The dragon's words rolled over the clearing like thunder.
"Humans," it said, voice deep as the earth itself, "you kill all my people and seal me away. I will kill all of you. I, Nugst — the Dragon of Death — have endured your torture for so long."
Altleno felt the name like a blow. Nugst. The air seemed to tremble with it. For the first time since he had first tasted power, genuine, raw fear struck him straight in the chest. His heart hammered as if trying to break free.
Around him the world reacted. Birds that had not flown in years scattered in a flurry of terrified wings. The villagers at the far edge of the ruined trees fell to their knees, faces turned up in frantic prayer. Children began to cry. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Altleno's body wanted to run. Every instinct screamed to turn and flee — to hide in the forest where roots would swallow him and the earth would take his scent. He had survived monsters, bandits, the guild master's corruption, and worse. But this presence was older than every fear he had worn like armor. This presence smelled of ancient winter and the weight of buried suns.
Nugst lowered its massive head until its molten eyes were level with Altleno. The heat from its nostrils singed the leaves at the boy's feet. The dragon's gaze bored into him, inquisitive and terrible.
Altleno's mouth went dry. He remembered the moment the earth cracked, the eye opening, the ogres swallowed by the abyss. He remembered his aura, how it bled into the soil like poison. He had not woken the dragon on purpose, and yet here it stood.
Something in him tightened — not only fear but responsibility, raw and sudden. The villagers were beneath the dragon's shadow. Their faces were pale, small, fragile. No more hiding. No more running.
Altleno found his voice, raw and small against the dragon's thunder. "I— I didn't know. I didn't mean—"
Nugst's laugh was a low grinding sound that shook the stones. "Ignorance is a weak excuse, child of man. The world remembers what you did long before you remembered to be afraid."
A tremor ran through the dragon, and the scent of scorched earth rolled out in a wave. Nugst lifted its head and drew air into lungs like caverns. Flames—black and green, smelling of rot and iron—coalesced behind its teeth.
The villagers screamed. Some began to run; others collapsed, unable to move. The ground at Altleno's feet vibrated in time with the dragon's breath.
For a heartbeat he stood frozen. Then something colder than fear washed over him: a hatred that was not his and yet felt like the only honest thing left. Men had burned dragons, stolen scales and teeth as trophies. Men had sealed a sleeping god and carved bones into altars. Nugst's righteous wrath was not without cause.
Altleno's hands clenched. He could feel the echo of Ru's teachings, distant as a bell: Everything breathes. When you breathe with them, they share their power. He would not let the village die under his watch, even if they had once whispered that he was a monster.
His aura flared — but this time it was different. It did not ripple outward like rot at first; instead it drew inward, a soot-dark coil tightening around his ribs. He shoved the fear down, focusing on a single, stubborn thing: protect.
"Stop," he said, voice steadier than he felt. The word barely reached the dragon, but it grounded him.
Nugst's eyes narrowed. For a moment, the great beast simply studied him, as if tasting the shape of his intent. Then it lowered its head until only the tip of its horn hovered a breath above him, casting a shadow like midnight rain.
"You ask me to stop?" the dragon rumbled. "Why should I spare what broke my world?"
Altleno swallowed. Images of Ru, of Lyra's dying eyes, of children hiding in caves, flashed through him. He thought of every hand he had lifted to change the village — and of those he had ended. He thought of the hollow ache inside him that had once been his only company.
"I will do anything," he said, the words scraping out of him. "I will fix what I broke. Tell me what you want. Tell me how to make it right."
The dragon's horn dipped, nostrils flaring. A wind like a coming storm whistled across the clearing.
For the first time, Nugst's gaze softened – an animal sense, not of forgiveness, but of measurement. The dragon listened, ancient thought moving slow as glaciers.
Something shifted beneath them — the earth hummed like a giant throat preparing to speak. The dragon's chest swelled; sparks of that black-green fire lit in the corners of its teeth.
Altleno felt the world tilt. Whatever decision Nugst made next would not be only his; it would stitch him into the fate of valleys and kingdoms.
The dragon inhaled. The villagers' screams rose like a thin wind. Altleno braced, every muscle coiled.
Nugst opened its maw — and from the cavern of its throat came not just flame, but a voice older than roots, older than the seal itself.
"Choose," it said. "Prove that you are more than the rot you carry. Or let the world burn and be done."
Altleno's lungs burned. He tasted smoke and iron. The moment hung, brutal and absolute. He had always believed strength could shield the weak. Now the test of that belief was a question of life and ruin.
He pushed his hands forward, feeling the aura respond — hungry, hungry for release. The ground beneath him trembled and small cracks spidered out like veins.
He could stand and try to bargain. Or he could turn and run, leaving the village to the dragon's judgment.
Altleno's voice came out as a single, thin thing, but it carried to every listener in the clearing:
"No," he said. "I won't run."
The dragon's eyes flared brighter than torchlight. Nugst's jaw descended. The green-black flame pooled behind its teeth like a sun being born. The air thickened, the world narrowed to the moment before collision.
Then, with a roar that split the sky, Nugst unleashed its breath —
…and everything went white.