CHAPTER 10 — What Should Not Have Existed
The forest had not calmed.
The ambush was over, yes… but the world still vibrated with that dirty echo left behind by irreversible acts. Smoke lingered in the air, and fine ash clung to the damp leaves. The earth was torn open into trenches and craters where paths had once been. The scent of iron—fresh blood—mixed with burnt resin.
Lyra was breathing hard.
She wasn’t injured. Not yet. But her body remained locked in survival mode: shoulders tight, jaw clenched, eyes scanning the surroundings as if something might leap from the shadows at any second.
Caelum stood a few steps ahead.
He wasn’t looking at the sky. He wasn’t looking at the ground.
He was looking at the distance—as if his attention were fixed on a point that did not yet exist.
“The others…” Lyra swallowed. “They really got away?”
Caelum nodded without turning.
“Your order was clear. They left when they had to.”
Relief touched her chest for less than a blink.
Because then the forest went quiet.
Not normal morning silence. Not the silence after combat. This was different—an announcing silence. The birds vanished from the air. The wind turned into a whisper that brushed like a cold hand.
Caelum tightened his grip on his sword.
“They’re coming,” he said.
Lyra looked up.
At first she saw nothing. Only low gray clouds, heavy and thick. But then a shadow passed above the treetops—massive, slow, like the hull of a ship crossing the sky.
Then another.
And another.
The air grew hot in an instant, as if the sun had dropped to just above their heads.
Then she saw them.
Three colossal bodies descending in wide circles.
Scales red like heated iron. Massive wings carving through the air with deep, thunderous beats. Golden eyes—intelligent, merciless.
Lyra felt the world shrink inside her chest.
“No…” she whispered. “That’s impossible.”
Red dragons were not a category in any bestiary manual.
They were legends. Figures from ancient chronicles most scholars dismissed as exaggerations meant to frighten children or glorify long-dead heroes.
“Red dragons,” she said, as if speaking the words were a sacrilege. “In the kingdom… they’re considered…”
“Legendary,” Caelum finished.
The first dragon descended lower, its shadow swallowing the clearing. When it opened its jaws, Lyra saw white light inside—like a forge burning at its core.
“Humans,” it roared. The voice struck the ground and climbed through her bones. “The Sin of Envy promised us a reward.”
Lyra took a step back without meaning to. Her hands trembled around her sword hilt.
“This… this isn’t an attack,” she said, almost convincing herself. “This is…”
“An execution,” Caelum corrected.
And as if that word had unlocked the second stage of the nightmare, the ground trembled.
First a low rumble, like underground thunder. Then the sound of trees snapping in the distance. Finally, from the edge of the forest, enormous silhouettes emerged.
Minotaurs.
But not the kind described in regional tales. Not the kind a well-prepared squad could bring down.
These were giants.
The first one shattered a tree with its shoulder without slowing. Crude armor plates were strapped across its massive frame. In its hands, a mace like a torn pillar from ancient ruins.
Then a second.
A third.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
And behind them… a tide.
Lyra clenched her teeth until it hurt.
“How can the Sin of Envy control things like this?”
Caelum didn’t answer.
Not because he didn’t know.
Because there was no time to waste.
The second dragon swooped down diagonally, cutting off their eastern escape. The third remained high above, circling like a judge who had already delivered a verdict.
“This is not a hunt,” the second dragon said, voice almost amused. “It’s a message.”
Lyra searched desperately for an exit.
There wasn’t one.
Fire from above. Minotaurs closing in. The forest tightening like a trap.
Caelum finally turned and looked at her.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
“Lyra,” he said. “Listen carefully.”
“Don’t step away from me,” she shot back, fighting to regain control.
Caelum shook his head once.
“No. When it starts, you move back. Stay behind that ridge.” He pointed toward a lower rocky incline. “Do not intervene.”
“What are you saying?” Lyra’s voice rose. “I’m not going to stand there while you die!”
Caelum held her gaze.
“If you intervene, you die.”
It wasn’t cruel.
It was fact.
Lyra felt it like a blow to the stomach. She wanted to argue—but the air shifted again.
Not because of the dragons.
Because of Caelum.
There was no glow. No transformation. Nothing dramatic.
Just a sensation.
As if something immense was beginning to emanate from him. Something without shape, yet occupying space. A pressure that tightened the chest and made breathing difficult.
Lyra’s knees nearly gave out.
“Caelum…” she whispered.
He drew his sword.
The sound was simple. Almost quiet.
The forest reacted.
Leaves shuddered. The ground cracked. The air thickened, as if the world itself remembered there was an order… and someone was about to enforce it.
The first dragon roared, irritated.
“Is that all?” it mocked. “A human with a scrap of steel?”
Caelum did not answer.
The dragon opened its jaws.
Fire.
A column of white-red flame descended, devouring air and light. Heat struck Lyra like a wall.
Caelum walked forward.
The fire swallowed him.
And stopped.
It didn’t explode. It didn’t deflect.
It simply… could not pass through him.
The dragon froze.
“What…?”
Caelum took another step.
The fire split around him like water hitting stone.
Lyra felt terror crawl up her spine.
Not because of the dragon.
Because of him.
The second dragon descended in fury.
“Minotaurs! Crush him!”
The army surged forward.
The ground shook under their charge. Massive weapons lifted high. Trees were cut down like grass.
Caelum moved.
He didn’t run.
He vanished.
He reappeared in the air near the first dragon, as if distance no longer applied.
His blade traced a single arc.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the dragon’s left wing separated from its body.
The creature screamed, spiraling down and crashing into the forest like a collapsing mountain. Minotaurs were crushed beneath it.
Caelum landed with the impact.
Not dragged down.
He used it.
He leapt from the fallen body like it were a stepping stone.
The second dragon tried to retreat.
Caelum appeared on its back.
His sword plunged down.
A deep cut.
Not fatal.
Anchoring.
The dragon shrieked and twisted, trying to throw him off. Caelum struck again, splitting scales like leather.
It crashed into the forest, tearing trees from the ground.
Minotaurs closed in.
One brought its mace down where Caelum had stood.
The earth exploded.
But Caelum wasn’t there.
His blade flashed beneath the creature’s legs.
A cut.
The joint failed.
The giant fell roaring.
Caelum advanced.
Every movement was brief.
No flourishes.
Just efficiency.
Tendons severed.
Hearts pierced.
Necks opened.
Minotaurs fell like towers.
Lyra watched from the ridge where she had forced herself to remain.
And understood something terrible:
Caelum was not fighting them.
He was erasing them.
The third dragon descended in fury.
“Enough!” it roared. “I will destroy you myself!”
Its jaws opened.
The world turned white.
Flame engulfed the clearing.
Rocks melted.
Trees became ash.
Even from a distance, Lyra felt her skin burn.
Caelum walked through the inferno.
Heat distorted the air around him.
He did not stop.
And then the pressure intensified.
Not as force.
As will.
The fire began to fade.
Not from lack of fuel.
But because the world… stopped allowing it.
The dragon faltered.
“This…” it whispered, voice trembling for the first time. “This is not human.”
Caelum raised his sword.
The dragon retreated clumsily.
The surviving minotaurs hesitated.
Some stepped back.
Others looked to the sky for orders.
None came.
Only fear.
Caelum crossed the distance in an instant.
The dragon struck with a claw.
He blocked.
The impact split the ground, a crack racing toward Lyra.
Caelum turned.
Cut.
The claw fell.
The dragon roared.
It lunged.
Caelum slipped aside, drove his blade into its jaw and forced it downward.
The colossal neck strained.
Wings beat desperately.
Caelum climbed the neck like a wall.
One thrust.
Another.
Dark, scalding blood rained onto the leaves.
The dragon screamed.
“The Sin of Envy deceived us!” it roared. “You were not a target—you were—!”
Caelum reached the base of its skull.
The blade fell.
One cut.
The head separated.
The massive body collapsed, shaking the forest like an earthquake.
Silence.
Not peaceful.
Aftermath.
Smoke rose slowly.
Colossal bodies lay still.
The surviving minotaurs dropped their weapons and fled.
They fled without formation.
Like an army that had watched its gods die.
Caelum stood at the center of the devastation.
Breathing steady.
Posture calm.
But that immense presence still lingered in the air.
Lyra had not moved.
Her throat was dry.
Her heart racing.
Her eyes wide.
Caelum walked toward her.
With each step, the pressure receded.
Like a tide withdrawing.
When he stood two meters away, the air felt normal again.
Lyra swallowed.
“What… are you?” she asked.
Caelum sheathed his sword.
He looked at her with a calm that now felt unbearable.
“Someone who was never meant to exist.”
A chill ran down her spine.
“Then why… did you save me?” she asked, the question breaking out of her in something painfully human.
Caelum didn’t hesitate.
“Because you matter.”
Lyra stood frozen.
Smoke continued to rise.
In the distance, a war horn sounded—too late.
Human reinforcements approaching.
Caelum glanced toward the sound.
“We don’t have much time,” he said.
Lyra trembled.
“You’re going to explain.”
Caelum nodded.
“Yes.”
Then lowered his voice.
“But not here.”
Because somewhere far beyond that ruined forest, the Sin of Envy was already adjusting its strategy.
It was no longer about killing the infiltrator.
It was about surviving what had awakened.
Your support helps more than you imagine and truly makes a difference. ??
