Strax moved calmly, his firm footsteps echoing in the corridor as he headed toward the garden. The surroundings were peaceful, but he could feel the growing pressure of the mont. Diana had given him the mission to scout Barak's convoy, and although it seed simple in his mind, there was more at stake. The tension in her words still hung in the air. And then there was the issue of Kryssia, though he disliked getting involved in personal matters, sothing in his chest wouldn't allow him to remain indifferent.
As he passed through one of the hallways, he was interrupted by Xenovia, who stood there, visibly nervous. She watched him with a grave expression, and Strax knew what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.
"If you find Kryssia..." Xenovia began, her voice trembling and eyes pleading. "Please, save her."
Strax stopped, his eyes locking onto her for a mont. He knew how much Kryssia ant to Xenovia, but he also knew the weight of his choices. He looked at Xenovia with a calmness that masked the seriousness of the mont.
"Since when do I kill a friend?" Strax responded with a calm smile, almost disinterested. "She let us escape. We owe her a blood debt."
Xenovia seed relieved, but there was still a shadow of concern in her eyes. She knew Strax didn't make empty promises, but she also knew he was too pragmatic to get emotionally involved in a mission. He was a man of action, not words. Still, she couldn't stop feeling a thread of hope.
"I hope so," Xenovia said quietly, her fingers nervously clenching into fists. "Because if anyone can bring her back, it's you."
Strax only nodded, not because he was promising anything, but because he understood the weight of her words. He knew that if he found Kryssia, he would do what was necessary. But the decision wasn't in his hands. Her fate was already in the Empire's grasp, and what remained for Strax was to ensure he could complete the mission without fail.
With one last glance at Xenovia, Strax turned and continued his path. He felt the tension in the air, the mission weighing heavily on his shoulders. The garden was just ahead, and there, he could prepare as needed. He took a deep breath, feeling the cool breeze brush against his face, and passed through a side door that led to the outside.
As his feet touched the grass of the garden, Strax began to concentrate, preparing his mind for what was to co. The gentle wind moved the leaves of the trees around him, and for a mont, he closed his eyes, absorbing the atmosphere, feeling the touch of nature surrounding him. The tranquility of the scene contrasted with the growing tension building inside him. It was ti to act, and he knew the mission would require his full skill and focus.
Then, in one fluid motion, he leaped into the air with impressive agility. His body expanded suddenly, as if his form unfolded in a nearly supernatural way. In an instant, he was no longer the agile, calculating man, but a colossal, imposing, and subli beast. His muscles turned into ruby-red scales, and his wings spread out, enormous, cutting through the air with primal force.
The transformation was swift and majestic — a dragon, his serpentine body now covering the skies of Vorah, generating a powerful turbulence that made even the trees shudder with the intensity of the wind. His divine dragon form reflected the magnitude of his power, a being who had transcended human limitations to beco a mythical creature.
"I'll be back soon," Strax's voice echoed through the house, deep and filled with authority. Even in his colossal form, the strength in his words was unshakable, conveying confidence and a sense of inevitability. The sound reverberated like distant thunder, the weight of his words spreading across the vastness of the place.
With a low, powerful roar, he rose higher, his eyes now scanning the horizon. Like a colossal shadow, he covered the sky, moving with a precision and grace that only a being like him could achieve. His wings cut through the clouds, and the wind, now at high speed, spread across the land below, carrying with it the promise of uncontrollable power.
Then, without hesitation, Strax flew toward the horizon, a streak of fire and destruction in the sky. The speed with which he moved made it seem as though the wind itself feared him.
Strax sliced through the sky with the ease of a predator, his wings beating with precision, each movent calculated. As he ascended higher, the land below beca a distant blur, and the clouds began to spread around him, enveloping his presence. He didn't want to be detected yet; he preferred to remain hidden in the heights, where his enemies could not see him.
The wind up there was cold and biting, but Strax was beyond it. In his draconic form, he floated above the clouds in a deep silence, his eyes carefully observing everything around him. The world seed small from up there, the land below covered by a thick layer of clouds. But as he neared the western edge, sothing began to disturb his senses. A pressure, a feeling of sothing large approaching.
He paused for a mont in the air, feeling the vibrations in the environnt. A shiver ran down his spine. Auras. Many auras. Almost like a weight surrounding him, a dense layer of presences, and not just a few. There were so many that the sky seed to pulse with their energy. Strax tightened his muscles, feeling his mind being overwheld by the powerful presences that were gathering in a single point. Never before had he felt sothing like this — such a large concentration of such powerful forces in one place.
He furrowed his brow. Sothing was wrong. He had never felt such a massive army, so close. The strength of each aura was so great that it almost felt like a block to his own perception. How could so many soldiers gather so quickly? He didn't know what was happening, but sothing was forming there, sothing he didn't fully understand yet. It was more than just an army. It was a force advancing, relentless.
With a swift motion, Strax transford back, his body shrinking and returning to his human form in the blink of an eye, without making a single sound. He hovered in the air, no longer with the grandeur of a dragon but still maintaining his calm and sharp vigilance. His vision was now clearer, more focused. He hovered above the army that was marching toward the Duchy. The sight before him was impressive, almost suffocating.
A sea of soldiers covered the land below, their armor gleaming as the sun reflected off their sharp blades. Thousands of warriors marched, arranged in imposing ranks. Each step made the ground tremble, and the sound of boots hitting the earth seed to echo across the vastness. Strax watched in silence, his expression impassive, his eyes analyzing every movent with precision.
The army seed endless. There was no end in sight. He saw banners fluttering with unfamiliar symbols and the variety of units that were being mobilized. So with magic in their hands, others with enchanted weapons pulsing with malignant energy. The number of powerful presences there was alarming. Moreover, the way they were organized… it was clear these were no ordinary soldiers. There was sothing ticulously calculated, a force that seed to have been trained and positioned for this mont.
Strax didn't move, hovering in the air above the army like an invisible specter, his eyes sharp, searching for signs of leadership, any indication of a superior force commanding this mass. Barak… He knew the general was there, but he couldn't find a specific command point. Perhaps he was hidden, or perhaps Strax was simply being overshadowed by the enormous concentration of power.
His mind worked quickly, trying to calculate the best strategy to infiltrate without being detected, but the feeling that the battle had already begun pressed on him. This wasn't just an attack. It was a calculated march, an offensive with the clear objective of taking the Duchy.
Strax closed his eyes for a mont, and then, with quiet concentration, he expanded his aura. It spread like an invisible field, touching everything around him, sweeping through every corner of the enemy army, every soldier, every presence marching below him. His search was clear: to find Kryssia, any sign of her.
And then, he felt her.
It was as if a part of his being had been pulled. A familiar aura, but distorted, wrapped in pain and suffering. Strax paused in the air, his senses sharpening, trying to pinpoint the focus of this presence that called to him. He followed it, his eyes already opening to the sight stretching below.
Among the ranks of soldiers, he saw sothing standing out. A carriage, simple in appearance, but with sothing disturbing about it. Pulled by the troops, the carriage was surrounded by a curtain of black energy, which seed to emit a cold and heavy vibration. At the back, a cage, the prison of soone — soone Strax recognized. His mind already knew, but his heart tightened as he saw it.
Inside the cage, was Kryssia.
But she was no longer the sa. Strax felt a knot in his throat as he saw her. Kryssia's body was devastated, mutilated in a cruel and inhuman way. Her hair, usually so elegant and vibrant, was tangled and stained with dried blood. Her skin was pale, almost cadaverous. She was missing one of her arms, the other hanging uselessly at her side. One of her legs had been torn off, the stump brutally severed in a way that could only have been done with deep hatred. And one of her eyes… was completely destroyed, the socket empty and marked by a pain that transcended any physical limit.
Strax didn't need to see more. What his eyes had already registered was enough to ignite an imnse rage within him. Kryssia, his friend, his ally… she was being treated like a trophy, a victim of torture who couldn't even react. The sight of her anti-magic chains, heavy and relentless, was the final touch. They prevented any possibility of healing or regeneration, limiting Kryssia's resistance to re traces of life.
The impotence of that scene hurt Strax more than any blade ever could. He couldn't fully comprehend the cruelty of those who dared to do this to her. Every part of his soul scread for vengeance, for justice. In that mont, he heard a low voice within himself, sothing visceral, sothing primal and pure, saying only one word:
"Kill them all."
It was an internal command, not spoken in words, but as a primal instinct. There were no doubts, no hesitation. The pain he felt, the rage, the frustration… all condensed into this one desire. The world around him seed to disappear as his mind focused solely on that scene — Kryssia, tortured and humiliated, being dragged toward an even crueller fate.
The carriage continued to be dragged, the soldiers marching, unaware of the storm approaching. Strax felt Kryssia's aura, felt her pain, and the need for vengeance intensified with every passing second. He was no longer the observer; he was the executor.
With a swift movent, Strax drew closer, silently floating above the enemy army. He no longer needed his draconic form. His essence, his will, were already there. The power he felt within him was enough to destroy everything around him.
The decision was made. It didn't matter how many enemies were there. It didn't matter how many soldiers marched with their dark intentions. He would destroy them. Each one. Without rcy.
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