Step to paradise

"I am a direct descendant of the Hawthorne family. I have the right to summon the academy's mages!"

"And I have the seal of the Eastern City! We need to send our troops to the front lines to—"

"Your Majesty, the one who summoned the bone dragon could very well be… a rebel faction! Or… or a treasonous wizard!"

King Albrecht, his face as stony as marble, merely raised his hand. The crowd fell silent as if a knife had been cut across their necks.

"If we die for dragons, then let us die as men who once had an empire. If we die for the throne, then let the common people laugh at my rotten throne before we die."

Only a few people in the crowd did not speak.

They stood at the edge of the stained glass, old figures, their shoulders worn by time rather than flattery.

One of them was Velynrather Kaelthas. Wearing black armor, no banner, hands still stained with mountain dust, but his eyes were as cold as when he led the cavalry into the mouth of the northern ice dragon.

Velynrather looked at the entire frivolous hall, sneering inwardly.

'These are the people who will fight with me against a creature from the Creation era? They will die fighting for the seal before they even see the dragon spread its wings.'

A few minutes ago, when he was on his way towards that huge creature, the royal summons echoed throughout the empire. This meant that all soldiers, wizards, and forces under the royal command had to obey the order and come back to listen to instructions.

He had no choice but to return, even though he knew that if he continued to meet, he would not be able to stop it.

The earth trembled as if someone was turning over layers of history buried under his fingernails.

Then it roared.

The roar was not a sound, but a bone axe that was slashing at the sky.

The sound tore through the clouds, causing the dark clouds to drift to the sides like weak souls being pushed away from the more powerful.

The trees on the mountainside knelt, breaking as if bowing to the gods.

Velynrather Kaelthas clenched his sword hilt, clearly feeling his chest being squeezed by the pressure of an era where humans had never been the masters.

In the distance, on the vast continent map, every observatory, every mirror, every ancient formation was on red alert at the same time.

In the kingdom of Elene, the land of the towers of light.

"Level 9 off-axis mana. Creation summon confirmed."

In the Irun island alliance, the largest water palace in the West.

"An ancient dragon has awakened. Unknown source of summoning magic.

Cancel all ships heading to the central continent."

In the dark councils of the North, the mages sat silently in the cold room, looking at each other, grinning.

"The Ozone Empire… Opened the gates of hell with their own hands, and no one bothered to intervene."

No one came.

No alliance. No aid. No prayers other than waiting with folded arms for the hot corpse from afar.

"Ancient dragon…? That piece of trash still has the secret technique? The smell of death is even drifting over this country."

"Let it destroy the Ozone. At least it will clean up that rotten border area for me."

Returning to the scene, the giant dragon bone mass now had more than half of its body exposed, the long bones like walls curved in the shape of the creature that had once cut down the holy land.

In the sky that had now turned to liquid blood, the Creation-era bone dragon finally fully rose.

The giant head covered in bone spikes raised, piercing the last remaining cloud layer on the mountain top, its empty eyes shining with a sickly yellow like the cursed moonlight.

The giant rib cage was longer than the three stacked towers, its scales petrified, its dry bone claws dug deep into the mountain, its wings spread out, each joint emitting a screeching sound of friction like a saw cutting into the soul.

The summoning magic circle, each ancient rune as thick as a road, exploded like a broken mirror, emitting a "crack" sound like dry thunder. The mana flowing in the ground erupted one last time, then evaporated as if it had never existed.

Flauros frowned.

He lifted his sleeve to cover his face from the last rays of light from the magic explosion,

His amber eyes flashed with a trace of doubt.

"The magic circle… self-destructed?"

"Leaving no magic mark, leaving no energy fingerprints…The person who caused this was smart enough to erase all the evidence?"

The magical wind still swirled in the sky. The remnants of the formation dissolved like crystal dust, sucked back into the sky by the wind, as if they had never belonged to the ground.

Flauros stood still.

In his heart, there was a lingering feeling as if someone was sitting and laughing in the dark, playing him like a chess piece smart enough to suspect, but not smart enough to expose.

The bone dragon began to stir, each step causing the ground to sink like a sponge under the pressure of a water god.

In the distance, Velynrather Kaelthas, who was leading the imperial knights, also stopped his horse halfway when he saw that the magic circle had disappeared without a trace, leaving only the dragon and a trembling mountain peak beneath it.

Flauros stood still, while at the foot of the mountain, the bone dragon from the Creation era raised its head and roared a second time, a roar that caused the dark clouds to be sucked out, as if the heavens and earth themselves had to listen to the commands of that ancient creature.

The pressure filled the space so much that the eardrums of the royal wizards in the outer circle began to bleed, the knights who had never been to battle trembled as they gripped their swords, and the horses had gone mad.

But Flauros did not move.

His body was as still as a stone statue, only his eyes narrowed slightly.

And in those eyes, what appeared was not a dragon.

But memories.

A moment of blaze, two bloody figures, one alien howling like a demon, the other half human and half living mana, the next stronger than the last, attacking him twice without hesitation.

This smell…

This aura…

"It can't be wrong."

"The bone dragon doesn't carry this kind of infection. Impossible. Never."

Flauros raised his head, for the first time since coming here, he didn't look at the dragon as a historical creature, but as a failed experiment pulled out of the ninth layer of hell.

"Not a normal resurrection. Its structure has been changed."

"Like… those aliens from last time.

A type of infection that doesn't belong to this world."

The dragon roared again, this time its eyes flashed red, but it wasn't entirely mana. Something "wrong" was moving inside its empty chest.

A black blood vessel? A tainted magic core?

Or is it the artificial mind that is controlling this bone puppet from within?

Flauros took a deep breath,

then cursed softly.

"Damn it… I was planning on leaving these people alone."

"But if the one behind this dragon is on the same side as those mutants before, then they don't just want to destroy this empire. They're targeting me."

"Ha."

"This time, you guys brought the bone dragon just to kill me?"

Flauros's cloak fluttered in the wind.

The first step.

He walked towards the abyss of the mountain, where the bone dragon was writhing,

where black mana rays had begun to gather into distorted shapes under the dragon's bones.

He didn't care about the life or death of others, what he cared about was the one who dared to touch him.

A room deep underground, the black stone walls covered in moss, the pillars carved with ancient runes that no one could read, the scent of incense mixed with the smell of burnt bones made the air as thick as dried blood.

In the center, a glass sphere as big as a human head, light flowing through it like blood from the heart of a chained god.

And within it was Flauros, in the middle of the battlefield, advancing towards the Creation-era bone dragon as if he were walking through hell.

The observer smiled.

Not a human smile, but the smile of something that had long since refused to be human.

His long black cloak, which reached the ground, fell off in pieces like smoke from a corpse.

"Flauros…"

He raised his hand, lightly touching the sphere, and a layer of floating blood symbols appeared in the air like red worms crawling in a basin of holy water.

"The thing summoned this time is not just a dragon."

"I want to see... whether you will live on as a legend, or just... a hastily written ending in black blood and disappointment."

His laugh broke out, dry, drawn out like fingernails scraping on a cold stone board.

A silver-robed man, kneeling on one knee in the middle of the silent hall,

his eyes lowered, his voice hoarse as if his throat was on fire.

"Master… The army is almost here."

"The mid-level demon force has completed its assembly. At the top of the formation, Siegfried, the descendant of the dragon race, has completely assimilated with the control core. He will lead the army in three hours."

Above the black stone throne, he stood up, the black cloak followed by the darkness swept across the stone floor like a living mist.

The magic sphere behind him still displayed the image of Flauros on the mountain peak, exactly where the army would pass through.

"Let's see, will you kill him or save him?"

Flauros stood in the middle of the mountain, looking down at the imperial army in the distance

a long line of horses, brooms, all kinds of formations… slowly like a national day rehearsal, not to stop the bone dragon from reviving.

'Damn… going to fight a dragon, you guys are like going to welcome the god of fortune?

His eyes were cold, but the corners of his lips curled up viciously. He wasn't Flauros if he didn't swear.

"Forget it. By the time you guys come, the dragon will probably have shed its skin again."

His feet lightly stomped on the ground.

The magic seal engraved on the sole of his shoes lit up like an ancient relief coming to life.

In the blink of an eye, Flauros shot into the air like a falling star in the opposite direction, and a small "boom" rang out from the torn air.

In the sky, among the clouds hovering around the bone dragon's body,

a black cloak floated, crimson cloths, and a familiar scarf fluttered in the wind.

The forbidden book opened, the lines of words moving like worms crawling around each page, glowing with ancient mana and murderous aura. The pages flipped without the need for wind, as if an invisible hand were choosing.

A spear-shaped staff was summoned. The staff was long, the spearhead was sharp. Mana coiled around, a magic circle slowly rotating at the hilt, accompanied by a light hum like the ticking of a clock waiting for blood to be spilled.

"Ancient dragon?"

'In my eyes, you are just a large lizard.'

The first formation appeared like an island floating in the clouds,

the edges of the runes lit up with a strange purple-red flame, like solidified blood burning.

Another formation identical to the reflection but upside down appeared under the dragon's feet, forcing it between heaven and earth like an upside-down sentence.

From both rings, thousands of purple-black chains burst out,

twisting like the roots of hell, each one hitting the dragon's bones, causing black gas to rise like molten skin.

Flauros, his hair flying upright in the hot wind, the forbidden book shining brightly, trembling slightly as if screaming in ancient language, flipping continuously,

while he stood still, eyes cold.

'Fuego Negro.'

The sky above everyone's heads suddenly turned blood-red. Not sunset, but a light that was not allowed to exist.

Black and red lightning bolts shot around the dragon, shattering its natural protective mana rings and creating holes all over its body as if it were tearing apart pieces of its consciousness.

Black ash flew, not from the ground but from the burning air itself, wisps of purple smoke wrapped around the dragon's bones like ghostly vines.

The first roar from the dragon rang out, but it was no longer a dragon's cry…

It twisted, groaned, like two creatures were fighting for its body.

The royal wizards standing far away watched in amazement, they had never seen this form of magic before.

It was not in the books.

It was not in the academy.

It was not in the recognized magic system.

The scene in the sky made the entire empire's divisions stand there petrified.

Some bowed their heads in prayer, some dropped their weapons because their hands were shaking, and even some young mages started vomiting because the counter-current mana waves were pressing on their nerves.

They had seen demons.

They had seen witches.

But they had never seen someone "fighting" as if summoning the end of the world.

At that moment, a piercing shout rang out from the front lines.

"What are you standing there for?! Are you warriors of the empire, or undead?! FIGHT!!"

Velynrather Kaelthas - an old knight in faded silver armor, rode a mythical black horse, his long spear stuck into the ground like a flagpole in the middle of a broken battlefield.

"How can a nameless youth with forbidden magic still stand firm, and you, who have sworn to protect the people, draw your swords and tremble like clowns?"

He turned his horse around, his eyes scanning the entire formation that was almost broken. The royal wizards who had not even killed a chicken had no experience enough to know that what Flauros was using was forbidden magic. Only when he spoke did they know.

"You don't need to win. Just advance."

The soldiers were shocked.

Some began to roar, raising their shields. Mages raised their staves, witches pulled out their brooms. A dry drum beat rang out.

The empire was in ruins, but the fire was not dead.

And up above, Flauros, his eyes had now completely changed color, a deep purple light like a vortex of knowledge, the red light still lingering in the corners of his eyes like embers in a winter night.

This was the state of automatically absorbing mana from negative emotions.

Because the attack was so intense that it required a lot of magical knowledge processing, the brain was not capable of spending time processing information to absorb mana.

That's why most wizards had to stop after casting a spell, but a forbidden spell user like Flauros didn't need to.

Flauros jerked his spear, the magic circles outside the "Fuego Negro" formation were layered on top, increasing the speed of the explosion, chaining the neck, chest, and spine of the bone dragon.

Each blow seemed to tear it apart, only to see it still standing, trampling each spell like dust falling on the jade-like bones.

Each spell was now cast continuously like a meteor shower, but it only did one thing.

Keeping it still.

Flauros knew. Very well.

This spell could not destroy a creature that existed before the concept of "death" was born.

He gripped his staff tightly.

Every breath is a flow of mana blood flowing backwards.

The air around Flauros began to crack, like a mirror burned by heat, and the runes began to flicker, signaling that the magic was entering the threshold of overload.

But he still did not stop.

Wait until the magic effect ends, then he will strengthen the spear to attack directly. Spend time absorbing enough Mana for the next spell, he wants to end this battle as soon as possible.

He felt the huge wave of death aura from afar, but it had not appeared yet, if they came at the same time. Everything will collapse. The situation will get worse and worse.

On top of that, using forbidden magic brings extremely bad side effects. He only has a few bottles of suppressants left.

There was no sound to warn of it.

Only a slow breathing from the dragon, then…

BAM.

The entire Fuego Negro formation shattered like glass hit by a sledgehammer.

The purple runes scattered, dyeing the sky black, dragging along a thick mana pressure like water, forcing the air to sink, causing the low-level mages to bow their heads as if buried in black mud.

The remnants of light swirled in the sky, forming the image of a silent and deadly storm, the half-burned clouds forming long streaks like the scratches of a demon.

In the air, Flauros did not say a word.

The purple light in his eyes contracted into two sword-like rays of light.

His mouth began to chant.

Not loudly, not decisively.

Just mumbling, like a silent curse, each word a nail hammered into the air.

The spear in his right hand glowed, magic seals spilling out from the hilt, curling like dragon lines around the steel blade. Sparks from the book in his left hand shot straight into the spearhead, increasing its destructive power.

Flauros did not wait another breath.

He swooped down like a black-purple comet, tearing through the sky, the spearhead glowing red, dragging tens of thousands of runes flying behind him like a flock of crying souls.

Down below, the empire was in chaos for a moment as the formation was broken.

A cry of panic rang out.

A few soldiers staggered. But then.

"STILL FORWARD!"

Velynrather Kaelthas, his voice still resounded like an ancient war gong, blowing away any remaining fear.

Although he no longer had the manas to enhance his fighting like before, he was still the one holding the sword at the forefront.

The empire's army changed from chaos to fierce order.

The knights raised their spears, the magicians thrust their staffs, and the mages simultaneously unleashed their wide-area attack spells.

In the rear, the scholars held their books tightly and kept drawing magic diagrams in the air.

The healers sweated, gritted their teeth, and raised their healing staffs to support those who had just fallen.

Mana surged like a tsunami, each swing of the staff extended a few more minutes of life in hell.