Gabriel found himself floating on the surface of the water, gasping for breath. His limbs ached, his body battered and bruised from the encounter. The dragon was gone—for now—but the pain lingered like a brand. The water around him shimmered faintly, rippling with residual magic. Space itself felt… off. Warped.
With the last of his strength, he swam toward the distant shore, each stroke heavier than the last, as if the world resisted his presence.
But his respite was brief.
As he dragged himself onto the jagged rocks, coughing and shivering, a massive shadow stirred beneath the surface. The water trembled. Then, with a roar that split the cavern like thunder, the abyssal dragon rose again—its eyes glowing with malevolent light, its wings unfurling like the night sky itself.
Gabriel barely had time to react. The dragon lunged, jaws snapping shut where he had been just moments before. He rolled aside, heart pounding, lungs burning. The battle resumed with brutal intensity—magic clashing against scale, will against might.
Time lost meaning. Minutes bled into hours. Gabriel fought with everything he had, but the dragon was relentless. Every blow he landed was answered with tenfold fury. His strength waned. His vision blurred. His body screamed for rest.
And still, the dragon did not kill him.
Its attacks were precise, devastating—but not fatal. It was toying with him. Testing him. Savoring his struggle.
Gabriel's knees buckled. He summoned the last flickers of his magic, but something inside him shifted. The air around him fractured—like glass under pressure. Light bent. Sound warped. The space between him and the dragon rippled unnaturally.
He didn't cast a spell. He tore a line through the air.
A thin, shimmering rift opened before him—silent, razor-sharp. It lashed out like a blade, slicing across the dragon's flank. The beast roared, more in surprise than pain, as the wound didn't bleed—it vanished.
Gabriel staggered, stunned by what he'd done. The world around him felt unstable, like it was holding its breath.
The dragon's eyes narrowed. It growled low, circling him now with a new wariness. "So… you've begun to awaken," it rumbled.
Gabriel didn't understand. His body trembled, his thoughts scattered. The dragon lunged again, and instinct took over. He stepped—not forward, but through. The space between where he stood and where he needed to be folded, and he emerged behind the dragon in a blink.
But the effort cost him. His body screamed in protest. Blood dripped from his nose. The Rift demanded more than he could give.
The dragon swatted him aside with a mighty blow, sending him crashing into the cavern wall. Pain exploded through his ribs, his breath knocked from his lungs.
He lay there, broken and trembling, as the dragon loomed over him.
Its eyes bore into his soul—ancient, intelligent, and utterly cold.
"Foolish human," the dragon rumbled, its voice like grinding stone. "Did you truly believe you could defeat me?"
Gabriel gasped, blood on his lips. He tried to speak, but no words came.
"You are but a speck," the dragon continued. "Insignificant. Weak. Your struggle is futile."
Gabriel's fingers curled into the stone beneath him. Desperation flared into defiance. "I... will not... give up," he whispered, voice hoarse and trembling.
The dragon's eyes narrowed. A low growl rumbled from its chest. "Then perish."
It raised a massive claw, the air crackling with power.
Gabriel's mind raced. This was it. His final moment. He closed his eyes—and the Rift answered.
A blinding surge of spatial energy erupted from him, the cavern bathed in searing light. The force shook the foundations of the dungeon. The dragon roared, a sound of fury and pain that echoed through the stone.
When the light faded, Gabriel lay motionless. The dragon, too, was weakened—its form flickering, unstable.
Gabriel's eyes fluttered open. He had given everything. And it still wasn't enough.
The dragon's voice returned, quieter now, but laced with cruel amusement. "You cannot defeat me. I have enjoyed this little game. But now… accept your fate."
Its form shimmered, shrinking, twisting. Scales gave way to pale skin. Wings folded into a flowing cloak. The beast became a man—tall, barefoot, cloaked in shadow. His eyes still glowed with that same eerie light, but now they held something deeper: wisdom, detachment, judgment.
Gabriel stared, barely able to lift his head. "Who... who are you?"
The figure regarded him with calm indifference. "I am the guardian of this realm," he said, voice smooth and resonant. "I am neither friend nor foe. I protect what must be protected."
Gabriel's mind reeled. "Why didn't you kill me?"
The guardian's gaze sharpened. "Because I am not your enemy. You showed resolve. And you carry the Rift. That alone makes you dangerous."
Gabriel's voice cracked. "What do you want from me?"
"Nothing," the figure said. "Leave this place. Your journey is far from over."
He turned, vanishing into the shadows.
Gabriel forced himself to his knees. "Wait!" he called out, voice raw. "How did you know what I was looking for?"
The guardian's voice echoed from the darkness.
"If you return, you will face my wrath again."
And then—silence.
Gabriel was alone.
The cavern pressed in around him, vast and empty. The water stilled. The echoes faded.
"An outsider," he whispered to himself.
The word stung. But it did not break him.
He pushed himself to his feet, unsteady but unyielding. The pain was still there. The doubt. The fear. But so was the Rift.
And he would not let it die.