Chapter 9: Crimson Reckoning

The drake lunged, its breath heavy with the stench of sulfur and rot. Its jaws snapped as it surged toward Kairos, claws tearing through the scorched earth.

Kairos braced. Then moved.

He dropped low, sliding under the beast with inches to spare, coal dust and ash spraying around him in a crimson mist. His blade flashed like silver lightning—clean, precise—as it met the creature's armored hide.

But the moment steel met scale, Kairos felt it.

A sickening resistance.

Then—nothing.

His blade scraped across the drake's hide and slid off as though deflected by ancient stone.

"Damnit," he hissed, breath catching in his throat.

The drake's massive tail whirled.

Kairos barely had time to register it before the impact slammed into his ribs like a falling star. Pain detonated in his side as he was flung through the air, his body colliding with the bloodred trees. Bark cracked. Branches splintered. The trees shattered like glass, toppling from the force of his landing.

"KAIROS!"

Lysander and Zephyrus shouted in unison.

But the drake didn't stop. Its attention remained fixed—locked—on Kairos like a predator determined to snuff out the weakest link.

It charged again.

Kairos coughed, blood bubbling from his lips. He staggered to his feet, bones screaming. His vision blurred, the world spinning in a drunken tilt.

Inside, something was burning. Not metaphorically—literally. His chest felt like it had been lit ablaze. He could taste iron in his mouth.

Internal hemorrhage, he realized.

His limbs felt like they were underwater. Too slow. Too heavy.

But still, he moved.

Dragged his battered body forward, refusing to fall.

Behind him, Illumi's voice rang sharp and clear.

"THE THROAT TO THE CHEST—IT'S SOFTER THERE! Aim for the front!"

She stood atop a crumbled obsidian branch, golden eyes unblinking. Her pupils danced, tracking every twitch, every breath. Her voice was like a scalpel, cutting through the chaos.

"Only that section has unsealed scale overlap—it's where it breathes!"

The fight surged again.

Lysander was the first to meet the charge. Her weapon spun from her runic tattoo with liquid brilliance, the red glyphs on her wrist glowing like molten metal. Her form was precise—measured. Every step calculated. Every swing was elegant death.

She ducked a swipe, spun, then slashed toward the drake's throat.

The blade rang off its hide with a shriek of metal on stone.

Not deep enough.

Zephyrus roared from behind, hurling himself into the fray with reckless might. He didn't draw his swords—he couldn't. Instead, he met the monster with bare fists wrapped in glowing sigils. His punches cracked the earth, sending shockwaves through the air.

He leapt, spun midair, and struck the drake across the jaw.

The beast stumbled, letting out a roar of surprise.

But it didn't fall.

Not yet.

Kairos joined in again, breath ragged. His blade gleamed as he slipped behind the beast, weaving between its legs and targeting joints.

He was calculating angles now. Watching how it turned, how its tail twitched before it struck. He wasn't the strongest, nor the fastest. But he watched. He studied.

"Zephyrus, tail!" Kairos shouted.

The older brother twisted mid-dodge, grabbing the tail as it swung and anchoring it with brute force.

"NOW, LYSANDER!"

She shot forward like a silver dart, her blade piercing just under the chin—finally drawing blood.

The drake screamed.

Its roar shook the cursed forest, and something in the sky cracked in response. The red clouds twitched, twitching like they could bleed.

Their tattoos glowed brighter, lines of red flowing like blood across their skin.

They could feel it now—the suppression.

Something in this realm was pushing down on them. On their essence. Their powers. It made them feel small. Locked. Their soul energy was being caged.

They couldn't summon their abilities. Couldn't expand their essence beyond their weapons.

Because they'd summoned their soul weapons before crossing the dome, they still had them.

But their power—the true heart of what made them anomalies—was sealed.

"Something's watching us," Illumi murmured from above. "Something vast. It doesn't want us using our powers."

None of them responded.

They couldn't afford to think about it.

The drake was bleeding now. But it had grown more frantic—more feral.

It spun, tail flailing, mouth foaming. Its claws cut a deep gouge across Zephyrus' side, ripping through muscle.

He grunted but didn't fall.

Lysander had a slash across her thigh. Kairos' entire left side was bruised black.

The beast lunged again.

And this time, Kairos let it.

He slid forward, blade reversed in his hand.

The drake opened its mouth—roaring.

Kairos dove into the scream.

He flipped, drove his blade upward from the throat into the soft under-scales beneath the jaw.

It howled, stumbled, and Lysander followed, stabbing deep into its chest. Zephyrus grabbed the creature's horns and pulled its head low, muscles trembling.

"Kairos—FINISH IT!"

Kairos screamed and drove his blade deep into the same wound.

Blood—not red, but black—poured over him.

The drake spasmed.

Then fell.

The ground shook. The sky stilled.

And for a moment—silence.

---

All four of them stood, broken and bruised.

Kairos' mouth was bloodied. His ribs ached like cracked stone. His vision flickered.

Lysander had her left arm limp at her side, dislocated. Blood seeped from her thigh.

Zephyrus' side was torn, but already clotted. He leaned on one knee, panting.

Illumi landed gently beside them, hands trembling slightly.

They stared at the corpse.

A Category 1 monster.

Dead.

They had won.

But they hadn't survived so much as endured.

---

"I saw it during the fight," Illumi whispered. "That structure ahead. The light—it flickered when the drake roared."

Kairos looked up, wiping blood from his eyes.

The temple stood near now, wreathed in the red fog.

It was massive—twisting and tiered like a spine bursting from the earth. The architecture was wrong. Too organic. Its walls pulsed faintly, made of bone-white stone veined with moving crimson light. Sigils—faint, ancient—were etched into the columns. The doors were twelve feet tall, with carvings of faceless kings kneeling before a black sun.

It had no roof. Only spirals of carved arches reaching into the sky like pleading arms.

It was silent.

And it was waiting.

"We're close now," Kairos whispered.

Lysander nodded. "Let's check it out. We're already this deep."

The four of them limped forward.

Toward the temple.

Toward whatever waited inside.

One by one.

And the darkness welcomed them.