Boom.
With a deafening explosion, a man's body slammed into the side of a mountain, leaving cracks in the stone.
He groaned, blood dripping down his chin, and looked up—only to see a massive dragon descending from the clouds, wings outstretched like a shadow over the land.
The dragon's gaze was blank, emotionless. Cold.
Then the man grinned.
With trembling hands, he activated the skill that had once brought him to the peak of power.
Illusory chains that had been wrapped around his body shattered with a burst of light.
His aura surged. The ground trembled.
He drew his sword in a single motion and slashed upward, striking the dragon with overwhelming force. The blow tore through its scales, dealing massive damage—and healing his shattered body in the process.
The man in dark armor—Aelion—glanced at the glowing timer in the corner of his vision.
5 minutes.
That was all the time he had left in Limit Break.
But the grin on his face didn't fade. In fact, it only grew wider.
Lightning crackled across his body as arcs of energy shot from his sword, searing the air with every twitch.
His right hand gripped the blade, cleaving through the dragon's strikes with raw power—while lightning surged and gathered in his left.
In one fluid motion, he threw the sword high into the air, letting it spin above him in a trail of sparks.
His left hand flashed forward, surging with condensed lightning, and plunged straight into the dragon's chest, shattering its scales with a thunderous crack.
The dragon's muscles tensed around the point of impact, trapping Aelion's arm where he had struck.
He couldn't escape.
In the next instant, the dragon's mouth opened wide—and unleashed a torrent of flame.
The inferno engulfed him.
Aelion's body was thrown back, smoking, his armor half-melted. His health bar dipped into the red, flashing with a persistent [DANGER] warning.
He was on the brink of death.
But the fire in his eyes told another story.
Through scorched lips, he whispered the name of a skill only his class could wield.
A pulse of black and crimson light erupted from his body.
In an instant, his wounds vanished—and the dragon's health bar plummeted.
Its massive corpse crashed to the ground, kicking up a shockwave of dust and wind.
Aelion dropped to one knee, panting, his armor cracked and sparking.
Victory.
Before Aelion could celebrate, his expression shifted.
There was another presence on the boss floor.
Only two possibilities came to mind—
Either there were two bosses,
or the one he had just defeated was merely an underling.
If it was the former, he might be able to manage.
But if it was the latter…
Aelion's eyes narrowed, his muscles instinctively tensing.
Before he could turn fully, a sound cut through the silence—
Laughter. Deep. Confident. Mocking.
He snapped his head toward the source.
Standing just beyond the dragon's corpse was a man with golden hair, his form shrouded in a black imperial robe adorned with shimmering golden Spear patterns.
His presence was overwhelming—regal, magnetic, and utterly commanding.
Every instinct in Aelion screamed one thing:
This man was no ordinary foe.
Aelion reached out toward his sword—
Only to realize he couldn't move.
Not even a finger.
Even the Limit Break timer in the corner of his vision had frozen.
Time itself had stopped.
The man spoke, his voice calm, measured, yet carrying a weight that demanded attention.
"I don't have much time. So listen closely—
Find the Temple of Light once you enter Nytherra."
With a flick of his wrist, the man tossed a golden token to the ground.
Before it could touch the floor, it shimmered and began floating, quietly circling Aelion like a silent guardian.
Then—
Time resumed.
The man had vanished without a trace.
Aelion caught his breath, fingers finally wrapping around his sword's hilt.
But there was no time to dwell.
He turned and made his way toward the second presence he had sensed earlier.
And within half a minute, Aelion stood at the threshold of a deeper chamber.
His eyes met the true threat.
The real boss.
Aelion stepped into the chamber, and there—seated upon a throne of molten obsidian—stood a being that redefined power.
The humanoid dragon slowly opened its eyes.
Its towering form was wrapped in scales like living onyx, shimmering faintly with crimson undertones. Wings, vast and leathery, folded behind its back like a cloak of night. Each movement exuded restrained violence—a predator in the shape of a god. Long, curved horns swept back from its skull like a crown forged by fire, and its slitted golden eyes radiated ancient intelligence and barely contained fury.
Muscles rippled beneath its obsidian hide with every breath, as if the creature itself had been carved from volcanic stone and filled with thunder. Its claws, sharp as obsidian blades, rested casually on the arms of the throne—but even still, the weight of its presence crushed the air like a storm bearing down.
Then it spoke.
Its voice rumbled through the chamber like the crack of a world breaking.
"So… you killed Raltz, huh?
Hmph. That weakling couldn't keep up anyway."
The dragon's eyes shifted toward Aelion—then narrowed, locking onto the floating golden token still orbiting him.
A flicker of something passed across the dragon's face—recognition… then hatred.
Its snarl twisted into a roar.
"Bastards…
To think they would reach even here!"
The air shook as his aura exploded outward, waves of raw, oppressive magic crashing through the chamber.
In a blur, the dragon struck, cleaving through the air with one claw.
The token shattered with a flash of light and a metallic scream.
Silence fell again—but the tension remained, coiled like a serpent ready to strike.
Aelion stepped forward, his sword still lowered, eyes calm despite the pressure that had just tried to crush him.
"I don't know what that token was…" he said, voice steady and cold.
"But I have no intention of following what that man told me to do."
For a moment, the chamber fell silent.
The humanoid dragon blinked once… then twice.
Then—suddenly—its oppressive aura vanished like a snuffed flame.
A beat passed. Then another.
And then, a thunderous laughter erupted from the beast's throat, shaking the very walls of the chamber.
It was a deep, primal sound—not mocking, but genuinely amused, as if it had just witnessed something rare.
"Hah! You refuse even them? You might be more interesting than I thought."
The dragon leaned forward, wings twitching slightly behind its back, golden eyes glinting with newfound curiosity.
"Very well, mortal. Let's see if your strength is as sharp as your will."