“Point to the head!” said Argôn.

He was on one of the last front lines standing. They were on the outskirts of the springs. He was far from the kingdom, for this battle was a personal one.

“Lord, there are no more powders left.” said the general.

“Get out of the catapult!” said the king, “Go to the third wing and shoot Dracko right now!”

The King grabbed the catapult and, with his right hand, caused a small flame that ignited the great stone in flames. He was trying to attack his brother, and Dracko was trying to annihilate him as well.

“Fire!” indicated the king

“Lord, there are not so many dragons left!” said the general.

“Esterod, watch out!”

The general of the group was tremendously weakened. A gleaming fire that came from Dracko´s breath ben the last front lines. There were only a couple of dragons left and the Supreme Fire Dragon. Now leader of the Army of Splendor.

The dragon had more poison in his heart, but also, more power on his side; the battle that the Sons of Salvation were giving wasn´t enough. It was a suicide mission.

Dracko devoured Esterod, in front of the King. And with this, Argôn was filled with rage and hate towards his brother.

“What’s wrong with you, brother?” Dracko said. “You can’t stand the consequences of your dishonor now? I told you this day would come!”

“Silence, useless trash! You will never be more than a replacement! If it wasn’t for me, you would never have that position! You will forever be the second one!”

Dracko became enraged with these words and began to face the man. The King of Anaís and the Supreme Dragon faced each other in a deadly duel. The fire dragon emanated a red dark fire. The man only had his silver sword, and his very limited powers of fire.

The fight was intense, and the bursts of fire were deadly even for the divine being, but the skilled King dodged and shielded among the rocks that reached the edges of the area. They had reached a rocky cliff. This battle was only aimed at the death of one of the two, which at this point, it was very close to it.

Dāel knew it. He decided to abandon the battle, and secretly approached the personal confrontation. The battle was getting out of control. The confrontation continued in the last rocky areas of the south; a fall for the King represented an imminent death.

A restlessness he could explain not; a riot bewitching the soul of the lonely king. Once perpetuated in severity, around the ribs of anguish. Around the merciless attack. Around the kingdom that forsook empathy and peace, and replace these sites with fears and anxiety; forced to derail every corner of the fallen realm. Then the rooks witness the battle. Long forgotten stones, became the arena of a ceaseless fire. Deep in despair, as the flames consumed the heart of the king. Flames that punish him with pain and revenge. Flames that unleashed the true face of resentment, in this own dragon, in this own brother

At one point, Dracko approached to hurt him with his sharp teeth. Argôn ducked down and cut the dark creature’s neck a little, knocking him down to the ground.

Dracko rose from the ground. Suspended over the sky, he emanated the most powerful fire he could have made towards the king. The fire fell on the whole body of the man, from which he raised his hand to protect himself and stop him, but this was useless. The fire burned throughout the King’s body, but he was still standing. With his left forearm up, and his right hand holding the silver sword. And even though his body gradually gave up, his mind was never going to kneel.

He was shaking; his body was weakening. The burning fire of the scorpion dragon slowly burned the body of man. He was forced to place one knee on the floor, and his eyes began to close gradually. Dāel was near the place; hidden behind the stones. His best friend was about to die, in the hands of his own brother. He flew off quickly, and went directly towards Dracko, stopping the gust of fire that the dragon roared at the man.

“That’s enough!”

“What are you doing, Dāel?! Get off of me!” said Dracko.

The dragons began a brief battle, near the sharp rocks. Dāel managed to knock down the General of Splendor. He threw him near the cliff and, defeated, made him come to his senses.

“The Golden King has asked for him alive!” said Dāel. “Look at him! Look how you left him! He’s going to die!”

Argôn fell on the ground, wobbly.

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