043 Dying knowledge

A bruised Colwyn fell to one knee. He had underestimated the vulture, despite it having one foot in the grave, the behemoth was still with out a doubt a true horror. Conjuring a heavy shield of mana, the drake knight made sure it was large enough to completely cover him from the mana beast.

The ground beneath the knight's feet trembled, and the corrupted trees surrounding the grove began to creak and groan as if reacting to the beast's magic. A sudden rush of wind tore through the area, carrying with it the stench of decay and something far more ancient—an oppressive, otherworldly chant that would no doubt lead to another fierce spell.

Colwyn couldn't last like this, but at the same time if he stopped putting his whole focus on playing defence the drake knight would end up dead in seconds. There was realistically only one option for Colwyn but he was held back from using it.

His final hidden card could defeat the vulture, but the drake knight didn't want to use it in Rios domain. Though it should be impossible for the templar to watch him from all the way out in the mountains, he still felt hesitant.

Letting out a low grumble, Colwyn dismissed his shield and took the brunt of the malevolent gale tearing at him. The vulture was still chanting, but Colwyn wasn't confident in surviving it's next attack, he had to kill it now.

The drake knight summoned a sword and smiled under his helmet, "I, Colwyn, bind the natural. Regalia: -"

"Halt," Interrupted a gravely, profane voice "I did not realise thee were tethered to the world,"

Colwyn froze mid chant, the sword flickering slightly in response to his wavering focus. The vulture had stopped as well mid chant, it's eyes now staring at Colwyn with a strange sense of familiarity. The drake knight was silent for a moment, digesting the situation.

It wasn't a surprise that such a powerful creature could communicate in the human language, after all strength and intelligence were often tied together. What confused the drake knight was why the behemoth wanted to talk with Colwyn, just earlier he was sure that it was going to kill him.

"Tell me, champion of the world." Continued the vulture in a dry whisper, "Do you seek glory? Riches? Absolute power?"

The drake knight exhaled sharply, forcing his stance to remain firm despite the biting wind and the deep ache in his battered limbs. He couldn't let himself be shaken.

"I seek none of those things," Colwyn said, his voice steady despite the storm of doubt inside him. "I fight because I must."

The vulture let out a low, rasping sound—something between a chuckle and a death rattle. The corrupted trees swayed in response, their skeletal branches creaking in protest.

"A dutiful warrior, bound by cause," the behemoth mused. "Yet I see it in thee… the weight of chains unseen. Tell me, drake knight—whom dost thou fear?"

Colwyn's heart pounded. The question cut deeper than the vulture's talons ever could. He didn't answer.

"I beseech you, noble champion, you must travel to the southern pole," Wheezed the vulture, "All of mans desires can be found there, and only a champion can have the strength to claim it."

"The southern pole?" Colwyn repeated, his voice cautious. "What lies there that you would send me to claim it?"

The vulture's beak twisted into something resembling a smile, though it was a grotesque imitation of human expression. The beast extended one massive, decaying wing, and the air around it shimmered. An image formed along its lustrous black feathers, Colwyn felt himself lean in to get a better view.

he vulture's feathers seemed to ripple like a dark mirror, revealing a sight that was both breath-taking and unnerving. A city lay sprawled in the distance, its architecture unlike anything the drake knight had ever seen. Towering spires of obsidian and gold pierced the sky, their dark glory putting the enclave's own capital to shame.

The city was surrounded by cascading waterfalls, their waters a luminous blue, as if infused with some ancient magic. The falls roared endlessly, their mist rising like a veil around the city, giving it an ethereal, otherworldly appearance.

But what truly stole Colwyn's attention was the colossal skeleton that lay at the city's heart. The remains of a dragon, impossibly vast, curled around the central spire like a guardian even in death. Its bones were bleached white, each one the size of a fortress, and its skull alone could have housed an army.

"The ancient city of Draken Loch," Mused the vulture, "A trial awaits you, noble champion, but thee will find themself readily awarded."

"A trial, you say?" Colwyn said, his voice low and measured. "And what happens if I fail this trial? Will I end up like you—rotting away, feeding on the scraps of others' ambitions?"

The vulture's eyes glinted, its beak twisting into that unnatural smile once more. "Failure is always a possibility, champion. But is that not the nature of greatness? To risk all for the chance to rise above?"

Colwyn's lips curled into a grim smile beneath his helmet. "You talk too much."

In one swift motion, he lunged forward, his sword blazing with mana. The vulture let out a shrill cry, its massive wings flaring as it tried to retreat, but Colwyn was faster. His blade arced through the air, cutting through the beast's decaying feathers and striking true. The vulture's body shuddered, a guttural screech tearing from its throat as dark ichor spilled from the wound.

The vulture's eyes widened, its gaze locking with Colwyn's. For a moment, the drake knight felt a strange connection, as if the beast were peering into his very soul. Then, with a final, rasping breath, the vulture's body disintegrated into ash and shadow, its presence vanishing like smoke in the wind. All that remained was a pure white marble, it's mana core.

The grove fell silent, the oppressive atmosphere lifting as the vulture's magic dissipated. Colwyn stood amidst the remnants of the battle, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. The ache in his limbs was sharp, and the bruises from the brief scuffle would no doubt linger, but he had survived.

With a deep breath, Colwyn turned away from the grove, his resolve hardening. "Fine," he said aloud, as if making a promise to the empty air. "I'll go to your cursed city. But not for glory or riches. I'll go to see what you were so desperate to hide."