The Ritual of the Forsaken Pillar

"The balance you all cling to is nothing but an illusion. The strong are shackled. The weak rule from their ivory towers. The cycle has stagnated." His golden eyes burned beneath his hood. "Pyrion will purge the corruption. He will restore the natural order—the true order of the strong."

Ingi's voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade. "And how many have to burn before your 'true order' is restored?"

Siegfried tilted his head, as if considering the question. "Does it matter?"

A deathly silence settled over us.

Then I stepped forward, Magicore subtly crackling at my fingertips.

"You're a fool."

Siegfried met my gaze, waiting.

I exhaled sharply. "I've fought against monsters that wished for destruction. But you? You think you're playing god—you think you're the one who gets to decide how this world should be." My voice dropped. "You're nothing but a pawn. Someone else is pulling the strings, and you're too blind to see it."

Siegfried's smirk didn't waver, but there was a flicker of something in his golden eyes—interest? Amusement? I couldn't tell.

"A pawn, you say?" His voice was calm, almost mocking. "Then tell me, dragon—who do you think is pulling the strings?"

I held his gaze, refusing to back down. "Someone strong enough to use you without you realizing it. Someone who knows that once Pyrion is unleashed, even you won't be able to control what happens next."

Siegfried tilted his head slightly. "Control?" He chuckled. "You misunderstand. Pyrion was never meant to be controlled."

Fafnir took a step forward, his expression hard. "Then what's your goal? If you're not controlling him, what are you hoping to gain?"

Siegfried let out a slow breath, his fingers tapping against Balmung's hilt. "To bring the world back to what it should be. To erase the stagnation. To cleanse the weak and let only the worthy remain."

"And who decides who is worthy?" Fafnir's voice was low, but edged with barely contained rage. "You?"

Siegfried shrugged. "No one needs to decide. Strength is the only truth. Those who can withstand Pyrion's flames will remain. Those who can't…" He let the words hang in the air, his meaning clear.

Zarathorak scoffed, his eyes burning with fury. "You really think dragons will just stand aside and let this happen?"

Siegfried's smirk widened. "No. I expect dragons to burn like everything else."

The room grew colder despite the suffocating presence of magic. The sheer arrogance in his voice made my blood boil.

"You don't know a damn thing about dragons." Zarathorak's voice was filled with venom. "And you definitely don't know a thing about Pyrion."

Siegfried's expression didn't falter, but there was an unmistakable glint of confidence in his gaze. "You think so? Then tell me, Bloodweaver—how do you explain why Pyrion was sealed away by your kind in the first place?"

Zarathorak's fists clenched. "Because we knew he was too dangerous. Unlike you, we weren't arrogant enough to think we could control his wrath."

Siegfried chuckled, his golden eyes glinting beneath his hood. "Then why didn't you kill him?"

The question lingered in the air.

Fafnir narrowed his eyes. "Because we couldn't."

Siegfried nodded, as if that answer pleased him. "Exactly. And that's the difference between you and me."

He stepped forward, just a fraction. "You call me a pawn. But you—you are nothing but relics of a world that refused to evolve. Dragons, once the apex predators, now living in fear of what they once imprisoned." His voice dropped into something more sinister. "But I? I am the herald of a new age."

I exhaled slowly, my Magicore pulsing beneath my skin. "You really believe that?"

Siegfried grinned. "I don't believe. I know."

Another pulse of magic rippled through the chamber—this time from the chains wrapped around Umbaxis. The ancient dragon groaned in pain, his blood seeping into the cold stone floor.

We didn't have time for this.

I turned my attention back to Siegfried. "Then tell me this—why keep Umbaxis alive? Why not just kill him if your goal is to break the seal?"

Siegfried chuckled. "Oh, I would love to. But unfortunately, his death alone won't be enough."

Fafnir tensed. "Meaning?"

Siegfried's expression darkened slightly. "The ritual requires more than just the blood of an ancient dragon. It needs something else. Something far more… potent."

Zarathorak's eyes widened in realization. "You need a dragon's soul."

Siegfried smiled, slow and deliberate. "Clever, Bloodweaver. Yes, the final key to Pyrion's prison is not just a dragon's life—but their very essence."

A heavy silence settled between us.

They weren't just torturing Umbaxis.

They were preparing him for the sacrifice.

And when the time came—they would rip his soul from his body to complete the ritual.

Fafnir's Magicore flared around him, his rage barely restrained. "You bastards."

Siegfried let out a soft sigh. "Now, now. Let's not be so dramatic. It's only a matter of time before we take what we need."

"Over my dead body," I growled.

Siegfried smirked. "If that's what you wish."

For a moment, everything stood still.

As soon as Siegfried's taunting words left his lips, Zarathorak and Fafnir exploded into action.

Zarathorak's wings spread wide as he lunged, his Bloodfang Claws igniting with crimson energy, slashing toward Siegfried's chest with terrifying force. At the same time, Fafnir flanked from the other side, his Dragon Blast crackling with raw destruction, ready to obliterate Siegfried from existence.

The air shook from the sheer power behind their attacks—yet Siegfried didn't move.

Then—CRACK.

With a simple flick of his wrist, Siegfried's Balmung met both of their attacks in a single, precise motion.

The impact sent out a deafening shockwave, rattling the very foundation of the chamber. A gust of wind howled through the room as the force of the collision sent both Zarathorak and Fafnir flying backward—as if they were nothing more than children being scolded for playing too rough.

As soon as Siegfried's taunting words left his lips, Zarathorak and Fafnir exploded into action.

Zarathorak's wings spread wide as he lunged, his Bloodfang Claws igniting with crimson energy, slashing toward Siegfried's chest with terrifying force. At the same time, Fafnir flanked from the other side, his Dragon Blast crackling with raw destruction, ready to obliterate Siegfried from existence.

The air shook from the sheer power behind their attacks—yet Siegfried didn't move.

Then—CRACK.

With a simple flick of his wrist, Siegfried's Balmung met both of their attacks in a single, precise motion.

The impact sent out a deafening shockwave, rattling the very foundation of the chamber. A gust of wind howled through the room as the force of the collision sent both Zarathorak and Fafnir flying backward—as if they were nothing more than children being scolded for playing too rough.

"That's it?" Siegfried's golden eyes gleamed with mocking amusement. He remained perfectly still, completely unscathed, as if he hadn't just deflected an all-out assault from two of the most fearsome dragons alive. "I expected more from the so-called dragons of old."