Chương 134: The False Demon King

The first attack came from Elias. Not because he was the fastest. Because he was the hero. Because everyone behind him needed to see someone move first. His blade lit up with a golden white. The runes engraved by the College burned along the steel, then the light condensed into a vertical line that split the black roses around him. Lyséa lowered her dragon eyes toward him. She did not move. Elias shouted, "Demon King formation!" The group answered at once. They were no longer the lost teenagers from another world.

They were no longer the clumsy trainees the capital applauded to reassure itself. They had become a weapon. Lena raised a healing circle behind them. Mira opened three layers of analysis around the draconic body. Jonah charged from the left, his shield covered in a dark blue glow. Soren vanished into the shadow of a statue. Garron drove two runic stakes into the ground. Ivara recited forbidden words that made the dragon statues shiver. Nahr, hooded, moved silently around the queen, claws low, breath short.

Lyséa watched all of it. Then she exhaled. Not fire. A pink-and-black breath, almost gentle, that passed over the gardens like perfumed mist. The surface of Garron's stakes rusted. Mira's circles shuddered. Jonah slammed his shield into the ground and was pushed back three steps. Lena had to reinforce her barrier just to keep from falling. Elias crossed through the mist. His sword struck the scales at Lyséa's neck. Clang. A pure sound. Ridiculously small. The blade barely marked her. Lyséa tilted her head.

"So that is your opening strike?" Her voice was not truly mocking. That was worse. She was simply observing. Elias clenched his teeth. His Soul Strength surged. [Elias Rhowan] [Soul Strength: 148 → 154] A temporary overload. A heroic flare learned at the cost of dozens of training collapses. He struck again. This time, the light slipped between two scales. A thin line of dark blood appeared. Lyséa blinked.

"Good." Her tail swept across the avenue. Jonah stepped in front of it. The impact was monstrous. His shield cracked instantly. His boots dug two trenches into the ground. His arms screamed under the blow, but he held for one second. Only one. Enough for Mira to shout, "Now!" Soren appeared at Lyséa's left wing. He drove two daggers into the joint, then dropped away before the scales could close over him. Garron cast a runic chain around one claw. Nahr sprang from the shadow of a statue and struck her rear leg.

His claws sank deeper through the scales than expected. Lyséa slowly turned her massive head toward him. Under his hood, the young beastman did not retreat. For an instant, something passed through the dragon queen's gaze. Recognition? No. Curiosity. Then she raised her paw. Nahr barely dodged. The ground exploded where he had been standing. Lena sent a thread of light toward Jonah.

"Hold a little longer!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" he growled through clenched teeth. Lyséa's tail came again. This time, Jonah did not block. He pivoted, let the mass pass over his shoulder, and Mira activated one of the circles carved into his shield. The tail was deflected by the slightest angle. Not enough to stop Lyséa. Enough to expose her. Elias leapt. His golden blade came down on the same wound in her neck. Ivara finished her incantation.

"By the buried cycles, let the dragon's name weigh heavier than its wing." Lyséa's wings shuddered. An invisible pressure forced them lower for one second. Lyséa turned her eyes toward Ivara.

"You read texts your kingdom would have burned with you inside them." Ivara went pale. But she did not stop.

"I decided to become useful before becoming pure." Lyséa gave a draconic smile.

"That is almost a demonic sentence." Then she roared. This time, it was a real attack. The roar struck the soul. Barriers shattered. Black roses were ripped from the ground. Mira dropped to her knees, blood running from her ears. Lena clenched her hands so hard her nails bit into her skin. Elias was hurled backward and rolled several meters. Mira's system crackled in the air. [Lyséa — Estimated Soul Strength: 268.] Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

[Human raid — synchronization unstable.] Garron spat blood.

"She's dismantling us by breathing." Soren staggered back to his feet.

"Technically, she roared. That's more humiliating." Jonah wiped the blood under his nose.

"Shut up and move." Lyséa stepped forward. A single step. The whole garden seemed to bow.

"You are stronger than the heroes sent too early," she said.

"More disciplined. Better prepared. Less naive." Her draconic eyes swept over the group.

"But you still carry a strange scent." Elias got back up.

"What scent?"

"Delay." The word struck harder than the roar. Lena tightened her grip on her staff.

"We're not too late." Lyséa lowered her head toward her.

"Little healer, you have been too late since the summoning circle." For a fraction of a second, silence fell. Jonah shouted, "Don't listen to her!" But it was already too late. The sentence had landed. Elias felt his throat tighten. Since the circle. Since Zayn. Since the first day. Mira, despite the blood on her face, raised her scepter again.

"She's trying to break the mental formation." Lyséa smiled.

"I'm trying to see whether your hope holds when it stops being comfortable." Elias inhaled. Then raised his sword.

"Lena. Plan three." Lena stared at him.

"Elias—""Plan three." She understood. Her face turned even paler. Then she nodded. The light around the group changed. Until now, Lena had healed. Now, she bound. Golden threads shot from her hands and sank into each of their backs: Elias, Jonah, Mira, Soren, Garron, Ivara, Nahr. All of them felt the pain at once. Not equally. But together. Elias's breathing steadied. Jonah tightened his shield. Mira raised her analysis circles. Soren smiled faintly.

"Ah. The plan where we share the suffering. My favorite." Garron grunted, "I should've charged more." Nahr said nothing. But his claws lengthened. Lyséa studied Lena's threads.

"You bind your wounds so you do not collapse separately." Elias placed his sword in front of him.

"Yes."

"That is dangerous."

"Yes."

"If one falls too hard, the others are pulled down with them."

"We know." Lyséa narrowed her eyes.

"Then come." They attacked together. Not in a line. In a circle. Mira opened marks on the weak points she had identified. Ivara reinforced the marks with ancient words. Jonah forced Lyséa to turn her head. Garron deliberately sacrificed part of his armor to trap one claw in a metal snare. Soren struck at her left eye, not to blind her, but to force her to blink. Nahr slipped beneath her belly. His claws struck three times. Fast. Precise. Too personal. Lyséa felt the hatred in those blows. Not aimed at her.

Aimed through her. She wondered, briefly, who had broken that child. Then Elias came. His sword burned with denser light than ever before. [Elias Rhowan] [Soul Strength: 154 → 161] He struck the wound in her neck. This time, the scale gave way. Lyséa's blood fell onto the black roses. A cry ran through the domain. The dragon queen stepped back. The whole group felt the impact of her wound through Lena's link. An opening. Small. But real. Mira shouted, "Second angle! Right wing!" Soren was already moving.

Lyséa answered. Her vast body turned with impossible speed. Her claw tore through Garron's traps as if they were paper. She struck the mercenary full in the chest. His armor burst apart. Garron was thrown into a dragon statue. Lena's link transmitted part of the blow to the whole group. כולם staggered. Lena cried out.

"Garron!" He did not answer immediately. Then one hand moved.

"Not dead..." He spat blood.

"Very angry... but not dead." Lyséa spread her wings. The night seemed to drop lower.

"You have wounded my royal form. That is more than many demons would have done." Elias was breathing hard.

"Then fall." Lyséa looked at him. For a long moment. Then she said, "Not yet." She released her true pressure. The full weight of her 268 Soul Strength crashed down on them without restraint. Lena's threads pulled taut to the point of almost snapping. Elias felt his heart slow. Jonah dropped to one knee. Mira bled from her eyes. Ivara lost half her incantation. Soren drove his daggers into the ground just to keep from being crushed. Nahr remained standing. Barely. But standing.

Under his hood, his teeth were clenched hard enough to crack. Lyséa looked at him again.

"You too refuse to fall for a reason that no longer has much to do with me." Nahr answered in a low voice, "I have to kill the monster who took everything." Lyséa fell silent. Then she murmured, "Poor child." He lunged. Too early. Too alone. Lyséa raised a claw. Elias saw death coming. He threw his sword. Not at Lyséa. At Nahr. The luminous blade passed in front of him, forcing the young beastman to alter his leap. Lyséa's claw only tore his shoulder instead of crushing him.

Nahr rolled across the ground with a grunt of pain. He turned a furious look on Elias.

"Why?" Elias recalled his sword with magic.

"Because we don't win alone." Nahr did not answer. But something trembled under his hood. Lyséa watched Elias.

"There. That was heroic." She struck. Elias blocked. His sword cracked. The force ran through his arms. Lena's link screamed. The whole group took part of the impact. But Elias stayed standing. He looked up at the dragon.

"Maybe we don't know everything." His voice shook.

"Maybe we are too late." The light of his sword rose higher.

"But if you are the Demon King, then we stop you here." Lyséa did not correct him. Not yet. She wanted to see how far they would go with that mistake. Elias gathered all his strength into his blade. Jonah positioned himself behind him, pushing his shield against Elias's back to anchor him. Lena reinforced their bodies. Mira drew a perfect circle under Elias's feet. Ivara sacrificed three pages of her forbidden book, which burned into blue ash. Soren cast his daggers into the two open wounds.

Garron, half-standing, activated what remained of his traps. Nahr, wounded, leapt into the blind spot. All of their Soul Strength synchronized. Not added. Tuned. Mira's system opened in a scream of light. [Heroic formation: convergence.] [Estimated impact force: Demon General threshold temporarily reached.] Lyséa opened her eyes wide.

"Ah." For the first time, she did not seem merely indulgent. She seemed interested. Elias struck. The light split the garden. It hit Lyséa's neck, where the wounds had layered over one another. Nahr struck from below at the same moment. Soren pulled his daggers. Mira locked the angle. Ivara spoke the final word. Lena screamed to keep their bodies from coming apart. Elias's blade went in. Not deep. Enough. Lyséa roared. Her right wing collapsed to one side. Her neck bled.

Her massive head slammed into the ground, tearing up black roses and shattering three ancient statues. The impact threw up a wave of dust and petals. The human group almost collapsed at once. Elias dropped to his knees. Jonah vomited blood. Lena half-fainted but stayed conscious through sheer will. Mira was shaking so badly she could no longer hold her scepter. Soren had lost one dagger and part of his smile. Garron was laughing nervously because he was in too much pain to do anything else.

Ivara stared at her burned pages as though she had just lost part of herself. Nahr remained standing. Then he fell too, one knee on the ground, one hand clutching his torn shoulder. For several seconds, no one moved. Then Elias lifted his head. Lyséa was on the ground. Her royal dragon form was still breathing, but with difficulty. He felt something give way inside him. Not joy. An almost impossible relief.

"We got her..." Jonah, gasping, murmured, "Did... did we do it?" Mira looked at the trembling figures before her.

"Her strength is dropping... she... she's below combat threshold." Lena opened her eyes.

"Then it's over?" The dragon queen opened one eye. Then she laughed. A deep laugh. Ancient. Not humiliated. Not defeated the way they expected. She laughed like someone who had just watched a tragedy performed beautifully by actors who still did not know the title of the play. Elias froze.

"Why are you laughing?" Lyséa slowly returned to human form. Her body appeared amid the black petals, wounded, pale, a line of blood at the corner of her lips. She remained seated on the ground, one hand against her neck. Still beautiful. Still terrifying. But beaten. She looked at the heroes. Then she smiled.

"Because you truly thought I was the Demon King." The silence that followed was worse than any roar. Jonah went pale.

"What?" Ivara closed her eyes. As though part of her had already understood. Elias stood up with difficulty.

"You're the strongest one still standing. The Throne beat. You are—""A General," Lyséa answered. She laughed again, more softly.

"A subordinate, now." Lena whispered, "Subordinate... to who?" Lyséa lifted her eyes toward the west. Her smile turned almost sad.

"To someone who stands higher than I do." Elias felt his heart tighten. No. He knew before she said it. But he did not want to. Not yet. Lyséa spoke the name with cruel clarity.

"Zayn Veylor." The world seemed to collapse around them. Lena pressed a hand to her mouth. Jonah stepped back. Mira stood frozen, her scepter fallen into the black grass. Ivara murmured, "Then it was true..." Nahr stopped moving entirely. Under his hood, his breathing turned irregular. Elias looked at Lyséa as though she had driven a blade into something deeper than his body.

"Where is he?" Lyséa smiled.

"You missed him." Silence.

"While you were marching east to find the Demon King... he was crossing the sky west." She slowly turned her head.

"Toward your kingdom." Lena trembled.

"No..." Lyséa pressed one hand to the ground and rose with difficulty. Despite her wounds, no one dared attack her. She had ceased to be their main enemy. She had become the messenger of their failure.

"You came this far with hope," she said.

"You fought better than I expected. You wounded me. You even defeated me enough to remember it without shame." Her gaze passed over each of them.

"But the Demon King you were seeking was already no longer here." Elias gripped his cracked sword.

"Since when?" Lyséa answered, "Since the Throne recognized him." She paused.

"Since Zayn Veylor sat upon it." The name hung in the air. Zayn. Not the anomaly. Not the tainted human. Not the lost boy. Zayn Veylor. Demon King. Elias lowered his head. His fingers trembled around the hilt of his sword. All that effort. All that road. All that battle. And again. Again. They had arrived too late. Nahr abruptly got back to his feet.

"He's going to the humans?" Lyséa turned an ancient gaze toward him.

"Yes."

"Why?" She did not answer at once. Then she said, "To look the beginning of his story in the eyes." Elias felt cold enter his spine. The capital. Maelor. The institutions. Those who had decided. Those who had hidden things. Those who had let Zayn fall. He turned toward his group. Lena was pale, but already healing the worst injuries. Jonah's fists were clenched. Mira was muttering impossible calculations, as though a route could repair the irreparable. Soren was no longer smiling.

Garron looked west with the face of a man who knows no payment covers this kind of delay. Ivara stared at Lyséa as though every prophecy had just mocked her. Elias spoke in a broken voice.

"We go back." No one objected. Lyséa watched them rise, one by one. Then she added, "Heroes." Elias turned. The ancient queen smiled faintly.

"This time, do not mistake the monster." He did not answer. Because he was no longer sure he still had the right to. The human raid left the gardens of Velmour limping, exhausted, bloodied. They had come to kill the Demon King. They had defeated a dragon queen. And it meant nothing. Far to the west, Zayn Veylor was already approaching the human continent.