The moment the health bar appeared, the battle began.
Without hesitation, flames and lightning surged across Bayle's dragon form. In a single motion, he leapt skyward, becoming a blazing meteor of Flame Lightning that plummeted toward the earth.
Boom.
The crimson meteor struck, its impact—fused with divine essence and the might of a Dragon King—shaking all of Caelid. A scarlet mushroom cloud bloomed on the horizon.
Blood burned. Thunder roared.
Flying Dragons grovelled, and every living thing trembled, as if all creation bowed before the crimson Flame Lightning, submitting to its dreadful, annihilating power.
Yet at the heart of that red inferno, where the Flame Lightning raged fiercest, a small figure stood. Slowly, he raised his shield, then swung it to fling aside the dragon claw pressing against it. Drawing his greatsword, he gripped it with both hands, leapt upward, and—
[Ash of War • Lion's Claw]
The massive greatsword—or rather, a block of iron more than a blade—crashed down upon the dragon's enormous head.
Bayle could have dodged. But just as the small figure hadn't evaded his earlier strike, the Mad Dragon would never turn away from a challenge.
Boom.
The ground shook. The dragon's claws sank into the earth.
Boiling dragon blood dripped along his scales, hissing like molten rock when it hit the ground. The strike's force exceeded all expectation, slicing off the horn atop his head and leaving him momentarily dazed.
Yet there was no fear.
When he regained his senses, Bayle used no tricks—only pride. Like the small warrior raising his shield, the dragon lifted his head and, in pure defiance, sent his foe flying.
Thud.
The small figure landed and steadied himself.
The dragon shook his head and looked up.
"Again," he said, eyes blazing with battlelust.
Flame Lightning flared once more. Dragonclaw met Greatsword. Sparks burst as the blades clashed, until the Greatsword bit into the claw and split it apart.
But sheer size alone gave the dragon the edge—half a claw still followed through, slamming the small figure full on.
Thud.
They broke apart, but there was no pause. In the next instant, claw and Greatsword collided again.
Beneath the crimson sky, within the storm of Flame Lightning, man and dragon fought.
At that moment, they were no kings or gods—only warriors locked in mortal struggle.
Time passed.
No one knew how long they fought. As more dragon blood soaked the earth, the deep red of the heavens began to fade. Thunder softened, fire dimmed. The dragon's battered body could barely move its claws.
Yet the light in his eyes did not falter. There was no hatred toward the human who had wounded him so deeply—only exhilaration. His gaze burned hotter.
Don't misunderstand—Bayle wasn't some Elizabeth-style deviant, nor did he harbor strange fetishes. He simply loved the fight itself.
No matter the opponent, no matter the odds, even in the face of death—if it let him fight to his heart's content, that was enough.
The thrill of battle.
Perhaps the entire Lands Between was built upon that very thrill—a world of warriors intoxicated by combat, driven by fragments of Dark Souls.
The essence of battlelust itself had found form at a fated moment, choosing the worthiest vessel to manifest in this world, yearning for its destined struggle.
And now, it had its wish.
Bayle had his wish.
Many claimed Bayle rebelled against the Dragonlord because the Ancient Dragons discriminated against the Flying Dragons—or because he sought to be the new king.
But those closest to the dragon's inner circle knew the truth: Bayle rebelled simply because he couldn't stand the Dragonlord's complacency and wanted a fight.
Even before the rebellion, Bayle had tried to challenge the Dragonlord many times, but each attempt was stopped.
Not by fear—by the Dragon.
Or rather, by the Dragon God.
"Come now, it's already like that. Just go along with it…"
"Here, take this trinket I brought back. Think of it as a toy for Placidusax. Bring it back for him to chew on…"
"Oh, and next time I'm away, it might be longer. Keep an eye on him for me, make sure he doesn't slack off again after I leave, hiding in the temporal rift…"
Did Bayle love the Dragon God? Certainly not.
But for some reason, watching that lively being—so unlike the ancient, stone-like dragons—always darting about, Bayle, who'd grown up despised by the elders and knew only battlelust, couldn't bring himself to be angry. He couldn't refuse His words either.
So despite his frustration toward that old one, Bayle kept delaying his challenge.
Until one day, the Dragon God said He was leaving on a long journey and asked Bayle to watch over Placidusax. He never came back.
What followed became legend.
The god vanished, whereabouts unknown.
The Mad Dragon rebelled, and both king and dragon were wounded.
Then, with the fall of Astel from the heavens, dragon civilization was destroyed, and the Flying Dragons were banished.
The Dragonlord retreated into the temporal rift to heal, waiting for the god's return.
The Mad Dragon returned to Jagged Peak, waiting atop the mountain for challengers to come.
It's said that before the rebellion, Bayle and the Dragonlord spoke briefly. Bayle asked why he chose to wait instead of seeking the Dragon God.
No record remains of the Dragonlord's answer. Only this—when their talk ended, Bayle struck with his claw.
And the rebellion began.
"That useless fool, that idiot—he doesn't deserve to be called a Dragonlord at all…"
The shattered dragon lay in a pool of blood, its voice hoarse.
"They call him the Dragonlord, but all he does is cower in that rift all day, doing nothing. He neither leads nor commands—Fortissax, that lump of stone, does more than he ever has…
"I thought about finding him later, but I'm terrible at that sort of thing. After being broken, I didn't have the strength anyway, so I just went back to Sharp Mountain…"
"That's where I first met him—and where we agreed he'd send word to me before I left."
The reason Bayle and Placidusax never finished their fight wasn't because Bayle lost his nerve and ran—it was because Placidusax slipped into the temporal rift first.
From the start, Placidusax found the whole battle senseless. He thought Bayle was just acting up again and figured he could handle him as usual.
But when two heads were torn clean off and he realized Bayle was serious—really fighting to the death—the Dragonlord was completely dumbfounded.
What the hell?
How did a normal conversation suddenly turn into a life-or-death fight?
He knew that if he went all out, he could kill Bayle, but the entire thing felt absurd to him. So, to keep it from escalating into full-blown madness, he decided to retreat into the temporal rift—partly to recover, partly to give that lunatic Bayle time to cool off.
It wasn't a bad plan. In fact, if nothing had gone wrong, with time Bayle would've calmed down. The Dragonlord could have reattached his own heads, healed the wounds, and even patched up Bayle.
But as everyone knows, once you say "if nothing goes wrong," that's when everything goes wrong.
And in this case, two things did.
First, the Ancient Dragons' long-standing discrimination against the Flying Dragons caused a chain reaction—when Bayle rebelled, others followed instinctively.
Second, a certain purple meteorite fell from the heavens—one that had lost all control after being influenced by the Dragon God.
"You really are the unluckiest bunch…"
After hearing Bayle's account, Lloyd sighed.
Dragonlord. Dragon God. Bayle.
Each of their actions was tied together—one misstep, and dragon civilization ended up in ruins.
But the Dragonlord Placidusax had his own defense.
"I am the Dragonlord. If the Dragon God has departed and I abandon the spacetime rift, who will stabilize the fabric of the world?"
As golden flames flared, a projection of a four-headed dragon appeared beside the man and dragon.
"And while I haven't gone out searching myself, I told you—I've had the dragons outside keep watch…"
"Keep watch, my ass, you stupid (beep—)!"
While Bayle had been speaking to Lloyd somewhat normally, the instant Placidusax appeared, he snapped—his form shifting fully into that of a dragon.
"I'll kill your mother, you stupid (beep—) Placidusax!"
Placidusax, long used to Bayle's curses, didn't react.
He gave Bayle a brief look to gauge his condition, then turned to Lloyd. After a moment of silence, he spoke.
"Have you shown it that blade yet?"
"Not yet."
"Then I suggest you do. It might calm things down."
Lloyd nodded and did as he was told.
And just as Placidusax predicted, when Bayle saw the blade and recognized its material, his furious roars died instantly. He fell silent—completely, utterly silent.
The world quieted with him.
Afterward, Lloyd continued speaking with Placidusax.
They discussed the blade in detail, then delved into the history of the Ancient Dragons and the Flying Dragons.
Though the Flying Dragons had been banished and the Dragon Feast ritual created to punish them, Placidusax himself didn't harbor much hatred. In fact, the exile hadn't even been his direct order—it had been the Ancient Dragons' spontaneous decision after the meteor's impact.
As for his stance?
"Neither support nor opposition. Same as always—retreat into the spacetime rift and ignore everything else."
"That's because you were already wounded by me back then, and you couldn't discern 'His' intentions…"
"So instead of risking mistakes, you chose to do nothing? What kind of king is that? Might as well crown a turtle as Dragonlord—at least turtles stick their heads out!"
"You don't understand the burden a ruler bears…"
"I understand your mother's ass!"
And with that, the shouting and cursing began again.
Still, despite the bickering, Lloyd confirmed one thing—Placidusax held no objection to ending the hunt for the Flying Dragons.
With his approval, the Ancient Dragons would likely accept it too.
But…
"That will require the true 'Placidusax' to appear."
When the discussion concluded, the four-headed projection before them made its request—to kill both itself and Bayle.
As beings born from error, their existence alone was a danger to the world. It was the very reason Placidusax had never descended in person and had tried to prevent Bayle's arrival.
Now that Bayle had been defeated by Lloyd, his death would allow Placidusax to finally rest.
And for once, Bayle agreed.
"You have defeated me. Take my head with your own hands—this is your reward and your medal..."
Unlike Placidusax, Bayle could accept defeat.
Even as he lay dying, he faced the end with pride. As the vanquished, he tore open his own chest, pulled out his still-beating heart blazing with Flame Lightning, and placed it into Lloyd's hands.
[Acquired 'Essence of Struggle']
Meanwhile, after confirming Bayle's death, Placidusax gave a slight nod. Stepping out from the projection, he reached between his four heads, removed a pale, rock-white dragon scale, and handed it to Lloyd.
[Acquired 'Essence of Tranquility']
Once the essences were given, Placidusax lifted his head. With the Dragonlord's roar, lightning began to converge, repairing the torn fabric of space and time.
At the same time, his form—and Bayle's fallen body—slowly began to fade away.
Eventually, after who knows how long, everything was gone.
The meteor that had fallen from the sky, the Dragonlord who had stepped into the world, even the traces of the battle...
It was as if none of it had ever happened. The only proof it was real lay in Lloyd's hands—two spheres of pure essence...
...and the two soul fragments he had casually taken along the way.
"These few souls won't cause much disturbance. They'll serve as good material for expanding the world system—and maybe they'll prove useful in other ways. Once they're spent, they can be reincarnated."
That was the plan.
After tossing the two soul fragments into his inventory, Lloyd took the twin essences and went to find Greyoll.
Thanks to the restored flow of spacetime, Greyoll had suffered no harm. All the Dragon Hearts Lloyd had entrusted to her were reset to nothing.
But Dragon Hearts were no longer needed.
The two essences in his hands surpassed any number of Dragon Hearts combined. They weren't just enough to create a new Flying Dragon Queen—they could birth an entirely new Dragon God.
And, being old and weary, Greyoll made her choice. With the two essences before her, she decided to offer herself as part of the ritual, sacrificing her own body to amplify its power.
In time, as Greyoll slowly closed her eyes, two new dragons emerged into the world.
One was platinum-colored, a four-headed dragon with shimmering azure eyes—majestic and serene.
The other was jet black, its eyes crackling with Flame Lightning—fiery and wild, as if eager for battle.
Of course, Greyoll was not truly gone.
Though she had given her life and dragon soul to the ritual, Lloyd—who could even seize fragments of souls that shaped time itself—had no trouble preserving her consciousness and spirit.
After securing Greyoll's soul and confirming its condition, Lloyd lifted his head and looked upon the two newborn dragons.
They, in turn, gazed back at him.
Two names appeared before his eyes.
[Dragon of Tranquility · Placidasax]
[Dragon of Strife · Bayla]