Draco's eyes flashed. "No. I'm a bloodhound."
With that, he unleashed a blizzard of meter-long icicles—the Ice Storm —striking the legion from all sides. While chaos erupted across the battlefield, Draco used the distraction to scan for the cannon, feeling for the telltale pulse of demonic power. Most would have hesitated, but Draco was already moving, using every ounce of skill to weave through the storm.
The icy barrage left many demons wounded, but Lura and Razo remained untouched, their auras flaring with power. Lura's purple flames licked hungrily at the ground, while Razo's eyes burned with fury. "Impressive," Lura mused, his gaze unfazed, even a bit bored. "But you'll need more than parlor tricks to save yourself."
"Kill him!" Razo roared. Arrows and projectiles rained toward Draco as he dodged, vaulted onto a beam, and with a swift slash, severed the chain holding him up. The beam crashed down, launching Draco upward—he landed hard atop a rusted scaffold, breath coming fast.
Above the chaos, Draco finally spotted it: the cannon, a massive beast of metal and dark energy, shielded by a shifting veil of demonic energy. He had only seconds before the demons regrouped. Gritting his teeth, Draco summoned his power, lightning crackling at his fingertips. Thunder boomed as a bolt of lightning ripped from his hands, striking the cannon's defenses and sending a spray of sparks flying through the night. The barrier flickered violently—just for a heartbeat, it was vulnerable.
Draco drew a shaky breath. This was his only chance. If he failed, Nixara would fall. He sprinted toward the cannon, lightning and ice swirling at his hands, ready to deliver the finishing blow—when agony lanced through his side. He was sent flying, claws digging into the ground to stop himself, inches from the edge. Draco struggled to his feet as he met a terrible sight. " It's over." Lura stood in front of the cannon, the other demons behind him, one order away from charging towards Draco. " I admire your cunning, boy. But you can't win. I have allies; you are alone. Join us. Or die."
Draco gazed at the edge. Even if he survived, the cannon would have been fired. And they would be able to fire it, over and over, until there was nothing left of Nixara. Draco's life flashed before his eyes. He had joined the demon hunters to kill the demons that ruined his family, his life, everything. He chuckled sadly, remembering his mom's final sacrifice to save him. And her last words as she slowly faded away. 'Draco, be strong. Survive.' "Sorry Mom," Draco sighed sadly, " I made a promise I can't keep." Draco turned to Lura. " Thanks for the offer, but my answer is no. I didn't endure humiliation, scorn, and mockery for ten years just to have it washed down the drain by your kind. Suffering has become second skin. So you know what?" Draco asked, his claws growing sharp and his eyes glowing crimson. "I'm going to join my mom. And you guys are coming with me."
Lura snapped his fingers,dan demons surged towards Draco from every direction, but fortune favored him. Overhead, a storm rolled in—rain pouring, thunder rumbling, and lightning crackling across the sky. With elemental energy all around, Draco felt his affinities intensify, his power growing stronger as the storm raged. And with a storm so powerfuland the stakes of the battle, higher than ever, Draco prepared his most powerful and dangerous card: Surge, an ancient technique that absorbed all the electricity in a 100-meter radius and overloaded the users' core, granting them insane strength, speed, and control over the lightning affinity. However, the backlash was just as severe; he couldn't fail. Draco had a plan, an insane one, but this battle had long crossed that line. Draco summoned his weapon, a longsword gleaming silver in the moonlight, and sprinted torwards the enemy, his pace increasing with each stride, and the distance closing between the two forces. The demons crashed into Draco, but he held his ground, tearing through the tide like a force of death. He was incredible, downing hordes of demons that would have subdued any other Master, but even he had his limit. Soon, Draco was riddled with wounds, his sword swinging limply by his side. The demons circled him, wary of his power, but the cannon was still active, ready to fire. In a fit of rage, Draco hurled his sword at the cannon, but the damage was slight, with only a part of the sword managing to breach its hull; and the cannon was still intact; seconds from firing. "Checkmate," Lura said finally, Draco dropping to one knee. Razo walked forward, his giant axe sparking against the scaffold. "Any last words?" "Yeah, it's stalemate, asshole." Draco smiled, his eyes gleaming with madness.
Strong as Draco was, even he knew he was no match for an entire legion of demons. So, rather than die at their hands , he chose his own fate. He had cast Stormcaller, a spell that gathered electricity and released it as a single, powerful bolt of lightning. He couldn't target the core, but his blade's ability to attract lightning, plus the fact the sword was metal, made it a perfect conductor. The sword had gone deep, deep enough for its very tip to reach the core. So before the cannon could release an attack that would unravel Nixara, before Razo could strike down with the finishing blow, and before Lura could shout an order to stop it, a powrful bolt of lightning struck the heart of the cannon, Draco accepted death, and the site went up in flames.