The wind howled like a dirge over the jagged cliffs of Myrrhal's Edge, where shadows writhed beneath the crimson white glow of the Red Moon. The light bathed the broken lands in an eerie luminescence, casting long silhouettes over shattered stone and bone. Amid the darkness, a deep rumble shattered the silence not thunder, but a roar, ancient and wrathful.
Kael'Vorn stood atop a crumbling pillar, cloak torn by wind and soot, armor glinting with dull obsidian shine. His cape billowed behind him, bearing an unrecognized sigil: thirteen black thorns circling a blood-red moon. It pulsed with faint light, as though responding to the threat that coiled beneath the earth.
From the abyss of the valley below, the dragon rose.
It was no ordinary beast. Its scales were forged like onyx plates thick, coarse, and jagged, as if chiseled from the volcanic depths. The black armor covered its massive form, its wings vast and torn by past wars, yet still powerful enough to blot out the moon. Crimson sparks danced across its body like flickering embers, and its eyes glowed a furnace orange, filled with timeless hatred.
Kael'Vorn exhaled slowly, tightening his grip. The dragon hissed and surged upward, earth cracking beneath its immense weight. Kael leapt from the pillar just as the beast struck. Its clawed foreleg cleaved the stone in two, the air shrieking from the force.
Kael tumbled mid-air, the dragon's roar reverberating through his bones. Then came the strike a tail like a living mountain whipped toward him. It struck.
The world spun. He was flung across miles, crashing through stone ridges and soil, his armored body skidding like a falling star. Before he collided with the final rock wall, Kael whispered a single word:
"Zer'Rath."
The glyph on his chestplate flared. He vanished.
In an instant, he reappeared — high above the dragon's head. Gravity pulled him down like a spear.
"Orr'Kalos."
From nothing, a sword appeared in his hand massive and imposing. Black as the void, yet veined with flowing red light, the blade was as tall as Kael himself. He gripped it as though it weighed nothing. His descent was swift, silent, fatal.
The dragon twisted, but Kael was faster. With impossible precision, he struck its shoulder. Sparks burst as the blade clashed against the beast's thick scale. It roared and reared, wings flapping with hurricane force. Kael spun mid-air, landing on the dragon's back.
Claws slashed. The beast tried to dislodge him, but Kael blurred teleporting inches from death each time. A tail crashed down, and Kael flickered again, now beneath the beast.
He slashed upward a long cut glowing red. The dragon countered with a stream of fire. It wasn't normal flame, but soulfire white-hot, infused with magic meant to melt through steel and will.
Kael raised his sword.
The blade glowed, absorbing the heat, then unleashed it in a spiral arc. Fire met fire the clash igniting the valley into a brief daylight of destruction. Rocks split. The heavens trembled.
The dragon lunged, jaws open wide. Its fangs could crush towers.
Kael teleported again, again, again dancing around the beast in a blur of shadows and red gleams. Each slash from Orr'Kalos left burning runes across the dragon's armor, wearing it down piece by piece.
Then, he saw it.
A spot — small, near the chest. A gap in the scales. Flesh.
Kael's eyes narrowed.
He whispered another command. "Zer'Rath."
A large boulder from miles away vanished and reappeared above the dragon, crashing into its spine. It stumbled. That moment was enough.
Kael vanished and reappeared below the beast.
"Orr'Kalos," he said again. But this time, not a sword.
"A spear."
The weapon shimmered into existence glowing, long, surrounded by floating runes in a language lost to time. Its shaft was blood-red, its tip forged from something not of this world. As Kael grasped it, the symbols began to rotate.
He twisted the top.
The runes spiraled, then locked in place.
"Get bigger."
The spear expanded in a flash, becoming as massive as a mountain. Kael threw it with all his might — and Boom.
It pierced the exposed heart.
A sound unlike any other filled the sky. Not pain not death but finality.
The spear exploded into red light, leaving behind a gaping hole through the dragon's chest. Its wings spasmed. Its limbs thrashed. Then it fell, crashing to the valley with a quake that silenced the world.
Kael stood amid the stillness, summoning Orr'Kalos once more. With a single swing, he severed the dragon's head, ending the battle completely.
The body smoked. The air shimmered.
From behind a nearby ridge, several armored men stepped forward. They had hidden, watching too afraid to interfere. Their cloaks bore emblems of various guilds from distant continents, and none of them recognized the symbol on Kael's cape.
"Who... who is he?" one of them whispered.
"That sigil... it's not from any known House."
"He fought like a god."
Kael turned slowly, his crimson eyes reflecting the Red Moon.
His expression was unreadable. Silent.
He said nothing as he walked past the dragon's corpse, cloak trailing, the thirteen thorns and red moon still glowing faintly.
In the world of Aetherion, there were names that echoed through myth and ash but Vel'Zareth... that name had long been forgotten.
Until now.