The Dragonborn Overlord of the New World

by nolalothcaragascint1

[Overlord AU/Canon Divergence. No Ainz or Nazarick] [Slow burn] Guild Master Tiberius of the Sanguine Dragons has spent the last 12 years adventuring throughout the nine worlds of YGGDRASIL. But now the game servers are shutting down. What happens when he inadvertently remains behind during the shut down? How will Tiberius react when finds himself in a New World?

8. Chapter V - Pt 2

Chapter V (Pt. II)

This Is a Battle?

Tiberius stood firm on the grassy field, his eyes peering through the ruby lenses of his helmet at the gathered magic casters. He sensed the retreating soldiers of Re-Estize behind him without needing to look directly at them; their departure was unmistakable.

His grip tightened around the hilt of his longsword as he started to advance. With measured and deliberate steps, the dragonoid made his way across the field, reclaiming his position by the side of the Guardian Overseer. Side by side, they stood, only twenty-five yards away from the Slane Theocracy soldiers, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Atop a hill, far behind the defensive rows of troops, stood the leader of the magic casters. Tiberius' keen eyes, even from a distance, could make out the man's face contorted with barely restrained anger.

Nigun's gaze was drawn to the taller of the pair. The one who had just destroyed a contingent of angels.

Bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, he enjoyed an unhindered view of the other figure. Their silver armour glistened under the orange-red light, a testament to the impeccable craftsmanship of a true master. Despite being at a distance, the armour's unique design provided no overt clues about its origin, leaving its mysteries shrouded in uncertainty.

His unnaturally dark eyes were drawn to the odd helmet design. With its wolven resemblance, Nigun found it simultaneously peculiar and fascinating.

Throughout his travels, he had encountered numerous warriors who crafted their helmets to mimic the appearance of various beasts. The intention behind such displays of foolishness was often clear - it was meant to intimidate. Some of these individuals even clung to an archaic belief that these totems would grant them gifts of strength, speed, or skill.

It was laughable.

After all, anyone in the Theocracy could attest that it was only by way of the Six Great Gods that one could be granted such gifts.

Still, that armour would make for a fine trophy when this pair had been dealt with.

Casually his gaze left the first individual and settled upon the other.

They were half a head shorter and wore another set of silver armour. However, the armour was rather nondescript, lacking the ornamentation that adorned the others so openly. Apart from the helmet that is. How odd it was to see such strikingly feminine features staring back at him.

Seeing this left him puzzled.

Was it perhaps an indication that the person behind the mask was female? But he could not discredit the possibility it was another male beneath it. The Theocracy had long since done away with such deviants. Other nations were not as enlightened which allowed them to thrive in the shadows behind their borders.

Nigun's focus returned to the taller warrior.

How did he do it? Was it a spell? Or maybe some kind of martial art? Pah, it doesn't matter. To accomplish something like that must've taken quite an effort. I doubt he'll be able to pull it off again.

A wicked smile graced his face.

Just as the Kingdom's strongest warrior battled in vain against our superiority. So too will these two learn the folly of their actions.

"Men! Form up and summon another contingent of angels."

The order was issued, and the scarred man's subordinates acted promptly. They moved themselves to create a pair of concentric rings as a means of defense. Once in place, the soldier priests set to work. Each man was illuminated by the arcane energies as a font of summoning spells was spoken aloud to birth a new angel.

While his men were busy, Nigun was left to work on the puzzle of these strangers. Though their capabilities were an unknown factor, he felt confident that numbers and skill would be enough to overcome them.

But if the tide should miraculously be turned against them. Well, then there was always the trump card he carried in the pouch on his belt.

"Just who are you?" Nigun puffed up his chest like a preening bird as he did his best to sound unconcerned and authoritative, "And why have you dared to interfere?"

Only silence was his answer.

He furrowed his brow and audibly growled, "You would dare to ignore me! You insolent cur!" But his visage soon relaxed as he again took on his typical haughty expression, "Or perhaps you realized the truth of your situation, and the fear has paralyzed your tongue."

The leader's words earned a round of laughter from his men.

"You frighten no one."

The dragonoid's calm voice echoed over the merriment.

Nigun felt his fury rising to new levels with the nonchalant manner of this individual. For anyone to speak to their betters in such a manner was inexcusable. If they were a Theocracy citizen, he would be well within his rights to see them publicly flogged.

He must be bluffing. Yes, even the mighty Gazef Stronoff was afraid when he beheld our might.

Almost as if to calm his own nerves as the men's, the scar-faced man gave a forced bit of laughter. "Your ignorance is truly deplorable. Getting rid of you will be a service to all. Then after we're finished with you we shall complete our…"

"No, you won't," Tiberius interrupted the man's speech, "In fact, I doubt very much any of you will be leaving this field."

"Ha, have you taken leave of your senses? You are but two and we are many. You may last longer than Gazef against our angelic might." The mocking tone changed, turning darker, "But make no mistake you will fall all the same."

The man's words meant to threaten did nothing to ruffle the dragonoid. From behind the ruby-lensed eyes of the wolven helmet, he snuck a sideways glance at Yuliana. He was somewhat surprised to see how well she was retaining her composure.

"If you so doubt my strength," the dragonoid's voice lowered several octaves, "Then I welcome you to test it."

The soldier priests of the Sunlight Scripture were veterans of numerous battlefields. They had faced countless inhuman monsters that would have sent lesser men fleeing in terror. Yet this unknown warrior had managed to plant the seeds of fear within them with so few words.

"Have the angels charge them down! Prove to them just how powerless they truly are against us."

As if one being, the numerous magic casters raised their arms, and in response, the angels flapped their wings. Reacting like a flock of metal birds, they rose high into the air. There they gathered in a roiling glinting cloud, the signal was given and the summoned monsters raced toward the intended targets.

With the longsword, Severance, in hand, Tiberius took several long strides forward. Halting he lifted his gaze to the sky and the approaching foes.

As he stood waiting, the virtual wall of angels drew closer and closer still. Finally, he brought his weapon up into the ready position.

"[Blade Storm]."

There was a flurry of movement as the dragonoid attacked. Each sweep of the blade was rapidly followed by another in such quick succession that created the illusion of his having multiple limbs. The fiery core of the longsword glowed brightly as lightning-fast strikes left a trail of white-orange as it sliced through the air. The attack created such turbulence that the tranquil breezes were whipped into a frenzied storm. Like a howling cyclone, the air began to resonate with all its fury.

The airborne angels were helplessly tossed to and fro like a child's plaything as they were engulfed in the baleful tempest. Across their armoured bodies, countless wounds wept golden mana. It was as if the idiom of death by a thousand cuts had been bestowed upon the angels. As quickly as the golden liquid flowed, it was licked away by the fierce gusts.

The soldier priests could only gape in disbelief at the deaths of their summoned creations. Some pulled their gaze away long enough to look to their comrades in search of answers.

The scarred commander, equally stunned by this, watched as the mana of each destroyed angel added to the continually growing cloud. The glowing mist flowed across the casters before being carried away by the receding winds.

Slowly, he directed his black eyes to the silver-clad warrior who had returned to his unmoving state.

Nigun Grid Luin, Commander of the Sunlight Scripture, faithful servant of the gods, champion of humanity, and veteran of numerous campaigns against the enemies of the Slane Theocracy. For the first time in a long time felt a tremor of dread overtake him. Glancing at his hands, Nigun watched as they trembled uncontrollably. To stave this off, he quickly balled his hands so tightly he felt the ache of his white-knuckled grip.

Forcing his fists to his sides, Nigun looked back at the warrior.

At the back of his mind, the words of Gazef Stronoff echoed. What he initially believed to just babble, a poor attempt at a bluff was proving itself to be valid.

In seeing such a blatant display of power twice now, no doubt was left within his mind. The scout troupe was indeed dead and it came at the hands of this individual. Though he tried to deny it, tried to force these thoughts from his mind. They proved to be insidiously too pervasive.

No! This proves nothing! This only means he is stronger than Stronoff was. We are the Sunlight Scripture, one of the most powerful forces in the Theocracy. No, in the world! This just means we'll have to do better. Treat him more seriously.

While their leader fought through his inner turmoil, his men were coping in a different manner.

Upon seeing that their angels were useless, the Theocracy soldier priests were stirred into action. Drawing closer together, the mages formed a single battle line. Together they raised their dominant arms with open palms facing their frightening opponent and his companion. Then the chants began as innumerable spells were cast.

"[Charm Person]!"

"[Iron Hammer of Righteousness]!"

"[Hold]!"

"[Fire Rain]!"

"[Emerald Sarcophagus]!"

"[Holy Ray]!"

"[Shockwave]!"

"[Confusion]!"

"[Charge of Stalagmite]!"

"[Open Wounds]!"

"[Poison]!"

"[Fear]!"

"[Word of Curse]!"

"[Blindness]!"

Across the field, the dragonoid and his Guardian continued to remain unmoving as a proverbial storm of magic hurtled toward them.

One spell after another collided with the pair, and yet for all their combined magical might, none could breach their defenses. Each spell proved as ineffectual as the last.

"So it seems the ability to summon Archangel Flames was not the only YGGDRASIL magic they know," Tiberius mumbled to no one.

To see their magics having virtually no effect on the pair only served to push the soldier priests further to the breaking point.

So unable to process these events, one mage lifted his left arm, and with the right hand loaded a steel ball into a sling mounted onto his vambrace. Drawing back the elastic strap to its fullest limit the man released.

The bullet sped through the air and across the field in short order, carrying with it enough force to easily shatter bones.

However, this was not the case. There came a high-pitched plink as the metallic ball collided with the dragonoid's armoured form, after which it fell harmlessly to the ground.

Inclining his head, Tiberius gazed down at the small orb of metal. One side of the ball had been deformed in the impact, leaving it flattened.

"I do hope that this is not the full extent of your capabilities."

Nigun chafed under the man's obvious insult as he growled in frustration. With his patience having been spent, he voiced his reply.

"Principality Observation!" he shouted, "Attack!"

Emerging from behind the hill where the Sunlight Scripture's commander stood, a towering figure came into view, easily dwarfing an Archangel Flame, rising effortlessly into the air.

The Principality Observation stood an order of magnitude higher, as reflected by the four majestic wings it possessed in contrast to the Archangel Flame's two. Its entire body was draped in a shimmering robe of white-gold, adorned with a gleaming breastplate. Atop its head, an ornate helm sat beneath a hovering golden halo.

On its left forearm, the majestic angel carried an oval shield with a shining star emblazoned on its surface. In its right hand, it wielded a four-point mace crafted from lustrous silver metal. The imposing presence of the higher angel commanded respect and awe, leaving no doubt about its power and significance.

Under Nigun's command, this particular angel, despite its greater power, had been kept away from the frontlines. The reason for this strategic decision was its special ability – an ability that significantly enhanced the defensive capabilities of nearby allies. However, there was a catch: the moment the angel was moved after being summoned, its strengthening effects on allies' defenses would be instantly negated. The delicate balance of the angel's power required careful consideration and restraint in its deployment during battle.

The real reason for keeping the angel close was to safeguard himself. Nigun had wanted the protection it provided for his own benefit, and as a result, the angel was always by his side.

However, now he faced a formidable adversary that demanded the angel's intervention in battle. The situation called for utilizing the angel's defensive abilities to confront this new threat head-on.

Obeying its master's command the towering angelic being left the forces of the Sunlight Scripture and levitated across the field. Approaching the enemy it clasped its hands together, gripping the shaft of the large silver mace. The head of the mace began to glow, engulfed by the holy magic that was being channeled into it.

Lifting his head, Tiberius eyed the Principality Observation before raising his unoccupied left hand.

"[Crushing Hand]."

Fixated on the large angel's approach, Nigun witnessed its forward motion come to an abrupt stop. Suspended midway across the field, it seemed held in place by an unseen, imperceptible force.

Before the towering armoured figure, a hand materialized from the ether. The translucent, gauntlet-clad fist emerged, large enough to encircle an ogre, and firmly closed its grasp around the angel, locking it in an unyielding hold.

A dozen yards away, Tiberius stood with his left arm outstretched. A faint luminosity emanated from his hand, mirroring the movements of the far larger magical counterpart. As he curled his fingers, the dragonoid felt a certain level of resistance that prevented him from fully clenching his fist. The invisible force he exerted kept the large magical hand in check, locked in a silent battle of wills.

The sight deeply disturbed the men of the Slane Theocracy.

They had never before witnessed such potent magics that could bind angels of this high order. As they looked on, the massive hand twitched, its grip tightening around the summoned creature. With each movement, the sounds of creaking and groaning metal filled their ears.

Within the grasp of the mystical hand, Principality Observation shook and thrashed violently, desperately trying to break free. Despite its strength and wild flailing, the metaphysical appendage remained unfazed, holding the angel firmly in its unyielding grip. The spectacle left the men in awe and trepidation, realizing they faced a foe whose power exceeded their understanding.

The pressure continued to mount, effortlessly denting the angel's magically created armour. The once imposing breastplate fractured with a shower of sparks, splintering into shards that fell to the ground, while others were forcefully expelled with a sharp crack. One of these fragments rocketed across the field, striking the dirt near a soldier priest who was so shocked that he stumbled and fell on his backside.

The Principality Observation's body began to contort, resembling a crumpled sheet of paper folded upon its true form. Rivulets of golden mana streamed from the angel's helmet and dripped from its extremities, like tears of magical essence.

Then, to the horror of the Slane Theocracy mages, there came a terrible crunch as the angel's body succumbed to the overwhelming stress. In an instant, the once magnificent figure of the Principality Observation was reduced to a meager fraction of its former self. The sight left the mages speechless, grappling with the incomprehensible display of power that had just unfolded before their eyes.

As the angel met its demise, Tiberius unclenched his fist, and the phantom hand mimicked the action.

The broken form of the Principality Observation slipped free, landing on the cool grass in a crumpled heap. For a few fleeting seconds, it lay there before an astonishing transformation took place. The angel's body burst into thousands of iridescent sand grains, floating gracefully in the air like twinkling stars. But their brilliance was ephemeral, as one by one, the granules dimmed and vanished, just like candles extinguished by a gentle breeze. The sight left an ethereal and haunting impression on all who beheld it, a testament to the immense power at play in the world they inhabited.

"If you are hoping to make it out of this alive," the dragonoid made a show of slowly lowering his arm, "You're leaving much to be desired."

"H-h-how… How can this be possible?!"

"What kind of spell was that?"

"How can we win against that?!"

A chorus of doubt and fear surged among the soldier priests, their voices rising to near-panic levels. Even their leader stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock and his jaw hanging slack. The tremors that had initially afflicted his hands had now spread, causing his entire body to shiver uncontrollably. The display of power they had just witnessed had left them all deeply shaken and uncertain of what lay ahead.

"T-that's not possible! There's no way an angel of such magnitude could be taken down with a single spell," the mage's commander cried out.

"Not so it seems," the dragonoid mocked the other with his calm demeanor, "I do hope you have something more to offer. Or have we reached the end of this little farce?"

"Commander Nigun, what are we to do?"

"Sir?"

Nigun cut his eyes at the men questioning him. The two wilted under their leader's gaze and shrank back from him. As the pair of weaklings withdrew, he turned his attention back to the battlefield and the two figures standing on the opposite side of the meadow.

We can't win against this! NO! There's still hope. The Holy Treasure!

Reaching beneath his heavy robes, the man's hand disappeared into the laden pouch that hung from his belt. Burying his hand within the leather bag, his fingers ran along the smooth glassy surface of the item contained within.

Grasping the object tightly, Nigun withdrew his hand from the pouch and hoisted it toward the sky.

Clutched in his gloved fingers was a dazzling cluster of crystals on the order of a large orange. The magic sealed inside the crystal gave off a radiant aura.

The crystal that the man held aloft was one of the national treasures of the Slane Theocracy. It was a relic of a bygone era, left to Theocracy's possession since the time when the Six Great Gods walked the earth some six hundred years ago.

The use of the item had been strictly prohibited by his superiors save only in the most dire of circumstances.

"Your strength has done nothing but earn you an exceedingly rare honour. Your death will come at the hands of an angel of the highest caliber."

The Commander of the Sunlight Scripture roared in his perceived triumph of this difficult foe. Shifting his gaze to his subordinates, Nigun issued a new order.

"Men, protect me whilst I commence the summons!"

While Tiberius paid little attention to the man, his eye was on the crystal. The way it glinted in the light attracted his sharp eyes. At once, he set about analyzing the item.

A summoning crystal? So it isn't just YGGDRASIL magic that has found its way to this world. Though it doesn't look to be an ultra-rare one. Still, it looks to be a fairly high-level one. So at least I don't have to worry about any super-tier spells coming from that thing. But that does leave a multitude of possibilities open. Wait! That guy was blabbing about the highest tier of angels. Does he mean a Seraphim class?

For the first time since his initial engagement with the men who attacked the village in combat, Tiberius was worried.

Taking a defensive stance, he planted his feet firmly in the earth. Then grasping the hilt of his longsword in both hands, he raised the weapon before himself and readied for battle.

"Yuliana, be ready. We may be facing a strong opponent."

"Understood, my lord."

Striding forwards, the female Guardian took her place alongside her master. In a smooth motion, she drew the twin sabers from their equally identical sheaths. She performed a flourish of the blades before holding them at the ready.

"Behold! The shining might of the highest of angels! Dominion Authority!"

The crystal he held shone brightly with an enthralling display of brilliance. The illumination grew steadily brighter until the grassy plain was bathed in a crisp white-blue light. At its apex, the radiance was so bright that it briefly outshone the setting sun.

When the light finally faded, a new figure could be seen hovering in the air above the Sunlight Scripture.

The figure loomed above them, vaguely humanoid in appearance but much larger than any of the Principality Observers. Its body, if it even had one, remained shrouded by an overwhelming number of angelic wings. Amongst this chaotic array of feathers, a pair of distinct, feather-covered arms emerged, tightly clutching a regal-looking scepter. What puzzled them most was the absence of a head; in its place, a radiant sigil of the angelic script glowed with a soft blue light.

As the impressive creature descended from the heavens, a delicate fragrance drifted in the breeze. It carried a scent reminiscent of ozone after a powerful lightning strike – an electrifying aroma that filled the air with both awe and trepidation.

The soldier priests were struck with awe at the arrival of this legendary angel, their reverence for the grandiose being palpable. The presence of such a magnificent being also had a profound impact on the casters, boosting their morale significantly. Some trembled with excitement, while others huddled together, whispering prayers in reverence and anticipation. The atmosphere was charged with a mixture of wonder and faith as they beheld the celestial marvel before them.

However, all this was lost upon the dragonoid and his companion. The pair simply stared at the levitating creature.

That's it?! Do they really call that the highest tier of angels?

"Now do you understand the power that you are facing?!" Nigun's voice rang out with unrequited joy, "You may have been strong enough to best the Archangel Flames. You may have known some trick that allowed you to overcome the Principality Observation. But now, your end is assured."

With their hand revealed, Tiberius could see that there was little reason for worry. No longer under the threat of an unknown adversary, the dragonoid relaxed. Disengaging from his guard stance, straightened his posture and returned his weapon to its resting position.

The dragonoid could only shake his head upon seeing the enthusiasm and arrogance which this man displayed. It brought back memories of players who had thought themselves powerful simply for the fact they had reached max level.

Yuliana was quick to follow suit as she too allowed herself to be laxer in her defense. However, she did maintain a wary eye upon their foes.

"You should feel proud warrior. Not in two hundred years has there been a force that has necessitated this most exalted of angels to be dealt with."

"You continue to mock me," came the derisive reply.

Nigun stared at the warrior in stunned puzzlement. Was this man truly insane? Surely he must be to spout such nonsense in the face of his own destruction.

Tiberius regarded the brash man.

"You preach of your strength and issue your threats. And yet you show no signs of possessing any strength."

"You dare to continue to show such disrespect. Even now, in the face of the most exalted of angels. Does your blasphemy know no bounds?!" Filled with seething hatred, Nigun glared at the silver-clad figure.

He must have a death wish to be so calm. For a moment a pang of doubt wedged itself in his thoughts. Or could… could it be he's hiding something? Another trick? No! It's impossible. No force on this earth can withstand Dominion Authority. Not even the Demon Gods of two hundred years ago could resist its might.

Refusing to believe such a thing the scar-faced commander vigorously shook his head. He lunged forward, raising his fist before him as he decried his opponent.

"No! It's not possible! There is nobody stronger than this most highly placed of the angels!" Lifting his eyes, he looked at the towering creature, "Dominion Authority! Go! Use [Holy Smite], destroy these heathens!"

Complying with the man's wishes, the winged creature moved forward.

In response, the dragonoid tightened his grip upon the hilt of his longsword. Raising his arm, he held the weapon parallel to the ground.

"[Reality Slash]."

With a swift swing, Severance's blade traced a wide-sweeping arc before him. From this agile motion, a band of gleaming energy emerged, no thicker than a strand of hair, shaping itself into a crescent moon. The radiant arc streaked across the field in less than the blink of an eye.

The attack struck the angel's torso with near-instantaneous precision.

At first, there was a fleeting moment of hope among the soldier priests, as it seemed nothing had happened to the angel. However, that hope was swiftly shattered.

The force of the attack tore a clear division in the angel's body, revealing its devastating impact. Yet, it wasn't just the Principality Observation that appeared affected; the very sky itself seemed to bear witness to the power unleashed. A great and terrible gash spread across the heavens, as if the attack had sliced through the very fabric of reality itself. The awe-inspiring sight left everyone gasping in astonishment and fear, realizing the staggering magnitude of the dragonoid's power.

A brilliant flash of golden light exploded, illuminating the entire area and temporarily blinding the human mages. As the dazzling radiance subsided and their vision returned, they were met with a disheartening sight. Dominion Authority, the highest order of angel, had vanished, leaving nothing but an empty void in the once-occupied space of the sky. The breathtaking creature of legend was no more, having been returned to the ethereal realms.

As the summoned monster disintegrated Tiberius lowered his weapon.

Using a powerful 10th-tier spell had been a massive waste of mana; far more than was necessary to defeat an angel of that level. But this battle had dragged on for far too long, and listening to the man's gloating had eroded Tiberius' patience to its limits. It was a disgraceful encounter that pushed him over the edge, and he had taken decisive action to bring about its unceremonious end.

Across the field the men of the Sunlight Scripture watched with heads inclined, their collective gaze fixed on the gaping wound in the heavens.

A black void, seemingly consuming the world around it like water cascading over a cliff, appeared for a brief moment before fading, leaving the sky pristine once again.

But the damage was already done.

Witnessing a legendary icon of the Theocracy obliterated so effortlessly in a single attack left them speechless, struggling to comprehend the impossible feat they had just witnessed. Stunned and awestruck, the soldier priests could only gape in silence as time ticked by. Fortunately, their leader managed to regain enough composure to respond, though the shock was evident in his voice.

"H-h-how is this possible?!" the man's voice was low, little more than a choked whisper. His horror-filled gaze locked on the stranger, "Y-you! What are you?! Are you a… demon? It must, you must be a Demon God!"

Hearing their leader's words, the mages shrank back, their terror for their opponent finding a new hold upon them.

Within the consciousness of these men, this could be the only answer.

For in the totality of the world, there was only a mere handful of beings capable of doing battle with the highest of angels.

The Six Great Gods, to which all citizens of the Slane Theocracy owed allegiance.

The veritable kings of the mighty race of dragons, beings known as the Dragon Lords.

And in the past, there was said to be a fabled monster who had destroyed an entire kingdom single-handedly. Only for it to vanish from history. This mysterious creature was known only for the moniker it had garnered - Landfall.

Then there had been the Demon Gods.

Creatures of evil who two hundred years ago had plunged the world into chaos, spreading mayhem and terror in their wake. Records indicate that these monsters met their ends at the hands of the renowned party of heroes known simply as the Thirteen Heroes.

What if the recorded histories were wrong? Could it be that not all of the creatures had been destroyed? And now, these two warriors who emerged seemingly out of nowhere, could they be long-lost survivors of that terrifying group?

"I am nothing of the sort," the booming voice of the adversary broke through the men's stunted mental state, "But I know what you are. You are nothing but a fool, a bully, and a coward! And I've dealt with plenty of your ilk before."

With deliberate steps, the dragonoid closed in on the enemy battle lines. Raising his sword arm, Tiberius pointed the blade at the scar-faced man.

To the soldier priests, the armoured warrior seemed to tower over them. With each stride, he appeared to grow larger, as if a mythic giant had descended from a mountain to walk among mortals.

"You come here, so assured of your own strength. You terrorize those that you consider weaker than yourself without care. But when you find someone stronger than yourself. You can only scream and flail about in your childish tantrums."

A number of the men, unable to take the pressure collapsed to their knees. Their faces showcased only vacant expressions.

The dragonoid pressed forward, covering half the distance between them before suddenly coming to a halt. With a sharp jerk of his head, he turned his gaze skywards.

Intrigued by what might have caught the attention of such an unimaginable foe, the commander and his men also turned their gazes skyward.

Across the sky, a web of fine fractures stretched out like a shattered mirror, the world seemingly unable to bear the strain. Pieces of the sky fell like glass shards, only to vanish before reaching the ground. As quickly as they had appeared, the cracks vanished, leaving the sky whole once more.

While he had never seen such a reaction before. Tiberius instinctively knew the cause.

Scrying magic, a common tactic for spies, was met with countermeasures in YGGDRASIL. The developers had implemented various abilities to prevent the careless abuse of divination magics and protect the privacy of players.

Among the defensive skills were passive abilities that concealed a player's location, making them impossible to discern. On the other hand, there were offensive skills that actively countered scrying attempts. If someone tried to spy on a player using scrying, an explosive counter-reaction would occur, and the power of the explosion could be further enhanced through other skills and leveling up.

One particularly amusing counter-skill involved summoning a multitude of mid-tier monsters to the diviner's location upon activation. These monsters were weak, but they had absurdly high stats in agility and stealth. The purpose of summoning them wasn't to engage in combat, but rather to make a nuisance of themselves. They would steal from a player's inventory and generally harass them, causing frustration and confusion.

So someone was running an observation op. But the question is were they trying to use it on me? No, if I had been the target then my defensive abilities would have kicked in sooner. Instead, it only activated when I moved closer.

Leveling his head, Tiberius allowed his gaze to settle on the scar-faced leader of the opposing force.

Then they must have been using it on them. Watching their own men.

"So, it seems someone has been using magic to spy on the proceedings. I wonder just how much they were able to see of your failures."

The dragonoid's words struck a chord with Nigun.

Somehow he knew the answer.

The only logical source capable of using such powerful magic to observe them from afar could be none other than his superiors back in the Slane Theocracy. The Cardinals were the only ones who knew about the unit's mission and their exact location.

"Perhaps I should apologize for the interruption. But regrettably, for them, my defensive barriers put an end to their observing." Tiberius' tone was one of mirth, a cruel sense of amusement, "But we can't have anyone peeping on what's to come, now can we?"

A fresh wave of dread rolled over the men of the Slane Theocracy at the implication of those words.

"No! No, no wait, please wait! I beg of you, Sir Warrior! I want to make a deal with you. I'll pay you whatever you want if you'll spare our lives. Or just my life, the rest of these men don't matter. I swear I'll do anything to appease you!"

In the edges of Nigun's vision, he noticed many of his subordinates turning towards him. The soldier priests stared in disbelief at their leader, shocked by his willingness to abandon them and save himself. To hear such words from a man they trusted so deeply felt like the ultimate betrayal.

But Nigun did not care for their lives. At this moment his only concern was for the continuance of his own life.

"You would so easily abandon your comrades. Toss away all that you have been through together," the words left the dragonoid's throat in a low rumble, "You truly are pathetic."

As Tiberius surveyed the frightened men, a multitude of options presented themselves.

With his immense power, he could easily obliterate them with a single spell, erasing them from existence. Alternatively, he could dispatch them with his sword, just as he had done to their comrades.

But his armoured companion offered a new option, one that gave him pause.

"Lord Tiberius, if I may make a suggestion?"

Intrigued Tiberius turned, giving the Guardian his full focus, "Of course, you are always free to do so."

"Our purpose for this excursion from the mountain was to gather information, was it not? While what the humans of the village were able to provide us was limited. It now seems that we have an opportunity before us."

Yuliana shifted, extending her arm she directed to the enemy mages.

"The presence of these wretched creatures presents us with the chance to obtain information that we otherwise could not."

"Hmm, just what are you suggesting?"

"Why not take some of them as prisoners for interrogation?"

The dragonoid remained silent, choosing not to answer immediately as he considered the Guardian's proposal.

She's right, the whole reason for this outing was for information. At the time, I had only meant to protect the villagers from the knights. But now, it seems I've stumbled into what feels like an assassination plot. He sighed, Although Captain Stronoff did mention that these individuals are high-ranking members of the Slane Theocracy. If we can capture them, they might possess invaluable information that others couldn't provide.

"Your idea has merit behind it. So be it," the dragonoid mused, "But which of them would you suggest we take?"

The Guardian Overseer smiled behind her helmet.

"Why we will take the leaders of the enemy force, of course. Being of high rank, they would be most likely to possess sensitive information."

As the men of the Theocracy watched the pair of warriors speak, they could not help but wonder what the topic of discussion was. They could only surmise that whatever it may be. Nothing good would come of it.

The silver-clad warrior turned and addressed his audience.

"You spoke of demons before and so I have decided to let you meet one."

Hearing the words, a feeling of despair gripped Nigun so tightly that it threatened to bring him to tears.

Looking on the Theocracy mages beheld as a yawning black void appeared, its edges wreathed in purple flames, was birthed from the ether.

As the portal materialized, a man emerged with a commanding presence.

Even from afar, one could discern his tall, robust figure and rugged countenance, partly concealed by flowing raven hair dancing in the breeze.

Clad in Gothic plate armour of somber damp ash, he wore a tattered black cape with a vivid scarlet interior, its high collar reaching up to his jawline. In his hands, he wielded a formidable onyx scepter, more akin to a cane with a morning star's head.

The man emerged from the void, pausing briefly before confidently striding forward. His disciplined posture mirrored that of a seasoned warrior, but there was an air of regality about him, as if he were a king.

As their eyes met his piercing gaze, a dreadful sense of foreboding washed over each of them. It felt as though they were facing a fierce, predatory beast ready to devour its prey.

The stranger approached the two silver-armoured warriors, circling around them before finally standing in front. With a graceful gesture, he knelt down, laying his scepter on the grass as if making an offering. Behind him, his tattered cape spread across the ground, resembling a pair of wings.

"Koraboros," Tiberius greeted.

"What is your bidding, my master?" the Demon Lord's deep accented voice carried on the breeze to reach even the ears of the mages.

However, his answer came not from the dragonoid but from his fellow Guardian.

"Koraboros, these pathetic wretches have brazenly chosen to take arms against our master." The other Guardian's face hardened at her words, "The three upon the hill. We require that they be captured and chained in the Pits of Tartarus until such a time the master decides to conduct their interrogation."

With a tilt of the head, Koraboros gazed up at the pair before him, "And what does the master wish of the others?"

Behind the closed face of her helmet, the Guardian Overseer's expression soured with envy. It was jealousy that another would be given such a task. Yet while the feeling affected her thoughts, she did not let it taint her tone.

"You are free to wound and maim however you wish. But they shall be dealt with in accordance to the master's will."

The Demon Lord lifted his right hand, placed the palm over his heart, and bowed his head once more, his long hair obscuring his face.

"As you wish, my lord."

The soldier priests of the Slane Theocracy observed as the stranger stood up, his gaze fixed on them. With deliberate and measured steps, he began to cross the field, each movement seemingly stretching time itself.

As the enigmatic figure drew nearer, an oppressive force bore down upon the magic casters. The air thickened, suffocating them like a wet blanket. Their bodies refused to obey the instinct to escape, as if bound by an unseen force. Panic and dread washed over them, leaving them paralyzed and vulnerable in the face of this overwhelming power.

With a sudden blur, the enigmatic figure vanished from sight, dissipating like a haunting mirage before their disbelieving eyes.

Then, a blood-curdling scream tore through the air, shattering the eerie silence that had settled over the battlefield. All eyes turned, drawn to the source of the horrific sound. Amongst the soldier priests, a man clutched his shattered right arm, the remnants of his robes torn and bloodied. The limb was mangled, an agonizing sight of torn flesh, exposed muscle, and splintered bones protruding from the ghastly injury.

Gasps and horrified murmurs spread like wildfire among the ranks, and the air was filled with a palpable sense of terror. The sheer brutality of this unseen assailant had been revealed, leaving them all paralyzed by fear and uncertainty.

The dark-haired man materialized once more, and a sinister smile crept across his features, a haunting, feral grin that bordered on the edge of madness. His blood-red eyes, with pupils narrowed to slits, seemed to glow with an inner fire, radiating an intensity that could consume all in its path. To meet his gaze was to feel the searing heat of a raging inferno, a look that promised destruction and devastation to anyone who dared challenge him. The soldier priests couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread as they stood before this formidable and seemingly unhinged foe.

In a valiant attempt to protect his comrade, a soldier priest raised his arm, summoning the power of an offensive spell. A brilliant yellow bolt of light surged forth from his open palm, hurtling towards the assailant. But just as quickly as it appeared, the magical projectile dissipated into nothingness, its energy snuffed out before it could reach its intended target. The mage stood in disbelief, realizing that their magic was rendered useless against this enigmatic and terrible foe.

Bewildered by the unexpected turn of events, the caster hesitated, trying to comprehend the sudden disappearance of their adversary. In that brief moment of hesitation, the enemy vanished from sight, leaving behind only the injured and screaming man. A fleeting glimpse of movement caught the corner of the mage's eye, and as he turned, he found himself face-to-face with the foe that had silently closed in on him. The air around them crackled with tension, and the caster knew he was now locked in a deadly confrontation with a force beyond his comprehension.

The sinister smile on the stranger's face grew grotesque as he swiftly swung his obsidian scepter. In an instant, the mage's world turned upside down. The force of impact violently expelled the air from his lungs, sending him soaring through the air like a helpless puppet. With limbs flailing, he crashed and tumbled across the grassy field, a lifeless doll cast aside by a cruel hand. Agonizing pain shot through his body, leaving him crippled and unable to fathom the possibility of ever rising again.

On the sidelines, Tiberius and Yuliana stood, witnessing the Fifth Floor Guardian's rampage amidst the terrified humans. Like a haunting specter, he moved among them, leaving a trail of screams and devastation in his wake. The soldier priests fell before him, helpless against the cruel and precise strikes of his regal weapon.

With ruthless efficiency, Koraboros inflicted unspeakable cruelty upon his victims, leaving behind a scene of mangled limbs, crushed bones, and ruptured organs. The sheer brutality of his actions was horrifying to behold.

As one of the mages struggled to regain control of his body, he saw an opportunity to escape while the Demon Lord was occupied with another victim. Fueled by desperation, he took a chance and attempted to flee, hoping to find a way out.

However, his attempt at escape was futile. Within moments of taking several steps, he collided with an invisible force, as if he had run into a solid wall. The impact sent him stumbling backward, realizing that there was no way to escape the clutches of the Demon Lord.

Koraboros loomed over the terrified mage, his touch was strangely tender as he cupped the man's head in his hands. For a brief moment, the mage's struggles seemed to ease as the Demon Lord ran his thumbs over his cheeks, almost soothingly.

But the facade of tranquility shattered when Koraboros' gloved thumbs covered the man's eyes. A wicked grin appeared on the Demon Lord's face as he mercilessly plunged his thumbs into the mage's eye sockets. A spine-chilling shriek pierced the air as excruciating pain consumed the once-calmer mage. Blood and crushed fluids mixed, flowing down the man's anguished face in a gruesome spectacle.

Seeing the brutality visited upon his men and listening to their wails of anguish, Nigun could only quake in adulterated terror. Too afraid or unwilling to try and lend his aid, he knew it was only a matter of time before this monster worked his way.

The monster in human form turned, looking in his direction. His eyes were alight with the heat of the infernal pit.

With a high-pitched cry, Nigun turned and shoved two of his subordinates from his path. The muscles of his legs were flooded with oxygen-rich blood as his adrenaline surged. Driven by his fear, Nigun began to run from the battlefield.

Following their commander's example, two of his lieutenants, having regained their footing, trailed after the fleeing man.

In the face of his prey escaping, the Demon Lord's smile wavered for a brief moment. But then it returned to its full glory as Koraboros raised his hand.

"[Summon mid-tier fiend, Bone Devil]."

Amidst the dried grass, several yards away from the Demon Lord, an arcane circle blazed with fiery orange light. Ethereal wisps of green flame danced along its border, while the ground within the circle cracked and crumbled. From this gaping fissure in the earth, a sinister form emerged, clawing its way through the smoldering dirt until it stood upright on two feet.

Emerging from the cracked ground was a nightmarish sight - a humanoid husk, resembling a cadaver with its pallid, desiccated skin stretched taut over its gaunt form. Its head bore an eerie fusion of human and monstrous features, with a wide, menacing maw filled with dagger-like fangs, designed to rend flesh with ease. Its elongated limbs ended in fearsome claws, while sharp bony protrusions jutted out from its spine and joints.

From the base of its spine extended a long, sinewy tail, tipped with something akin to a scorpion's stinger, with vertebrae transformed into vicious thorns. Six insectoid wings beat rhythmically, spreading the putrid stench of decay into the surrounding air.

In their terror, the onlookers recognized the horrifying form of an evil spirit.

Exiting the summoning circle, the Bone Devil moved with an unsettling, staggered gait, inching closer to the Demon Lord. Finally, it reached its destination and knelt obediently at his feet. Thick, sticky strands of fluorescent green drool dripped from its lower jaw, leaving an eerie trail on the ground.

Koraboros smirked, "Fetch!"

The infernal creature shrieked and beat its wings in swift succession. Then with a lunging leap, it took to the sky in pursuit of human prey.

o – o – o – o

Through the tall grass the three men, robes fluttering in the wind, ran as quickly as their legs could carry them. They did not know how far they had come, but it was enough. There would never be enough distance that could be put between them and those monsters.

Most unfortunate was that their movements began to grow sluggish. Their muscles started to burn with the need for rest and their lungs ached. As the need grew worse, it wasn't long before their legs felt like rubber and their feet akin to heavy lumps of lead.

As fatigue wrecked the men's bodies it gave them no choice, forcing them to stop and attempt to recuperate. Staggering to a halt, they hunched over planting their hands upon their knees, and panted. Every breath came heavy and their mouths felt as dry as a desert.

Though exhaustion crept over them, the trio took small comfort that there appeared to be no pursuit. Perhaps the gods had graced them and their absence had gone unnoticed.

"Commander… Nigun," one man gasped between breaths, "W-what are… we going… to do now?"

"Yes, we… can't run… forever."

Nigun glanced at the pair of subordinates that like himself had the nous to escape before pulling himself up to his full height. His black eyes scanned the horizon, particularly in the direction from which they had fled.

"It doesn't appear that the enemy is pursuing," Nigun paused to think, "So we'll head for the border of Baharuth. As allies of the Slane Theocracy, they'll welcome us and we'll be able to send word back to the Theocracy. They'll send us reinforcements from the other Scriptures. Then with them, we will…"

The trio's leader fell silent as an odd sound filled the air. The strange noise was carried on the wind, something akin to a hum. It reminded the men of hearing the late-night buzzing of insects. Yet what was odder still was that the area had been quiet.

The heads of the three men moved on a swivel as they searched for the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from all around them and yet they could find no definite source.

Another sound rose above the odd hum, an ear-piercing screech. It was a shrill cry so harsh that all three men were forced to clamp their hands over their ears to block it out. Yet it persisted even through the leather of their gloves and the flesh of their hands.

The noise grew louder, setting their nerves on edge as a sudden chill raced down their spines.

An abrupt gust of wind dislodged loose dirt and bore it aloft in a choking cloud. A ghastly howl echoed as the winds died and the cloud faded to reveal the winged monstrosity.

The Theocracy operatives could only stare at the creature, a being that could best be described as a nightmare given flesh.

Nigun remembered the stories he'd heard in his youth. Of the tales told by the cardinals of the demons and devils, creatures that existed as twisted mockeries of the angels the Slane Theocracy revered so much. If there ever was such a wretched abomination, it was surely standing before them now, and under its gaze, he felt the blood in his veins turn to ice.

The Bone Devil's snarling jaws oozed sickly discoloured saliva as it advanced on the group, its movements unnaturally jerky. The fiend's burning desire to torment its prey kept its bestial impulses in check, allowing it to move with a sinister grace.

At least for the time being.

In reaction, the three men could only retreat in the face of the threat.

"[Iron Hammer of Righteousness]."

"[Holy Ray]."

A surge of energy erupted from the hand of the mage on the left, coalescing into a war hammer that hovered weightlessly in the air. With a steady arm, the caster aimed the magically created weapon at the terrifying monster before them.

Simultaneously, his fellow mage was enveloped in a shining golden aura. The brilliant light emitted a radiant glow akin to the sun, yet it was gentle to the eyes, offering a sense of comfort. Extending his arm, the man aimed his palm at the devil. At the focal point of his hand, the glow intensified, resembling a tiny star held within his grasp.

Without a word shared between them, the two men prepared to unleash their magical onslaught.

The Bone Devil appeared almost amused as the first magical attack approached. With an outstretched, emaciated arm, it effortlessly caught the ethereal construct within its grasp. There was no collision or screech of pain from a dying monster. Instead, the infernal creature simply closed its overly long fingers around the magical metal and, with a simple flex of its hand, shattered the object into thousands of tiny fragments that evaporated into nothingness.

The second mage acted swiftly, channeling his focus into his hand until the essence within reached critical mass. With a powerful gesture, he released a torrent of golden light that sprayed forth like a holy river.

The Bone Devil hesitated, sensing the diametrically opposed nature of the oncoming blast. Its grotesque face twisted into a feral snarl as it emitted a deep hiss. Raising its arms in defense, the unholy creature pressed its forearms together, creating an impromptu shield.

The clash was breathtaking, a dazzling display of lights erupted on impact as the ray of holy energy collided with the devil's defenses, scattering in all directions. The ground beneath them trembled from the sheer force of the encounter.

A glimmer of hope flickered in the hearts of the trio of casters as the creature vanished, engulfed by the brilliant light. Yet, as the blinding illumination waned and the smoke dispersed, their hope was shattered, leaving them speechless and despondent.

The devilish monstrosity remained unscathed.

Their courage waned, and the two mages turned to find themselves abandoned by their stalwart leader, who had left them to face the encroaching horror alone.

With no other option but to confront the relentless horror or flee for their lives, the decision was quickly made.

Determined not to let its chosen prey slip away, the Bone Devil sprang into action, lowering itself onto all fours and galloping after the men like a ravenous beast. Its elongated limbs propelled it across the almost uniformly flat terrain with astonishing speed, rapidly gaining ground on the fleeing humans.

The man at the back of the group was unfortunate enough to be the first one caught.

With a swift and brutal motion, the devil's long arm swept his feet from under him. As the fiend's massive hand clutched his leg, the mage let out a blood-curdling scream, the sound of pure terror. Suspended in the creature's vice-like grip, he dangled helplessly in the air. The devil drew him closer, its putrid breath washing over him, and its fiery eyes locked onto his own, burning with malice.

The soldier priest screamed in terror, his voice echoing through the air as the winged beast let out a menacing snarl.

In a violent display of strength, the Bone Devil swiftly yanked its arm back, sending the man hurtling through the air like a ragdoll. He crashed into the ground with a sickening thud, the impact reverberating through his skull like a tolling bell. The world around him blurred, and darkness crept into the edges of his vision, slowly engulfing him in an abyss of unconsciousness.

With a cruel curiosity, the Bone Devil lifted the man's lifeless body, shaking it slightly as if to test its authenticity. The soldier priest remained still, his pretense of unconsciousness convincing enough to deceive the monstrous creature. Satisfied, the devil released its grip, allowing the man to crumple to the ground like a discarded puppet.

Without a moment's hesitation, the infernal beast turned its attention to the second panicking individual, who was still fleeing desperately.

The Bone Devil's long, loping strides brought it within reach of the fleeing mage. With a vicious burst of speed, the unholy creature launched itself through the air, tackling the unfortunate man to the ground with brutal force.

The mage was trapped beneath the devil's hulking bulk, his body pinned and the air driven from his lungs by the impact. Despite his desperate struggles, he was helpless against the immense strength of the fiend. The weight of the devil pressed down on him, rendering his resistance futile.

With a sinister snarl, the Bone Devil leaned in closer, its grotesque features contorted into a sadistic grin. The mage's struggles only seemed to amuse the beast, intensifying its satisfaction in the torment it inflicted upon its prey.

In that fleeting moment of relief, the pressure on the mage's body lessened, offering a glimmer of hope. However, his respite was short-lived as a searing pain erupted on the side of his neck. A sharp object had penetrated his flesh, and the agony radiated through his entire being.

Was it the cold steel of a blade that had found its mark?

Or had one of the devil's wicked talons savagely punctured his tender skin?

He couldn't tell in the chaos of the moment, and the pain was too overwhelming to focus on anything else. All that was certain was that he was now at the mercy of the monstrous creature, and his life hung precariously in the balance.

A searing, burning sensation surged through his veins, originating from the wound on his neck. As the fiery agony spread, his hands and feet began to tingle, like pins and needles crawling up his limbs. The world before his eyes blurred and twisted, warping into strange and unsettling shapes. Nausea overwhelmed him, and he could no longer control the urge to empty his stomach, just like he had experienced during his youth, tossed about at sea in a raging storm.

Desperately, he tried to move, to distance himself from the foul-smelling and chunky liquid expelled from his body. But his efforts were in vain; his limbs refused to obey. A numbing sensation enveloped him entirely, rendering his body limp and unresponsive. It felt as if all his muscles had surrendered to sleep. Even his voice deserted him as he attempted to cry out, but no sound escaped his lips, only a silent, agonizing plea for relief from the unrelenting pain and fear he was trapped in.

Having accomplished its vile mission, the Bone Devil retracted its venomous stinger from the man's neck. Slowly rising, it loomed over its incapacitated prey, prodding him with a taloned finger as if to revel in his suffering. Then, without a second thought, the devil turned away, its malevolent gaze scouring the surrounding lands in search of its final quarry.

Cautiously hidden within a shallow and muddied ditch, Nigun peered over the rim, his heart pounding in his chest. He had witnessed the Bone Devil mercilessly hunt down and annihilate his former comrades. Grateful for the cunning decision to abandon them, he justified it as a necessary sacrifice. After all, he was their commander, the most crucial asset of the unit, and preserving himself took precedence above all else. So while the fiend was preoccupied with his hapless subordinates, Nigun had sought refuge in this concealed spot, weaving every stealth spell he knew to stay hidden.

His instincts kicked in, prompting him to lower his head and withdraw beneath the bank whenever the monstrous creature's attention seemed to turn his way.

Amidst the soft rustling of grass, he caught the faint sound of footsteps approaching.

Summoning his courage, Nigun cautiously rose again, heart pounding in his chest. To his immense relief, he saw the Bone Devil moving away, its monstrous form growing smaller in the distance.

Turning around, he slid along the earthen embankment, seeking a more secure position. As he settled down, his back pressed against the cool, damp soil, he allowed himself a moment to relax. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to steady his trembling nerves.

Now free from immediate danger, Nigun's mind drifted to the path that lay ahead.

The border of the Baharuth Empire was a journey of many days on foot. But perhaps fate would smile upon him, and he'd cross paths with a traveler or come across a small homestead where he could acquire a proper mount to hasten his journey.

If the locals proved uncooperative in parting with their beast of burden, well, he had other means at his disposal. They were mere peasants, after all, and their needs were inconsequential compared to his. If a little harsh persuasion was required, so be it. In the grand scheme of things, the disappearance of a weary traveler or a poor farmer meant little in a world where untimely and unpleasant ends befell people far and wide.

Yet, amidst his thoughts of travel and dark schemes, a weighty question gnawed at Nigun's conscience: What was he to tell the Cardinals upon his return to the homeland?

They were powerful high-ranking members of the Slane Theocracy governing body, and they had entrusted him with a crucial mission. The thought of facing their judgment was enough to send shivers down his spine. What excuse could he possibly conjure for his failure, for the loss of his men, and for the unrelenting terror that now haunted his memories?

Surely, the Cardinals would not look kindly on the loss of an entire Scripture, nor his failure to protect the Holy Relic.

Yet, amidst the turmoil of his thoughts, Nigun grasped onto a glimmer of hope. Perhaps not all was lost. Despite the setbacks, he carried something of great value - information. Information about those warriors who had humiliated him and exhibited monstrous power, like the one who effortlessly dispatched the legendary Dominion Authority.

The idea of using this information as a bargaining chip took hold in his mind. Yes, that was it. He could turn this dire situation in his favour. If he could provide the Cardinals with detailed knowledge of these formidable adversaries, they might see value in sparing him from their wrath.

They might even see fit to reward him handsomely, granting him promotions and privileges akin to those of the esteemed Black Scripture. Perhaps the opportunity to take more than one bride like some in the upper echelons of the Theocracy.

With newfound determination, Nigun planned to make his return to the Slane Theocracy more than a tale of defeat. He would weave a narrative of triumph, using every ounce of cunning and deception at his disposal. After all, in this world of power and politics, information was as potent as any weapon, and he intended to wield it to secure his own survival and ambition.

As Nigun basked in the self-assured glow of his cunning plans, he was blissfully unaware of the subtle shift in the air around him. The once soothing breeze turned into a stifling, moist gust, carrying with it an overwhelming and vulgar odor. It was a scent of death and decay, so vile that it assaulted his senses, causing his nose to twitch and his stomach to churn.

The pungent stench invaded his nostrils, making him gag and cough, tearing him away from his moment of contentment. His eyes watered as he struggled to regain his composure, the reality of his precarious situation seeping back in. Whatever momentary peace he had felt evaporated, replaced by a gnawing sense of foreboding.

As the wind swept over him once more, Nigun felt an icy chill run down his spine, causing him to break out in a cold sweat. His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to burst through his ribcage. The taste of bitter acid filled his throat as fear consumed him.

With trembling movements, Nigun's head began to inch backward, away from the edge of the ditch where he had sought refuge.

But his retreat was halted by a bone-chilling sight. Peering over the rim of the depression was the horrifying fiend, its sinister features sending shivers down Nigun's spine.

With his head tilted upwards, Nigun's unnaturally dark eyes met the blazing coals embedded within the terrible visage of the Bone Devil. As the pair locked eyes, the commander of the desolated Scripture found himself frozen in place. His body refused to respond to his commands, and not even the instinct to flee could overcome the powerful hold of absolute terror.

The Bone Devil opened its gaping maw, its gaze fixed on the paralyzed man. A long strand of sickly green drool dripped from its pale lips, landing on Nigun's scarred cheek. The hot thick, mucus-like substance burned his skin as it oozed down his jawline and neck to seep under the collar of his robes.

With a sinister tilt of its head, the devil extended one of its grotesquely long arms toward Nigun. The hand opened, and its unnatural, quad-jointed digits spread out, resembling a clawed spider descending upon him.

In this moment of utter despair and terror, the man's mind shattered.

Unable to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions any longer, he let out a primal scream - releasing all the pent-up fear that had been rattling his soul.

o – o – o – o

Amidst the carnage of shattered bodies and anguished cries, the solitary figure of the Demon Lord, Koraboros, stood tall. His hands moved through the air in accordance with a conductor as he guided a symphony. As he relished the suffering that surrounded him.

He walked with an air of malevolence, his eyes alight with sadistic delight as he passed the wounded humans. Their wheezing screams, gasping groans, and shrill shrieks of pain were music to his ears, a haunting melody that fueled the darkest depths of his pleasure. For Koraboros, such disharmony was a masterpiece, a composition of agony to be savoured like the finest vintage.

With a cruel grin, he toyed with the wounded, prodding them with the end of his mace-like scepter or a vicious kick, keen to extract every ounce of torment from their broken bodies. Each whimper, each shudder of pain, only intensified his euphoria, feeding his insatiable appetite for anguish.

With a wicked grin, the Demon Lord paused to savour the sight of their collective misery.

He enjoyed every moment of administering rightful punishment to these pitiful humans. It was a shame, though, that he couldn't unleash his full wrath upon them. The audacity of these mere mortals to stand before their master and dare to bring harm set his blood ablaze, igniting a hunger for unfettered carnage.

Oh, if only Lord Tiberius had given him free rein, Koraboros would have bestowed upon these pathetic worms torturous delights that would echo through the annals of legend. Their sorrow would become a dark sonata, a masterpiece of pain composed by his cruel hand.

Yet, even with the constraints placed upon him, the Demon Lord reveled in his malevolent work. As he moved from soldier to soldier, he meticulously inflicted debilitating injuries, ensuring they would endure prolonged agony, their lives forever shattered.

The Demon Lord's malevolent revelry was abruptly interrupted as a tingle at the back of his mind alerted him to the approach of his summoned creature. Koraboros lifted his head, eyes scanning the darkened evening sky in anticipation of its return.

Before long, the air resonated with a droning buzz, growing louder with each passing moment. The ominous sound heralded the Bone Devil's return, and it intensified to a fevered pitch, resembling the eerie clamor of a swarm thousands strong. The creature soon emerged into view, a fearsome sight that sent shivers down the spines of those who bore witness to its unholy presence.

From high above, the creature emitted its telltale screeching call before descending to the ground.

Like a falling star, the fiend descended rapidly from the night sky, its descent slowing as it neared the earth until it hovered effortlessly. With the steady beats of its insectoid wings, the devil touched down, gently cradling two of the human mages in its clawed hands, while the third man was suspended by the coils of the Bone Devil's long tail. As the creature turned to face its master, it lowered its arms and began to drag the prisoners along as it strode forward.

Koraboros' piercing gaze swept over the unconscious forms of the humans, ensuring they were still amongst the living. Satisfied with their condition, he turned away from them, seemingly uninterested in their plight.

"Follow."

The Bone Devil shivered, a soft rattling chitter coming from it as the devil's wings knocked against its many spines before it set off in tow after its master.

Together, the summoner and the summoned creature made their way to their collective sovereign.

Unmoving, Tiberius looked on as the two fiends approached him.

The Demon Lord moved with his typical graceful yet dominant bearing. Contrasted by the hunched-over form and submissive loping strides of the Bone Devil that followed in his wake.

"It is done, Lord Tiberius," the well-dressed Demon Lord announced with a sinister smile, his accented tones dripping with satisfaction. He gestured with a wave of his onyx scepter, commanding the summoned devil to approach.

Obeying the command, the emaciated fiend moved forward from yards away and laid its cargo at the dragonoid's feet. With a nonchalant shrug, it released the two mages it had been carrying, each landing with a soft thump and lying motionless on the ground. Shifting its posture, the devil brought its lengthy tail around to release the unconscious scar-faced man from its tight coils.

Tiberius inclined his head, scrutinizing the three men before him.

One of them bore a burning red welt on his neck, with black veins spreading out from its center like a sinister web. Another lay unconscious but seemingly unharmed. The last one was sprawled on the ground, his pants soaked with a foul-smelling liquid.

The stench hit Tiberius like a wave, and he instinctively pulled away, scrunching his face beneath his wolven-shaped helmet. The pungent and acidic smell of ammonia filled the air, causing him to recoil.

"You have done well, Koraboros. I am certain ΩmenForcer would be proud."

At the mention of his creator's name, Koraboros couldn't contain his excitement. His head lifted, and his intense gaze softened, revealing a genuine smile of gratitude that uplifted the corners of his mouth.

"I seek only to serve the Creators," the Demon Lord's voice was almost like a purr of contentment, "To know that my actions have pleased them so… it brings joy to my very core. I thank you, my lord."

Tiberius nodded before turning to the side.

"[Gate]."

Identical to the one that had borne Koraboros to the battlefield, an obsidian portal opened several yards away.

"If you would be kind enough to return to the mountain and see to it that these men enjoy the hospitality of Tartarus."

"Of course," the Demon Lord bowed his head, "I am certain Naagoth will be most generous in his greetings."

With a final bow, Koraboros bent down, firmly grasping the wrist of the leader of the human mages. Then, straightening up, he strode confidently toward the portal that would take him back to his realm, dragging the unconscious man along the grassy earth.

The Bone Devil, with its unnaturally long arms, easily lifted the remaining two men without the need to bend down. Its elongated fingers wrapped around their necks, and with a powerful pull, the fiend hauled them through the portal after its master.

As they vanished into the void, the portal dissipated, leaving the battlefield empty and silent once more.

With their compatriot gone, the dragonoid and the Guardian Overseer turned their attention back to the few remaining human mages.

As his gaze swept across the field, Tiberius no longer saw wounded and helpless men. Instead, all he saw were enemies – men who had committed terrible deeds and were planning to unleash more havoc. The fires of determination burned within Tiberius once again, igniting his sense of justice and duty to protect the innocent.

"Let's be done with this," he growled, his voice cold and resolute.

In one fluid motion, his right arm swept across his waist as the dragonoid resheathed the massive longsword at his side. His eyes now locked onto the cluster of magic casters occupying the grassy field.

"[Dragonfire Cyclone]," he roared, unleashing the full might of his devastating spell.

The dragonoid's commanding voice reverberated through the field, leaving an eerie hush in its wake. The gentle breeze that once rustled the long grass seemed to vanish, and the air grew still, pregnant with anticipation.

Then, a blinding burst of radiance erupted from the earth, spreading like a celestial tide. The light cascaded across the ground in undulating waves, illuminating the arcane circle etched into the soil.

The earth trembled beneath their feet, as if an ancient force had been awakened. The field roared with a sound akin to a charging freight train, shaking the very foundation of the battlefield.

Though wounded and in pain, the men of the Sunlight Scripture were now alert and wary. Their bewildered gazes met as they sensed an overwhelming surge of terror engulfing them. It was as if a new nightmare had taken hold, and they were powerless to escape its grasp.

From the edges of the arcane circle, wisps of brilliantly iridescent blue-green flame erupted from the earth. Like ethereal tendrils, they swirled and spiraled, reaching ever higher as if fueled by some unseen force.

As the flames soared, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, and then, as if responding to an unspoken command, the fires erupted into a tempestuous dance. From the frenzied blaze, a magnificent form emerged – a winged creature with the majesty of a dragon.

The wraithlike being raced around the rim of the magic circle, each pass igniting the flames with greater intensity. The fire twisted and curled, following the creature's graceful movements. Faster and faster it spun, engulfing the circle's border with a blazing trail.

With each rotation, the inferno grew, unleashing scorching heat that scorched the surroundings. The ambient temperature soared, igniting small flames of orange and red amongst the tall grass, like a wildfire dancing to the creature's majestic display.

The fiery manifestation continued on its path, and with a powerful lunge, it unfurled its wings, soaring into the air with a graceful ascent. The swirling inferno seemed drawn to its presence, stretching itself upwards like a monolithic spire, towering over the landscape.

The brilliant blue-green blaze illuminated the skies, shining like a celestial beacon.

In a mesmerizing display, the flaming entity flew in an ever-tightening spiral, and as it ascended, the once-fevered winds at its base diminished. The spiral closed in, and the spectral dragon plunged into the blazing spire, only to burst from its crown and ascend above. With a mournful roar, the fiery creature spread its wings wide and like a magnificent firework, it exploded.

The blast radiated outward, forming a golden halo that encircled the towering inferno. Its brilliance, though breathtaking, was short-lived, as both the spire and the halo began to fade, leaving behind a memory of their awe-inspiring display.

In a matter of seconds, the once towering flames dwindled to mere flickering candles, pale imitations of their former glory, before finally sputtering out. The aftermath revealed a scene of devastation. The tall tufts of green grass had been reduced to ashes, leaving behind char-blackened earth. When a gentle breeze graced the scorched ground, it would sweep away the ash, revealing what lay beneath.

The previously loose soil had undergone a dramatic transformation under the extreme temperatures conjured by the magical blaze. It had turned into a dark glass-like substance, a testament to the immense heat. Where the men of the Theocracy had once lain, only scattered pools of liquid remained, glowing with a red-orange hue. Stripped of the insulating ash, the pools of molten material slowly cooled in the evening air. The ground, once teeming with life, now bore witness to the raw power unleashed upon it.

In the span of barely a minute, the cataclysmic event had unfolded, though it felt like an eternity.

"Yuliana," Tiberius spoke, breaking the silence, "We're done here. Let's head back to the village."

Together the pair turned away from the stretch of blackened earth and began the trek back to the waiting village. Neither of them gave the preceding events a second thought.

Striding through the remainder of the field, they followed the swath of trampled grass left in the wake of the Re-Estize soldier's earlier retreat. Although the two moved in silence, the dragonoid had the feeling this was not the desired case as he glanced at his companion.

"Is there something on your mind, Yuliana?"

The question seemed to catch the armoured female momentarily off guard. After a brief hesitation, she replied.

"I was merely reflecting on the events of recent and I am still puzzled."

"Oh, how so?"

"You explained your reasons for saving the human village. However, Lord Tiberius, I am rather curious as to why we saved that band of soldiers. As you, yourself, noted, they did not appear to possess any significant strengths. Nor were they tactically advantageous to the situation. So I am left to wonder, why did you choose to intervene? Are you planning to use them for information as well?"

"There are several reasons. During his battle, Captain Stronoff showcased abilities, which to the best of my knowledge did not come from YGGDRASIL. To see something unique to this world makes me curious to learn more about them. And to discover if it may be possible to learn them."

The dragonoid paused in his stride, inclining his head, he looked at the stars that were slowly becoming visible with the disappearance of the sun.

"But more than that, it was the courage he exhibited in the face of such odds and his desire to protect his comrades. It reminded me of my fellow Sanguine Dragons and the many encounters we fought through together. Such loyalty and integrity are traits I value highly and believe they should be rewarded."

"I see. But still, you did not need to place yourself in danger as you did." Yuliana retorted with quiet concern, "The extermination of those useless human knights demonstrated, that I could've handled those human mages with little difficulty. Or is it…"

She hesitated.

"… Is it because you have little faith in my ability to protect you?" the Guardian's voice wavered, teetering on the edge of distress. "I know my capability has gone unproven until today. But I assure you, I will not falter. I have devoted the entirety of my being to you."

Tiberius abruptly turned to face his escort, cutting off her words when he gently placed his gauntleted hand upon her shoulder.

"Yuliana, I do not doubt your ability. You and every other who dwells within Týrnaust have my absolute faith and trust. However, there is something about me that you should remember."

"What's that?"

"I am not one to let others fight my battles for me."

Tiberius drew in a breath, subconsciously straightening his posture.

"Do not fear thy enemy, Never turn your back upon a foe, Never refuse the challenge of an equal." The words were spoken in a solemn air, "Do you know these words?"

Yuliana shook her head, "I am afraid I do not."

"It's quite alright, it does not surprise me. After all, those words were not inscribed within the guild. They are a part of the creed to which all Sanguine Dragons were sworn."

"But my lord, these wretches were far from being your equal. Not in a thousand, not in a million lifetimes could they ever hope to rival your majesty."

The Guardian's reply was said with mirth before it turned serious.

"As Guardians of Týrnaust, the protection of the Supreme Beings is our utmost priority. It is the purpose of our very existence. But if you continued to place yourself in harm's way without us… What if you should encounter a powerful enemy? We would be unable to fulfill our appointed task and you could be injured. We could not live with ourselves if that were to happen."

"But then who would protect you?"

The dragonoid's question was not one that the Guardian Overseer had expected.

"I don't understand. We are Floor Guardians, servants to the Supreme Beings. Our lives are worthless by comparison."

"Do not say such things," Tiberius' tone was firm as if offended by her statement.

Yuliana's only response was to stare at the armoured being before her.

"I am - was, the Guild Master of the Sanguine Dragons. Seeing to the safety of each member was one of my chief duties. And my responsibilities do not end in their absence. Just as I looked after my fellows so too do I look after you and your fellows within Týrnaust. As I am certain your creators would not want to see harm befall any of you. Each of you is precious and irreplaceable. And I will not ask any of you to do something that I am not willing to do myself."

This is not a situation that I would have ever thought possible. That I would wake to find myself in some other world. Let alone living in the body of my YGGDRASIL avatar and talking to the previously lifeless NPCs. I guess miraculous would be as good a word for it as any.

Behind his helmeted mask, the dragonoid released a small sigh.

"However, you are right nonetheless, Yuliana. I must keep in mind that we are not in YGGDRASIL any longer. As such we don't know the full extent of the powers that exist within this new world. Thus I will endeavor to rely on you and the others more."

With each having had their say, the pair now stood in silence. Taking the moment to absorb what had been said as the peace of the evening settled over the area.

It was the dragonoid who was the first to break from this. His armour clinked softly as he turned and continued down the pathway toward the village.

Yet as her liege strode away, the Guardian Overseer remained rooted to the spot.

Oh, master… How can we be worthy of such devotion? You led the Creators as the greatest amongst them. You are so much more than we and yet you show such care for us that you stayed with us. Perhaps we aren't worthy of you… But we will try to be.

"Yuliana, are you coming?"

"Oh, yes, of course."

Behind the beautifully crafted mask, the female Guardian's eyes shone with fresh moisture.

o – o – o – o

The soldiers of the Re-Estize Kingdom marched through the deserted village, their footsteps echoing in the eerily quiet streets. The atmosphere was heavy with sorrow and confusion, as they tried to make sense of what had happened to them.

In a synchronized rhythm, the soldiers moved through the village, their minds burdened with recent events. Memories of the fierce battle, the hardships endured, and the wounds inflicted lingered in their thoughts. The loss of their comrades weighed heavily on their hearts, leaving them grappling with survivor's guilt. Each step they took felt like a solemn reminder of those who had fallen, leaving them to question why fate had spared them while taking others away.

Even the resolute commander found it difficult to escape the haunting thoughts that plagued the minds of his men.

"It still doesn't feel right," Gazef's head swiveled mid-stride, his gaze falling on his second-in-command, "Leaving those men behind like that."

"No, it doesn't," the Warrior-Captain concurred before returning his focus to the path ahead. "When this is over with we'll go back and reclaim the fallen."

After that, the two men fell into silence and joined the rest of the company as they continued their march. The village's tightly clustered buildings gradually thinned as they reached the opposite side. Despite the recent violence on the outskirts, an eerie calmness now hung over the area. Ahead, the village storehouse emerged, its silhouette casting a somber shadow. Inside, the anxious villagers awaited news, hoping to hear that all was safe and the threat had passed.

As they entered the open space, Gazef brought the group to a halt and turned to face his men. With a simple gesture, he conveyed his instructions, and his soldiers quickly understood what was required of them. They began to spread out, forming small groups and engaging in hushed conversations amongst themselves. Gazef observed their actions for a moment before redirecting his attention towards the large structure that lay ahead.

With his arm extended in front of him like a blind man seeking his surroundings, Gazef cautiously took a few steps forward. His hand encountered an invisible barrier, and he paused, carefully exploring the unseen surface with his gloved palm to confirm its continued integrity.

Feeling the invisible barrier pleased the Warrior-Captain.

This is how magic should be used, to better the lives of people. It's truly impressive what it can accomplish when under proper control.

"Captain," the Vice-Captain announced his approach, "Should I have the men disperse and ready our defenses?"

Gazef did not hesitate in his reply.

"No, I don't believe that such actions will be necessary."

Hearing his leader's nonchalant answer surprised Garro.

"I understand these foreigners are strong. But you saw for yourself just how powerful those mages were. Do you truly believe that those two will be able to overcome them?"

"Yes, I think…"

"Oh, Captain Stronoff, you've returned," the aged voice called out from the now parted storehouse doors.

"Ah, Chief Wyllam," Gazef greeted the other man.

Pushing apart the large doors, the village chief exited the structure and was soon followed by his wife. Once outside the older couple stood surveying the platoon of soldiers who milled about the area. Clutching each other's hands the married pair approached the men.

Prompted by the departure of the couple, others soon began to emerge from the storehouse. It wasn't long before it felt to the Warrior-Captain that the entirety of the village stood before him.

"Is it over?"

"Is the village safe?"

"Yes, please tell us."

"No, not yet. The battle still wages."

Gazef couldn't help but notice the once-relaxed expressions of the villagers twist into fresh anxiety upon his arrival. The sight, particularly among the children, pained him deeply. However, he couldn't let their fear linger. He was determined to do his best to help these people hold on to whatever hope they still possessed.

"People of Carne Village, please listen to me," the warrior's deep voice boomed through the crowd. "I know your fears and while it shames me to admit that we did not claim victory this day. But please, rest at ease, your village is in no danger."

"But how can you be sure?!"

"He's right. You lost!"

"Does that mean they'll be coming to attack us again?!"

"Yeah, what's to stop them?!"

The outcry grew as the fear-struck voices of others joined the chorus. Before the villagers, Gazef remained stoic as they vented their fear and frustrations upon him.

"I know the village is safe because the enemy now faces those that have already saved this village once before. Just as it was them who saved our lives as well."

"So what should we do then?" Chief Wyllam inquired.

"Believe in them," the Warrior-Captain's voice softened, "Believe that they will prevail this night against these foes."

The heartfelt tone of the soldier's words ignited muffled conversations among the villagers. It brought a semblance of peace back to the people, yet there were still those whose faces bore the heavy burden of anxiety and fear. The trauma they had endured had left deep scars, and no amount of comforting words could fully ease their troubled minds.

Feeling the weight of his limitations, Gazef turned away, his heart heavy with the knowledge that some wounds run too deep to heal with mere words.

"It seems that you managed to calm them. Somewhat."

"Aye," the bearded man responded to his youthful second-in-command, "Unfortunately, that is all I can do for them."

"You're too hard on yourself, Captain. You did your best."

Gazef clenched his fist, "And it wasn't enough."

Directing his gaze to the direction from which they had retreated, Garro spoke again, "You still believe that those strangers will be able to pull this off?"

"That I do," Gazef replied with a sharp nod.

"May I ask, Captain? What gives you such confidence in them?"

Answering the younger man's inquiry proved more difficult than Gazef had anticipated. As he reflected on the subject, he found it challenging to pinpoint a concrete reason beyond his own assumptions and the fleeting glimpse of their power he had been fortunate to witness.

After some contemplation, he decided that his initial response would suffice. He began to open his mouth to reply, but hesitated and closed it again. Perhaps some things were better left unspoken, he thought, as he chose to keep his thoughts to himself.

A sudden flash, bright and blinding, shattered the tranquil horizon. The assembled men, women, and children couldn't tear their squinting eyes away from the mysterious phenomenon. Even after the light faded, their gazes remained fixed on the spot, lingering in awe and trepidation.

As the villagers exchanged bewildered glances, a strong gust of wind swept through the village, leaving them breathless. The air carried a haunting howl, like the roar of some ancient and fearsome creature. The once-calm atmosphere was now filled with tension and uncertainty, as the people waited anxiously to see what would come next.

The tempestuous winds seized hold of anything in their path, transforming everyday objects into airborne missiles. The air became a maelstrom of flying debris, threatening to tear everything apart.

The soldiers of Re-Estize braced themselves, their bodies like unyielding bulwarks against the relentless barrage. They shielded their faces with their forearms, trying to protect themselves from the assault of flying projectiles. But the dirt and grit driven by the ferocious gusts managed to find its way through any gaps, stinging their skin and filling their lungs with choking dust.

In the face of this elemental fury, the warriors stood resolute, determined to weather the storm and protect the vulnerable villagers. The deafening howls of the winds seemed to challenge their resolve, but they held fast, their determination unwavering.

The people of Carne Village huddled together, seeking solace and protection within the confines of the shielding spell. It shielded them from the vicious onslaught of projectiles hurtling through the air, sparing them from harm. But the merciless winds, like a relentless beast, swept through the magical barrier, testing its limits and causing the villagers to brace themselves against its force.

Frantically, some of the men clutched at their caps, their hands desperately trying to keep the headwear from being torn away by the tempest. Others wrapped their arms around their families, holding them close as if fearing the very winds might snatch their loved ones away.

The tempestuous winds showed no mercy, especially to the women of Carne Village. Their long skirts fluttered violently in the air, resembling the wings of birds caught in a fierce storm. The gusts threatened to lift the fabric of their gowns, leaving them vulnerable and exposed to the elements. With cries of surprise, the women reacted swiftly, determined to preserve their modesty.

Some hunched over, their hands tightly gripping the wayward cloth, holding their skirts securely against their legs as if their very dignity was at stake. One brave young lady dropped to her knees, using her body weight as an anchor to keep her gown in place, her determination unyielding in the face of the relentless wind.

However, not all the women were able to defend themselves against the furious gusts. A few chose to prioritize their swaddled infants, clutching their little ones tightly to their chests, shielding them from the onslaught of the elements. Love and instinct guiding them, they braved the tumultuous winds, fiercely protecting their precious children amidst the chaos.

The aberrant gusts, thankfully, began to fade as swiftly as they had come. As the dust settled and the air calmed, a tense stillness hung in the atmosphere.

The villagers of Carne and their valiant defenders emerged from their sheltered positions, their bewildered gazes now fixed once more on the horizon. The violent display of nature's wrath had left them shaken, but the worst seemed to have passed.

"Look there!"

The eyes of all followed the pointing finger of the man.

"W-what is that?!"

"By the gods!"

The skyline, once shrouded in darkness, was now ablaze with an eerie green luminescence. The inexplicable glow intensified, casting an otherworldly hue upon the surroundings. A collective gasp escaped their lips as they tried to fathom the source of this strange phenomenon.

Then, as if summoned from the very earth itself, a wall of flames erupted into existence. The fiery blaze danced and swirled, twisting and turning until it coalesced into a mesmerizing spiraling column. With each passing moment, the pillar of emerald fire grew taller, stretching higher and higher, as if trying to touch the very heavens.

Despite the vast distance that separated the village from the towering inferno, some among the onlookers with keen vision could discern a faint shape amidst the growing spire. It moved with an unsettling grace, like a specter summoned from the depths of nightmares.

The people of Carne Village were left spellbound and fearful, their minds racing with questions and concerns.

Was it a mere illusion, a figment of their collective imagination? Or was there truly some unearthly creature astride the flames, riding the very inferno itself? What did this manifestation portend? As the enigmatic figure within the spiraling flames continued its ascent, the anticipation and tension in the air were palpable.

The spiraling column reached higher and higher, like a relentless drill boring its way through the very fabric of the clouds, piercing the heavens with its unearthly presence.

As the monolithic spire of flame loomed over the vast vista, a series of bright pulses surged up from the ground, tracing the fiery body's ascent. The pulses raced upward, following the twisting path of the flame until they reached its apex. At that moment, they erupted into the surrounding clouds, dispersing like flashes of lightning. Yet, there was an eerie silence that followed, no thunder accompanying the spectacle.

The onlookers were torn between shouts of alarm and awed fascination. No one could tear their gaze away from the incredible display unfolding before their eyes. It was as if they were witnessing a clash of worlds, the boundary between the mortal and the divine blurred by the spiraling flames.

All around, the villagers and soldiers whispered to each other, wondering about the meaning behind this enigmatic sight. Fear and wonder danced in their eyes, uncertain of whether they beheld a celestial marvel or an omen of impending doom.

"Captain, what is that? Is it the enemy?!" Vice-Captain Garro's agitated voice reached his leader's ear.

Looking on, Gazef found himself without answers.

Might the Theocracy's soldier priests be behind this? Could they genuinely possess the power for such a grand undertaking?

Throughout his life, Gazef had encountered rumors and hushed conversations about the astonishing abilities of mages. It was an open secret that magic could achieve remarkable, almost miraculous feats. It was these grand demonstrations that earned magic users widespread admiration from the general populace.

It was a common belief that more people were required to execute powerful spells or rituals.

Given that the adversary belonged to the prestigious group known as the Slane Theocracy's Six Scriptures, it was impossible to predict the extent of their formidable abilities.

Hence, Gazef found it difficult to completely dismiss the possibility. However, a gut feeling told the Warrior-Captain that the soldier priests were likely not the culprits.

Based on his firsthand experiences, Gazef was well aware of the existence of remarkably potent magic users in the world. Notably, he remembered the former member of the adamantine adventurer team, Blue Rose, who possessed exceptional powers. Additionally, there was a near-legendary magic caster residing in the Baharuth Empire. This individual's abilities were so renowned that he held a significant position within the court of the Baharuth Emperor, earning him the title of the Emperor's favoured magic caster.

As he observed the breathtaking spectacle before him, the bearded man couldn't imagine either of the mentioned magic users conjuring anything of this magnitude. Witnessing such a display of magical prowess was undoubtedly an exceedingly rare, once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.

Any doubts the bearded man might have held about the foreign warriors' power vanished with the blowing winds. As they departed, Gazef couldn't help but feel a profound sense of weakness, akin to a child standing amidst adults.

A sudden, hollow, almost pained, cry, jolted him from his thoughts, drawing his eyes to the fiery creature erupting from the peak of the blazing spire. The creature hovered in the air, stretching its wings wide as its haunting cry echoed throughout the area.

The beast's luminous glow intensified dramatically before it finally burst, unleashing a thunderous blast that resonated in their ears. After the apparent demise of the creature, a golden halo formed, encircling the tower of green flame.

As the golden halo gradually faded, the towering inferno in the sky started receding. With each passing second, it shrank smaller and grew dimmer until the once brilliant glow completely vanished from the horizon. The quiet of the night returned to the village as if the breathtaking spectacle had never occurred.

A gentle, cool breeze swept by, carrying with it an unusual sense of calm that had eluded them throughout the day.

o – o – o – o

"Look! Over there, they've come back!"

Amidst the gathered crowd, a jubilant voice rang out, capturing the attention of both villagers and soldiers. In unison, their heads turned to the direction the speaker had indicated just moments before.

Smiles spread amid the onlookers as striding along the simple dirt path between the village houses came a pair of armoured figures.

The Re-Estize soldiers parted before the two, allowing them to pass by unimpeded.

Gazing at the crowd before him, the dragonoid observed the stunned expressions on their faces. Moving forward, he diverted his attention to the gathering of people waiting ahead. Tiberius couldn't shake the distinct impression that, were it not for the shield spell still in place, some of the villagers would be rushing toward him with excitement and curiosity.

"[Greater Dispel]."

The unseen force field dissipated with a sound resembling a clap.

Initially, the villagers stood motionless, hesitant to leave the area that had provided them shelter during troubled times. However, the longing to return to their homes eventually prevailed, and they began to move.

Chief Wyllam and his wife Annora hesitated for a moment, their hands tightly gripping each other's. As they took their first steps, the rest of the villagers fell in line, following closely behind the older couple.

Leading the way, the village chief steered the throng of villagers past the soldiers and toward the waiting heroes of the day.

"Is the village safe? Are we safe?" Wyllam inquired as he looked up at the taller adventurer.

"Yes, you are safe now."

"Thank you. Thank you both."

The older chieftain's face lit up with a grateful smile as he bowed to the village saviours. His focus shifted when Annora reached up and gently patted his arm. The couple intertwined their arms and began the journey back to their awaiting home together.

Following the lead of their chosen leader, the rest of the village inhabitants soon followed suit, setting off on their way back home.

In a display of respect, some villagers praised the heroes with words of admiration, humble bows, and curtseys. Others, especially the youngest among them, extended trembling hands to touch the gleaming silver armour as if it were a sacred artifact.

The procession of people continued at a slow but steady pace, gradually thinning out until only a few stragglers remained. Among them were the recognizable faces of the family that the dragonoid had rescued earlier in the day.

Deliberately moving at a slower pace, the family ensured that they would be the last to approach.

The husband and wife walked side-by-side, with the woman holding tightly onto her husband's left arm as if she feared he might vanish if she let go. By her side, the youngest daughter displayed a cheery attitude, seemingly regaining the spirit the dragonoid remembered from earlier. Behind them, the elder daughter wore a soft smile.

As they stood before the armoured pair, all four members of the family bowed respectfully.

"Thank you again," Liam recited the words reverently, "I don't know how I could ever repay what you have done for us today."

For a moment the man turned his gaze to his wife and their two children, all of whom offered him bright smiles in return.

"I will be forever in your debt. If there is ever anything that I could do for you. You have only to name it and it will be done. This I swear to you and the gods above."

"As, do I," Sofina spoke, copying her husband's sentiments.

Tiberius merely offered the couple a nod of acknowledgment.

Upon receiving the silent affirmation, the family bowed once more before turning away and continuing their trek home.

The dragonoid watched the family until they were out of sight amongst the village houses. With the villagers gone, Tiberius now turned his focus to the soldiers that occupied the area.

The Re-Estize knights had begun to regroup under the direction of the Vice-Captain. However, it was clear the men still felt the strain of their experiences. Their reactions were unhurried and their movements were almost zombie-like.

Seeing this sight reminded Tiberius of the behaviour of the lowly salaryman at the end of a six-day workweek.

Not far from the Vice-Captain stood the unit's commanding officer. The pair of soldiers engaged in a brief dialogue before parting ways.

The younger man nodded curtly and remained amid his fellows, continuing to call out orders. While the Warrior-Captain strode through his soldiers, making his way toward the armoured duo.

Tiberius eyed the other's approach.

"Captain Stronoff, still feeling well I trust?"

Gazef chuckled, "Aside from my wounded pride. I find myself otherwise unharmed. What about you, Sir Tiberius? You and your companion are in good health I trust."

The dragonoid nodded, "Indeed, we are quite well."

"That's good to hear," the bearded soldier smiled, "After we saw that unearthly pillar of fire and that winged specter, whatever it was. I must confess that I had feared for your safety."

"I appreciate your concern; however, it was not necessary. It seems the enemy troops had greatly underestimated me."

Gazef regarded the speaker with an appraising eye. To hear the other warrior speak of the events after he departed from the battlefield only served to confirm Gazef's earlier suspicions.

So I was right after all. That display of power wasn't something conjured up by those Theocracy priests. His ability is truly above anything I have encountered before.

"May I ask, what exactly happened after my men and I departed from the battle?"

"I extended an offer to the enemy to surrender peacefully. However, it seemed they were more interested in fighting. And so I obliged. Unfortunately for them, it was a rather costly mistake."

"A mistake they will not be repeating," the formerly silent Guardian escort added.

Gazef nodded, understanding the meaning behind the statement. So it was as he had forewarned, that the magic casters had met their demise at the hands of this pair of foreign warriors.

He shook his head.

It was a shame that they hadn't spared a single one of the mages. The information a Theocracy soldier might've been able to provide could've proved valuable. But it couldn't be helped, no doubt the soldiers had fought to the end in their zealous fervor.

"Then it seems I once again find myself in your debt and unable to repay you, Sir Tiberius. Though should you ever make it to the Royal Capital, I will see to it that you receive a true hero's welcome. I am quite certain His Majesty, King Ramposa III, would be most interested in meeting you and thanking you himself."

"One never knows what the road ahead of them holds. Perhaps I will find myself in the capital one day."

Before Tiberius could inquire about this king, he was interrupted by the sudden arrival of the Warrior-Captain's subordinate.

"Sir, the men are ready," Garro saluted.

"Thank you, Vice-Captain. I will be with you shortly."

"Is something else the matter, Captain Stronoff?"

"I am glad to say no," Gazef chuckled lightly, "Since the enemy is no longer an issue, we will return to the battlefield and attend to our fallen brothers. After that, we will make camp for the night before we set out for the capital at first light."

"I see."

"And what of you, Sir Tiberius? Now that the danger has passed what will you and your companion do?"

With a rumbling sigh came an answer, "I think it's best that we are on our way."

"Are you sure? Traveling by night can be…" Gazef smirked and chuckled before shaking his head. "Forgive me, it seems I had forgotten just whom I was addressing. Is there any way I could convince you to delay your journey and join us? Your presence would be most welcome."

"I thank you for the offer. But no."

The bearded warrior shrugged lightly, "I guess it cannot be helped. Very well then, please seek me out when you reach the capital. My door will always be open to you."

With a sharp breath, the Warrior-Captain took a step back, his eyes fixed on the dragonoid and his Guardian confidant. A rush of determination surged through him as he straightened his posture, a gesture of respect and admiration. Without hesitation, Gazef executed a crisp salute, acknowledging the tremendous power before him.

In an impressive display of disciplined precision, Gazef pivoted on his heels and strode away, the confidence of a seasoned leader emanating from every step. He was eager to rejoin his subordinates, fueled by the newfound inspiration from encountering beings of such extraordinary prowess.

The foreign duo observed with keen interest as the soldiers rallied around their esteemed leader. Gazef's commanding presence inspired unity and determination among the troops. With the Warrior-Captain at the forefront, the regiment marched in perfect synchrony through the village, their footsteps echoing in the quiet night that lay ahead, embracing the serenity that followed their departure.

After such an eventful day on his first outing, the dragonoid felt the weariness settling in. It wasn't merely physical exhaustion, but more so a mental drain from the myriad experiences. Nevertheless, he eagerly yearned to return to Týrnaust once again.

Yet, having invested so much time and energy in looking after the village and its people, Tiberius couldn't bring himself to leave right away. He felt a sense of responsibility to conduct a final inspection, ensuring that everything was settled and secure before his departure.

With Yuliana by his side, Tiberius set out, treading along the well-known earthen paths of Carne Village. As they walked, the dragonoid took the opportunity to examine each house they passed.

Returning to the comfort of their homes, the villagers seemed to yearn for nothing more than a peaceful night's rest. The village exuded an uncanny ambiance; the houses were dark, no smoke rose from chimneys, and windows remained tightly shuttered. The absence of light sources or any signs of activity lent an unnerving air to the once lively settlement.

The possibility crossed Tiberius's mind that perhaps the residents had simply retired to bed.

However, the more plausible truth was that the villagers had, once again, sought refuge within the safety of their homes. Tiberius briefly pondered whether any of them had taken extra precautions, like barricading their doors for the night. After all, considering the recent events of the day, it would be a prudent choice.

Through the vacant streets and past the storehouse on the village outskirts, the two conducted their silent patrol. Fortunately, Carne's small size made the journey pleasantly short, and before long, they found themselves on the opposite side of the settlement.

As they reached the outskirts of the village, Tiberius seized the moment to pause, turning to the loyal Guardian Overseer standing faithfully by his side.

"This has been a long and troublesome day," the dragonoid lamented, "Yuliana, let's go home."

"Gladly, my lord."

There was a noticeably cheerful tone to the female Guardian's response.

Shifting, the duo looked away from the sleeping community as Tiberius prepared to cast a [Gate] spell for their return.

"Wait!" a feminine voice disrupted the tranquility of the evening.

Instantly the dragonoid froze. Relinquishing a heavy sigh, he slumped his shoulders and balefully lifted his gaze to the heavens above.

It was a gesture made in much the same sentiments as if he had asked the world, "Why me?"

Pivoting swiftly, he scanned the area to find the cause of the sudden disturbance. Even in the darkness of the night, his keen eyes easily spotted a teenage girl rapidly approaching.

Ascending the small hill with long, graceful strides, the girl's flowing blonde hair trailed behind her, and her energetic steps caused her bust to bounce with each movement. She held the front of her long skirt, lifting it to avoid hindering her quick pace.

Upon reaching the hilltop, the teen took a moment to catch her breath, her flushed cheeks and heaving chest a testament to her exertion.

Attention fixed on her, the dragonoid stood unmoving.

The girl must have run the entire way here without stopping. Well, either that or she's out of shape. But looking at her I very much doubt that.

Once she had gotten her breathing back under control, she straightened up and approached Tiberius for the third time that day.

"What do you want, girl?"

Yuliana's sharp tone must have been jarring to the teen as she flinched at the sound.

"I'm sorry…" she exhaled slowly, calmly, "It's just that I didn't properly thank you earlier."

Gripping the sides of her lengthy skirt, the girl performed a low curtsey before the two armoured individuals.

"You are welcome, Enri Emmot."

The fact that he remembered her name brought a smile to her face. Rising, Enri looked up at the inclined wolven-faced helmet. Its appearance was as she remembered it, the serenity seemingly to have once again returned.

"Uh, will you not stay the night? Traveling the roads at night is dangerous. Especially so close to the Forest of Tob. I am sure we could find lodgings for you two here in the village."

"It is kind of you to offer. However, we must be returning to our home."

"Oh…"

Enri's tone was soft. Her demeanour changed.

The teen hunched her shoulders, lowered her head, and fidgeted with her hands before her. It was as if the ground beneath her feet had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world.

The dragonoid studied the young woman carefully.

"That's not the real reason you came out here, is it?"

Tiberius' inquiry was gentle.

"No," Enri hesitated the moment before answering, "You saved the village today. More than that you saved my family. If you hadn't come… my father… my mother… even my sister and I…"

Overwhelmed by her emotions, her voice trembled and faltered under the weight of her sorrows.

"None of us would be here now if not for you. And if you leave us… What if more of them come tomorrow? Or the day after that? Or in any of the days following that? Can't you stay here with us for the time being?"

The sounds of the teenager's morose sobs were seemingly magnified in the quiet of the night.

"Take this."

Stifling her sobs, Enri lifted her head and gazed up with curiosity.

Her eyes brimming with tears, she gazed at the silver-armoured adventurer who stood in front of her. With astonishing swiftness and without making a sound, he had closed the gap between them. Now, he extended his arm with a roll of paper held within his gauntleted hand, capturing Enri's attention as her eyes followed the length of his arm.

"W-what is it?"

"It is a magic scroll," Tiberius edged his hand closer to the girl.

Timidly Enri extended her hand to take the offered roll of parchment as her own.

The scroll was rather small, measuring only six inches from end to end and an inch across. Its weathered appearance showed the typical yellowish-brown hue of aging paper. A red silk ribbon wrapped around the middle of the roll, secured by a seal of purple wax. However, the limited starlight made it difficult for her to discern the imprint on the wax seal.

"This particular scroll is enchanted with the [Message] spell. To use it you need only break the seal and recite the word [Message] while thinking of whom you wish to speak to. With this, you will be able to contact me anywhere I may be, and should you need me, I will come to your aid."

Had such a promise been said by just about anyone else, it would have felt hollow to the girl. Yet as she listened to the smooth baritone rumble of the adventurer's voice it felt anything but. Behind his words, the teenager could detect the resolve they held.

"While I am leaving, I will come back. And when I return, I will help to strengthen your village."

"Thank you," Enri's soft voice wavered with emotion, "Thank you."

The dragonoid nodded to the girl and turned away.

Enri stayed motionless, observing the adventurer as he took a few steps back and reunited with his companion. The word "[Gate]" escaped his lips, and the teenage girl found it peculiar. However, the purpose behind the word became evident with what followed.

Not far from the armoured duo, an ovoid portal materialized in the darkness of the night. Its core emanated an impenetrable darkness, standing out against the relatively dark evening sky. Along the edges of the portal, wisps of purple flame danced, yet despite being close to it, Enri could feel no heat.

Turning her attention away from the peculiar apparition, the teenager directed her focus to the two foreigners.

The duo engaged in a swift exchange of words before the companion wearing the elegant helmet turned and walked towards the gateway. She hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the other person. He gestured for her to proceed. And so, once more, she confronted the void, crossing the event horizon and disappearing.

Tiberius followed closely behind.

Confronting the expansive portal, he hesitated just like his companion did earlier. He turned back, swiveling his wolven helmet to give the teenage girl one last look. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, she stood there with her right hand waving goodbye while her left hand clutched the scroll to her chest. A soft smile adorned her face, leaving him uncertain whether it was a sad or happy expression.

Resolute, he turned forward again, mirroring the Guardian Overseer's actions, and stepped into the awaiting portal, vanishing from sight.

After its passengers had boarded, the gateway persisted for several more seconds.

Enri continued to wave her hand until the portal faded completely. Once it had disappeared, she lowered her arm and clasped her other hand tightly. Her attention now shifted to the scroll she held close to her chest. Blinking away a few lingering tears, Enri gazed up at the sparkling stars scattered across the sky.

In the tranquil atmosphere, memories from her youth flooded the teenager's mind. She reminisced about a time when she was no older than her little sister, and her father used to tell her bedtime stories.

Tales of heroic knights clad in shining armour who traversed the lands, righting wrongs, vanquishing evildoers, and rescuing fair maidens. Hearing her father weave these stories brought immense comfort and joy to her, just like Nemu. However, as she matured, the luster of those children's stories began to fade. Seeing the world through adult eyes tarnished them even further.

Over the passing years, she faced the harsh reality of life.

The stories were far from reality.

Good people often suffered undeserved misfortune, while wrongdoers frequently evaded justice, as they hid behind friendly facades. Fair maidens rarely found timely rescue from their torments and often endured reprehensible fates before any help arrived.

However, on this day, during the darkest of hours, a knight adorned in gleaming armour had appeared before them. A brave soul who delivered justice to the wrongdoers and rescued the village, just like the heroes in her childhood tales.

Perhaps those stories weren't mere fairytales after all. Maybe, just maybe, there was still some truth and hope to be found in them.

Yet, if that were true, it would imply that she was the fair maiden destined to be rescued by the knight in shining armour.

Enri could feel her face warming with a creeping blush, though her smile remained unwavering and even seemed to grow.

Casting one final wistful glance at the twinkling star-speckled sky, the blonde-haired teenager let out a sigh. Turning away from the spot where the two adventurers had departed, she began to retrace her steps.

Her stride carried her down the hillock, heading back home where, without a doubt, her mother, and probably her father too, awaited her return.

Enri was well aware that she would face an earful the moment she stepped foot into the house again. Yet, strangely, the thought of receiving a scolding from her mother, for reasons unknown to her, only served to widen Enri's smile even more.