The night air was still sharp with ash and cold as Fei He slipped from the ruined courtyard, his senses still reeling from the sight of the creatures that now ruled the world. He had barely taken three steps toward the narrow valley when a low, guttural growl rolled from the shadows, and a massive shape emerged from behind a shattered pillar. It was a stone‑clad drake, its scales black as obsidian, eyes glowing with a deep, amber fire. Its wings, half‑folded, beat the air with a thunderous whoosh, and its nostrils flared, tasting the heat of Fei He's own ember.
For a heartbeat, Fei He's mind flashed back to the ten years of silent training, to the moment his shackles melted, to the fire that now lived in his veins. He raised his hand, and a thin ribbon of flame shot forward, striking the drake's snout. The creature snarled, and the fire sputtered, absorbed by the creature's thick hide as if it were nothing more than a summer breeze. The drake's head snapped forward, and a massive claw, tipped with razor‑sharp stone, swiped at Fei He's chest.
He twisted, the motion barely enough to avoid a direct hit, but the claw's edge caught his left shoulder, tearing through cloth and flesh. Pain exploded, and blood splattered on the cold stone. Fei He stumbled, his breath ragged, and the ember in his palm flickered, threatening to die. The drake's eyes narrowed, and it inhaled, drawing in the scent of blood and fear, its other senses—vibration, essence, heat—all focusing on the wounded human.
Desperation surged through Fei He. He remembered the ancient technique he had once read about in a cracked scroll: _Cinder Pulse_, a rapid burst of fire that could momentarily blind a creature with its own reflected light. He clenched his fist, feeling the heat pool at his core, and thrust his hand toward the drake's eyes. A blinding flash of white‑hot flame erupted, and for a split second, the drake's vision was washed out. It roared, stumbling back, its massive wings flailing, creating a gust that knocked Fei He off his feet.
He hit the ground hard, the impact sending a shock of pain up his spine. The drake, recovering, lunged, its jaws wide enough to swallow him whole. Instinct took over; Fei He rolled to the side, using the momentum to push himself up with his right arm, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side. He could feel the heat of the drake's breath on his neck, a scorching wind that threatened to melt his skin.
In that moment, a memory of his mother's lullaby surged through him, a rhythm of breath and fire that had once saved him from the crystal's energy. He inhaled deeply, drawing the cold night air into his lungs, and exhaled a steady stream of flame, not at the drake's eyes this time, but at its massive chest. The fire, fed by his own life force, burned brighter than any he had ever produced. It licked at the drake's scales, finding a tiny crack between two plates, and seeped in, igniting the creature's own internal heat.
The drake let out a deafening howl, its body convulsing as fire surged from within. Its wings thrashed, sending shards of stone flying, and its massive tail swept across the courtyard, toppling pillars and sending debris crashing down. Fei He, using the chaos, scrambled to his feet, his left arm hanging limp, blood dripping onto the stone. He could feel his strength waning, his vision blurring from blood loss and exhaustion.
He knew he could not win this fight with brute force. He needed to escape, to live another day to use his fire for something greater. He turned and ran, his feet pounding against the broken tiles, the drake's roars echoing behind him. As he reached the edge of the courtyard, a sudden, sharp pain shot through his leg—he had stepped on a jagged piece of stone, and it pierced his calf, sending him crashing to the ground once more.
The drake, now a towering inferno of its own making, stalked toward him, its eyes full of rage and pain. Fei He, lying on his back, looked up at the night sky, at the silver crescent moon that seemed to watch with indifferent curiosity. He whispered a final incantation, _Ashen Veil_, a desperate spell that turned his body into a cloud of ash and smoke, allowing him to slip through the cracks of the stone floor and disappear into the earth.
The drake, confused, roared at the empty space, its fire dimming as it searched for its prey. Fei He, now a wisp of ash, drifted through the cracks, emerging on the other side of the courtyard, hidden in the shadows. He re‑formed, his body whole but battered, his clothes torn, his skin covered in soot and blood. He lay there, breathing heavily, his heart pounding, his fire still burning within, but now tempered by the knowledge that even with power, he was not invincible.
He had survived, but just barely. The encounter with the drake had taught him a harsh lesson: the creatures of this world were not just physically stronger; their senses and abilities made them nearly unstoppable. He would need more than fire to challenge them. He would need strategy, allies, and perhaps, a way to turn their own strengths against them. As he lay there, hidden in the shadows, he made a silent vow: he would not just survive; he would find a way to change the balance of power, no matter how long it took or how many times he almost died in the process.