Chapter 784: [The Rewritten Lost Past] [24]

-BOOOOOM!!!

Vysindra unleashed another devastating torrent of purple fire upon the battlefield below.

The stream tore into the earth with such monstrous force that the ground itself split and rose in jagged chunks before being swallowed by the flames. In the next instant, everything caught beneath the blast was reduced to ash. Men, armor, flesh, blood-creatures, none of it lasted long against the dragon’s scorching breath.

Amael held tightly to one of Vysindra’s protruding horns, his expression hard and dark as he stared over the burning plains.

"I’m sorry for dragging you into this, my friend," he said.

"Don’t worry about it," Vysindra replied, his voice rumbling. "You can call me anytime you need help dealing with Merithra’s creations."

Amael nearly laughed despite everything.

"Why do you hate her that much?" He asked.

"Because she creates things and never takes responsibility for them," Vysindra said with a snort. "Dragons, vampires, witches, she brings them into existence, then leaves them to fend for themselves while the rest of us deal with the consequences."

Amael patted the dragon’s horn lightly.

"Vysindra... you have some serious mother issues."

"Do you want me to throw you off?!"

A laugh escaped Amael.

"Alright, alright. I’m sorry."

Then Vysindra spoke again.

"Where is your mother, anyway?"

Amael’s faint smile disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"I don’t know," he said, scanning the battlefield below. A falcon remained perched on his shoulder, sharp-eyed and restless. "But she’s here. I can feel her presence. She’s somewhere around."

His eyes were specifically looking at the Tree with unease however.

Behind him, Lisandra and Sylvia stood frozen, their faces drained of color as they looked down at the horror unfolding beneath them.

Neither of them had expected this.

The Second Great Holy War suddenly felt almost merciful in comparison. That conflict had been brutal enough, full of death, grief, and devastation but this...

This was something else.

The sky above Valachia was soaked in dark red, as though the heavens themselves had been stained with fresh blood. The moon hung overhead in its eerie crimson phase, casting a dreadful hue across the battlefield that made everything below look even more unreal. And the creatures summoned by the Witch were worse than nightmares. Twisted bodies of blood and flesh rampaged through the Resistance lines, devouring people alive. Some had grotesque mouths opening in their stomachs, jagged and gaping, swallowing screaming knights whole while others tore bodies apart in fountains of red.

Lisandra stared in horror.

"What... is happening here?" She muttered.

"The Blood Moon War," Amael said.

This was exactly why he had wanted nothing to do with this cursed conflict. He had stayed away for a reason, refused to become entangled in it. And now, despite all of that, he had been dragged right into its heart.

His gaze shifted in the distance.

Far off, he caught sight of a figure watching from above the battlefield.

"Athena...?"

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Then Sylvia’s voice cut through the air.

"Something’s coming!"

At once, everyone’s attention snapped forward.

Amael’s eyes widened.

A red glow was slicing through the sky toward them at terrifying speed, like a spear of blood hurled through the heavens. The shape moved so fast it was almost impossible to follow, a swirling mass of crimson twisting tighter and tighter as it closed the distance.

Danger slammed into his instincts instantly.

"Vysindra!!"

The dragon reacted without hesitation.

He slowed sharply in midair, opened his jaws wide, and unleashed another enormous torrent of purple fire straight at the incoming figure.

-BOOOOOOOM!!!

The collision sent a tremendous heatwave exploding outward.

Amael, Lisandra, and Sylvia all threw their arms up before their faces, shielding themselves from the blast as the air around them turned scorching hot. The shock of it rippled through Vysindra’s body.

But Amael forced himself to look.

Through the roaring flames, he saw movement.

Something was pushing through the fire.

A silhouette advanced inside the torrent itself, shielded by a writhing mass of black blood that twisted around it like armor.

Amael’s breath caught.

"Vysindra—!!"

-BAM!!

Something flashed forward at lightning speed.

A violent strike smashed into Vysindra’s jaw and sent the enormous dragon hurtling backward through the sky as though he weighed nothing at all.

All three of them clung to him as the world lurched around them. Vysindra twisted midair, wings beating hard until he finally steadied himself, but Amael’s eyes widened in shock when he looked at the dragon’s face.

Several scales along his cheek had cracked.

For something to damage Vysindra so easily...

A cold feminine voice echoed through the air.

"What is a dragon doing here?"

They lifted their heads.

Ahead of them floated a woman of terrifying beauty.

Her long black-purple hair streamed behind her like dark silk in the wind, and her crimson eyes gleamed with a cruel, almost amused intelligence. She wore a black gown that moved around her like living shadow, and in her right hand she held a rapier wrapped in swirling black blood. The blade glowed faintly, pulsing with mana so dense and malignant that it made the air around it feel tremble.

Lisandra and Sylvia stiffened at once.

Even without being told, they could feel what she was.

A demigod.

Amael stared at her.

"The Vampire Witch..." He muttered.

Selene tilted her head slightly as her gaze settled on him.

Then her lips curled into a smile.

"I’ve always wanted a dragon for a pet."

Vysindra’s entire presence changed at once, the last trace of humor gone from his voice.

"Go find your mother, Mael."

Amael glanced at him.

"You sure about this, Vysindra?"

The dragon let out a low snort, a flicker of purple fire slipping from between his teeth.

"Who do you take me for?"

Amael smiled faintly at that.

Then he nodded.

"We’re leaving," he said, turning to Lisandra and Sylvia.

Both of them looked worried, more worried than they wanted to admit but they obeyed. As Amael leapt from Vysindra’s back, they followed without hesitation, dropping with him through the open air.

Ahead of them, Selene’s red gaze shifted downward.

She raised her rapier.

Instantly, a vast blood circle formed beneath her, opening in a flash with ten immense layered rings, each one inscribed with dark glowing marks. The amount of power gathering there was oppressive.

She was about to strike.

But before the spell could be released, Selene’s expression changed.

Her head turned sharply.

She thrust up her left hand just as another torrent of purple fire came crashing toward her.

Black blood surged up in front of her and blocked the flames, twisting into a dense shield that absorbed the blast. But the fire had only been a distraction.

Something cut through the smoke.

Something fast.

Too fast.

-SPURT!

Selene’s eyes widened.

Her body slipped backward through the air, and a moment later her left arm spun away from her, torn clean off.

Blood spilled from the severed shoulder, dripping into the burning sky below.

But instead of rage or shock, her smile only widened.

"You are fast for a dragon," she said.

Through the curtain of purple fire and rolling smoke, something began to move.

At first, Selene could only make out a shape within the blaze, a force twisting around the dragon’s massive form like a living current. The flames swirled tighter and tighter around him, folding inward as though drawn by an invisible hand. His vast silhouette began to shrink, the draconic body condensing with eerie fluidity until it became smaller, narrower, and more defined.

Then, with one sharp sweep through the air, the smoke and fire were blown apart.

What emerged was no longer a dragon.

A tall man now hovered in the sky where the beast had been.

His black hair fell long around him, dark as night, and from his head rose two magnificent horns, purplish-black in color, curling with regal shapes. His eyes were a shade amber gold, their vertical slits pulsed faintly, but unlike Selene’s, there was something colder in them, something older and calmer instead.

Along his arms and the side of his neck, purple markings stretched like living symbols, though much of them disappeared beneath the black coat draped over his form. They looked less like ornament and more like power made visible, something etched into him by nature itself.

His gaze settled on Selene.

Calm and indifferent.

"The Vampire Witch," he said.

Selene’s crimson eyes narrowed with amusement.

"The Dragon King."

Of course she knew him. A creature like her, who had lived for centuries would never fail to recognize a being like Vysindra.

"Both of us born from Merithra’s whim," Vysindra said.

Selene let out a chuckle and slowly spread her arms.

At once, black and crimson blood erupted around her, swirling in spirals that twisted through the air like living serpents. The energy around her thickened and strengthened, eager for blood.

"I was born to reduce Sancta Vedelia to ashes," she said, her smile turning colder. "And then... I will wait my darling bathing in their blood."

As she spoke, blood spurted from the stump of her severed arm. Flesh, veins, and bone rapidly rewove themselves before their eyes, and within seconds her left arm had fully regenerated, perfect and whole once more.

Vysindra watched the process without surprise.

"Your darling, huh?" He said.

Then his expression hardened ever so slightly.

"I pity him."

He extended one hand.

A weapon materialized instantly within his grasp.

It resembled a lance, but only in the broadest sense. Its form was longer, forged with a deadlier elegance than any ordinary spear. Purple horn-like protrusions curved from its frame, humming faintly with power, while ancient symbols glowed along its shaft. The weapon seemed alive in his hand writhing and glowing.

For a heartbeat, the sky fell silent.

No wind.

No sound.

Then they both vanished.

-BOOOOOOOM!!!