Tiamat, enraged, unleashed her power. Her heads combined their elements, creating a sphere of chaos—fire, ice, lightning, poison, shadow—that pulverized part of the fortress, soldiers collapsing, their bodies melted or frozen.
Valzaroth, dodging by teleportation, growled: "You think you impress me?" He channeled all his power, his black lightning becoming a lance of pure energy, tearing through spacetime. He teleported above Tiamat, the lance slamming into her back, piercing her scales, blood gushing like a river. The fortress shook, the skies illuminated by a black light.
Tiamat, weakened, flapped her wings, attempting to fly. Valzaroth, relentless, teleported to her neck, his halberd slicing the tendons of a wing, the membrane tearing. She crashed, the ground cracking, her heads roaring. Seraphine dove, her sword piercing the lightning head's eye; Venelana summoned a cage of violet flames to immobilize another head; Ashka slashed the poison head's throat, blood flooding the ground.
Valzaroth, standing on Tiamat's back, summoned one final black bolt, an apocalyptic storm tearing through space. The energy struck the dragon's heart, her chest bursting open, bones pulverized, black blood pooling. Tiamat collapsed, her heads slumping, a final rattle echoing. Valzaroth, panting, planted his halberd in the ground, his triumphant laugh filling the air. "A god doesn't yield, dragon!"
The fortress, though battered, held firm. Seraphine, Venelana, and Ashka joined Valzaroth, their gazes mixing fatigue and admiration. "You're insane," Seraphine murmured, a smirk on her lips. Venelana, stroking his auburn hair, added: "But invincibly so." Ashka, her tails twitching, growled: "We got lucky." Valzaroth, his scarlet eyes gleaming, replied: "Lucky? This is how I win."
The smoking ruins of Nethervale bore witness to the titanic clash between Valzaroth, the Black Emperor of Desires, and Tiamat, the primordial dragon. The fortress, though standing, bore the scars of chaos: collapsed walls, charred towers, pools of black blood.
Valzaroth, panting over Tiamat's corpse, his halberd planted in the ground, laughed, his obsidian armor stained, his black hair matted with sweat, his scarlet eyes blazing with triumph. Seraphine, Venelana, and Ashka, exhausted but alive, surrounded him, their gazes oscillating between admiration and wariness. Yet, a chill ran through the air, and the ground trembled beneath their feet.
Tiamat, whom all believed dead, stirred. Her black scales shimmered, her colossal body dissolving into a storm of smoke and sparks. The five heads faded, and a human figure emerged. Tiamat, in her human form, was a woman of terrifying beauty: tall, slender, her alabaster skin glowing like the moon, her black hair streaked with multicolored highlights falling to her hips. Her eyes, a kaleidoscope of colors, burned with rage and cunning.
Draconic scale armor hugged her curves—round breasts, narrow waist, muscular thighs—and a shadowed cape billowed behind her. "You think you've defeated me, slave?" she taunted, her voice a chorus of five tones, vibrating with contempt. "This is only the beginning."
Before anyone could react, Tiamat beat invisible wings, a whirlwind of chaos enveloping her, and soared into the turbulent skies. Valzaroth, furious yet fascinated, gripped his halberd. "She's mine," he growled, his scarlet eyes fixed on the horizon. "No one touches this dragon."
Seraphine, wiping blood from her sword, protested: "Val, you're injured, and she's stronger than we thought. Let us come with you!" Venelana, her violet flames crackling, added: "It's suicide, even for you." Ashka, her tails twitching, growled: "She'll burn you to ashes."
Valzaroth chuckled, his ego intact. "You doubt your emperor?" he replied, his voice deep. "Tiamat is a challenge, not a threat. I'll break her… or make her mine." Ignoring their objections, he summoned a black bolt, the energy tearing through spacetime, and teleported, following Tiamat's trail.
The chase led Valzaroth through the desolate lands of the underworld, a journey fraught with danger and duels. Tiamat, cunning, left clues—burned villages, frozen lakes, poisoned forests—to provoke him.
Their first clash occurred in the Cinderfall Gorges, a canyon of lava and ash. Tiamat, in her human form, awaited him on a promontory, a shadow lance in hand. "You're persistent, incubus," she said, her kaleidoscopic eyes glinting. "But persistence isn't enough."
Valzaroth, his halberd crackling with black lightning, charged. "Talk less, dragon," he growled, teleporting behind her, his blade aiming for her throat. Tiamat dodged, her lance summoning a storm of flames, charring the ground. He teleported again, avoiding the inferno, his black bolts striking her armor, scales flying. She countered, a wave of ice freezing the air, but he sliced through the ice, blood spurting as he cut her arm. "Not bad," she admitted, a wild smile on her lips, before flying off, leaving a trail of poison.
Their second battle took place in the Sablemorne Plains, a desert of black dunes. Tiamat, summoning her lightning power, hurled electric arcs, pulverizing a dune. Valzaroth, laughing, responded with his black bolts, tearing through space to appear above her, his halberd slamming down. She parried, her claws slicing his torso, blood flowing. "You bleed prettily," she mocked, but her eyes betrayed a growing respect. He teleported, his bolts piercing her flank, black blood staining the sand. She escaped again, a laugh echoing: "You amuse me, slave!"
Each clash revealed their monstrous power. At the edge of the Kurogane Marshes, Tiamat combined her elements, a chaos sphere—fire, ice, poison—exploding, devastating the forest. Valzaroth, teleporting through the flames, sliced off a lock of her hair, his laugh provocative. "You're fast, dragon," he said, dodging a shadow blast. "But I'm more than a slave." She countered, her claws tearing off a piece of his armor, but her lips curved. "I'm starting to see that," she murmured, before flying off.
As the battles continued, a mutual admiration grew. Tiamat, fascinated by Valzaroth's black lightning, capable of defying time and space, acknowledged a worthy adversary. Valzaroth, impressed by Tiamat's versatility, saw in her a chaos rivaling his ambition. In a volcanic cavern, their final duel was more intimate. Tiamat, her shadowed cape torn, summoned a poison storm. Valzaroth, bare-chested, his muscles gleaming, teleported, his halberd grazing her cheek, a trickle of blood flowing. "You're a monster," he growled, but his eyes shone with admiration.
She laughed, her black hair flying, her breasts heaving under her armor. "And you, a god in the making," she replied, her claws brushing his torso, a gesture almost tender. They clashed again, their strikes less lethal, more calculated, like a dance. Valzaroth, teleporting, sliced her armor, exposing her shoulder, while she slashed his flank, their blood mingling on the ground. Exhausted, they stopped, panting, inches apart.
"Why keep fighting?" Tiamat asked, her voice a whisper, her kaleidoscopic eyes locked on his. "We could kill each other… or something else."
Valzaroth, a smirk on his lips, set down his halberd. "Something else?" he replied, his voice raspy. "I want to tame you, dragon." He extended a hand, a bold gesture.
Tiamat, after a silence, stepped back, her shadowed wings shimmering. "Not yet, emperor," she murmured, flying off. "But you've intrigued me." Valzaroth, alone, laughed, his black lightning crackling. The chase wasn't over, but a bond, forged in blood and admiration, had begun.