Chapter 49: Ronan's Will

Clove and Ike stood back to back, watching through their panting breaths as Maritza transformed to her next level in The Shroud system.

“What the hell just happened to her?” Clove asked. The more and more she saw of The Shroud, the less trusted it and its demonic aura.

Ike thrust his lance at one of the six remaining Order warriors, keeping the cloaked figure at bay.

“I’ve got no clue,” Ike said dismissively. “But it’s Maritza. We can trust her. Be glad she’s on our side.”

Clove let out a timid grunt, before using her dagger to parry a blow from yet another Order warrior. There were too many dead Seahorses to count, and as much as Clove thought she might be able to lead these warriors into battle, she was doubting if she would even make it out alive.

Above them, the sky shook as the dragon roared. Ronan was on its tail, his hair whipping in the wind, as it flew around. Ronan stabbed his Hellblade between the scales and climbed the spikes lining the base of the dragon’s tail.

“Ronan will take care of that,” Ike insisted.

Sparks flew off Maritza and Wallace’s swords as the two bashed their blades together so fast Clove couldn’t even keep track of their movements.

“And Maritza has Wallace,” Clove said.

There were still a few Seahorse Nightblades in fighting shape. None of them had expected for The Order of Thirteen to be as strong as they were.

“It’s not that the Butterflies are strong!” Clove shouted. “It’s that they are fast! Stand your ground and make yourself impenetrable at all angles.”

An Order warrior rushed to a Seahorse as smoke billowed out of her cloak.

The Seahorses stood his ground, bit his thumb, and exhaled deeply into it. Spikes of water rushed out from every single one of his pores, barring the Order warrior with scalding hot tips as powerful as fired arrows.

The Order Warrior dropped to her knees, pawing at her eyes as she screamed. Both sockets were a pinkish red, and both of her eyes burned out completely.

Quickly, another Seahorse came from behind, then chopped her head clean off with a swing of her lance.

Scindo rushed over next, froze the body and head, then stomped them both to dust.

“The other bodies are frozen!” Scindo yelled. “I’ll fight here with all of you! We will not lose this battle!”

Scindo coughed on his last word. The Butterflies had done a number to his back, and he could tell he was losing blood fast.

Ike was next to utilize the water barbs to bring an Order member down, and Clove took the burned warrior’s head off the second he faltered at Ike’s attack.

Smoke plumed from Ike and Clove’s markings. They were exhausted, but they knew they were on the edge of victory. They fought on with Scindo, and noticed too that Illia had joined Maritza in fighting Wallace.

Scindo smiled. He might die, but he would take the rest of the Butterflies with him.

Smoke from both sides of the Nightblades rose into Ronan’s eyes as he struggled to climb the dragon’s tail. He had tried head on attacks but the dragon had been immune to even his black flames, and he needed to find a weak spot.

The gust of wind from the dragon’s flapping wings brought tears to his eyes and even cut his cheeks like thin razors.

Still, he pushed forward, searching for a spot he may be able to cast his ace in the hole on. At the dragon’s scaly midsection, his sword could not even penetrate its hide. The Hellblade flowed bright as did Ronan’s veins, yet no matter how much he hacked at the dragon, he couldn’t break its skin, and he had run out of spikes to climb.

The dragon twisted in the air and Ronan lost his grip.

“Fall,” The Shroud said.

And Ronan obeyed without hesitance.

Both his arms spread wide as he began his descent to the ground, and the dragon quickly spun up in a spiral and opened its jaw towards him.

“Let it consume you!” The Shroud whispered.

Ronan didn’t fight the suggestion, and he closed his eyes as the dragon wrapped its mouth around him and chomped down.

But he activated his Mark of the Butterfly to excel himself away from the teeth and towards the back of the creature’s mouth. There, he stood in the dark, his sword etched into the dragon’s throat and holding him in position as wads of warm saliva buffeted his face and body.

Then, a light came from down the dragon’s throat, and he smiled as the dragon’s fire started to rise from its belly.

Ronan shoved his hand into the division his sword had made in the dragon’s fleshy throat, then held his sword outright.

“Come on!” he shouted at the dragon. “Do your worst!”

His Mark of the Serpent glowed brightly and burned his forearm.

The dragon’s fire grew closer and then exploded outwards.

But it came to a sharp halt as Ronan used the Hellblade as a conduit. He collected the fire as he had collected the heat in the sky the night Maritza had drowned.

Ronan’s eyes glowed a molten red, and he burst black flames out in every direction, and propelled himself through the division he was holding onto and out of the dragon’s head.

Ronan formed faded wings of black Essence, and watched as the gray dragon’s yellow eyes rolled into the back of its head, and it crashed to the ground, spewing pink brains onto the battlefield.

Ronan landed gently to the ground to see Ike and Clove holding each other up.

“That makes ten,” Clove huffed. “It’s just Alfred and Wallace left.”

Alfred stumbled in front of Ronan. Alfred pulled off his mask, and blood dripped down his tattered cloak.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to do this,” Alfred said. He pulled out a small metal weapon that Ronan immediately recognized. “Here’s a little gift, courtesy of The House of the Falcon.”

Even the enhanced speed of Butterfly magic couldn’t save the Nightblades from what happened next.

Alfred fired the Falcon’s gun at Clove, then at Ike, and the two dropped in a big bloody burst.

“No!” Ronan shouted.

But he too fell as a bullet struck him in the stomach.

With hazy eyes, Ronan watched on as Alfred turned and aimed towards Maritza.

Ronan grit his teeth, but the bullet fired at Maritza before he could even scream.