The hydra-manticore twisted and turned in the sky in a desperate struggle, nine necks writhing like living whips, venomous heads snapping at empty air. Cain and Little Purple faced 02 alone—no other wyvern dared intervene. The rest of the flock circled high above, wings beating in uneasy rhythm, eyes wide with instinctive wariness. The pressure radiating from the chiric beast was suffocating; even the storm clouds overhead seed to part around it.
Cain refused to yield ground.
His massive wings snapped outward—black mbranes stretched taut—and he clamped both fore-talons around one of 02's thicker necks. With a powerful downward beat he pulled, dragging the ginormous fra upward.
02 screeched, wings thrashing wildly, but Cain's grip was iron. Muscle and scale strained; the creature's weight fought against him, yet he rose—higher, higher—refusing to let gravity claim victory.
02 burst in a surge of raw energy— three throats unified in a single, ear-shattering roar of pure rage. The shockwave blasted Cain backward, talons scraping across armored scales, leaving long silver gouges. He twisted mid-air, wings flaring to arrest his montum, red eyes never leaving his target.
Three heads aligned in an instant—dangerous, synchronized speed. Each maw began to glow with a different color: crimson fire, deep sapphire water, blinding yellow-white lightning.
Hanna's voice rose from below, sharp with surprise.
"Strengthening? It's using a manticore's skills!"
"What do you expect, Hanna?" Anastas replied, eyes fixed on the distant white-haired figure floating above it all. "That man created it."
He paused, voice dropping.
"I'm starting to believe my speculation."
The three glowing heads opened their mouths in perfect unison.
In a blink, three dangerously powerful elental beams blasted outward—flas and a high-pressure water turret roaring toward Cain, while the third head finished charging its lightning attack, arcs already forking along its jaws.
Cain retaliated instantly.
His own maw opened wide.
Red flas erupted—demonic, hungry, hotter than forge-fire. The twin streams of fla and water collided with his breath in a violent explosion of steam and superheated mist. For a heartbeat the attacks held—then Cain's flas began to push back, consuming the water turret inch by inch, turning it into hissing vapor.
The lightning head prepared to fire.
Little Purple moved.
He turned into a dangerously violet streak—descending like a falling cot. The massive illusory thunder dragon overhead mirrored the motion—jaws wide, wings folded, diving straight toward the lightning head.
The head reacted—blasting its yellow-white beam.
Boom!
Crackle!
Little Purple was hit—enveloped in 02's thunder. Violet scales flared; his speed diminished instantly as opposing lightning coursed through his body, slowing every muscle, every nerve. Yet he did not stop. Montum carried him forward—he sliced clean through the lightning head, severing it at the base. The decapitated neck spurted arcs of electricity that grounded harmlessly into the sky.
Cain increased the span of his fla breath—deliberately widening the cone. The fire beca a roaring wall—demonic heat that no ordinary wyvern could produce.
"Ohh… this is no normal fla," Dax murmured from above, intrigue sharpening his gaze.
02's water attack finally pushed the flas back—but too late. The fire head was already assimilating, scales blackening and cracking under the heat. With urgency in its remaining eyes, the other six heads began to regenerate—flesh bubbling, bone snapping into place at frantic speed.
"Blitz!"
Little Purple surged again—now cloaked in stolen yellow lightning. He sliced off the regenerating fire head mid-growth, using the absorbed current to slow the process. He streaked upward in a yellowish-purple thunder trail, leaving cauterized stumps behind.
Cain's flas consud the original fire head completely—roasting it to charred ruin. The water attack faltered, blocked entirely by the demonic inferno.
But the flas were too wide—spreading across 02's entire being. Scales bubbled and popped; flesh blackened and peeled. It screeched in pain—attacks halting as agony overrode instinct.
Little Purple fell like a streak—bursting in and out of the abdon in a single pass. Intestines poured out in steaming ropes—green, slick, reeking of venom and ozone.
Cain did not hesitate.
With a speed he should not have possessed—wings folding, body becoming a black streak—he crashed into 02 from above. The impact drove them both downward—two titans spiraling toward the earth.
02 struggled—front talons like curved swords digging deep into Cain's chest, carving through scales and parasitic suit alike. It tried to heal—flesh knitting, heads regrowing—but Cain's eyes were pure predator now: red pupils dilated to pinpricks, lips peeled back from teeth that glead like obsidian blades.
"Don't tell it wants to kill it?" Hanna whispered below, stunned.
Nadia's expression mirrored hers—surprise flickering across her usually serene features.
Anastas knelt—hands clasped, begging under his breath for Cain to end the beast.
Zain rose to his feet—smacking Anastas on the head without looking.
His gaze remained locked on the wyverns.
"They fit Captain perfectly," he said quietly. "Their flow is astounding. If only we could integrate this."
"I see you're healed, Vice-Captain," Anastas muttered, rubbing his head.
Zain tasted sothing bitter in his mouth.
"Where you expecting not to be?"
Anastas raised both hands dramatically.
"Ahh! No no no, Captain—I prayed to all the food gods to heal you. Now see you, my friend!"
His voice turned overly theatrical, but the relief was real.
Zain looked down at his fists—silver-black armor still faintly crackling.
"What was that seed he forced to swallow?"
No one answered.
Above, 02 clawed and screeched—covering the sky with desperate sound. Without hesitation Cain bit down into its chest—teeth sinking through blackened scale and muscle. He pulled—ripping flesh away one chunk at a ti. 02's talons dug deeper into Cain's chest—carving bloody furrows—but Cain did not care. He did not flinch. He continued to tear until he reached bone.
The heart lay exposed—pulsing.
Cain bit down.
Once.
The heartbeat stopped.
Screeech!
The final cry rolled outward—long, fading, final.
02 went still.
Cain released the corpse.
It fell—massive, broken—crashing into the alien landscape below in a tremor that shook the ground for miles.
Silence followed.
Cain hovered—chest heaving, blood dripping from torn scales, red eyes slowly returning to normal. Little Purple circled once overhead—violet lightning fading from his form—then landed beside him with a low, rumbling purr.
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