Night Crow

"This sensation…" Drakon murmured, a low thrum resonating in his voice.

BlackFang's voice was barely a whisper. "The Sunfire Drake is awakening…"

"This serpent… its power is immense to trigger such a primal response," Drakon said, his voice tight with a mixture of awe and apprehension. He could feel the surge of heat coursing through his veins, a potent energy building within him, demanding release. The sigil on his left wrist pulsed, the ancient runes struggling to contain the Sunfire Drake's power, a desperate attempt to keep the immense energy from erupting. If unleashed, even Drakon might be unable to control the Sunfire Slayer.

"This sensation…" Drakon murmured, a low thrum resonating in his voice, a primal tremor that echoed the rising power within him.

BlackFang's voice was barely a whisper, tinged with awe and apprehension. "The Sunfire Drake is awakening…"

"This serpent… its power is immense to trigger such a primal response," Drakon said, his voice tight with a mixture of awe and apprehension. He could feel the surge of heat coursing through his veins, a potent energy building within him, demanding release. A searing heat radiated from his left wrist, where the Draconic Seal pulsed with an inner light, the ancient runes struggling to contain the Sunfire Drake's power, a desperate attempt to keep the immense energy from erupting. The air around him shimmered with heat. If this energy were allowed to ignite freely, even Drakon doubted his ability to control the Sunfire Slayer. The consequences were unthinkable.

"What we need to know, we already know. The Bound Demon King's orders are paramount. We must return to the Armored Ones immediately." The voice, though seemingly directed at the serpent, was a subtle application of Auditory Sorcery—a technique favored by those who dwell in shadows, silently observing the dance of danger. The words hung in the air, a chilling reminder of the unseen forces at play, the weight of unspoken consequences pressing down on the scene.

A low rumble, like the grinding of tectonic plates, vibrated through the air, a tremor that seemed to emanate from the very earth itself. The floodwaters themselves seemed to pulse with a dark energy, mirroring the unease that settled over Drakon and BlackFang.

With surprising speed, the colossal serpent plunged into the floodwaters, its serpentine army following in its wake, vanishing beneath the churning surface with unnerving grace. There was no final confrontation, no desperate struggle. The serpent's retreat was a calculated decision, a strategic withdrawal, leaving Drakon and BlackFang to ponder the implications of this unexpected turn of events. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken questions and the chilling certainty of unseen dangers lurking just beneath the surface.

BlackFang's voice was sharp, laced with frustration. "Why the retreat? What's the plan? That serpent practically handed himself to us, and you let him go?" He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. *There had to be more to this than a simple tactical retreat.*

Drakon, ever the pragmatist, kept his tone even. "We're playing the long game, BlackFang. We're dangerously close to Armored Ones territory. A hasty pursuit risks a devastating ambush. We need to be strategic, not reckless."

BlackFang remained unconvinced, his gaze fixed on the churning floodwaters where the serpent had vanished. "Shouldn't we at least try to pursue Iron Serpent?"

Drakon shook his head, a grim set to his jaw. "This war's just begun. Retreating now is the wisest course of action. We regroup, reassess, and plan our next move. Chasing him now would be foolish." *He knew BlackFang was right to be frustrated, but a reckless pursuit would only play into the serpent's hands.*

BlackFang, still simmering, conceded the point, but a new thought sparked in his mind. "Fine. But before we regroup, we need to check on Thai Binh Hamlet. The flash flood could have caused significant damage. We have a responsibility to help those in need."

"Rest assured, BlackFang," Drakon said, his voice calm but firm. "I believe the villagers were prepared for the heavy rains; this isn't their first flood. The senior members of the community are experienced in handling such emergencies." He paused, studying BlackFang's still-unsettled expression. *He knew BlackFang's concern wasn't solely about the villagers; it was about the missed opportunity to capture the Iron Serpent.*

"Let's return to Celestial Monastery first; we can assess the situation from there."

A wave of relief washed over BlackFang. "If the villagers are prepared, then I have no worries. Cinderfang, let's head back!" he shouted, his voice filled with a newfound lightness. *He still felt the sting of letting the Iron Serpent escape, but the immediate concern for the villagers had eased his frustration.

***********

The landscape was a desolate wasteland, ravaged by some unseen cataclysm. Not a soul in sight. Parched earth cracked underfoot, tenacious blades of grass clinging desperately to the skeletal remains of ancient roots. The air hung heavy and suffocating, a furnace breath that baked the skin. At intervals, a strange, acrid odor—metallic and faintly sweet—wafted on the scorching wind, its source unknown.

A low moan escaped Drakon's lips. "Whoa… Whoa…"

Finally, his voice, rough with exhaustion, broke the oppressive silence. "We've arrived… at last."

The barren ground bore witness to their arduous journey. A deep, wide track, etched into the rock, snaked across the desolate expanse, a jagged scar upon the earth. Thousands of smaller, fainter trails, like the frantic scrawls of desperate creatures, crisscrossed the main path, a silent testament to the chaos that had swept through this forsaken place.

No stranger to this desolate landscape, the Iron Serpent, accompanied by its serpentine army, slithered forward, its massive form a slow, deliberate movement across the ravaged earth. The journey across the floodwaters was clearly evident; the serpent's passage left a trail of destruction in its wake.

A low hiss escaped the Iron Serpent's gaping maw. "Whoa… Whoa… A most… *pleasant* familiar scent. The sweet perfume of decay, emanating from countless rotting corpses." It inhaled deeply, savoring the stench.

In the distance, under the pale moonlight, what appeared to be scattered boulders resolved themselves into a horrifying truth: a vast, mountainous accumulation of bleached white skeletons, a macabre monument to a forgotten tragedy.

Human remains, scattered amongst the skeletal remains of other creatures, served as a gruesome feast for the circling Night Shadow Crows. The scene was a horrifying tableau of death and decay, a testament to the brutality of the Armored Ones. These were the unfortunate victims, their lives extinguished by the merciless savagery of the tribe.

The Iron Serpent's voice, a low, guttural hiss, cut through the silence. "Welcome… to the charnel ground… the den of the Armored Ones." Each word dripped with chilling satisfaction.

"Here," it continued, its voice echoing across the desolate landscape, "strength and power are the only measures of justice. A world ruled by brutality, where death reigns supreme."

"Life," the Iron Serpent hissed, its forked tongue flicking out, "is a distant dream for those who dare disobey or oppose."

From the shadows, a figure emerged, silhouetted against the pale moonlight. Perched atop a massive scorpion, its segmented tail raised high, sat Killer, the Scorpio God. In his massive hand, he wielded a colossal chain, its links slowly swaying, menacingly aimed at the Iron Serpent.

"That verbose title of yours… hardly matches your accomplishments," a bitter voice rasped, cutting through the night. It was Night Shadow Crow, perched on a nearby rock, his tone dripping with disdain.

Killer bristled at the insult. "Why the harsh words, Night Shadow Crow? We're comrades, serving the Bound Demon King!"

The Iron Serpent, sensing the rising tension, interjected smoothly. "Indeed. Let's not forget our shared allegiance, Night Shadow Crow. Let's keep this civil."

Night Shadow Crow's voice, sharp and chilling, cut through the night. "I am a loyal servant of the Armored Ones, not some sentimental fool who would betray the Bound Demon King. Killer, you would do well to consider the consequences of your actions."

His words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the deadly game they were all playing. Night Shadow Crow, a master of stealth and deception, had appeared alongside the Iron Serpent during the confrontation with Drakon. Yet, his true location remained a mystery, even to his own teammates. A fitting reputation for a shadowy assassin, a leader known only for his deadly efficiency and his ability to vanish into the night. He was, after all, the Night Shadow Crow.

"Rescue…"

"Demon… Devil…"

Terror-filled screams, laced with agony, echoed across the desolate landscape. Each ragged breath, a desperate gasp for life, was a prelude to the inevitable silence of death.

Night Shadow Crow's voice, sharp as shattered glass, cut through the air. "Why is there still a survivor? Killer, your negligence is unacceptable!"

The Iron Serpent, sensing Killer's confusion and fear, quickly interjected. "Night Shadow Crow, it's understandable to miss one. Allow me to finish this… *mortal* for you." The Iron Serpent's voice, though smooth, held a note of forced calm. Killer, his earlier arrogance replaced by stark terror, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the merciless Night Shadow Crow.