BLOOD OF THE DRAGON GOD

Chapter 8: The first flight

The sky tore open like a wet piece of paper, and the monsters came crawling out of the tear.

Thick, oily purple smoke drifted through the streets of the lower districts, smelling of rotten meat and old sulfur. The ground kept shaking as smaller spatial rifts cracked across the cobblestones, letting packs of low-level demons drop into the panic-stricken crowd. They looked like skinless dogs with jagged bone spikes growing along their spines and red eyes that burned with a mindless, vicious hunger.

Look at the inner wall, Vivienne shouted, pointing a shaking finger toward the upper terraces of the city.

High above the chaos, a massive, shimmering gold dome of magical energy was rising, completely enclosing the royal palace and the wealthy noble estates. The high mages were sealing themselves inside, turning their backs on the common citizens below.

They are leaving the outer slums to burn, Logan said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, dark growl. They are not even sending a single squad to help these people.

It is standard containment protocol, Logan, Garrick said, grabbing his arm to hold him back as a crowd of screaming merchants sprinted past them. The academy protects the crown first. We have to fall back to the secondary barracks and secure the knights.

I am not falling back anywhere, Logan said, yanking his arm out of the captain's iron grip. My friends died on the border because we were treated like garbage. I am not standing here watching these people get slaughtered while the mages hide behind their fancy gold wall.

Logan, wait, Vivienne called out, but the boy was already running headfirst into the smoke, his standard iron sword drawn and ready.

Garrick swore loudly, drawing his massive broadsword. If he dies, his bloodline dies with him. Come on, Investigator.

The lower district was a maze of burning market stalls and collapsing wooden houses. Logan sliced through a demonic hound that lunged at him from an alleyway, the black, acidic blood sizzling against his blade. He could hear the high-pitched crying of children somewhere up ahead, trapped by the spreading fire.

He broke through a wall of thick black smoke and found himself in a small, dead-end courtyard. A group of five young children were huddled together against a brick wall, sobbing in terror. Three massive bone-spiked hounds were circling them, their jaws dripping with foul, dark saliva.

Get away from them, Logan yelled, charging the nearest beast.

He drove his sword straight through the creature's neck, but the remaining two hounds instantly turned on him, their red eyes flashing as they sprang forward simultaneously. One snapped its teeth around his shoulder, its jagged fangs sinking deep into his leather vest.

Logan screamed in pain, the heat in his chest exploding into life. The dragon crest beneath his collarbone burned white-hot, sending a massive jolt of primal energy straight into his limbs. He grabbed the hound by its throat with his bare hand, his fingers briefly turning into thick black scales as he crushed the beast's windpipe and threw it across the dirt.

The last hound backed away, letting out a low, uneasy whine as it sensed the sudden change in Logan's presence.

Are you alright? Vivienne shouted, bursting into the courtyard with Garrick right behind her. She quickly fired two bolts of blue light, hitting the remaining hound and turning it into dust.

I am fine, Logan gasped, clutching his bleeding shoulder as the scales receded into his skin. We need to get these kids out of here. The rifts are widening.

More screeches echoed from the rooftops. Dozens of hounds were climbing over the tiles, their red eyes locking onto the small group trapped in the dead end. There were too many of them to fight with standard steel, and Vivienne’s hands were already shaking from her low mana reserves.

We are cornered, Garrick said, setting his boots and raising his broadsword. Logan, if you have any of that dragon power left, you better use it right now. I do not care who sees it.

I cannot control it completely yet, Logan said, his breath ragged. It only reacts when I am about to die.

Then find another way, Vivienne pleaded, pulling the crying children behind her robes.

Logan looked up at the burning sky. The heavy purple smoke was swirling into a massive vortex directly above the slums. A strange, ancient instinct, buried deep within his awakened bloodline, whispered a rhythmic melody into the back of his mind. It was not a spell. It was a call.

Logan closed his eyes, took a deep, massive breath into his lungs, and let out a long, high-pitched whistle.

The sound was bizarrely clear, cutting through the roaring flames, the crashing buildings, and the screams of the demons. It resonated with the high clouds, vibrating through the very air like a tuning fork.

What are you doing? Garrick asked, staring at him as if he had lost his mind. A whistle isn't going to kill these things.

Just watch, Logan whispered, his eyes snapping open.

The wind suddenly changed direction, blowing with a fierce, violent force that scattered the demonic hounds across the rooftops. A massive, dark shadow dropped out of the purple clouds like a falling mountain, blocking out the light of the fires.

With a deafening, metallic roar that shook the brick walls of the courtyard, a wild, massive wyvern crashed down into the center of the street.

The beast was colossal, its hide covered in thick, jagged iron-gray scales that looked like armor plates. Its wingspan was wide enough to cover three houses, and its long, spiked tail smashed two demonic hounds into paste with a single, casual flick. Its golden eyes, slit with dark reptilian pupils, burned with a fierce, independent wildness as it snapped its massive jaws, swallowing another demon whole.

The surrounding hounds instantly scattered in absolute panic, recognizing a apex predator that was far older and more dangerous than anything from their own dark world.

Vivienne stumbled back, her eyes wide with a profound, breathless shock. A wild wyvern. Here? They haven't descended from the peaks in over a century.

Garrick did not move an inch, his broadsword lowering slightly as he stared at the mountain of scales and teeth. This is impossible.

The great beast turned its massive head toward the small courtyard, its nostrils flaring as it caught the scent of the blood in the air. It took a slow, heavy step forward, the ground groaning under its immense weight. The children screamed, hiding their faces in Vivienne's robes.

Logan did not move. He stood his ground, his golden dragon crest glowing brightly through the tear in his bloody shirt.

The wyvern stopped just two feet away from him, its hot, sulfurous breath blowing Logan's dark hair back from his forehead. It opened its massive mouth, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth that could bite a horse in half.

Then, to the complete and utter shock of everyone present, the terrifying monster slowly closed its jaws. It lowered its massive, armored head down into the dirt, stopping right at Logan's boots in a gesture of absolute, undeniable submission.

It answered you, Vivienne whispered, her voice barely a breath in the sudden quietness of the street. Logan, it is bowing to you.