Richard took a slow breath—then hissed as pain stabbed through his shoulder.
It wasn't just sore anymore. It felt like something inside was grinding every time he moved. He pressed his arm tighter against his side and forced himself to stay upright.
He was lucky that the ape's fangs didn't get him, instead it was just its flat teeth.
Ahead, the battlefield churned.
Through smoke and drifting ash, the horde kept coming. Large shapes pushed forward as too many eyes glowing through the haze.
"…One more round," Richard muttered, taking a step forward.
His leg almost gave out.
He froze, jaw tightening.
"…Okay," he corrected under his breath. "Maybe half a round."
He moved anyway.
Then—
Something cut through the chaos.
Low.
So low it didn't sound like noise at first. It felt like a vibration crawling up his spine, settling in his chest.
Richard paused.
"…What—"
The sound grew.
A horn.
Slowly, steadily, it rose from a whisper… to a distant call… and then into something massive. The air trembled. The ground answered. Even the beasts faltered, their snarls breaking into uneasy, confused growls.
Richard blinked. "…What is that?"
Beside him, the orc didn't react with surprise.
He just moved.
Two thick fingers hooked into the back of Richard's armor.
And suddenly—
Richard was off the ground.
"Hey—!"
His feet kicked uselessly in the air. He dangled there, swaying with every heavy step the orc took.
The orc had already turned away from the front line.
"Time to go, half-breed."
"Go where?!" Richard snapped, frowning as his body swung like luggage.
The horn sounded again. Louder and deeper.
It rolled across the battlefield like thunder, like something ancient calling everything to attention.
Before the orc could answer—
Another sound tore through the sky.
A roar.
Not like the beasts. Not like the horn.
This one was alive. Sharp. Powerful. It didn't just echo—it pressed down on everything beneath it.
The battlefield reacted.
Even the phoenix above shifted, its wide circle breaking as it gave space.
Richard twisted in the orc's grip, trying to see.
"…What now?"
From the rear of the army—
Something rose.
At first, it looked like a moving hill.
Then it unfolded.
Wings.
Massive. Silver. Each scale catching the light like polished steel.
A dragon.
A huge one.
It climbed into the sky with a single motion, towering over everything. Even from this distance, its size was overwhelming—larger than the phoenix that had dominated the sky moments ago.
Its wings beat once.
The air cracked.
Dust, ash, even broken weapons lifted from the ground and scattered outward. Richard felt it hit his face like a slap.
The phoenix cried sharply and veered away, circling wider now—careful, almost respectful.
Richard stared, mouth slightly open.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
The dragon raised its head and roared again.
This time, it sounded like a command.
The horn answered.
The army moved.
Not panic nor chaos.
It was a clean withdrawal. Lines pulling back in order, shields lifting, wounded dragged along. Even the demons in the air broke formation and cleared out of the dragon's path.
Richard blinked.
"…Oh."
He looked down at himself—mud-covered, bleeding, barely steady.
Then at the dragon.
Then at the retreating army.
"…We're leaving?"
The orc snorted.
"Not leaving. We are being replaced."
Richard frowned. "Replaced? What do you—"
He didn't finish.
From where the dragon rose—
Fire and ice rained.
A barrage of fireballs and sharp icicles streaked overhead and slammed into the horde. Explosions rippled through the beasts, tearing gaps into their advance.
Then came another army.
Five race unite in one, marching forward in formation. No demons this time. Clean armor. Steady steps. They moved past Richard like a wall, heading straight into the chaos.
Richard's eyes widened.
For a second, he really thought the battle was over.
Then—
The phoenix dove.
Straight toward them.
Richard's head snapped up. "Oh hell no."
He raised his arm, shielding his face as the light grew blinding, heat rushing toward him. One eye cracked open, just enough to see—
At the last second—
The flames vanished.
Where the phoenix should have struck—
A woman stood.
She held a sword loosely in one hand. Her crimson hair burned like controlled fire, short and bright. Crimson eyes swept across the battlefield, sharp and calm.
Then she sheathed her blade.
Her steps were slow. Measured. Confident. The kind of walk that didn't care about the war around it—like the war would adjust instead.
The orc tightened his grip slightly on Richard's armor.
"Do not stare too long, half-breed," he said. "If the Phoenix Princess notices you, she might burn you for it."
Richard didn't look away.
"…Wait," he said. "Her name is actually Phoenix Princess?"
The orc frowned.
He lifted Richard higher, bringing him face to face, studying him like something suspicious.
"You really do not know?"
Richard forced a small, awkward smile. "I… hit my head earlier. Hard. I think I forgot a lot. I only remember my name."
The orc stared at him for a moment.
Then snorted.
"Humans," he muttered. "So fragile."
"…Thanks," Richard said dryly.
The orc jerked his chin toward the woman.
"Her name is Minerva Ashborn. Princess of Opherius. Leader of the human army."
Richard followed his gaze.
Minerva didn't look like someone leading from behind. The space around her felt… different. Controlled. Like even the fire respected her.
Then the orc pointed toward the sky.
"That one," he said.
The silver dragon tore through the horde. Its claws ripped through wings and flesh alike, its fangs snapping beasts in half, and every sweep of its flaming breath left scorched gaps where enemies used to be.
"Aeltharion Thal'Vaeris," the orc continued. "King of the elves. Dragonkin. His mother was a dragon. His father was the former elven king."
Richard watched as the dragon dropped from the sky and crushed a massive beast under its weight. The ground shook from the impact, mud and blood splashing outward.
"…That's a strange combination," he said.
The orc nodded once. "It is."
Richard rubbed his chin, ignoring the dirt and dried blood on his fingers. "…How does that even work? A dragon and an elf having a baby?"
The orc glanced at him, unimpressed.
"Do not think too much," he said flatly. "You already forgot things. Thinking more might make it worse."
"…That's not how brains work," Richard muttered.
The orc shrugged slightly as he kept walking, still holding Richard off the ground like it required no effort at all.
"By the way," the orc added, "my name is Bignum."
Richard blinked. "…Bignum?"
"Yes."
Richard gave a small nod. "Alright. I'm Richard. But… people used to call me Dick."
The orc stopped walking.
For a second, the battlefield noise filled the silence between them.
Then the orc slowly looked down.
Not at Richard's face.
Lower.
Richard followed his gaze.
"…Oh, come on," Richard said, already tired.
The orc raised a brow. "You mean… that?"
Richard sighed. "Yes. Unfortunately, yes."
The orc nodded thoughtfully, like he had just learned something important.
"…Human names are strange," Bignum said.
"Tell me about it," Richard muttered, still dangling in the air as another explosion lit up the battlefield behind them.