Chapter 22: First Blood
CRASH.
The skylight shattered.
The agent’s head snapped up. Glass rained down like frozen stars, catching moonlight as it fell. Silver light flooded the warehouse, bouncing off each shards. Drowning the lantern’s weak glow.
Through the cascading shards, a figure descended. Black cloak billowing. Boots angled downward. Face hidden in shadow.
But it’s eyes...
Crimson and gold. Burning through the darkness like torches.
The agent’s breath caught in his chest.
For a heartbeat, the falling figure seemed suspended. Caught between shadow and light. Between the warehouse’s darkness and the moon’s cold illumination.
Is this danger? Is this mercy?
The boots came for his face.
The agent quickly threw himself sideways. His movements birth from experience, His shoulder hit the floor. He rolled, came up with sword, half-drawn.
The figure landed where he’d been standing. Wood splintered under the impact. The sound of boots striking planks echoed through the warehouse like a judge’s gavel.
The agent completed his draw. Blade free. Steel catching a mix of moon and fire light.
The Third Prince straightened from his crouch. Dark cloak settling around his shoulders. Moonlight streaming through the broken skylight behind him created a halo of silver. But his face remained in shadow.
Only his eyes were visible. Crimson and gold. Eyes of the dragon.
"You’re the Third Prince."
"Auryn Ignisar"
The voice that answered was cold. Empty of warmth.
"And you’re trespassing."
The agent’s grip tightened on his sword. His heart hammered in his chest but his hands remained steady. Years of training and discipline overriding fear.
"I was invited."
"By someone who doesn’t own this warehouse."
The prince drew a dagger. The blade was plain. An ordinary weapon, nothing ceremonial.
The agent settled into his stance. Weight balanced between his feet. Sword angled defensively across his body. He’d faced nobles before. Pampered fools who thought a title meant skill.
But those eyes. Dragon blood. True dragon blood.
This won’t be easy.
He tried to rile the prince. "Vaedon sends his regards."
The prince’s expression didn’t change.
"And you to your demise..." His calm voice retorted.
The agent lunged. A quick horizontal slash aimed for the throat. Fast and precise. A killing stroke he’d executed two dozen times in his career.
The prince twisted. Steel passed inches from his neck. The agent felt the position where the blade should have met flesh but found only air.
Too fast...
The prince’s dagger came up. Caught the agent’s follow-through strike. Sparks flared as metal met metal. The impact vibrated up the agent’s arm.
They separated. Three paces between them. He began circling. Resetting his stance while he controlled his breathing.
Third Prince. Looks younger than reports suggested. But his reflexes—
He had dragon blood. They said he was a drake with fire magic. But no one mentioned this speed and precision.
Focus. He’s still young. Lacks experience and training. Weaker Prince for a reason
The agent feinted left. A quick shoulder drop suggested commitment. But his weight remained centered.
The prince didn’t bite. Didn’t shift to intercept the false attack.
He read it?
The agent committed right. His real attack in a trio of rhythm strikes. Overhead slash then a quick down diagonal. Ending with a thrust.
The prince parried the first two. His dagger use was controlled. Not wasting any movement. Each deflection minimal but enough.
The third strike caught the cloak fabric near the shoulder. The agent felt resistance. He pulled but only tore the cloth. Missing flesh.
He pressed for a fourth strike. Another thrust aimed at the gap he’d created.
The prince sidestepped. The agent’s blade found empty air again. His momentum carried him forward. Overextending by inches.
Those inches were fatal.
Pain lanced across his forearm. Sharp and precise. He felt warm blood before he saw it. The prince’s counter-slash had opened his sword arm.it was shallow but blood seeped through torn sleeve.
First blood!
The agent stepped back. Glanced at the wound. Not deep enough to hinder grip. But a warning.
He’s too fast and..disciplined. That counter was textbook. Has he started training. There was no report on this yet.
"Dragon fire," the agent said. I have to get him talking. Buy seconds to reassess.
"You’ll use it eventually."
The prince’s steps came to an halt. "As you wish." His right hand ignited.
Yellow flames erupted across his palm. It was small and controlled. The fire danced across his palm effortlessly.
The agent had seen it before but never this controlled for someone they claimed was weak.
The prince hurled it.
The fireball crossed the distance in a heartbeat. Carrying trailing embers.
The agent dove left and fire splashed against wooden crates behind where he’d stood. Wood splintered. Flames caught and began to spread.
Heat bloomed across the warehouse. Smoke began to thicken. The agent came up coughing, eyes watering.
"You missed" he managed. Still trying to stir something.
The prince said nothing. Simply conjured another flame. Smaller this time. Held it in his open palm, letting the threat hang visibly.
Ranged warfare. I asked for this but I can’t match that. I have to close distance quickly. The agent moved.
He burst forward. Closed the gap before another fireball could form. He launched five rapid strikes in quick succession.
The prince parried the first four. Dagger met sword. Steel shrieked. But the defense was perfect.
The fifth strike came as an improvised kick that caught the prince’s ribs. It was solid impact.
The prince grunted and stepped back.
Finally getting a hit, the agent pressed. Seeing the opportunity. Fighting through the pain in his arms. He tried three more strikes. Testing the rib damage.
The prince blocked. But his left hand went to his side briefly. Protecting the injury.
An old wound. The ambush he survived. Probably still healing.Thats my advantage.
The agent feinted high and struck low. Blade aimed for the injured ribs.
The prince twisted, blade grazed but didn’t bite deep. Drew blood through torn fabric.
They separated again. Both breathing harder now. Smoke thickening.
The prince moved through it like he belonged there. A deepening silhouette manifesting as crimson and gold glowed within the fire and smoke. Like they were home.
Bloody Dragon
The Agent thought while his eyes narrowed. It was now or never.