"If they want to keep us here, they'll have to die first!" The Silver Dragon roared, its draconic breath surging forward, blasting away a Balrog wielding a flaming battle axe.
"Aargh!" A pained dragon cry echoed as a crimson wound tore open across its scales, molten dragon blood spilling into the raging currents of the River Running.
"Damn it!" Ospaya swung the Ten Thousand Dragons Hymn, unleashing a whip of fire that lashed through the battlefield.
His frustration burned—no matter how powerful a warrior, against colossal beasts like these, a mere human felt insignificant.
"Breaking Army!" The golden Ten Thousand Dragons Hymn shone brilliantly, compressing into a spear of pure energy before being thrust forward with overwhelming force.
"ROAR!" A Balrog let out an earth-shaking scream as the spear struck true, exploding on impact. Half its shoulder and an entire arm were torn away in a burst of flames and flesh.
"DIE! You damn lizard! You worthless filth!" The wounded Balrog's eyes burned red with fury, hurling its flaming whip with reckless abandon.
Crack! A crisp sound rang out as fine fractures crawled across Ospaya's dragon shield—it was about to shatter!
"Damn it!" Before he could react, his once-solid shield shattered completely under the relentless strikes of the Balrogs.
Whoosh—! A sharp whistling of wind cut through the air. Through the swirling debris of his broken shield, Ospaya saw, to his horror, a crimson blur lunging straight for him.
"It's over!" Fear seized him. Without his shield, there was no way to reposition his long dragon spear in time to deflect the deadly strike.
"RAAARGH!" A heart-wrenching dragon cry broke his stupor. His mount—the noble Silver Dragon—had raised its wing to block the blow. As a result… its wing bone was snapped in two.
"You bastards! You'll pay for this!" Ospaya roared in rage as his dragon tumbled from the sky, rendered flightless and now trapped on the battlefield.
"Ospaya! Leave immediately! I'll get you out of here! We can't both die here! Take my reverse scale… take it to Dragon Island… avenge me!"
The Silver Dragon's voice was tense, its gaze locked on the encroaching Balrogs. With a deep snarl, it tore a silver dragon scale from its own chest—one that grew in reverse, protecting its heart.
A dragon's reverse scale—once given, meant an oath of life or death.
"No! I won't! My brother!" Tears streamed down Ospaya's face as he struggled against the powerful dragon force pushing him away.
"We can't win this… Go! Don't throw your life away!" The Silver Dragon, now unable to fly or phase through space, looked at Ospaya in sorrow. It was no longer the mighty space-faring draconic spirit—it was now just another creature doomed to fall against overwhelming numbers.
"A knight does not abandon his comrades! A man does not forsake his allies!" Ospaya bellowed, smashing a flaming battle axe apart with Ten Thousand Dragons Hymn. The Balrog wielding it stepped back in shock, wary of the sacred weapon. But soon, another battle axe formed in its hands, blazing with infernal fury.
"ROAR!" The Silver Dragon swept down, shaking its head before unleashing a cone of draconic breath, forcing back at least three Balrogs.
"Now! Right now! Leave!" it commanded.
"For the honor we once lost!"
"For the mercy we once carried among men!"
"For the righteous knights who came before us!"
"For humanity, whom we fought so loyally for!"
"For the love and purity in our hearts!"
"For the shields we raised to defend Middle-earth!"
"For the courage to face the abyss of darkness!"
"For burying our nobility beneath our humility!"
"I shall die with honor for mankind!"
Honor. Mercy. Justice. Loyalty. Love. Protection. Courage. Humility. Sacrifice.
Nine radiant halos of light surrounded Ospaya, resonating with his soul. It was breathtaking. It was heartbreaking. It was the sacred Sacrificial Halo—the final gift of every true knight. The reason knights could defy fate and battle beyond their limits.
"You… you're insane!" The Silver Dragon trembled, sensing an overwhelming force rising from Ospaya's very being—this was beyond the peak of a Sixth-tier warrior.
"Tell me… what lies beyond the Sixth Tier?" His voice, hoarse and ragged, was like a whisper from the abyss yet carried the holiness of the heavens.
"Holy Sword—Judgment!" Ospaya reached into the void with his left hand, manifesting a silver phantom sword. Blood tears streamed down his face as he sneered. Then, he slammed it down.
Boom!
The sky split open! A thousand-meter-long silver holy sword descended, crashing into the battlefield with divine wrath.
A Balrog screamed in agony as the blinding silver light consumed it.
When the radiance faded, the creature was gone. Only a deep crater, a hundred meters wide, remained, and at its center—a floating, ember-red Balrog heart, the only proof it had ever existed.
"So… you can die after all…" Ospaya coughed up dark red blood, wiping his mouth absentmindedly.
"Ospaya… you…" The Silver Dragon's massive eyes welled with tears. The moment the Sacrificial Halo had risen, it marked the peak of a knight's life—and also the end of it.
"Why…?" Its voice trembled, for their bond allowed it to understand what Ospaya was thinking.
"I'm sorry… This was never your fight… Dragging you into this… I'm sorry… As for the reverse scale… Keep it yourself…
Go back to Dragon Island… Take care of yourself… You've already done enough for me…" Ospaya slumped over his dragon saddle, coughing up more blood.
"Three more…" His fading vision locked onto the three burning figures emerging from the settling smoke.
"Go, Asterel! Return to Dragon Island! Leave the humans! Leave Middle-earth! Never return… This is not your battlefield!" With immense difficulty, Ospaya slid off the saddle, turning to his dragon companion of a hundred years with a final, heart-wrenching command.
The Silver Dragon Asterel bowed its head in silent respect. This battlefield now belonged to him. This was his honor. This was his war. This was his home.
"Thank you…" Ospaya whispered, gripping Ten Thousand Dragons Hymn as he limped towards the Balrogs. His time was running out.
"Roarr!" A primal, inhuman roar tore from his throat.
"This blow… is for the sins of the gods!" His aura erupted, spear raised high.
"Dragon Rider's Sky Burial!" The strongest technique of the Dragon Knights was unleashed.
A colossal silver dragon, formed entirely of battle energy, dove at the Balrogs with devastating force.
The ensuing shockwave obliterated everything within hundreds of miles—ancient trees, rolling hills, entire landscapes reduced to dust.
The land itself became a barren plain, scarred by divine destruction.
"A mortal… rivaling the gods…" Asterel's dragon eyes shrank into slits. He could feel it—within Ospaya, a divine spark had been born.
"No… No…!" Asterel wailed in despair. He had sensed it—the nascent godhood within Ospaya.
"Sorry, old frie—" Ospaya never finished his words. His body dissolved into light, vanishing into the wind.
A mournful, endless dragon cry echoed across the North that day.
.
.
.
Guys, do leave some power stones and reviews.
🤞patreon.com/MythosWriter🤞
If you guys enjoy this story, you can support me on Patreon and get access to Advance Chapters, it really helps me to work on new chapters.