A Sword on the Ground

"Mordy, how many times have I told you that you must be careful with the dragon breath?" Naberius was out of breath. "If Uncle didn't complete the symphony of predestination two days ago, I would have died from that."

"Oh…" Mordred nodded, half understanding, creating a gust of wind.

Before Naberius was a menacing beast. It had its back to the sun and cast a terrifying shadow. Countless scales glinted with cold light like blades. When it spoke, it spat out sulfur and fire, creating gales of wind and sparks. It was a giant black dragon!

"Thankfully I just completed the symphony. I really would've died." Naberius raised his mostly-complete left hand and climbed up the dragon from the nose and head. He stabbed himself. Looking at his riddled body, he could not help but feel sad.