Silence pressed on the Hollow like packed snow.
Ryujin surfaced inside it by degrees. First was the pain, then the cold, then the weight of his own body. Every breath scraped his ribs raw.
His tongue tasted like iron and ice. When he tried to lift his head, the cavern spun and a sharp, white ache flared behind his eyes.
Warmth touched his cheek.
Nox.
The Abyssal Drake's molten gaze hovered close, pupils thin knives in the gloom. He huffed a small plume of heat against Ryujin's face, as if furious at how cold he'd let himself become.
On the other flank, Crimson lay half-curled, sides heaving, ember-glow guttering and rising like a banked forge.
Beyond them loomed a third shape.
The Frostfang Wyvern; wings mantled, head low, breath spilling silver fog. It watched in perfect stillness, not a threat now. Not a stranger. Something between defeat and fealty smoldered in its glacial eyes.
Ryujin swallowed. His throat hurt due to the frost.
"Status," he rasped.
DING!
~----~
[CRITICAL RECOVERY STATE]
Soul Integrity: 41% ~ 43% (Stabilizing)
Legacy Safeguard: ACTIVE (Mitigating soul collapse)
Neuromotor Debuff: Severe (Fine control degraded)
Cognitive Drift: Moderate (Hallucination risk low)
…
[Bonded Beasts:]
*Nox (C Rank): Injured.
Combat Readiness: 46%.
*Crimson (B Rank): Injured.
Movement impairment: 28%.
*Frostfang Wyvern (A Rank): Stabilized.
Bond Trust: 14%
Domain Link (Weak).
[Bond Cooldown Advisory:] Any new bond attempt within 21 days risk permanent soul damage.
~----~
Thud!
Ryujin let his head fall back to the ice. The HUD dissolved, leaving the Hollow's breath and the distant groan of shifting frost.
'I should be dead'.
That thought arrived faint and dry, as if spoken by the cavern itself. He knew the truth of it.
Without the Eternal Dragon Legacy bracing the bond, the woven lattice of draconic authority taking the brunt of the Frostfang's soul, he would have ruptured like thin glass under a glacier's weight.
He was pretty sure that no other E-Rank in existence have ever tamed three beasts with Dragon blood, and to think they were C, B, and A Rank respectively.
Even with his legacy, he'd skated the blade's edge.
"I gambled," he murmured to the ceiling. "And I won".
A low, reprimanding rumble rolled through Nox's chest. Crimson flicked his tail and snorted steam as if to say the jury was still out. Ryujin chuckled.
Ryujin pushed up onto one elbow. The world tilted, then steadied.
The Wyvern did not move. Ryujin hesitated for a moment before reaching out, slow and careful, before setting his palm against the ridge above the Wyvern's eye.
Cold sank through his skin like needles. Under his hand, he felt it… the faint, tenuous thread of allegiance binding a killer to a command.
"Good," he whispered. "You're with me".
Something rustled at the edge of hearing. Not the natural creak of ice. Rather, boots… harness. The clink of scale and ring.
Hunters!
He forced himself to sit. Pain skittered along his nerves, but the dizziness eased. He drew shallow, quick breaths until the shake in his hands faded to something he could hide.
"Nox," he breathed. "Veil. Crimson, hold heat. Frostfang… still and silent".
The Abyssal Drake exhaled a thin sheet of shadow-smoke that pooled low over the ice like dark mist. Crimson tightened his coils, choking his glow to cinders.
The Wyvern folded lower, wings wrapping inward, the whites of his eyes vanishing under narrowed lids.
Ryujin closed his own eyes for a beat and listened to the Hollow.
The footfalls grew clearer. The wind at the entrance also shifted, and then he heard it… first a soft call, then whistles, clipped, clearly the language of a unit that hunted as one.
The Emerald Fangs.
He swallowed the bitter taste that rose with the name and reached for the spear shaft lying near his knee. It was splintered and useless.
He let it drop, then dragged himself to a broken column of ice, before using it to brace a half-crouch.
Not for a stand. For a choice.
If they saw three dragons awake and wary, they wouldn't risk it, they'd immediately collapse the tunnel and bury him under the hollow. If they believed the lair had done the work for them though, they'd come far enough for him to choose where the ground would break.
"Play dead," he whispered, almost smiling through his pain. "For once".
Nox flattened further, hugging the ground. Crimson stilled completely, only the slow rise and fall of his massive chest betraying life. The Wyvern's exhalations slowed until frost drifted from its nostrils like dust.
Ryujin settled against the column, and made his breath small.
The Hollow waited with him.
They came in pairs, the first two hugging the left wall with professional care, blades drawn and eyes narrowed to slits against the glare of ice.
A third slipped along the right, knee deep in shadow, bow half-raised. The shape behind them was larger and heavier, but moved like a sledge wrapped in muscle and will.
The lead man tilted his head, listening.
Another hunter eased past, dropped to a knee, and ran gloved fingers over a patch of gouged ice. The gesture was almost reverent, it was the gesture of a hunter reading the last seconds of a kill.
"Quiet," he mouthed.
Silence answered.
No roar. No clash of talon and fang. Only the long, low thrum of a lair that had decided its business was done.
A voice, low and gravel-edged, drifted from behind the vanguard.
"Report".
"Impact patterns," the kneeling hunter murmured, breath fogging. "I see collapse points. The final flurry was right there," he gestured with two fingers. "Breath blast, then nothing. If he was inside this when the A-Rank hit full force…"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
A different voice murmured, cool and precise. "Valtheris didn't finish him. We will". A pause. "Or the Wyvern already did".
There was murmured assent, a note of grim satisfaction beneath it. Another hunter, lighter on his feet, the roll of his shoulders suggesting a rider's balance, tapped the ice with a boot-toe.
"Smell that?" he said softly. "Stale ember. Shadow soot. But thin". He frowned. "Too thin".
"The domain's smothering it," murmured the first. "Doesn't mean the Wyvern is dead".
The heavy shape at the rear moved forward at last. His armor made no sound, but the Hollow seemed to lean away from him.
He paused at the threshold of the inner chamber, studying the boneyard of shattered icicles and the long skid-marks burned into the floor.
"Spread," he ordered. "No heroics. If the beast lives, we pin it first. If all we find is a body, we take the head".
They moved.