Rossweise gently descended to the churned earth, her silver robes settling around her like the petals of a closing flower. As her feet touched the ground, Leon and the others hurried toward her, the urgency of the moment giving way to overwhelming relief.
"Rossweise!"
Leon broke into a run, calling her name, his voice thick with the emotion of a long-awaited reunion after months apart and the terror of nearly losing her to the chaos.
The queen turned to face him, and for once, her usually aloof and regal demeanor softened into something private and warm. A genuine, relieved smile graced her lips as she lightly lifted the hem of her gown and stepped toward him, closing the final distance.
The two met amidst the shattered ruins and scorched earth, collapsing into a tight, desperate embrace. The sunlight that broke through the dissipating clouds bathed them in a sudden, golden glow, their reunion appearing as a single, delicate flower blooming defiantly amidst the destruction—a fleeting, powerful moment of beauty and love amidst the devastation.
Isa considered walking over to greet her sister but decided against it after a single glance.
It wasn't that the elder sister didn't want to intrude on the moment, but—
"Claudia," Isha mused aloud, a wry smile touching her lips, "don't you think villains and monsters always seem to follow an unspoken rule in these situations?"
"What rule would that be?" Claudia asked, genuinely amused by the observation in the midst of the crisis.
"They never, ever interrupt during the dramatic post-battle hug," Isha quipped, gesturing toward the embracing couple.
Claudia actually chuckled, a rare, light sound that seemed to momentarily ease the heavy tension hanging over them.
Isha's observation, for all its humor, wasn't far off. Constantine, who had been a storm of pure chaos and destruction moments ago, now lay still on the ground some distance away, his overwhelming purple flames and chaotic energy gradually dissipating like a dying fire. His massive, distorted form shrank and contorted, returning to its original, familiar size and shape.
"What was that move Rossweise used just now?" Isha asked, her professional curiosity piqued. "It wasn't just a raw blast of power."
"That was Primordial Magic: Soul Judgement," Claudia explained, her scholar's mind taking over. "It's an advanced technique. Its power isn't fixed; it adjusts based on the intensity and negativity of the target's own emotions and spiritual energy. When it lands, it doesn't just cause physical damage; it suppresses or outright neutralizes those rampant emotions, restoring balance."
She glanced at the subdued Constantine. "Constantine's negative emotions—his rage, his pain, the chaos from the Scale—were off the charts. So, in Rossweise's hands, the Soul Judgement was particularly devastating to that corruption."
Isha nodded thoughtfully, impressed. It was no wonder the world both revered and feared the power of the Primordial Dragon Kings. Such sophisticated, conceptual magic was leagues beyond ordinary elemental spells.
"You've already begun tapping into the Primordial Force yourself with that crystal," Claudia added, glancing at Isha's ring. "With enough dedicated training and study, you could potentially learn to wield techniques of that caliber one day."
Isha shrugged, not committing to the idea aloud. Meanwhile, on the field, the other Dragon Kings cautiously approached the motionless Constantine, magical energy brimming warily in their hands, ready to be unleashed should he stir even slightly.
But he remained unmoving, his body completely subdued, the terrifying aura that had surrounded him now gone, leaving only the shell of a deeply exhausted dragon.
"His negative emotions were too overwhelming, too deeply tied to the Scale's corruption," Claudia murmured, more to herself. "Soul Judgement didn't just calm him; it likely wiped them out entirely, for now. And, of course, Rossweise executed it with flawless precision."
As if on cue, Constantine let out a heavy, ragged breath, a sound of profound exhaustion. His eyes fluttered open, his vision blurry and swimming as he struggled to take in his surroundings.
The academy lay in ruins around him, the once-proud and orderly grounds a chaotic mess of debris and magical residue. Around him, the silhouettes of the Dragon Kings stood on high alert, their postures rigid, watching him with unwavering suspicion.
He tried to lift his head, the movement sluggish and strained. Among the blurred figures, one broke from the group and approached him with hurried, purposeful strides.
"Father! Father!"
Hefei's voice, shrill with panic and tears, echoed in his mind, faint and distant like a memory.
And then, his vision dimmed entirely, and he slipped back into unconsciousness, the world fading away.
When Constantine awoke again, it was deep night.
The soft, rhythmic hum of cicadas drifted through a small, barred window set high on the wall. The room was bare and utilitarian, its smooth, stone walls unadorned, and the bed beneath him was a simple, unforgiving wooden plank.
A single, heavy door stood opposite him, sealed shut by three thick, dark beams of pulsating magical energy that glowed with a subdued menace.
Constantine sat up slowly, his body protesting with a deep, pervasive ache. He tested his limbs, his movements stiff but functional. Raising his right hand, he curled his fingers slowly into a fist, feeling the faint, strange, and foreign energy still pulsing like a dormant ember deep within his core.
"What... happened to me?" he whispered into the silent cell, the events of the day a chaotic, painful blur.
As he grappled with his fractured memories, firm, measured footsteps echoed from the stone corridor beyond the door.
"Leon..." he muttered, the cadence unmistakable even before the figure came into view through the magical barrier. He rose from the bed and approached the sealed doorway, meeting Leon's solemn, uncharacteristically grim gaze through the shimmering energy.
Leon's expression was heavy, a far cry from his usual confident, often teasing demeanor. There was no lightness in his eyes now.
"Let's not waste time with pleasantries. You have the corruption of the Black Dragon Scale inside you," Leon began bluntly, his voice echoing slightly in the sparse cell.
"The same kind that drove the Warhammer Dragon King Adam to mindless madness. It can incite uncontrollable chaos and amplify negative emotions in anyone it's implanted in. That's why you lost control. That's why you tore apart the academy."
Constantine absorbed this information without much visible reaction. He had suspected as much upon waking. The corrosive, alien power that had overtaken him felt eerily similar to what he had sensed from Adam during their final confrontation.
"But... when was it implanted in me?" he asked, his voice low and steady, though a storm of confusion raged beneath the surface.
Leon took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for the explanation. "Probably during your first resurrection, after the battle against the Black Dragon in the Empire. The Shadow, it seems, calculated this moment long ago. You were always a walking time bomb in his plan."
He explained that the Empire's later fusion experiments—the chimeras and hybrid beasts—weren't the ultimate goal.
"Those fusion beasts were distractions," Leon said, his voice tight. "Something tangible and manageable to keep us busy and looking in the wrong direction while they worked toward this. The real goal was always you. Today was the culmination."
Constantine's gaze darkened, the pieces falling into a horrifying picture. "Then... we're in a far worse position than I ever imagined."
Leon nodded, his expression grim. "Worse than you can currently grasp. You didn't kill anyone, by some miracle, but you severely injured 17 of the academy's guards. Two of them were in critical condition for hours and barely made it out of the danger zone."
"But that's not the worst of it," Leon continued, his tone dropping even lower. "Over a dozen teachers and hundreds of students were caught in the backlash of the chaotic magic you unleashed. While their lives aren't in immediate danger, their magical circuits are in complete disarray. It will take months, perhaps years, for some to fully recover. Because of this, the academy board and the assembled Dragon Kings have unanimously deemed you highly dangerous and uncontrollable. That's why you're in this specialized containment cell."
Constantine closed his eyes, a wave of guilt and frustration so potent it felt physical washing over him. His shoulders slumped.
"And Hefei?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
"She's physically safe," Leon assured him quickly. "But with everything that's happened, the stigma... it'll be difficult, if not impossible, for her and the other Red Flame Dragon students to remain here at the academy. The fear runs too deep."
He explained that Hefei had been spared from the worst of the chaotic blast thanks to Noah and their ancestor's quick thinking, erecting a protective barrier that shielded her and the other young dragons nearby.
"That's good..." Constantine murmured, though his voice was heavy with a guilt that no reassurance could lift.
Leon sighed, the sound filled with exhaustion and the weight of the situation. "There's more. St. Heath's Academy is a neutral sanctuary, a place of learning. It doesn't tolerate threats to its students or staff, regardless of the reason. You didn't just damage buildings and destroy rare, ancient books; you hurt people. That's a line that's been crossed, and the consequences are severe."
"I managed to buy you three days."
"Three days?" Constantine's voice was tinged with confusion and a dawning sense of dread.
"The academy council and several Dragon Kings wanted to pass judgment immediately—banishment, or worse," Leon stated flatly. "But I convinced them to wait. I'm hoping that after three days, tempers will have cooled slightly, and they'll be more reasonable, more measured in their verdict."
Leon paused, his tone softening just a fraction, revealing the friend beneath the negotiator. "Most importantly, Hefei needs you. She's terrified and heartbroken. She needs to see you, to know you're still there. Do you understand the gravity of that, Constantine?"
"Hefei..." Constantine's voice wavered, finally cracking under the immense pressure. The image of his daughter's terrified face was seared into his mind.
Leon nodded, seeing the crack in the dragon's armor. "This whole incident didn't just damage the academy's grounds and reputation. It's left an indelible mark on Hefei. No one else can reassure her that her father will be okay. Only you can. You have to be there for her."
Constantine clenched his fists tightly, the bones in his hands protesting. The weight of his actions, of his very existence as a threat, threatened to crush him.
"I only have three days..." he repeated, the words tasting like ash.
Leon nodded once, a final, grim confirmation. "After that, I don't know what the academy or the Dragon Kings will decide. Their patience is thin. Use the time you have. Think. Rest. Prepare."
Turning to leave, Leon hesitated at the cell door. He looked back over his shoulder, his profile outlined by the dim corridor light, and added with stark honesty,
"This is all I can do for you right now, Constantine. The rest... the rest is up to you."
The magical seal reactivated with a low hum, leaving Constantine alone once more. He stood for a long moment, then slowly sat back down on the small, hard bed, his head bowing until his forehead nearly touched his knees.
"I've already... caused too much damage..." he muttered into the silence, his voice devoid of its usual fiery strength, hollow and filled with a profound weariness.
Leon watched him for a moment longer through the energy field, his chest tightening at the sight of his once-proud, indomitable rival reduced to this broken state. Without another word, he turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading down the corridor.
As the door sealed shut, plunging the cell back into near-darkness, Constantine's whispered words lingered in the stagnant air, a confession of utter exhaustion:
"I'm so... tired."