and slammed it down on its own face.

First, the dragon roared in pain as its own claws tore off several scales and created a huge scar, spilling blood all around the ravine.

Then, the Infester-Brood screamed, as many of their own started tumbling to the ground, bloodied and some already dead.

The Dragon reveled as the weight on its eye lessened and the various blades in its eye began to stop moving, fall away, or crumble from its aura. It revealed as the encroaching, piercing lights faded and crumbled, its vision settling into a comfortable darkness.

However, just as it dared to relax its guard, just as it began coming down from the high of desperation, just as it dared to think it was over—

One blade.

No, a knife.

Then, another blade.

A sword.

Already torn and now even more damaged from its own claws, these two blades of light finally pierced completely through, tearing open a large hole in its eye—

And in the next moment, its sight was consumed. As it met light brighter than it had ever known, its pupils dilated as if searching for an escape and began wildly darting around, but found none.

There was no escape. There was no escape from this light that burned brighter than the sun, that burned as if to scorch its very existence.

A knife and sword drove into the dragon's eye, tearing away deep into its flesh.

And for the second time in its lifetime, the Dragon roared with true pain and desperation as its eye was slashed, scorched and torn, as blood began to flow out like tears, as the light pierced deeper than it ever had.

It flailed wildly and roared, but it was not enough.

Soon, the blades, the light, pierced through its eye and reached the center: around the crown of its head, which was protected by its thickest scales from the outside.

And there, two witnessed for the first time in history.

The Magic Stone of the Black Dragon.

Now, with both its eyes robbed and blades coming down on its Magic Stone the Dragon could feel the call stronger than ever. It flowed with an unstoppable force, assaulting every little crevice of its being and enveloping it in an undeniable despair that it normally instilled in others.

Now, more piercing and certain than ever, the Dragon heard the call that comes for all.

The call of Death.

And so, a Sword and Knife swung down on the pure-black Magic Stone.

And in the next moment…

The next moment…

The next…

…

…

…

A bolt of dark light pierced.

The Dragon roared.

Two bloodied corpses came tumbling down from the Dragon's eye…

and the battle... was over.

That day, two bore witness to the Black Dragon's Magic Stone for the first time.

That day, the Dragon's other eye was destroyed, laid atop it a scar of its own creation.

From that day forth, the Dragon was known as Aommatos, or the Eyeless.

That day, the harshest battle against the Black Dragon was concluded with the Gods rescinding the last of the Three Grand Quests: the quest to kill the Black Dragon.

That day, which would come to be known as the Last Grand Assault, saw the end of an era…

…And the Death of nearly every great Adventurer of Orario.