The Outlander was forced to look ahead at the squelching sound, witnessing the knight tear out sothing which should never be grasped–a beating heart. There was no hesitation worn on the bare swordsman’s face as he held the core piece of himself, raising it above his head as if presenting it to the heavens.
"I give this offering to you, O’ Great Dragon, Chonurius! My heart, for yours–!" Valerius shouted to the sky.
Rowan watched the maddening act long enough, taking a step forward, only to be intercepted as a quake intercepted his path, rippling through the field, "--Haah?!"
The soil split, being cut as if the claws of an unseen beast tore at the land. In the knight’s hand, the still beating heart ascended, vanishing as in its stead, a larger, pale-white heart descended into the swordsman’s hand.
Valerius plunged the granted organ into the gaping hole in his chest, bringing tremors to repeatedly shake the ground. Imdiately upon accepting the foreign heart, the complexion of the knight shifted, growing pale as his veins bulged against his skin.
’Just how urgent is this mission for Mastorn that this knight would go this far? I doubt he’s doing it just for the honor,’ Rowan witnessed.
As the quakes took hold of the ruined camp, the limbs of the broken knight suddenly expanded as glistening, quartz scales crawled over his skin.
Rowan glanced over, finding the brunette woman standing beside him, looking towards the convulsing knight.
"I am going to recomnd that we retreat for the ti being," Astrid said, looking up at the much taller Outlander. "I believe this ets the terms given to us for "not engaging", Rowan."
"You’re free to retreat, Astrid," Rowan responded with an unfading smile.
A sharp glare was shot up as she stared daggers at him, "You know, this habit of yours is terrible. It will get you killed one day–maybe today. We need to regroup with the others–"
"I will not leave the area until either myself or Valerius is dead!" Rowan shouted as the wind shifted with the commanding words.
Astrid imdiately reacted, punching the man right in his arm, though not budging him, "You idiot–! Why would you do that?! Are you just trying to be difficult?!"
"It’s called confidence!" Rowan proudly claid. "Have so faith in . I’ll get answers out of him."
The dark-haired woman huffed, folding her arms over her black uniform, "It’s not like I have a choice now, do I? You went and did that...If you end up getting overwheld, I won’t help you."
"That’s fair," Rowan said with a thrilled shine buried in his ice-blue eyes.
As the perturbed Outlander backed off, Rowan stood his ground as the air around him shuddered. Ahead of him, the knight had lost all sense of human appearance—
Covered in pale scales with a tail stretching from his back, sprouting quartz horns with a physique swollen to twice his previous size.
Even as the once honorable monster slay abandoned his humanity, unraveling into sothing nefarious, Rowan’s heart thumped with delight.
["From the ti I took my first step, I always chased excitent."]
—
On the field of a high school football field with the stands packed, the young man rushed down the green grass. He bashed his shoulder into a defender, turning around just as the ball arrived—
It was caught, allowing him to run with everything he had. Multiple pairs of hands from the defense grabbed onto him, yet it hardly slowed him down.
"LOOK AT HIM GO! ROWAN MAYER—THE STAR TIGHT END OF THE CAROLINA HIGH SHARKS!"
The entire ti he ran, carrying multiple people on his back that tried to drag him down, he smiled. All the way into the end zone, he brought the ball—
"TOUCHDOWN!"
["I lived for it. Nothing else in the world compared to that feeling—hearing my heart drum in my ears, my blood running in my veins like fire. I loved it."]
After a blowout win, he walked ho, finding his way intercepted by a group of familiar faces. They tried to wear hoods to hide their faces, though the high school star recognized them.
"Going sowhere?" One behind asked him.
"We just want to have a little chat," the tallest among the group said, cracking his knuckles.
In the backways a not-too-good city, it wasn’t uncommon to be confronted by thugs.
Though, that’s not who they were—
"Oh, you’re those sorry ass defenders for that sorry ass team I crushed," Rowan said with a cocky smile.
The half-dozen teenagers needed little incentive to jump to violence. He didn’t hesitate to et them halfway, throwing the first punch as he shattered the nose of the slender one.
Even as he was hit, he smiled, hitting back harder. With busted knuckles and a swollen face, he remained standing as the others were laid out on the asphalt.
["I didn’t have an off switch. Everything I did, I went a hundred percent. When sothing excites , I can’t just turn away."]
Into college, it was touchdown after touchdown, record after record—all shattered along with a smile. A nationwide sensation, leading to a number-one overall pick in the draft.
["I was a superstar."]
On the field with tens of thousands of spectators in the stands, tens of millions watching around the nation, he was focused. In formation, he locked eyes with the defenders and their hardened gazes behind their helts.
It was the biggest stage of his career—
The divisional championship ga, one win away from the national championship itself, down six with only a minute left to go. At the mont of the snap, he dashed. Though a pair of burly defenders attempted to close him off, he broke through with a single push.
An open field, a clear sight to the end zone—it was the most beautiful scenery in the world to him. As the crowd roared, he sprinted with everything he had, clutching the football to his body.
A defender grabbed onto his leg, though he imdiately shook him loose.
["Right now, I’m the most free man in the world."]
One defender got in his way, intercepting him—SLAM. Helt to helt, they collided; he felt his consciousness flicker briefly as the other was knocked out cold.
["Can’t stop. Won’t stop."]
As his heart played an orchestra in his ears, as bodies were thrown against him desperately, he ran and ran until—
"TOUCHDOWN!"
That feeling of victory, embraced by his teammates, was sothing that couldn’t be replicated. Yet, after the ga, he found himself in front of a doctor.
"Yeah, I can’t advise you to play, Rowan," the elderly man in the white coat said, tapping his clipboard.
"What–?!" Rowan reacted, standing up from the table.
"You’ve got a concussion. If you keep taking blows to the head, there’s no telling what will happen," the doctor said. "I know it’s a big ga for you, but you’ve got a whole life ahead. I’m sure your teammates will understand."
["This is my life."]
It was a week later that he found himself standing on that field again, burning with excitent even as if placed everything on the line. That was the difference between himself and the opposing team; he laid his life on it all.
["Not once in my life have I lived for the future. I exist only in the mont, savoring everything around . Every mont, I’m grateful–that’s why I drive forward with one-hundred percent without looking back."]
–
From the mouth of the dragon-man, flas of a purple radiance erupted, filling the valley with a deafening roar. As the magenta embers cascaded from the sky, the beast erupted forward like a thunderbolt.
["This is just the sort of thing I wished for when coming to this world. Battles against mythical beings, beyond the realms of reason! I have new friends here–no, they’re my family! If I can strive for a better future for them, I don’t care what happens."]
A press of his boot launched a wave of vibrations forth in a cone. As the air was weaponized against the bestial warrior, this ti, it did not simply send him flying—
"Oh—?" Rowan witnessed.
The transford knight moved against the oscillating current as if resisting the pull of a tornado. It was an act of defiance towards logic itself; the mythical scales withstood the vibrations like no more than unruly hail pelting a coat.
To his surprise, the inhuman hand broke through the pulse, grabbing his face as all he saw was the pale, scaled palm. In that monstrous grip, each of the claws clenched his skull like an orange being juiced.
"--Beco immune to being crushed for ten seconds...in exchange for restricting my mana!" Rowan forced the words out as the pressure captured his skull.
Saving his head from being squashed like a lon, he hoisted his hamr up, slamming it down upon the arm that held him. It was just enough to briefly loosen the grip for him to pull away, going for another swing of the massive weapon–
The blunt side slamd into the forearms of the defending dragon-man, who slid back, enduring the blow as his scales only partially cracked. In retaliation, the jaws of the man-beast parted, unleashing a roar that shook the winds.
For Rowan, it was a taste of his own dicine; the bestial cry blasted against his body, causing him to be thrown back as the force thundered on his flesh.
He plunged his boot into the soil as an anchor, catching himself:
"Splendid! You’ve beco sothing exciting now, Valerius!" Rowan shouted, unable to contain his joyous laughter.
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