Chapter 66: A Departing Scold!

The sun had barely crested over the horizon, casting long golden shafts through the dust still hanging in the air. El'dan City stood battered but alive. The streets, once buzzing with fear, now murmured with subdued awe. The people spoke in hushed reverence—not just of the Archmage or the Scarlet Raven—but of the Black Dragon who had held the line when death itself knocked.

Now, the time to leave had come.

This time, no one stood in their way.

The once-formidable El'dan gate—where tension had brimmed just a day ago—was now flung wide open. No guards barred their path. No suspicious eyes tracked their steps. Only respect remained. And silence.

Captain Demos—Sir Demos, as he was more commonly known in the southern territories—stood at the city's entrance, helmet under one arm, eyes fixed on the rider seated atop a dark horse with eyes that shimmered like ink. Josh Aratat, the man behind the legend, gazed back in silence with a new black mask on his face.

Demos bent deeply at the waist in a formal bow, wincing slightly as his back resisted the strain. "Sir Black Dragon," he began, his voice loud enough for the nearby guards and citizens to hear, "I offer my sincerest apologies for our earlier conduct. We... we did not know your identity. We couldn't just allow any Tom, Dick, or harry to just come and go as they please, we wanted to—"

Josh raised a gloved hand, cutting him off with a measured gesture. His voice was calm but carried the weight of someone who had seen too much to care for excuses.

"That shouldn't matter, Captain." His tone was razor-sharp, slicing through the morning stillness. "It is a person's right to enter a city and exit it as he sees fit— they shouldn't be treated like a criminal with suspicion and hostility— except for valid security reasons. Not personal bias. Not suspicion without cause."

He leaned slightly forward in his saddle, the steel plates of his armor glinting in the sunlight. "You can't detain someone just because your gut says so. What happened at your gate… almost cost this city everything."

Demos looked away, shame written in the creases of his face.

"If I had left as I intended," Josh continued, his voice dropping, "the Scarlet Raven would've followed my trail, yes. But El'dan city gate? Your people? They wouldn't have faced and seen those devastating scenes. Even though only a few died as an aftermath of the intense battle— No one should have died at all! Blood wouldn't stain your streets."

Captain Demos bowed lower. "I apologize, Sir Black Dragon. I truly do."

Josh didn't stop there. "And the citizens who died tonight… What's your account to their families? To the mothers who will never see their sons again? To the homes turned to ash?"

"I apologize, Sir Black Dragon," Demos repeated, his voice now hoarse.

Josh's voice, while still level, carried a deeper note of frustration. "Your men lack discipline. Manners. Common sense. They don't listen. They provoke."

"I... I apologize, Sir Black Dragon," Demos echoed again like a man confessing before a divine tribunal.

The air hung thick with awkward silence. A few guards shuffled where they stood, pretending to adjust their armor or clean dust from their boots. Even the horses sensed the tension, snorting softly.

Josh exhaled. Slowly. Then leaned back. "Very well."

He turned his gaze to the open road ahead. "Do better."

With that, he nudged his horse forward. The gates of El'dan were behind him now.

Demos remained bowed even after the dust began to settle behind Josh's slow departure. His pride was bruised, his spine aching, but he had made up his mind. Someone would pay for this humiliation.

Straightening with effort, he glanced sideways and barked, "Tunip. Gallawy. Step forward."

Two soldiers emerged from the cluster near the gate, their faces drained of color.

"You two owe me fifty pushups," Demos growled. "Now. And after that, you'll mop the inner corridor with your tongues if that's what it takes to make up for this shame."

Gallawy blinked. "Sir, we—"

"Not. Another. Word."

Captain Demos stood at the city gates, his eyes fixed on the trail of dust left by the departing riders. His jaw tightened, the weight of guilt etched into every line of his face. "The Black Dragon walked through fire to protect this city," he said, almost to himself, though the gathered guards could hear him clearly. "And we met him with spears and suspicion. Let that shame stay with you—remember it before you dare draw your next breath."

His voice, quiet but heavy, fell over the guards like a judgment.

But even the weight of those words couldn't smother the rising tide of excitement behind them. The streets of El'dan City buzzed like a disturbed hive. Common folk flooded the plazas, voices raised with awe and wonder as they recounted the surreal events of the night. Laughter mingled with gasps; fear turned to fascination. Children clung to their mothers' cloaks, their eyes wide, hanging on every word of the older ones recounting the battle.

In the dim glow of the city's rekindled lanterns, scribes hunched over parchment with furious hands, trying to immortalize every moment before memory faded.

"A Scarlet Raven and a Black Dragon," one murmured aloud as he wrote. "Not fable, not legend—real. And here, in El'dan City of all places…"

"And don't forget the eagle," said another, glancing up briefly. "The Archmage of old, Amber Nois—risen like something from a lost age."

"Aye," added a bystander, eyes still wide. "She took to the skies with that demon like it were nothing. Like the old tales… come to life again."

It was a night that would echo through generations—a night when reality bent at the edges and something greater than themselves stepped into the world. Parents would tell it around fires, children would act it out in alleyways with makeshift staffs and masks, and the name "Black Dragon" would no longer be spoken with suspicion—but with reverence.

Demos said nothing more. He only turned his eyes once again to the horizon, where the dust settled and the sky slowly lightened with the approach of dawn.

And so, as the sun finally crowned the hilltops and El'dan began to stir from its nightmare, its gate stood open—not just in wood and steel, but in understanding. A lesson had been carved into its walls.

And a legend had passed through.