The battlefield turned crimson.
The Lizard's spine pulsed brighter and brighter, the molten glow surging into its throat. Then it opened its maw wide and released a heat wave unlike anything the soldiers had ever seen.
Air itself ignited.
The shockwave swept across the plain, blistering the ground into glass, reducing armor to molten slag, and men to ash in an instant. Thousands screamed—but their voices were cut short, burned away in the inferno.
In just two minutes, an entire flank of nearly ten thousand soldiers had been erased from existence.
The survivors faltered. Weapons fell from trembling hands. Their captains screamed at them to hold the line, but the men had already begun to scatter like leaves before a storm.
On Greyspire's walls, silence fell. Soldiers and citizens alike stood frozen, eyes wide, mouths agape. Never had they witnessed such devastation—nor did they know whether to rejoice or shiver in fear.
Kael, atop his black horse, watched without a flicker of emotion.
"So," he murmured, his mask glinting in the firelight. "Show me how you plan to leash your dragon, commander."
Through the crystal's link, he felt the enemy general pour mana into the summoning stone. The ritual circle widened, threads of blood and flame tethering the battlefield to something ancient.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "A Fire Dragon bound by force. Dangerous, but also… exploitable."
Umbra whispered in his ear, voice like silk. "Master, shall I prepare the water dragon? Or the twins?"
Kael shook his head. "Not yet. First, clear the board."
He raised his hand.
All across Greyspire's defenses, golems stirred as one. Their eyes glowed with an intense azure light as Kael's command rippled through their cores.
"Overdrive mode—engage."
The mage golems' cores surged, doubling their output. Fireballs, lightning bolts, and lances of ice screamed across the battlefield in relentless volleys.
The artillery golems' barrels glowed red-hot, their rhythm no longer one blast at a time but continuous, thunderous barrages that tore open ranks of men and collapsed siege engines in fire and shrapnel.
The single-shot golems locked onto the advancing towers, loosing beams of destructive mana that pierced through enchanted wood and steel, reducing them to rubble before they could approach the walls.
Greyspire's soldiers and citizens roared in awe as the tide turned brutally in their favor.
But Kael's focus never wavered from the distant glow.
The summoning stone trembled, its core pulsing faster, shrouded in a crimson haze. The enemy commander knelt in the center, veins bulging as he poured his life force into the spell. His voice bellowed across the army, desperate and proud:
"By this stone's binding, I command you—RISE, FIRE DRAGON!"
The ground quaked, and a colossal claw began to emerge from the circle.
Kael's hand rested calmly on his sword hilt.
"Whether you live or die," he said softly, almost to himself, "depends entirely on your master's worth."
Behind him, the Lizard's spine pulsed again, readying for another roar. The battlefield was on the cusp of becoming something far greater—no longer a war of men, but a clash of titans.
The summoning circle erupted.
The earth split with a deafening crack as molten veins spread outward, glowing crimson. A vast claw slammed into the dirt, followed by a second, each large enough to crush a house with ease. The circle stretched, distorted, then shattered into fragments of burning sigils as the beast emerged fully.
A roar ripped through the battlefield—a sound so violent it rattled bones and shook Greyspire's walls.
The Fire Dragon stood revealed. Crimson scales shimmered like molten steel, wings unfurled like sheets of flame, and its eyes—bloodshot and glowing—seethed with hatred. Chains of glowing runes clung to its body, etched deep into its flesh.
Kael's gaze flickered with cold calculation as he opened the dragon's status window.
[Status: Bound – Slave Contract Override]Condition: Rampant (Unstable Control)
His suspicions confirmed.
The commander had used a force-bound contract stone, enslaving the dragon beyond its will. But the magic was too strong, too absolute—a chain that twisted into madness rather than obedience.
The beast was not tamed. It was unleashed.
"Fool," Kael muttered beneath his mask. "A dragon bound against its nature will never obey—it will only burn."
The Fire Dragon's gaze locked instantly onto the Lizard.
With a thunderous beat of its wings, it launched forward, leaving firestorms in its wake. Its maw opened, fire gathering like a sun being born in its throat.
But the Lizard had already anticipated this.
Its spine glowed brighter than ever, fissures of molten energy racing from tail to neck. The ground split under the pressure as the beast roared and unleashed its Plasma Breath.
A lance of white-hot destruction cut through the battlefield, colliding head-on with the Fire Dragon's inferno.
The clash tore the sky apart.
Flames and plasma twisted violently, erupting into shockwaves that flattened the battlefield and sent soldiers screaming. Stone walls trembled, crops ignited for miles, and a storm of ash blotted out the sun.
From Greyspire's walls, terrified citizens witnessed the duel of titans. Panic surged. Mothers clutched children. Men dropped weapons, overcome by primal fear.
"Everyone to the basements!" guards screamed, shoving people toward underground shelters.
Both princesses joined the exodus, moving swiftly among the people to calm them, their voices steady even as their hands trembled.
Kael observed calmly from atop the wall, mask hiding his expression.
The Plasma Breath dimmed, its glow dispersing. Smoke cleared enough to reveal the Fire Dragon still advancing. Scales charred, flesh burned—but it endured.
"Not enough," Kael muttered. "Not against a true draconic flame."
He raised a hand. Shadows coiled like smoke, spreading outward. To the people watching, it looked as though he was summoning reinforcements. Whispers rippled through the crowd—fear mixed with desperate hope.
But Kael did not summon. Not yet. He only pretended.
What came next was something else entirely.
The battlefield shifted as the ground itself darkened. Blue light burst upward from sigils hidden beneath the soil, forming a massive necromantic circle across the killing fields.
The corpses of the enemy—tens of thousands—twitched.
Burnt flesh knit together. Shattered armor reformed. One by one, they rose again, eyes glowing azure, jaws slack in death's silence.
An entire army of the fallen stood to attention, awaiting Kael's command.
Gasps and screams filled Greyspire as the people watched the impossible unfold. Soldiers crossed themselves. Nobles whispered prayers. Even the princesses stared, pale with shock.
To them, it looked like Kael had just summoned an army from nowhere. None realized the truth—that he had simply resurrected the enemy's own dead.
The Fire Dragon roared, maddened by the rising stench of necromancy. The Lizard bared its fangs, ready for the next clash.
And Kael whispered, voice like death's own promise:
"Now… let them taste despair."