Apocalyptic Dragon Riders

Chapter 8

Even the earth-element dragons, famed for their defense, couldn’t withstand the tearing force of the space rifts — and even a silver dragon, a rare space-element dragon, would face permanent exile if caught in the raging spatial turbulence.

Suddenly, the sky darkened. An overwhelming force of suction swept in from behind, halting the air cavalry mid-flight and drastically slowing them down. Beasts and birds that were never built for speed shrieked and flapped frantically, but their wings could not overcome the pull. Riders screamed at the top of their lungs, flooding their mounts with battle aura in a desperate attempt to escape, but they were still dragged backward, inch by inch.

On the ground, lighter objects started trembling, then slowly floated upward into the air.

The black spatial rifts kept stretching and splitting unpredictably, their expansion speed shocking everyone. More and more air cavalry were swallowed whole — some were merely brushed by a rift and still got torn apart. The rifts spread like a living nightmare, unstoppable, devouring everything in their path. Space magic didn’t care about strength — if you were inside its radius, it was instant death.

Neither the Slaan Empire nor the Texi Empire’s riders could keep their composure. Panic gripped them all as they realized they couldn’t outrun the spreading “Prison of Space.” It was pure horror.

ROAR!

Barely ten meters away, a Slaan Empire dragon and its rider were caught completely off guard when a rift — no thicker than a man’s arm — swept across them. The dragon’s massive body was silently severed in two, plummeting earthward. Its death cry faded quickly into silence. The rider was flung clear — only to have his head sheared off by another rift before anyone could even try to save him. His headless corpse was sucked into the void.

The Slaan Empire’s entire dragon-rider formation broke into chaos.

“Fly, damn it!”

“Everything you’ve got!”

“Punch through!”

Dragon riders channeled every last drop of their aura into their partners’ bodies, desperate to wring out even the tiniest bit of extra speed. The sky filled with frenzied dragon roars and battle cries. It was even more terrifying than the earlier clash — better to die fighting the Texi cavalry than to be torn apart by an invisible rift.

The Texi Empire’s own air cavalry were in an even worse state. Their combat strength was lower, their mounts slower and weaker. In mere moments, more than half had been swallowed by the rifts — the army was on the brink of total annihilation.

At the Texi ground command post, the supreme commander nearly tore out his beard in frustration. Once a grand curse was unleashed, it was essentially uncontrollable. Even with a dedicated space-mage corps, there was no way to redirect the spell’s destructive force — if they could, this battlefield would have turned into a one-sided m******e long ago.

On the ground, soldiers in the melee suddenly felt weightless. At first they cheered — they could leap farther, strike deeper into enemy ranks — but the joy died quickly when they realized they could no longer come back down. Flailing helplessly, they were pulled higher and higher, just in time to see the nightmarish “Prison of Space” overhead expanding like some monstrous, spiked sea urchin, devouring the sky. Despair-stricken wails filled the battlefield.

“Tell the mage corps to shut it down!” the Texi commander shouted when he saw his own men getting dragged into the kill zone.

“We can’t stop it! The spell’s completely out of control! We’re finished — we’re all dead!” Archmage Margus, commander of the mage corps, stood pale-faced before him, his voice cracking.

Their enemy’s situation was no better. The Slaan Empire’s mage commander was just as stricken with despair — the key to a forbidden spell wasn’t its raw power but its control. A spell that lost control was no longer a weapon, but mutual destruction. That’s what made it a “forbidden” curse.

Over in the space-mage phalanx, the precious mages hung suspended in midair, their earlier calm completely gone. Their faces were pale, eyes rolling back, bodies convulsing as if they were chickens caught by the neck, dangling helplessly. The out-of-control curse was sucking away their mana — and for some, even their life force. Wrinkles, liver spots, white hair, and shriveled skin appeared in seconds, as though time itself had been fast-forwarded — until they crumbled into dust.

“Prison of Space.” It lived up to its name. In barely ten breaths, it had already consumed nearly half the battlefield. Countless soldiers had vanished into its depths, swallowed by endless darkness.

The Slaan Empire’s dragon riders were in complete disarray, weaving and dodging madly, doing anything they could to get out of range of the space rifts.

“Molin! Molin!”

He heard someone shouting his name. Looking toward the sound, his face drained of color — the fire dragon Misael and his rider, Arka, were completely exhausted. Already wounded, now burdened with Grawen, the minister’s pampered son, they were being dragged ever closer to a yawning space rift.

Grawen’s wyvern wasn’t stupid — it flapped desperately, trying to help the fire dragon gain altitude — which was the only reason Arka hadn’t abandoned it. As for Grawen himself, his usual arrogance was gone. He was pale, wordless, and limp, staring at the rift in mute terror.

“Arka! Hold on! Throw that bastard Grawen off — he’s dragging you down!” Molin roared.

He could never abandon his childhood friend to die just to save himself — but for Grawen, Molin felt nothing but pure killing intent. If not for that glory-hungry fool, Arka and Misael wouldn’t be in this death trap.

“No! Don’t give up on me! Arka, please! Don’t let me die — I’ll give you money, women — I’ll have my father grant you a title, a castle, land — anything! I’ll make you a baron, a duke, whatever you want! You know my father is one of the Empire’s Four Ministers — he can do it! Just don’t let me die!”

Grawen had completely lost his composure. His voice cracked, tears streaming as he begged like a whipped dog, offering bribes for his life.

Money and women were one thing — but a title meant everything for Arka’s family. A bitter smile twisted his lips. This scum really was like the devil — dangling the exact bait that could make a man waver. For the sake of his family’s future, he had to try.

Arka clenched his jaw and shouted to his dragon:

“Misael! Give it everything you’ve got! I don’t care how — just get us out of here! I swear I’ll repay you! Go!”

Every last drop of his aura poured into the dragon’s body, his connection with the fire dragon burning at full force.

Misael gave a long, shattering roar, the flames under his wings burning white-hot, exploding with deafening thunder as he fought to break free of the rift’s pull.

“Goldie! Go get Arka and Misael!” Molin yelled, pounding on the golden dragon’s armored neck. He could see that Misael still wasn’t fast enough — they were losing altitude.

“You’re insane! That’s a grand curse! I can’t even guarantee I’ll make it out alive — and you want me to fly back into it?!” the golden dragon bellowed, whipping his head back to glare at him.

“Misael, harder! You useless lizard, harder! If we make it out, I’ll reward you!” Grawen screamed hysterically, clinging to life like a drowning man.

But the fire dragon’s strength was spent. Its body burned like a living torch, roaring in rage and despair, but it couldn’t escape the rift’s pull.

“Molin! If you get out alive — take care of my sister Luna — and tell Onisha to marry someone better than me. Tell her I wish them happiness! I’ll love her and Luna forever!”

Arka ripped off his helmet, tears streaming down his face as he shouted his final words across the sky.

Misael gave one last, shattering roar. Its flames blazed even brighter — but it still couldn’t break free.

“Help me! Somebody help me! Arka, you bastard, I’ll have your whole family executed if I die!”

Grawen’s true nature reared its head again, cursing the very people who risked everything to save him.

“Save them. Now.”

Molin’s voice was like steel, his eyes locked on the golden dragon.

“Absolutely not!” Goldie roared back. This knight he’d always thought of as beneath him had the gall to order him — to risk a dragon’s life in a suicidal stunt.