With a thumb angled backward and a claw pointed at a nearby mound, Kinsoriel practiced the new spell once again. “Bang,” he said as an azure projectile sped away from his finger and straight ahead with a shrill sound. It collided with the sands and produced an eruption of the rough particles.

While not among the more potent spells, it would serve its purpose well. The time it took to reach its target was near instant. Unless an opponent knew what was going to happen, it wouldn’t be reactable. Spells like Lightning could do the same but held other issues. The toll on the caster’s mana, the time to channel, and as he had seen against Seigill, some beings were able to sense it anyway. This new spell would prove greater in combat, save for raw power.

It was all thanks to his insane pupil. From the very first moment, the little author had known exactly what this spell was to be. While not impossible, the last time he read of a spell with an origin like this had been decades ago, attributing it to divine inspiration. Given what he knew of the man, that further supported his theory that his student had been sent to him from the gods themselves. After all, a beginner finalizing a spell’s name in two days could only be considered a miracle.

“I must say, we have outdone ourselves with this one,” Kinsoriel praised while flexing his fingers.

Bowing, his servant said, “I’m glad you think so, Teacher.”

There was one thing left to do. “Raise your head, Benjamin.” The man did so while he continued. “You have risen beyond your species in a way I once thought impossible. Though your life is finite and your abilities inferior, I acknowledge you as a fellow spellcaster. From this day henceforth, you shall always be the first graduate of this son of Ortremel’s teachings. Pocket.”

As the hole opened up, Kinsoriel plucked out a special item that he had created days before while waiting. “For that reason, I deem it necessary to award you with this.” He opened his hand before his student and awaited the reaction.

Instead of awe or immense thanks, Ben looked confused. He picked up the clump of black scales and held them up, asking, “Did these come from you?”

Rolling his eyes, Kinsoriel clarified this. “You say this as though it weren’t obvious, but yes they did. And now they are yours.”

“I, I’m not sure I understand.”

While he hadn’t expected his servant to get it, it was still irksome to explain. “They will adhere to your body should you press them against your skin and say ‘Graft’. In this small way, you would become more like a dragon.”

Finally understanding the great honor being given to him, Benjamin became wide-eyed. “Oh,” he said simply as he continued to look at the scales.
“I’d recommend putting them over vital areas like your neck or your belly,” Kinsoriel advised off-handedly, “but the choice is yours alone. Decide for yourself what is best.”

Once the man put away his reward, it was time. Holding out his limbs at an equal distance from each other, he drew mana into his palms. He imagined the territory that was rightfully his, from the great trees that sprawled around his tower to the streams that flowed through. Focusing on that desire to go back, he then went on to the method. A circle would form on the ground. Stepping on it and closing their eyes for three seconds or longer would bring anyone to the place he called home.

Finalizing his mental image, two pleasantly warm orbs of energy formed in his hands. They floated away from him and pierced the ground. A translucent disk with a honey-like color expanded outward from the spot. Once its size was sufficient, he fully cast the spell. “Homeward,” he said softly as he pulled his arms back. The circle became fully opaque with a short-lived glow.

“Step on this and close your eyes for a few seconds,” he beckoned as he stepped forward, “I have a scheming snake to deal with.”

The contrast between Dewn and Herotiun was drastic. From arid and rough to cool and pliable ground. Suddenly changing from afternoon to early morning was tough on the eyes as well. Had this been his first time, he would have been massively disoriented.

Speaking of, Ben appeared at his side moments later, down on his knees and trembling. “I’m going to be sick, ugh.”

Chortling, Kinsoriel reassured him, “You’ll be fine, just stay still.”

Once his servant was no longer at risk of vomiting, he tasted the air. Harax was near. Time to announce himself.

Rearing back, he let out as loud a roar as he could. Ben frantically shielded his fleshy ears. “Could you warn me before you do that?!” cried the man.
“My apologies.”

Another roar came back, deep to the point even Kinsoriel could feel his body shake from it. Ben whined even more.

“Who dares tread upon my domain?” came the enraged voice of the orange dragon from above.

Kinsoriel looked up at the now grinning face of Harax. “Oh, so it’s you is it? I assume you’re just dropping by for a visit, right ‘soriel?” He landed with a tremor. “T’would be a shame if a puny thing like you had come looking fer a challenge.”

It was true that the difference in size between them was still massive. Kinsoriel wasn’t as large or as strong as the orange dragon before him even before all of this. That didn’t change what he had come to do.

“Then let there be shame,” Kinsoriel spat, “I have come for what is mine by right.”

Harax’s thick muzzle quivered for a moment before he gave a half-hearted laugh. “Always the funny one you are. I wouldn’t say pathetic dragons who fall to a few vermin deserve anything. I wonder how the great Ortremell would-” he suddenly stopped talking, sniffing at the air. Looking around the black dragon, Harax smiled wickedly. “A deathbound.”

Kinsoriel placed himself between him and Benjamin. “Do not concern yourself with him. Just like this land, he belongs to me.”

Harax’s amber-hued eyes focused in on Kinsoriel, as though what he had said was a lie. They widened. “Now that’s something else! Let me guess, is it the same deathbound you wanted me to kill months ago?”

“W-what?” his student stammered.

After shushing that slip, Kinsoriel turned back to his opponent. “Can you only hear yourself? Do not be concerned with him.” Pointing a claw at him, he emphasized, “I hereby challenge you for this land.”

The follower of Valorian, who up till this point had a generally amused expression, dropped the act all at once. “I’ve humored you long enough, ‘soriel. You come into my territory thinking you are owed a duel? Your challenge is worthless, and If you weren't so pitiable, I’d tear out your tongue for the insult.” He placed an index claw and thumb on his chin. “Actually, never mind that. I’ll accept your challenge on one condition.”

“And just what would that be?” Kinsoriel seethed.

“What’s that deathbound’s name?”

Kinsoriel looked back at Benjamin, who had fallen back. “Don’t, don’t do it, Master,” Benjamin pleaded, “he won’t keep his word. He never does!”

Harax growled at the man while Kinsoriel turned back with a neutral expression. “His name is Benjamin.”

“Benjamin it is then. If you win, I’ll give you back this land.” His face stretched out with a hideous grin. “And when I win, you’ll give me that deathbound.”

Kinsoriel weighed this option before him. Harax wasn’t ignorant when it came to battle; Orange dragons were among the best, with only reds being able to rival their prowess. He didn’t know of Benjamin’s worth, meaning he was willing to put this land up for grabs against something he didn’t really want. In that Canon breaker’s eyes, he couldn’t lose. This was a matter of pride and putting down his rival.

What would happen to his pupil if he lost? He tried to convince himself that those rules of his would keep him safe, but he couldn’t. The words of the brother couldn’t be shaken, and little things here and there confirmed as much, though he hadn’t thought of it since that night. If he lost, the little author… his little author, would surely die.

All he needed to do was win then.

“As long as no harm comes to either, I accept these terms,” Kinsoriel said solemnly.

Nodding along, Harax motioned with his head to follow. “Let us find a more appropriate site for this then.”

“Agreed.” He turned to his student and gave him a command. “Stay here while I am gone.”

He trailed behind the larger dragon and ignored the cries of his servant. In a time like this, he mustn’t show weakness.

“Are you going to just let it whine? I’d have thought you were its master, ‘soriel.”

Shooting a glare back was enough to silence his cries. They would really need to work on his behavior in front of other dragons.

Even though he knew the path they were taking, Kinsoriel’s blood boiled when he saw it poking above the tree line. His once immaculate tower, desecrated by flame and flood. Knowing what he did now, he wasn’t surprised that scorch marks were worse at the top, suggesting they started there. Those deathbounds weren’t the ones who started the fire.

“Do you think yourself funny, Harax? I’ve known of your treachery. Bringing me here only reminds me of this.”

In a brief period, a jolt traveled from the black dragon’s spine to the end of his tail. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” Harax uttered with the slimiest tone Kinsoriel had ever heard, let alone from one of his own. He lied, and he ensured that it was known that he did.

Outrage at this total blasphemy saturated every part of Kinsoriel’s body in an instant. Breathing quickened, pupils constricted to slits, and tail stiffened; before he could think twice, he already had the mana at his fingertips.

“Bang!” The blue streak screamed louder than it had during practice, punching into an orange-scaled shoulder. Harax grunted as he clutched at it. He snickered.

“You shouldn’ta done that ‘ssssoriel.”

With a ground-shattering leap, the distance between them dissipated and claws were raised. Kinsoriel avoided the attack by jumping to the side. The sheer weight difference would make any direct contact disastrous for him. He’d have to keep out of the brute’s range to win.

His opponent knew that as well. Harax refused to let up, chasing him movement for movement. Dodge left, and a claw wouldn’t be short behind. Step back, and a hand would try to grab at his throat. Finding opportunities to use spells were few and far between under this relentless assault.

“Is sliding around all you can do? Come on,” Harax goaded between his many slashes, “hit me!”

He planned on it. Finally having enough time to concentrate, he pointed a finger under the orange dragon’s chest. “Bang!” The magic blasted into the underbelly with a short-lived shriek, eliciting a massive roar of pain. It was sure to have a lasting impact against those softer scales.

As he tried pulling back his hand, a massive force surrounded his wrist. He looked down and was met with a terrifying sight; he’d been caught.

“Weak,” was all that was said as Kinsoriel was roughly drawn towards him.

Thrashing did nothing. Biting did nothing. A quick escape would be impossible. All the while, his wrist was crushed. Harax held a sadistic smirk as the bones broke under his grip.

“Oops, did you need that?”

Before he could think of a retort, Kinsoriel had the thought driven out of his head with a big punch. Then again. And again. A few of his teeth felt like they might fall out and his right eye was watering. He had enough of this. Breathing in, he blasted the fiend in front of him with intense flames.

Harax, with flames lapping at his body, lifted the smaller dragon from the wrist and spun. A loud pop filled his ear fins followed by sharp and unignorable pain in his shoulder. He was finally released, sent hurtling into his very own tower.

The stones couldn’t hold against the great force. He burst through the bottom floor’s wall, landing in a puddle of fetid stillwater. With Harax still putting out his flames in the background, he finally had a lull in the battle to think, though that would now be that much harder.

His strategy of using his magic from afar wasn’t going to cut it. Bang just didn’t have enough stopping power against the meathead. Unfortunately, it was all that he could possibly cast with how persistent his opponent chased him. A broken wrist and a dislocated shoulder made focusing that much more difficult and cost him many of his more powerful spells. And with one of his eyes already starting to swell, his depth perception would degrade heavily. This was a dire set of circumstances.

He took in his surroundings and came up with an idea. The tower was still standing, undoubtedly due to his skillful construction, but taking out any more of the supporting walls would topple it. If he could somehow collapse it over that orange head, he might be able to finish the fight there and then. One well-placed Bang would do the trick, but how would he get out in time?

“Had enough yet?” came a satisfied sounding Harax.

Damnit, he needed more time. This plan would just kill him if he got caught in it with these injuries. He needed to get him talking.

“Why did you do it?” he questioned, also ignoring the offer of surrender.

Harax stopped at the giant hole in the wall and raised a brow ridge. “Come again?”

“You worship Valorian, and yet, you took my land without fighting me for it. You let others fight your battle. You acted without honor. Why?”

The smug look of victory across the orange face died down into a stoic one.

“Do you really want to know?” When he nodded along, Harax entered the tower and knelt close, as though telling a secret. “The gods don’t care for us, so I don’t care for them or their rules anymore.”

Kinsoriel was shocked beyond measure, even above his throbbing pain and desperate attempts at a solution. Could there truly be dragon who had completely forsaken his faith?

“I don’t understand. How could you say such a thing?” he asked, genuine in his desire to know.

“Because,” Harax started as he paced around the room, “there are no consequences for anyone or anything. Deathbounds constantly break the Canon, and yet, they can go on their merry little ways not in the slightest bit affected. One day I thought to myself, ‘Why is that?’.”

He sat himself on the spiral stairs and seemed to relax. “We’re told from the day we hatch that the gods each demand that we act a certain way for their gifts. When I had accidentally told a lie years ago, I didn’t feel any different. From there, I pushed against their rules further, getting more blatant each time. Wex demanded that we not destroy knowledge in exchange for bountiful mana, but you know what happened when I burned your library?”

Kinsoriel strained to not show his anger at this. “What happened then?”

Harax laughed heartily before taking up a tone eerily absent of emotion. “Nothing.”

He could try and dash right now while his guard was down, but that likely wouldn’t be enough in his current state. Harax would be upon him near instantly. Spells made to move quickly couldn’t be channeled fast enough after starting the collapse. Cowardly as it was, perhaps Flash could give him enough time to make that sprint. No, same issue as before. None of the options he could think of were preferable, but he started gathering mana in his good hand regardless.

“I’m glad I finally have someone to tell this to, but it does change our little duel.” Harax lifted himself up and strode towards the lying dragon. “Y’see, I can’t have you going and telling others about our little chat. Wouldn’t be pretty… for them that is. I’ll do a favor for them and you, ‘soriel.” The orange fiend stood over Kinsoriel, brandishing a set of claws high above. “For being such a good listener, I’ll make it quick.”

He had run out of time. There wasn’t any escape, none of his plans had solidified. This horrid disgrace to his kind was going to intentionally kill him in a duel. The gods weren’t going to help him survive, nor would they punish his killer. He knew that. Even yet, he would have the last laugh.

Pointing a finger at the tower’s support, he opened his mouth and said the words as claws descended upon his throat. “Bang,” he whispered as his last spell shot away from him.

His breath stalled, the subtle sting of the water at his side subsided, and the claws at his neck lost all momentum. The world had been completely frozen. Five seconds like this passed before it had stopped. When it did, he was no longer in his tower with his would-be murderer, but with the Archangel at a size similar to him.

Without saying anything, she hefted him upon her back and galloped out of the now falling tower. He was placed on the ground outside while the destruction began. Only one word bounced around in his head as he saw it come down, the same from when his father had been slain in front of him: Failure.