The Silent Plains remained wrapped in silence.
No one spoke. The wind returned gently, blowing across the pale sand in soft, whispering currents. It brushed through crimson hair, white strands, and black robes alike, carrying faint grains of dust that sparkled under the red sky. Yet nobody moved. The tension from Indura's earlier presence still lingered in the air like smoke after a great fire — heavy, lingering, refusing to fully dissipate.
For several long seconds, time itself seemed suspended. The world held its breath.
Indura stood motionless, golden eyes distant, staring at nothing and everything at once. Then he blinked slowly, a faint frown creasing his brow. He raised his right hand and stared at it, flexing his fingers with deliberate care, as if checking whether the limb truly belonged to him. The motion was subtle, almost imperceptible, but loaded with quiet introspection.
Something was wrong.
Not physically. His body obeyed him perfectly. Not even emotionally in the raw, explosive sense he was used to. It was deeper — a strange dissonance within himself. The words Amon had spoken, the visions of devastation they painted… they echoed inside him like distant thunder. He could almost see the fallen temples, the shattered statues, the erased histories, the broken remnants of what was once his empire. Yet instead of the burning rage he might have expected, he felt only a vast, detached calm.
The same calm the True Self carried.
Because the True Self was still him.
He let out a slow, quiet sigh that seemed to carry the weight of three thousand years.
What will I do now?
Vespera noticed immediately. She always did.
Her golden eyes softened with quiet concern as she studied him — the slight tension in his shoulders, the distant look in his gaze, the way his fingers lingered just a moment too long in the air. She stepped forward cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper.
"…Is it you?"
Indura turned his head toward her. The corners of his lips curved into a gentle, reassuring smile — warm, yet carrying that familiar regal weight.
"It is me, Blood Queen."
Sabrel spoke, her voice soft but carrying clear relief.
"I'm glad it's you… and not…"
She stopped herself, the unfinished words hanging in the air like a shadow she didn't want to name.
Indura turned to her with a faint, understanding smile — acknowledging the weight she chose not to voice.
He then turned toward the dragon.
It had remained bowing the entire time the True Self's presence dominated. Its massive head stayed lowered, wings tucked tightly against its body, a picture of absolute reverence and submission.
Indura smiled gently at the creature.
"Why are you still down there?"
The dragon slowly raised its head, but its brown eyes remained averted, refusing to meet Indura's gaze. Its powerful body trembled slightly — not from fear, but from deep, instinctive awe and loyalty long buried, now reawakened.
Indura then looked at Amon, who was still on his knees, head lowered in complete submission.
"You can stand."
Amon didn't move. He physically couldn't. His body refused to obey, paralyzed by a terror that ran deeper than any command or order. The once-proud Master of the Tower looked small and broken in the sand.
Sabrel stepped forward, a small but genuine smile breaking through the tension.
"Congratulations, Indura."
He raised an eyebrow.
"For?"
"You've found your first dragon," she said, glancing at the massive creature beside him. "Now only a legion more to go."
Indura was silent for a moment, letting her words settle. One dragon. A single, loyal remnant. The road ahead suddenly felt both clearer and infinitely longer. A light, almost refreshing breeze swept across the plains, as if the heavy tension had finally cracked enough to let fresh air breathe through.
Indura took a few steps forward and stopped, staring at the towering structure ahead. His expression grew thoughtful, distant.
So... Drake was my sword this whole time?!
The realization settled over him like a quiet revelation. He remembered trying to lift it once — how impossibly heavy it had felt in his hands. Yet an old man named Asterdolf had wielded it with such power.
How did he attain it?
Too many missing pieces. They were all out there, somewhere.
The generals. The Disciple of Darkness. The Legion. My disappearance. And Drake… where is it now?
He knew the True Self would not tell him everything. But someone out there remembered.
Everyone's eyes turned to him — Vespera watchful and concerned, Sabrel attentive, Amon still trembling on his knees.
Indura smiled, quiet but resolute.
"I'm going to find them. All of them."
Suddenly, everyone heard footsteps.
From the tower, all the forces hidden within emerged — every warrior, every subordinate under Amon's command. They walked out in orderly silence until they reached the sand, then fell to their knees in unison, bowing deeply and following their master's lead. A complete, silent surrender.
Indura, Vespera, and Sabrel gave no visible reaction. It did not matter to them.
Indura turned his back on the kneeling army, hands clasped behind him as he gazed out across the endless plains.
Sabrel spoke quietly, her voice carrying a note of grim acceptance.
"At least now we understand the scale of what Dark Haven possesses. I know almost nothing about them… I was sealed for so long. I've been in the dark about much of what happened while I was gone."
A quiet moment passed. The wind brushed softly across the plains, carrying grains of pale sand that sparkled faintly under the red sky. No one rushed to fill the silence.
Vespera spoke next, her tone low and measured, almost distant.
"We may not get all the answers from here. I have lived long enough to witness Dark Haven's rule over this world."
She continued, voice steady but carrying the weight of centuries.
"I had to move my castle from place to place for years… until the dark forces finally receded. It was a constant flight."
Sabrel looked at her with quiet concern.
Vespera met her gaze briefly, then looked away.
"I know a place," she said. "A place once used by those who resisted. Whether it still exists or not, I don't know… but it may be worth looking into. One of the Dragon King's followers — those who tried to fight back — could still be there."
Indura looked at her. Vespera turned her gaze away, a subtle tension in her posture.
Sabrel noticed the shift and asked.
"Where is this place?"
Vespera admitted softly.
"It is here, in the East. Far from the Silent Plains. We could fly there… unless we wish to pass through the Stone Giants' territory."
Indura smiled, bringing his hands together with quiet decisiveness.
"It is decided then."
They all looked at him.
"We will go through the Stone Giants' territory."
Sabrel's expression shifted to one of cautious surprise mixed with reluctant respect. Vespera's golden eyes showed a flicker of unease, but she remained composed, though her fingers tightened slightly at her sides.
Amon, still on his knees, looked utterly confused. He had never seen the Dragon King so… positive. Almost lighthearted in the face of such uncertainty. It unsettled him more than the earlier overwhelming presence had.
Indura walked toward Amon and stopped a few paces away, hands clasped behind his back.
The True Self forgot to ask him about the Legion.
He looked down at the kneeling man.
"Where is the Legion?"
Amon remained silent for a long moment, head still bowed, shoulders visibly tense. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft whisper of wind across the sand. Finally, he spoke, voice low and strained, as if each word cost him something.
"I do not know. The last time I saw or heard of them… they headed over the Red Sea and disappeared. That was three thousand years ago. Ever since then, I have had no knowledge of their existence."
Vespera narrowed her golden eyes as she processed the words, her expression sharpening with quiet calculation.
"Red Sea… That's between the East and the North."
Indura's lips curved into a faint, thoughtful smile.
"It's perfect. Starting here was already good enough. If only this person had not tried to kill us."
The words carried a light edge, almost playful, yet they landed with weight. The kneeling forces behind Amon remained deathly still, as if afraid even to breathe too loudly.
Indura crouched down slowly, meeting Amon's gaze at eye level.
Amon's breath hitched sharply. He had never seen the Dragon King this close. The proximity felt worse than the overwhelming pressure earlier — intimate, terrifying, like staring into the abyss of history itself. Golden eyes that had once commanded legions now looked directly into his soul. His body trembled uncontrollably, cold sweat breaking across his skin. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. The fear was paralyzing, ancient, and deeply personal.
Indura's voice was calm and low.
"Now… about that Disciple."
He continued, golden eyes steady and unblinking.
"What is her name?"
Amon's reaction was immediate — a deep, primal fear stirred within him, old and buried. His face paled further, pupils dilating with terror. For a moment, it looked as though the mere mention of her might break him completely.
"I… I do not know her name," he said shakily, voice barely above a whisper. "I have never seen her face. I only know her voice."
He continued, trembling.
"The Ruler of this region… the Ember Queen… she is connected to the Disciple."
Indura touched his chin, deep in thought, golden eyes distant for a brief moment.
From within, the True Self spoke — a quiet, cold warning that echoed through his mind like distant thunder.
Do not think about it.
Indura smiled.
He rose to his feet with graceful ease and turned to the two women.
"I think we have everything we needed from here. The journey ahead awaits."
Sabrel sighed, a mix of resignation and quiet resolve on her face.
"Agreed."
Vespera nodded kindly, though her golden eyes still held quiet vigilance and a trace of lingering unease.
Indura stepped away from Amon, walking away with calm purpose. Sabrel and Vespera turned and followed, leaving the kneeling forces behind them like forgotten statues.
Suddenly, Indura's stomach rumbled — loud enough that both women clearly heard it.
Vespera blinked, a faint, amused smile tugging at her lips despite everything. Sabrel raised an eyebrow, visibly fighting back a laugh.
Indura chuckled lightly, almost sheepishly.
"I haven't eaten ever since the Grand Bout."
Vespera looked at him.
Although Sabrel informed me about the possible two sides of the Dragon King, actually seeing it is…
She didn't finish the thought.
Sabrel then said with dry humor.
"I haven't eaten in three thousand years, so you cannot imagine my pain."
Indura turned his head to her, smiling.
"True. I cannot, but you've missed out a lot. Some delicacies taste so good, just very small, since we have large bellies. I know someone who could help you out, but I don't know where that person is right now."
Sabrel chuckled for a moment, shortly enjoying the light bond forming between them.
Indura spoke again.
"When I was—"
The sentence did not finish.
They all stopped walking. Their senses sharpened instantly. They all felt it — a presence that should not belong.
They turned around, staring back at the kneeling forces. All were still kneeling… except one.
Amon.
He was standing, but he looked… wrong.
Indura, Sabrel, and Vespera all looked at him. No one spoke. Only the quiet wind passed through.
Amon's body began to tremble violently. Then, he slowly lifted his trembling arm. A single tear fell from one of his eyes.
"H-Help… D-Dragon Ki—"
The word didn't finish. He clutched at his chest in sudden, excruciating pain.
The scene turned nightmarish.
His wrist snapped with a sharp, sickening crack. Then his shoulder. The silence that followed was deafening.
Vespera took a step back, eyes widening. Sabrel bent low, ready for what would come. Indura remained still, watching calmly.
Then… dark energy burst out of Amon's body in violent waves — pouring from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears like thick black smoke. His body snapped and twisted at unnatural angles as he cried out in pure agony. The energy fully consumed him, his form dissolving into streams of dark aura. His screams became distorted, warped, until they disappeared entirely.
Then silence.
The dark energy raged on, swirling into a massive vortex that rose into the air. The once-kneeling forces scattered in panic, fleeing desperately — but tendrils of darkness sprouted from the aura, snapping at every fleeing body like living whips. They pulled them screaming into the vortex, absorbing even their cries.
The aura coiled violently. The sky turned a deep, sickly purple. Thick, unnatural clouds thickened rapidly, blocking out the red sun. The world around the Silent Plains went dark — the air grew heavy and cold, carrying the metallic tang of blood and ozone. The ground trembled faintly. Distant howls echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once.
Vespera's eyes sharpened.
This energy… It's one of the dark forces. A manifestation!
Indura folded his arms, watching with calm interest.
"Oh!"
The aura coiled tighter, then condensed into a massive dark orb crackling with malevolent power.
Sabrel gritted her teeth. Her sword materialized in her grip. In a streak of white frost, she shot forward and thrust powerfully, sending a devastating frost beam screaming toward the orb.
Then… from the orb, with a deafening crack, a massive hand broke through — twisted, clawed, and wreathed in darkness. It parried the beam with contemptuous ease, sending the frost attack hurtling harmlessly into the vast plains where it vanished into the unnatural silence.
Sabrel hovered in the air, staring at the emerging horror.
A creature!... just parried by attack!
The dragon roared furiously at the orb — a deep, earth-shaking challenge that rolled across the darkened plains like thunder. Its wings flared wide, silver veins pulsing with power as it positioned itself protectively near Indura, brown eyes locked on the swirling mass with primal hostility.
Indura chuckled, golden eyes gleaming with genuine interest and quiet amusement. This was new. This was entertaining.
Sabrel landed smoothly beside him, sword still gripped tightly.
They all watched in tense silence as the orb began to crack violently. Fractures spread like spiderwebs across its surface, glowing with malevolent purple light. With a deafening shatter, it exploded outward in a storm of dark shards that dissolved into nothing.
From within emerged the entity.
It was huge — easily twice the height of a tall man, but not monstrously oversized. Humanoid in shape, yet fundamentally wrong. Its skin looked like living obsidian armor, segmented plates that shifted and breathed with faint purple veins running beneath like corrupted blood.
Long, twisted dark horns curved backward from its head, while jagged, blade-like horns sprouted from its shoulders, elbows, waist, and legs like natural weapons grown from its own flesh. Its face was demonic — a flattened nose with wide, flaring nostrils, a lipless mouth filled with needle-like teeth, and three glowing purple eyes: two where they should be, and a third, larger, unblinking eye on its forehead that seemed to see too much, too deeply. Long, flowing dark purple hair cascaded down its back like liquid shadow, moving as if alive.
The creature released a vast wave of aura. It rippled outward like a shockwave, sending sand flying in all directions and the air itself trembling. Indura, Sabrel, and Vespera stood firm, unmoved by the force.
Then silence.
The entity yawned lazily, scratching its neck with long black claws as if waking from a nap. It descended slowly, landing with unnatural grace. It knelt on one knee, bowing its head low toward some unseen direction in the distance, as if paying respect to its unseen master. After a moment, it rose and looked at the towering structure, head tilting slightly as it observed the tower stretching into the darkened clouds.
Then it turned toward the three.
Its triple gaze was indifferent, almost bored — as if they were insignificant insects not worth the effort of true attention.
It looked at its own hands, flexing its claws, and spoke in a voice like grinding stone mixed with hundreds of overlapping whispers.
"All who are born are born from darkness… and all who die will return to darkness."
It slowly rose into the air, dark aura swirling around its form like a living cloak.
"I am a blessing given form. A blessing manifested to serve the darkness and worship the darkness. I am a fragment of perfection. A fragment of the truth."
The creature slowly looked around the Silent Plains once more.
Its three eyes moved independently.
One studied the sky. One stared at Sabrel. The third remained fixed on Indura.
It was learning.
Indura's smile widened, eyes gleaming with excitement.
Now this... is worth my time.
From within, the True Self spoke coldly in his mind.
Kill it. If it is a blessing bestowed upon Amon, his soul was already owned. It will report back to its creator.
Indura's grin sharpened.
Creator!… Is it the Disciple?
The True Self continued.
If it reports back, you will stand no chance. Kill it before it realizes its purpose. Right now, it is young. A newborn.
Indura rolled his neck, cracking it with a satisfied sound.
"Understood."