The city of Verlyn was still trembling as Lyona and I ran through the ruins of the plaza. The wave of the green dragon hadn't subsided—if anything, it grew even wilder. Bursts of light and temporal wind forced us to run in zigzags, shielding ourselves from dust and shards of stone flying everywhere.
"I… I can't keep this up!" I gasped, trying to steady my breath while swatting away debris that nearly hit my head.
Lyona glanced back, her face half-covered by the shadow of dark clouds. "Focus! We need to head west of the plaza— from there we can see the pattern of the waves more clearly!"
I nodded, trying to suppress my panic. But every time the dragon dove, our shadows shifted slightly backward, as if time itself rejected our presence on this path. The temporal distortion was… strange. Too controlled. As if an eye was watching.
And then I felt it. A gentle but sharp pressure, like the air around us was holding its breath. I turned to the side. "Lyona… do you feel this?"
She frowned. "Yes… there's… someone here. Not among the ruins. But… controlling."
Before I could ask, a black flash appeared at the far end of the plaza. Not bright—just a tall, still shadow. But the aura around it made the dragon's waves slow down, as if the beast hesitated.
"Look at that!" Lyona pointed. "A silhouette…"
I held my breath. That figure—tall, black, faceless, but its aura… familiar. My heartbeat pounded. Everything we'd experienced since the Northern Archive, every temporal whisper… this was it. Marchaos. Makoto B.
The shadow didn't approach, didn't attack. It simply stood, facing the dragon firmly. But in its silence, the waves changed. Every burst of the dragon's light that had been chaotic now swerved, striking an empty zone at the edge of the plaza.
Lyona's eyes widened. "He… is controlling the waves. But… without touching us."
I felt that vibration in my head again—an unfamiliar whisper, familiar at the same time, but not a human voice.
"You're too fast… too afraid… look at the path…"
I swallowed. "That… isn't him speaking directly. But… his power. Guiding the dragon without touching it."
The next green flash plunged straight toward the empty row of shops—we dodged it, but the attack nearly shattered the old fountain in the plaza's center. Dust erupted, mixing with the crash of wood and stone breaking apart.
Lyona leapt, her sword slicing through the remaining energy in the air. "Did you see that?! The waves split! He… forced the dragon to strike a safe path!"
I ran closer, gripping her hand. "You're right! We can follow this pattern, but hurry!"
The black shadow shifted slightly to the left, and the dragon's wave bent again. Every movement from him was precise, as if the dragon were merely a pawn and Marchaos the player controlling the board.
"I… I don't understand," I whispered. "Why is he helping us? He… could destroy this city on his own."
Lyona stared at the silhouette without blinking. "He… doesn't want to destroy. He… is testing. Measuring us."
The dragon dove again—more aggressive—but each time the shadow moved, its attack flowed toward empty ground. I felt as though the entire space-time around the plaza was under the control of that presence—light waves, temporal distortions, even the whispers piercing our minds.
I shouted over the roaring wind. "Marchaos! Why don't you show yourself?! Tell us what you want from us!"
The silhouette… lowered its head slowly, as if weighing my words. Then its body tilted, and for a moment the dragon's green light curled, forming a small circle in the air—not attacking, just warning.
Lyona looked at me. "He says… it's not time yet. But… he's showing the path."
I swallowed, cold sweat sliding down my neck. "The right path… this is our path?"
She nodded. "Yes… but we have to move fast. One wrong step, and the waves could reverse everything."
We moved along the pattern, leaping between ruins and blocking debris. The dragon looked frustrated, striking empty ground while Marchaos remained still, observing. A single subtle motion from him changed the dragon's entire trajectory.
I used the brief pause to breathe. "Lyona… why doesn't he attack us? He could end us with one blow."
Lyona twirled her sword. "He… is testing. We… have to prove we can endure and understand his path. If we fail, not only we'll be destroyed… but the whole city."
The next wave crashed just beside us, creating an explosion of light that sent dust and shards everywhere. I felt the temporal pressure again—our shadows pulled slightly back—but this time we moved more fluidly, syncing with the rhythm.
The silhouette—Marchaos—raised one hand, and the final wave from the north… stopped right at an empty edge of the plaza. For a moment, the dragon roared, then pulled back, waiting.
I choked, my chest pounding. "He… made the dragon stop. With just one hand… he's too strong."
Lyona lowered her head, touching her sword to the ground. "We… survived… but this isn't a victory. He… only showed the path."
I stared at the black silhouette, waiting for another sign. But the shadow slowly dissolved, merging with the night. Only the cold aura remained, as if Marchaos still watched from afar, waiting for the right time to appear again.
I swallowed, scanning the ruins around us. "Do you think… we can withstand the next wave alone?"
Lyona took my hand. Her eyes were fixed on the sky, which was beginning to brighten with dawn in the east. "We… will try. But one thing is clear—he… Marchaos… is watching. And he's not finished."
I nodded, feeling the tension on my shoulders but also a small relief. We survived… for now.
And above, that temporal entity—the black silhouette known as Marchaos—smiled faintly within the shadows, vanishing without a sound, leaving behind a trembling city and two young adventurers slowly realizing how vast their world truly was.