Chapter 13 :The Chains That Bind, The Power That Breaks
From the dim light, the figure stepped forward, revealing his face—messy brown hair, hollow, sunken eyes that carried the weight of a thousand regrets.
In one hand, he held a long sword, its edge worn yet well-maintained. In the other, a half-empty bottle of wine, swaying slightly with each step.
He took a slow swig, the liquid spilling slightly past his lips, yet his eyes never left Tenebris.
Each step echoed through the desolate underground, a deliberate and unhurried advance.
Then, in a voice hoarse yet steady, he muttered,
"Take that back."
Tenebris stood still for a moment, the limp body of the soldier still dangling in his grasp. Then, without a word, he released his hold, letting the man's body drop to the cold stone floor with a dull thud.
Slowly, he turned his head, the black mist shrouding his face shifting like a living shadow. His unreadable gaze fell upon the approaching figure, evaluating, measuring.
The heavy scent of alcohol mixed with blood filled the air as the man took another swig from his bottle, his sword dragging slightly against the ground. The tension between them thickened, an invisible weight pressing down on the space.
A silent understanding passed between them. This wasn't just another soldier. This man was different.
"If you want me to, then force me to," Tenebris said, his tone utterly indifferent. He stood there, relaxed, his posture almost lazy—completely unbothered. No tension. No fear. Just cold, unshaken confidence.
The underground tunnel was bathed in a dim, eerie red glow, casting long shadows against the damp stone walls.
"I see," the man muttered, his voice carrying a weight of understanding. Without hesitation, he tossed the empty bottle aside.
The instant the glass shattered against the ground, he vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he reappeared behind Tenebris, his sword flashing toward him with deadly precision.
Yet, Tenebris remained unfazed. Slowly, he turned his head to the right—the exact direction of the incoming attack—his unreadable gaze already locked onto his opponent. The blade had yet to reach him, but it didn't matter.
He had already seen through it.
As the man swung his sword, a sudden, overwhelming sensation gripped him—an instinctive warning that screamed at him to stop.
His eyes widened.
Without a second thought, he aborted his strike and leaped backward, his heart pounding. A cold sweat ran down his spine as he processed what had just happened.
For the briefest moment, just before his blade could reach its target, he had felt it—an unfathomable presence, a killing intent so absolute it threatened to sever his very existence.
Had he followed through with the attack...
His head would be rolling on the ground right now.
'What... was that?' he thought, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword.
"Oh? You sensed that?" Tenebris tilted his head, a hint of amusement in his voice. He calmly unbuttoned his sleeves, rolling them up as if preparing for something far more mundane than battle. His golden eyes gleamed under the dim red lights.
"Will you try again?" His tone was indifferent, almost lazy. "I can't guarantee your life if you do."
The man smirked, but a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. The pressure radiating from Tenebris was suffocating. Still, he straightened his posture, gripping his sword tightly.
"My name is Darius Veldane," he declared. "Grand General of Velka's army. For breaking the law, invading the castle, and committing treason—" He raised his sword, his stance firm despite the invisible weight pressing down on him.
"I'm going to serve you justice."
Tenebris didn't react.
Darius gritted his teeth and dashed forward again, fully aware of the risk—but hesitation meant death. His sword gleamed under the dim light as he swung it straight at Tenebris' torso.
A sharp clang echoed through the underground chamber.
Tenebris hadn't dodged. He hadn't even moved. Instead, his arm had shifted—dark, gleaming dragonic scales covered his forearm, stopping the blade in its tracks.
'What the…'
Darius barely had time to process what he was seeing before—
Boom!
A fist slammed into his stomach with monstrous force. His vision blurred as his body was launched backward like a cannonball, smashing straight into the wall.
The stone cracked. Then shattered.
Dust and debris filled the air as the wall crumbled around him.
Meanwhile, Noah moved through the rows of rusted iron bars, his steps quick but heavy. His eyes scanned each cell, searching, hoping—dreading.
The dim torchlight flickered, casting long shadows over the skeletal figures inside. Hollow eyes stared back at him. Some too weak to move, others too broken to care. The stench of rot, of suffering, clung to the air like an unshakable curse.
His fists clenched. His heart ached with every step, with every life he passed by.
Noah descended the cold, metal steps, each footfall echoing in the dimly lit corridor. Even the stairs were reinforced with hard steel, an unsettling thought creeping into his mind—whatever was hidden this deep underground wasn't meant to be found. The lights along the walls pulsed faintly with mana, casting a sterile glow over the suffocating space.
At the bottom, five cells lined the narrow passage, their iron bars thick, unyielding. Noah's gaze swept over them as he stepped forward.
The first cell. A girl with long pink hair sat against the wall, knees pulled to her chest. Unlike the others he had seen, she wasn't yet reduced to skin and bones—she must have been brought here recently. Her vacant eyes flicked toward him but held no light of hope.
The second cell. An old woman, well past her sixties. She had no arms. Heavy chains bound her frail legs, rusted metal biting into her pale, bruised skin. Despite her condition, she sat upright, her hollow gaze locking onto Noah as he passed. There was something unnerving about her silence.
The third cell. A boy, no older than ten, his yellow hair tangled and unkempt. His clothes—once noble attire—were now nothing more than tattered rags barely clinging to his malnourished frame. His sunken eyes didn't follow Noah. He simply sat there, staring at the ground, as if he had already accepted his fate.
Noah clenched his fists, the sight fueling the rage already burning in his chest.
The fourth cell. A woman, possibly his age—perhaps a little older. Pale. White-haired. A thick, rusted collar was locked around her throat, heavy chains bolted to the wall restraining her wrists. The weight of her suffering was almost tangible in the cold, stagnant air.
Noah's steps slowed. His fingers twitched. But he kept moving forward. He hadn't found him yet.
The last cell.
Noah's steps halted as his gaze landed on him.
Chains stretched taut in every direction, binding his wrists and ankles to the cold, unyielding walls. Heavy cuffs bit into his skin, restraining him like a beast too dangerous to be left unshackled. His brown hair was unkempt, falling messily over his face, but it couldn't hide the piercing black eyes that glared at Noah with something beyond hatred—something raw, something deadly.
There was no desperation in those eyes. No plea for help.
Only the quiet, suffocating promise of destruction.
***
Just before Noah climbed onto Tenebris's back, Silviana stopped him.
Without a word, she pulled something from her pocket and placed it in his palm. Cold metal met his skin—a small emblem, shaped like a crest with dragon wings carved into its sides. Even in the dim light, it pulsed faintly with power.
Noah's breath hitched. He knew this.
A relic. A legendary item.
[Draconic Wing Emblem]—a treasure that allowed a human to borrow 10% of a dragon's power for a short time. In-game, this was one of the most sought-after items, an artifact so absurdly expensive that Noah had never even come close to affording it.
He stared at it, then at Silviana. She only smirked.
"Try not to die," she said, turning away.
Noah clutched the emblem tightly, feeling the weight of what it meant.
***
As the past faded from his mind, Noah focused back on the present. His gaze locked onto Zyrex, the chains pulling his limbs in different directions, his black eyes burning with something unreadable.
Noah took a step forward.
He raised his hand, channeling mana into the emblem Silviana had given him. The moment his energy flowed into it, the emblem dissolved into golden light, sinking into his skin.
A surge of power rushed through his veins. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his body growing lighter, stronger. The air itself seemed to hum around him.
Then—his vision shifted.
His usual blue eyes burned gold. Draconic eyes.
Noah exhaled. He reached for the iron bars, gripping them tightly. The cold metal groaned under his fingers.
With a single motion, he bent them apart, twisting the reinforced steel like it was mere clay, creating an opening into the cell.
Noah stepped through the opening, golden eyes glowing in the dim light. He looked down at Zyrex, chained and broken, yet still staring at him with defiance.
Cracking his knuckles, Noah smirked.
"Time to change your fate."
To be continued -