Chapter 642: Sovereign...?
Samira laughed loudly, spinning her fiery spear in circles, scattering sparks that crackled through the air. "Then you're in luck," she said, her voice thick with malice, "because you won't be facing just one."
She advanced like a wild dance, her spear slicing through the air in flames. The leader raised his blade to defend himself, but the impact of Samira's weapon nearly knocked the sword from his grasp. Flames engulfed his body, burning through his leather armor like paper. He screamed, staggering back, trying to extinguish the consuming fire.
But Strax was faster. He raised his hand, and the golden energy flowing from his body condensed into invisible claws. In one jerk, the leader's body was dragged toward him, pinned by a crushing force.
The man struggled, screaming in pain, his bones cracking under the pressure. His eyes met Strax's—and there was nothing but the reflection of an immortal beast.
"You dared to burn... before me." Strax's voice was low, but each word carried the weight of molten iron. "For that, you will die like ashes in the wind."
With a sharp movement, he smashed the leader's body against the stone floor. The impact reverberated throughout the square, cracking the stones and raising dust mixed with blood.
Silence.
The rest of the mercenaries froze, some already dropping their weapons to the ground. Others trembled, not daring to step forward.
Samira stood beside Strax, cleaning her spear, still glowing with embers. She cast a predatory look at the survivors, her red eyes flashing. "Well, what about you?" he asked sarcastically. "Will you keep feigning courage... or will you run like real rats?"
No one answered. One by one, the mercenaries began to retreat, then to run. The square filled with the sound of boots hitting stone, the echo of a desperate escape.
Hadrian, still atop the cart, watched with wide eyes. The merchant, who had always dealt in gold, spices, and agreements, had never imagined witnessing something so absolute. This wasn't just strength—it was dominance. As if Strax and Samira didn't belong to this world, but another, where gods walked unchallenged.
The boy who had brought them was still kneeling, his mouth open in shock, unable to utter a word.
Strax looked at Hadrian, dusting his hands as if he had just crushed nothing more than an insect. "Your city is safe... for now." His voice carried such weight it sounded like a sentence. "But if you want it to remain standing, you'll need more than words."
Hadrian took a deep breath, stepping down from the cart. Even in the face of that overwhelming presence, he maintained his firm posture. He approached and, in a bold gesture, bowed in respect, but without kneeling.
"Then teach me." His voice didn't tremble. "If that's what it takes to protect Kaelthur, teach me to resist."
Samira arched an eyebrow in surprise, before letting out a light laugh. "Brave. I like him."
Strax stared at him silently for a few seconds, as if weighing the man's worth. And then, with a cold, predatory smile, he replied:
"Very well, merchant. You asked for fire. Let's see if you can survive the flames."
Hadrian felt sweat trickle down his temple, but he didn't back down. There was a vast difference between him and those two—a difference that couldn't be bridged by training, gold, or titles. Yet, there was something in his posture that wouldn't break. He was facing monsters... and yet he chose to remain standing.
Samira shouldered her spear, her red eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "He's stubborn." Her voice held an almost amused tone. "Maybe it's even worth playing with him a little."
Strax narrowed his golden eyes, assessing the man. "Stubbornness can be a virtue... or a burden." He took a step forward, making the stone beneath his feet crack slightly, and stared intently at Hadrian. "If I set you on fire now, will you scream and beg for your life?"
Hadrian swallowed hard, but answered without hesitation: "Maybe I'll scream. Maybe it'll hurt. But beg? Never."
The silence that followed was broken by Strax's deep chuckle. He tilted his head, baring his fangs. "Hah. Insolent. Just the way I like it."
Samira laughed too, moving closer to Hadrian. She tilted her face, her red eyes glinting dangerously, and ran a finger along the burned collar of his shirt. "If you survive what he'll demand of you, perhaps Kaelthur still has salvation." The tip of her glowing nail left a mark on the fabric, but didn't touch skin. "But if you falter... you'll be just more ash to the wind."
The boy, still kneeling beside the cart, finally managed to stammer, "M-Mister Hadrian... perhaps... perhaps it's best..."
"Be quiet," Hadrian interrupted, raising his hand without even looking at the boy. His tone was hard, firm. "I didn't ask you to come to them in cowardice. I asked you to seek help, and you succeeded. Now it's my turn to prove myself worthy."
Strax watched him silently. Every word the merchant said seemed to reinforce his judgment. Finally, he spoke, "Very well. If you're going to walk under my fire, you'll have to learn not to fear being burned."
He turned to the devastated square, where civilians were beginning to emerge from their hiding places—frightened families, men with buckets of water, women carrying children. Everyone was staring at the scene, at Hadrian standing before them, and at the Scarlet Hand mercenaries fleeing in disarray.
"Look." Strax pointed toward them with his chin. "These are your people. Weak, fragile, but still alive. They look to you and expect more than goods and coins. If you can't raise your hand for them, others will come... and make this just another pile of ash."
Hadrian followed the dragon's gaze. His heart sank, but the flame in his eyes didn't dim. "Then show me how to raise that hand."
Samira smiled, satisfied. "Love, I think the merchant just asked to be burned."
Strax crossed his arms, studying Hadrian once more. "Not today." He raised his hand toward the sky, and a wave of golden energy spread across the square. The flames devouring the nearest houses shuddered, twisting as if obeying his will, before extinguishing with a sharp crack, leaving only smoke and smoldering embers.
The inhabitants stared in shock. To them, it seemed as if the dragon-man had tamed the very fire of the city.
"Today, you and your people breathe my decision." Strax turned back to Hadrian, the cold smile remaining on his lips. "If you want more than that... you'll have to walk the path of flames."
Samira ran her hand through her husband's arm, bowing slightly. "And we'll be watching."
Hadrian took a deep breath, feeling the weight of it. He knew there was no turning back. But he also knew that if he didn't accept it, Kaelthur would fall—and him with it.
"Then so be it," he said firmly. "I will walk in this fire."
...A few moments earlier, while Samira and Strax were talking, following the boy...
"I think I'll act like a sovereign or something, but a very flashy one," Strax said mentally to Samira, who was hugging his arm.
"Hm? Why?" she questioned.
"Just looking at this kid, you can tell... We're in a very, very poor place. We're probably far from the Capital; I believe the farther away, the weaker the place becomes. If this city were strong, it wouldn't burn so easily..." Strax commented.
"I see... that's a good analysis, although I don't think things are quite so black and white. But let's do it your way."