Aiden continued to strike relentlessly, tearing through layer after layer of the dragon's flesh. Modrax's scream thundered through the skies as he began to realize something was burrowing into his body. In an instant, the dragon's entire body erupted into blazing flames, like a volcano exploding from within.
Aiden, still inside the beast, was roasted alive.
"ARRRGHHHH!!"
His scream echoed from within the dragon's flesh, but the pain didn't stop him. He shrieked as fire consumed him, his skin peeling away, yet his eyes still burned with unshakable fury and resolve. With one final push, he tore himself free from the massive wound he'd created, leapt outward, and swung into the air using the chain sword still lodged deep within the dragon's scales.
Flames still licked at his body. His flesh blackened. But Aiden didn't care.
The wound he left behind now gaped open.
At that very moment, a giant thunder arrow shot down from the heavens, striking the wound alongside a swirl of white mist twisting into the shape of monstrous jaws—mist-teeth that sank into the dragon's flesh with brutal force.
DOOOMM!!!
A massive explosion erupted inside Modrax. Fire, lightning, and fog blended into a blast that tore through the air. The dragon howled with all his might, a sound that made the entire city tremble.
Aiden screamed with him, his savage cry joining the voice of destruction. His body was nearly unrecognizable—skin scorched red, blistered, veins bulging as if ready to burst.
But he was still alive.
And he was still fighting.
With breaths heavy and filled with ash and blood, Aiden swung his chain sword again, planting it once more into the same wound. Using every last ounce of strength, he hurled himself toward it.
WHAMMMM!!!
One final strike.
A strike that shook the sky.
A strike that carried the last of his life's will and determination.
The dragon's body convulsed. Its wings beat erratically, eyes bulging wide, and from its maw, flames roared skyward. Its blood—bright red like molten metal—spilled from the gaping wound in its belly, burning rooftops as it rained down.
The air turned into a vortex of heat. Every beat of its wings unleashed shockwaves that shook the city below. Modrax bellowed, the thunderous voice filling the sky like the cracking of heaven itself.
But his body continued to descend, lower… and lower.
He quaked, slowly but surely, like a mountain collapsing from the sky.
Falling…
Toward the earth.
Toward Riven and Melly.
.
.
.
Riven held Melly tightly, his heart pounding violently in his chest. His gaze lifted, staring up at the enormous shadow of the dragon falling from the sky like a meteor from hell.
Above, the dragon's silhouette eclipsed the sky. The wind from its wings howled like a hurricane, and the force of its descent felt like the heavens crashing down. Riven's breath caught in his throat. He knew they didn't have enough time to run. The creature was too massive, too fast. The chances of survival… were zero.
The shockwave from the dragon's fall struck first, slamming into them before the creature even hit the ground. Riven and Melly were thrown backward, crashing into a stone wall behind them. Melly's cry pierced the chaos, and Riven instinctively shielded her from the impact. Dust and debris erupted around them, cloaking the world in ash and ruin.
"UGH!!"
Blood trickled from Riven's temple. His arms were bruised, his back felt like it had been smashed by a hammer. But he forced himself to rise. Standing in the wreckage, trembling not from fear, but from something breaking inside him.
He looked to Melly, still lying on the ground, her face pale and terrified. Then his gaze returned to the front. The dragon's shadow grew larger. Death felt near, so close it seeped through his skin, cold and final.
"Melly… don't go far from me."
Riven's voice was low, but firm. He glanced at his sister curled up on the ground, silently weeping. The little girl nodded weakly and slowly crawled closer, clutching his arm.
In those fleeting moments, something stirred in Riven's chest. Not hope. Not true courage.
He knew he was going to die here.
It was a fact, not a fear.
And perhaps because of that… something strange grew within him.
Not hope. Not despair.
But a kind of bravery born from the understanding that he had nothing left to lose.
Riven knew it. He knew better than anyone. His body wasn't strong enough to fight a dragon. But one thought spun in his mind, a decision to die without regret. He wanted to swing. He wanted to do something. He wanted… to silence that sickening feeling that had always haunted him.
Something whispered in his soul—a quiet, ancient push. Riven looked down and saw a broken stick on the ground, likely debris from a shattered fence or household item. He bent down, picked it up with a bleeding hand.
And stood.
His legs trembled, his body battered, but his shoulders were firm. He faced the dragon and slowly took his stance. His right hand gripped the stick as if it were a real blade. He let his body grow still, like a swordsman about to perform one final cut in his life.
That was when the voice echoed again, not from the world, but from deep inside his soul.
"You can cut through anything, if you truly understand it."
That man's voice—cold, emotionless, and familiar. A figure from his dreams. A face that… looked like his own.
Riven closed his eyes.
He let the words sink into his heart, flowing between the pain and the pressure of impending death. If you truly understand something… you can cut it.
What did it mean to understand?
To know its shape? Its structure? Its weakness?
Or… was it more than that? To understand why something should exist, or why it shouldn't?
Riven took a deep breath. The world around him shook, but inside, a terrifying calm began to bloom. It was as if he stood on the line between life and death, and everything beyond that line no longer mattered.
Then another voice followed. Soft but powerful.
"If you believe you can cut through anything… then you have to believe it with every fiber of your being. Even if that belief kills you.... No. More than that. You have to become the cut itself. A will that cannot be denied. It doesn't matter who you're facing. It doesn't matter what you're cutting. You have to cut, as if it's the reason you exist..."
Ashtoria.
Her words now felt like fragments of truth long lost in Riven's life. He understood now. He wasn't a sword. He wasn't the wielder. He wasn't even the strike.
He was the judgment.
The choice to separate one thing from another.
And maybe… that was his reason for being in this world.
He wasn't a savior. He wasn't a warrior. He wasn't a hero.
He was Severance.
The end. The one who decides what deserves to remain, and what must be cut away.
He opened his eyes.
The dragon was seconds from hitting the ground. The air cracked. The shadow swallowed the light.
But Riven stood unmoving.
His small frame meant nothing against the monster that set the sky ablaze. Yet in that moment, all of existence narrowed to a single point.
A single swing.
His hand lifted the stick like a real sword. He saw the line in the air—a fine, invisible thread that sliced the sky and the dragon's body. A line no one else could see. A line that had already been chosen… to be severed.
And he knew his task.
With one slow, steady breath, Riven swung the stick forward.
Not hastily. Not with emotion. But with absolute certainty.
The cut flowed like water—gentle, yet unstoppable.
And in that swing…
The world stopped.
Everything… went silent.