The Dragon lunged, jaws wide, its teeth glinting like freshly-forged blades. The air split open with a deafening snap—
But they stopped.
A howling tempest surged to life, a spiraling shield of wind erupting around Orion and Frieda. The wind wasn't natural—it shimmered with spectral green light, infused with ancient melodies. It sang with power, notes of a long-forgotten hymn echoing from the sky itself.
Divine. Sacred. Barbatos.
The Dragon reared back, its massive head shaking with disbelief.
"What... what is THIS?!" it snarled, its voice deep, guttural—like gravel grinding against bone. Its serpentine tongue flicked between rows of gleaming fangs. It snapped again, enraged—
Thak!
The barrier of wind flared, throwing its jaws backward again with a burst of divine force.
Frieda screamed, clutching Orion tightly. Her hands trembled violently as she pressed her face into his shoulder.
Orion stood stiff, heart slamming against his ribs. He could feel the divine current in the air.
This wasn't his doing.
This was someone else's will—older, wiser… and watching.
The Dragon growled, eyes glowing with malevolent light as its voice grew venomous.
"This is the work of Barbatos, isn't it…?" it hissed, tone dripping with disdain.
A wicked sneer spread across its monstrous face.
"Still hiding behind tricks and hymns, little god? You think a puff of holy wind can stop me?"
Then it shrieked, voice rising into a distorted crescendo of rage:
"YOU PATHETIC CELESTIAL WORM! I WILL GRIND YOUR NAME INTO THE DIRT AND FEAST ON YOUR DEVOTEES' BONES!"
But the winds said nothing.
No Archon descended.
No shining light from above.
Just the whisper of the gale…
and its unwavering defense.
The Dragon roared, wings exploding outward with terrifying force. The ground cracked beneath it. Trees were torn from their roots. The very sky darkened, twisting as if recoiling from its rage.
Orion's hair whipped wildly as he shielded Frieda with his body, squinting against the storm.
"Venti…" he whispered, clutching her tighter.
"Is this what you meant… when you said it would be watching me?"
The once-orderly ranks of knights had fallen into total chaos.
Soldiers scattered like leaves in a storm, many too paralyzed by fear to even scream.
"We're… sorry, Captain…" one of them gasped as he staggered back, blood dripping from his temple.
Those who could still stand began to retreat in panic.
Others crawled through the mud, dragging broken limbs behind them, weeping and praying.
Amid the chaos, Qinyue lay face-down in the dirt, his armor dented and scorched. His sword was still in hand, clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white—even in unconsciousness. His breath came in shallow, pained gasps. He had stood his ground until the very end.
And he wasn't alone.
All around him, other knights had collapsed—either from exhaustion, injury, or the sheer oppressive terror pouring from the Dragon's presence.
Above them, the divine wind howled—
caught in a war against ancient fury.
"You think if I can't harm you directly… that I have no way to indulge in this little game?" the Dragon sneered, its voice a venom-laced growl.
It scoffed, wings curling like smoke as it stepped forward.
"Just watch, Barbatos. I'll make them suffer so deeply… so profoundly… that even your immortal mind will be scarred for centuries."
The Dragon let out a guttural shriek and landed with an earth-shaking crash, its talons carving into the ground like hot knives through butter. The land quaked with each step as it stalked toward Orion and Frieda, hunger gleaming in its monstrous eyes.
Orion clutched Frieda tightly, arms wrapped around her as if shielding a flame from a storm. His breath was shallow. His gaze locked on the beast closing in.
The Dragon chuckled—a sound so deep and wicked it seemed to crawl beneath the skin.
"Oh… I see now," it cooed darkly. "I know exactly how to make you suffer."
Its eyes glowed a sickly teal, ancient power pulsing through them like a curse. Before Orion could react, Frieda's body went stiff. Her hand moved.
Her fingers wrapped around her sword.
Her knuckles turned white.
"Frieda? What are you—" Orion's voice cracked with confusion.
"What are you doing?"
She said nothing. Her gaze was blank. Her hands moved against her will.
"I will kill you," the Dragon hissed with satisfaction, "by the very hands that love you most."
Frieda drew her blade, her movements jerky, unnatural—like a puppet yanked by invisible strings. With one trembling thrust, she drove the blade forward—
Straight at Orion's heart.
But the wind surged again—
WHAM!
A burst of divine air snapped the strike away inches before it could pierce his chest.
Frieda gasped, eyes wide as if waking from a nightmare.
"AAAAAH!" she screamed in horror, dropping the sword. She buried her face in Orion's chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
"I didn't mean to—I swear—I didn't mean to do that…!"
"I know," Orion whispered gently, cradling her head, his fingers threading through her hair.
"I know, Frieda… It was that thing's doing."
He turned his gaze upward, eyes burning with fury.
The Dragon stood tall, its long, serpent-like body coiled and twitching, its dark veins pulsing with cursed energy.
"If it weren't for Barbatos' protection…" Orion muttered through clenched teeth,
"…I'd already be bleeding out in her arms."
The Dragon clicked its tongue, a sound like a dagger tapping bone.
"This is getting... tiresome," it muttered.
"Let's try something new."
It lifted one claw lazily—almost playfully.
The air shifted.
And the wind, once sacred and protective, twisted with corrupted intent.
Frieda let out a gasp as invisible forces slammed into her from all directions.
She was lifted—arms spread, feet dangling inches off the ground—
pinned by the very element that had once shielded her.
Anemo itself betrayed her.
"No—!" she choked out, eyes wide, struggling with every ounce of strength.
But the air held her like iron.
Then came the second movement.
The Dragon raised another claw.
And Orion froze.
His limbs began to twitch—small at first. A finger. Then a hand. Then the slow, terrifying pull of his body moving without consent.
His knees locked.
His back straightened.
His right hand dropped slowly, reaching for something on the ground.
The hilt of Frieda's fallen sword.
"No," he whispered.
His hand touched it.
"No, no no no…"
His fingers closed around the hilt.
The steel was cold.
Too real.
The Dragon spoke softly, like a lullaby made of thorns.
"If this fails… then I'll simply bring you both to His Majesty. He'll unravel Barbatos' little enchantment himself."
The sword rose.
Orion's eyes widened with pure panic.
His arms were trembling, but they moved with precise obedience—not to him, but to it.
"What are you making me do?!" he screamed, his voice cracking.
"STOP IT!"
Tears welled in his eyes as the blade lifted, shaking in his grip.
The tip pointed straight at Frieda.
His body stepped forward.
One.
Two.
Three paces.
He screamed again. Louder this time.
"DON'T MAKE ME DO THIS!!"
His knees buckled mid-step.
But he couldn't stop.
His foot landed.
Then the next.
Then the next.
Frieda watched, her mouth trembling.
Her eyes were locked with his.
She saw everything—his fear, his agony, the horror swallowing him whole.
"YOU BASTARD!!" she screamed.
"STOP MANIPULATING HIM! ORION—FIGHT IT!"
She thrashed violently in the air, hair flying wildly around her—but she couldn't move a single inch.
The Dragon tilted its head and let out a laugh.
Deep. Guttural.
Wicked.
It echoed like thunder rolling over a battlefield of corpses.
"HAHAHAHAHA! Oh, this is delicious!"
It inhaled deeply through its nose, as if savoring the scent of their suffering.
"Ahhh… the smell of love ruined. Now this is my kind of symphony."
Orion's feet stopped.
He was only a few steps away.
His arms raised the sword.
His fingers clenched tighter.
His lips trembled as he whispered:
"…please… stop…"
Then—
His arms swung.
Steel met flesh.
Sssshhhk—
A red line bloomed across Frieda's chest.
She gasped—mouth open, but no sound.
A bloom of crimson burst forth, misting into the air.
Time shattered.
The spell broke.
Orion's control snapped back like a whip.
His eyes lost their glassy haze.
He dropped the sword.
He caught her.
"Frieda…?"
His voice cracked.
She fell into his arms.
Warm.
Soft.
Bleeding.
"Frieda… no… no no no—Frieda—please—"
She coughed, blood trailing from the side of her mouth as her body shivered in his grasp.
Her eyes fluttered, barely able to stay open.
Orion shook.
He wrapped both arms around her tightly, as if he could press the wound closed just by holding her hard enough.
Above them, the Dragon hovered, eyes gleaming.
"I knew it," it said with delighted cruelty.
"Barbatos' shield was never for her. Just for you."
It laughed again.
Long. Loud.
Monstrous.