The Legend Of Naga Pt.2

Pasta ran like the wind, faster than he ever had in his life. The roars of war echoed around him, metal clashing, men screaming, cannon fire shaking the sky. His feet pounded the dirt until he reached the cliff's edge.

There, below him… the beach was a massacre.

Blood stained the sand. Bodies littered the shoreline like broken dolls as dozens of ships blanketed the ocean.

Then, a voice yelled out.

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HER!"

Aurelis's voice shattered the air, rippling through the earth. The ground beneath Pasta trembled violently as if the world itself were breaking apart at her fury.

"RUN, NAGA! RUN!" she screamed. "I'LL TAKE CARE OF THEM!"

Pasta's breath hitched.

Naga?

The same girl who had smiled so sweetly only moments ago?

No… she was different now.

Towering high above the beach, her body gleamed like polished obsidian. A venomous tongue flicked from her mouth. Fangs dripped with poison. Naga had become a colossal serpent.

"FIRE!"

Cannons roared from the ships, blasting into her body.

But she didn't flinch. She stood there, taking every hit.

More shots were fired at Aurelis- until the rocks followed her command and shot into the air, hitting the projectiles before they could land.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Aurelis cried out. "Get out of there!"

Naga turned to face her, cold resolve in her glowing eyes. "I guess this experiment was a failure."

Aurelis shifted back into her human form. Her face was pale. Her voice shook. "You changed, so what? That doesn't mean you failed. You never wanted this! You didn't choose this."

Tears streamed down her face, the stars that once sparkled in her eyes now gone.

"You're still Naga. You're no monster. Just say the word, and I'll save you. You know I will."

But Naga looked away. Her voice was soft.

"It's because I'm not a monster… that I won't let you."

Aurelis screamed out, clutching her hair. "Are you a fool?! It doesn't matter! I'll tear this entire army apart, I'll bring the oceans to their knees. Just say it, Naga!"

Pasta appeared on one of the ships.

Tears slipped down his cheeks as he looked around. Near the railings stood a man, bare-chested.

A commander approached. "Looks like we won't be needing you after all. This monstrosity will be dealt with shortly."

The man didn't answer.

"I said—"

"She's not the one you should worry about," the man whispered, his eyes fixed on the blood-soaked horizon. "Someone's coming. Someone strong."

His hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

Pasta followed his gaze, and his heart nearly stopped.

A cry pierced the sky.

Dragons.

A horde of them descended from the crimson heavens, their scales shining like emeralds, sapphires, and molten gold. Their wings cut the wind. Their eyes burned with fury.

Leading them was a massive creature. A beast whose very presence darkened the sun. His wings were like storm clouds while his roar shook the very sea to its core.

"The king of dragons…" the commander fell to his knees, his voice trembling. "A true dragon… Valdorith, the Father of dragons."

The dragons surged into the battle, ripping through ships with fire and claw, turning the sea into a graveyard of ash and splinters.

The man at the railing breathed a quiet chant and unsheathed his blade.

He leapt skyward.

With a single swing, the air split.

A bolt of lightning, more furious than any storm, crashed down. It cleaved the ocean in two and sent hundreds of dragons spiralling to their deaths.

"NAGA!" Valdorith roared, twirling down through the smoke.

His wings beat once causing the incoming lightning to dissipate like mist and causing the ships beneath him to shatter from the sheer force.

The man took command of the air and shot himself towards the dragon, sword raised. Valdorith twisted, shifting back into his human form mid-air. He dodged, just barely.

The man's blade crashed through a ship, reducing it to floating debris in an instant.

Valdorith landed on the wreckage, glaring up at him.

"What are you doing here with the humans, you brute?" he growled.

Smoke coiled around the man's body. His aura surged, causing a violent wind to push the ocean back. His eyes gleamed a fierce azure.

His voice had changed. It was deeper and colder.

"Only a few of us true dragons remain. And yet you are king?" His lips curled into a bitter smile. "Shouldn't that title belong to the strongest?"

Valdorith's fists clenched. "So that's what this is about? This isn't the time, Zorakthor!"

But Zorakthor only laughed.

His energy exploded outward.

Dragons screamed in the distance, their life force crushed by his presence as ships were thrown like paper in a storm.

The battlefield stilled and even the wind dared not move.

"He's… he's a dragon?" the commander whimpered, falling to the deck, eyes wide with horror. "A Falcrest? How?"

Pasta couldn't breathe. He wasn't hurt but the sheer pressure was suffocating. His chest felt like it might cave in. If this were reality, he would've been dead already.

Below, Valdorith's earlier attack had sent entire battalions into the sea, but even that felt small now.

Zorakthor was not here for humans.

He was here for a king.

The fallen dragons roared in vain as heavy iron chains clamped around their bodies. Human soldiers scrambled across the wreckage, securing the mighty beasts like trophies. Their cries were quickly silenced, muffled by gags and the cruel hum of enchanted restraints.

Naga, too, struggled.

Though her serpentine form was resilient, even her hardened scales could not withstand the crushing pressure of Zorakthor's overwhelming energy. Every breath felt heavier. Her limbs ached with resistance.

Above them, Valdorith lunged.

His fist cleaved the air with blazing heat, missing Zorakthor by inches. It wasn't a mistake since Naga was too close. He couldn't risk hurting her. His power had to be restrained.

Flames swirled into a single, concentrated point at his palm, growing more unstable by the second, a miniature sun burning at the edges of control.

Zorakthor glanced over his shoulder, face devoid of expression.

Valdorith gritted his teeth. He couldn't let the fire spread. He had to contain it. Infusing the blaze with his ancient energy, the red inferno turned cobalt-blue.

He screamed as he released it.

The air shattered.

Pasta, watching from the ship. The world flickered as colour vanished in pulses, like reality itself was glitching or perhaps something more in a different space.

On the ground, Aurelis wiped the tears from her cheeks and ran to Naga.

She reached out, shaking her. "We have to go,now. Valdorith can handle him."

Naga hesitated, then nodded. Her heightened senses, sharp since her transformation, tingled with warning. She turned back to the swirling orb of flame.

Something was wrong.

"…Valdorith?"

The fiery sphere vanished in an instant.

Hovering above the battlefield, Zorakthor, face covered in blood now had Valdorith by the throat, his massive hand suspending the dragon king in the air. Blood trickled down from Valdorith's skull, staining his robe crimson.

"God? King?" Zorakthor scoffed. "You're neither. Just a relic of a dying age."

His voice thundered across the battlefield, cold and cruel.

"I am Zorakthor. The future of this world. Born to lead. Born to dominate. My reign will eclipse all that came before. Tell me, Father of Dragons, how does it feel to fail your children? To watch them fall one by one? You will die here. And from your ashes, a new world will rise."

Pasta's heart pounded. His eyes widened with horror and fury.

Without thinking, he snatched the sword from the stunned commander's belt.

"Wh—my sword!" the man gasped.

"Leave him alone!" Pasta and Naga roared in unison.

Naga was faster. She charged, her gaping maw snapping open. Fangs gleamed, dripping with venom. She slammed into Zorakthor, grabbing him with her coils and smashing him against boulders and broken ships. Her poison seeped into his skin with each strike before she tossed him away.

Valdorith collapsed to the ground, breathing hard. His vision blurred.

Naga rushed to his side, wrapping her long body protectively around him.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Why did you come out?" he coughed. "You were supposed to stay hidden.. supposed not to involve yourself in this war."

She chuckled. "Can't a lady go for her leisure stroll?."

Valdorith gave a faint, pained smile. "A stroll, she says… That's so unlike you"

His smile faded. "We have to run. He's too strong."

Naga shook her head. "We won't get far. Not with him chasing us."

His eyes widened. "No… don't—"

Blood burst from his mouth as he staggered to get up.

Naga eased him down beside a rock, and Aurelis rushed in to tend to him.

Without another word, Naga turned and launched herself back toward Zorakthor, ignoring the voice of Aurelis behind her.

Pasta stepped forward to help, but a sudden, searing pain erupted in his skull.

He screamed and fell to his knees, clutching his head. Lightning tore through the skies and thunder bellowed like the wrath of gods as voices echoed in his head. Whispers of a girl, flashes of someone in a cloak.

"NAGA!" Valdorith's cry pierced the chaos.

Pasta's eyes snapped open and what he saw shattered him.

Naga's body stood tall and trembling, blood pouring down her glistening scales.

A blade jutted from her chest.

Pasta frame trembled as he saw glitches around him, the world breaking by the second. A mirage it was, yet every detail felt real, his eyes aw with rage.

"No!"

Pasta charged, screaming with every ounce of his soul. He raised the commander's sword and swung it down at Zorakthor

But he and the blade passed right through.

Pasta's momentum carried him forward, and he slammed headfirst into a rock. The world spun as his vision darkened.

Naga had returned to her human form. Blood seeped from the wound in her chest, staining her pale skin crimson.

Valdorith struggled to stand, but his body no longer obeyed. Each movement sent waves of agony through him. His arms trembled, legs numb beneath the weight of pain and failure.

Aurelis let out a soundless scream, her fury boiling over. Her form shimmered, then burst into a radiant transformation. The sky itself seemed to cower as her body morphed into a towering, majestic wolf cloaked in divine light. Her fur shimmered silver under the blood-red sky, and with a roar that cracked the heavens, the storm responded.

Clouds twisted and writhed. The once-crimson sky turned into a vortex of lightning and thunder. The sea rebelled—waves rose like mountains, swallowing the scattered ships in their wake.

Aurelis turned her blazing eyes on Zorakthor.

"Protector and goddess of the elves," he murmured, unfazed. "You have no business here."

"She was my friend," Aurelis growled, her voice layered with divinity and sorrow. "And for that, you die today."

The ground heaved in response to her fury. Pillars of stone erupted around Zorakthor and shot toward him like missiles. He dodged effortlessly, but that was only the beginning.

From the sky, lightning and fire rained like divine judgment, tearing through ships and shaking the earth. Chaos reigned. But Zorakthor stood amidst it all, unscathed.

With a roar, he leapt toward her, slamming both feet into the ground. The impact created a field of massive boulders, which he hurled at her with monstrous strength.

Then he swung his blade.

Lightning curled around the debris, chasing it like a serpent as it hurtled toward Aurelis.

But she was faster.

With a command, the earth obeyed, rising to form a thick stone wall before her. It absorbed the shock, the lightning dancing harmlessly across its surface. The boulders stopped midair, reversed course, and smashed into the remaining battleships, sending them to watery graves.

Still, it wasn't enough.

Zorakthor burst through the stone barrier like it was paper. His speed was impossible to track. Before Aurelis could react, his blade pierced her chest.

Her breath caught.

"…Naga… forgive me," she whispered, her voice soft as wind.

Her glowing eyes dimmed, and her body slumped.

"No!!" Valdorith roared. With the last ounce of his strength, he transformed, his massive wings erupting once more. He caught Aurelis in his arms before the sword could plunge deeper.

Blood poured from his wounds. His wings trembled. But he took to the skies, escaping with her limp form.

Zorakthor raised a single finger.

A spark appeared on its tip before it fired into a bolt of lightning, tearing through Valdorith's wings, over and over again. He faltered midair, roaring in pain but he did not fall.

With gritted teeth and burning wings, he vanished into the horizon.

Zorakthor groaned and turned.

Though her body was still, Naga's energy had not faded. Her soul hadn't shattered. Not yet.

He turned his gaze to the last of the his ships, raising his voice with a twisted grandeur.

"Children of the former king," he called. "Your leader awaits you. Adore him. Worship him. He is the true one among the false. He is strength. He is eternity. He awaits you… so wait, patiently for him. Now what you see is nothing but a vessel to contain only a fragment of his power. As from today the age of Valdorith is dead and now begins the dawn of Zorakthor, the new king!"

A new voice cut through the air.

"I see… the body of the fallen," a man said quietly, his voice gentle.

He appeared, draped in white robes. His face was hidden beneath a deep hood and behind him, a golden spiral shimmered in the air like a rift in time.

Pasta, still slumped beside a boulder, gasped. He could see it. The spiral. The man.

But no one else seemed to notice such a figure was present except Zorakthor.

Zorakthor turned to him and nodded.

Then, without a sound, his body collapsed. Lifeless. The vessel… had served its role.

The robed man stepped forward, hands clasped in solemn reverence. He approached Naga's body and whispered a soft prayer.

"Rid the world of evil."

Pasta blood boiled. Evil?

"You bastard!" Pasta shouted, surging to his feet. He grabbed his sword and rushed the man.

With a single flick of his hand, the man halted him, slamming Pasta back against the rock.

"You can… see me," Pasta gasped. "Isn't this just a memory?"

The man said nothing. He raised his finger, and Naga's body began to rise into the air, levitating her.

"No! Come back! Bring her back!" Pasta yelled, stumbling forward, tears streaming down his face.

But the man didn't look back.

He carried her toward one of the few remaining ships. Pasta reached out, but the world suddenly distorted.

His vision blurred.

The ship was gone.

The sea was gone.

The battlefield was gone.

Only dunes remained.

An endless, golden desert stretched in every direction.

Pasta fell to his knees. His breath trembled. He clenched his fists against the sand.

"…What was that?" he whispered. "Did Naga really…?"

He shook his head, trying to fight the truth—but he had seen it. He knew.

She was taken.

Not just her body, but her soul. Smelted. Altered.

Used like some tool for power.

He let out a shuddering breath, rage rising like a tide.

"…Those bastards…"

"It's hot," Valdorith murmured, his body sprawled across the burning sands. Blood traced patterns beneath him, fading fast under the relentless sun.

Beside him, Aurelis trembled, barely able to keep upright. "I'll take my spiritual form… and join her soon."

Valdorith turned his head, his weary gaze meeting hers. "I knew you'd say that."

She was the only reason he ever found himself in company with the goddess. Their fates had always been intertwined causing this very moment inevitable.

Aurelis braced herself, struggling to stand. "Before I go… I want to give you a gift."

Valdorith chuckled weakly. "You've never given me anything before. Why start now?"

"Then let this be the first," she said, her voice soft, distant. "Naga is gone. She won't return. But you… you'll live. For how long, I don't know. If you survive this, promise me one thing. Don't seek revenge."

Valdorith laughed, but it broke into a rough cough. "You? Asking me not to seek revenge? That's rich."

Aurelis smiled faintly. It was brittle, hollow. "I know. I surprise myself too," she said, tilting her head back to gaze at the burning sun. "Who knew a little girl could change someone like me."

"You seem… happy," he said quietly.

"Of course I am. I'll see her again soon." She looked at him from the corner of her eye, a ghost of a grin tugging at her lips. "Bet you wish you were me now."

The words pierced him. Valdorith tried to smile, but his eyes betrayed him as a single tear slipped down his scaly cheek. He lowered his head, and so did she.

Then Aurelis stepped forward.

With a howl that shook the horizon, she cried out to the blazing sun. The earth answered.

The air twisted and the sky churned.

Winds roared, howling through the dunes. The searing heat fell away, replaced by a sudden, calming chill. Sand turned to snow and the desert was gone.

In its place stood a vast, snowy land.

And from its heart, something magnificent began to rise, carved from frost and memory.

The Tomb of Valdorith, the Dragon King- a towering monument to legend, slowly took form. One to be known as the Demir Of Grandeur for all generations to come.

Pasta stood still, eyes wide. The scene before him thrummed with ancient energy, but the air was heavy, not with awe, but sorrow.

It wasn't just a tomb.

It was her farewell.

Aurelis had shaped this resting place with her final breath, not only for Valdorith… but for herself. And for Naga.

Three entrances emerged from the ice and stone.

One crafted in peace, to honour her people. A tranquil path, serene and beautiful. A path Naga would have adored.

Another, scarred and burning, reflected her hatred. Her fury toward humankind.

And the last… the last was neither. It was the path of regret. Of choices. Of unanswered questions.

A path that asked, if time had shifted, could this have been avoided?

But even she knew that every choice bore its own weight. Its own consequences.

Each path, no matter how winding, led to the centre.

To the Dragon King.

A being who would endure, for all eternity, carrying the memories of the fallen.

As the storm faded, Aurelis' form dissolved into light, her soul finally became at peace.

Time twisted and quickened.

Pasta stood beside Valdorith once more, yet the world sped around him. Seasons passed in blinks. Eras turned like pages in a book.

Adventurers came and went. Most kept their distance, frightened by the tomb's immense energy. A few came to seek wisdom from the ancient dragon. Others—cowards well.... mocked him, then fled in fear.

A cloaked figure stayed long enough to read him books and others as well who came to study such books.

But some stood out.

A short figure, wearing a familiar wide-brimmed hat—just like Mr. Swordsman's. He placed a bowl of sake at Valdorith's feet and spoke words Pasta couldn't hear.

Time moved faster.

A giant of a man approached next. Shirtless, body carved with battle scars, eyes solemn. He didn't speak. He simply knelt, laid a bundle of wildflowers at the dragon's feet, and nodded once before walking away.

Then… the final visitor.

A man with a blue mask.

His presence was calm and powerful. He walked with grace, silence his companion. When he reached Valdorith, he removed the mask.

His face was kind, young, and filled with empathy.

He placed a hand on the dragon's head. No words, no gestures. Just a moment of quiet. A farewell only the soul could understand.

And then, Pasta returned.

Back to the present.

But something within him had changed.

He had seen the end.

#

"Naga..."

Valdorith whispered.

"Send me to her."

Pasta stood frozen, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Was this really the same Valdorith? The mighty dragon king?

"Send me to her, Pasta," Valdorith said again, his voice soft and resigned. "I can see it in your eyes. You've seen it all, haven't you? You understand why… I must go."

"But… But!" Pasta's voice cracked, hoarse with grief. The anger, the sorrow, he couldn't hold it back anymore. "It wasn't your fault, Valdorith! It was that damned dragon!"

Valdorith's form shimmered, his towering presence fading into that of an old man, tired and worn. His long hair, once vibrant with a celestial glow, had turned completely white. He reached out, resting a gentle hand on Pasta's head.

"As you saw my memories," he said, voice now steady with warmth, "I saw yours as well."

Pasta broke, pressing his head against the old man's chest. "It wasn't your fault..." he sobbed.

Valdorith held him quietly, nodding. "It wasn't yours either. You did all you could, Pasta. You were only a child."

"No!" Pasta trembled. "This isn't about me! You don't have to die! There has to be another way!"

A fragile smile tugged at Valdorith's lips. "Even now… I can't muster a real smile." He sighed. "I've lived for so long… I've forgotten what it means to feel anything but tired."

He lifted Pasta's chin, locking eyes with him.

"You still dream, don't you? Of becoming a warrior? Then listen well. Uncover the truths buried in this world. Join the destroyer. Venture beyond the edge of this reality and prepare the way… for the one who is to come."

"The one to come?"

Valdorith nodded slowly. "Yes… I've seen it in my dreams. Happiness is coming, Pasta. It's faint, but it's real. So don't cry. Not now. Happiness will come."

Then, Valdorith raised Pasta's trembling hand and placed it over his own sword hilt.

The blade pulsed with energy. It responded to their touch, it responded to her and Pasta felt every bit of it.

Naga was crying.

His fingers curled tighter around the hilt. His breath grew ragged as the blade trembled in his hold.

Valdorith smiled gently, spreading his arms wide. "There's only one thing in this world that can end me…" He gave a weak chuckle. "The very thing she always joked about."

Pasta's whole body screamed against it. His muscles were stiff as his heart shattered with every inch he moved his blade.

With a cry that tore from his soul, Pasta drove the sword forward. The blade sank deep into Valdorith's chest, through skin that had once been stronger than any steel, now soft with age and surrender.

The poison flowed through him, but it was not cruel. It was soft. Gentle. Like the wings of butterflies brushing against the soul.

Valdorith exhaled one final breath. His eyes fluttered closed.

A faint smile lingered.

"Thank you..."

And with that,

the Dragon King was no more.

#

Valdorith opened his eyes. He was young again, his body restored, his strength renewed. Yet all around him stretched endless darkness.

This was his punishment.

For letting her die.

For arriving too late.

To remain trapped in the void for all eternity.

But then…

A sound.

Soft. Echoing through the silence like a memory. Footsteps, light, and familiar caused his heavy heart to tremble.

From the void, a small figure appeared, running toward him. The long, dark hair flowing behind her, the energy in her steps.

He knew her. He could never forget her.

The child who had once adored his hair more than anything. The one who called him silly names and claimed he looked better when he smiled.

A breath caught in his throat.

His lips curled into a fragile smile, and he broke into a run, arms open wide.

She leapt into his embrace, giggling.

"Naga…" he whispered.

"Yes?" she beamed, pinching his nose just like she used to. "Let's go home! I've got a great idea for a potion hehe."

Tears spilt freely down his cheeks as he clutched her close, burying his face in her soft hair. The crushing cold of the void shattered was gone in an instant. In its place bloomed warmth.

He laughed, the sound raw and unrestrained, breaking the silence that had caged him for so long.

"Let's go home."

And with Naga in his arms,

Valdorith walked into the light.

Together.