The Mad WarDragon of Greed.

Chapter 1: The Betrayal.

“Filthy bastard,” a laboured voice cursed. “You’re no different from that tyrant of a father.”

Stravos slowly glided down until his boots pressed into the wet, muddy soil. What was peculiar was that the liquid beneath his feet was not rainwater; it was a mixture of his blood and the mud beneath him.

Golden blood trickled majestically down his battered body, spilling from his cuts and bruises. Its faint glow illuminated the wounds scattered across his body, making the sight of his own blood almost impossible to ignore.

“Did you really think we’d let you live?” another voice asked.

Stravos's fingers tightened around the broken hilt of his sword as his eyes slowly moved across the people surrounding him. Who would have thought that the people he trusted the most would be so quick to turn their blades against him?

He had given everything. He had betrayed his own father and helped bring down the tyrant who had ruled over them all, only to be branded no better than the man he had helped destroy.

His chest rose and fell heavily as the pain from his wounds spread through his body. Every breath scraped against his lungs, but he refused to lower his head before the people who had betrayed him.

Looking at the people surrounding him, Stravos let out an enraged roar. His voice tore through the heavens and shook the earth beneath their feet, causing the remaining soldiers to instinctively stagger backward.

Unknown writings dragged themselves across his body, appearing over his battered skin as his remaining strength surged. The strange markings crawled across his flesh while a faint pressure gathered around him, forcing several people nearby to tense.

“One last desperate struggle?” Amon, the leader of the alliance, asked as he watched him.

A faint, almost mischievous smile tugged at Amon's lips. He looked completely at ease despite the destruction surrounding them, as though Stravos's final struggle was nothing more than an amusing spectacle.

“Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of your possessions,” Amon continued, his smile widening slightly. “Your sacrifice will help cement the birth of a new era.”

Stravos's breathing suddenly stopped for a brief moment. His eyes narrowed as the words settled in his mind, and something cold slowly spread through his chest.

Realization struck him, and for the first time since the battle began, his attention shifted away from the weapons surrounding him. His wealth.

His eyes moved slowly across the faces surrounding him, and something inside his chest sank as the pieces finally came together. The promises, the alliance, and the war against his father suddenly looked different in the light of Amon's words.

They were after what he possessed. He should have known, because humans were greedy creatures, insatiable to the very end.

Amon, the King of Heroes and ruler of humanity, was no different. He had gathered the leaders of every major race to fight against Stravos's father, whom Amon himself had deemed a tyrant.

Stravos could now see the truth. They were all lies, carefully crafted by him, and Stravos had willingly walked straight into the trap.

A small, weak smile tore across Stravos's face despite the blood running from the corner of his mouth. His body was barely holding together, yet something in his expression made the soldiers around him hesitate.

They were getting nothing from him. He had no intention of losing, not here and certainly not to them.

“Why don’t we end this little farce, shall we?” Stravos asked, his voice rough and strained.

Before anyone could answer, an attacker lunged at him. Stravos raised his broken shield just in time, barely managing to position it between himself and the incoming blade.

The impact sent a violent tremor through his already aching arm, nearly forcing him to his knees, but he held his ground. His teeth clenched as he twisted his body, using the attacker's momentum against him before thrusting his half-broken sword into the man's abdomen.

The blade punched through flesh, and a sickening crack followed as it broke several ribs. The attacker gasped in pain, his eyes widening as Stravos left behind a ghastly wound before ripping the sword free.

The man collapsed into the mud, his body hitting the blood-soaked ground beside Stravos. For a brief moment, silence settled over the battlefield as everyone stared at the fallen warrior.

Then the others attacked.

What followed was a barrage of overwhelming attacks. Steel crashed against his broken shield, blades tore through what remained of his armour, and every impact sent another wave of pain through his battered body, but Stravos continued fighting.

They were all weak from facing his father, but not as weak as him. If he hadn’t taken the brute force of his father’s strongest attacks, he would have been able to escape.

But there was no escaping now. The only path left was through the people standing between him and freedom.

When one enemy fell, two more rose to attack. When two fell, six more rose to replace them, surrounding Stravos from every direction and denying him even a moment to breathe.

Stravos's movements gradually became slower. His breathing grew heavier, and his grip on his sword weakened with every passing moment as blood continued to drip from his wounds.

The golden drops mixed with the mud beneath his feet until he could barely distinguish where the battlefield ended and his blood began. Still, he fought, refusing to surrender even as his body screamed for him to stop.

Another strike slammed into his shield. The already fractured metal finally gave way beneath the force, splitting apart as the impact sent Stravos staggering backward.

His arm hung uselessly at his side as another blade cut across his shoulder. The sharp pain forced a strained grunt from his throat, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself upright.

Slowly and surely, Stravos became exhausted and overwhelmed. He stood broken and battered, his body trembling beneath the weight of his injuries while his breaths came in slow, uneven bursts as he struggled for air.

His vision blurred, and the figures surrounding him seemed to sway in and out of focus. Even then, his eyes remained fixed on Amon, refusing to give the man the satisfaction of seeing fear in them.

Amon slowly walked towards him, his mischievous grin widening with every step he took. His boots sank slightly into the muddy ground as he approached, completely unhurried as though he already knew how this would end.

Stravos's fingers twitched around the broken sword. He wanted to attack, but his body refused to move.

Amon stopped before him and looked over his battered body. His eyes briefly travelled across the blood covering Stravos before returning to his face, and the smile on his lips grew even wider.

“You would have made a great, fearsome Dragon God,” Amon said, his grin widening. “Good thing that won’t happen.”

Stravos's eyes widened at the words. Before he could react, Amon's hand pierced through his chest.

Pain exploded through his body, so sudden and overwhelming that his entire body stiffened. His mouth opened, but no sound came out as his fingers instinctively reached toward the arm buried in his chest.

Amon tore out Stravos's still-beating heart and raised it in his hand. The organ dripped golden blood between his fingers as he held it up like a trophy, a clear sign of triumph and victory.

Stravos stared at it in disbelief. His heart was still beating in Amon's hand, each faint movement becoming weaker as his own body began to lose its strength.

The strength slowly left Stravos's body as his knees finally gave way. He collapsed into the muddy ground, his golden blood spreading beneath him as the world around him began to lose its colour.

The world around Stravos slowly grew darker. His hearing faded, his vision dimmed, and the sounds of the battlefield became distant as though they were coming from somewhere far beyond his reach.

As his life slipped away, memories began flashing before his eyes. His father, the alliance, the wealth he had accumulated, and the people he had trusted all appeared within the fading fragments of his consciousness.

Everything he had fought for passed before him. Everything they had taken from him followed, leaving behind nothing but the bitter realization that the people he had trusted had been waiting for the opportunity to claim everything he possessed.

Finally, the face of Amon appeared in his fading vision, still holding his heart as though he had already claimed victory. Stravos stared at him for what might have been his final moment, his consciousness slowly disappearing into the darkness.