Chapter 313
Swish!
The hurried footsteps of several figures running barely registered over the cataclysmic clash happening far off in the distance.
The very air vibrated with the unseen impact of power, a constant, deep rumble that spoke of unimaginable destruction.
“Halt,” Draco’s voice echoed, bringing his familia to a stop.
His gaze swept the scorched earth, the splintered trees, and the gaping fissures that tore through the landscape like fresh wounds.
The scent of ozone and burnt earth hung heavy.
Unfurling his wings, wide spans of obsidian scales that shimmered even in the moonlight, Draco took to the skies.
He landed on a barely intact tree, its gnarled branches groaning under his weight, to survey the surroundings.
The distant roars of battling gods were louder here, a primal symphony of rage and power.
Ahead of the group, Draco spotted another massively distorted burning landscape.
The horizon pulsed with an angry, orange glow, showing the intensity of the ongoing titanomachy.
This new devastation would force them to take yet another detour from their goal.
He could already feel the precious minutes slipping away, each tick of the clock a potential cost to their goddess.
“Sigh, the Beol mountain range really is a mess. Hopefully, we don’t have to pay for this,” Draco muttered, his voice a low growl, upon seeing the level of destruction.
His expression was grim.
He knew there would be some level of collateral damage, but this… this was beyond anything he expected.
About thirty minutes earlier, the group had been in Edas village to the south of their current location.
They had been stuck in a horrible dilemma when their allies, the Astraea familia, suddenly lost their goddess.
In their emotionally unstable state, their grief-maddened eyes had turned to the Bahamut familia, seeing enemies where there were once allies.
They pointed their blades at Draco’s own.
Forced to make a decision, Draco had acted swiftly, with a heavy heart.
He decided to knock all of them unconscious, at least until they calmed down, until the grief and despair subsided enough for reason to return.
Without the blessing of their goddess, the Astraea familia, albeit decently strong, was no challenge for Draco’s warriors.
Subduing them was quick, brutal, but bloodless.
After securely putting them to rest, Draco divided up his familia.
He, Vasiliki, Dimitra, and Vasileios would go after their goddess, Bahamut.
Clair, Nikolaos, Michalis, and Eleni stayed behind, their duty to protect Edas village and watch over the unconscious Astraea familia, ensuring they came to no harm from the chaos.
One half to protect, the other to pursue.
“Draco nii,” Vasiliki called from below the tree, her voice a soft counterpoint to the distant din, snapping Draco from his thoughts.
He landed in front of her with a soft thud, his wings folding neatly against his back.
“Ah, sorry. What is it?” Draco asked, forcing a weary smile.
“Are you okay?” Vasiliki asked, her eyes, now shadowed with concern.
She noticed the deep lines etched around his eyes, the subtle tremor in his stance, the exhaustion that clung to him like a shroud.
“While I would love to say that I am completely fine, I am not. However, I have enough strength for the plan,” Draco replied, the wryness in his tone belying the seriousness of his words.
He was stretched thin, pushed to his absolute limits.
Vasiliki sighed, a small sound of resignation.
She didn’t try to stop him; she knew how important what they were about to do was.
Their goddess, Bahamut, was currently battling against Falazure.
Although both dragon gods had their arcanum’s sealed, battling only in their mortal forms, the destruction they caused was ridiculous, enough that Draco wasn’t sure their intervention would change much.
But they had to try.
They couldn’t afford to lose their goddess.
Bahamut had once said that she and Falazure were around even without their arcanum’s.
Their inherent power and mastery of their forms made them tough even in their diminished state.
Using this as a basis, the Bahamut familia intended to try creating an opening, a momentary distraction, that their goddess could capitalize upon.
At full power, Draco might have been able to make a big difference, but after battling Mors hours prior, he was completely burnt out, his reserves depleted.
He wouldn’t have risked the lives of his familia members on this endeavor otherwise.
The little he had recovered, he planned to use to aid his goddess, but when that was burnt up too, he would be….they all would be….extremely vulnerable.
With a new detour found, the Bahamut familia resumed their journey.
Time was of the essence.
Each step was urgent, each breath a silent prayer for strength.
They moved like shadows across the devastated land, drawn by the irresistible pull of their goddess's plight, and the deafening roar of a battle that threatened to reshape the world.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………
Meanwhile, to the far north, over the tumultuous sea which bordered the Beol mountain range, Bahamut and Falazure raged.
No, rather, Bahamut raged, and Falazure defended.
This hadn’t been the case an hour earlier.
Initially, the strategy for both dragon gods was to slowly wear at each other’s stamina over time, a cautious dance of power.
When a decent chunk of stamina was depleted, then came the violent, lethal blows.
This was the basic, standard for fights between dragon gods, a brutal chess match that often lasted for days.
However, things changed when Bahamut started going for lethal blows suddenly, abandoning all pretense of conserving energy.
Her attacks became a relentless assault, forcing Falazure to match her pace or be torn asunder. This shift had begun exactly after they saw the golden pillars of light erupting from the direction of Orario, a sight that seemed to ignite a cold, terrifying fury in Bahamut.
Bahamut descended from a dizzying height, a living meteor of iridescent scales, her momentum turning her into a deadly projectile.
Her claws, each talon sharper than any blade, raked across Falazure’s flank, tearing through his dark scales with a shriek of grinding metal.
Falazure roared, a sound of pain and indignation, as he spun, his massive tail whipping through the air in a blur, aiming to crush her.
Bahamut, however, was already anticipating the move.
She ducked under the swipe, her powerful wings beating once, propelling her upward, before she pivoted, locking her jaws onto Falazure’s neck.
“Bahamut, what madness is this?” Falazure’s voice, a deep resonance that vibrated through the very air, finally broke the silence that Bahamut had maintained throughout their brutal exchange. “What god died to trigger such ferocity… what has become of Orario?”
He twisted, trying to dislodge her, his own claws raking uselessly at her hardened hide.
Bahamut merely tightened her grip, her silver eyes glowing with an incandescent rage that seemed to consume the ocean itself.
She didn’t answer.
Her only communication was the fresh gush of ichor from Falazure’s neck, the metallic tang sharp even in the salty air.
She wasn’t interested in conversation; she was interested in annihilation.
Her focus was absolute, honed to a single, deadly point: to end Falazure.
Breaking free with a surge of power, Falazure ascended, shaking his head, specks of divine blood flying into the wind, then dissipating into black motes of light.
“This is not our way! We are not diminished, but neither are we seeking death in this manner!” he shouted, his voice echoing across the turbulent waves.
Bahamut followed, a silver streak against the bruised sky.
The sheer raw power of their physical clash sent shockwaves rippling through the air, causing the very sea beneath them to churn and foam.
She slammed head-first into Falazure’s chest, the impact sounding like mountains colliding.
He reeled back, momentarily stunned, and Bahamut seized the opportunity.
Her powerful legs stretched, talons digging into his shoulder, then she used his bulk as a pivot, flipping over him, her tail lashing out, striking his head with concussive force.
The blow sent Falazure spiralling downwards, momentarily disoriented.
He crashed into the churning ocean, sending up a geyser of water that dwarfed any natural wave. Bahamut wasted no time.
Hovering above him, her chest heaved, a building pressure within.
Falazure emerged from the depths, snarling, but before he could launch another counterattack, Bahamut unleashed her breath.
A torrent of pure, incandescent silver fire erupted from her maw, a roaring inferno that tasted the sea.
The ocean hissed and boiled where the flames touched it, turning vast swathes into superheated steam.
The air crackled with energy, the heat radiating outwards, scorching everything in its path. Falazure, caught in the initial blast, shrieked.
He twisted, diving back into the sea to escape the searing heat, leaving behind a trail of bubbling water and the acrid smell of burnt scales.
“Hahahaha, Bahamut this is way more than I expected of you! This fury! This bloodlust! This pain!…Oh how enticing! How exhilarating! If only this would last forever, but at this rate you will burn yourself out first. Please calm down!” Falazure pleaded, his voice muffled by the water, but his excitement clear.
He surged from the depths again, shaking off the water, his dark scales now glistening, but slightly scarred.
Bahamut ignored him.
She let out another, even more potent, breath of silver flame, sweeping it across the water’s surface, forcing Falazure to zig-zag through the air, desperately dodging the radiant heat.
Eventually, he retaliated with his own dark breath, a stream of shadow-like flame that seemed to devour the light.
The two breaths collided in the sky, creating a violent explosion of light and shadow, wind and fire, that obliterated the clouds above them.
The very atmosphere screamed.
For what felt like an eternity, the two gods engaged in a monstrous ballet of destruction.
They clawed, bit, slammed, and breathed fire, their movements efficient in their brutality, each strike carrying the weight, even without their arcanum’s.
The landscape of the sea transformed: water boiled into steam, then condensed into rain, only to be boiled again.
Islands of rock shattered, sending debris raining down.
Falazure, though equally powerful, was clearly on the defensive, his attempts to reason with Bahamut falling on deaf ears.
Her eyes were fixed on him with a chilling, predatory intensity.
Then, through the swirling steam and the haze of battle, Bahamut felt a familiar tug, a faint but undeniable thread in the tapestry of divinity.
It was her children, close.
Her eyes flickered, a momentary tremor of recognition, a flash of relief and concern.
But it was gone as quickly as it came.
She couldn’t afford to show any weakness, any distraction, not when Falazure’s sharp senses were already alert to every shift in the wind.
She immediately masked the connection, pushed it deep within her, and intensified her assault, slamming Falazure with another powerful wing buffet that sent him careening across the choppy waves.
On the shore, just as the first vestiges of the sun began to rise from the horizon, Draco, Vasiliki, Dimitra, and Vasileios finally arrived.
The sight before them was apocalyptic.
The sea was an enraged beast, churned by raging powers.
Above, two colossal forms, silver and black, clashed, their roars shaking the very ground beneath their feet.
The air was thick with the smell of ozone, steam, and the faint, fishy scent of marine blood.
Draco’s eyes, usually a piercing red, narrowed.
He saw the fury in his goddess, the desperation in Falazure.
This was it.
There was no more time for hesitation.
He began his partial transformation.
A low growl rumbled deep in his throat as his body shifted.
His black scales, usually dull and light-absorbing, began to ripple and shimmer, taking on a deep, vibrant blue hue, like the twilight sky reflected in the deepest ocean.
The transformation spread rapidly, consuming his entire form.
His eyes, once red, now glowed with an ethereal cerulean light, pulses of power radiating from them.
His tail slightly elongated, thickening, its tip sharpening into a deadly, barbed weapon.
His claws and talons, turned the same mesmerizing blue, crackling with latent energy.
Without a word, he strode into the sea.
The turbulent water, still boiling and churning from the conflict above, parted before him as if sensing his intent.
With each step, the blue light radiating from his transformed body intensified, illuminating the frothing waves.
Then, he stopped.
He raised his hands, his blue claws splayed, and began.
A small ripple formed around him, a minor eddy in the grand chaos.
But then, it grew.
It wasn't just a ripple; it was a mini vortex, spiraling rapidly, drawing in the tumultuous water with an unseen, terrifying force.
The vortex expanded, sucking in more and more of the agitated sea, growing larger every second.
It became a monstrous maw of churning water, roaring with a thousand voices as it devoured the waves.
The battle overhead paused, both gods momentarily distracted by the colossal phenomenon blossoming below.
Falazure’s eyes widened, recognizing the cause.
Bahamut, however, merely intensified her gaze at the growing maelstrom, a flicker of pride mingling with her concern.
When the vortex reached its peak, a terrifying, raging cylinder of ocean water that stretched towards the heavens, something massive began to emerge from its depths.
With a slow, inexorable rise, a colossal water ball, made entirely of swirling, crushing seawater, rose from the center of the vortex.
It was an entity of pure hydro-force, easily as large as Falazure himself.
The colossal water ball shot upwards, an unstoppable surge of elemental-infused might. Falazure, was quick to react, but Bahamut stopped him.
She wasn't going to let Draco miss.
The massive water ball caught and closed around him, its aqueous mass coiling around his struggling form.
With an unimaginable force, a portion of the water ball pooled above Falazure, forcing its weight upon him, and with a guttural roar that was choked off mid-way, it pulled Falazure down, dragging the evil dragon god relentlessly into the swirling, abyssal depths of the vortex.
The vortex roared, then collapsed with a deafening implosion, swallowing Falazure whole.
The sea returned to a semblance of its former chaos, but Falazure was gone, dragged into the watery abyss created by Draco.
Bahamut hovered above the now-calmer, but still turbulent water, her eyes fixed on the spot where Falazure had vanished.
The sudden silence, broken only by the lapping of waves and the distant rumble of the earth, was unnerving.
What fate awaited Falazure in those crushing depths?
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