The Forsaken Hero

The tunnel yawned open, revealing a cavern so vast I nearly gasped. The walls stretched half a mile away, the ceiling high enough to brush the mountain’s peak. My eyes traced the faint outline of the tunnel we came through, a bulge in the cavern’s walls beginning at the top and lazily spiraling down to the entrance I hid behind. Yet, despite the grandeur of the cavern, my attention was inevitably drawn to the colossal figure at the center.

The creature before me could only be described as a dragon. It possessed a tail, wings, four clawed limbs, and a sinuous neck. Its scales, a fiery crimson, were interlaced with icy, incandescent veins, which cast a dim glow that nearly reached the cave entrance. Despite its immense size, easily exceeding three hundred feet, the creature lay coiled in a defensive posture. Every few seconds, deep, rasping groans shook the cavern, sending prolonged shudders through its immense form.

Dozens of figures, shrouded in dark robes, circled the dragon, channeling their mana into intricate magic circles that bound the creature. Although their faces were hidden, the telltale bumps in their hoods could only be horns, which marked them as Demonkin. It was the first time I’d personally seen my own kind since the warehouse, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of frustration. Why couldn’t demonkin live peacefully? If they could avoid such dark paths, I wouldn’t have to endure this torment.

I managed to regain my calm with several deep breaths, choosing to focus instead on their efforts. The complex runes of the sixth-circle spell consisted of raw curse magic. Similar to the Slave Crest, it sent pulse after pulse of agony into the creature, driving the dragon into its helpless state. I shuddered, suddenly considering the church’s crests to be somewhat... humane. Whatever agony could subdue a dragon would surely be fatal for me.

One of the figures stepped forward, close enough to touch the dragon’s snout, and threw back his cowl. Arrogance dripped from his words as he taunted the dragon.

”How the mighty have fallen. To think you were so eager to claim their power for yourself. The arrogance of dragons knows no bounds.”

The dragon’s eyelids slit open, revealing bloodshot eyes stained with madness. A low growl shook the room, causing dust to drift down from the ceiling, but the man only laughed.

”Pathetic. The summoning may have failed, but your arrogance has made you the tool we’ll use to bring destruction to this land. End this pretense and give us your power, and I promise you a painless death.”

He flicked his hand and the cultists’ chants intensified, bringing another round of muffled roars from the dragon. The curse magic arced across its body, surging to the point they scorched the dragon’s scales with their intensity.

The incomprehensible pain of the slave crest haunted my body in a series of reminiscent attacks. My faded scars tingled in empathy, and I winced, the memory of my own suffering clawing at the edge of my mind.

A sharp pain in my palms brought me back to the present, and I looked down to see blood dripping between my clenched fingers. I winced, opening my fists to see shallow cuts where my nails had pierced my skin. I healed them with a spell and tore my eyes away from the scene before me. I’d seen enough.

When I shared the information with the others, Fyren shook his head, his expression dark. ”Capturing an infernal dragon? Unbelievable.

”Soltair rubbed his chin. ”Are you sure it was infernal? It seemed pretty weak to me.”

Fyren nodded, voice uncharacteristically low. ”Of course. While their appearance is normally twisted beyond recognition, creatures like dragons remain relatively unchanged. But the veiny energy tainting its body is proof enough. I’m just wondering what kind of spell would be capable of subduing a dragon of that size.”

In the month or so that I’d known him, I’d never heard the adventurer sound nervous before now. Even when the Curse Demon put him on death’s door, he only seemed reluctant, or disappointed.

”What’s the plan, then?” Trithe asked, toying with her the ends of her hair.

”We need to save it,” I insisted, my heart aching for the creature.

Soltair, skeptical, countered, ”It’s a dragon, and infernal at that. Wasn’t our goal to eliminate it? Why not let them finish the job first and then deal with the demonkin?”

Fyren froze mid-nod and looked at me, eyes flashing. ”Did you overhear anything else?”

”Just that they were waiting for the dragon to submit to them.”

”In that case,” Fyren said with determination, ”we can’t delay. If they intended to kill it, there would be no point in using curse magic to torture it. Even if the magical flash freeze was a result of the failed summoning, we can’t discount the possibility that the dragon itself is the source of that mana.”

Soltair, deep in thought, questioned, ”But if the dragon was truly tainted by infernal energy, why wouldn’t it cooperate with the demonkin?”

”It likely didn’t agree with their terms. From what Xiviyah gathered, it’s still in control of its mind,” Fyren guessed.

”So if we free it,” Soltair began, a grin forming, ”We can-”

”No,” Fyren interjected, his tone firm. ”Releasing it would be a temporary solution. Even if it retains its clarity, the infernal corruption will slowly erode its mind and intentions. Dragons have long lifespans, so it might not be in our lifetime, but eventually, it could become a catastrophic threat.”

”Alright,” Soltair sighed, giving in. ”Let’s proceed. How strong were the cultists?” He turned to me.

I closed my eyes, recalling the scene before responding, ”Between the fourth and sixth levels. Their leader seemed to be at the peak of the sixth, but it was hard to tell amidst all the magic.”

Soltair nodded and quickly devised a plan. ”Trithe and I will deal with their leader while you two handle the rest. Afterward, we’ll assist you in taking down the others. Let’s refrain from using overly powerful spells to avoid bringing down the cavern. With their power levels, we shouldn’t need them anyway.”

Fyren couldn’t help but suppress a chuckle, covering his mouth. ”We’ll try to save you some action. Last time, we were waiting for you, weren’t we?”

”This is different,” Soltair retorted. ”Trithe and I have evolved. We’ve been training, remember?”

”So you keep reminding me,” the adventurer replied, his gaze shifting to me. Amusement danced in his eyes, as though he were enjoying some unspoken irony.

I shrugged and gripped my staff, ready for what lay ahead. Whatever their banter meant, it didn’t concern me. The suffering dragon consumed my thoughts, and I was determined to save it, even if it meant ending its life. No being deserved to endure such agony. If only magic like this was impossible...

With our plan set, I extinguished the light and cloaked us in another Sound Ward. Using the subtle connection provided by the Nexus, which allowed us to sense each other’s presence, I led the party down the tunnel until the soft blue light of the magic revealed the chamber ahead.

Upon witnessing the dragon, Soltair’s eyes widened in awe. Though his words were silenced by the ward, he seemed to mouth, ”Awesome!”

The group quickly assessed the chamber, committing the positions of the demonkin to memory and preparing for combat. But, as they unsheathed their weapons, a burst of light erupted from the magic circle, and the dragon lifted its head and roared.

”At last!” the demonkin leader exclaimed, ”Your pitiful defiance ends now. Serve me!”

The dragon roared once more, but its resistance had waned. As the curse magic dissipated, it slumped to the ground, head bowed before the man. The contrast in size almost bordered on the absurd, were it not for the direness of the situation.

Fyren’s face paled, and he gestured for me to drop the ward. ”We need to act. Forget limitations and focus on the dragon!”

Soltair nodded, his earlier bravado giving way to a serious understanding. ”Solar Flare!”

I gasped, my muscles trembling at the sudden deployment of a seventh-circle spell. Thankfully, I had already fortified the Nexus with defenses, so all I needed to do was step behind the Sun Hero.

”What...?” the cultist leader began, glancing upward as Sun Magic gathered near the cavern’s ceiling.

Cultists stared up in shock as magic circles organized and concentrated their power. When they realized the impending danger, it was too late. The cavern trembled as the seventh-level spell descended, engulfing the cultists and dragon in a blinding pillar of light.