The chamber held its breath as dragon and master stared at each other across the ruins of their battlefield. Nyx's massive head remained fixed on Noah's position, those unnaturally white eyes showing no trace of the bond they'd forged through countless battles. Smoke curled from the dragon's nostrils in steady streams, each exhalation a reminder of the fire that could incinerate Noah in seconds.
Noah's grip on Excaliburn loosened until the mythic sword clattered to the stone floor. The sound echoed through the tense silence like a funeral bell. He raised his hand slowly, palm facing outward in a gesture that could have been surrender or desperate hope.
"Nyx," Noah whispered, his voice barely audible. "It's me."
The Red Death Dragon's chest began to expand.
