Chapter 84: Dying Love

Rudolf Azregon

For three long hours, I had waited, my senses attuned to the slightest sign. The Yellow Cross Hotel, situated a considerable distance of one thousand and fifty-three kilometers away, was a key location among the possible safe houses linked to Dragunov. The intelligence at hand painted it as a potential haven for the elusive princess, a lead that held the promise of a breakthrough.

My team comprised Cleru Neos and his loyal dragonoid, Jasmine, along with my wife Kyrie and an additional member, Gaz. Gaz, a former Arcadian, maintained connections with the dragonoid fanatics, affording him the ability to infiltrate and navigate the Arcadian camp. His role would be to provide invaluable insights from within, while Kyrie and I maintained vigilant watch, positioned with sniper rifle and binoculars.

Once lauded for my skill as a sniper during my academy days, my confidence had waned, haunted by a past incident where my actions nearly cost my best friend his life. Lingering hesitance gnawed at me, casting a shadow over my current task.

Meanwhile, Cleru and Jasmine prepared for a coordinated assault from the skies. Their Rainbow Dragon, invisible to the naked eye due to its mastery over light and color, soared above the scene, ready to strike.

"PK to Gaz. What's your status?" My hushed voice carried through the radio, but an eerie silence greeted me. Repeating my inquiry multiple times yielded no response – a perplexing absence considering Gaz's earpiece.

"Perhaps he forgot to activate it," Kyrie offered, her smile tinged with reassurance. As she peered through her binoculars, she directed my attention to a cluster of Humvees to our right. Her sharp eyes discerned the unmistakable figure of Dragunov, a presence that marked a significant development.

With Kyrie's guidance, my gaze shifted to the location she indicated, and there he was – Dragunov, his distinctive snow-white hair and beard setting him apart. At his side stood Nox, the enigmatic figure with rainbow-hued eyes. As they exited the Humvee, an unsettling shiver ran down my spine, a vague unease settling over me. Did Nox detect our presence with some form of supernatural sight? My skepticism held ground, and he turned away without further acknowledgement.

Minutes trickled by as Dragunov and his companions made their way into the hotel's fifth floor. Curtains obscured some windows, frustrating my surveillance efforts. Fortuitously, Dragunov ventured onto the balcony, his phone in hand as he engaged in conversation. And then, his voice resonated through our communicators.

"I know you're listening through this channel, Cleru," his words sent a chill through the air, his tone dripping with calculated intention. "You failed to uphold your end of the bargain, which is why I've taken the princess. Necross has no direct interest in her, but she serves as a catalyst for the ritual – a means to spark war and orchestrate the requisite death toll. Now you're here, disrupting our plans, even involving your Empire companions in the endeavor to rescue your childhood friend."

A jolt of realization struck – Dragunov's voice was broadcasting through our communicators. Panic intermingled with urgency, but it wasn't until the curtains parted that the full horror of the situation unfolded before me. In one window, Princess Elkyria was secured in a metallic wheelchair, her mouth gagged with duct tape, her body festooned with C4 bombs. On the adjacent window, Gaz suffered the same cruel fate, tightly bound like the princess, connected to explosive devices. Nox wielded a searingly hot spoon, pressing it against Gaz's right eye, the young dragonoid's anguished screams reaching our ears.

"We've been compromised! Go loud!" Cleru's command shattered the silence, and urgency surged through our ranks.

With determination fueling my every action, my sniper rifle unleashed its first shot, targeting Nox's tormenting arm with uncanny precision. The resounding crack echoed through the air as his arm was violently severed, and Nox collapsed in agony. My sights then shifted to Dragunov, but he was quicker than I'd anticipated. He vanished from view, concealing himself behind walls that now obstructed my line of sight. Forced to recalibrate my focus, I turned my attention to other threats – Arcadians who unleashed indiscriminate gunfire in the midst of the chaos.

Amid the turmoil, a dramatic air dive heralded the arrival of the Rainbow Dragon. Its impact rent a portion of the building asunder, scattering debris – cement, wood, and steel – in a frenetic whirlwind of destruction. The scene devolved into a chaotic maelstrom.

"Action time, Kyrie!" I exclaimed, surging to my feet and brushing dust from my armor. Clutching my chest, I roared, "Activating Vesryn Pulse!"

The aged walls of the building quaked and groaned as my Chaos Dragon form assumed its formidable bulk. I marveled at my dragon's increased size, exercising restraint – for a husband should always be cautious when broaching topics like diet and exercise with his wife. The building's walls erupted in a series of explosions as my Chaos Dragon form emerged. Together, Kyrie and I surged forward with a velocity that broke the sound barrier, our goal clear: to provide crucial backup to Cleru and effect the rescue of the captive princess and Gaz.

Yet, a chilling realization soon dawned upon me – we were being pursued relentlessly, stalked by the ominous specter of the Black Phantom and his Ice Dragon. The Ice Dragon amassed its chilling power, its jaws aglow with a formidable ice ball that materialized into a frosty projectile before my reflexes could even muster a warning.

Amidst a blinding burst of white smoke, catastrophe struck – Kyrie's left wing succumbed to frostbite, causing her to lose balance and plummet to the earth. The forceful impact sent us crashing onto a bustling highway teeming with people and vehicles. Her fragile wing shattered like brittle glass, eliciting a heart-wrenching cry from my beloved.

"Fool!" I bellowed, rage surging through me, quelling any shred of hesitation. Chaos energy enveloped my flesh-arm while I readied my mechanical counterpart, resolve etched into every fiber of my being. Drawing a deep breath, I marshaled my strength, preparing to unleash the Voice of the Emperor.

But my intentions were abruptly thwarted as a commanding voice pierced the air, shattering my efforts. "DRACARYX!!! Activate Time Freeze!" The zombie-like Black Phantom's proclamation heralded a paralyzing halt, leaving me sprawled on the ground, my shield plate depleted. An ice dagger pierced my heart, crimson blood spilling forth and staining my cheeks, my consciousness teetering on the precipice.

Though my vision blurred and my heartbeat faded, I could still discern my valiant wife's unwavering determination. Kyrie stood resolute before the approaching Black Phantom, who charged forth with his golden rapier, loosing a flurry of deadly thrusts. Unyielding, Kyrie braved the onslaught, her body bearing the painful toll of every strike. With an exertion of her dwindling strength, she hurled dark orbs toward her adversary, but the zombie expertly sidestepped the assault.

Fatigue claimed Kyrie, her strength waning as she collapsed near me. Summoning her last reserves of energy, she crawled towards me, determination etched on her face. Yet, the Black Phantom pursued, his ominous figure closing in, his rapier poised to deliver a lethal blow and bring our confrontation to a fatal conclusion.

Top of Form

In the throes of impending doom, Kyrie's feeble voice broke through the haze. "R-Rudolf…Honey…" Her words were a testament to her undying love, even as darkness encroached.

But amidst the chaos and the bleak certainty of death, a glimmer of hope emerged. Time stretched to a languid crawl, granting me the tiniest window of agency. My mechanical fingers twitched with an effort that bordered on sheer willpower, defying the paralysis that gripped my body. Inch by agonizing inch, I drew the ice dagger from my heart, each movement an excruciating battle against the pain that surged through me.

Determination eclipsed the torment as I seized control of the situation. With the dagger finally liberated, my target became clear – the looming figure of the Black Phantom, a threat to both Kyrie and myself. Ignoring my own fading existence, I hurled the dagger toward his outstretched left hand, the very hand clutching the sinister black heart.

The dagger found its mark, piercing the heart with unerring precision. In an instant, the Black Phantom's form stiffened, the heart's malignant power undone. As if in a macabre symphony, his flesh began to corrode and crumble, his body reduced to dust that the wind claimed, scattering his essence to oblivion.

My consciousness waned, but my final act stood as a testament – no force, no matter how relentless, could assail the bond Kyrie and I shared.

[Rudolf Azregon – K.I.A.]