The final war

The Army Takes Flight

As every soldier mounted their dragons, the underground caverns of Hetlyl shook with the force of millions of wings. Each squad consisted of three human warriors and one dragon, forming an unstoppable force.

At the front, Rayal and Elric sat atop Dragonista, their weapons secured,armor made of dragon flesh, sword made of dragons bones, bottle filled with dragon breath that could be throw to ground to make a explosion enough to engulf and 30 feet dragon fully, their expressions unreadable. But unlike every other squad, they were missing a third partner.

That was about to change.

Rika approached, her spear strapped to her back, a smirk on her face. "I'm ordered to join the leader squad."

Rayal and Elric exchanged a glance. There was no hesitation.

Without a word, they shifted aside, making room for her on Dragonista's back. She climbed up effortlessly, settling into place behind them.

"You sure you can keep up?" Elric asked with a raised eyebrow.

Rika grinned. "You sure you can?"

Dragonista snorted, as if amused.

Now, the leader squad was whole again.

An Army Like No Other

Beneath them, the massive army of 2,000,000 dragons and their riders stretched as far as the eye could see. The sheer power gathered in this one place was something that had never been seen before.

Each dragon carried three warriors, their armor gleaming under the dim cavern lights.

Above them, the cavern ceiling was lined with battle flags, each representing a different squad. Every squad had trained for this moment, prepared for the war that would decide the fate of the world.

Rayal looked down at the 50,000 extra dragons that had been set aside.

These were not assigned to squads yet—they existed only for replacements. If a dragon fell in battle, the squad would be given another immediately.

But Rayal knew the truth.

There would never be enough replacements.

This war would claim more lives than they could prepare for.

The Defenders of Hetlyl

Not everyone would march to war. 50 elite dragon squads, each formed of young but highly trained recruits, would stay behind to guard Hetlyl.

Rayal had personally selected them.

These were the best of the new generation, warriors who had not yet fought in large-scale battles but had proven their worth through brutal training.

They were assigned to patrol every tunnel, every weak spot, every possible breach.

If even one enemy dragon managed to break through and reach Hetlyl, it would be their job to stop it—no matter the cost.

Elric glanced at them and muttered, "They're too young for this."

Rayal shook his head. "They're ready. They have to be."

Because if they weren't, Hetlyl would fall before the war even began.

The Final Standby

Silence fell over the army.

Rayal took a deep breath. This was it. Every decision he had ever made, every battle he had ever fought, every life that had been lost—it all led to this moment.

The war was no longer in the future.

It had arrived.

Elric adjusted his armor. "How long until we get the signal?"

Syra's voice came through the communication system. "Five minutes."

Rika tightened her grip on her spear. "Good. I hate waiting."

Dragonista's wings tensed, ready to launch.

Across the army, thousands of dragons growled, shifted, and prepared for flight.

And then—

A distant horn echoed through the tunnels.

The signal had been given.

The final war had begun.

Rayal leaned forward. "Move out."

Dragonista's wings unfurled..

And Hetlyl's army took to the skies.

Every squad moved at incredible speed, their dragons cutting through the wind like arrows. The moment all of humanity had awaited had finally arrived.

This was it. The Final War.

As they approached the Temple of the Hollow King, the place where this war would be decided, they could not believe their eyes.

At first, they thought the 200-foot dragon standing at the temple gates was the King of Dragons. It was enormous, far larger than the average Hollow Dragon.

But then, the ground shook beneath them.

A shadow fell across the battlefield.

And the truth was revealed.

Towering over the ruins, a single dragon, 500 feet tall, its scales black as the void, its eyes burning with unnatural blue fire, spread its wings. The true King of Dragons.

It wasn't alone.

Thirty dragons, each 300 feet tall, surrounded it.

The so-called "King" they had seen before? It was nothing. A mere bait to lure them into battle.

The real fight was about to begin.

A wave of pure rage spread through Hetlyl's forces in an instant.

Rayal's blood boiled. They had been tricked, manipulated.

But none of that mattered now.

He drew his swords, his voice echoing across the battlefield.

"CHARGE!!!"

The sky exploded with movement.

Hetlyl's warriors rushed forward, splitting into formations.

Some dived straight for the 300-foot dragons, locking into fierce mid-air duels.

Some broke off, focusing on the 200-foot bait dragon, determined to take it down first.

And the rest? They went for the true King.

The battle had begun.

The Sky Burns

The first clash shook the heavens.

A massive 300-foot dragon crashed into a squad of Hetlyl warriors, its claws tearing through the air. Three dragons and their riders were knocked off course instantly.

But before the beast could strike again, Rika speared straight through its wing.

The massive dragon roared in fury, spiraling toward the earth.

But another took its place.

The sky was a storm of wings, fire, and steel.

Rayal darted through the chaos, slicing through smaller dragons like a hurricane of death.

Below, Dain swung his massive axe, cleaving a dragon's leg clean off, sending it crashing into the temple ruins.

Kael moved like a shadow, disappearing and reappearing, striking the enemy with brutal precision.

But the enemy was relentless.

For every dragon they took down, two more surged forward.

And then, the 500-foot King finally moved.

Rayal barely had time to react.

A shockwave blasted outward, sending entire squads spiraling through the air.

Rayal's grip tightened on Dragonista's reins.

This was going to be the hardest fight of their lives.

The King Strikes Back

The 500-foot King of Dragons unleashed another wave of destruction, its blue energy beam cutting through the sky like a storm.

Rayal barely had time to think before the heat from the blast burned through the air around him.

Dragonista dove hard, avoiding the direct hit, but many warriors weren't as lucky. The energy cut through several squads, sending warriors falling from the sky.

And then—the ground shook.

Below, Dain stood his ground, battling three 300-foot dragons alone. His massive axe dripped with dragon blood as he swung at the enemies surrounding him.

One dragon charged—Dain dodged and struck, taking it down instantly.

The second clawed at him, slashing his armor, but Dain pushed forward, refusing to fall.

The third dragon attacked from above.

Rayal saw it before Dain did.

"Dain, move!" Rayal shouted.

But it was too late.

The dragon swooped down, its massive jaws clamping around Dain before he could react.

For a brief second, everything went still.

Then, with a powerful shake, the dragon threw Dain's body aside.

He did not get back up.

Rayal felt his chest tighten. Dain was one of their strongest warriors—and now he was gone.

But there was no time to grieve.

The battle raged on.

Rayal clenched his swords tighter.

They had lost one of their best.

But the war was far from over.

Rayal barely had time to register Dain's death before the battle swallowed him again.

The sky was a battlefield of chaos, filled with fire, wings, and steel. Thousands of dragons clashed in midair, their roars echoing through the sky as warriors fought with everything they had.

Rika and Elric charged forward with Rayal, weaving between enemy formations as they pushed toward the King.

Below, Hetlyl's ground forces were under attack from the remaining 300-foot dragons. With Dain gone, their strongest fighter on the ground had fallen.

And now, the enemy was tearing through them.

Rayal gritted his teeth. They couldn't afford to lose any more people.

He pulled on Dragonista's reins. "We take down the big ones first!"

Dragonista roared in agreement and dove straight toward one of the 300-foot dragons, its massive claws swinging at an injured squad.

Rayal leapt off Dragonista mid-air, flipping over the enemy dragon's head. As he fell, he drove both swords into its skull.

The dragon let out a deafening screech, thrashing violently before crashing into the battlefield below.

One down.

But there were still so many left.

Rika flew past him, hurling a flaming spear directly into another dragon's eye. It roared in pain, spinning wildly before smashing into one of its own kind.

Elric led a squad of aerial warriors, diving through the chaos, cutting down enemies before they could react.

For a moment, it seemed like they were holding their ground.

And then—the King moved.

The King's Wrath

The 500-foot King of Dragons flapped its massive wings once, and a shockwave tore through the sky.

Hetlyl's forces were blown backward, dragons and warriors alike losing formation.

Rayal held onto Dragonista's reins tightly, struggling to regain control.

Then—the King opened its mouth.

A deep blue glow built up in its throat.

Syra's voice rang through the communication system. "Rayal, get out of there!"

But it was too late.

A blast of blue energy erupted from the King's mouth, cutting through the battlefield like a spear of destruction.

It struck directly through the center of Hetlyl's army, sending dragons and warriors falling like rain.

Rayal felt his heart stop. So many lives—gone in an instant.

But the blast hadn't just hit the army.

It had gone straight through Syra's command tower.

Syra's Last Stand

The entire watchtower collapsed.

Rayal's blood ran cold.

Syra had been commanding the battlefield from that tower. If she didn't make it out in time—

He pulled on Dragonista's reins, diving toward the ruins below.

The ground was covered in smoke and rubble. The tower was completely destroyed.

Then, through the dust, Syra emerged.

She was limping, one arm completely crushed, but she was still alive.

Elric landed beside her. "Syra! Can you move?"

She coughed, blood dripping from her lips. "I'll be fine."

But Rayal could see the truth.

She wasn't fine.

Syra's legs wouldn't hold her up. Her breathing was shallow. She was barely standing.

She wasn't going to make it.

But she still forced herself to stand.

She looked up at Rayal, her eyes sharp, determined. "I need to give you one last strategy."

Rayal shook his head. "You're coming with us."

Syra smiled weakly. "No. I'm not."

Then, she turned toward the battlefield, raised her sword, and shouted one last order.

"Keep fighting! Hold the lines!"

The remaining warriors roared in response.

Then—the ground collapsed beneath her.

Rayal's breath caught in his throat as he watched Syra disappear into the ruins.

They couldn't save her.

She was gone.

Another warrior lost.

Rayal gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay focused.

There was no time to grieve.

Because the King was still standing.

The Battlefield Shifts

Rayal tore his gaze away from the ruins where Syra had fallen. He couldn't afford to stop now.

They were losing too many warriors.

And worse—the battle was still happening dangerously close to Hetlyl.

If they kept fighting here, the dragons could eventually break through the tunnels and wipe out their home completely.

That couldn't happen.

Elric, still gripping his sword tightly, noticed Rayal's expression. "You're thinking something."

Rayal took a deep breath. "We need to move the battlefield."

Elric's eyes widened. "You want us to retreat?"

"No," Rayal said. "I want us to lead the dragons away."

For a moment, Elric just stared at him. Then, realization dawned on his face.

"If we pull them far enough," Elric muttered, "they'll follow us instead of breaking into Hetlyl."

Rayal nodded. "Exactly. If we keep them focused on us, the city stays safe."

Rika, still seething with anger from Syra's death, tightened her grip on her spear. "Then what are we waiting for?"

She turned to the remaining warriors. "FALL BACK! DRAW THEM AWAY FROM HETLYL!"

The order rippled through the battlefield.

One by one, squads broke away from the fight, changing direction and heading farther from Hetlyl.

The dragons hesitated for only a moment—then gave chase.

Rayal pulled on Dragonista's reins. They had to move fast.

The final battle was no longer near Hetlyl.

Now, they would decide where the war would end.

The Endless Sky

As the army flew farther and farther away from the underground tunnels, the battlefield expanded.

They had never fought in open skies like this.

Below them, the land stretched endlessly—vast plains, ancient ruins, and dark forests. They had left their home behind.

Rika glanced back. "How far do we go?"

Rayal didn't have an answer. "Far enough that Hetlyl is safe. Far enough that the dragons have no choice but to focus on us."

Elric exhaled. "Then we'd better make this count."

The sky was full of movement. The remaining warriors of Hetlyl soared forward, leading the enemy farther and farther from their home.

Behind them, the full might of the Hollow Dragons followed.

The 500-foot King of Dragons let out a deep, echoing roar, its voice filled with rage. It knew what they were doing—but it wasn't about to let them escape.

The hunt was on.

And soon, the final battle would begin again.

The fight is starting again immediately a 300 feet dragon caught up to the leader squad and pushed dragonista Elric and Rayal gripped dragonista hard so they don't fall off, but fate was different for rika she fell down in mid air she said "im sorry" and another 300 foot dragon ate her mid air

The Sky Turns Red

Rayal watched in horror as Rika fell.

Her voice—"I'm sorry"—was barely a whisper before the massive jaws of a 300-foot dragon closed around her.

And just like that—she was gone.

There was no time to react. No time to grieve.

Because the dragon that had killed her wasn't done.

It turned its glowing eyes toward Rayal and Elric, its wings cutting through the wind as it lunged at them next.

Dragonista twisted violently, trying to avoid its charge. Rayal and Elric gripped the saddle tightly, barely holding on.

Rayal's mind was racing.

They had lost Dain.

They had lost Syra.

Now, they had lost Rika.

And the battle was far from over.

Rage surged through him. His grip tightened around his swords.

This dragon was going to die.

He kicked off Dragonista's saddle, launching himself straight at the enemy dragon.

Revenge in the Sky

The 300-foot dragon opened its jaws, ready to incinerate him mid-air.

But Rayal was faster.

He spun in midair, twisting past the dragon's head, slashing both swords across its neck.

Thick, dark blood sprayed through the air as the beast howled in pain.

Rayal wasn't done.

He landed on the dragon's back, stabbing his swords into its spine.

The dragon roared, thrashing violently, trying to shake him off.

Elric, still on Dragonista, saw what Rayal was doing and moved in to finish the job.

He pulled out his crossbow, aimed for the beast's exposed throat, and fired.

The arrow pierced deep.

The dragon let out a final cry before its wings gave out.

Rayal leapt off just in time as the creature plummeted toward the earth below. Dragonista directly came below Rayal, Rayal had a safe landing on dragonista

Another enemy down.

But the battle wasn't over.

The King Attacks

The 500-foot King of Dragons had been watching.

And now, it finally moved.

It spread its wings wide, unleashing a deafening roar.

A pulse of pure energy blasted outward, sending entire squads spiraling through the sky.

Rayal barely regained his balance before the King's glowing blue eyes locked onto him.

It was coming for him.

Dragonista growled beneath him, sensing the threat.

Elric pulled his sword free. "Rayal—if we fight this thing, we fight to the end."

Rayal didn't hesitate.

"We end this now."

The King of Dragons charged.

And the final battle truly began.

The Last Stand Begins

The sky was no longer a battlefield. It was a graveyard.

Every single 300-foot and 200-foot dragon had been slaughtered.

The warriors of Hetlyl had completed their mission.

But the cost had been unbearable.

The leader squad was nearly gone.

Dain had been crushed.

Syra had been buried.

Rika had been devoured.

Now, there was only Rayal and Elric.

And the King of Dragons.

A beast so massive it darkened the skies, its glowing blue eyes filled with nothing but fury.

And it was still standing.

The surviving warriors of Hetlyl—those who had made it this far—turned their focus onto one final target.

Every remaining dragon, every remaining soldier, lunged at the King at once.

This was it.

The final attack.

The King's Fury

The 500-foot dragon let out a roar so powerful that the very air trembled.

Then—it struck.

Its tail whipped through the sky, colliding with an entire formation of warriors.

In an instant, they were gone.

Their dragons fell like shooting stars, crashing into the earth below.

Rayal and Elric dove through the chaos, weaving between the King's attacks.

Above them, Kael—the silent assassin, the warrior who had fought in the shadows for so long—led a squad of warriors directly toward the King's head.

He leapt off his dragon midair, daggers drawn.

His target? The King's glowing eyes.

If they could blind it, they had a chance.

But the King was faster than anyone thought possible.

It snapped its jaws forward, catching Kael in its fangs.

For a brief moment, Kael's daggers flashed—

Then, he was gone.

Another warrior lost.

Rayal saw it happen, rage boiling inside him. He had lost too many.

But he didn't have time to mourn.

Because the King was still killing.

A Storm of Death

The remaining warriors threw everything they had at the King.

Spears, swords, arrows—none of it was enough.

The beast swung its wings, sending warriors spiraling in all directions.

It unleashed another blue energy blast, wiping out entire squadrons in a single second.

One by one, more warriors fell.

The sky was turning red with fire and blood.

Elric turned to Rayal, breathing hard. "We can't hold this forever."

Rayal gritted his teeth.

Then they wouldn't hold it.

They would end it.

Rayal pulled on Dragonista's reins. "We go for the kill."

Elric nodded. "Together."

The Last Resistance

Rayal steadied himself, his grip tightening on Dragonista's reins. The battlefield was not empty.

Though many had fallen, 300,000 squads still remained, their warriors refusing to back down.

Elric, though wounded, was still in the fight.

And the King of Dragons still lived.

The sky was still filled with war.

Dragons roared and clashed, fire and steel meeting in a brutal storm. The warriors of Hetlyl, despite everything, were holding the line.

Rayal breathed hard, his entire body aching.

This was far from over.

He turned to Elric, who flew beside him, blood streaking down his arm.

"We need to change our approach," Elric shouted over the storm of battle. "Charging in headfirst won't work!"

Rayal knew he was right.

They had to think.

They had to outmaneuver the King.

Rayal's eyes scanned the battlefield.

They still had a fighting chance.

And this time—they wouldn't lose.

The Next Phase Begins

Rayal raised his swords, his voice cutting through the chaos.

"All squads—REGROUP!"

The remaining 300,000 squads pulled back, reforming into new formations.

The King of Dragons growled, sensing the shift in strategy.

But this war was not yet decided.

Rayal narrowed his eyes.

They would fight smarter.

They would fight stronger.

And no matter what—they would win

The Battle Enters Its Bloodiest Phase

The skies were still burning. The roar of dragons, the clash of steel, and the desperate cries of warriors filled the battlefield.

Rayal gritted his teeth as Dragonista soared through the chaos, weaving between massive wings and deadly claws. The battle had raged for hours, but there was no stopping now.

The King of Dragons still lived.

And now, the final phase of the war was upon them.

The warriors of Hetlyl had fought with everything they had, but the cost had been devastating. 50,000 more squads had fallen.

Now, only 250,000 remained.

They had to finish this.

They had to win.

Or else, everything would be lost.

The King's Next Move

The 500-foot King of Dragons hovered in the air, its dark wings stretched across the battlefield.

It was watching them. Studying them.

Then—it struck.

The King's chest began to glow, brighter than before.

Rayal's stomach twisted.

It was preparing another energy blast.

"MOVE!" he shouted.

But the King was faster.

A beam of blinding blue energy erupted from its mouth, slicing through the sky.

It tore through dozens of squads instantly.

Dragons and warriors alike were erased from existence in a flash of light.

Rayal barely managed to pull Dragonista away in time, but he could feel the heat of the blast searing past him.

And then—the unthinkable happened.

The beam struck Dragonista's left wing.

Rayal felt the impact before he heard it.

Dragonista let out a heart-wrenching roar, its body twisting wildly.

The dragon's wing was gone.

They were falling.

The Death of a Legend

Rayal's grip tightened on the saddle. He could hear Elric shouting his name from somewhere above, but he couldn't respond.

The wind rushed past him, the battlefield becoming a blur.

Dragonista was falling too fast.

Rayal gritted his teeth and did the only thing he could—he pulled his sword free and sliced through the saddle's straps.

He fell just before Dragonista hit the ground.

A deafening crash shook the battlefield.

Rayal landed hard, rolling across the dirt. His body screamed in pain, but he forced himself to look up.

Dragonista lay still.

Rayal's breath caught.

For a moment, he hoped.

But as he pushed himself forward—he saw it.

Dragonista's body was broken.

His oldest companion, his most trusted ally—was gone.

Rayal clenched his fists, his entire body trembling.

His dragon—his partner—had died protecting him.

This war had taken everything from him.

And now, it would pay.

The Final Mount

Elric landed beside him, his own dragon breathing heavily. "Rayal—get up!"

Rayal barely heard him. His ears were ringing.

But then, he saw it—a single extra dragon landing before them.

The second-to-last reserve dragon.

Rayal clenched his fists.

He forced himself to his feet.

This war wasn't over yet.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the reins and climbed onto his new dragon.

Elric climbed up beside him.

And together—they took to the skies again.

The final battle was about to reach its conclusion.

The Final Strike

Rayal's body ached, his vision blurred, but he refused to stop. This was the end.

Below them, the battlefield was littered with the fallen—dragons, warriors, entire squadrons lost to the war.

Above them, the King of Dragons still stood.

Its dark wings beat against the storm-filled sky, its glowing blue eyes locked onto Rayal as if recognizing its true opponent.

This was it.

The final fight.

Rayal gripped his swords tightly, his heart pounding in his chest. No more hesitation. No more fear.

This war had taken Dain.

It had taken Syra.

It had taken Rika.

It had taken Dragonista.

But it would not take their victory.

The remaining 250,000 squads roared in defiance, their dragons surging forward.

And Rayal, with Elric at his side, led the charge.

The King's Last Stand

The 500-foot monster unleashed another deafening roar.

It flapped its massive wings once—and the entire sky shook.

Another energy blast built up in its throat, glowing brighter than ever before.

Rayal's grip tightened. "We end this NOW!"

Every remaining warrior dove forward.

The King fired its final attack.

A massive wave of destruction shot through the air, tearing through the battlefield.

Squads dodged, weaved, pushed forward despite the storm of energy.

Rayal broke through the chaos, his dragon soaring straight toward the King's exposed chest.

He locked eyes with Elric.

Elric nodded.

Then—they struck.

Rayal dove in first, his swords flashing.

Elric followed, his own weapon slicing deep.

The King of Dragons let out a final roar, its body twisting violently.

The battlefield went silent.

And then—

The King Dragon finally falls.

Epilogue

The End of the War

The battlefield was silent.

The once-burning sky, filled with roaring dragons and the clash of warriors, had gone completely still.

The King of Dragons had fallen.

And now, the last remnants of its kind were fading away.

The Vanishing of the Dragons

Rayal and Elric, still in the air, watched in disbelief as the dragons began to disappear.

The extra dragon beneath them flickered for a moment—then vanished instantly, as if it had never existed.

But the larger dragons did not fade as quickly.

The bodies of the 300-foot and 500-foot dragons, the beasts that had terrorized humanity for generations, began to dissolve into glowing particles, their forms breaking apart like dust in the wind.

The world was finally rid of them.

But Rayal and Elric had no time to process this victory.

Because they were falling.

With no dragon beneath them, they plummeted toward the ground, the battlefield rushing up to meet them.

Rayal tried to move, tried to control the fall, but his body was failing him.

This was it.

This was how it would end.

But then—a shadow passed beneath them.

A 40-foot dragon, its scales dull and scarred, swooped in from below.

It had lost its human partners. It had fought without a squad, without orders, simply following instinct.

And now, in its final act—it saved them.

Rayal and Elric crashed onto its back, barely conscious, their bodies aching from the fall.

The dragon flapped its wings weakly, lowering them toward the ground.

With its last strength, it landed safely, its large body shaking with exhaustion.

Rayal and Elric slid off, their boots touching the bloodstained earth.

The moment they let go—the dragon flickered once… and vanished.

The last dragon was gone.

The Last Survivor

Elric steadied himself, his breathing uneven. "That was… close."

Rayal, still trying to stand, nodded. "Too close."

Then, a scream cut through the silence.

They turned just in time to see Sera, the only other survivor, plummeting from the sky.

Elric didn't hesitate.

He lunged forward, catching her arm mid-air.

But the impact dragged both him and Sera down.

Rayal grabbed Elric's other arm, planting his feet firmly to stop them from falling.

For a few tense seconds, they barely held on.

Then, with one final pull, they dragged Sera back onto solid ground.

She collapsed onto her knees, gasping for breath.

Her eyes were wide with terror.

She was traumatized.

She had seen too much. Lost too much.

Rayal looked at her, at Elric, at the empty battlefield around them.

They were the last ones left.

The last three survivors of the final war.

The Final Signal

Rayal stumbled forward, his body barely holding together.

He reached into his armor, fingers brushing against a small, metal alarm.

The signal to be used only when the war was over.

His hands were shaking as he pulled it out.

He didn't know how many people in Hetlyl would hear it.

He didn't even know if they were still alive.

But he had to try.

He pressed it.

A loud, piercing sound rang through the ruined landscape.

For a long time, there was nothing.

Then—in the distance, a response.

The people of Hetlyl had heard it.

They were coming.

The Horrors of War

Back in Hetlyl, the survivors had waited with bated breath. They had not dared to leave their underground home.

But the alarm meant victory.

The war was over.

Dozens of civilians, soldiers, and medics rushed out of the underground tunnels, mounting horses they had found in an abandoned settlement.

They rode toward the battlefield, their hearts pounding with anticipation.

They were cheering, calling out to each other, smiling for the first time in years.

They were ready to welcome home their warriors.

But when they arrived—the cheering stopped.

What they saw was beyond horror.

The battlefield was a wasteland of death.

Bodies of warriors littered the ground, their weapons still clenched in stiff hands.

Fallen dragons lay in pieces, their bodies halfway dissolved.

And in the middle of it all—

Rayal, barely standing, leaning on Elric for support.

And beside them, Sera—shaking, silent, staring at nothing.

The people of Hetlyl did not celebrate.

They wept.

They had won.

But at what cost?

Years passed.

The surface world, once ruled by dragons, was now free.

But humanity did not return immediately.

The war had been too devastating. The land was scarred, unstable, and filled with ruins.

So, for decades, they remained underground in Hetlyl, rebuilding what they had lost.

But with time, construction began.

Brick by brick, stone by stone, the first city on the surface in hundreds of years was built.

It started small—just a few outposts, watchtowers, farms.

Then it grew.

Within Rayal's lifetime, humanity had begun to reclaim the world.

The war was no longer just a memory.

It was history.

And Rayal lived long enough to see the world change.

The Death of a Legend

Rayal, the warrior who had led humanity to its greatest victory, lived to the age of 80.

He was no longer the fierce, battle-hardened warrior of his youth.

His hair had turned gray. His body, once unbreakable, had weakened with time.

But he never stopped watching over humanity.

He spent his final years overseeing the surface city's construction, ensuring that the world they had fought for would last.

And then, one night—he simply did not wake up.

Rayal died of a heart attack, peacefully, surrounded by those who had survived with him.

For the first time in his life—he could rest.

Elric's Fate

Elric, who had been by Rayal's side from the very beginning, lived on for another year.

But without Rayal, his world felt empty.

And then, in the most unexpected way—he died.

Not in battle.

Not from old age.

But because he tripped over a flight of stairs.

Some called it a tragic end. Others called it fitting.

But in the end, Elric died the way he lived—unexpectedly, and with no fear.

The End of an Era

With Rayal and Elric gone, a new generation took over.

Humanity continued to grow, to rebuild, to rise.

The war was over.

The dragons were gone.

And at last—the world belonged to humans again.

The story of the Hollow Apocalypse had ended.

But humanity's story was just beginning.