CHAPTER 60 — Breath of the Dead Dragon
The wave slash from Kogestu carved through the swirling fog like a silver crescent moon tearing open night itself. Wind split, vapors shuddered, and for a moment everything became still—too still.
Then—
**RRRROOOOAAARRRR!!!**
The roar was not alive—no warmth, no breath, only a hollow, thunderous echo of something that once lived. It sounded like a cry dragged from the depths of hell itself. The fog vibrated, the earth trembled beneath Zodac's boots, and dust shook loose from the rotten trees around them.
Zodac hit the ground hard, rolling, pushing himself up with shaky arms. His eyes burned instantly. Red, watery—like acid was poured into them. His throat itched violently, each breath like inhaling broken glass.
The poisonous fog crept into his lungs.
He choked.
He coughed.
But he forced himself to stay conscious.
The haze cleared just enough for him to finally see—and when he did, his blood ran cold.
The undead dragon was right above him.
A massive shadow covering the sunlight.
Wings made of torn flesh stretched over bone like rotten leather.
Its long neck hung crooked, half-severed, held together by little more than dark veins and unnatural magic.
Zodac froze—breathing shallowly, terrified even the smallest sound would seal his death. The beast wasn't attacking, not immediately. It twisted its skull left… then right… sniffing… hunting. The sockets where eyes once sat were hollow black pits, leaking trails of purple smoke.
**It couldn't see him.**
Or so he hoped.
He stepped back slowly—silent, calculated. One step. Then another. Every heartbeat echoed loud enough to shake his ribs.
*Don't breathe… don't move too fast…*
He watched as the creature reached toward its half-severed neck, jaw splitting unnaturally wide, and bit off a hanging piece of rotten flesh. A stream of dark blood oozed down its chin.
Something fell off from inside the torn throat—a stone, glowing sickly purple like corrupted mana.
But twisted. Dead. Tainted.
Zodac's breath hitched. If he could retrieve that core—
But there was no time to dream as thick fog slowly gathers all around him and a slight movement was enough to seek the deal. The moment he took another step back,
The dragon's skull suddenly snapped toward him with terrifying precision.
**RRROOOOAAARRR!!!**
Its mouth opened wide and fumes of dark violet poison surged out, spraying toward him like a storm of death.
Zodac leaped aside, boots sliding across damp stones.
"How!?" he gasped, panic striking his chest.
The monster had no eyes—yet it tracked him perfectly.
It wasn't blind.
Did he sense him?.
The dragon flapped its decayed wings—bones cracking, membranes tearing—and somehow lifted off the ground. Against all logic, against nature itself, the dead flew.
Zodac stood in shock witnessing this thing which is not meant to be physically possible, a shadow passed over him like an eclipse.
Then the massive tail swung.
**BOOOOOM!!**
The ground ruptured. Dirt exploded everywhere. Zodac barely jumped back, shielding his face from the flying debris that came his way. Rocks shredded through trees, splitting them like brittle twigs.
The fog dispersed for a moment, revealing the nightmare fully. Its spine jutted through decaying scales, ribs exposed, heart missing. Rotten veins pulsed faintly—pumping pure toxins instead of blood.
The undead dragon roared again and another tail strike came—faster than the first.
He blocked with Kogestu—
But it was like blocking a mountain.
The blow hit him square, a direct hit as the sounds of bone breaking echoes through the surroundings, sending him flying across the battlefield.
**CRASH—ROLL—CRASH!**
Zodac tumbled through gravel and uprooted shrubs, pain bursting across his ribs and back. He coughed violently, spit blood, and used his sword as support to stand.
His knees wobbled.
The dragon inhaled.
The world darkened.
Then—
**HOOOORRRRKKKK—WOOSH!!!**
A torrent of poison breath surged straight at him.
Zodac braced to dodge—
But pain exploded through his leg. A stabbing numbness like needles under skin.
"Damn—my legs…" he gasped.
He dropped to one knee—helpless—watching death race toward him like a storm wave.
"**Shelt—**"
He couldn't finish his words as the the poisonous fog swallows him whole. As darkness fell upon him,
Dark. Suffocating. Burning every nerve.
He fell to the ground as the mist wrapped around him like living hands, crawling into his nose, eyes, throat. His body convulsed. He clawed at the dirt desperately.
**COUGH—COUGH—COUGH!!!**
Blood sprayed from his mouth.
His vision blurred into smudges of purple and black.
His lungs screamed for clean air that did not exist.
Every inhale felt like drowning in acid.
His heartbeat slowed.
Coldness crept from his fingertips inward.
His thoughts scattered.
*If I die here… the village… everyone… they'll die too.*
Faces flashed through his mind—
The woman he healed,
The crying children in beds,
The town buried in fog...
Their lives sat on his shoulders.
His fingers dug into the soil.
*Not yet…*
*Not like this…*
He took another agonizing breath—
and agony turned to fire in his chest.
He was fading.
Life slipping away like sand in water.
"Not… gonna… give up…"
His thoughts stuttered weakly.
"Have to… keep… fighting…"
His fingers trembled as he forced energy through his veins.
He whispered through blood and poison:
"**P… Pure… Mana… D–drain…**"
His body collapsed fully, cheek hitting cold ground.