A Strongest Warrior Of All Time

The evening wind blew gently across the hill as Luther and John still sat in the grass. The sunset color was fading into dusk, and the world was bathed in shades of purple and dark orange. They were through with training, their bodies tired, but their minds sharper than ever.

John brushed a bit of dirt from his knees and sat back on his hands. "You see, Luther… when I read that book, I felt like I was cradling the very soul of our ancestors in my arms. Every page contained the voices of warriors hundreds of years ago. It was like they were watching me, challenging me."

Luther tilted his head to one side. "Challenging you? How?"

John's eyes darkened. "The book is not just a record. It answers. When I first came into contact with it, the pages shimmered with strange symbols. The writing shifted, like a living thing, and a voice whispered… ordering me to become strong enough to carry the breath of our line."

Luther shivered at the concept. A living book, tied together by the will of ancestors and warriors, was something he could scarcely imagine.

"What else did it teach you?" Luther asked, his voice low.

John drew a slow breath. "It taught me the secret of transformation. The old warriors were able to merge their breath with their bodies, transforming themselves for battle. Some grew claws like knives, others hardened their skin like armor. It was more than human—it was as though they borrowed the nature of beasts."

Transformation." Luther repeated, the word heavy on his lips. "Like changing into something else entirely."

John nodded. "Yes. My father explained it to me once he achieved his first transformation during the great war years ago. It was Gidora who taught him, imparting his Fire Breath until Father's own body could hammer it into strength. If not for that, our village would have burned under enemy blades."

Luther's head spun. To think that Eric, whom he had ever respected as a lord, had fought with a dragon—no, with the gift of a dragon—stirred an awe-producing and yet terrible something in him.

But John was not through. His voice lowered again, an almost whisper that was nearly conspiratorial. "There's more, Luther. The book spoke of enemies our people once feared above all. Not beasts. Not demons. Not even dragons. It was the Vampires.".

Luther's eyes went wide. "The same ones who used Acid Breath?"

"Yes," John confirmed, his face grim. "They were monsters in human skin. They walked in the darkness, pretending to be people, but hunting every night. Having drained their victims of blood, they employed Acid Breath to eliminate all evidence. Villages vanished without a trace, entire lineages ended in silence.".

A cold shiver ran through Luther's body. He hugged his knees to his chest, as if to protect himself from the darkness within John's words. "If they were so powerful, how were they defeated?"

John's eyes gleamed with pride. "The Warrior Lords. They, along with the Magician Lords, waged a great war against the Vampires. Gidora himself joined them, lending his flames to burn their nests to ashes. It was the only way to wipe them out. That's why they're all but exterminated now—rare, in hiding, beaten."

All but exterminated. The words rang in Luther's ears like a warning.

John, noticing him quiet, spoke quickly, "Don't worry. Father says the remaining Vampires are too weak to come back to life again. They're mere shadows of what they once were."

However, Luther could not help but envision pale beings, sucking blood under moonlight, their Acid Breath corroding all that remained.

To distract himself, he asked, "And the transformations… would they also employ breath?

John, his eyes shining with excitement. "Yes! That's the true danger. Some Vampires had learned to integrate their Acid Breath into their bodies. Their claws dripped poison, which could consume armor. Their touch could burn flesh. That's why the Warrior Lords had to fight them with everything, even sacrificing lives, to wipe them out.".

The concept stunned Luther. Even as children, he and John were catching sight of the vast, brutal past that shaped their world. And though he did not realize it yet, one day his own fate would cross paths with these old horrors.

John sighed and dropped backwards into the grass, staring up at the sky as it darkened. "Sometimes I wonder… if I'll ever be deserving of that book. If I can truly inherit my father's Fire Breath. Or if I'll be a boy forever pretending to be strong."

Luther glanced at him, eyes steady. "You'll be more than strong. You'll be a lord like your father, maybe even better."

John laughed deep in his throat. "And what about you, Luther? You're always telling me you're a farmer's son. But I can feel it—you're not ordinary. There's something in you, something hidden."

Luther tensed. For a moment, he felt naked, as if John could see the strange energy running far back in his blood—the energy of magician and warrior blood. But he forced a smile. "Maybe I'm stubborn."

John laughed, turning onto his side. "Stubbornness is good. That's what keeps us alive."

The boys were quiet once more, gazing up at the first stars breaking through the twilight sky. Far away, a wolf cried out, and night crept closer over the land.

Finally, John whispered, almost to himself, "One day, we'll change the world. You and me, side by side."

Luther did not respond, but internally his heart burned with the knowledge John was telling the truth. Their fates were entwined—tied by secrets, dragons, and powers yet to be released.

The crickets began their chirping, and the air grew cooler. Luther rose to his feet, brushing grass from his tunic. "We should return before our fathers grow concerned."

John also stood, gripping his wooden sword tightly. "Tomorrow then. Same hill, same practice."

Luther smiled, nodding. "Tomorrow."

As they walked back to the village, the last rays of the sun dropped below the horizon, leaving only shadows. Neither boy noticed the faint movement in the woods nearby, nor the two red eyes watching from the darkness.

For though they believed the time of Vampires was at an end, something old still lingered—waiting, patient, and hungry.

And this feel makes them curious but it's time to going home they are late as always but suddenly.....