The morning sky was no longer blue—it was drowned in smoke and ash, the air heavy with the stench of burning wood and flesh. The once-proud city lay in ruins, flames devouring entire rows of homes while the people screamed and scattered like frightened birds. Above it all, the undead dragon roared, its voice like thunder tearing through the heavens.
Reinhardt dashed across the broken streets, his emerald eyes locked on the abomination's towering frame. His lungs burned, his muscles screamed, yet his grip on the spear did not falter. He had discovered the beast's secret—the weakness buried within its skull. The sword fragment. If he could reach it, if he could tear it free, then perhaps the nightmare would end.
He raised his hand toward the heavens, his voice steady despite the chaos. "O earth, O water—become my weapon and strike down the unholy."
Three massive spears, forged from stone and liquid steel, materialized in the air above him. With a sharp motion, they launched forward, whistling through the smoke and slamming into the dragon's head. The impact shook the ground as a blast of dust and smoke engulfed the beast's face.
The dragon let out a furious roar. Its massive tail swung like a mountain-sized whip, carving through the air. Reinhardt's eyes narrowed. He had already predicted this move. With perfect timing, he rolled aside, the tail crashing into the ground where he had stood. The earth split, debris flying, smoke choking the streets.
The monster lifted its massive leg and stomped. The ground quaked violently, houses flattened under its sheer weight. Screams rose as soldiers and civilians were crushed beneath rubble. Reinhardt's jaw tightened. His spear hummed with mana.
"No more! Your prey is me!" he shouted, his voice carrying over the chaos.
He sprinted forward and leapt high, aiming for the dragon's head again—but the beast was waiting. Its wings snapped open with unnatural speed, a gust of wind scattering the smoke. Black miasma erupted from its throat, thicker and deadlier than before.
Reinhardt's eyes widened. Too close!
He covered his nose and mouth, but before he could retreat, the dragon's wing slammed into him mid-air. The strike hurled him across the street, and he landed hard, rolling over shattered stone. The miasma poured over him like a wave, searing his lungs, stinging his eyes until his vision blurred.
"Kh—ghh!" Reinhardt gagged, blood spraying from his mouth. His chest convulsed with every breath. His entire body screamed in agony. This poison… it wasn't ordinary. No spell he knew could cleanse it fast enough.
But he could not fall.
Not yet.
Not when Kael was still out there.
Reinhardt pressed a trembling hand to his chest and muttered a healing incantation. Faint light flickered across his body, dulling the pain but not purging the corruption. His knees buckled. His body begged him to collapse.
The dragon's hollow eyes gleamed as it lumbered closer, sensing his weakness. Its chest swelled, its mouth glowing with a crimson inferno ready to be unleashed.
Reinhardt grit his teeth, forcing himself upright. He planted his spear into the earth, gathering the last of his strength. "Not yet… I won't die here."
The dragon's maw snapped open. Flames surged outward, a torrent of destruction rushing straight for him.
Reinhardt inhaled sharply, then thrust his spear forward. Mana burst from the weapon, the blade glowing white-hot.
"Split!"
The inferno crashed upon him, but Reinhardt swung. His spear carved through the fire, parting it in two streams that roared past him, scorching the ground behind. The force nearly threw him backward, yet he held his ground. His figure, glowing within the blaze, became a beacon amidst the darkness.
The soldiers and citizens who had not yet fled froze in awe.
"That light…" one whispered.
"His hair… it's glowing—!" another gasped.
The flames reflected off Reinhardt's golden hair, setting it ablaze in brilliance. His emerald eyes gleamed with unyielding resolve. His robe, scorched and torn, revealed the figure beneath—the royal blood of Emestrild, the truth hidden behind titles and silence.
"Th-that's…!"
"The Emperor… the Hero…"
"He's protecting us!"
Murmurs spread, swelling into cries of hope. Where despair had taken root, faith bloomed again.
Reinhardt stood tall, his spear still pointed at the monster towering above him. Blood dripped from his lips, his body trembling with exhaustion, but he did not falter.
"Come then," he growled, voice carrying across the ruined city. "If you want destruction… you'll have to step over me first."
The dragon roared back, enraged, its firelight reflecting in the unbroken determination of the man who dared to defy it.
And the battle raged on.
For a fleeting moment, Reinhardt's vision cleared through the haze of smoke and fire. He saw them—the citizens, the soldiers, the wounded—staring at him with wide eyes, their despair briefly tempered with awe. It was only then that he realized his robe had been torn away in the battle, flames searing the cloth until nothing remained but his true figure beneath. His golden hair caught the firelight, and his emerald eyes burned with determination.
Their gazes pierced his soul, and Reinhardt's heart clenched. He had no time to hide. No time to deny who he was. For now, he could only stand as their shield.
The dragon, enraged by the glimmer of hope Reinhardt inspired, beat its massive wings. The gust was not mere wind this time—it twisted into a roaring vortex, a tornado swirling with fire as the beast exhaled flames into its heart. The funnel of fire consumed the city streets, sucking in debris, soldiers, even entire homes.
Reinhardt's eyes widened. A firestorm?!
The pull was immediate and overwhelming. Dust and ash blinded him as his boots scraped against the ruined cobblestone. The tornado dragged him backward like a cruel hand of fate. He forced his legs forward, spear carving sparks as it dug against the ground for leverage.
But the dragon was waiting.
With sickening speed, its clawed hand lashed out, seizing Reinhardt in its crushing grip. The impact rattled his bones, knocking the air from his lungs.
"Gh—hhaahh—!" Blood spilled from his lips as the pressure mounted. The beast's talons dug into him, the bones in his ribs groaning under the weight of its strength.
Reinhardt struggled, roaring in defiance as he drove his spear into the undead dragon's palm. The blade sank deep, black ichor oozing, but the grip only tightened. The spear cracked under the force of his desperate thrust, nearly slipping from his bloody hands.
All around him, the cries of the dying filled the air. Soldiers were hurled into the swirling tornado, their bodies vanishing in the storm. Buildings crumbled, wooden beams and stone walls ripped apart as if made of paper. Half the city was already gone.
Reinhardt's head spun, his chest screamed in pain. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to another battlefield—long ago.
Back then, he had not stood alone.
A boy with black hair and crimson-gold eyes had fought at his side. The true hero. The one who had slain this beast once before.
Kael…
Another cough tore through his throat, blood splattering against the dragon's scales. His body screamed that this was the end. That he could not escape this time. That he could not win.
Yet even as the claws crushed tighter, even as the world dimmed, Reinhardt refused to yield.
His spear slipped from his grip, falling to the ruined ground below with a clatter. For an instant, silence settled in his heart. The dragon pulled him closer, as if savoring the kill, hollow eyes glowing with mockery.
And then Reinhardt laughed.
It was a harsh, broken sound, bubbling with blood, yet it echoed defiantly through the storm. His shoulders shook with the effort, his chest burning with each ragged breath.
The beast tilted its head, confused by the sound of its prey's mirth.
Reinhardt's emerald eyes blazed.
His lips curled into a bloodied smile.
"Kael… was the one who slew you." His voice cracked but carried like steel. "He was the Hero… the true Hero. And me?"
He pressed his palms together, blood dripping between his fingers as mana surged to his call. Light swirled, coalescing into form, brighter and fiercer than before.
His laugh, ragged and fearless, rang again.
"I… am the one who will destroy you!"
A new weapon shimmered into being, forged from his will and blood—its radiance cutting through the storm.
The dragon roared, but for the first time, it hesitated.
And Reinhardt's eyes, though dim with exhaustion, gleamed with unyielding defiance.
From the storm of mana swirling in his palms, a sword took shape—its form radiant, forged of light and blood. Reinhardt's trembling hands gripped it with reverence, his stance low and broken yet unyielding.
The dragon's hollow eyes narrowed, but before it could react, Reinhardt raised the blade high and slashed downward.
A blinding arc of light split the air. The weapon cut clean through the beast's arm.
A thunderous roar shook the heavens as the dragon staggered back, its severed limb crumbling into splintered bone and rotten flesh. The shockwave from its scream sent rubble scattering, and the ground cracked beneath its colossal weight.
But the blade did not last.
The glowing sword flickered, fractured like glass, and dissolved into mist between Reinhardt's fingers. The glow vanished as swiftly as it had come, leaving only the raw pain in his body.
Reinhardt's knees buckled. He hit the ground hard, groaning as every breath stabbed him from within. His ribs grated against each other; shards of bone carved into muscle with every movement.
"Kh—haaah—" His vision blurred. Still, he forced his head up, eyes burning with stubborn defiance.
The city lay in ruin. Fire consumed the streets, smoke choked the skies, and broken walls crumbled into ash. Citizens lay unmoving, soldiers scattered like discarded dolls. Not a single ally stood.
Only me…
The dragon bellowed in fury, its massive frame shaking the earth as it stamped down. Dust and rubble rained around him. Yet Reinhardt's lips twisted into a weak, mocking grin.
"Hah… How is it? Does it hurt?" His voice was a rasp, but it cut through the silence. He lay sprawled on the shattered stone, blood pooling beneath him, yet his gaze never wavered. He stared into the dragon's hollow sockets, daring it to feel pain.
The beast glanced at its missing arm—only to find the flesh around the wound turning black, decaying under the remnants of Reinhardt's strike.
Its roar shook the heavens again, this time not in victory, but in rage. With a guttural growl, the dragon ripped apart its own decaying limb, tearing it free before the rot could spread further. Bone crunched, sinew snapped. The beast flung the ruined arm aside like discarded prey.
Reinhardt's eyes widened, his smirk faltering. Then, from his battered lips, came a broken laugh—half despair, half awe.
"Ha… haa… so you can even… do that?" More blood spilled, staining his teeth. His lungs burned, his body convulsed with every cough.
The dragon turned toward him, its massive form blotting out the sky. The ground trembled under its steps, every stride a death knell.
Reinhardt tried to move, but his body betrayed him. His limbs refused to obey. His vision spun as blood loss dragged him toward unconsciousness.
The dragon's tail lashed, smashing debris aside. Then, with terrifying swiftness, its leg swung out—its clawed foot crashing into Reinhardt's body.
The impact hurled him across the battlefield. Stone walls shattered under his weight, burying him in rubble.
"Ghh—!" Blood burst from his mouth as jagged stone dug into his flesh. His body screamed in agony, but still—he breathed. Somehow, still alive.
Through the haze of dust, Reinhardt clawed his way up from the debris. His once-pristine armor was shattered, his golden hair matted with blood, his spear long lost. He could not stand, but he could still lift his head.
The tornado of fire had vanished, leaving silence broken only by the dragon's heavy steps. Reinhardt's only hope was that his strike had done more damage than the beast revealed.
But then his eyes caught movement—and his hope died.
The wound had sealed. The dragon's shoulder, though scarred, was no longer rotting. The beast was whole once more.
Reinhardt's emerald eyes dimmed, his lips trembling into a bitter smile. "So… even that wasn't enough." His voice was no louder than a whisper.
The dragon loomed closer, shadows swallowing him. Its maw opened, black smoke spilling forth like a promise of death.
And then, through the haze of ruin, Reinhardt saw him.
A lone figure in a dark robe, walking with slow, steady steps. In his hand, wrapped tightly, was a broken sword—its jagged edge glinting faintly even in the smoke.
Reinhardt's heart seized. He knew that sword. He knew to whom it belonged.
The robed man lifted his head, and crimson-gold eyes burned through the veil of smoke. Eyes Reinhardt could never be mistaken.
Kael.
Reinhardt's breath caught, tears mixing with blood as he smiled faintly, trembling. He shook his head, voice breaking as he forced the words out.
"No… don't come here, Kael…"