Dallion and Aquilequia flashed through the air like a pair of lightning bolts. The dragon remained marginally faster, but had decreased its ability to affect large areas. The flaming breath had become the equivalent of a point attack, taking out a handful of Dallion’s instances at most. Aquilequia was fully aware of this, which was why her style of fighting had changed so dramatically.

Sparks of purple lightning ran over her entire body, like an armor of thorns, giving out a shock each time Dallion got close. His left arm was still suffering the consequences of a new permanent effect after he had attempted to pierce the dragon’s wing.

Spark! He let out a spiral attack.

The distance between him and the dragon was less than ten feet, but even so, Aquilequia managed to evade the lethality of the blow, merely getting the tip of her wing shredded.

Damn it! Dallion hissed internally.

His opponent combined the speed and energy of a dragonlet with the cunning and power of an ancient dragon.

A sword flew from the ground; Abla was attempting to influence the battle, but due to his condition, his skills were lacking.

The dragon snorted, evading the flying projectile as if it were a static object. Dallion could have done the same, but chose a different approach. Releasing the aura sword in his left hand, he grabbed hold of Abla’s weapon.

What’s your level? He asked the item guardian directly.

Strong and arrogant, a purring male voice replied. I like you.

A dragonblade? Dallion wondered. Like everyone, he had heard the term, but up to now thought of it as highly unlikely. Thinking a bit more, it made sense that dragons would be precisely the type of guardians fit for top nobles. The only thing the creatures respected was strength, ensuring that anyone viewed as not worthy might come to a premature death at the hands of his own weapon.

I was over a hundred when I was first imprisoned, the item continued. That should be enough for you.

Yet again, Aquilequia flew by, casting an aether sphere around Dallion to limit his movements. Instinctively. He slashed at the purple material with both weapons. The force of the strike was enough to shatter the makeshift prison, although there was noticeable resistance on the dragonblade’s part.

“Abla!” Dallion shouted. “Grant me permission to use your weapon!”

Suddenly, the weapon felt a lot lighter.

What skills do you have? Dallion asked, filling the air with a series of line attacks.

Shapeshifting and permanent wounds should be enough for you, the guardian said in his pleasantly sinister voice. There could be no doubt that this sword, too, was one of the Twelve Suns’ rare items.

You won’t like the shock that comes with fighting her, Dallion said, filling his own voice with power. The worst thing that an owner could do to an arrogant item was leave any doubt as to who was boss.

I can handle it. Can you?

Dallion concentrated, extending his magic threads into the weapon. The dragonblade didn’t fight it, transforming into a six-foot broadsword.

Bursting into a new set of instances, Dallion flew in the general direction of Aquilequia. Her speed and maneuverability made predicting her movements nearly impossible, but with a scattershot approach with close to two hundred instances, Dallion was able to get close enough for an attack.

Sword clashed with claws as both opponents grasped the opportunity to inflict as much damage to the other as possible.

Purple rectangles flashed by, briefly showing the damage both parties had received. Dallion, as expected, had gotten his left arm paralyzed all the way to the shoulder. Miraculously, that hadn’t affect his grip. As for Aquilequia, she had received a bleeding wound, which in the present circumstances amounted to nothing at all; her entire body was made out of magic, and magic couldn’t bleed. Or couldn it?

Gleam, teach Harp to perform illusions at your level, Dallion said within his realm.

Teach her? The shardfly asked in near terror. I don’t think there’s anything I can teach her.

Just show her how it’s done!

For what Dallion had in mind, he’d need to be able to cast illusions using his harpsisword, and he had to make certain that they’d hold.

In the real world, a single instant passed. Within Dallion’s realm, Giaccia had gone through an entire day of training to master the illusion ability of a spectral shardfly. Despite not being from another world, her learning ability was superior to Dallion’s. The magic limitations, though, had forced her to become creative in the way she analyzed and applied the knowledge provided by Gleam.

Dallion, of course, didn’t leave anything to chance. For several minutes he continued the cat-and-mouse game with Aquilequia, avoiding her attacks until the effect of the paralysis had worn off. Then, he’d engage in a close battle, unleashing as much power of the dragonblade as it allowed.

Ready, Harp? Dallion asked.

Ready, the nymph replied, having taken the time to practice for weeks.

Here we go. Dallion prepared mentally. It was time for another sky clash, but this time he’d be placing himself at much greater risk. A simple exchange of slashes wouldn’t be enough; he’d have to continue with the attack, striking Aquilequia several times in specific spots. As long as he timed it right and boosted his speed with enough spells, there was a good chance of success.

Chords of anxiety filled the air. Clusters of sound strands came from below, carrying with them condensed hatred and aggression. The emotions that had left Aquilequia’s body with her death now poured back in, filling her with the desire to scorch the entire world and everyone in it.

“What the hell?!” Twenty of Dallion’s instances looked down at the ground.

The source of the music, naturally, was Tors. Leave it to an egotistical narcissist to come to one’s aid once the battle was almost over and mess everything up in the process. Completely useless ever since the start of the hunt, the Elazni was trying to make up for it by flooding the dragon with emotions in an effort to get it off balance.

Dallion had to admit that his cousin was more skilled than he was given credit for, but that didn’t diminish the fact that he remained a complete idiot. With no one else left on the ground, he had just made a target out of himself and Abla.

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Must go. The dragonblade twisted out of Dallion’s grip, darting towards its owner. It was an interesting experience.

“Shit!” Dallion hissed beneath his breath. As disadvantageous as it was, the sword was the least of his issues. “Of all the times it should have worked…”

Aquilequia let out a torrent of flames, fading several of Dallion’s instances. The rage placed within her compelled the creature to attack without any regard for her own life. Her head turned as she split into two instances of her own. The fight against Dallion had proved longer than she would have liked, even if she maintained a slight advantage. Meanwhile, there were two and a half people on the ground, all far weaker targets.

For close to a second, the instances circled one another, as the dragon decided on the next course of action. Then, the unthinkable happened—instead of focusing on the only real opponent, Aquilequia swooped down towards the remaining survivors. The pent-up anger called for instant gratification, which would be quickly achieved once she burned Tors, Abla, and the one who had killed her.

Boosting his speed with several spells, Dallion darted at the nearby instance. Focusing with all his might, he tried to force it into reality, but this time, the dragon proved stronger, winning the tug of war. The version that Dallion had attacked vanished, while the true form of the dragon was on its way to deal with the others.

“Lux!” Dallion shoulted. “Boost me!”

This wasn’t something that Dallion would normally do, but right now his only choice was to go on with it and hope that his body trait was high enough to withstand the force.

Before anyone could blink, the firebird had moved the bladebow beneath Dallion’s feet. An instant later, it propelled its owner forward, right after the dragon.

Layers of pressure stacked one over the other, first in Dallion’s feet, then knees, then waist. His body instinctively wanted to bend, but he didn’t let it, maintaining a stretched position as he split the air faster than ever before.

Beneath, Abla had just caught his dragonblade.

Aquilequia snarled, then let out a torrent of fire.

Several things happened at once. Unable to run, Abla transformed his weapon into a swordshield in an effort to withstand the flames. Meanwhile, Dallion had reached the back of the dragon and proceeded to unleash a multi attack with his harpsisword.

Dozens of strikes hit the dragon. Purple electricity ran up the blade, paralyzing Dallion’s right arm to the point that he dropped his weapon. However, it no longer mattered. With each hit, the nymph had cast an illusion, changing the dragon’s aethereal body into flesh. Tens of permanent bleed effects came into being all at once, spraying blood everywhere.

The dragon coiled upwards. A sensation of pain that wasn’t supposed to exist made it twist in agony. One of the wings tore up mid-flight due to the dragon’s speed. Flesh and bone were never meant to withstand such force.

At that moment Dallion felt the sense of victory. Just as he was about to strike the final blow, his empathy trait activated.

A memory fragment flashed before his eyes. It was brief, lasting far less than any fragment Dallion had seen so far, but Dallion was able to feel the pain and fear that had plagued Aquilequia’s entire existence. For most of her life, she had no knowledge of the past, or that there even was a real world. All that she had done was roam the realm with several others like her. Every few centuries, clerics would come and take one of the dragons with them. Then, at one point, even they stopped visiting, leaving Aquilequia alone.

No! the dragon roared, ending the memory fragment. I won’t let you!

Sorry. You don’t have any choice. Dallion summoned the harpsisword in his left hand, then combined attack with music to strike the final blow.

A spiral attack dug into the dragon’s wounded body, putting an end to the echo of its existence. Yet, it didn’t come with pain. Rather, the opposite—the strands of music that Dallion had wrapped the attack with emanated a sense of peace, destroying the emotion that Tors had inserted.

The roaring stopped. Aquilequia turned her head towards Dallion as much as she could, as if to say something. Alas, she never had the possibility. A bright orange glow surrounded the body, breaking Giaccia’s illusion. The outlines of the creature blurred, scattered by the wind until only a chunk of orange crystal remained, emanating the all too familiar energy of the Moons.

“Dragon heart,” Dallion muttered.

The shard was twice as large as a human head, shining in brilliant orange. It was the only remnant that proved Aquilequia had ever existed. In different circumstances, Dallion would have left it as it was, possibly even sending it to Dararr. Unfortunately, he already had plans for the Moonstone, as well as a few more loose ends.

Unsummoning Lux, Dallion changed the direction of his flight, going to where Aquilequia had initially crashed into the ground.

“Count,” he said, landing next to the hunter. Healing magic had done little to fix his wounds.

“Did we win?” the old man found the strength to ask.

“Yes,” Dallion replied. “We won.” Splitting into instances, he looked back to check how the duke was doing. “Abla is alive. A bit scorched, but alive.”

“Good.” The Count closed his eyes. “Hell of a way to go,” he said.

“Hell of a way.” Dallion forced a smile.

“Your grandfather used to say that a lot.”

The sentence shot through Dallion like lightning. The Count knew his grandfather?

“They’ll kill me for telling you this, but I’m dying anyway, so there’s nothing they can do.” The hunter let out a dry laugh mixed with coughing.

“Where do you know him from?”

“From the Order. Your grandfather was part of the inner sanctum back when I was still a newbie. He was the bishop of the Twelve Suns, first after the Emperor… before the change.”

“What change?”

“Sorry, kid… the vow won’t let me tell you…”

Part of Dallion wanted to continue with the questions for as long as possible. Finally, he had found someone willing to talk about his grandfather, and the man was at death’s door.

Desperately, Dallion cast a dozen more healing spells in a futile attempt to stabilize the Count’s condition for an hour longer. There was no point. The old man was content to have done his duty, letting go of what little kept him clinging to life.

You didn’t deserve this, Count. Dallion told himself as he played the chords of a heroic saga on his harpsisword. Music full of calm and joy flowed into the hunter, making the last few moments of his life a lot more bearable. Several seconds later, he stopped—there was no need to continue.

Adzorg, Dallion said within his realm. Was this all worth it?

The whole inner sanctum had been obliterated. Awakened who could take on nymph water islands now lay dead in the forbidden north, killed by a dragon that only wished to escape its prison. The dragon had proved very costly to the empire, not to mention pointless. The great dragon would have remained imprisoned without their involvement. Possibly the smaller feral creatures might have become an issue at some point, but they could have easily been dealt with without suffering such losses.

I honestly don’t know, dear boy, the mage replied. You’ve gained a lot of experience, as well as a Moonstone. Not to mention that you saved Abla’s life. All in all, I’d consider the hunt a personal win.

Dallion didn’t see it that way. If only he had a little more information, so much of this could have been avoided.

With a flick of his wrist, Dallion returned the Moonstone and harpsisword to his realm.

“I can’t believe we did it,” Tors said as he approached, a fraction of composure returning to his voice. “When it changed to an aether creature, I was worried it might—”

Faster than a lightning bolt, Dallion dashed to his cousin and gripped him by the throat. He had easily spotted the other’s attempt at using music skills on him. That, combined with his previous behavior, led to only one conclusion.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Dallion tightened his grip as Tors struggled to break free. His strength was considerable, but compared to Dallion, he felt no stronger than a month-old kitten. “Who ordered Abla dead?”

“I…” Tors gasped for air. “I didn’t try to kill Abla…” he managed to say.

“You’ve been causing problems ever since we entered the north. At first, I thought it was due to your incompetence, but it wasn’t, was it? You just wanted to create an opportunity to act. That last music attack proved it.”

“No… I… just…”

“I couldn’t manage anything of the sort, but you did. And not only that, you were able to fill up the dragon with the one emotion that would make it blindly charge at the duke. If I hadn’t managed to—”

“You!” Tors said as loud as he could. “…kill you!

Dallion loosened his grip just a fraction, constantly on guard in case the Elazni tried to attack with music skills again.

“I tried to kill you,” his cousin repeated. “On orders from the emperor himself.”