A rising tide of vital force kept condensing inside the obsidian obelisk, growing more powerful and purer by the second. Ouroborus and Jormungandr observed this spectacle with solemn gazes, exchanging a silent nod.
Neither wanted to risk any chance that their forces would be caught in a catastrophic backlash. With a quick signal, they directed the rest of the army to withdraw, forming a tight periter around the massive black spire. Hope flitted through the Sky Seed Depravitas’ minds that everything would resolve peacefully, but they also knew too well that a miracle could crumble into disaster at a mont’s notice. Caution demanded they be prepared for the worst.
Overlord, standing nearby, shared their vigilance. He understood that no prediction was ever flawless, however carefully calculated. So, sword in hand, he joined Ouroborus and Jormgundr high in the sky. If so monstrous eruption arose from the obelisk, he would be ready to fight.
On the ground below, Freya remained at the head of the human army. The surge of Origin Force obtained from the death of the Leviathan King had hastened her recovery enough that she could stand and fight once more, though she was still far from fully healed. The pain in her chest lingered, but she held herself tall, determined to do her part if disaster ca.
Near Freya stood Grand Marshal Anglius, his eyes sharp and weapon ready. King Viserin, Major General Theodor, and a host of generals and commanders were positioning soldiers around the periter. Their weapons bristled with newly infused Force, and their magics stood ready to combine into a myriad of destructive spells at an instant’s notice. No one uttered so much as a word. A haunting silence blanketed the entire scene, each soldier’s eyes locked on the obsidian obelisk, waiting to see what might erge from that silent monolith.
Hours ticked by in an oppressive hush. The black spire glowed with ever-increasing intensity, each flicker of radiance pushing back the darkness of night until it appeared like midday. At last, the radiance began to fade. Tension tightened in every breath, hearts pounding with wary anticipation.
It was at that mont the massive "maw" of the obelisk seed to open, and a wave of overwhelming heat washed over the human forces. It felt like the gates of an inferno had swung wide, and from that scorching portal, a colossal humanoid draconic figure erged.
The creature was a towering inferno of terror and majesty, his muscular form radiating raw, fiery power. Dark obsidian scales, jagged and ominous, cloaked his body, each fissure within them glowing with molten lava that coursed beneath the black shell. His massive wings, ablaze with fire, dripped streams of liquid fla, dominating the sky above. A pair of curled horns crowned its head, framing eyes that burned like molten suns. Claws and fangs glinted razor-sharp, and droplets of black blood sizzled wherever they fell upon the charred earth.
Standing at a daunting forty ters tall, this draconic entity advanced on two legs, flas erupting under every footstep. The dragon’s tail lashed behind him, crackling with destructive energy that marred the ground beneath.
Jormgundr and Ouroborus wore grim expressions, instantly recognizing that this new presence overshadowed even the Leviathan King that had nearly driven them to despair. The Leviathan King’s might have been devastating. Yet this draconic being exuded an even greater aura of raw, unfathomable power.
Spells and destructive energies sparked around the Sky Seed Depravitas as they braced themselves for a potential fight. Overlord, ready with his sword, remained close while the human army tightened their formation. But then, to everyone’s surprise, the massive fire dragon halted its approach a hundred ters away, standing still as though waiting. The air humd with tension. All it would take was a single misstep—one spark—and the entire battlefield would erupt in chaos.
In that breathless mont, a voice echoed forth.
"Hahahah, relax. Everything is fine."
The simple reassurance shattered the tense silence, yet it ignited fresh confusion. Jormgundr, Ouroborus, and Freya trembled at the sound, for they recognized it imdiately. Their eyes snapped upward to focus on the dragon’s broad head, and there, wreathed in crowning fla, they saw him.
Vlad stood at the crown of the draconic form, fire swirling around him without causing the slightest harm, and a wide smile stretched across his face as he gazed down at the three.
"I am back!" he proclaid, voice ringing with life, allowing the entire human force to hear.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Disbelief etched itself onto countless faces. Then the truth registered, bringing a thrill of utter joy crashing through the human lines. Their Xaos King had returned!
Yet, as delirious relief surged in the soldiers, they also hesitated. The appearance of the colossal fire dragon overshadowing the horizon was as perplexing.
One person did not hesitate. Unable to restrain her excitent any longer, she blurred forward in a burst of speed, leaping onto one of the dragon’s massive legs. She clambered upward as though scaling a rocky cliff face, grabbing hold of thick obsidian scales. The draconic entity did not flinch, simply remaining still and letting her climb. Every soldier watched in dumbfounded shock at the Viking princess’s audacity.
For her part, Freya seed too overwheld with elation to realize the absurdity of her feat. She reached the top, drew close to Vlad, and threw her arms around him in a fierce embrace. The Depravita of Wrath, blinking in surprise at first, soon returned the hug, feeling the trembling in her shoulders. She held him with all her strength, as if afraid he might vanish again.
Vlad’s expression softened. A kind, tender smile lit his face. At that mont, neither of them uttered a word; the sheer relief of reunion spoke volus. Only after nearly a minute of silent embrace did they separate, eyes shimring with unvoiced emotion. They had much to discuss, to share, and to unravel, but this wasn’t the ti. Vlad offered a gentle nod to the Viking princess before turning his attention to the silent, watchful army.
Surveying the scene from atop the dragon’s head, he saw exhaustion etched on every face. Tens of thousands had perished in the war; countless souls had left this world. The rest were battered, drained of strength, yet had followed him to the brink of annihilation and survived. A profound sense of pride welled in Vlad’s chest. He raised his right hand and shouted with every ounce of breath.
"The Leviathan Race has been defeated. We have won!"
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