The scarlet dragon surged into the air. An oily black haze followed her motion, spreading into a thin cloud, like mist saddled under claw and scale.

She coiled within that fog like a river serpent in reeds. Her regal head lifted high; slit pupils blazed. The killing intent spilled like ink. Little White Dragon swallowed, throat tight as frost. The pressure in her chest rivaled her duel with the Demon King. She had to be careful—careful as walking a blade over deep water.

Beside her, Nidhogg never blinked. The hulking Black Dragon snorted a breath as cold as cavern ice, steeped in shadow. Her whole bulk said one thing to that thing above: I don’t like you.

None of them moved. Not the roaming demon-drake, not Lilith, not Nidhogg poised like a sprung trap. Three dragons, one eerie balance, the silence stretched like a bowstring.

The drake broke first. Its massive head snapped up. The black greatsword clenched in its jaws cut the quiet like thunder. Dim hellflame crawled along the blade, then flared, a dark comet cleaving straight for Little White Dragon.

Nidhogg threw back her head and roared. A thick dragon-breath erupted upward, colliding with the drake’s bite. The black blade wedged into the surging breath like an axe stuck in firewood. It ground, then stalled.

Seeing that wouldn’t cut it, the drake abandoned the sword. Jaws sprang open. It slid its python-long body back into its own black fog, vanishing like a wolf into brush, ready to strike when the wind turned.

Lilith watched that fog coil tight around the drake. Her gut told her it was bad medicine. Until she knew what it did, she wouldn’t rush in. Mona and Vera shimmered into being at her flanks. While the drake circled above, their phantom bow and staff drew a beaded sight on it.

Round two began with Nidhogg. The Black Dragon launched like a catapult shot. Her jaws gaped for the drake’s body.

The drake slipped down in a whoosh, slick as a loach. It skimmed past Nidhogg’s ribs and flicked a whipcord tail. The crack slammed Nidhogg into the wall. The whole chamber shuddered like a drum. The drake rolled, dipped, and skimmed the floor, snatching up the black sword it had lost in the clash.

The scarlet dragon took the blade in her jaws again and twisted a circle under the ceiling. Black devil-flame sheathed the broad steel. Head high, it dove for Lilith.

The impact hit like a falling bell. The blade smashed the ground. Little White Dragon flipped and cleared the first shock. The little Hero hopped back, Holy Blade in hand, and snatched a round stone at her feet. One quick cut turned it into a flat slab.

The drake stooped again, a storm of muscle and scale. It thundered down on the small white figure. The black edge rose, sure it would reap her this time.

Lilith didn’t dodge. She lifted the stone slab. Right as the dragon’s snout filled her vision, she flicked her wrist.

The great beast snapped backward as if slapped by a wave. The slab shattered into gravel in her hands. Lilith rode the recoil, two backflips in the air. Vera landed in sync behind her like a shadow. Little White Dragon planted both palms, kicked into a flawless backflip, and flowed straight into a shot mid-spin.

The crimson arrow slid true into the wound Nidhogg had left. The drake growled, low and furious, and clawed skyward to finish Lilith with another cleave.

This time it met a tide—missiles and rain.

Vera didn’t loose many arrows; calling it rain was generous. But Mona’s spell-bolts came like a monsoon. Crimson shots drummed the drake’s rope-long body. Too weak to punch through, they skated scales and left pale scratches. But they slowed its surge. That was enough for the real strike to find a vital.

A thick crimson great-arrow split the wet cavern air. It screamed faster than thunder. It drove straight into the drake’s open eye socket. Holy Light rode the shaft. Even without all the Saint’s strength, Vera’s shot pierced the skull. It drilled a hole clean through the head.

The drake shrieked in midair, a sound like metal torn. Its long body writhed like a serpent that had set itself on fire. It thrashed the floor, tried to smother the blaze, and only fed it. It knotted up, lost all dignity, and died—

Except dragons aren’t snakes.

Even with one eye and half its brain punched through, the thing did not die. It howled, twisted, and hung there in ruin. Even Nidhogg, crawling from the wall, blinked once and hesitated. Still the drake lived.

It opened its jaws and spat out the black sword. Dark flame climbed its wild mane, a cold blaze that made the air curdle. Sharp bone spines pushed up along its glossy back. Sickly crimson clots wrapped those spurs like barnacles. Black veins burst from the clots and spread, webbing its whole body. They covered every wound Nidhogg had carved.

Under the glow of that abyssal flame, the veins pulsed with a red, nauseous light. They twitched out of rhythm, obscene as worms. The proud evil dragon turned into a crawling monstrosity.

“Phase two. Finally showing your real face.” Lilith wiped the sweat from her brow. The little Hero lifted the Holy Blade again. The sword-shaped sigil on the back of her right hand blazed. The once-dim Holy Blade answered with a pale blue glow.

Little White Dragon’s golden pupils widened. The Saint’s seal on her forehead clamped down on the drake’s black miasma. Bathed in holy light, the Hero drew out the Holy Blade’s true edge. The real fight was just beginning.

“Who says you’re the only one with a phase two?!” Little White Dragon shouted, thrilled and fierce. Nidhogg’s massive body surged up. Her long tail snapped Lilith off the ground like a whip.

Lilith set her posture midair. Mona and Vera flowed back into her body like breath returning to lungs. In their place, a colossal hawk spread its wings under the not-so-high ceiling. The hawk heaved Lilith and let go. She caught a second burst of speed in the air, lifted the Holy Blade, and cut for the drake.

The demon-drake roared. Two dark-violet chains appeared out of nothing and caught the Holy Blade with a clang. Lilith’s face tightened. She used the recoil, planted a foot on chain, and vaulted again. Two more chains stabbed through where she’d been a blink before. If she hadn’t moved, she’d be kebab by now.

She grabbed the hawk’s talons and let the great bird yank her past the next chain. Then another hissed by, clipping her hem. The barrage wouldn’t let up. She couldn’t get closer; she had to give ground. For a moment, she could only dodge and endure.

Seeing her pinned, Nidhogg roared in anger and hurled her bulk like a siege round. She slammed into the drake head-on.

The demon-drake reacted fast. Chains wove into a net and ate most of the blow. Then the net vanished, and its jaws belched dragon-breath thick with miasma, eager to splash Nidhogg in the face.

The Black Dragon didn’t flinch. She opened wide and breathed back. Black darkflame met crimson miasma. The two torrents wrestled, claw for claw. Both dragons poured out everything stored in their chests.

The recoil split them apart. The demon-drake smashed into the ceiling. Stone boomed and dented inward. The long, slim body embedded halfway like a spear in timber.

Nidhogg didn’t fare much better. The floor under her sank dozens of meters. Flat stone became a basin cratered by force.

Both dragons cut their breaths in the same heartbeat. The demon-drake twisted free with a crack of stone and fell like a meteor toward Nidhogg. The Black Dragon kicked with both hind claws, tore two slabs the size of houses from the floor, and hurled them like black cannonballs.

Nidhogg raised her iron-tough right claw. The demon-drake’s tail whipped to meet it. The shock made the air pop, a sonic boom that blasted rubble across the chamber.

The demon-drake lunged and clamped its jaws on Nidhogg’s right shoulder. The Black Dragon howled and wrenched it off with both foreclaws. No time for pain. She sank her claws deep into the drake’s flesh, hooked its spine, grabbed its tail, and rag-dolled it across the room.

The demon-drake saw stars, beaten like a wet rag. Snarling, it summoned two chains and did the ruthless math. It severed its own tail and tore free of Nidhogg’s grip. Nidhogg’s claws stayed buried in the severed tail. She couldn’t shake it loose fast enough.

The demon-drake took its chance. It vaulted and bit Nidhogg’s throat.

A dragon’s scales cover everything, but some spots are thin. It found the softest part. Its teeth ripped through hide. Blood fountained, and scarlet rained across the stone.

Nidhogg screamed and thrashed, desperate to fling it off. The demon-drake locked down like a vise. No give. No mercy.

“Don’t move!” Lilith’s voice snapped by Nidhogg’s ear. Obedience beat panic. The Black Dragon froze and swallowed the pain.

A white figure dropped from above. Lilith gripped the Holy Blade with both hands and drove it down into the last half of the drake’s intact skull.

The demon-drake shrieked and unlatched. Lilith pressed harder, both hands tight, forcing steel down like a stake. On the brink of death, the drake panicked and rolled. It flipped and body-slammed the floor, hoping to crush Lilith flat on its back.

The Knight-Captain appeared in time, shield first, and covered Little White Dragon. He saved her from getting turned into Lilith paste.

Lilith didn’t let go, even as the demon dragon thrashed like a storm-tossed beast.

She rammed the Holy Blade into its skull, then churned the half-shattered brain like a dark whirlpool.

With its nerves ruined, the sky-serpent spasmed in a final reflex.

Then it slammed to earth like a falling cliff and went still.

Spent and scorched, Lilith wrenched the Holy Blade from bone and rolled off the carcass.

Black magic fire crawled over the Little White Dragon like hungry ivy, nearly burning her clothes to ash.

Chains had punched through her shoulders; an inch higher or lower and she’d be in hell with it.

Her stamina was dust; the Hero’s power she’d just regained had bled away again.

If not for a sliver of the Saint’s grace, the magic-flame burns alone would’ve carried her off.

Numb and shaking, she lifted a hand to her brow.

A gentle holy radiance bloomed, and wounds knit like frost retreating at dawn.

Scorch marks faded; color returned to her face like spring after a long winter.

She felt herself dragged back from the gate of ghosts.

She was about to finally breathe when the crimson miasma coiled on the demon dragon erupted.

It rushed headlong into her right hand like a flood breaking a dam.

The Holy Blade that had followed the Little White Dragon for years didn’t last a heartbeat; it powdered to dust.

Before thought could form, a pain that could tear a soul burst through her heart.

Her vision went black on the spot.

The Little White Dragon collapsed and passed out.