“Roar—”
With a shrill, agonized wail, the great lion burned to ash in the raging inferno.
That spirit lion was not merely an instrument of offense and defense; it was also the unified embodiment of the Lionheart Knights' collective will.
The instant the spirit form was shattered, the knights suffered massive psychic trauma. Splitting headaches seized them, and several trembled so violently they could barely hold up their shields.
Cassius had not even used Maximize Breath. Relying solely on his formidable mastery over the fire element, he had intensified the elemental reaction within the flames. To him, such fiery breath cost almost no effort at all.
Boom—
The cone of sweeping breath began to condense, narrowing into a concentrated pillar of fire.
The flames shifted from dark red to orange, then to yellow, and finally into a blinding, searing white.
The silver shields glowed crimson under the terrible heat, until even the handles behind them grew scalding hot.
"Damn it!"
One Lionheart Knight couldn't bear the heat and lost his grip.
In an instant, the surging flames rushed in and reduced him to charred remains.
Under the baptism of the incandescent white pillar of fire, the great bulwark formed by dozens of silver shields crumbled apart. Its surface even melted into liquid, silver rivulets trickling down in streams!
"Ah!"
"I'm burning up!"
"Damn it, it's—it's melting!"
"Fire! Fire everywhere!"
Piteous wails rose one after another from the Lionheart Knights' formation.
Some were burned alive in the blistering flames, others were suffocated by the choking smoke, and some were engulfed by molten silver, cast into writhing silver statues as it hardened over them.
Fried barely maintained the Aura of Protection around his body, struggling bitterly against the encroaching frenzy of fire elements.
*He truly deserves his title as the 'Infernal Scourge.' This is nothing short of hell itself...*
He looked up at the blinding white fire descending from the heavens like divine retribution. He watched his comrades die in agony all around him, taking in their horrific deaths and hearing their tortured, frantic cries...
Yet across the face of the "Black Lion Knight," an inexplicable calm emerged—perhaps the final composure before death.
*How could anyone win against a monster like this...? Even a man like Tariq died.*
*If... if it were Tariq, what would he have done...?*
Fried lowered his head, lost in thought.
He realized with sudden clarity that he had never been that kind of person.
Loyalty, courage, justice—none of these truly belonged to his gloomy, detached nature.
Indeed, he was not the renowned "White Lion Knight," nor was he the hero who could rout hundreds of enemy champions by his own hand. Even though he had risen to become one of the commanders of the Lionheart Knights, he had never been able to follow in the fallen knight's footsteps. He had merely been a clumsy imitator of Tariq.
*How is it that I'm still not dead...?*
In the sky above, the red dragon looked down upon the ravaged earth and briefly halted the torrent of flame from his maw.
"To endure my dragonfire for so long—I admire your strength,"
his commanding voice boomed across the plains.
"Submit to me and serve the Kingdom of Cinders, and I shall grant you formidable power and enduring life!
"Refuse, and what awaits you is utter oblivion!"
The surviving Lionheart Knights on the ground lifted their heads, glaring up at the red dragon in the sky.
As the most elite order of the Principality of Bosque, most were nobles of the realm. Trained from youth in the finest chivalric traditions, they had sworn sacred oaths of fealty. They represented not only themselves, but the honor of their entire bloodlines.
To become thralls of an evil dragon was, to them, not merely the erasure of their identity, but a disgrace that would bring shame upon their houses.
"Vile dragon, you're dreaming!"
His eyes bloodshot, Vice-Commander Jayden pushed himself up with his sword. Pointing toward the red dragon in the sky, he fired a Guiding Bolt.
He knew full well such an attack was futile, but it was his final defiance as a knight—a declaration of courage in charging an insurmountable foe.
Sure enough, the ray of light dissipated before it could even draw near.
A fireball descended immediately after, reducing Jayden to charred remains before he could dodge.
"Admirable courage, yet your strength falls far short of it," Cassius said coldly.
Seeing Jayden perish, the knights showed no fear; instead, fury surged through them.
"Vile dragon, your tyranny will end!"
"My death is not the finish—there will always be those who resist!"
"For the Principality of Bosque! For Archduke Leo!"
They truly were the most loyal and formidable knights of House Bosque, counting it an honor to fall before a powerful foe. Trapped in a hopeless dead end, they chose to meet their deaths as heroes, charging toward the dragon in the sky like Don Quixote tilting at windmills.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Fireball after fireball erupted from the red dragon's maw, striking the knights with deadly precision.
The crackle of burning flesh echoed across the wasteland, sparse tongues of fire flickering amidst unending wails as the Lionheart Knights fell one by one.
Soon, only a single knight remained on the field—the "Black Lion Knight," Fried.
Unlike the noble knights who carried the glory of their lineages, Fried had grown up in an abbey. He had no family, and the only person he had ever considered an elder brother was Tariq.
Moments earlier, Fried had tried to join his comrades in a fearless charge, offering the final measure of devotion expected of a Lionheart Knight.
Yet no matter how hard he tried, he could not force his body to march to its doom.
His nature had always been this way: utterly indifferent to loyalty, honor, and the so-called chivalric code.
Fried had spent his entire life following in Tariq's footsteps, yet he had never truly lived his own life—even if that meant living on as the thrall of an evil dragon.
"I am not Tariq. I'm not even a true Lionheart Knight.
"I am only myself.
"A self-serving opportunist."
Fried murmured softly, speaking the words to himself.
High above, the red dragon descended with a resounding crash, churning up a storm of dust and cracking the earth beneath his weight.
Cassius looked down upon the sole surviving "Black Lion Knight," amusement glinting in his golden pupils. He could see the wavering and confusion in the knight's heart, and he found it intriguing.
Yet he said nothing more. There was no need. He simply stated with calm indifference:
"Submit, or die."
"I..."
"I submit."
Fried gritted his teeth and bowed his head.
As if dictated by fate, the former "Black Lion Knight" ultimately yielded to the evil dragon, surrendering to the one who had once been his enemy.
The pocket watch engraved with the holy crest of Heironeous, the god of valor, slipped from his fingers and struck the ground, slowly gathering a thin layer of dust. It seemed as though it had never truly belonged to Fried—not even for a single moment.
Chapter 156