Chapter 1 — No One Can Ruin My Evening
It had been a month since Darkius escaped — and something in Strom had changed.
He wasn't the same calm knight anymore. His rage simmered quietly now, always watching, always ready.
He wouldn't let Dravyss out of his sight, following her everywhere like a silent shadow — because deep inside, he feared the wizard would return for her.
The evening sky glowed orange as Strom and Wraith walked side by side through the forest path leading to Astrid's house.
Wraith smiled faintly: "So… a normal walk or a silent date?"
Strom: "As you wish. You can call it anything you like."
Wraith: "A silent date, then."
Just as the air felt peaceful, a beast lunged out of the bushes toward Wraith —
but before it could even touch her, Strom tore it apart in a single blur of motion.
Blood hit the leaves. Silence.
Strom (cold, calm): "No one can ruin my evening."
He held her hand and continued walking like nothing happened.
Wraith froze for a second, still processing what she'd seen.
Wraith: "Strom… are you alright?"
Strom: "Yes. Totally."
His tone was so steady it scared her. She didn't want to push further — not because she feared him, but because she didn't want to break him.
When they reached Astrid's home, Strom greeted Astrid and Flowra briefly, then turned to leave.
Before walking away, he hugged Wraith tightly.
Strom (softly): "Stay safe, my dear demoness."
Wraith: "You too."
He walked away into the quiet night.
Wraith watched him disappear, the unease growing stronger inside her.
Wraith: "I'm telling you, Astrid — his curse isn't broken yet."
Astrid: "But Sam said it was completely gone."
Wraith: "He ripped that beast apart in seconds. No hesitation. He's too calm… too cold."
Astrid: "We need to talk to Sam. And we need to make sure he doesn't snap again."
But the truth was far worse.
Ever since the nightmare, Strom had been haunted — trapped by the Demon Lord himself, forced to watch his friends die… his mother fall…
and the most painful of all — Wraith burned alive in front of him when he was there.
He never told anyone about those visions.
He just carried the fear inside — the fear of losing the ones he loved.
That fear turned into obsession… and that obsession turned into protection. A monster.
Later that night, Strom returned home and saw Dravyss sitting in her chair, reading.
Strom: "Mom, time to sleep."
Dravyss: "Yeah, almost. Just finishing this chapter."
Strom: "What are you reading?"
Dravyss: "A story about a knight who lost his family in a war."
Strom: "Ah… don't read things like that."
Dravyss: "Go on, take some rest."
Strom nodded. He checked every door, locked every window, then lay down to rest.
But his eyes stayed open for a long time.
Because he knew one thing —
Darkius was still out there.
And he wouldn't let him touch anyone he loved.
Chapter 2 – The merchant
The next morning, Strom woke up to a grim sight — dozens of villagers were dead.
Each body had one thing in common: a small glass bottle beside them, half-filled with a red potion.
He picked one up and sniffed it.
No strange smell. No poison scent. Nothing.
But something in his gut twisted — something wasn't right.
Before anyone could notice him near the scene, Strom quickly slipped away.
No one could know he was the Dragon Knight.
When he reached home, he saw an old man in a dark robe walking toward Dravyss.
Strom sprinted instantly — his heart racing — but it wasn't Darkius.
Just an old traveler asking for an address.
Strom guided him politely, and the man thanked him before leaving.
Dravyss, however, didn't miss a thing.
Something about Strom's reaction was… off.
Inside the house
Dravyss: "Strom, what's wrong with you?"
Strom: "Nothing, Mom! Why?"
Dravyss: "When you saw that man, you ran like you were losing something. Why?"
Strom: "I just… didn't want him to bother you."
Dravyss sighed softly: "Listen, I know I'm not your real mother… but I can see fear in your eyes. It's okay, son. You can tell me."
Strom: No, Mom… it's nothing.
Dravyss: "Don't lie to me. Please."
Strom finally nodded, his voice low.
He told her everything — about the nightmare, the massacre, and the sense that Darkius is here.
Dravyss: "Strom… it's just a bad dream. Darkius won't harm us again. He's almost dead."
Strom: "But last time he captured you—"
Dravyss: 'Because I was outside at the market. He ambushed me when I didn't have the pendant."
Strom: "Still… I can't leave it like that."
Dravyss: "It's okay, Strom. Don't carry the world on your shoulders. I'm fine"
Strom: "Thanks, Mom."
After a long pause she ask him something...
Dravyss: "Strom… can I ask you something?"
Strom: "Of course. What is it?"
Dravyss: "What's the best dream you've ever had?"
Strom: "You probably won't like the answer."
Dravyss: "Just tell me."
Strom: "My best dream… is the one where my father managed to kill that wizard in the forest… and we made it home safely."
That night, Strom couldn't sleep.
The image of those red bottles haunted him.
He slipped out quietly, following his instincts to the Blood Orchid Fields — the place no villager dared to go after dusk.
And there he saw him.
A young man selling the same red potions under a flickering lantern.
He didn't look like a merchant… too calm, too clean, too aware.
Strom whispered, "I need to check this out."
(He approached him casually.)
Strom: "What's this potion?"
Arok: "Life potion. Heals almost any wound."
Strom: "How much?"
Arok: "Fifteen gold coins. The materials aren't cheap, you know."
Strom: "Alright!."
Strom paid him, took one bottle, and went home.
Next morning, he noticed something terrifying —
the red potion had turned purple, bubbling slightly and giving off a faint, venomous hiss.
Strom: "What the hell… I need to talk to him."
He rushed to the same spot — but he was gone.
And the death count had risen again. Twenty-three more villagers… all found with the same bottles.
Strom: "I'm ending this tonight."
At midnight, Strom returned to the field.
Merchant was there again — calm, smiling, as if waiting for him.
Strom: "Explain this." (shows the purple potion) "And why people are dying."
Arok: "Not your business. You're alive — call it luck. Now leave."
Strom: "Sorry, sir."
He turned away…
But half an hour later, The Dragon Knight stood before Arok.
Dragon Knight (Strom): "Close this cursed trade… now.
Or you'll regret it."
Arok's hands trembled, his face pale.
Arok: "Dra… Dra… Dragon Knight…?"
Strom: "I won't say it again."
Arok: "Please, sir! It's my only job—"
Strom: "Job?"
With one swift kick, Strom shattered the table — bottles crashed, the red liquid hissing against the ground.
Strom: "Don't come back here."
Arok: "I-I won't… please, just let me live."
Strom glared one last time and disappeared into the mist.
When the silence returned, Arok's smile slowly crawled back.
Arok (whispering): "Wait… the baker boy leaves… and the Dragon Knight appears.
Same height. Same voice.
Heh… looks like I've found something interesting."
He stared at the last glowing drop of potion on the ground — it pulsed faintly like a heartbeat.
Arok: "Fine then, Dragon Knight. Let's play a little game."
With that, he vanished into the shadows — leaving the field cold and reeking of death.
Chapter 3 — The God Armour
The next morning felt almost peaceful. Strom walked through the forest with the strange lightness of someone who'd saved lives overnight — only two villagers had died since his last patrol; he'd stopped the rest.
Strom (to himself): "A peaceful morning."
He didn't get to finish the thought.
A white flash of armor slammed into him out of nowhere. There was no time to dodge — the world reduced to impact and pain. Punch after punch, a savage kick, and in seconds his arm snapped like brittle wood. A final crushing blow sent everything black.
When Strom came to, cold dirt hugged his cheek.
A voice — hard, clipped, full of steel: "Stay away from my business, you Dragon Knight."
He tried to answer but the world rolled. He passed out again.
Dravyss had been feeling uneasy all morning. Strom normally healed and stood again in minutes; this time the silence stretched too long. She'd told him not to go wandering alone — curiosity and now that warning burned in her chest.
She slipped on the pendant and grabbed the usual root Strom liked for mornings, then left the house with her cloak snapping behind her.
She found him in a shallow hollow beneath the pines — unconscious and bleeding, his white tunic dark with dirt and red.
Dravyss (panicked): "Strom! Open your eyes — wake up!"
No answer. Fear made her hands fast. She lifted him, sprinted back to the cottage, and wrapped him in bandages by firelight.
When Strom opened his eyes he saw his mother's face — tight with worry, hands trembling.
Strom (weak): "Sorry, Mom."
Dravyss: "What do you mean 'sorry'? You're not going anywhere without my say-so."
Strom: "I'll be fine ,mom it's okay."
Strom: "I'm sorry."
Dravyss: "It's okay, son. Rest now."
They didn't get far into comfort before a knock echoed through the cottage.
Dravyss rose, wrapped the last bandage, and moved to the door. When she opened it, she found a tall figure in gleaming white Coat — the kind that made men quiet at the sight.
Dravyss: "Yes? How can I help you?"
The prince's voice cut like a blade. "Tell your son to stay away from my work. If he interferes again, you won't able to see his corpse."
Dravyss's breath hitched. Recognition and a thousand memories flickered across her face.
Dravyss: "So it's you."
Prince Avlor: "Yes. Remember — if I wished it, you both would be dead. Consider this mercy."
He left as coldly as he'd come. Dravyss shut the door and a silent rage settled over the cottage.
Strom's blood boiled as he learned the words.
Strom (through clenched teeth): "He dared to threaten you. He will regret it."
Dravyss: "Rest. Don't let fury rule you. When the time comes, take your revenge — but take it with your own hands, not in blind anger."
Strom: "I will. I promise."
Avlor strode through Sontra's streets on a slow, tense rage. He found Arok waiting in the shadow of a side hall.
Avlor: "Don't make me do this again. I had to talk to a woman like that — you pushed me."
Arok (smiling thinly): "They won't harm us if you do your part. Do it right, brother. Or next time we'll take what matters to them — his mother, his lovers."
Avlor (cold): "Why drag women into this?"
Arok: "Because fear is clean currency. You handle the honor. I handle the profit."
Avlor: "You will not touch his families. If it comes to that, I will handle him myself — but you stay away from harming innocents."
Arok: "As you wish."
Avlor turned away. His jaw tightened. He trusted his brother, yet the gut-ache stayed.
Arok watched him leave and muttered under his breath: "Innocent or stupid — time will tell."
The great hall of Sontra glowed as Avlor entered — candles, tapestries, the polished stone that hid a thousand deals. The prince moved like a man who expected obedience.
Above him, banners of the neighboring houses flapped. The quiet after his visit carried more weight than any battle cry.
Chapter 4 — The Diamond Knight
It had been three days since Strom's ambush — three days since the prince in white armor left him bleeding in the dirt.
Thanks to his dragon blood, the wounds had vanished — but the anger hadn't.
Now, Strom hunted.
Strom (gritting his teeth): "Where are you, merchant… I know you know something."
He scoured the markets, the forest edges, the quiet roads. Nothing.
Until he spotted a familiar figure — a tall man in silver coat and diamond batch with a calm, confident aura.
Strom: "Zyphus!"
Zyphus (grinning): "What's up, brother?"
Strom: "Nothing much. You?"
Zyphus: "Same old. Why do I feel you're hunting trouble again?"
Strom: "Do you know anyone with white armor — gold badge, arrogant, talks like a royal pain?"
Zyphus (raising a brow): "White armor? I know plenty of fools like that. Any more clues?"
Strom: "He showed up once without armor, then came back shining like he owns the sun. Talked to my mom rudely."
Zyphus (pausing): "White armor… gold trim… attitude problem… That sounds like Prince Avlor. But Avlor's usually polite— wait, he was rude to a woman?"
Strom: "Cold and disrespectful."
Zyphus: "Then no doubt. Avlor. The 'God-Armored Prince but I'm still not believe much.'"
Strom (clenching fist): "Thanks, bro."
Zyphus: "Don't do anything stupid."
Strom (already walking): "Too late for that."
Zyphus sighed. "That man is an entire storm wrapped in skin."
The Blood Orchid Field
That night, Strom reached the dark forest cave, donned his Dark blue dragon armor, and picked up the Dragon Spear.
Strom (low growl): "I'm coming, Bastar."
The Blood Orchid field shimmered faintly in moonlight. There — Arok, selling red potions again.
Strom didn't hesitate. He walked straight in, kicked the table apart, bottles shattering across the dirt, red liquid burning the soil.
Before Arok could run, Strom's hand closed around his throat.
Strom (cold as ice): "You're not the one in white. Bring him to me."
Arok (choking): "P-please, let me—"
Strom: "Bring him. Now."
He threw Arok aside like a ragdoll and waited, seated on a stone with his spear across his lap.
Minutes later, the night trembled.
Arok returned — and behind him strode the man in gleaming white armor, golden cape rippling, a massive battle axe in hand.
Avlor (calm): "You again."
Strom (rising): "You'll see what a true knight looks like."
Avlor: "Then die like one."
Strom: "Try me."
The clash split the night — CLANG! Sparks scattered across the blood orchids. Arok ran for his life as steel screamed on steel.
Avlor's axe was massive, each swing enough to break walls. But Strom's strikes were lightning — relentless, precise, unending. The prince barely defended before the spear shattered his weapon clean in half.
Avlor staggered back — Strom's fist met his jaw like thunder.
Strom: "Want to see the real
power?"
Punch. Elbow. Knee. Kick.
Every strike faster, heavier, divine. In ten minutes, Strom broke armor forged by gods. The "God Armour" cracked, its golden lines dimming.
Avlor dropped to his knees, blood dripping down his face. Strom ripped off his helmet and pressed a boot against his head.
Strom (cold): "No more potion trade. Or your parents will struggle to find what's left of you."
Avlor (defeated): "I… I understand."
Strom: "Good. Prince or god — it doesn't matter. I'm beyond both."
He left him broken in the field.
At home, Dravyss listened silently as Strom told everything a new story of her son's victory.
Dravyss (soft): "So… one more enemy down."
Strom (sighs): "Yes."
The Doubt
The next morning, Sam returned from his trip — and found Astrid and Wraith waiting at Strom's door.
Sam (smiling): "Didn't expect you two to meet me here."
Astrid (angry): "You lied, Sam. That's why we're here early."
Sam: "Lied? About what?"
Wraith (serious): "About the curse. Strom's curse isn't broken. He's still… that rage-filled knight."
Sam (shocked): "Impossible. I broke it myself."
Astrid (crossing arms): "A 'little mage' broke an ancient spell casted by Darkius? Sounds fake."
Wraith: "I agree. I saw him— he ripped a beast apart in seconds. He was cold, calm… and terrifying."
Sam: "You two don't understand. His past— it's not something you walk away from normal."
Astrid: "We all lost things, Sam."
Wraith: "I lost my mother and sister, yet I didn't turn into a monster."
Sam (firm): "He lost everything. His parents. His master. His love. His identity. He tried to help and the world called him a monster.
He hid for years because he didn't want to hurt anyone. What you call rage — is just pain protecting love."
Astrid: "But why like this"
Wraith (realizing): "I… I judged him wrong. He became a monster only to protect me."
Astrid (softly): "We really failed to understand him."
Sam: "If you haven't said anything to him yet, there's still time."
Wraith: "Then I'll go. I need to tell him I'm sorry."
Astrid smiled faintly. "Go. I won't follow — it's your moment."
The Fire in the Woods
The forest road was quiet as Wraith walked alone, replaying Strom's face in her mind — his pain, his protection, his love.
She barely noticed the faint smell of kerosene… until something shattered near her.
A glass bottle rolled across the path.
Before she could react, a flaming arrow whistled through the dark — and hit her chest.
Fire bloomed instantly. The forest filled with her scream — then silence.
No one came.
Only the blood orchid petals swayed gently in the heat.
Chapter 5 — The Flames of loss
Strom was heading to Sam's house for answers. He didn't fully believe the red potion was poison, but people were dying — and that was enough.
The sky had thickened; lightning licked the clouds and the air tasted like rain. Still, Strom pushed on, desperate to reach Sam as fast as he could.
Halfway through the forest the smell hit him — kerosene in the middle of trees. He followed it, heart tightening. Broken glass, burned leaves, and then a scrap of singed cloth. Wraith.
He ran, calling until his voice cracked.
"WRAITH!"
"WRAITH! WHERE ARE YOU?!"
No answer only silent in heavy rain.
A wild idea flickered in his head. He climbed the tallest tree he could find, coughed from the height and wind, then cupped his hands and shouted — hoping to cut through the storm.
"BITCH!"
The cry rolled through the woods. For a moment, nothing but rain and thunder answered — then, sharp and angry:
"IDIOT!"
Relief hit him like a blow. He dropped down and sprinted toward her voice, smashing through branches as if nothing could stand in the way between him and her. Then he saw her — half-burned, half-dazed, face streaked with soot and pain, but alive and furious.
He didn't hesitate. He scooped her up in a hug so tight a soft crack ran through her ribs.
"Thank God you're alive," he whispered.
Wraith shoved at his chest, flames in her eyes despite the burns.
Wraith: "No 'darling', no 'sweetheart', and definitely no 'my demoness' — the words I hate most."
Strom held her like she was the only thing that mattered. "Because I love you,".
She let the words land. The rain began to wash the worst of the burns away, and by the time they reached home Dravyss had bandaged her. The worst of the damage mended faster than any of them expected.
Before he could leave again, she stopped him.
Wraith: "Strom, it's okay. He must have planned something. Leave it — it's not your fight."
Strom's jaw tightened. "He may have planned for me but not for my rage. This is personal now."
He set Wraith down gently, kissed her forehead, and walked out. The storm was a steady drum. He went to the cave, put on his armour, gripped his Dragon Spear tight — this was no longer about villagers dying. This was vengeance now.
Chapter 6 — The Prince Avlor
Strom reached Sontra and the differences hit him like a slap — the streets were bright, laughter spilling from taverns, people moving about as if nothing was wrong. No funerals, no black flags. Back home, his village was dying because of a bottle nobody understood.
He frowned. Is this murder — or mercy gone wrong?
Strom hid his armor beneath a rough robe, tucked his helmet away, and tried to pass the main gate like any common traveler. The guards weren't fools; they stopped him. Five long minutes and a few excuses later, he found a window and slipped into the castle like a shadow.
The dark robe, the cape, the way he moved — everything swallowed him into the castle's back passages. In a room lined with shelves of glass he found rows of potions, notes, and a scrawled formula pinned to a board.
He read it and froze. The red potion wasn't a simple poison. It was a cure — a powerful restorative. Mixed with a Blood Orchid, its healing increase even more— stronger than even the blood of blue demons, stronger than any known elixir.
Strom whispered to himself, stunned, "Then why are my people dying from it?"
A voice answered from the doorway. Prince Avlor stood framed in the light, silver coat with golden batch gleaming despite the darkness.
Avlor: "What do you want?"
Strom: "Answers. If this potion heals, why are my people dying?"
Avlor looked at the bottles with a faint frown. "I told you — it's made to heal, not to kill."
Strom: "Then why?"
Avlor: "It needs Blood Orchid to reach its full effect. Arok handles that part."
Strom: "Where is he?"
Avlor: "I don't know."
The two stared at each other for a long breath, then, with a mutual, unspoken decision, formed an uneasy partnership to find Arok.
They searched the warehouses and found the truth in plain sight — thousands of "life" potions were missing. Someone had stolen stock in bulk.
Strom: "He'll need Blood Orchid. He can't make the full cure without it."
Avlor: "Then we go to the fields."
They raced to the Blood Orchid fields and stopped dead — a swath of earth lay bare, flowers ripped up as if by a blade. Where thousands should have bloomed, there were only trampled stems and the faint smell of damp earth.
Strom (grim): "He's not doing this alone."
Avlor: "You want help?"
Strom: "I want my team. We need everyone."
Avlor nodded. "Bring them. We find Arok — and we find out who's buying these potions."
The two left the cleared field behind them, a black wound in the moonlit grass, footsteps already crossing the line between suspicion and war.
Chapter 7 — Who's Buying These Potions?
Strom gathered his entire team to uncover the mystery behind the so-called Life Potions.
Everyone was there — Zyphus, Violet, Wraith, Astrid, Sam, Nia, and Avlor.
He hadn't told Dravyss about this mission — because he didn't trust himself to protect her only because he feared what would happen if Darkius caught her off guard. Strom couldn't risk it — no son wants to see his mother hurt.
After explaining the situation, the group was fully ready.
Strom: "He's not a fool. He won't sell them in my village. Spread out to every nearby village — and stop anyone from drinking a red liquid, understood?"
Everyone: "Got it!"
But just as they prepared to leave, Strom froze.
He suddenly remembered — earlier that day, a woman had come to his house asking to borrow salt, saying hers had mysteriously been stolen.
Strom (alarmed): "Oh no... no, no, no!"
Wraith: "What happened?"
Strom ( panicking ):"We need to stop him fast. It's connected to the Demon Lord!"
Silence fell.
The memories of the Demon Lord returned — the skull, the melted flesh, the iron fusion — the ritual that almost brought that monster back.
Without wasting a second, they split up:
Strom and Wraith
Sam and Astrid
Zyphus and Nia
Violet and Avlor
Four teams. Four directions. One mission — stop Arok before he unleashed chaos.
Every group saw the same horrifying sight — villagers happily buying bottles of the red "Life Potion."
Strom: "Wraith, stop them!"
Wraith dashed off, knocking bottles from people's hands while Strom stormed toward the stall.
Meanwhile…
Sam and Astrid arrived in another village. Sam used telekinesis to lift all the bottles and smash them mid-air. Astrid went feral — she grabbed the seller by the throat.
Zyphus and Nia arrived next. Two children were crying beside their mother — dead from the potion's effects.
Zyphus's eyes burned with rage; his blood boiled like magma. He lunged at the seller, punching him again and again until his skull cracked.
Nia transformed into her Mystic Tiger Form, sprinting through the crowd and smashing every bottle she could find — she refused to let anyone else die.
Violet and Avlor finally found Arok himself — selling the potions calmly as if he were proud of it.
Violet: "You handle your brother. I'll handle the villagers!"
Violet dashed off, shooting arrows one after another — thwk! thwk! thwk! — each arrow smashing a bottle before it could reach another desperate hand. The crimson fluid spilled across the dirt like blood.
Avlor: "Enough, brother. Stop this madness — or I'll stop you myself!"
Arok (grinning): "Come on, Avlor. We could make money, rule a big kingdom! And you still want to waste your power helping people for free?"
Avlor: "It was meant for healing! How did you turn it into poison?"
Arok: "Easy. Blood Orchid loses its healing effect after five minutes of being picked. Mix it late, and it becomes poison — a sweet-tasting one.
I found out by accident. Forgot to mix it once, and the buyer died instantly. The longer you wait, the stronger it gets."
Avlor: "You're playing with people's hope... their lives! You're a monster."
Arok (dark grin): "No. I'm building a new world — under The Demon Lord."
Avlor: "He'll kill you — kill all of us!"
Arok: "Wrong again. He never kills his servants. In fact, he grants them wishes."
Avlor: "Our parents would never teach this. How could you become his servant? How could you turn so cold? A heartless monster."
Arok (snarling): "Our parents? No. They're my parents. You were just trash they found on the ground! You took everything — my power, my place, my life! I was your shadow. I'll gladly serve the Demon Lord just to see you fall!"
The truth hit Avlor like a blade through the chest. But then... his expression hardened.
Avlor: "If I'm Adopted... then you're not my brother."
He tried summoning his weapon — but it didn't appear. It had been destroyed earlier by Strom.
Didn't matter. Avlor didn't need a weapon for that.
He dashed forward — a single devastating punch shattered Arok's jaw.
Then another.
And another.
Avlor: "Die, you ugly insect!"
He kept punching, again and again — until blood covered his hands and Arok's face was unrecognizable.
Then suddenly—
Arok (spitting blood): "Bye… bye."
He snatched a nearby rock and slammed it against Avlor's skull. The sound echoed — THUD! — Avlor collapsed, unconscious.
Arok staggered up, limping, blood dripping from his jaw. He grabbed a broken glass shard and held it above Avlor's throat.
Arok (grinning weakly): "Even heroes bleed, brother…"
But then — he froze. In the distance, Strom's team was running toward him — Strom leading with the Dragon Spear glowing blue under the dark clouds.
Arok: "Always lucky, huh…"
He smirked one last time before disappearing into the misty shadows in the dark forest.
The storm raged louder. Violet reached Avlor's side, shaking him awake. Strom's eyes narrowed — his spear pulsing with fury.
Strom (coldly): "He's working with demons… then he's already dead."
And with that, The Dragon Knight's hunt didn't complete.