Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods-Chapter 171: Act II, Scene V: The Sacred Rise

Kardrax stared at his hands. They trembled, ever so slightly. Not from fear. Not from exhaustion. Something deeper. A resonance, brief, strange, like a ripple in blood that wasn’t his.

"What was that?" he muttered.

But he didn’t have time to think.

Akedios moved.

Threads of black curled outward, twisting from his hand like lazy vines, reaching for Kardrax’s body.

Kardrax’s fingers twitched. Crimson beams snapped from his fingertips, cutting through the threads. They shattered in the air, crumbling into glowing ash.

Akedios sighed.

"Losing focus already? That’s not like you."

Kardrax flexed his hand.

"Patience, priest. I’ve got time for every ant in line."

Kardrax stared at his hands. They trembled, ever so slightly. Not from fear. Not from exhaustion. Something deeper. A resonance, brief, strange, like a ripple in blood that wasn’t his.

"What was that?" he muttered.

But he didn’t have time to think.

Akedios moved.

Threads of black curled outward, twisting from his hand like lazy vines, reaching for Kardrax’s body.

Kardrax’s fingers twitched. Crimson beams snapped from his fingertips, cutting through the threads. They shattered in the air, crumbling into glowing ash.

Akedios sighed."Losing focus already? That’s not like you."

Kardrax flexed his hand."Patience, priest. I’ve got time for every ant in line."

Akedios raised both hands. Thin, invisible threads appeared in the air, silent and deadly. They twisted and danced toward Kardrax, meant to wrap around his limbs and snap his bones like twigs.

But before they reached him, red beams cut through the space between them.

One by one, the threads vanished.

Akedios didn’t show surprise, but his frown deepened. He had sent many threads at once, from all sides. Kardrax wasn’t swinging wildly or blasting everything.

He was sniping each thread directly, like he could see them all and knew exactly where to aim.

"How is he doing this?" Akedios thought.

Kardrax grinned, his sharp teeth showing.

"So I was right about you. You’ve only got one move."

Akedios changed his approach. If the ground wasn’t working, he’d come from above.

He lifted both arms high, and the sky shifted. Threads appeared overhead, like silver lines drawn across the clouds. Then, they fell. Dozens, hundreds, straight down, like deadly rain.

Still, Kardrax didn’t look worried.

He smiled wider. A real, wicked smile.

Then, without warning, a flash of red.

Akedios felt something shift behind him. He turned just in time to see Kardrax sliding across the ground, just behind his back.

The threads fell, cut before they could land.

Before he could process what had just happened, Akedios felt something else.

He staggered. His balance broke for a moment. He straightened quickly, but something was wrong. He brought one hand to his side, just under his right arm.

Wet.

Hot.

He looked down and saw it: a round, burning hole just beneath his armpit. The skin around it was red and starting to blister. It throbbed with a deep ache that was growing worse by the second.

Then came the pain.

It was sharp at first, but then it spread. It felt like fire running through his nerves. Like thin, burning wires were twisting inside his arm. The muscle locked up. His fingers curled. His shoulder felt like it was being crushed from the inside.

The pain wasn’t just bad. It was vicious.

It was the kind of pain that made it hard to think.

Akedios breathed through his teeth. Calm still showed on his face, but his body was shaking slightly.

Kardrax stood a few steps behind him, his smile calm, eyes glowing red.

"Forgive me for the target," he said, voice low and pleased. "But I was curious if you could feel pain like a human."

Akedios didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He clenched his teeth and glared at Kardrax.

Kardrax let out a quiet laugh.

"Ah... there it is. A real reaction. You’re finally showing some emotion."

In the meantime, Maël and Lyraen were trapped in a strange, endless maze.

All around them were mirrors, walls made of smooth glass that reflected everything, but not quite right. The reflections stretched too long or had too many eyes or no faces at all.

The ground looked like still water, shiny and smooth, but it held firm under their feet.

There was no ceiling above them, only endless black. It felt like they were floating in a space made of shadows and broken glass. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

Now and then, a soft flash lit up inside the mirrors. It disappeared before they could see where it came from. The light wasn’t bright. Just enough to make their twisted reflections flicker.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Like the world was holding its breath.

Maël walked ahead.

"I felt something," he said. "Back there. Like a thread snapped inside me."

Lyraen followed a few steps behind, tense.

"You think it’s a demon?"

"Maybe." Maël glanced over his shoulder. "Might be nothing. Or everything."

Lyraen frowned.

"We should just focus on getting out. This place is... scary."

Around them, the maze shimmered. The walls didn’t move, but something about them did.

They bent the light just enough to twist their reflections, their bodies stretched too tall, heads misshapen, eyes missing. Maël looked like a shadow of himself. Lyraen’s reflection had too many fingers.

But then, a mirror ahead showed her perfectly.

Her face was perfect, her hair was right in place, and her eyes were clear. There was no distortion this time.

She stopped.

Maël kept walking.

Lyraen blinked at the image, drawn in. She tilted her head left, then right. The reflection matched her exactly.

That’s when she heard it. A soft footstep behind her.

She turned, but saw nothing.

"Maël?" she called, a little louder.

He didn’t hear her.

Fearing that she might be alone, she took a step back.

Then, a cold hand clamped over her mouth and chest and yanked her into the mirror.

She vanished without a sound.

Maël turned another corner, still oblivious.

"Stop daydreaming, Granny," he said nonchalantly. "You’re slowing us."

Footsteps echoed behind him.

"I’m here," Lyraen said calmly as she caught up to him.

Maël glanced at her briefly, then looked ahead again. They walked in silence for a few steps.

Then Lyraen spoke again.

"Maël," she said softly, "how far do your powers go? Could you get us out of here if you really wanted?"

He glanced sideways.

"Are you doubting me now?"

"Not at all," she smiled. "I know you’re strong. Stronger than Aurus, even. Stronger than anyone."

Maël raised an eyebrow.

"Stop with the flattering, I hate being compared to my old man. And since when have you been so nice to me?"

She leaned a little closer.

"I’m just tired. And maybe I finally realized how lucky I am to have a brave, handsome hero watching over me."

He snorted.

"Right. And I’m the queen of Lethra."

Her voice dropped, smooth and sweet.

"You’re sharp. Powerful. I bet you could take care of anything... even me."

She stepped even closer, her breath warm against his skin. Slowly and gently, her fingers brushed his sleeve.

"You’ve been amazing so far," she said. "Really, I think I’ve been underestimating you."

Further behind, far out of his sight, the real Lyraen slammed her hands against a smooth mirror wall.

The glass didn’t crack or move, only reflected her panic back at her like a cruel joke. Her breath fogged up the surface as she gasped.

"Maël! That’s not me! I’m here! Look at me! Please!"

She struck it again, harder. Nothing. The wall didn’t shake. The sound didn’t carry.

She stepped back, spinning around. But there was no exit. Just more mirrors. No ceiling, no floor, just endless glass and dark reflections. Her chest rose and fell in a fast rhythm.

"What? How? W... What’s going on?!" she whispered to herself. "It’s a demon. That thing out there... He’s with a demon."

Her hands shook. Her fists clenched.

"I have to reach him... I have to warn him... Maël, please!"

But Maël didn’t turn around.

The fake Lyraen leaned in even more, her cheek nearly brushing his.

"You’re not just strong," she whispered. "You’re the kind of man who makes the world tremble. You don’t need anyone, do you? Just someone who understands you."

Maël smiled faintly, then something flickered in his eyes. He stopped walking.

"You almost had me," he said calmly, but with a hint of amusement. "Really."

The fake Lyraen tilted her head, confused.

"But you overplayed it," Maël continued. "Granny doesn’t flirt. She talks a lot, complains, and calls me an idiot. She’s a grumpy old soul."

He turned toward her fully, his eyes glowing faintly.

"And she knows I like them younger."

Then Maël raised one hand and snapped his fingers.

A burst of red light exploded from him in a sharp wave.

The mirror beside them shattered like thin ice. The fake Lyraen let out a high-pitched scream as her body melted into red smoke.

The mirror behind her cracked down the middle. Every mirror nearby followed, cracking and falling apart, one after another.

When the light faded, Maël stood alone again.

Silence.

Then a new voice rose.

It was smooth, pleased laugh.

"Well done, boy. You saw through me."

Maël didn’t move.

"Didn’t take much. Your act was terrible. But that aside, you just dissolved. How are you still alive?"

The voice laughed softly.

"Hm? Don’t you like mystery? You’re very sharp. So confident... But soft-hearted. I like that. I wonder how long you’ll stay that way. People like you break in the most beautiful ways."

The mirrors all around began to hum. One of them lit up.

Lyraen’s face showed up in the glass. But her eyes were wrong, too deep, too empty.

"Souls pulled from their bodies," the voice said. "Trapped in this maze. They scream and scream until even the ones who love them forget how they sounded."

Maël stayed calm.

"Trying to scare me?"

"I wouldn’t dare," the fake answered, smiling.

"I am Flaga. Third Seat of the Crimson Bloom. And you, Maël... you’ve caught my eye."