Act 4: Fallen Heaven - Chapter 732: Marcus's Cry, The Dragon's Roar

Act 4: Fallen Heaven - Chapter 732: Marcus's Cry, The Dragon's Roar

Marcus believed he had endured the worst of blows, most enemies unable to match the brute strength of his Lord's power, and took great pride in his half-dragon blood that granted him durability in scales and great violence in his claws and teeth. However, the sudden strike that shattered pieces of his scales off his shoulder proved his pride to be mistaken, the belief in his invincibility broken. It came faster than an arrow and rattled his brain in his skull upon contact, sending him flying and crashing onto the wall. At least his scales prevented the impact from crushing his back. Still, it spread a dull pain throughout his bones. Groaning, he snapped his eyes open, glared a draconic gleam in slitted pupils, and tumbled off the broken wall, landing on his knees.

He grinned a toothy smile, the dragon's blood pumping hot in his veins. He could feel the beast in him roaring in anger at the sordid state he had ended up in, but also an immense excitement for the battle ahead. Ever since training in the Brilliant Drake Empire, he felt a clearer connection to the dragon within, their emotions and goals syncing well. The Dragnars relied on a spiritual connection to the lingering intents of dragons emanating in the land, bearing a slight bit of their strength. Perhaps that was why the New Dawn had been attracted to that place. Indeed, he, too, was excited and stood firmly, sending a ravenous glare at the tall figure garbed in a black cloak, who held a great spear out, extending it fully to the side. The Ancestral Mark beamed an annoying light on the man's forehead.

"I like it. Cel Standavish, you're an incredible foe." Marcus wiped the blood off his shoulder and regrew a clean set of scales, unblemished and reflecting the light on his black sheen. When he had heard of the powers of this Divine Enforcer, his draconic instincts told him that they might meet. Tying back his blonde hair, Marcus inhaled and let out a tremendous roar, the world rippling and distorting as the violent cry quaked his surroundings. He stomped and stretched his wings back in a direct flight toward Cel, swinging his enlarged claw.

He heard a loud, clear succession of snaps as if a hammer struck a clean anvil sharply and rapidly. Cel thrust his spear, which was currently lacking the head and most of its shaft, simply a small stick of metal in his grip. Out of it, the rest of the spear extended out in a blur, faster than Marcus wished he could see. His grin turned into a grimace as he realized his strength was not on par against Cel's overwhelming spear. The claws on his hand cracked and broke apart, and he pulled back as it pierced his palm, the quick reaction saving the rest of his arm from being skewered.

'It broke through my scales so easily. My Lord, how did you match this man?' Marcus retreated several steps, but Cel chased, stabbing dozens of piercing blows in a second, the spearhead snapping in and out. The only evidence of its attacks existed in the fine, clean holes in the ground, the result of pure concentration of speed and power that only destroyed what lay in its path. Marcus rolled and sent out a flurry of his scales that Cel destroyed in an instant, his spear flowing like water in graceful technique, merely glancing past each scale in delicate motions.

'Speed, power, and technique. Since his body is also made of metal, I can't rule out a high durability. Good. Good.' As he assessed Cel's strength, his frown returned into a wide smile. The Lord had told him long ago not to lose himself and lead the others, so he elected to be the calm leader, though Santen usually was the calmest. Right now, as Cel's spear descended and shaved off more scales, and sharp platinum threads sliced the air in attempts to cut him, spun by the cubes floating and surrounding him, he saw his own blood dyeing the floor red and felt the urge, the hunger that drove his early days, to consume and devour until nothing else remained.

"Since our intel noted you as his right-hand man, I assumed you to be stronger. I'm disappointed. Even with dragon's blood in your veins, you are lacking." Cel grunted behind his mask.

Marcus flew up and spun, slashing his wings on several cubes. After freeing himself from the prison of threads, he made it back to the corner where Eve waited for him.

"Marcus!" Eve, covered in bandages, shouted in worry. Her blue eyes darted to his injuries.

Cel followed and stopped a short distance away, jabbing his spear on the ground and pointing it straight up as if waiting for them to make a move. Marcus couldn't help but praise the man's honor, never targeting Eve once during the fight. While he considered running away, he decided he would not let this powerful enemy run amok and ruin his Lord's plan. Looking up, he wondered if Auren had made it to the top and began to create the formation. Surely, the others would protect the young Seventh.

"How? How did you...." Marcus looked at the man who stood up, his height towering over everyone he knew. The New Dawn had no means of controlling her outbursts, yet this man had done it on a whim, a simple jab of a finger.

"What is your decision?" The man asked.

Marcus glanced at Eve, still awestruck by the calm sleeping figure in his arms. He gulped and made his decision, bowing his head. "I will serve you forever. Please don't take away what you have done. Let her rest."

"I'm above making threats for potential allies. But...betray me, and I will kill you and her. I am Draven." The man turned around and walked away. Marcus struggled on his feet but followed Draven, his new Lord, outside.

.......

Marcus flew in, laying a blazing trail behind him. He brandished his claws, flames swirling on the sharp edges, and roared a mighty cry, breathing out dense, red fire. Cel thrust his piercing spear forward, amplified by the power of the chain reactions of the Integration. The fire breath parted and diverged in two paths, severed by Cel's power, but Marcus's claw clanged a sharp ring against the spearhead. He gritted his teeth and found his footing, finally matching Cel's strength. Marcus swiped another claw and flung Cel away.

'As expected, his body is also pure metal.' Marcus held his trembling claw, seeing the faint cracks on the tips.

"I suppose you are worthy of your station. I admire it." Cel tore off his ragged cloak full of holes and tears. A thin armor covered his chest, while his arms and shoulders had no cover, exposing the lean crevices of his well-formed muscles. He cracked his neck and pointed his spear at Marcus, beckoning him forward, and Marcus complied, roaring in full flight.

'Hurry up, Auren!'