Chapter 12:Ouch

Without warning—

RIP!

A sharp, searing pain shot through Zalario's back. His entire body stiffened as he felt something violently torn away from him. A sensation so foreign, so unexpected, that his mind momentarily blanked.

A gust of wind brushed past him, scattering golden feathers across the ground.

It took him a second to process—his wings were gone.

A voice, dripping with amusement, spoke from behind him.

"Huh. Didn't think they'd come off that easily. You sure you're not just wearing a costume?"

Zalario turned sharply, eyes burning with anger.

Velnova stood there, casually holding a few golden feathers between his fingers. His expression unreadable, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips was enough to send a wave of irritation through Zalario.

"You might wanna get those checked. Seems like your 'holy presence' isn't as durable as you'd like to think," Velnova continued, tossing the feathers aside.

Zalario took a step forward, but before he could make a move—

Velnova vanished.

The only thing left was the faint sound of his mocking laughter drifting in the air.

Zalario stood frozen, golden blood staining his back, his fists clenched tightly.

Without warning—

BAM!

A powerful strike landed on Dagruel's back, sending a shockwave through his massive body. The impact was enough to make the towering giant stumble forward, his knees nearly giving out under the sheer force.

Velnova stood behind him, his expression unreadable. "For someone called the 'Earthquake,' you sure seem easy to shake."

Dagruel clenched his fists, feeling an intense pressure weigh down on him. He was strong—one of the most powerful beings alive—yet in that moment, it felt as if his own strength was being tested in ways he had never experienced before.

As he attempted to turn, ready to retaliate—

Velnova vanished.

Not a trace remained.

Dagruel steadied himself, taking deep breaths as he processed what had just happened. It wasn't just power—it was control, precision, and unpredictability.

Imperial Humiliation

The throne room of the Eastern Empire was a masterpiece of wealth and power. Golden banners, intricate carvings, and a sense of absolute authority filled the air. At the center sat Emperor Rudra, his expression calm but calculating as he observed the day's proceedings. Beside him, Velgrynd, the Flame Dragon, radiated an intense aura, her presence alone enough to intimidate the strongest warriors.

Then, space itself twisted—and in the blink of an eye, Velnova appeared.

The sudden intrusion sent shockwaves through the chamber. The guards froze, their instincts screaming at them to react, but before they could even reach for their weapons, the real attack had already begun.

Without a word, Velnova moved.

A single step forward, faster than the eye could follow. His foot lashed out with monstrous force, striking Rudra's lower abdomen.

CRACK.

The impact wasn't just strong—it was devastating. A ripple of force spread outward, making the very air tremble. Rudra's body jerked violently, his breath catching in his throat as he was launched backward, crashing onto his own throne. A pained grunt escaped his lips as he hunched forward, hands clutching his crouch.

A ruler who had commanded the empire for millennia was now completely winded—in a single hit.

The silence was deafening.

But Velgrynd was not one to stand idly by. Flames erupted around her, a golden inferno of divine energy. Her eyes, now filled with fury, locked onto Velnova. "You dare attack my Emperor?" she growled, her voice like a rising storm.

Her body vanished in an instant, flames trailing behind her as she lunged forward, her claws igniting with destructive energy.

Yet, Velnova had already reacted.

Without turning, his hand moved—a mere flick of his wrist. But what followed was absolute precision.

A sharp, invisible force lashed out—faster than Velgrynd could process.

SLASH.

A thin, clean wound appeared across Velgrynd's chest, stopping her mid-charge. The sheer speed of the attack made her body jolt back as she stumbled, her breath caught in her throat.

For a moment, she stood frozen, her mind processing what had just happened. Then, slowly, her hand reached up to touch the wound—not deep, but precise. It had cut through her defenses as if they were nothing.

Her golden eyes widened.

"Fast, aren't I?" Velnova mused, a smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe next time, don't rely on just your flames."

Velgrynd's hands clenched into fists, her flames growing more intense—but before she could make another move…

Velnova disappeared.

The moment was over in an instant, yet the damage had been done.

Rudra, still hunched forward, his expression twisted in pain. Velgrynd, standing still, her body trembling slightly—not in fear, but in disbelief.

The imperial throne room, a place of absolute power, had just been shaken to its core—by a single intruder.