Apocalyptic Dragon Riders

Chapter 5

“Misair! Protect your knight—damn it, you’re spacing out again!” Goldcoin bellowed, roaring so loud it drowned out the clash of battle. With a powerful beat of his wings, he slammed into a nearby fire dragon, knocking it aside. Then he snapped his wings shut and dove, the sudden drop so fierce it made even the proudest dragon realize that without the cooperation of its rider, death was only a heartbeat away. The fire dragon let out a long, urgent roar to warn the slightly younger fire dragon beside him.

An ice spear as long as half a dragon’s body shot past the spot where Goldcoin had just forced Misair away, the freezing air around it biting to the bone. It didn’t slow until it was far, far away, finally arcing downward and vanishing into the distance. Whether it struck anyone in the army below was no longer a concern for Morin and his companions.

Whoosh!

Only a second or two later did the sound of the spear cutting through the air reach them, a chilling reminder of how close that strike had been—so fast it had broken the sound barrier and beaten its own sound. Morin and the fire dragon knight, Arka, felt their hearts skip a beat. These two were too careless—this was a battlefield, and anything could happen here.

Under normal circumstances, a gold dragon wouldn’t have cared whether a fire dragon’s rider lived or died. But in battle, the loss of a single warrior could shift the entire balance of power.

“Damn it! Tessi Empire scum!” Arka swore, glaring at the faint black dots flitting in the storm clouds above. Misair arched his long neck and hurled several blazing blue fireballs in their direction. Whether they hit was anyone’s guess.

“Goldcoin—let’s go!” Morin ground the words out between clenched teeth, battle fury flashing in his eyes. The earlier near-miss had been a deliberate ambush, an ice spear so perfectly aimed at a fire dragon it could only have been planned in advance. Even now, icicles still clung to Goldcoin’s wing tips.

“Charge!” Goldcoin roared at the still-rattled Arka and Misair. “Little fire dragon—cover fire!”

With a savage beat of his wings, his entire body armored itself, bristling with spikes until he looked like a flying war machine. The golden dragon’s body could morph like liquid metal, shaping itself into weapons at will. Now he looked like an airborne porcupine, weaving through the sky as he climbed toward the clouds above. His flight path mimicked a wind dragon’s deadly “sparrow-hunt trajectory.” Though he could only manage a tenth of its full agility—lacking the wind element—it was more than enough to make up for his usual clumsiness in the air.

Two fireballs the size of human heads streaked after him, sticking close like loyal hounds. Arka and Misair, for all their brashness, were true dragon knight partners. The maneuver—“Meteor Moon”—was one of Morin’s signature assist techniques, requiring absolute trust and coordination. Goldcoin tore toward the clouds, flanked by the blazing fireballs like twin meteors.

“Goldcoin! Give them something to remember us by—Blade Barrage!” Morin shouted, his voice ringing with killing intent.

Golden battle aura flared from him, wrapping him in a halo of light. With a sharp clang, a massive two-handed dragon-slaying sword shot from the rack on his back, the blade catching the light like a flash of lightning as it locked into his grip.

Goldcoin let out a low, vicious hum. Razor-sharp blades detached from his wings and shot forward at blinding speed, spearing into the clouds where the black shadows hid. The whistling of the blades cutting the air echoed long after they were gone, every bit as fast as the earlier ice spear. Metal manipulation was the gold dragon’s specialty: he could reshape his body, grow armor, form blades, and hurl them with magnetic force fields—his natural, devastating gift.

A chorus of startled, furious screeches erupted from the clouds—Goldcoin’s strike had found its mark.

Lightning cracked down from above. Goldcoin twisted his body left and right, dodging as the two fireballs behind him collided with a lightning bolt as thick as a water barrel. Two colossal red blooms exploded in midair, lighting the sky like giant flaming chrysanthemums.

“This weather’s not right. This is the Tessi Empire’s doing—storm skies are bad for me!” Goldcoin snarled. “Hang on tight, boy! If you fall, don’t blame me—I’m going in!”

The storm clouds above churned with brewing lightning. Goldcoin’s metallic armor practically begged for thunderstrikes. Though his magnetic field might protect him from some, there was no guarantee he could withstand a full barrage.

Morin’s battle aura formed a glowing shield around him, but every time lightning snaked across its surface, his muscles twitched and his movements slowed.

Fighting under storm clouds was like battling the heavens themselves. Their enemies had chosen the terrain perfectly, gaining a deadly advantage. Morin and Arka both knew their power was hampered here.

“Then let’s kill our way up there and tear them all apart!” Morin roared, his red cloak snapping like a battle flag. Gold dragons were famed for close-quarters s*******r. If a dark dragon might leave its victims in pieces, a gold dragon wouldn’t stop until there were no pieces left.

“Goldcoin, shut your eyes—follow my voice!” Morin barked.

Though Goldcoin always dreamed of getting rid of his rider, he wasn’t foolish enough to try it in battle. Without a knight, even a dragon’s strength dropped, and their enemies would waste no time finishing them off. As a gold dragon—proud, the living weapon of the gods themselves—he would never flee a fight.

Boom!

Morin’s aura flared, expanding into a golden shell that enclosed Goldcoin’s entire body. They shot straight upward into the clouds like a golden comet.

Suddenly, the shell blazed like a newborn sun. The entire sky turned blinding white.

Weapons clashed. Beasts howled. A scream, off-pitch and terrible, rang out as a rider in blue armor tumbled from the clouds, leaving a trail of blood as he plummeted like a falling star.

Goldcoin’s massive form burst from the clouds, claws crushing a massive black-feathered raptor—a ninth-tier storm roc, a creature of lightning and wind that noble houses prized as divine guardians.

Now it was nothing but prey.

Goldcoin’s body twisted. His blades shredded the roc midair. Flesh and feathers rained down like gore-soaked snow.

The remaining black specks in the clouds scattered in panic. One griffon rider trailed a stream of blood, a shining golden blade still embedded in his arm—the earlier “Blade Barrage” finding its mark. Fireballs slammed into the clouds one after another, lighting them red as the fleeing riders reeled from the onslaught. Misair flanked Goldcoin, hurling more fireballs like suns, each one charged with deadly, compressed heat far beyond normal flame spells.

“Cowards! Running like rabbits!” Goldcoin snarled. “Morin! I want them all dead!”

Morin said nothing. Behind his visor, his gaze was like a drawn sword, scanning the skies for the next target. His massive dragon-slaying sword gleamed, a single drop of blood sliding down its edge before the wind tore it away.