Heavy clouds swirled high in the sky, occasionally streaked by blood-colored lightning. The sunlight was blocked, turning daylight into night.
On an unknown island, the beach was littered with dead fish and shrimp, all washed up by massive waves. The coconut trees were corroded by an unknown force; their leaves and bark turned black, and even the fresh, juicy coconuts exploded, oozing out black sticky fluid.
Molag Bal was enraged by the viscous liquid, desperately trying to remove it from his body.
If this was his true form in a distant land, the fluids would freeze into solid ice from several meters away and would never stick to his body.
Odahviing's wings hung limply against the ground, golden light flickering in bursts as healing magic tried to restore him. Even battling a projection of a demon, Odahviing had exhausted his magic. Any small recovery was immediately used to heal his wounds.
Not far away, Wright was standing on the beach, surrounded by defensive magic, panting as his eyes locked on Molag Bal, wary of any movement, prepared for the next battle.
"Dragonborn, as long as Molag Bal's body stands on this continent, his power is eroding this world at every moment. If this continues, his power will only grow stronger, and the entire world will be gradually assimilated by him," Durnehviir's dragon spirit communicated with Wright through their consciousness.
Having studied dragon soul awakening for many years, Wright could already make use of the twenty or so dragon souls within him to fight, even without the blood. These dragon souls still retained some of their consciousness, though unfortunately, they could not speak. The only one who could communicate was Durnehviir.
"I know. From the moment he appeared, I noticed. That's why Odahviing and I brought him away from Westeros," Wright responded.
As long as Molag Bal remained still, Wright did not move, both resting and recovering his energy and magic while thinking of ways to handle the situation with Durnehviir.
Durnehviir's dragon soul circled behind Wright. "Your situation is not good either! The dragon Shout you control comes from Hermaues. Its power has already corrupted your soul. Soon, you will become its slave."
"A Daedric Prince is immortal, I am merely a dragonborn, not a dragon god. To defeat Molag Bal, I can only rely on another demon's power," Wright replied.
The large pieces of dragonbone on his chestplate were knocked off, his dragonbone gauntlets now in tatters, and his skin constantly bubbled.
The bubbles expanded until they reached the size of fists, then burst, spilling black water that dripped from his hands and feet. Now, as the bubbles reached their peak, Wright could faintly see eyes and pupils inside them. The black sticky fluid that polluted the island and surrounding sea came from Wright himself.
"It seems this method is effective. Molag Bal doesn't like the influence of another Prince's power on his body," Durnehviir commented.
"Hermaues is even more untrustworthy than Molag Bal!" Durnehviir added.
Wright had allowed Hermaues' power to corrupt him, hoping to increase his own strength. He had found that while Hermaues' power was useful against humans, it was ineffective against Molag Bal, a master of battle, only polluting the land and annoying him.
"I know that. Is there any other way to deal with Molag Bal, or should I just kill him now?" Wright asked.
Durnehviir's dragon soul moved to the side, observing Molag Bal. "Perhaps before I die, I could still use the power of the Soul Cairn to help."
"Foolish dragonborn!" Molag Bal, having finished cleaning the sticky substance from his body, raised his massive spiked mace and pointed it at Wright. "Not even Hermaues can save you. Today, you must die!"
"Fus~Ro~~" Wright began to shout, but before he could finish, Molag Bal was already upon him.
Boom! With a powerful swing of his mace, Molag Bal sent Wright flying.
It was too fast! Wright barely managed to keep up with his speed, only managing to raise his hands in a desperate attempt to block and protect his body and head.
Crack
Wright's body collided with the ocean's surface, bouncing back into the air, twisting and turning as he fell again, creating a splash of water each time he hit the sea.
As the spinning gradually slowed, Wright finally managed to stabilize himself.
His arms, protected by multiple layers of magic, were swollen and numb, hanging limply by his sides, unable to move. Wright quickly cast magic with his feet to create a piece of floating ice on the surface of the sea to steady himself.
Roar~ With a dragon's cry, Odahviing charged towards Molag Bal.
The giant dragon's body erupted with lightning, rapidly gathering at its head and mixing with the dragon flames in its mouth before spitting them out.
Boom!
With this attack, Odahviing used all of his magic. The swirling flames lifted trees, sand, seawater, and rocks into the air, sending a plume of smoke up to the clouds. The waves raised by the explosion reached heights of thirty to forty meters.
The sea breeze quickly blew away the smoke, and Wright struggled to regain his footing on the floating ice from the churned-up sea. He saw that the island he had just stood on had been completely erased by the explosion.
"Odahviing!"
Through his connection with the dragon, Wright sensed that Odahviing was above the dark clouds. It was in distress and urgently needed help.
The seawater, lifted by the explosion, began to fall like a waterfall. Odahviing, headfirst, tumbled from the clouds, its wings continuously thrashing, striking its own body.
Molag Bal stood on Odahviing's back, one hand gripping the spines while the other wielded his spiked mace, relentlessly striking.
A single sweep of the mace shattered spines thicker than a human's arm.
A heavy blow shattered the dark-red scales into shards, and the thick ribs cracked.
Without magic, the dragon flames Odahviing sprayed at Molag Bal couldn't burn him; his wounds healed in less than a second.
Unable to reach Molag Bal's back with his attacks, Odahviing knew he needed Wright's help. He ignored Molag Bal's assault and sped toward Wright.
Another heavy blow sent Odahviing's head to the side. The scales on his neck cracked, and fresh blood splattered out. The seawater in the air evaporated into white steam, and the hot dragon blood, mingled with white smoke, scattered over the sea like a fallen white chrysanthemum.
Molag Bal, quick as ever, soon stood on the giant dragon's head.
"Hiss~~" Muscles bulged on Molag Bal's arms as he let out a strange roar before snapping both of Odahviing's sturdy horns with brute force.
Roar~~
The horns, grown from the skull, were torn off, and Odahviing let out a painful screech.
Wright, standing on the sea, didn't want to watch, but he knew that in battle, even if his eyes were struck, he couldn't close them. He had to keep his eyes locked on his opponent's every move.
Odahviing was no mere mount; he was a speaking dragon. Though Odahviing could lay eggs, Wright still considered him a close friend, a comrade, a brother—connected by blood but different species.
"Molag Bal! You filthy bastard!" Wright's voice was dark and grim as he called out the demon's full name, neither shouting nor roaring.
He removed his helmet, took off the damaged chestplate and gauntlets, and gripped the dagger hanging at his waist in his right hand. But in this fast-paced battle with the agile Molag Bal, this dagger was useless.
"Fighting Molag Bal means death, but if I don't, I'll still become the slave of that big-eyed monster. Heh, I, Wright, won't accept that fate!"
Wright reversed his grip on the dagger and drove the sharp point into his own chest, aiming for his heart.