True might of draconic magic
Orion's heart pounded as he felt the overwhelming presence of Draconic magic twisting the surrounding mana, warping reality itself. He had only read brief accounts of such ancient power, but standing amidst its presence, he could feel its raw potency in the very air. The world seemed to hold its breath as the wyvern hovered above him, its massive wings barely moving, sustained instead by an unseen force—pure, condensed magic.
Then, with a deafening roar, the wyvern's gaze locked onto him, a predator assessing its prey. Flames coiled around its massive form like sentient wisps, dancing in anticipation of destruction. Orion's stomach clenched. He knew he was in for the fight of his life.
A subtle shift in the air alerted him—an unseen threat, fast and deadly. Acting on instinct, he encased himself within a dome of ice, the chill of its creation a stark contrast to the unbearable heat suffocating the battlefield. Yet, the moment his barrier took form, a fireball materialized inside, defying all reason.
"What—?" Orion barely had time to process it before he threw himself aside, the fireball exploding mere inches from his initial position. Heat seared across his exposed skin, pain flaring as he landed hard on the cobbled streets. He gritted his teeth, his mind racing.
How did it bypass my defenses? He had formed the ice dome in time, had ensured it was seamless. There should have been no way for the attack to breach it. Unless—
A second fireball erupted before him, impossibly close. His breath caught in his throat as he struggled to raise another shield. He wasn't going to make it—
The fireball struck.
Orion's hastily conjured ice shield shattered instantly, and a violent explosion sent him hurtling backward. He crashed into a crumbling stone wall, debris showering down around him as white-hot agony surged through his body. Smoke filled his lungs, the acrid scent of burning flesh mingling with the heat-scorched air.
Coughing, he forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly. His left arm was a mess—burned, bruised, and barely responsive. But he was alive. Barely.
His vision sharpened through the haze of pain and smoke. The wyvern wasn't just casting spells with absurd speed—it was summoning them directly in front of him, bypassing the natural flow of magic. It wasn't simply attacking; it was ensuring that he couldn't react in time.
A realization settled in his gut, cold and unwelcome. 'Is this the true might of Draconic magic?' He thought —this was something far beyond what had would have possible by normal means. He had read of such ability wielding magic that defied reason, but witnessing it firsthand sent a chill down his spine.
The wyvern's eyes burned with malevolent intelligence, its snarl twisting into something almost amused. It was toying with him.
Orion exhaled sharply, pushing past the pain. If he had any chance of surviving this battle, he needed to adapt—fast.
Summoning his black sword from his dimensional ring, he gripped the weapon tightly, its familiar weight grounding him. Forged from the densest enchanted metal, it was his most reliable tool against overwhelming foes.
"You won't get another clean shot at me," Orion muttered under his breath.
The wyvern let out a low, guttural growl in response, as if understanding his words, and flames crackled along its maw. Another attack was coming.
Orion swiftly wove his magic, intertwining wind and ice to create three dynamic barriers that moved with him, shifting like living armor. He reinforced his stance, his mind calculating potential counters. The wyvern's magic seem to ignored thr distance—so traditional defense was useless. He would need to fight unpredictability with unpredictability.
He hoped this dynamic defense would buy him the time needed to devise a counter-strategy.
Orion's thoughts raced to servh for other options. The few minutes of promised reinforcement had long stretched into eternity, each passing moment amplifying the weight of his solitude.
"Is the empire truly this unreliable?" he pondered, his voice a whisper lost amidst the chaos. Despite the promised of reinforcements he had eardroped, the silence of the city streets remained unbroken, a testament to the absence of the Royal knights he had hoped would come to aid of Elsmere.
Snapping him out of his thoughts, a fireball erupted, appearing mid-air right before his chest. But this time, Orion was ready.
He slashed forward with his sword, channeling wind magic into the strike. The force of the blade disrupted the spell's formation, scattering the fireball before it could fully ignite. The remnants of the attack sizzled and dissipated harmlessly.
The wyvern snarled, its amusement turning to irritation. Orion's lips curled into a small, grim smile. He could counter—he just needed to stay ahead.
Another fireball materialized, this time near his back. Orion twisted, directing a sharp gust of wind to deflect it before it could explode. He could sense the wyvern's growing frustration, its tail thrashing against the earth. It wasn't accustomed to its prey resisting this long.