The early afternoon sun shone intensely, like a god at the peak of its power.
"Watch me from there, if you're watching," Krarvathar thought as he ran and leaped across the dunes. His long gray hair whipped frantically. He could feel the sun's power in his body.
To Krarvathar, it seemed the sun had been affecting him ever since he had been transformed into a human. In one particularly high leap, he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh while suspended in the air. Only one day had passed since his form had changed, yet it felt like an eternity. He had adapted, but he missed it.
His vision no longer reached as far as when he was a dragon, but he could still see into the distance. He already sensed their arrival, and now he saw them:
Three flying creatures. Several elves atop them. Thswoner.
Krarvathar stopped after sliding down a dune. His gaze found a cluster of red rocks ten meters high. He decided quickly: with a single punch, the rocks were destroyed by the pressure of the air alone. Amid the thick dust, he easily grabbed a large piece of rock from the destruction.
He ran a few meters toward the enemies and hurled it, smiling, into the sky in their direction.
The two-meter rock was launched at impressive speed toward the middle wyvern, where Thswoner stood. The six elves on top of it leaped into the air toward the other two wyverns as the sand-winged creature was destroyed.
"Hahaha!" Krarvathar was excited. He clenched his fists, ran a short distance, bent his knees deeply, and jumped. The two sand wyverns carried twenty elves toward him, and he felt no fear. But his gaze was fixed on the elf he had fought before.
Krarvathar still had no clear idea of what he could or could not do in this human form. He was about twenty-five meters above the ground. He opened his arms, remembering them as his old wings, planning to dissipate the impact with the pressure of the wind.
Thswoner and Garhlieash leaped into the air, brandishing their swords toward Krarvathar.
The dragon, however, excited by the battle and by facing the elf he had sworn to kill, paid no attention to the other enemies and forgot about the abilities the elves had used against him in their last fight.
Because he was in the air with no support, he couldn't fully dodge when the magical currents made of harphesh wrapped around him, guided by the elves' golden arrows.
"Grr—" Krarvathar managed to disperse the side attacks, feeling that elven energy corroding his body. That moment of confusion was enough for Garhlieash to attack from above with his sword. Krarvathar protected himself with his forearm and felt pain: his arm was cut when the elf pulled the blade, which burst into flames.
That second of distraction caused by blood and fire was all Thswoner needed to drive the tip of his black khopesh into Krarvathar's chest. Even so, the dragon reacted instinctively upon feeling the blade.
Krarvathar finally smiled as he stared at the elf.
"Thswoner Khadiyel," Krarvathar pronounced. "I haven't forgotten you."
Their time in the air ended. The collision between their bodies halted their momentum, and the ground pulled them downward.
"I said I would kill you," the elf replied, pushing the blade deeper into the dragon's chest with a subtle smile on his lips.
To their surprise, Krarvathar thrust his arm forward, striking Garhlieash's side. The elf defended himself but was thrown far away.
At the same moment, Krarvathar swung the same arm toward Thswoner, but the elf blocked it with his own limb, surprising the dragon.
They fell. Thswoner, aided by gravity, tried to drive the blade even deeper into Krarvathar's body. The dragon attacked with his knees, but Thswoner dodged to the side.
Kravarthar seized the opportunity and spun his body in the same direction, surprising Thswoner, who had no choice but to pull the blade back and retreat.
Finally, they hit the ground. Thswoner landed on his feet on the dunes, as did Krarvathar. A little dust rose, but it did not prevent them from seeing each other.
"Blood…" Krarvathar brought his hand — the same cut arm — to his chest and stared at the puncture. He felt no pain, only a strange sensation. But he had no time to rest.
Thswoner had already advanced from the front, and Garhlieash, who had fallen farther away, was already coming from behind.
"Die!" the blond elf shouted, swinging his curved golden-edged blade in a sideways attack.
Krarvathar charged toward Garhlieash with blinding speed. He would have dodged the attack and grabbed him if other arrows with chains from the elves on the wyverns hadn't pulled his arm back.
That gave the burly elf the chance to twist his blade and slash the side of Krarvathar's abdomen. Before the dragon could regain his balance, he felt the cut. Garhlieash retreated as Krarvathar roared loudly like a beast, swinging his arm to grab him.
Thswoner then drove the blade into Krarvathar's back, aiming toward the heart.
"You bastard!" The dragon spun in a powerful attack against the black-haired elf, but Garhlieash kicked the back of his shin, unbalancing him.
Krarvathar hit only air, and Thswoner buried the blade into the side of his stomach.
Another growl, more blood. Krarvathar was losing control. His chest heaved nonstop. Anger was building inside him. Arrows struck his shoulders. The elves gave him no rest.
"Am I... going to die?," he thought. In that instant he spun instinctively, but he was slower. Thswoner and Garhlieash cut him several more times, dodging and striking the dragon's blind spots. Their goal was simple: to kill. Nothing more.
The dragon's gaze then turned toward the sun as he slid down a large dune. He looked at the god the pharaoh worshipped.
His body was heavily cut and covered in blood. With a difficult sigh, he screamed. The sound came out as it should: a great dragon's roar that hurled the elves away, raising sand and dust and leaving him in the center of a large crater amid the dunes.
Thswoner and Garhlieash glanced at each other as they stopped at the top of a sand hill and signaled with their fingers for the elves on the wyverns to pull back and circle from above.
"Let's go," said the blond elf, gripping his blade firmly. "He's already dead. Let's cut off his head."
"Let's go!" Thswoner knew this was the moment. The enemy would have no chance. He was not someone to negotiate with, nor something to underestimate. He was a creature of chaos that needed to die.
Krarvathar stood still, breathing deeply. The elves saw their opportunity against the weakened foe. Garhlieash went first, sliding behind him in a clean attack.
The dragon, with unusual speed for his current condition, dodged and easily disarmed the elf. With his other hand, he grabbed his neck and threw him into the sand.
Thswoner was already there to save his friend, but his sideways attack was also useless. Krarvathar had switched the hand holding Garhlieash and used it to grab the khopesh, stopping the general's strike.
The dragon managed to land a kick to the elf's stomach, sending him flying, but stealing the sword in the process. Garhlieash tried to get up and retreat, but Krarvathar twisted the blade and drove it into his belly. The elf groaned in pain.
"One… less," Krarvathar smiled.