CHAPTER 37 – THE DRAGON KNIGHT SLAYER
JOHNNY WOLVESBANE
Maggie's transformation was a triumph, her metamorphosis into a formidable Harpy Dragon complete. A resounding, majestic roar emanated from her scaled jaws, a deafening symphony that sent debris scattering in its wake. Despite the unleashed power, Lysander Faradeiss, our adversary, stood unmoved. His azure blue eyes locked onto the Harpy Dragon, a stoic determination etched across his face.
As the supersonic scream of my draconic ally sent shockwaves through the air, Lysander's black cloak billowed in the tumultuous wind. With an air of nonchalance, he uttered words that cut through the chaos, his voice carrying a chilling calmness, "Reuniting with Maggie was a mistake, Johnny. You should have kept your nose out of the fire. Now, your life hangs by a thread."
Driven by the instincts of my powerful werewolf form, I vaulted towards the pinnacle of the Harpy Dragon's head. From this elevated vantage point, I gazed down upon Lysander, the silver-haired foe renowned as a Dragon Knight Slayer. With a taunting smirk, I addressed him, "From where I stand, your life is the one hanging in the balance. Two against one, and we wield the formidable Vesryn Pulse. Surrender now, and I may grant you a swift demise."
Lysander's momentary silence was broken by the audible nip of his lip, followed by a maniacal smirk that hinted at a mind teetering on the edge. "Well, well. Lady Luck seems to be avoiding me like the plague. First, Hiraya, and now, Johnny. It's getting frustrating," he mused, his tone dancing between annoyance and amusement.
Without warning, a bluish-dark aura enveloped the silver-maned dragon knight slayer. The sheer potency of the mana streaming from him exerted a palpable pressure, sending a shiver through anyone attuned to such energies. His reservoir of mana was staggering, an immense force that could rival one of the famed Erudites Twelve.
"...I'm not in the best mood right now. If a fight is what you're after, you're about to get your wish," he declared, his words carrying a promise of impending confrontation. Lysander's azure eyes radiated an ominous glow, casting an unsettling spell that crept down my spine.
Instinctively succumbing to a creeping fear, I urgently commanded my Harpy Dragon, "Rise!" The colossal creature stirred beneath me, sensing the impending clash of powers about to unfold.
Maggie, now a majestic Harpy Dragon, gracefully ascended to a height of thirty meters above the ground. Fixing her gaze on the seemingly motionless Lysander below, she unfurled her massive wings and launched a barrage of feather arrows in his direction. The projectiles, a manifestation of her formidable power, streaked through the air, seeking their elusive target.
In a swift response, Lysander invoked his "Lightspeed Accel" spell and darted with incredible speed to evade the onslaught. A bluish-white trail marked his nimble movements as he skillfully navigated the streets, sidestepping the deadly feathers that would have otherwise found their mark. Ascending the side of a building, he invoked another incantation, "Wings of Light," summoning ethereal blue wings that granted him flight.
Undeterred, I took charge, leaping upward with a resolute declaration to Maggie, "I'll handle this!" Drawing upon the Vesryn Pulse, I harnessed the Harpy Dragon's abilities as my own, conjuring green-feathered wings on my elbows. My werewolf claws gleamed menacingly as I prepared to engage the silver-maned adversary. With a fierce cry, I lunged towards Lysander, intent on slashing through his defenses and turning the tide in our favor. "Hraaah!"
"Forge!" In the eleventh hour, Lysander conjured an artificial katana into his grasp, deflecting my initial claw attack with calculated precision. Undeterred, I pressed on, launching a second slash with my remaining claws. However, Lysander's agility matched his skill, parrying the assault once again.
"Goddammit!" I exclaimed as the force of his counter sent me hurtling backward. The tales of Lysander's ability to dispatch a dragon knight in a single strike appeared to be more than mere exaggeration. His prowess on the battlefield mirrored that of a seasoned veteran, someone forged through the crucible of relentless training and actual warfare. Questions swirled in my mind – just who was he?
"Johnny, stay back!" came the telepathic command from the Harpy Dragon, a note of urgency underscoring the warning. As I regained my footing, I couldn't shake the feeling that facing Lysander required a strategic approach, a realization that his skills transcended the ordinary.
As the clash between Lysander and me unfolded, I hastily flapped my wings, distancing myself from our point of conflict. Seizing the opportunity, the Harpy Dragon, with a fierce determination, unleashed a torrent of flaming breath toward Lysander.
"Assimilate!" Lysander's voice resonated through the chaos as he extended his arm, seemingly catching the fiery stream. An unseen force enveloped the flames, as if an invisible funnel were drawing them in, creating an effect reminiscent of an insatiable black hole. The once-raging fire, now subdued, vanished into Lysander's grasp.
In an unexpected turn, he inhaled deeply and then, with a sinister grace, expelled a stream of flame identical to the one the Harpy Dragon had just unleashed. A realization struck me like a bolt of lightning – Lysander's target was not me but the majestic Harpy Dragon.
"What the-" I exclaimed in horror, witnessing the perilous situation. "Maggie!" The cry escaped my lips, a desperate plea for the safety of my draconic ally as it faced the retaliatory flames it had unwittingly unleashed.
The searing flames engulfed the Harpy Dragon, its majestic form crying out in pain as it plummeted to the ground. The impact carved a deep crater into the earth, and as the dust settled, a heartbreaking sight unfolded. The once-vibrant green feathers of the Harpy Dragon now bore the scars of the relentless fire, transformed into an ominous black.
An inferno of anger erupted within me. Clenching my fists, I bellowed with a primal intensity, "How dare you hurt my Maggie!"
The resolve to avenge the suffering inflicted upon the love of my life fueled my every step. With unbridled fury, I surged forward at breakneck speed, the thirst for retribution propelling me towards the man who had callously harmed my cherished companion.
"I will make you pay!" I roared, a guttural cry echoing my determination. My claws, sharp as the fangs of a vengeful beast, were primed to tear into the heart of the adversary before me. The memory of past grievances, embodied by the fate I had meted out to Gregory, fueled the fire within, propelling me toward a reckoning that echoed with the primal intensity of my war cry. "Raaaaaah!"
In the heat of my vengeful charge, Lysander remained unyielding, his arm extended to conjure a mysterious pink magical circle. Fearing it to be a counterattack spell, I doubled down on my determination and accelerated, believing that speed would secure victory in this aerial clash.
As I closed in on the enigmatic circle, Lysander calmly muttered the incantation, "Air Trampoline." Suddenly, upon contact, the pink magical circle acted like a whimsical force, propelling me away with unexpected vigor. The abrupt bounce redirected my trajectory, and I crashed violently into a nearby building.
The impact showered me in a cascade of debris — crushed concrete and shattered glass. Blood trickled down from my forehead, and minor cuts adorned my elbows and legs. Physically, I could endure, my body still primed for battle. However, the toll on my pride and willpower was an injury more profound than the superficial wounds I bore.
Despite the physical pain, the indomitable spirit within me wrestled with the humiliation of being cast aside by a spell as whimsical as an "Air Trampoline." Rising from the rubble, I grappled with the emotional bruising, determined to reclaim my footing in a battle that had taken an unexpected turn.
Lysander descended with an air of authority, landing gracefully and adopting a T-pose that radiated dominance. His measured steps carried him slowly towards me, a deliberate pace that seemed to amplify the weight of his judgmental gaze. Blue eyes, sharp and piercing, scrutinized every aspect of my existence.
"What...what are you?" I stammered, my voice betraying a mixture of awe and desperation. "How can you wield such a diverse array of spells?"
A smirk played on Lysander's lips as he responded, "I am living your dream. I am an Erudite."
"Bullshit!" I erupted, the disbelief ringing loud in my protest. Determined to defy his claims, I commanded my legs to lift me from the ground. Drawing upon the last reserves of my mana, I focused on amplifying the power of the Vesryn Pulse and activated my bloodline spell.
A surge of crimson fur enveloped my body, the transformation complete as I emerged as a bipedal Crimson Werewolf, now adorned with harpy wing enhancements. With newfound strength coursing through my veins, I charged at Lysander with an unbridled roar, "Raaaaaah!" The collision between us became an embodiment of my defiance, a declaration that even in the face of an Erudite, my determination burned brighter than ever.
In the moonlit night, Lysander's katana sliced through the air with a grace that mirrored the moon's glow. The blade reflected the celestial light, creating a silver streak that seemed to carve through the very fabric of reality.
Then, an abrupt darkness enveloped everything, and a silver streak materialized with blinding speed. "Moonlight Slash," Lysander declared as the ethereal blade cut through the shadows.
Before I could comprehend the unfolding danger, searing pain lanced through my body. The energy that had empowered my werewolf form was swiftly drained, leaving me defenseless and reverting me to my original humanoid state. My strength depleted, I knelt on the ground, helpless, as the silver-haired Erudite loomed over me.
Lysander seized my long crimson hair, tilting my head upward with a forceful grip. "This battle is over. Now, close your mouth and hear me out," he commanded, a sense of authority in his voice. "You see, you and I—"
The air suddenly whistled with a projectile hurtling through the wind. In the blink of an eye, Lysander staggered back, an arrow embedded in his chest. Coughing out black blood, he was momentarily incapacitated, his plans interrupted by an unseen force. The unexpected turn of events left me staring in shock at the silver-haired Erudite, now vulnerable and wounded.
CHAPTER 37 – THE DRAGON KNIGHT SLAYER
JOHNNY WOLVESBANE
Maggie's transformation was a triumph, her metamorphosis into a formidable Harpy Dragon complete. A resounding, majestic roar emanated from her scaled jaws, a deafening symphony that sent debris scattering in its wake. Despite the unleashed power, Lysander Faradeiss, our adversary, stood unmoved. His azure blue eyes locked onto the Harpy Dragon, a stoic determination etched across his face.
As the supersonic scream of my draconic ally sent shockwaves through the air, Lysander's black cloak billowed in the tumultuous wind. With an air of nonchalance, he uttered words that cut through the chaos, his voice carrying a chilling calmness, "Reuniting with Maggie was a mistake, Johnny. You should have kept your nose out of the fire. Now, your life hangs by a thread."
Driven by the instincts of my powerful werewolf form, I vaulted towards the pinnacle of the Harpy Dragon's head. From this elevated vantage point, I gazed down upon Lysander, the silver-haired foe renowned as a Dragon Knight Slayer. With a taunting smirk, I addressed him, "From where I stand, your life is the one hanging in the balance. Two against one, and we wield the formidable Vesryn Pulse. Surrender now, and I may grant you a swift demise."
Lysander's momentary silence was broken by the audible nip of his lip, followed by a maniacal smirk that hinted at a mind teetering on the edge. "Well, well. Lady Luck seems to be avoiding me like the plague. First, Hiraya, and now, Johnny. It's getting frustrating," he mused, his tone dancing between annoyance and amusement.
Without warning, a bluish-dark aura enveloped the silver-maned dragon knight slayer. The sheer potency of the mana streaming from him exerted a palpable pressure, sending a shiver through anyone attuned to such energies. His reservoir of mana was staggering, an immense force that could rival one of the famed Erudites Twelve.
"...I'm not in the best mood right now. If a fight is what you're after, you're about to get your wish," he declared, his words carrying a promise of impending confrontation. Lysander's azure eyes radiated an ominous glow, casting an unsettling spell that crept down my spine.
Instinctively succumbing to a creeping fear, I urgently commanded my Harpy Dragon, "Rise!" The colossal creature stirred beneath me, sensing the impending clash of powers about to unfold.
Maggie, now a majestic Harpy Dragon, gracefully ascended to a height of thirty meters above the ground. Fixing her gaze on the seemingly motionless Lysander below, she unfurled her massive wings and launched a barrage of feather arrows in his direction. The projectiles, a manifestation of her formidable power, streaked through the air, seeking their elusive target.
In a swift response, Lysander invoked his "Lightspeed Accel" spell and darted with incredible speed to evade the onslaught. A bluish-white trail marked his nimble movements as he skillfully navigated the streets, sidestepping the deadly feathers that would have otherwise found their mark. Ascending the side of a building, he invoked another incantation, "Wings of Light," summoning ethereal blue wings that granted him flight.
Undeterred, I took charge, leaping upward with a resolute declaration to Maggie, "I'll handle this!" Drawing upon the Vesryn Pulse, I harnessed the Harpy Dragon's abilities as my own, conjuring green-feathered wings on my elbows. My werewolf claws gleamed menacingly as I prepared to engage the silver-maned adversary. With a fierce cry, I lunged towards Lysander, intent on slashing through his defenses and turning the tide in our favor. "Hraaah!"
"Forge!" In the eleventh hour, Lysander conjured an artificial katana into his grasp, deflecting my initial claw attack with calculated precision. Undeterred, I pressed on, launching a second slash with my remaining claws. However, Lysander's agility matched his skill, parrying the assault once again.
"Goddammit!" I exclaimed as the force of his counter sent me hurtling backward. The tales of Lysander's ability to dispatch a dragon knight in a single strike appeared to be more than mere exaggeration. His prowess on the battlefield mirrored that of a seasoned veteran, someone forged through the crucible of relentless training and actual warfare. Questions swirled in my mind – just who was he?
"Johnny, stay back!" came the telepathic command from the Harpy Dragon, a note of urgency underscoring the warning. As I regained my footing, I couldn't shake the feeling that facing Lysander required a strategic approach, a realization that his skills transcended the ordinary.
As the clash between Lysander and me unfolded, I hastily flapped my wings, distancing myself from our point of conflict. Seizing the opportunity, the Harpy Dragon, with a fierce determination, unleashed a torrent of flaming breath toward Lysander.
"Assimilate!" Lysander's voice resonated through the chaos as he extended his arm, seemingly catching the fiery stream. An unseen force enveloped the flames, as if an invisible funnel were drawing them in, creating an effect reminiscent of an insatiable black hole. The once-raging fire, now subdued, vanished into Lysander's grasp.
In an unexpected turn, he inhaled deeply and then, with a sinister grace, expelled a stream of flame identical to the one the Harpy Dragon had just unleashed. A realization struck me like a bolt of lightning – Lysander's target was not me but the majestic Harpy Dragon.
"What the-" I exclaimed in horror, witnessing the perilous situation. "Maggie!" The cry escaped my lips, a desperate plea for the safety of my draconic ally as it faced the retaliatory flames it had unwittingly unleashed.
The searing flames engulfed the Harpy Dragon, its majestic form crying out in pain as it plummeted to the ground. The impact carved a deep crater into the earth, and as the dust settled, a heartbreaking sight unfolded. The once-vibrant green feathers of the Harpy Dragon now bore the scars of the relentless fire, transformed into an ominous black.
An inferno of anger erupted within me. Clenching my fists, I bellowed with a primal intensity, "How dare you hurt my Maggie!"
The resolve to avenge the suffering inflicted upon the love of my life fueled my every step. With unbridled fury, I surged forward at breakneck speed, the thirst for retribution propelling me towards the man who had callously harmed my cherished companion.
"I will make you pay!" I roared, a guttural cry echoing my determination. My claws, sharp as the fangs of a vengeful beast, were primed to tear into the heart of the adversary before me. The memory of past grievances, embodied by the fate I had meted out to Gregory, fueled the fire within, propelling me toward a reckoning that echoed with the primal intensity of my war cry. "Raaaaaah!"
In the heat of my vengeful charge, Lysander remained unyielding, his arm extended to conjure a mysterious pink magical circle. Fearing it to be a counterattack spell, I doubled down on my determination and accelerated, believing that speed would secure victory in this aerial clash.
As I closed in on the enigmatic circle, Lysander calmly muttered the incantation, "Air Trampoline." Suddenly, upon contact, the pink magical circle acted like a whimsical force, propelling me away with unexpected vigor. The abrupt bounce redirected my trajectory, and I crashed violently into a nearby building.
The impact showered me in a cascade of debris — crushed concrete and shattered glass. Blood trickled down from my forehead, and minor cuts adorned my elbows and legs. Physically, I could endure, my body still primed for battle. However, the toll on my pride and willpower was an injury more profound than the superficial wounds I bore.
Despite the physical pain, the indomitable spirit within me wrestled with the humiliation of being cast aside by a spell as whimsical as an "Air Trampoline." Rising from the rubble, I grappled with the emotional bruising, determined to reclaim my footing in a battle that had taken an unexpected turn.
Lysander descended with an air of authority, landing gracefully and adopting a T-pose that radiated dominance. His measured steps carried him slowly towards me, a deliberate pace that seemed to amplify the weight of his judgmental gaze. Blue eyes, sharp and piercing, scrutinized every aspect of my existence.
"What...what are you?" I stammered, my voice betraying a mixture of awe and desperation. "How can you wield such a diverse array of spells?"
A smirk played on Lysander's lips as he responded, "I am living your dream. I am an Erudite."
"Bullshit!" I erupted, the disbelief ringing loud in my protest. Determined to defy his claims, I commanded my legs to lift me from the ground. Drawing upon the last reserves of my mana, I focused on amplifying the power of the Vesryn Pulse and activated my bloodline spell.
A surge of crimson fur enveloped my body, the transformation complete as I emerged as a bipedal Crimson Werewolf, now adorned with harpy wing enhancements. With newfound strength coursing through my veins, I charged at Lysander with an unbridled roar, "Raaaaaah!" The collision between us became an embodiment of my defiance, a declaration that even in the face of an Erudite, my determination burned brighter than ever.
In the moonlit night, Lysander's katana sliced through the air with a grace that mirrored the moon's glow. The blade reflected the celestial light, creating a silver streak that seemed to carve through the very fabric of reality.
Then, an abrupt darkness enveloped everything, and a silver streak materialized with blinding speed. "Moonlight Slash," Lysander declared as the ethereal blade cut through the shadows.
Before I could comprehend the unfolding danger, searing pain lanced through my body. The energy that had empowered my werewolf form was swiftly drained, leaving me defenseless and reverting me to my original humanoid state. My strength depleted, I knelt on the ground, helpless, as the silver-haired Erudite loomed over me.
Lysander seized my long crimson hair, tilting my head upward with a forceful grip. "This battle is over. Now, close your mouth and hear me out," he commanded, a sense of authority in his voice. "You see, you and I—"
The air suddenly whistled with a projectile hurtling through the wind. In the blink of an eye, Lysander staggered back, an arrow embedded in his chest. Coughing out black blood, he was momentarily incapacitated, his plans interrupted by an unseen force. The unexpected turn of events left me staring in shock at the silver-haired Erudite, now vulnerable and wounded.
