The final battle between the Ancient Dragons ultimately devolved into a close-quarters brawl.
If Senessax got back on her feet first, she could gather herself and turn on Florissax.
If Florissax climbed onto Senessax's head first, Senessax would have no choice but to bare her neck for the killing blow and watch her own head burst apart like the stones scattered across the ground.
Florissax's advance was not easy either. The innate power of an Ancient Dragon had turned her into a humanoid monster, but the ferocious battle and that final strike had still drained her strength.
She could squeeze nothing more from her body. She and Senessax had come to this mountain as equals. It was the human form she had acquired later that had made her incomplete.
Becoming human was a path only Priestesses would choose. Proud Ancient Dragons had no reason to reduce themselves to tiny humans.
Senessax thrashed with all her might, trying to fling Florissax off, grinding the rocks beneath her into dust with her even harder dragon Scale Armor.
Florissax drove the hooked petals of the Flowerstone Gavel into the Ancient Dragon's body, embedding them in its rock-like Scale Armor, and clung tightly to the handle as she pressed herself against its chest.
In this situation, Senessax had the advantage. Although her body was already covered in wounds, her powerful dragon body left her in far better condition than Florissax.
The enormous claw finally slammed down on the trembling earth, pinning Florissax beneath it, but the Ancient Dragon's forepaw no longer had enough strength behind it.
Senessax watched the small dragon Priestess open her mouth. Once those sharp teeth bit down and snapped shut, the Ancient Dragon would be able to tear Florissax's entire body to pieces.
The outcome was about to be decided. A flash of anger finally crossed Florissax's eyes, like a flame burning briefly but fiercely.
Her gaze met the massive dragon head's, and the Ancient Dragon's pupils reflected her battered yet defiant figure.
But the anger lasted only an instant. Another earth-shaking roar erupted from deep in her throat, as if she meant to pour out all her pain and resentment at once.
Her arm, the only arm she could still move, gripped the Flowerstone Gavel tightly. With the last of her strength, she hurled it viciously at the Ancient Dragon's head.
Her Scale Armor had long since shattered, blood seeping from the cracks, while her body was locked down by the Ancient Dragon's strength.
She knew this strike might not change the outcome, but she still refused to give up.
That was the kind of dragon she was, stubborn almost to the point of absurdity.
Senessax had mocked her foolishness and stubbornness countless times. Even so, she had never wavered.
Florissax had lost all hope of fighting back. The bones throughout her body were being crushed one by one, yet in that final moment, she still stubbornly lifted her head and looked toward the flying Flowerstone Gavel.
The Flowerstone Gavel traced an arc through the air, carrying her last hope with it, and slammed heavily into the Ancient Dragon's head.
Sparks scattered everywhere, like fireworks blooming in the night sky, brilliant but fleeting.
But once it had left Florissax's control, the Flowerstone Gavel was, in the end, only a rather heavy dragonstone weapon.
It failed to shatter the Ancient Dragon's skull. Instead, it bounced away from the impact and shot into the pitch-black night sky, vanishing into the endless Darkness.
Florissax's body finally sagged limply. Her vision gradually blurred, and only the wind and the Ancient Dragon's low growl remained in her ears.
"Is it finally time to let go?" Florissax asked herself. This time, however, she already had the answer.
The Ancient Dragon named Florissax had never once let go of her mission, not since she became a Priestess many years ago, when Farum Azula fell from the sky.
Yes. It was time to let go.
Her whole life had been lived for that mission, for the purpose bestowed upon her by the Lord.
She had witnessed countless battles and endured countless sacrifices, all so she could see the fall of the Mad Dragon with her own eyes.
The price of it all had been her freedom, her soul, and even her life.
There were always people who lived this way, as if carrying an invisible mountain on their backs, walking forward one step at a time.
They bore things that could neither be seen nor touched, carved them into their hearts, and made them an inescapable fate in their lives.
A life spent clinging to things unseen and intangible was truly exhausting.
Now she could finally let go. Let go of her mission, let go of her burden, let go of all those things that could neither be seen nor touched.
Because she was about to die.
"Will the glory of the Lord and the gods walk with me?" she asked the sky.
Florissax felt her existence slowly being erased from this world.
She felt a lightness unlike anything she had ever known, as if the mountain weighing on her had been lifted away. Her soul seemed to begin drifting apart, like morning mist dissolving beneath the sun.
"I see it. That glory is dazzling indeed!" a voice answered her from the Darkness.
A pair of dragon wings vast enough to blot out the sky unfurled at the edge of the heavens, a pair of silver-white, beautiful, flawless dragon wings.
They were like silk woven from moonlight, drawing an elegant arc across the night sky.
Florissax stared at those silver-white dragon wings. They grew blurrier and blurrier in her sight, yet also more and more radiant.
The Silver Flying Dragon beat its wings in the air, spreading them like battle flags in the wind, carrying a majesty and beauty that felt only natural.
The instant its dragon roar rang out, the Flying Dragons could not help trembling all over. That heavy roar blasted the smoke of battle apart.
This white Dragonlord, who had never appeared before, was now spreading out a slender, powerful, beautiful Flying Dragon body that was not at all savage.
It dove down. The instant its wings beat, it vanished from everyone's sight. Its fangs pierced the Ancient Dragon's neck and crushed the entire head in an instant.
The Flying Dragon's teeth tore through the Ancient Dragon's Scale Armor, and the flesh of its neck split apart at a visible speed.
The fangs in its mouth came from Bayle, who had been devoured completely. Those sharp "tooth-blades" were born to drink blood and rend flesh.
Scarlet blood surged from the severed neck like a collapsed floodgate, forming a ghastly fountain of blood in the air.
Blood sprayed everywhere, like a bloody, brutal rain pouring down.
Florissax collapsed to the ground. Beneath the powerless dragon claw, she finally gained a moment to breathe. The pure white figure stood atop the Ancient Dragon's corpse and looked down at her.
"But now is not the time for last words," the figure said with a smile.
What he gave Florissax in answer was "life," the opposite of "death." The Lord bestowed "life" upon this Ancient Dragon once more.
Nolan Bethel, the white human Lord, had arrived at the final moment, bearing the majesty and power of the Flying Dragon Lord.
He had shed his metal armor and put on Scale Armor like stone, transforming into a dragon body like a mountain range.
The pair of enormous wings on his back slowly spread open, like a vast, flawless white curtain that covered half the sky.
Compared with Bayle, Nolan might not have seemed especially huge or burly.
Yet as he stood upon the heights and looked down at the subjects kneeling before him, his bearing was like that of a supreme emperor seated upon his throne, receiving their worship.
He looked down at the kneeling subjects below, his gaze calm as still water, yet deep as a bottomless abyss.
But with only a sweep of that gaze, the dragon flock seemed to stop breathing as if drowning, sinking into a suffocating deathly silence.
In that instant, even Florissax was suppressed by his majesty. At that moment, Florissax understood clearly that she was only a Priestess, while Nolan was the Lord.
"Has Your Majesty cleansed Bayle's sins?" Florissax asked with every last bit of strength she had.
Nolan gave a slight nod and spat the Ancient Dragon's head from his mouth. He had not come here to flaunt a Lord's authority.
At some point, two more pairs of dragon wings and a pair of forelimbs had appeared on the white Flying Dragon, and his Scale Armor looked as if it had been coated in a layer of white frost.