On the southeastern fringe of the Wishe Forest, a fortress stood like a silent titan. Sandwiched between two jagged mountain peaks, the West Gate of Alf served as the forest's first and final defiance against the outside world.
Inside the war room, Levos—his long red hair catching the torchlight—hunched over a map. His eyes, sharp and weary, traced the scout reports like a man trying to solve a puzzle where the pieces kept changing.
BANG!
The heavy oak doors recoiled. A woman in battered, blood-stained plate armor marched in, flanked by an elven warrior and a grim-faced mage. As one, they halted and bowed.
"Viska," Levos breathed.
The woman pulled back her hood, releasing a cascade of gold hair. Her green robes were torn at the hem, but her smile was warm as she met his gaze. "I am back, Levos."
Levos didn't wait. He crossed the room, pulling his wife into a brief, fierce embrace and a gentle kiss. Viska chuckled, the tension leaving her shoulders for a fleeting second before she pushed him back gently, her face hardening into a stoic mask.
"The North Passage is secured," she reported, her voice dropping an octave. "But the monsters are marching on the outlying villages. And that bastard Folwin... he sits idle. He hasn't moved a finger."
The room went cold. Everyone knew the name. Ever since King Larfal had bestowed the title of Jarl upon Folwin, the man had been a rot within the kingdom.
"We have no choice but to observe," Levos said grimly.
"If he makes a move to harm Oberon," Viska declared, her voice carrying a shiver-inducing edge that made the guards stiffen, "I will not hesitate to end him."
"He is my son as much as yours, Viska," Levos promised. "I will protect him even if it costs my life. But tell me... you feel it too, don't you?"
Viska bit her lip. "I've known he was special since the day he was born. But as his mother, I am terrified of the fate that awaits him. The messengers of Lunethra have cleared the path, and he trains as if he's preparing for the end of the world."
Suddenly, the air in the room grew heavy. A low, vibrating hum rattled the glassware. They rushed to the balcony, looking toward the horizon. The sky was no longer blue; a swirling vortex of black clouds was congregating, pulsing with a terrifying, rhythmic lightning.
"By the spirits," a guard whispered. "What is happening?"
====x====
ROAR.
The dragon's cry was a physical weight, a sound that curdled the blood of the monsters below. But above the beast, a tiny, humanoid silhouette hung suspended in the air, defying gravity.
The dragon thrashed its wings, conjuring a hurricane of flame to incinerate the intruder. But before it could take flight, the very earth rebelled. A colossal hand of living stone erupted from the soil, seizing the dragon's leg and slamming it back down with the force of an earthquake.
ROAR!
The dragon hissed, its claws shredding the stone, but the hand held fast. Then came the deluge—a localized flood of water that extinguished the dragon's fires in a hiss of blinding steam.
The dragon's chest began to glow with a sickly purple light. It was drawing breath for a final, devastating blast.
SMASH!
A second giant hand materialized from the mountainside, delivering a haymaker that cracked the dragon's jaw. From the forest floor, a massive Golem rose—Varda. Her body was a fusion of ancient rock, thick vines, and glowing yellow eyes.
A distance away, watching through a magical telescope, Oberon narrowed his eyes. "It has a physical vessel... it's not a pure elemental. And that fire..." He grimaced. "That's not flame. It's burning ash."
He remembered his past life. He remembered the vile, ashen taste of dragon meat. This creature was an abomination. The scale have high durability that can absorb Varda punch and still regain conscious.
Varda was the vanguard, testing the beast's limits, but Oberon knew the truth: "Every regeneration needs a source. Every heal drains the power source of it."
Oberon raised his hand toward the churning heavens. The clouds responded, spiraling into a single point of blinding white energy directly above the pinned dragon.
"I once struck down an Immortal Demon Lord and erased an army in a single night," Oberon whispered, his voice caught in the wind.
CRACK!
The sky split open. The lightning danced in a manic, lethal rhythm.
"{HEAVEN FALL}"
As I called the spell the concentrated mana fell like a light came from heaven what follow was a powerful defining explosion pushed the heaven and earth at the same time burn the earth turn it into glassed send harp depress slam at the circling mountain.
("Viska are you alright.")
("I-… I am just exhausted master.")
("You can use my mana if you need it.")
("No, master it unwise. In every unknown world Mana is the only source of live and death and…")
After the dust start to settle I saw a chunk of magic crystal I look closer then I saw it.
A girl a small girl probably at the age of less than five sleep peacefully.
"A girl!"
Like spider web shoot out from the crystal it take a second to me to recognize the dragon body start to regenerate from bone, muscle and the scale then they who dead turn to life the rebirth start with his deveining roar.
("Master.")
("What is it Varda.")
("Can you hear it? I heard the monster scream a name.")
I tried to calm myself and heard the monster more careful, but nothing.
("Master are not human anymore. Channel master mana into master ears.")
'I see…Varda was right.'
An elven ears are not only enhance my normal hearing it clearly more sensitive that mean. Mana start to flow through my of the middle of my brain I open my eyes as I did the world start to change drastically the night that clocked the forest turn bright all the living thing that can emitted a mana emitted a light catch my very gaze.
"Incredible…"
((CURSE YOU ARIEL! CURSE YOU ARIEL!))
It was a scream a primal anger.
'I have no choice.'
I descend down to the earth as I touch the ground I put my hand on very earth concentrate my mana on my hand in essence connect to earth.
Oberon called an ancient Dragon tribe magic to be used to hunt a dragon.
"Fjögur dreka stólpar (The four dragon pillar)"
A four pillar shoor from the earth on the North, East, West, South hundred meters high.
'I can feel it take almost half of my mana, but…'
The dragon who already lock his primal furry at my gaze as the dragon tried to charge it fire breath what came was nothing, but a gust of wind.
"This spell used specially to kill a dragon. Your wing will be useless so you fire breath…"
The tremble as my high change to hundred meters as the place where I stood just a top of Varda in her golem from.
"The only reason you are still alive is that girl."
(("CURSE YOU ARIEL!!"))
Varda observe closely with her eyed notice something change about the dragon.
"Master it seems the dragon size are half from before."
Of course
I thought to myself as I know emperor tier magic will leave some effect on the dragon although.
'If that monster use her as power source and that dragon still not recovered that mean the girl almost lost all of her strength.'
"Her life in danger." I spoke gravely.
("What the next step master?")
("We upped the level.")
I enhance Varda golem body decreased it weight half it take a toll on mana if I was in my previous world it should drain more than helm of my mana yet I can feel it I am still not out option with mana capacity that I still have remain.
((CURSE YOU!!!))
"Varda keep pushed forward I will find the opening."
GROWL!
"AS YOUR COMMAND MY LORD!"
Varda both arm ten story high slam to the ground causing earthquake as she charge forward without hint of hesitation.
====x====
The verdant wall of the jungle ended as abruptly as a severed limb. One moment, Freya and Loki Familia were plunging through a tunnel of shadow and vine; the next, they burst into a silence so profound it felt like a physical force. The air, once thick with the buzz of insects and the screech of monsters, was now dead. Heavy.
And then they saw it.
Where an ancient city should have stood, its spires piercing the sky, there was only a wound in the earth. A colossal crater, its edges raw and smoking, dominated the landscape. From its heart rose four monolithic pillars, each hundreds of meters high, carved with script that seemed to writhe in the faint light. They stood like the legs of a god's throne, and upon that throne… was hell.
In the center of the crater, two titans clashed.
One was the Black Dragon, a creature of nightmare made flesh, its scales absorbing the very light around it. But it was the dragon's opponent that stole the breath from every lung. A golem of equal stature, a mountain given life.
It was crafted from the very earth of the crater, its body a fortress of compacted rock and jagged, crystalline spikes. With every ponderous move, a rain of dust and pebbles cascaded down its flanks, revealing the impossibly dense, almost metallic-looking armor beneath. It moved with a terrifying, fluid grace, as if the colossal weight was a mere suggestion.
"By the gods…" whispered a Loki Familia supporter, her voice trembling. "?What is that thing?"
Ottar, the mightiest of Freya Familia, rumbled, his single eye narrowed to a slit. He alone seemed unmoved by the spectacle, his focus absolute. "There. On its head."
Every gaze in the party strained upwards. It was nearly impossible to see through the swirling dust and the sheer scale of the conflict, but there it was. A tiny, brilliant speck atop the golem's craggy skull. A figure clad in armor that shone with its own inner light, directing the titan like a rider guides a steed. The sight was so absurd, so impossibly grand, that it defied comprehension.
"A gods? Mortal… commanding that?" Finn Deimne, the Braver, muttered, his spear feeling like a twig in his hand. For the first time in a long time, the pallum general felt a chill of true uncertainty.
A moment of stunned silence was all Freya needed. Her captivating eyes, usually veiled in languid amusement, were now blazing with an intensity that could sear the soul.
"Ottar."
It was a single word, a whisper, yet it carried the weight of a command. In one fluid motion, the Boaz chieftain hoisted his goddess onto his shoulders and leaped from the ridge, disappearing into the crater's depths without a backward glance.
"Wait! Goddess Freya!" Finn shouted, but they were gone. He slammed a fist into his palm, then whirled around. "Riveria! What do you make of those pillars?"
The elven princess stood frozen, her legendary composure shattered. Her vibrant green eyes were wide, not with fear of the monsters, but of something far older, far more profound. She was staring at the symbols carved into the obsidian pillars, her lips moving silently.
"Riveria!" Finn's sharp cry finally broke the spell.
She gasped, a hand flying to her chest as if woken from a terrible dream. "I… forgive me, Finn. It's just…"
"What is it?" he pressed, his voice urgent.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing her mage's discipline to reassert itself.
"The pillars… they aren't natural formations. They are covered in runes. Ancient, primal runes. I… I can't read them." She looked at him, and for the first time, he saw a flicker of dread in her eyes. "Whatever that pillar like structure is, it was built for a purpose far beyond our understanding."
Finn's jaw tightened. The night was as clear as day to his enhanced vision. He could see the dragon, its movements growing sluggish, and its roars weaker. The golem, the 'rider,' the unknown writing language… they needed answers.
"We go in. Stay sharp, stay together. We get closer and we observe. No one engages without my order." His voice was steel, a commander forcing his own fear down to lead his people. The party, a mix of elite veterans and nervous newcomers, nodded grimly and began their descent into the crater.
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