Awakening: I Became The Supreme Mage In Another World

The once-proud city of Velisgard was a ruin.

The streets that had once housed several stalls were littered with rubble, and the air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and death.

What remained of the city's population had gathered near the eastern port, a tenuous lifeline that promised escape.

Dozens of battered ships bobbed in the harbor, their crews shouting over the din as they prepared to ferry the survivors away from the destruction.

Caelith moved with the crowd, his newfound body still aching from the chaos of his reincarnation, he found it hard to control but he didn't have a choice other than to move.

He clutched the arm of the young girl he had saved earlier, guiding her through the throng of frightened civilians.

Around them, weary Mages and soldiers formed a perimeter, their eyes darting to the smoke-filled skies.

"The ships are just ahead," a soldier barked, his voice hoarse but commanding. "Keep moving! Don't stop for anything!"

The girl stumbled, her small legs struggling to keep pace. Caelith crouched to her level, his voice soft. "We're almost there. Just a little further, okay?"

She nodded, her tear-streaked face set with determination.

Above, the cries of dragons echoed, sending shivers through the crowd.

Every shadow in the sky drew panicked gasps, and the tension was palpable.

As the harbor came into view, hope flickered among the survivors. The sight of the ships, their sails ready to catch the wind, was a beacon in the darkness.

People surged forward, desperate to escape.

That hope was shattered in an instant.

A deafening roar split the air, followed by a shadow that blotted out the dim light of the setting sun.

Gasps turned to screams as a massive dragon descended from the sky, its obsidian scales glinting in the firelight.

It circled the port once, its wings stirring violent gusts that toppled crates and sent waves crashing against the docks.

Then it struck.

The dragon opened its maw, unleashing a torrent of flames that consumed the front of the crowd. People scattered, their cries of agony piercing through the chaos.

The wooden docks ignited, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

"Run!" someone shouted, their voice drowned out by the dragon's roar.

Caelith froze, his heart pounding.

The girl clung to his arm, her small hands trembling. Around them, people pushed and tripped over one another in their desperation to flee.

The dragon landed with a thunderous crash, its claws gouging deep furrows into the earth. Its molten eyes swept over the crowd, and it let out another roar, a sound that seemed to shake the very ground.

"Get behind me!"

A commanding voice rang out, cutting through the chaos like a blade.

Caelith turned to see a figure striding toward the dragon.

The man was a towering presence, clad in gleaming armor that bore the insignia of the Silver Vanguard, an elite order of knights sworn to protect the Human Continent.

His dark cape billowed behind him, and in his hand, he carried a massive greatsword that glowed with faint, runic light.

"Sir Aldrin!" someone shouted, and a cheer rose from the soldiers.

The knight didn't respond.

His eyes were locked on the dragon, his expression grim but resolute.

The beast roared again, swiping at the knight with claws large enough to crush a man in an instant. Aldrin dodged with surprising agility for his size, his armor gleaming as he moved.

He countered with a slash of his greatsword, the blade cutting through the air with a hum of power.

The strike landed, carving a deep gash into the dragon's side. The beast reared back, its roar of pain shaking the harbor. Flames licked at its wounded flank, and its wings beat the air in fury.

"Everyone to the ships!" a soldier shouted, taking advantage of the distraction.

The crowd surged forward again, this time with renewed urgency. Caelith gripped the girl's hand tightly, leading her toward the nearest ship.

Around them, Mages cast protective wards to shield the civilians from falling debris and stray fire.

The battle raged behind them. Aldrin dodged another swipe of the dragon's claws, his movements precise and unrelenting.

He leapt onto the dragon's back with a single bound, his greatsword glowing brighter as he plunged it into the base of the creature's neck.

The dragon thrashed wildly, its roars turning to desperate, gurgling cries. Blood, black and steaming, poured from the wound as Aldrin drove the blade deeper.

With one final heave, he wrenched the sword free, and the dragon collapsed to the ground, its body convulsing before falling still.

A moment of stunned silence followed. Then the soldiers erupted into cheers, their voices carrying over the chaos.

Caelith glanced back as he helped the girl onto the ship. The knight stood atop the fallen dragon, his blade resting on his shoulder.

Even from a distance, Aldrin radiated an aura of unshakable strength, a beacon of hope in the midst of devastation.

"Move! We're setting sail!" a sailor bellowed, waving the last of the civilians onto the vessel.

The ship's gangplank was raised, and the crew scrambled to prepare for departure.

Other ships followed suit, their sails unfurling as they pulled away from the burning docks.

Caelith stood at the railing, the girl by his side, as the ship began to glide across the water.

The harbor grew smaller with each passing moment, the flames of Velisgard casting an eerie glow over the horizon.

He felt a strange mix of relief and guilt. They had escaped, but at what cost? The city was gone, its people scattered or dead.

And yet, deep within him, there was a flicker of determination. He didn't understand why he had been brought to this world or what purpose he was meant to serve, but he knew one thing: he couldn't turn away from the chaos.

As the ships sailed toward the uncertain safety of another city, Caelith gripped the railing tightly, his jaw set.

This was only the beginning.