Chapter 20 (Death Mana)

. . .

In the main residence of Demacia, Tianna and Xin Zhao sat in a spacious sitting room, the soft afternoon light filtering through linen curtains. The room was adorned with polished dark wood furniture and a large, intricately carved table at its center. The faint aroma of freshly brewed tea hung in the air, complementing the gentle sound of the tea being poured.

Xin Zhao's brows furrowed as he stared into the steaming cup in his hands. His posture was tense, his usually composed demeanor betrayed by the tight set of his jaw. After a moment of contemplation, he broke the heavy silence.

"Alexander… I can't stop worrying about what happened. It's been a week. No word, no sign." His voice carried a gravity that filled the room, each word weighted with concern.

Tianna, seated opposite him, set her cup down with a deliberate calm. Her expression remained neutral, her fingers lightly clasped around the saucer.

"Perhaps he's dead," she said, her tone void of emotion. "He may be talented, but talent doesn't make one invincible. If that's the case, it's unfortunate for Demacia, but not unexpected."

Xin Zhao's grip on his cup tightened briefly before he set it down, careful to control the flicker of anger in his eyes. He respected Tianna's pragmatism, but her detached demeanor grated against the deep unease in his heart.

"He's strong," Xin Zhao replied evenly, though his voice hinted at restrained intensity. "What he did—" He paused, his tone lowering. "It was heroic. Few would have had the courage to act as he did."

Tianna arched an eyebrow, her skepticism evident. "Heroism isn't a shield against mortality, Xin Zhao. We must be realistic. A boy of his age taking on such a challenge? It's a miracle he even survived as long as he did."

"..that informant," Xin Zhao muttered, his tone sharp. "No sign of his whereabouts?"

Tianna's eyes darkened, a flicker of cold fury crossing her face. "We found a corpse. Poisoned. Suicide, most likely." Her voice dropped, laced with menace. "But rest assured—someone will pay."

The tension in the room was palpable. Xin Zhao's gaze drifted to the window, his thoughts clouded by doubt and a reluctant hope. Tianna remained poised, her calm exterior masking any personal opinions she might have harbored.

The quiet was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of a guard. He entered the room with urgency, bowing respectfully before addressing them.

"Apologies for the intrusion," the guard began, his voice steady but charged with urgency. "There's a commotion at the eastern gate."

Tianna and Xin Zhao exchanged brief glances before turning their attention to the guard.

"What's happening?" Tianna asked, her tone calm yet firm.

"It's a boy—or perhaps a teenager. Black hair, reddish eyes, carrying a dark blade and a massive egg. He's causing quite a stir."

Xin Zhao's breath hitched, and he stood abruptly, cutting off the guard mid-report.

"Alexander! Is that his name?" Xin Zhao demanded, his voice sharp with urgency. "Speak plainly!"

The guard hesitated, momentarily startled by the intensity in Xin Zhao's eyes. "Y-yes, sir. The crowd is shouting his name—'Alexander, the Young Dragon.'"

Tianna exhaled softly, her expression unreadable as she rose from her chair with deliberate elegance. "So, he lives," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "Let's go confirm it, shall we? If it's truly him, I expect quite the explanation."

Without waiting for further prompts, they followed the guard through the corridors, a charged silence hanging between them—hope, disbelief, and curiosity colliding in the quiet.

. . .

. . .

Six days earlier

The rain was relentless, a constant drumming against the canopy of the magical forest, soaking everything in its path. I woke up amidst the wreckage of the battle, my breath shallow, my vision hazy. Beside me lay the corpse of the white dragon, its once-majestic form reduced to a lifeless mass of scales and blood.

I pushed myself up, my body screaming in protest. Each movement was a reminder of the toll the fight had taken. The deep cuts, broken ribs, and bruised muscles all seemed to synchronize their agony into one unbearable chorus.

"In the end," I whispered hoarsely, "I won."

The weight of the statement settled as my gaze locked onto the dragon. It hadn't been a clean victory—far from it. I'd relied on every ounce of skill and power at my disposal, combining them into one desperate gamble.

But victory, I realized, was fleeting. The real challenge lay ahead. My mana reserves were depleted, and my wounds would have killed any ordinary soldier. Healing them through conventional means would be impossible.

"Those books," I murmured, recalling the knowledge my mother had left behind. They were full of secrets that no commoner should have possessed, rituals and techniques that defied explanation.

Dragging myself toward the dragon's carcass, the blood from my hands mixed with the dragon's ichor as I carved the ancient sigils from memory into its scales. Each stroke was painstaking, the symbols forming a pattern that pulsed with latent energy.

"This is insane," I muttered, my voice barely audible over the rain. "But I'll be damned if I let myself die here."

Placing my trembling hand on the dragon, I began the incantation. The words, foreign and guttural, carried a weight that pressed against my mind. As the last syllable left my lips, the air shifted.

Ssss

The dragon's body began to wither, its once-pristine scales turning dull and cracked. A dark, almost viscous energy seeped from its form and into mine, coursing through my veins like liquid fire. My wounds knit together with alarming speed, broken bones snapping back into place.

'So this is death mana. Impressive.'

As I stood, the ground beneath me trembled slightly. The slimecite on my arm shimmered, absorbing some of the remaining energy from the ritual. It pulsated faintly, almost as if it were alive.

I flexed my fingers, marveling at the restored strength in my body. But the relief was short-lived. A sharp pain shot through my back, intense and unrelenting, as if something deep within me was trying to break free.

Throb—Snap

"Damn it!" I hissed, clutching at my sides. The pain was more than physical—it was primal, invasive, and laced with a strange addictive pull.

I staggered to a nearby tree, using its trunk for support. The pain didn't subside, but I forced myself to breathe through it.

'This ritual... it works, but the cost is steep.' My thoughts drifted back to those books. They had answers, but also questions. Questions that gnawed at the edge of my understanding. Where had my mother acquired such forbidden knowledge?

The rain continued to fall, masking the anguish etched into my expression. I straightened slowly, testing my limbs. The pain in my back remained—a dull, persistent ache—but it was manageable.

"I need answers," I muttered, gazing into the dark expanse of the forest. The dragon's corpse, now a husk, lay forgotten behind me. "And more than that, I need understanding. Imitations are not enough... I need techniques."

.

The forest was silent, the kind of silence born from a predator's presence. After days of recuperation, my body had regained its strength, and my mind was sharper than ever. I crouched on a rocky ledge overlooking the dragon's nest, observing its inhabitants with cold calculation.

'This time, I know what to expect.'

The past days had been grueling yet productive. I trained without restraint, refining my powers and testing the boundaries of my abilities. But training alone wasn't enough. I needed to control the battlefield, which meant eliminating every living creature within kilometers of the nest. Prey was scarce now, leaving the black dragon with no choice but to hunt farther and farther from its lair.

'So, elemental powers strengthen when merged with their kin,' I mused, watching as the celestial energy within me consumed the remnants of the dragon's magic, growing brighter and deadlier.

Four days later, the moment I'd been waiting for finally came.

The black dragon stirred in the hollow of its massive tree, the deep rumble of its growl reverberating through the forest as it surveyed the surroundings. The younglings had finally fallen asleep, and with no prey nearby, it spread its enormous wings and launched into the sky.

"Finally," I murmured, my breath barely audible as the dragon's silhouette vanished into the dark canopy above.

I descended silently, weaving through the dense underbrush until I reached the nest. The smell of ash and decay lingered in the air.

The slimecite at my side stirred, sensing the malice in my intent. It shifted, expanding into a curved, wicked scythe. Mana drained from my body, infusing the weapon until sparks of energy flickered along its edge.

With precision and efficiency, I executed a devastating horizontal circular slash.

HIZZ

The air crackled with energy as the scythe tore through the nest in one fluid motion. Flesh and scales split cleanly; the young dragons, still nestled and defenseless, were severed in an instant.

I stood amidst the carnage, blood pooling around my boots, watching the lifeless bodies.

'Perhaps keeping them alive would have been more beneficial,' I thought, my lips curving into a faint, sardonic smile. 'But what can I say? I'm stressed.'

The scene was macabre, but it was necessary. The filth of sentimentality had no place here.

'They all have the same powers. Great, Kayle's power will strengthen even further.'

I stepped forward, the slimecite returning to its dormant state. My mind was already formulating the next step.

'But now, I mustn't waste this opportunity.'

Kneeling among the corpses, I etched symbols into their bodies with precision, drawing on the knowledge my mother's books had provided. The mana of death—a volatile and dangerous force—was being drawn. The air thickened as the energy surged, flowing toward my sword.

Ssss

The slimecite pulsed, absorbing the black mana eagerly, its surface shimmering with a faint dark glow as I turned it into a simple sword.

"I knew it, it works." I whispered.

'But it's unstable,' I noted, tightening my grip on the hilt. 'This energy won't last long, but it could be useful in the future. For now, it'll remain dormant—its form won't change while holding this power.'

Satisfied, I stood, resting the blade and raising my arms in a fluid motion, focusing on the next phase of my plan.

The air around me grew heavy, the temperature spiking dramatically. Flames, borrowed from the dragons and now completely eaten by Kayle's celestial magic, swirled around me in a brilliant display of destructive power.

FWOOSH—ROAR

After some time the nest began to crackle and burn, the wood disintegrating into embers as the flames consumed everything in their path. The heat was overwhelming, distorting the air and reducing the once-mighty nest to little more than ash.

But amidst the inferno, something caught my eye.

There, nestled among the embers and untouched by the flames, lay a single unhatched egg. Its shell was smooth and unyielding, its surface gleaming faintly in the flickering light.

I approached it, my steps deliberate, the heat around me subsiding as I reached out. My fingers brushed against its surface, and I marveled at its resilience.

"Strong," I murmured, a faint smirk playing on my lips. "Very well. You've earned your life."

The strength of the dragons, their legacy, still lingered in this egg. As I lifted it carefully into my hands, the forest was silent once more, save for the faint crackle of the dying flames.

With the egg cradled in my arms, I turned and disappeared into the shadows.

. . .

. . .

. . .

The gates of Demacia loomed large, their imposing presence familiar yet strangely comforting after the ordeal. As I approached, the guards stationed at the entrance immediately recognized me, their reactions igniting a chain of excitement.

"It's him! The boy's back!" one of them shouted, his voice carrying through the air.

"Alexander survived?"

"He's alive!"

The commotion spread like wildfire, drawing more soldiers and civilians alike.

'What's all this noise about?' I wondered, my brows furrowing. 'I know I've made a name for myself, but this feels… excessive.'

. .

After some hurried explanations from the guards, the situation became clear. They had assumed I was dead.

"We were already preparing a search party for you!" said Captain Erik, his booming laughter echoing as he approached. He clapped me on the back with a force that nearly made me stagger.

'Captain Erik,' I mused. 'The man's as bad at Tellstones as he is at controlling his strength.'

"That would've been premature, Captain," I replied, offering him a tired but genuine smile. The exhaustion of my journey weighed on me, but the sight of familiar faces eased the burden slightly.

The crowd erupted into laughter, the tension that had hung in the air now replaced with relief and levity.

"Good one young dragon!"

"Haha"

'Why are they laughing? and stop calling me that,' I thought, shaking my head. 'Apparently, dying earns you a lot of admiration,'

Before I could fully process the moment, I felt a sudden weight against my chest. Warm arms wrapped around me tightly, and a familiar voice broke through the din.

"You're okay," Arrika whispered, her voice thick with relief. She clung to me for a moment longer before stepping back, her dark eyes scanning my face with a mixture of worry and exasperation. "Don't do that again."

I blinked, caught off guard by her uncharacteristic display of emotion. "Noted," I replied softly, though my usual sharpness crept into my tone.

She released me with a faint smile, her cheeks tinged faintly pink, before retreating into the crowd.

Then came Xin Zhao. His approach was deliberate, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. His expression was stern, but his eyes betrayed a hint of relief.

"You made me lose sleep, boy," he said, his arms crossed as his sharp gaze locked onto mine. "For a while, I thought I'd lost you. But…" His voice softened just slightly. "I see you've defied expectations yet again."

I smirked faintly, masking the weariness that clung to my every move. "It was never out of control," I quipped, though my body begged to differ.

Xin Zhao exhaled deeply, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a restrained smile. "Just make sure you keep coming back in one piece."

Behind him, Tianna stood in quiet observation. She hadn't said a word, but the faint, almost imperceptible curl of her lips spoke volumes. Satisfaction? Pride? Perhaps both.

The weight of the journey still pressed heavily on me, but as I stood amidst the faces of those who had worried and hoped, a strange warmth settled in my chest.

For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to enjoy it.