Thea tightened her grip on Ryle's waist as they soared above the jagged cliffs, the wind whipping through their hair. Beneath them, the northern cliffs stretched endlessly, their rocky faces jagged and unwelcoming.
Ahead lay the cursed lake Damien had mentioned—its waters black as ink, rippling with an unnatural stillness. Beyond it, shrouded in mist, stood the ruins of what was once Astoria Mansion.
At first glance, it was nothing but a crumbling structure, its stone walls strangled by thick vines, its towers reduced to rubble. The illusion magic was so subtle that even Ryle, with his heightened senses, had to focus to see through it.
"It's here," Ryle muttered, adjusting his flight.
Thea squinted. "It's too quiet."
Ryle nodded. "Expect company."
As if on cue—
A blur of figures emerged from the trees.
They moved without a sound, clad in dark crimson cloaks embroidered with an insignia—a broken crown dripping with blood.
One stepped forward. A man with silver hair and sharp, piercing eyes. His voice was calm but carried weight.
"We are the Last Remains of Astoria. We won't allow you to desecrate this land."
Ryle hovered midair, arms crossed. "If you cared about Astoria, you should've stopped Emily before she turned your name into a curse."
The silver-haired man narrowed his eyes. "Our purpose is clear: to protect this place until the very end. We will not stand aside."
Thea cracked her knuckles, stepping forward.
"I've barely used my Dragon Claw since I got it…" She smirked. "Ryle, let me handle this."
Ryle glanced at her. Her hands pulsed with power—purple, but with a pinkish hue. Different from his own, yet unmistakably draconic.
"Don't hold back," he said simply.
She smiled. "I wasn't planning to."
The battle erupted like a lightning strike.
Thea vanished in an instant, her speed inhuman. The first enemy barely had time to blink before—
CRACK!
Thea's fist slammed into his chest, sending him crashing through a tree.
Another warrior swung at her, but she caught his blade with her bare hands, the steel shattering against her grip.
Spinning on her heel, she launched herself into the air, flipping over two swordsmen and landing behind them. Before they could react—
SLASH!
Her dragon-enhanced claws tore through them, leaving deep, fatal gashes.
More came at her, but Thea was unstoppable.
One opponent lunged with a spear—she sidestepped effortlessly, grabbing the shaft and using it to throw him into another soldier.
Another attempted to stab her from behind. She ducked, sweeping his legs, then drove her heel into his skull.
The final few hesitated.
Too late.
Thea's eyes gleamed. Her hands blurred.
Four enemies. Four slashes.
Each body fell—cut cleanly into four pieces.
Silence.
The only sound was the rustling of leaves as the Last Remains of Astoria lay dead.
Thea wiped blood from her cheek. "That's it?"
Then—a slow, mocking clap.
Emily Astoria emerged from the mansion.
She stepped over the corpses without a care, her blood-red gown dragging against the ground.
"Well done, Thea. That was the last of the Astoria lineage. You killed them."
Thea's breath caught for a moment.
Ryle's golden eyes burned with fury.
"No." His voice was ice. "You sacrificed them."
Emily tilted her head, smirking. "It doesn't matter."
She lifted a delicate hand. Noctis Vitae floated beside her, its pages flipping rapidly.
The blood-red ink on the pages glowed eerily.
"616 souls collected."
Her smile widened.
"Only 50 remain."
Ryle exhaled sharply. His muscles tensed, his dragon blood boiling.
"You can't bring back someone who died honorably," he said coldly.
Emily's smirk didn't fade. "Oh? Let's see you stop me then."
Ryle's body ignited with power.
His wings burst forth, black as midnight.
His eyes glowed a piercing yellow.
His claws, bathed in draconic energy, radiated pure destruction.
This was his Battle Form.
Emily tilted her head slightly, unfazed.
With a flick of her wrist—blood rose from the corpses, twisting into whips.
They lashed out at Ryle, striking with unnatural precision.
He dodged easily, vanishing into the air, but—
The blood followed.
It snaked after him, shifting midair, predicting his every move.
Emily laughed. "Blood remembers, Ryle. You can't escape it."
Ryle clicked his tongue. She was right.
The moment the blood touched him, it would lock onto his pulse, his warmth—his very existence.
Instead of dodging, he charged straight at her.
Emily's smile faltered. "Tch—"
Ryle's **claw slashed—**but at the last second, the blood bent unnaturally, forming a barrier.
His attack didn't reach her.
Emily grinned viciously.
She lifted her hand—the blood surrounding Ryle hardened, trapping him in midair.
Ryle struggled, but the more he moved, the tighter it became.
Emily whispered, voice dripping with malice.
"Now, let's see if dragon blood can be drained like the rest."
She clenched her fist—
The blood constricted.
Pain exploded through Ryle's body.