The air crackled; the electricity charged the wind, making it shocking to the touch, able to electrify the lungs of any that stood too close to the Dragonheart as the volatile element coiled around his body.
What released in an instant, manifesting with the speed and ferocity of lightning descending from the skies, was a burst of the volatile, electric element that erupted with the shape of a whisker-bearing dragon. Its roars were that of thunder; the invocation of grand storms as it shot through the darkness like a beacon of hope.
The hiss of lightning echoed like the call of a great chirping of birds, invoking a shine throughout the abyssal setting as the draconic burst of lightning slammed through the Primordial aspect.
"Nngh–!" Emilio guided the magecraft.
Lifting his arms, he controlled the direction of the dragon-shaped charge of lightning, snatching the silent entity in its jaws and dragging it upward. The scale of the esoteric magic surpassed that of the great walls of massive cities, leaving a trail of lightning bolts as it ascended upward.
Excelsior witnessed the magecraft that surpassed the boundaries of just expertise, bordering on total mastery that would take a lifetime to achieve. The silver-haired woman watched from below, having to partially shield her eyes from the blinding shine of the unstable element.
'Ash-boy…He sure is a wild one, isn't he?' Excelsior thought.
"Nnnahhh…!" Emilio strained himself.
He could feel the aspect resisting the jaws of the volatile magecraft, corrupting the stability of the spell with each moment; the miasmic darkness that the aspect exuded crept through the electric form of the spell, resonating with a pain through the caster's body.
A coating of liquid darkness began to spread from his fingertips down his arms, causing his muscles to contract and cramp, embedded with a dark agony.
'It's hurting me…through my own spell?!' He thought.
Perhaps it was a side-effect of his own shortcomings within the element of lightning; a branch of magecraft that tested even his genius understanding of the art, though it was undeniable he had to trigger the spell or the darkness would continue spreading to him.
'Go…!' He commanded.
With a squeeze of his fist, dispelling the abyssal ooze that had eaten through his scale gauntlets, he commanded the gargantuan jaws of lightning to release into a chain reaction of electrical fallouts.
An array of lightning bolts shot out in each direction, coiling through the misty airs of the underground seal like trails of sublime light, cascading downward before jolting in each angle. It was a storm of electricity; a rain of sparks that created an uninhabitable range in its scope as the air sizzled and sparked.
In the center of it all, caught in a tree-like construct of eradicating fulmination was the entity itself; even the abundant darkness it dragged with its very existence was suppressed by the flashing lights.
"Do it–! Don't let up, Emilio-boy!" Excelsior called out.
The reach of the jagged bolts repeatedly struck down against the shallow sea, electrifying the water and causing chaotic ripples through its boundaries. A magnificent storm of destruction that–
Silence.
Like a deep breath being inhaled by the void, light was sucked away; the strands of lightning were swept into nothing as only darkness expanded.
Swiftly, there was nothing–not a single sound that echoed through the vast domain–not even the subtle sways of water, the brushes of groaning wind, or the breathing of another.
'What happened…?' He questioned.
In this total darkness, he found himself alone; it was beyond any obscurity made by mist–it was simply a darkness so overwhelming that sight could not pierce through it. Lifting his hands in front of his face, he found that not even mere inches in front of him he was able to see.
Looking in each direction, he called out, "Excelsior!"
There was no response, only finding his voice carried away into the darkness. Even summoning a flame for light wasn't enough as he watched the fire be swallowed up and overwhelmed by the darkness as it sat on his hand.
As his mind was flooded with confusion and indecisiveness, the unruly form of his armor shattered, crumbling away as he breathed heavily. The strain of tapping into his alternate system path was felt throughout his aching muscles as he stood amidst the abyss.
'What did it do? This is different from before–it feels wrong,' he questioned.
He felt like a fish out of water, left alone in the vast nothingness without any sense of what was around him.
pαndα-noνɐ1,сoМ "...Haaaah…"
A delicate sound that made his skin crawl trickled against his ear; like the soft moan of a woman, grazing upon skin as he could almost feel the presence of lips just behind his ear, creating a ticklish sensation on the left side of his body.
He spun around to confront this unknown voice, though found nothing as his boots slapped against the thin layer of water.
"Ethan–"
The growly voice of a man met his right ear, causing him to flip around, once more finding nothing after the call of his old name:
"--Bellrose!"
A yell, almost akin to a shriek of a woman, rang against his ear as his abandoned name was once more heard through the darkness, trickling down his skin as an intangible ickiness. He had spun around with his sword in hand, swinging it against nothing but empty darkness.
'What is this? I can't sense anything–no mana signatures, no Soulbound Spirits–nothing,' he thought.
Pushed into a corner, deprived of his senses and unable to gain information through sight or magic, he focused his right eye, intending to spend a minuscule portion of his life to view into the unshakable truth.
Just as he activated the dormant power within his eye, the scenery around him shifted; the total darkness removed itself, instead revealing a vast, white space as he found himself suddenly falling.
"Nngh–?!"
It was far too jarring, to suddenly be falling even though he had never moved a single step. He waved his arms before gaining control of himself with wind magic for flight, though he found himself standing against flooring somehow.
He was upside down; standing on a floor made out of blood that rained downward. Somehow, he wasn't falling despite his wind magic being out of use.
"Huh?"
The very moment he questioned it, the world flipped around as he was no longer upside down, standing on the endless, shallow pool of blood as it rained–upward. There was no sight of the woman he fought alongside or the entity itself around; only a blank, white void filled with the reverse rain of crimson liquid.
'An illusionary attack? Or did it pull me somewhere else entirely? No, going off of how it happened…This should be an illusion–probably,' he guessed.
Even if he could rationalize it to be an illusionary world he had been trapped into, there was no doubt it felt real in every sense; the cold air on his skin, the smell of copper that flooded his nose, and the repulsive sounds that formed around him.
The slimy, gooey noises came from the pool of bright, abundant blood as humanoid shapings of the substance rose like zombies from the mud.
"...Hm," he glanced around.
[Dragonheart System Activated]
[Current Stage: 2/10 | Dragon Son]
As his amethyst eyes turned to an azure when tapping into the surface of his system, he relied only on the second stage, wanting to conserve his stamina as much as he could–or what was left of it after using the monstrous form before.
What he thought were sludges of blood were something else; it was merely a coating that covered pitch-black skeletons, which seemed burnt down to a char.
'Minions?' He thought.
Whether or not what he found himself in was an illusionary entrapment, there was no point in risking that question with his life–even then, an illusionary world could be just as consequential as the real one. In that regard, even a false reality could harm him.
In one hand, he wielded his trust sword, and in his left, he manifested his unique flames, solidifying them into a greatsword with his skill–["Flame Hardening"], creating a high-temperature, azure blade.
'If I can help it, I need to refrain from thoughtlessly using spells. A battle against an Aspect more often than not turns into a war of attrition. They're nigh unkillable, which means I need to stay that way, too. That means I'll need an abundance of mana for healing magic and reinforcement,' he planned.
As the stygian-boned skeletons approached him, he spun around with his dual blades, unleashing a ring of fire from his flame-forged sword as it shattered the approaching fiends.
He dashed through a group of them, breaking through their sluggish gathering and shattering the enigmatic undead swiftly.
Though they were easy to cut through, he witnessed their crumbled forms alter in mid air; the broken bones gathered with a deathly air before rebuilding into skeletons once more. Upon being reborn, the black skeletons multiplied—upon killing one, two more were rebuilt in their place.
"Of course," he tiredly muttered upon noticing this development.
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