Malik sat, barely forcing a breath out. He felt the hard, rocky floor as he stilled in silence. In… Out… his breathing was slow, tired. He knew that his time had been coming for a while, and his fight with the Witch was nothing but a trigger, a cause to speed up the inevitable.

He slowly lifted his neck, glancing at the ever-growing darkness in the skies. He held no resentment; he had indeed lived too long to hold such trivial emotions. He sat, enjoying the deadly stillness that permeated the world.

Interrupting the serenity, slow steps echoed from behind him. Each step held no strength, its sound light and weak. It echoed on for a few minutes, getting closer, until a feeble sigh followed by a thump extended behind him.

Malik quivered, not needing to turn around to know. He remained silent; his eyes glued to the dark skies. Moments turned into seconds, seconds into minutes as Malik remained motionless, struggling with every breath. In… Out…

Hearing the hint of a sob, a small smile appeared on Malik’s face, as he said softly.

“Still can’t believe you are outliving me, are you Kamil?”

Kamil stood, moving closer to Malik. His wrinkled face and tired movements telling of his age, as he spoke, his body still quivering.

“And how could I believe it? You have been alive for long, yet I was a mere mortal. Not even a practitioner…”

Malik closed his eyes yet again, only to open them again, as he felt light penetrate the veil of darkness. He stared at the skies, a canvas of black painted white. He sighed, feeling all tension leave his body.

“So, the Witch is no more.”

Kamil nodded lightly. “After how much you kept speaking of you disciple in the last tens of years, I wouldn’t have expected any less.”

Malik felt a slight smile blistering on his face, feeling pride for his one and only disciple.

Malik and Kamil sat silently, as the skies regained their colors. They remained silent, as Malik felt his breaths get harder and harder. In…… Out…… In…… Out……

Malik’s thoughts shifted as he thought about his descendent, Anise. The poor kid has been through a lot. Malik felt pain as he thought about Anise. He didn’t have to ask, seeing her out of the village, and her momentary reaction wouldn’t escape Malik.

He felt an intrigue as he thought about Jorish, his grand disciple, the moment he interrupted Anise, stopping her from telling him about her family’s demise. What a considerate kid. Malik felt a small smile creep on his face. You found a good kid this time yet again, Traves. All of the three, heroes or demons, are truly... Legends.

Malik kept feeling his body getting more and more feeble, coughing as he felt his body shudder. He felt his arm shaking, feeling Kamil grabbing it.

Malik’s vision got fainter and fainter, his thoughts racing then slowing down. Ah, Traves… You damn punk, you still owe me a meal from our last bet…

He looked up, watching the sun setting, his hand with Kamil’s. Ah Kamil, my friend. I shall leave you for now.

In… … … … Out… … … … In… … … …

He felt his consciousness going thin, a tear dropping through his face.

Ah Salima, two thousand years. Two thousand years… and finally, I shall see you again.

Out … … … …

…

…

Kamil held on Malik’s hand, as he felt him getting limb. He waited, watching as the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

And thus, the sun set on that day, the end of a generation, and the start of another.

Days later, there was nothing but a simple gravestone. Beneath that grave, was he, who once was the strongest.

He was once the Dragon Monarch.

He was the savior of the free Cities.

He was the star, the sign of a generation.

Yet, on the stone, there was nothing but a few words.

Here lies a brother, a friend.

Malik

- - - - -

Thunder roared, snow collapsing onto the cold earth. An endless scale of white, similar yet quite different. There was no peace in that landscape, the North was merciless, if the cold doesn’t kill you, then the countless beasts will.

In the middle of the snowy plane, a figure stood, facing off a gigantic monster. Standing 10 meters tall, two heads extended from the creature’s body. Multiple whip-like tentacles extended, moving forward as they cut through snow and stone alike. The Two-headed Slookh was one of the most fearsome monsters in the north, requiring parties of Candidates or even Monarchs sometimes to handle.

Opposite to the monster stood a topless man, his body perfected, his muscles irradiated strength, his short silver hair joined his face to give him a look of intrigue, impossible to identify his age. He jumped around lightly, avoiding tentacles as snow stuck to his body. He had an Axe strapped to his pants, its blade broken to three, almost like the claws of a dragon.

Suddenly, the man froze as he looked to the skies. Joy evaporating from his face. He spoke, quietly yet audibly as a cold voice echoed.

“Stop.”

The man’s facial expression got uglier, his mood getting sour as he kept looking at the skies. Suddenly, the beast fired a beam of snow toward the man, engulfing the white world in white.

“I told you…”

The man suddenly flickered his hand to the side, as a loud boom echoed. It was but a moment, as the upper half of the beast disintegrated. Turned into nothingness.

“… to stop.”

The man walked off, snow pouring, yet almost afraid as it avoided him, he looked the skies again.

So, the Dragon Monarch has died. A shame.

The man grunted, annoyed. I never got to fight him. He had turned old. A shame indeed.

The man sighed. I am bored… what to do…

Suddenly, an idea popped into his mind. I haven’t visited the Grandshine in tens of years. I must pay them a visit…

A smile showed as the face of the Grandshine, annoyed and pissed popped in his mind. He laughed as he prepared to make his way to the Central region, before suddenly he heard an earth-shaking roar, causing him to turn toward it.

He smiled wider, as he began walking towards the source of the roar. “Well, the Grandshine has waited for me for tens of years, I think they can wait a bit more.”