Vale and Eskar stood in silence, staring at the hunched man before them.
Vale's eyes were wide, his thoughts spiraling chaotically.
'Did I really just hear that correctly?'
Slowly, he shifted his gaze toward Eskar. Unlike him, Eskar had already recovered from the shock. His posture straightened, and his expression sharpened with curiosity rather than disbelief. After a brief pause, Eskar opened his mouth.
"Wait," he said carefully. "If you're the strongest… then how strong are you exactly?"
Drago regarded them with an indifferent, almost bored gaze. After a moment, he sighed.
"I lied," he said flatly.
The words hung in the air.
"I am the strongest in title alone," Drago continued after a brief pause. "It's a political matter, nothing more."
Vale frowned, confusion immediately replacing shock.
"Then why hold the title at all," he asked, "if you aren't actually the strongest?"
Drago didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted forward, unfocused, as if he were looking far beyond the sandstone walls and ancient carvings.
"The one hundred and twenty-third king gave me that title," he said at last.
"His reign was absolute. His power unmatched by those who came after. Even now, centuries later, the authority of his word still lingers."
Vale clicked his tongue softly, dissatisfied.
"That's not what I meant," he said, locking eyes with Drago. "Were you ever truly the strongest?"
Drago stopped.
For a moment, the air itself seemed to tense.
Then he turned slowly, his cold gaze settling directly on Vale.
"I was," he said. "Many times."
Vale swallowed.
"Then… how strong were you?"
Something changed.
Drago's eyes widened ever so slightly, and then the color shifted. A deep, unnatural crimson began to bloom within them, spreading like blood in water.
"Look into my eyes," Drago said quietly.
Vale felt a chill crawl down his spine.
"Why don't you see for yourself?"
Before Vale could react, his gaze locked onto Drago's.
The world collapsed.
His chest constricted violently, breath tearing in and out of his lungs in shallow, frantic gasps. His vision warped, bending and twisting as if reality itself were folding inward. Vale staggered back,
and pain exploded through his leg.
It felt as though he had stepped onto a thousand blades at once.
Vale cried out, barely managing to keep his balance. His vision snapped behind him, and his blood ran cold.
A dragon.
A colossal, nightmarish silhouette rose behind him, its maw opening impossibly wide, fangs like jagged mountains, ready to swallow him whole. Its presence crushed down on his mind like a physical weight.
'What, what is happening?!'
Drago watched him calmly, utterly indifferent, before finally closing his eyes and turning away.
"That should be enough," he said.
Vale collapsed to one knee, sand pressing into his armor as his breath came in ragged, broken pulls. His heart hammered violently against his ribs. Slowly, trembling, he lifted his gaze toward Drago.
"Are you…" Vale hesitated, then forced the words out.
"Are you stronger than Dagon?"
Drago stopped.
He turned sharply, and for the first time, his cold mask cracked.
Anger, raw and restrained, burned in his eyes.
"That bastard died a long time ago," he said through clenched teeth. "Don't compare me to him."
Vale's eyes widened.
"That's a lie!" he snapped.
Eskar remained to the side, tense but silent, watching the exchange carefully.
Vale forced himself upright, pain still lingering in his limbs.
"He isn't dead," Vale shouted. "He saved us, just weeks ago! There's no way he's gone!"
Drago's expression twisted, disdain and fury flashing across his face.
Without another word, he turned away and began walking, abandoning the conversation entirely.
As he did, his voice carried back, sharp and bitter.
"Yeah? Then maybe he should've stayed down and died. That man is an irredeemable monster."
Vale ground his teeth and followed, anger flaring hot in his chest.
"So you did know him?!" Vale called out. "Are you his enemy or something?!"
Drago paused mid-step and glanced back, his expression unreadable.
"I suppose you could put it that way," he said flatly.
"We never did see eye to eye."
He turned away again.
"Now drop the subject. Talking about that bastard leaves a worse-than-bad taste in my mouth."
Vale slowed, his steps faltering.
He stared down at his hands, fingers curling slowly as he took a deep breath, forcing the anger down. He didn't fully understand why, but Dagon lingered in his thoughts. Something about the man felt deeply wrong, deeply tragic.
Dagon had saved them. Risked himself without hesitation.
And yet Drago spoke of him as if he were nothing but a monster.
Vale wanted to argue. Wanted to demand answers. But as the tension drained from his body, he stopped himself. Understanding Drago's side felt impossible, but pushing further would only deepen the divide.
Then a hand rested gently on his shoulder.
Vale turned to see Eskar beside him.
Eskar gave him a small, understanding smile and continued walking.
"I get it," Eskar said quietly. He paused, glancing back to make sure Vale heard him.
"But there's clearly history there. Whatever it is… it's not something we should pry into right now."
Vale sighed, nodding reluctantly. A faint, forced smile tugged at his lips as he followed.
They were close now.
With every step, the temple loomed larger, its presence pressing down on them like an unspoken judgment. It took only a few minutes before they stood before the colossal entrance doors, towering slabs of ancient stone carved with symbols worn smooth by time.
Drago stopped.
Vale and Eskar halted a heartbeat later, following his lead more out of instinct than understanding. For a moment, nothing happened. No sound. No movement. Just silence and the slow whisper of wind brushing against sandstone.
Vale frowned and shifted his attention to the temple itself.
Up close, its structure was even more imposing. The building was circular in shape, resembling a colossal colosseum carved directly from the desert's bones. There were no windows, only vast, uninterrupted sandstone walls covered in carvings. The markings varied wildly: worms and centipedes twisted across the stone, dragons spread massive wings toward the sky, lizards, lions, tigers, and countless other beasts roared upward in frozen defiance.
Each figure looked as though it were crying out to the heavens.
Beneath the carvings ran lines of text etched deep into the stone, written in a strange, unreadable language that made Vale's eyes ache if he stared too long.
As Vale studied the walls, Eskar finally broke the silence.
"Why aren't we going in?" he asked, confusion clear in his voice.
Drago turned slightly. Whatever restrained fury he had carried earlier was gone now, replaced by calm certainty.
"She hasn't let us in yet."
Vale raised a brow.
"She?"
Drago nodded toward the doors.
"The ruler of this place," he said evenly. "The temple's High Priestess."
The moment the words left his mouth, the ground trembled.
A deep, resonant groan echoed outward as stone ground against stone. Vale's head snapped up just in time to see the massive doors begin to separate. The gap widened slowly, reluctantly, like the temple itself was deciding whether or not to acknowledge them.
Then the wind hit.
A violent gust erupted from within the opening, slamming into them like a hurricane. Vale staggered back, raising an arm to shield his face as sand and grit tore past him. The roar of wind mixed with the thunderous grinding of stone, filling the air with chaos.
For several long seconds, the world was nothing but sound and force.
Then, silence came.
The wind died. The grinding ceased.
Before them stood two fully opened gates.
Beyond them lay nothing but absolute darkness.
No torchlight. No glow. No depth. Just a void that swallowed all sight beyond the threshold.
Vale swallowed and glanced at Drago, who had already begun walking forward without hesitation. The old man crossed into the darkness and vanished as if the shadows had consumed him whole.
Vale turned to Eskar.
Eskar met his gaze, hesitated for only a moment, then nodded.
"Come on," he said quietly, stepping inside.
Vale exhaled slowly and followed.
"We are trusting this way too much," he muttered under his breath.
The darkness swallowed him instantly.
Within seconds, Vale could no longer see either of them. The air felt colder here, heavy, still and unnatural.
"Guys?" Vale called out. "Where are you?"
No answer came.
Then the doors slammed shut behind him.
The sound was deafening, a thunderous boom that echoed through the chamber and vibrated through his bones. Vale spun around just as the last sliver of light vanished, sealing him in complete darkness.
His hand instinctively went to the haft of his spear.
His pulse quickened.
Then,
A voice cut through.
Soft and feminine.
"I welcome thee, great challenger."
Vale reacted on instinct alone.
He drew his spear and swung it in a wide arc, the blade cutting through empty air with a sharp hiss. Nothing was there.
A cold chill ran down his spine.
"Challenger?" Vale muttered under his breath.
That wasn't right. They hadn't come to challenge anyone. They came for shelter, for answers, for rest.
Before he could think further, light erupted around him.
Torches flared to life all at once, lining the chamber in a blazing ring. Vale blinked rapidly, his eyes stinging as the sudden illumination revealed his surroundings.
He stood in the center of a vast, circular arena.
The floor was carved stone, scarred and cracked as if it had seen countless battles. High walls surrounded the chamber, etched with the same beasts and symbols as the exterior, but here, they felt closer. Watching.
Vale turned sharply.
Drago was gone.
Eskar was gone.
He was alone.
Across the arena stood a woman.
She was tall, slender, with pale white skin and long brunette hair that fell over a dark robe. A black blindfold covered her eyes completely, smooth and unadorned, as if sight itself had been taken from her, or denied.
She faced him directly.
Vale stared at her, disbelief and dread mixing in his chest.
"…You've got to be kidding me,"