The Slave Auction House, Lesomagiya Forest
The huge red head of the Pale Wyrm slowly drew back, disappearing through the torn roof.
"KKKKKKRRAAAAAAAGGHHHHHHHHH!!"
Groza's breath shook.
"The Pale Wyrm… it was supposed to be dead…"
THUMP.
The floor quaked. Dust rained from the ceiling.
Groza stumbled, clutching the wall.
"This is bad… I need to get out."
He turned toward the entrance he'd used earlier. Around him, chaos spread—the slaves on stage and in nearby cells screamed and thrashed, desperate to break free.
Inside one cell, a young girl lay bound—hands and feet tied, a cloth over her face. Her brown hair brushed the stone floor, her eyes wide and wet with fear.
"Do you hear that roar? It's true—just like the guards said. The Pale Wyrm's alive, tearing this place apart,"
a bald man muttered beside her, chains biting into his wrists.
"Maybe Mother Seraphyx revived it to free us… by his grace,"
an old man rasped, his frail, bruised body trembling.
The bald man turned to the girl.
"You—what was your name? Julie, right? I'll loosen your ropes. When you're free, grab the keys by that door. Hurry."
He fumbled at her bindings with bloodied fingers, the chains clinking with each movement.
Julie's voice quivered.
"I… I can go home…?"
"Yes! We can all go home. Just get the keys—we'll make it to the Arian Knights. They'll protect us,"
the old man said, glancing toward the corridor.
"Yes… I will help."
Julie wiped her tears, crawling toward the door. Her heart pounded as she reached for the ring of keys.
KRRAAAASHHHH!!
The wall exploded inward.
A massive serpentine body of blood-red scales tore through the dome. Shards of stone and metal erupted in every direction as the auction house convulsed.
"Aaaah!"
Julie dropped to her knees, arms over her head as debris rained down.
Then—stillness.
The Pale Wyrm's immense body stopped moving, half-coiled through the wreckage.
"Haaah… hhhhaaa… hhhhaa…"
Julie panted wildly, trembling. Slowly, she stood.
"I… I'm fine…" she whispered, forcing a tiny smile.
Then she turned.
Blood splattered across the wall.
Flesh—shredded, scattered, pressed into the stone.
Bodies torn apart beyond recognition.
"N-no… nooo!"
Julie's knees buckled. She fell backward.
"AaaaaAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"
Her scream echoed through the broken dome.
She crawled backward, away from the ruin, hands slipping in blood.
Thuk!
Her back hit the door. She spun, seized the handle, and shoved it open.
"N-No… I…"
Her breath came in ragged bursts.
"I don't want to die—!"
And she ran.
Julie's panicked gaze darted across the ruins, desperate for an exit.
The bodies scattered around her, the torn walls of the corridor, the stench of blood soaking her tattered clothes — it all blurred together, choking her senses.
At the main entrance, she saw a man standing frozen — sharp-featured, green-haired, his wide eyes reflecting terror.
Groza's breath caught as he stared ahead. The Pale Wyrm's colossal, scaled body covered the only visible way out, its sheer mass pressing against the shattered doorway.
"Mister!" Julie cried, stumbling toward him. She clutched his leg, her small frame trembling. "Please… help me."
Tears shimmered at the edge of her eyes but refused to fall — her fear was too tight to let them.
Groza's gaze didn't move. "It's useless… We can't leave," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, little one. I can't help you."
Julie's eyes widened. She turned toward the entrance, scanning every ridge of the Pale Wyrm's scales, searching for anything — anything.
"There!" she shouted suddenly, pointing. "That small gap — between the floor and its body!"
Groza leaned forward, squinting. "You're right… but if the Wyrm moves while we're under it, we'll be crushed." A bead of sweat slid down his temple.
"We're going to die either way," Julie said, voice trembling but steady with resolve. "At least let's try."
Groza hesitated — then nodded. "Alright." He reached for her hand. "Stay close."
They crouched low and began to slide through the narrow gap, inch by inch. The air beneath the creature was thick with dust and the scent of iron. There was barely enough room to crawl.
Julie's heart pounded. Every time the ground vibrated, she froze — expecting another roar, another collapse.
"There…" Groza whispered, spotting faint light ahead. "Quickly."
They crawled faster. A few seconds later, they emerged into open air, collapsing onto the dirt outside. Both were gasping, lungs burning.
"We're… out," Groza panted, gripping Julie's small, trembling hand.
Julie lifted her head, her voice small but sharp with fear.
"Mister… look."
Groza followed her gaze.
Up on the roof, something shifted — a shadow vast and alive.
Crunch.
A scream tore through the air, then another — sharp, human, and suddenly cut short.
Dust drifted down from above, carrying the copper sting of blood.
Groza's face went pale.
"Don't look," he whispered.
Julie's small hand tightened around his.
Above them, the Pale Wyrm fed.
Groza tightened his grip on Julie's trembling hand as he broke into a run.
"We need to get away."
"Wait—! I can't run that fas—ah!"
Julie stumbled, her foot catching on a root. She fell forward, scraping her knees on the forest floor. Groza halted instantly, glancing back in frustration and concern.
"I'm sorry. You're… probably much weaker than me right now," he muttered, eyes narrowing in thought.
Without another word, he crouched and gathered her into his arms, holding her close against his chest. Her breathing was shallow; her small frame shivered in his grasp.
"But we can't stop moving," he said quietly, more to himself than to her.
Behind them, the Pale Wyrm's colossal body contracted around the shattered dome, its scales grinding against stone and steel. The crushing noise carried across the forest like thunder — a grotesque symphony of destruction.
Deep within Lesomagiya Forest
"Haaahh… huff… puff…"
Groza's breath came ragged and hot. His boots sank into the mossy earth with each step, yet he didn't slow.
"Mister… I don't feel so good…" Julie's voice was faint; her face had turned pale as snow.
"The elemental energy here is thick," Groza said, glancing around warily. "I don't know why… but we can't stop. Not until we reach the capital. Bear with it a little longer."
Then, a roar split the still air — raw, ancient, and furious.
"RRRAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHH!"!!"
Julie flinched, clutching Groza's jacket. "No… Mister… it's back…"
"I know," Groza growled, sweat dripping from his chin. "But the trees are thinning. There must be an opening ahead — maybe we'll get a clearer view of what we're dealing with."
"Haa… huff… fuuuh…"
He kept running until the dense forest gave way to open sky. The trees parted, revealing a wide glade carpeted in soft grass. Gentle sunlight glimmered through the canopy, scattering gold over the petals of wildflowers that swayed in the wind.
At the center of the clearing stood an ancient tree — its bark rough and dark, its roots coiled like sleeping serpents. The air around it shimmered faintly, as if time itself bent in reverence.
Beneath the tree sat a man.
His crimson hair fell in untamed waves, glowing like molten metal in the light. Heat shimmered faintly from his body. His eyes, sharp and calm, carried the kind of weight that silenced storms. His fair skin seemed to gleam faintly — almost divine. He wore a loose red jacket over black trousers, a white sash knotted at his waist.
He was meditating. Completely still.
"You!" Groza shouted as he slowed to a stop beneath the great tree. "Red-haired man! The Pale Wyrm is alive — it's coming this way! You'll die if you stay here!"
The man did not stir.
"GRRRRAAAA-AAAAA-AAAALLLLL.!!"
The forest shook again. Julie clung tighter to Groza's arm, then turned toward the red-haired stranger, her voice trembling. "Please… listen to us! It'll kill you — we have to run!"
Branches snapped in the distance. Trees toppled as the Pale Wyrm's massive body tore through the forest, blood-red scales glinting between the trunks. Its golden slit eyes gleamed with hunger, horned crest scraping the canopy.
"It's too late…" Groza muttered, jaw clenched. "It's moving too fast — there's no escaping now."
Julie's voice cracked. "No… no no no… we should at least try—"
But her feet didn't move. Neither did Groza's.
Then came the sound —
SLASH.
THUMP.
The Pale Wyrm's head and body split cleanly apart.
A rain of dark blood fell over the clearing, steaming where it touched the ground.
Groza blinked in disbelief. "What…?"
Through the haze, a blade soared across the air — not steel, but pure, incandescent energy. It curved like a dragon's horn, glowing crimson, humming with restrained power.
The weapon spun gracefully before returning to the red-haired man's outstretched hand.
He opened his eyes. They gleamed like dying embers.
"So this is where that serpent crawled off to…" His tone was calm, almost weary. "It took some of my elemental essence, much like another that did… a hundred years ago."
He rose slowly, brushing a speck of blood from his sleeve. "Poor soul."
And then, as though he were never there, the man vanished — leaving only silence and the faint shimmer of heat where he'd stood.
Groza sank to his knees, still holding Julie close. "Who… was he?" he whispered.
Roselight Brothel — Red House District, Fourth Floor
A soft sigh escaped a beautiful man with pastel-pink hair as he sat on a silken bed, combing through his long strands. A white towel clung loosely to his shoulders.
"He moved without permission again…" he murmured, lips curving faintly into a smile. "What am I going to do with you, Ignarion?"
Snow Crooked Mountain — Arian
Above Crystal Reef Town, snow hung in the air as though frozen in time. The world here felt untouched — quiet, eternal.
Inside a small wooden temple, warm with firelight, Morven sat cross-legged on a thick carpet, sipping a bowl of vegetable soup.
"I hope he didn't make a mess this time," he said softly.
A small, lively girl with brown hair, bundled in warm clothes leaned closer, "Who are you talking about…?"
"Nothing Greta, I was talking to myself."