Chapter 58: The Real One
Zmey had always blamed himself for his family's perish.
'...I have always been slow to react. We could have stopped the Minister of Defence if I had told Dad his dark secrets the moment I found out.
Not doing so led to that damned old man framing my father, leading to the capture of the entire Stonewood family. To the beheading of the family head, the enslavement of the rest of the family... AND... the tragic death of the family's heir!'
Time seemed to slow down as the wolf jumped towards him. Its claws glinted like silver in his eyes. He halted and drove his sword to meet its attack.
'If I haven't gained freedom and revenge, why shouldn't I give everything my all? Why should I be a weakling? Tell me!'
Just as their attacks were about to collide, everything blurred...
"Uh?"
Zmey's voice echoed.
He turned around. This was different from the field he was in. His mouth refused to close as he realised. This place that enveloped him without warning was ancient.
It had strange designs on the dark stone. The walls were of a strange nature that azure lights brightened up and died down in certain places.
Zmey glanced forward to see the back of someone in a red dress which trailed the ground behind them. They sat in a meditative manner, each look at them causing Zmey's heart to pound.
He wanted to get a better look, but a mysterious entity tightened around his neck when he tried. He squeezed his heart so hard that he would almost have fallen down.Their cold, authoritative voice came.
"The power of dragons is unique. And magic itself is mind-blowing without a doubt. You're much stronger to be completely vulnerable despite the loss of power.
Accept whatever version life presents to you to mutate with it. Search yourself. Because the power of all beings doesn't lie in the body, but in the soul. The body deteriorates after death, but the soul remains intact.
Search your soul. Your soul is your willpower. And that willpower is your weapon. Go back, and kill the necessary nobodies..."
Zmey gaped again. "Uh?"
....
Swoosh!
The air wafted on his face!
His lungs froze. And Zmey opened his eyes to meet the claws inches from his face.
The feeling was strange. It felt as though he hadn't been anywhere before. Whatever...
He grounded his mind. He clasped his sword with a tighter grip.
'Use your willpower! Fight! Don't lose, damn it!'
Pwoosh!
Flames spread from his fingertips immediately.
They covered his sword in an instant, casting an orange gleam on the wolf.
'Fight! Fight!'
The sword missed the wolf's claw by an inch, nearing towards its neck. The claws neared his, too.
'... You can do this! You're more than a weak mage! Fight whatever! Continue fighting!'
...
Screech!
The sword felt hard to touch. His mouth gaped. He stared there. The neck bones weren't as flexible as they should be.
Somewhat of a wolf made of metal stronger than steel! Nonetheless, Zmey gripped the sword tighter.
'Just this once... Cut it through! Cut down the bloody neck, dragon!'
"Aaaaahhh!"
His eyes enlarged as though they would fall out of the socket. Something cold touched his neck.
The wall of the wolf's neck remained hard... Not bulging. He pressed down.... Still hard. Then soft. The sword passed through.
Flames spread out more.
Lys, in the distance, creased his brows. He couldn't wrap his head around this. "Isn't he supposed to be able to create fireballs alone?"
Zmey yelled, "Die!"
...
Then it's much softer.
Slash!
Splash!
Zmey looked forward for a while. Then he sighed with relief. Immediately, he stepped forward. The body of the wolf crashed behind him.
It lay in a pool of blood, its head separated from the rest of the body. At that moment, he froze.
Before his eyes, the wolf closed in, surrounding Spark completely. Spark was bleeding heavily, unable to move any more.
Blood seeped down its legs and there were fragments of minor parts scattered around.
The wolf pounced on Spark.
Spark's body crashed backwards a few metres. Then, the wolf's body burned with a bluish energy and a high killer intent.
The distance was more than he could cover to stop the wolf from killing Spark. He clenched his fist.
'Spark...'
The wolf's limb slashed the air towards the dying elemental. It looked up with such faintness that its serpentine eyes showed almost no presence of life. Numb, as though given up to fate.
Phroom!
Something was approaching. The wolf was intelligent enough to realise that. It looked forward....
In an interval of a nanosecond, something flashed before its eyes and closed in. It gave him no room to breathe, appearing very tiny yet orange. Stab!
That moment, the wolf's body crashed to the ground.
Meanwhile, the broken sword, its handle etched with a diamond design, had pierced its torso. Blood spread out in a soft manner, overflowing. It took up more space than the creature's size....
Lys rubbed his chin, smiling in a soft manner towards Zmey.
"This amateur... I see."
Zmey stood in the middle of the dead beasts, the moving air a silent melody to his ears. He looked at his bloodied, scarred palms.
He affirmed in a conclusive tone, "It's no doubt that that was Zmey Ashbane. The real one. I know him too well to be mistaken."