Promise of violence

Amidst the chaos of the city's devastation, a young girl, no older than seven or eight, dashed through the streets, her tiny frame jostled by the panicked crowd. People pushed past her, desperate to escape the nightmare unfurling above them. No one spared her a glance; no one reached out to help. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to keep pace with the fleeing masses, but her small legs faltered. A stray piece of debris caught her foot, and she tumbled forward, hitting the cold stone with a painful thud.

She tried to scramble back to her feet, but the press of bodies shoved her down again. Terror gripped her chest as she lay there, trampled beneath uncaring feet, her cries swallowed by the cacophony of screams and destruction. Above her, a monstrous roar split the air. A bone-chilling sound that vibrated through her very bones. She turned her tear-filled eyes skyward, and her breath hitched at the sight of the wyvern.

The beast's massive wings beat the air in slow, deliberate strokes, sending powerful gusts rippling through the streets. Its gleaming obsidian scales reflected the infernal glow of the fires raging across the city. The wyvern's maw opened, revealing rows of dagger-like teeth, and within its throat, a deadly glow began to build—a firestorm ready to be unleashed upon the helpless below.

The girl whimpered, curling into herself, bracing for the inevitable. Heat surged through the air, the flames rushing toward her, when suddenly, the temperature around her dropped sharply. Instead of searing pain, she was enveloped in a freezing cocoon. She cracked her eyes open and gasped.

A shimmering dome of ice encased her, gleaming with an ethereal blue glow. Frost spread along its surface, its beauty surreal against the backdrop of destruction. Outside, the wyvern's inferno collided with the barrier, sending a shower of fiery sparks and ice shards into the air. The frozen shield held, protecting the girl from certain death.

Shivering, she reached out a trembling hand toward the icy wall, but before she could touch it, a deep fracture split the dome's surface. Cracks spread rapidly, spiderwebbing outward, and with a deafening crack, the entire barrier shattered, collapsing into a cascade of shimmering shards. The protective ice was gone, leaving her vulnerable once more.

What lay before her was a vision of hell.

The street, once bustling with life, was now a wasteland of charred bodies and smoldering ruins. The acrid scent of burnt flesh clogged her nose, making her gag. She turned away, heaving, her small body trembling with shock and grief. Tears blurred her vision as she tried to comprehend the horror before her.

Then, a gust of cold wind swept through the street, carrying with it an unnatural stillness. The girl shuddered and looked up. Where fire had raged, ice now reigned. A thick layer of frost coated the ground, creeping over corpses and halting their fiery demise. The dead, once grotesquely contorted in agony, were now encased in crystalline tombs, their suffering frozen in time. The scene was eerily beautiful—an ethereal memorial to the fallen.

And amidst the frozen landscape, a figure emerged.

A tall man, cloaked in deep red, moved through the ice with an air of unshaken composure. His presence was an enigma, a stark contrast against the devastation. The girl blinked, trying to clear her vision, but before she could process what she was seeing, the figure vanished, as though he had never been there at all.

Above, the wyvern circled the city, its fury undiminished. It loosed another roar, bathing the streets in flame. Buildings crumbled under the assault, stone and timber collapsing like brittle twigs. The beast reveled in its destruction, wings casting long, menacing shadows over the desolation, opening his mouth to send out yet another of his flamy breath.

Then, without warning, a shard of ice shot through the sky, striking the wyvern's open maw. The impact froze its jaws shut, failing its attempt of fire breath. The beast jerked back in shocked agony. It thrashed violently, trying to dislodge the frozen obstruction, its muffled roars of rage shaking the heavens.

From the icy ruins, the mysterious figure reappeared.

He stood at the heart of the destruction, his red cloak billowing in the wind. A white mask obscured his face, adorned with golden-red filigree, lending him an air of arrogant detachment. The surrounding went silent as the man calmly raised his hand. The air around him crackled, and in his grasp, an icy spear materialized, glistening with lethal precision.

The wyvern's enraged eyes locked onto him, recognizing the true threat before it.

**Orion had come to face the beast.**

---

Orion had been watching from the shadows, silent and calculating. He had no intention of intervening—not at first. The wyvern was no mere beast; it was called the Duke for a reason, and Orion knew better than to pick a fight with something whose victory was not guaranteed. He was a hunter, not a fool.

But then he overheard the guards' frantic whispers—reinforcements were coming, but they needed time. And the wyvern, in its blind rage, could raze the city long before help arrived.

Orion sighed, rolling his shoulders. **He supposed he could buy them a few minutes.**

Now, as he stood before the furious wyvern, he tightened his grip on his ice spear. He had grown fond of this city, its stubborn resilience. And though he was not one for sentimentality, he couldn't simply stand by and watch the first human settlement he had ever visited be reduced to ash.

"On my very first visit no less." Orion sighed at his cursed luck.

The wyvern, furious at the frozen obstruction in its mouth, unleashed another inferno, melting away the ice. Free once more, it turned its full wrath upon Orion, eyes burning with murderous intent.

Yet Orion remained unmoved. He met the beast's gaze with an unshaken stare, his stance unwavering.

The air between them thickened, charged with promise of violence.

The wyvern roared, shaking the ruins with its fury. Orion exhaled, his breath forming a mist in the frigid air. With a flick of his wrist, another ice spear materialized in his grasp, gleaming in the firelight.

He was no fool. He knew that in terms of sheer power, he was no match for the wyvern. But raw strength was not the only path to victory. He had hunted creatures mightier than this before. He had never lost.

With measured calm, he leveled his spear at the beast.

The wyvern, sensing his challenge, let out an earsplitting roar and lunged, its massive body hurtling toward him with terrifying speed.

Orion smirked beneath his mask.

He had provoked it.

And it had taken the bait.