Chapter 20: The Holy Sword and the Bloodline Legacy
The sky split with violet lightning as Grand Duke Theral stood amidst the ruins of the battlefield. Blood stained his purple cloak, yet his body remained upright, barely wounded. A dark aura enveloped him—not demonic in nature, but something older, forgotten: the Black Dragon Blood of Zarnok, an ancient inheritance from the eastern continent.
The demon army led by the remnants of General Baal halted. Mor'grath, the Soul Butcher, stared at Theral with glowing eyes.
"That is not human power... That is the kind of strength that can kill us."
Even the mighty Zaar'Thurel paused.
"If that power grows any further, even I would have to retreat."
Grand Duke Theral's eyes turned into scaled yellow slits. He spread his arms wide, and from his back, dark wings emerged. A magical echo boomed as he spoke,
"Today... there will be no mercy."
But amidst the chaos, a white beam sliced the sky. The Holy Sword appeared—wielded by a tall young man with silver hair and sapphire-blue eyes. He was Archduke Tristan von Ari, Nanea's secret lover, who had arrived with the holy forces of the Ari Empire.
"In the name of the Empire and our sacred ancestors, I bring the blood pact of House Ari to aid the Kingdom of Phillipe!" Tristan proclaimed, his sword blazing with light, the very antithesis of Theral's dragon aura.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, Xebec—wounded but unbowed—raised his sword, now fused with ancestral power. He looked from Theral and Duke Malefic standing amidst the darkness, then to Archduke Tristan.
"Is this… a sign of the end times, or the beginning of a new world?" he whispered.
Nanea stood behind Tristan, her face resolute, eyes fixed on Xebec. She had made her choice.
The greatest battle had not yet ended.
And history was still being written.
---
The roar of war echoed, shaking the earth as two great forces clashed: the demon army under General Baal, Grand Duke Theral wielding his black dragon power, and the holy legions of the Ari Empire led by Archduke Tristan—alongside the kingdom's heir, Xebec von Phillipe.
Amidst the burning battlefield, Xebec spun his sword, cloaked in ancestral aura. The blue flame of the Soulfire blazed around him. He leapt into the fray, clashing with Duke Malefic under a rain of dark magic and shattered earth. His blade sliced through the night, breaking Malefic's demonic defenses and sending him flying.
But all eyes turned toward the center of the field.
Grand Duke Theral roared. From his body, the full wings of a black dragon unfurled. His veins glowed purple, claws gouging the ground and creating a crater. He absorbed demonic energy from the soil, then turned to Baal's generals with a chilling grin.
"I am no longer human... I am the descendant of ancient dragons. I am more than a demon... I am destruction itself."
Vel'Sethar stepped back.
"If he loses control, we all perish."
Mor'grath raised his soul scythe.
"He must not be allowed to live."
But before they could act, Tristan shot forward, his holy sword tearing through the air and slashing Theral's wing. An explosion of holy light erupted, forcing the Grand Duke to scream in pain—for the first time.
Black dragon blood spilled onto the earth, burning the grass.
Tristan shouted,
"Theral, you have betrayed mankind! By the light of the sacred ancestors, I will end this cursed legacy!"
Xebec leapt beside Tristan. The aura of the Final Light Slash began to form—the deadliest technique passed down by his ancestors.
But Theral laughed, blood trailing from his lips.
"You forgot one thing. I am not alone."
From the dark mist, the towering figure of Zaar'Thurel—the fourth general of Baal—raised his hand, opening a faint Doomsday Gate. Apocalypse winds surged, turning the sky black. But just as the gate fully opened...
...Xebec ignited his Spirit Clarity Aura. White light sanctified the battlefield.
Tristan struck from the right. Nanea, atop the walls, activated her mother's sacred crystal. Duke Malefic was struck by the wave of light, shrieking in panic.
In a perfect moment, Xebec unleashed the Final Light Slash.
Time seemed to stop.
A single beam of light tore through Theral's body and struck the Doomsday Gate. An explosion followed, engulfing the sky in white light.
When the dust settled...
Theral knelt, part of his body destroyed, yet smiling.
"You… truly are the heir of Phillipe..."
Then his body crumbled into ash.
Xebec collapsed to his knees.
The battle was over. But the cost was great.
Atop the tower, Nanea whispered softly,
"Father... now you can rest."
And far across the sky, the Ari Empire raised their sacred banner—the sign of the final resistance against the demons.
---
The sky, still red from Grand Duke Theral's fall, had no time to clear when darkness rolled back in—thicker, colder... older.
Duke Malefic stood in the battlefield's rubble, his body cloaked in deep shadows laced with crimson veins. The light of the holy swords from Ari's knights could no longer pierce the black mist. Behind him, Baal's generals stumbled. Even Zaar'Thurel—the Endbringer—narrowed his eyes cautiously.
"You… used that power?" Vel'Sethar hissed, his voice trembling. "That's the power sealed by angels... the Malefic Taboo."
Duke Malefic looked up, his black eyes now glowing a burning violet.
"The light has shamed my family for too long. It's time the shadows proved who survives at the end of the world."
With one gesture, he absorbed the light from the battlefield—even the holy magic within Tristan's body was sucked out. The Archduke coughed blood, his body trembling as the radiance within him was forcibly drained.
"What is this… my power... fading...?" Tristan gasped, knees buckling. "This… is no ordinary magic..."
Duke Malefic turned to Xebec.
"You, heir of Phillipe. You think you can stop me with light and ancient blood? Show me... can your legacy survive in the shadow?"
Xebec roared, staggering forward. But his foe was too fast. In an instant, black magic pierced his body. Burning energy exploded from within, searing his right side. Blood gushed, his armor melting from the inside out.
Yet Xebec stood.
"If light isn't enough… then I'll ignite something deeper… from my own blood."
But just as Duke Malefic moved to strike him down—the sky split.
A golden flash tore the clouds, and a massive shadow loomed over the battlefield: a primordial dragon, shimmering white-silver with blue streaks on its wings. Every beat of its wings carried waves of sacred wind—not ordinary light. Its voice echoed directly into the soul.
"My blood-child... hear the voice of your ancestor."
Xebec's eyes widened. The world fell silent. In the midst of his fading consciousness, he now stood in a glowing white void. Before him stood a long-robed figure—an old man with dragon eyes, wearing the first crown of Phillipe.
The Founder of the Kingdom of Phillipe. King Ardanox, the White Dragon King.
"Your blood is my blood, Xebec," Ardanox said, his aged voice echoing within. "Light has failed, but there is a power beyond light and darkness—Absolute Power, the primal source of the world, feared even by Baal."
Xebec trembled.
"Why appear only now…?"
"Because only when your soul bleeds and your heart refuses to bow to the dark—are you worthy of bearing this power."
Ardanox placed his claw on Xebec's chest. A burst of silver-white energy surged into his body.
---
Back in the real world.
Xebec opened his eyes. His wounds glowed, partially closing—but not fully healed. His body now radiated absolute energy—not light, not fire, not any element. But pure essence, without name.
Duke Malefic attacked.
But his power was absorbed and unraveled around Xebec. Not through magic, but through utter detachment from all laws of shadow and sorcery.
Xebec raised his ancestral blade—now transformed into a pure white sword, bearing a dragon emblem at its center.
"With dragon blood, with human legacy... I will end this."
Their clash erupted—and for the first time, Malefic's power cracked.
---
To be continued