The trio moved deeper into the mist-laden forest, each step heavier than the last, as if the very ground was resisting their progress. The air thickened with the weight of an unseen presence, and the trees loomed like silent sentinels. They had barely moved another few steps when the air around them shivered.
Without warning, a small tornado spiraled up from the ground in front of them. The wind screamed like a banshee, swirling dust and debris into the air before—just as quickly as it had appeared—it vanished.
And there, standing in the clearing before them, was a creature born of pure chaos: a dragon. Its massive wings crackled with energy, lightning arcing off its scales like a living storm. Its eyes, glowing a menacing red, locked onto them instantly, and it snarled, revealing fangs as sharp as daggers.
Before they could react, the dragon shot into the air, its roar echoing through the forest like a thunderclap. The sky darkened in response, the clouds swirling above as if controlled by the dragon itself.
Then, with terrifying speed, the dragon summoned a bolt of red lightning, aiming it directly at them.
"MOVE!" Stiles shouted, grabbing Dante and SteelArm by the arm and pulling them behind the nearest tree for cover. The crackling energy slammed into the spot where they had been standing, sending splinters of bark flying in every direction.
"Shit!" Dante gritted his teeth.
SteelArm wasted no time. With a grunt of effort, he slammed his fists into the ground. [Earthen Grip] The earth rumbled as large stone hands shot up from the ground, encircling them like a protective cocoon. Another bolt of lightning crashed into the barrier, the force of it shaking the earth, but SteelArm's defense held firm.
The dragon circled above, its form becoming a blur of dark scales and crackling energy. It descended again, landing in the middle of an open field with an almighty crash. The ground trembled beneath its feet as the dragon's red eyes bored into them with cold, unblinking rage.
"Fight me!" it bellowed, its voice like a crack of thunder. "I am Vix, the dragon of destruction lightning!"
The air grew heavier, crackling with violent energy as Vix shot back into the sky. In an instant, the clouds above darkened completely, and a storm of red lightning rained down upon them with brutal force.
SteelArm gritted his teeth and slammed his fists down again. [Earthen Grip] The barrier of stone rose, but this time, the barrage of lightning was faster, more intense. The rocks cracked under the sheer force of the bolts, but SteelArm pushed himself harder, his body shaking with the effort of keeping the defense intact.
The rain of lightning seemed endless, striking with ruthless precision. SteelArm could feel his strength waning with each strike, but finally, the barrage stopped as suddenly as it had started.
Vix landed again, its massive black wings folding as its red eyes glowed brighter than before. The dragon's scales rippled with electricity, sending arcs of power crackling through the air as it stared them down, waiting for their next move.
Dante, SteelArm, and Stiles exchanged a glance. A plan was already forming in their minds.
Dante stepped forward first, his eyes narrowing with focus. "I'll make the first move. We need to keep it off balance." His hands flicked through a series of motions, and in an instant, a spear formed from shimmering ethereal energy. He hurled it toward the dragon with deadly precision.
The moment the spear left his hand, SteelArm's voice rang out. "It'll try to distract the dragon!"
Dante smirked, with a swift motion, he used [Phantom Cleave] on the spear through the air, making a counter-strike aimed directly at the dragon. Even if the spear was redirected, the Cleave would follow through, weakening the dragon's defenses. Stiles was already preparing. His body was a blur as he activated his skill, [Luminous Rift]. Light gathered in the air around him, coalescing into a bright, crackling orb that pulsed with pure energy. He aimed carefully, calculating the perfect moment to release it, but he knew it had to hit at just the right moment.
SteelArm's eyes sharpened as he extended his arms out. His fingers dug into the earth as he activated [Earthen Grip] once again. Large stone hands surged from the ground, aiming to lock around the dragon's foot, hoping to hold it in place long enough for the others to strike.
The moment it wrapped around Vix's foot, the dragon let out a roar that split the air. With a single, violent twitch of its massive leg, the stone hand was shattered, the rocks crumbling into dust as though they were nothing more than sand.
Vix was already reacting to the spear coming towards him, its wings flaring wide as it shot upward with terrifying speed, dodging the strike with an ease that left no doubt of its superiority. The spear flew harmlessly through the air, missing the dragon by mere inches.
Vix, still mid-air, seemed to command the storm. The lightning rained down in a fierce, chaotic torrent, and the barrage slammed into the incoming Luminous Rift that Stiles released with explosive force. The skill detonated in a blinding explosion, the shockwave shaking the earth beneath them. Stiles was thrown back from the force of it, his body slamming into a nearby tree.
The sky burned with the intensity of the lightning strikes, and Vix's silhouette emerged from the smoke, still soaring above them. Its glowing red eyes never left their form, the dragon circling like a predator, ready to strike again.
Vix loomed above them, its crimson eyes glowing with unrestrained malice. Its maw widened, crackling with overwhelming power as a concentrated beam of red electricity formed, a streak of destruction aimed directly at them.
SteelArm reacted on instinct, slamming his hands into the ground. "[Earthen Grip]!" he roared as jagged stone surged upward, forming a massive hand to shield them. But the moment Vix's attack connected, the stone shattered like brittle glass, obliterated in an instant.
The red lightning surged through their bodies before they could react. Agony tore through their nerves, every muscle seizing as electricity crawled through their veins. Dante, SteelArm, and Stiles collapsed onto the ground, their limbs refusing to move, their vision flickering.
Stiles gritted his teeth, his mind screaming for his body to move, but nothing responded. His fingers twitched, his vision blurred—then the world around him faded.
Suddenly, he wasn't in the forest anymore.
Before his eyes, there was only blood. Rivers of crimson twisted through the land, winding in impossible patterns. A mountain of corpses loomed ahead, bodies stacked so high they seemed to pierce the heavens. The air was thick, suffocating, carrying the scent of iron and decay.
His breathing quickened as his gaze swept across the landscape. Then—movement.
A lone figure stood amidst the carnage.
And before Stiles could react, it was in front of him.
"Is this really how you're going to die?" The voice was smooth, yet edged with something sharp—something ancient. The figure's gaze locked onto him, burning into his very soul. "After everything you've been through... a dragon is what you'll allow to end you?" It tilted its head, as if the thought alone was laughable.
Stiles's breath hitched. His muscles tensed, the paralysis from before feeling insignificant compared to the weight of this presence. "Who the hell... are you?" he managed.
The figure stepped forward, emerging fully from the blood.
"Riven. The previous Principle of Bloodshed." His lips curled into a grin, though his crimson eyes remained unreadable. "It's been a while."
Stiles' heartbeat thundered in his chest. "You... How are you here?"
Riven chuckled, the sound low and amused. "Did you really think that killing me was enough to get rid of me?" He shook his head. "When we performed the transfer, you didn't just inherit the Principle, Stiles. You took part of my soul with you. That's how the process works—though, I didn't exactly have time to explain back then."
His expression darkened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. "I've seen everything you've done since then. Every moment. Every breath. Every pathetic second you've wasted. From lying in bed, to training, to getting your ass handed to you right now."
Riven cracked his neck, and at his movement, the blood around them rose, as if responding to his very presence. "And let's be honest, kid. You haven't truly accepted the Principle of Bloodshed yet." His eyes burned into Stiles. "That's why you're going to die here. That's why you will lose."
A low rumble echoed through the sky, and rain began to fall. Only—it wasn't water.
Blood poured from above, drenching the land.
"You made a promise," Riven continued, his voice growing colder. "You swore to kill the bastards who killed me in return for this power. But at this rate? You'll never get the chance. You'll die here, weak and useless. Do you think training alone will make you strong? No. It won't get you shit in this world." He stepped closer, his presence suffocating. "Strength without a reason is meaningless. Power for the sake of power is hollow. And being weak? That will get you—and everyone you care about—killed."
Riven's voice lowered, his words dripping with something primal. "Accept the Principle, Stiles Vorn. Make these rivers flow with fresh blood. Shatter the mountain of corpses, build anew mountain and climb over the bodies of those who stand in your way. That is the only path forward. The only way you can protect your friends."
The blood-rain intensified, turning the ground into a slick, crimson swamp.
"You want to see what happens if you hesitate?" Riven's voice turned taunting. "What if that bastard dragon rips your friends apart, limb from limb, and makes you watch? What if that overgrown lizard that froze Dante sees anyone you like and freezes them... then lets them shatter into pieces? What will you do then, Stiles?"
Stiles' breath came in short, ragged bursts. His fists clenched at his sides.
"Get angry," Riven whispered, stepping so close their foreheads nearly touched. "Accept the blood-craved beast inside of you and kill. That. Dragon. For everyone's sake."