Arya stood alone.
The chamber felt larger now emptier yet unbearably heavy. The air itself pressed down on his shoulders, as if the dungeon was mocking him for still standing.
Jun was gone.
Kai was gone.
Mia was gone.
Only silence remained.
Arya's grip tightened around his sword.
"…I'm the only one left," he whispered.
The Black Dragon shifted within the darkness ahead. Its massive presence distorted the light, bending the glowing crystal veins across the floor. Each slow movement sent tremors through the chamber, cracks spreading like spiderwebs beneath Arya's feet.
The dragon did not roar.
It didn't need to.
Its existence alone was enough to suffocate hope.
Arya exhaled slowly, forcing his shaking body to steady. His chest burned. His mana was unstable, screaming in protest but he didn't care anymore.
"There's no one left to protect," he said quietly.
His eyes hardened.
"…So I'll burn everything I have."
