The battlefield stretched endlessly, scorched earth and shattered mountains marking the path of destruction. Smoke hung in the air like a curtain, turning sunlight into a dull orange haze. Rivers boiled from dragonfire, forests turned to ash, and the cries of soldiers echoed like a thousand broken hearts.
Kael's crimson eyes burned through the smoke, scanning every movement. The Elites, now fully revealed in their terrifying might, advanced like an unstoppable force. Each strike they delivered split the earth, shattered shields, and sent men flying through the air as if they were toys.
The axe-wielding giant had already cleaved a trench across the battlefield. Kael parried again and again, his sword blazing, but fatigue clawed at him. Every swing of his blade, every dodge, demanded more strength than he had ever needed. The weight of leadership pressed down—not just over him, but over the lives of everyone relying on him.
Selara streaked through the air in her sapphire-scaled dragon form, twin torrents of fire blasting from her maw. She met the molten-eyed sorcerer head-on, their battle shaking the heavens. Lightning struck her wings, scorching scales, but she roared and pressed the attack, claws rending stone and metal alike.
Nyxara, golden flames trailing behind her, dove at the scythe-wielding woman. Every strike ignited fire across the scorched battlefield, yet the scythe's shadowy arcs forced her to block and parry, forcing her to tap into reserves of power she hadn't dared use before.
Aurielle danced across the battlefield, laughter still on her lips despite blood streaking her body. She twirled between the assassin and the spear-wielder, striking with precision, forcing them to split attention, yet she felt the creeping sting of exhaustion with every dodge and parry.
Kael's eyes narrowed as the Elites regrouped. Malrik finally stepped onto the field himself. The air bent around him, his shadow stretching impossibly long. He moved with deliberate precision, each step leaving cracks in the earth, tearing at reality itself. His presence was the eye of the storm, a calm before annihilation, and all of Kael's instincts screamed that this was the fight that could end him.
Malrik raised his greatsword, the obsidian runes burning brighter, and the battlefield seemed to pulse with malevolent anticipation. The Elites receded slightly, giving their master space.
"You've done well surviving this long," Malrik's voice rumbled, deep and guttural, "but even dragons fall before the darkness."
Kael's jaw tightened. His sword shook in his hand from fatigue and countless parries, yet his stance remained unyielding. "You're about to find out," he said, voice low, deliberate.
The first strike came before anyone could react. Malrik's blade swung in a colossal arc, cleaving earth, stone, and wind. Kael barely managed to block, sparks flying, his arms burning. The impact sent him sliding back across broken terrain, rubble striking his back.
Selara and Nyxara roared, rushing to intercept the Elites who surged to flank Kael. Aurielle, her red hair streaked with blood, launched herself at the closest enemy, blades flashing. The clash of steel, fire, and shadow ignited the battlefield into a storm of devastation.
Kael's vision blurred as another massive blow struck him, sending him crashing into the ruins of a shattered tower. Pain seared through his body, and he gasped for air, blood running down his chin. For the first time in his life, he felt the edge of mortality brushing against him.
Selara landed beside him, her sapphire eyes wide with concern. "Kael! You can't—don't!"
Nyxara and Aurielle both returned to his side, battered but determined, forming a wall around him as Malrik advanced. "We're not letting you fall!" Nyxara cried.
Aurielle's grin, bloodied but fierce, cut through the chaos. "You're ours, Kael. You can't die before you owe us a date."
Kael's chest rose and fell rapidly. He knew their words weren't just teasing—they were lifelines. Their presence, their trust, their strength—it gave him more than he realized.
A low hum echoed in his mind. The system, silent until now, flickered into awareness, words flashing:
[Vital signs critical. Consider latent power activation.]
Kael ignored it. Not yet. He would not allow the system to dictate the rhythm of his survival. This was his fight, his storm, and he would face it on his terms.
Malrik advanced, and Kael rose to meet him. Each step was agony, but determination burned hotter than any pain. The two collided with earth-shattering force. Lightning tore across the skies, and the ground cracked beneath their clash.
The women fought in perfect sync beside him. Selara's firestorms erupted in the path of Elites attempting to flank Kael. Nyxara's golden flames seared their shadows. Aurielle's blades danced, punishing any who dared approach him.
Even as Kael was battered, beaten, and pushed to the brink, he began to feel it—the awakening stirrings of the Primordial Dragon within. Power long dormant, waiting for the moment he would need it most. His eyes flared crimson, his aura expanded, the ground trembling beneath him.
Malrik's crimson eyes narrowed. "Interesting. You might be more than a mere prince of dragons."
Kael's lips curved slightly. He whispered, more to himself than anyone else: "You'll see."