Chapter 103: 103. Celeste

Owen’s eyes opened to a partially crimson-scaled face and golden eyes inches from his own.

“HE LIVES!” Vorthraxx bellowed. “I started thinking I would have to kiss you to get you to wake up, brother!”

Owen jerked backward and immediately regretted it as Pain lanced through his entire body. His ribs screamed. His muscles felt like they’d been shredded and poorly reassembled.

“Don’t move.” Vorthraxx’s hand pressed against his shoulder, gentle but firm. “You’re still healing. The Sovereignty burned through your life force. Your body needs time to rebuild what it consumed.”

Owen’s jaw clenched against the pain. “How long was I out?”

“One week.”

The number hit harder than any of Vorthraxx’s punches. A week. Yuki. The others.

Owen reached for the bond immediately. The telepathic link opened like a door he had forgotten existed.

“Yuki?”

Her response came through clear and immediate. Relief flooded the connection from her side before words formed.

“Owen! Where are you?”

“Drak’thar. I got into a… situation. Been unconscious for a week. I’m fine now. Where are you?”

“One of the human kingdom cities. We’ve been running quests. Alfred and Odessa are with me. We haven’t figured out this dungeon’s story yet.”

“What of Leah?”

“We got separated when we entered. Haven’t seen her since. The dungeon split us up.”

Owen processed that. The story dungeon manifested different spaces for different people. Leah was somewhere else in this preserved history, seeing whatever the land deemed relevant to her.

“I might know what the story is” Owen sent. “I’ll explain when we meet up. Keep running quests. Stay safe.”

“You too.”

The connection closed. Owen let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Vorthraxx was watching him with curiosity. “What are you thinking of?”

“N—Nothing”

“Hmm.” Vorthraxx stood and offered his hand. “Can you walk?”

Owen took it. His legs wobbled when he stood but held. Vorthraxx kept a steadying grip on his arm as they moved toward the door.

The room was small but ornate. Dragon motifs carved into every surface. The bed was larger than it needed to be—built for full dragon forms, not humanoid bodies. Owen had been sleeping in luxury while his body repaired itself.

They stepped outside.

Owen stopped.

The palace sat on a floating land suspended above Drak’thar proper. From this height, the entire dimension spread out below—purple sky meeting violet fields, the village sprawling in organized chaos, dragons circling in the distance. The Tower of Royals rose like a black spike on the horizon.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Vorthraxx said. His voice carried genuine pride. “But you know what? I’m going to show you something—or someone—even more beautiful soon. Hehehe.”

Owen turned to look at him. The crimson dragon’s expression held mischief that put Owen immediately on guard. “What are you talking about?”

Before Vorthraxx could answer, the palace doors opened behind them.

“My heirs.”

They both turned. Dominus stood in the doorway, his presence filling the space without effort.

“I have a task for both of you. A nether rift has appeared within the human kingdom. Find it and close it.”

He turned and walked back inside. The doors began to close.

“Wait, that’s it?” Vorthraxx called after him. “No other information? Just that?”

“Figure it out.” The doors shut completely.

Vorthraxx stuck his tongue out at the closed doors. “Typical.”

“I’ll cut that tongue off yours, boy!” Dominus’s voice carried through the wood.

“Sheesh.” Vorthraxx looked at Owen. “Well then, brother. You’re hurt, so you’ll ride on me.”

A crimson light flared. Vorthraxx’s humanoid form dissolved into his juvenile dragon shape—twelve meters of crimson scales and predatory grace. He lowered his shoulder.

Owen climbed onto his back, settling between the wing joints. His body protested the movement but held together.

Vorthraxx’s wings beat once. Twice. They lifted off the floating island and flew toward the barrier separating Drak’thar from the mortal realm outside.

The purple sky gave way to normal blue. The violet fields became green earth. Human settlements appeared below—small at first, then growing larger as they descended toward civilization.

“What’s a nether rift?” Owen asked over the wind.

“Spatial tear connecting the demon realm to the mortal realm.” Vorthraxx’s voice rumbled beneath Owen’s legs. “They happen when demons try to force their way through the barriers. Left unchecked, they expand. Eventually something gets through.”

Owen frowned. In his time—the future—demons occupied a continent in the mortal realm. Not a separate dimension. They lived alongside other races, separated by the seal rather than dimensional barriers.

Something must have changed during the war.

Vorthraxx descended toward a forest edge. He landed and shifted back to humanoid form. Owen slid off and nearly fell before catching his balance.

Vorthraxx walked to a nearby tree and pulled down a bag that had been hanging from a branch. He produced two long robes and tossed one to Owen.

Owen caught it and stared. “What’s this?”

“Trust me.” Vorthraxx was already pulling his robe over his wings and tail, adjusting it until his dragon features were hidden beneath fabric. “In the human kingdom, beastfolk aren’t uncommon. As long as we hide our features, nobody can tell we’re dragons.”

Owen put the robe on. The fabric was rough but functional. His wings folded tight against his back beneath it, his tail wrapped around his leg. With the hood up, he looked like any other cloaked traveler.

They walked toward the nearest city.

The gates were open. Guards stood watch but barely glanced at them as they passed. Just two more hooded figures in a city full of hooded figures.

The streets were crowded. Merchants called out prices. Children ran between buildings. The smell of cooking food mixed with less pleasant urban odors.

“Are we still searching for the nether rift?” Owen asked.

“Eh, we’ll do that later.” Vorthraxx’s grin was visible even beneath his hood. “Right now, I’ve got someone to meet!”

His tone made Owen’s instincts flare warning signals. That was not the voice of someone on official business. That was the voice of someone about to cause problems.

They turned down a side street. The crowds thinned. Vorthraxx stopped in front of a building with a sign showing a hammer and anvil.

A blacksmith’s workshop.

Vorthraxx pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Owen followed and immediately assessed the situation. Two men—thugs by the look of them, muscle for hire—had cornered a woman against the far wall. She was backing away from them, her hands raised defensively.

The woman was stunning. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Pale skin. Slender build. She looked like every idealized description of beauty Owen had ever read.

Vorthraxx’s expression shifted from playful to dangerous in an instant.

The thugs hadn’t noticed them enter. They were too focused on the woman.

“Come on, just one drink,” one was saying. “We’re not asking for much.”

“I said no.” Her voice was firm despite the fear in her eyes. “Leave. Now.”

“Or what?” The second thug stepped closer. “You gonna make us?”

Vorthraxx crossed the workshop floor in three silent steps. He stopped directly behind the first thug.

The air pressure changed. Even through the robe, Vorthraxx’s presence filled the space.

The thug turned slowly. “Who—who the fuck are you?”

Vorthraxx slapped him.

The blow launched the thug across the workshop. He hit the wall hard enough to crack plaster and slid to the floor unconscious.

“NO! Stop it!” The woman’s voice cut through the violence. “You promised not to fight anymore!”

Vorthraxx froze. His dangerous presence evaporated like it had never existed. He turned to face her with an expression that could only be described as a scolded child.

“But they were—”

“I don’t care what they were doing.” She stepped forward, her fear replaced by authority. “You promised. No fighting. You gave me your word.”

Owen stared. This human woman was berating a dragon who had nearly killed Owen a week ago. And Vorthraxx was taking it like a sheep being corrected by its shepherd.

The woman turned to the second thug, who stood frozen against the wall. “Get your friend to a cleric. Immediately.”

The thug scrambled to comply. He grabbed his unconscious partner and dragged him toward the door, shooting venomous looks at Vorthraxx.

“We’ll remember this,” he spat. “You haven’t seen the last of us.”

The door slammed behind them.

Vorthraxx removed his hood. His crimson hair caught the light from the forge. He opened his arms for a hug.

The woman stepped aside, dodging him completely. “No.”

“What? Come on!”

“You were violent. No hugs for people who break promises.”

“They were harassing you! I had no choice!”

“You always have a choice. That’s what having discipline means.”

They bickered back and forth. Vorthraxx making excuses, the woman calmly dismantling each one. Owen watched the entire exchange with growing amusement.

Finally, the woman turned to Owen. “Are you going to introduce your friend? Or does he not get a name?”

Vorthraxx straightened immediately. His playful demeanor shifted to something more formal.

“This is Owen. My brother.” He gestured to the woman with a flourish. “And THIS is Celeste! The most beautiful woman beyond all realms!”

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