Serendipity (Veldora x TBATE)

Veldora isn't dumb. 

Sure, he might act like it sometimes, but Veldora is a still a True Dragon. A spirit of the world bearing will. A pillar of existence—a sustaining force. That's why, walking with the moon following him above in the middle of a dense snowy forest a tad bit away from camp, Veldora felt like something was amiss. It might be because he's unusually sharp even amongst the dragons due to his unique skill, but while his sisters might deny it, Veldora is in fact the most perceptive of the dragon family. 

"Something's wrong, I can feel it," Veldora mutters, forcing himself to sound serious. 

"Are you sure you're not delirious?" Sylvie's draconic form leaned beside him, skeptical of believing whatever premonition Veldora was up to. 

"Little one, you can do better than doubt one such as I. If I say so, then it is." 

"Fine. Then what is this grave predicament that your so-called mighty self foresees?" 

"That shit's dripping with sarcasm. I'd prefer it if you shut your little mouth up." 

"What a change in language," saying this, Sylvie then transformed into mini-Sylvie and hopped atop Veldora's head. They've gotten close enough that Veldora didn't mind. Still, Sylvie didn't know his status as a dragon. No one in this world does. 

"What about Arthur?" 

"Don't talk about him. He's drunk. I'll take care of him later." 

"Mkay." 

The night sky turned from a navy blue to pitch black. Clouds obscured the crescent moon and the two dragons continued surveying in boredom until the sun rose from the horizon. Roosters began crowning and the soldiers on standby the whole night finally had their rest with the shifts. 

What a lovely morning. 

Just then, the sounds of marching sent birds leaping off trunks and off into the skies. Thousands upon thousands of footsteps made their way to the cliff near the camp. It was a division that was to join Vanesy Glory's own division, led by a captain Veldora did not bother to remember. The entire division stayed there for hours and during this point in time, Sylvie was already by Arthur's side. Veldora, meanwhile, still surveyed the terrain in boredom from the sky. 

And then it clicked. 

"I gotcha," he mutters as he put on a bewitching and somewhat sadistic smirk. From the woods behind the newly arrived division, came soldiers of different bearing. They wore different uniforms, but are humans all the same. 

The Alacryans that Veldora had been anticipating all night. 

Battle immediately began between the Dicathean and Alacryan forces. After assessing the situation for a little while—and a couple dozen deaths—Veldora shot up a fireball into the sky. It exploded like a flare and was meant as a signal for Lance Arthur Leywin. After shooting his flare, he turned his gaze into the camp down below the cliff. Vanesy Glory's division was already scrambling into formation. 

He teleported himself beside Vanesy and Arthur. 

"Yo." 

"Sir!" Both Vanesy and Arthur called out. 

"I have an inkling that the dwarves know about this," he said as he drank an untouched coffee from a nearby table. "I mean, I annihilated an entire division of Alacryans that marched from the Dwarves' domain a few days back. This is strictly confidential information that only the council members know about it." 

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked. 

"About how the Alacryans sneaked up on us from behind, without any trace of arriving from the seas." 

"Ah," Vanesy's eyes lit up. "T-Then, are you suggesting the dwarves have betrayed us?" 

"Nah. Not all. At least I hope so. Besides, I can't intervene much, Arthur. Someone's onto me, so it's got to be you to lead them over there." 

"Someone's onto you? You mean someone's here to specifically target you?" 

"No shit," Veldora finished and flew instantly to the cloudy sky. His figure vanished from sight. Snow pellets dropped onto the battlefield washed by blood and corpse. A carpet of snow, a blanket of white enveloping the world was stained by a shade of deep crimson—of velvet. Vanesy, seeing off Veldora with a bead of sweat dripping down her forehead, failed to stop her thoughts from being blurted out. "Do you think… the Warlord was responsible?" 

At her words, countless heads turned. The soldiers on formation waiting for their turn to march to the cliff, those tasked with technical support, and Lance Arthur himself. They all collectively turned their heads to Vanesy Glory as an eerie silence descended upon the space. The only other sounds were the agonizing screams and primitive war cries that echoed from the distance. 

"Vanesy…" Arthur began as he put a hand on her shoulder. His grip tightened. "That's not something you can just say and still live to tell the tale." Arthur had a very serious and threatening tone that shocked even Vanesy. "That could easily get you killed." he whispered. Then, he turned his gaze to the soldiers who were still in disbelief after what their captain said. "No one heard a thing, understand? Now snap yourselves into focus and march. I'll be seeing you up there." 

At the words of a Lance, the soldiers finally regained their focus and a somewhat grim determination plastered across all their faces. They all looked forward with anxious anticipation on the battle to come. A battle where they might not leave alive. 

——— 

Staring at the battle down below, Veldora was on guard. Something ticked him off and it wasn't the appearance of the Alacryans this deep into the continent of Dicathen. Veldora sat upon a makeshift cloud chair, its soft made-tangible surface glowing a bright gold. Due to the nature of his powers—of how destructive he can be—he cannot interfere in battles as freely as Arthur Leywin. One wrong move and he could annihilate the armies of both ally and enemy. 

So, Veldora settled in the sky as a silent observer. He's only here in the event the "worst-case scenario" happens. And that worst-case scenario is as exaggerated as Virion's overthinking, mainly, the enemy generals coming into the scene. 

"In all my years as a destroyer," Veldora muttered. "Of violence. It was always personal," he added as he turned around. Standing there, was General Aldir. His usual obsidian garments were gone and were replaced by a twilight-colored battle armor and in his hand was a pure-silver glowing rapier. His two eyes, usually closed, were open and revealed lavender eyes that paired with the larger third eye on his forehead. He truly looked like a battle angel. 

"But now, I'll tell you. I'm going to kill you, and it's not because it's what I want, no, it's because it's what I need to do." Despite his words, Veldora was smiling. This was a task that didn't warrant his wants, but his responsibility. "It is my obligation. My responsibility. After all, I am this continent's warlord. And you're going to die for me." 

"Obnoxious, childish, hypocritical," Aldir replied. "You talk like you truly care for this continent. You're just a lustful psychopath who wields power for excitement and has no moral compass whatsoever. 

"Ah, I wouldn't get it that twisted, sumbitch. But still, it's funny, isn't it? For some reason, I always felt like between you and me, it was going to end like this." 

"Hohoho. How romantic of you to think of me that far. Are you finished? I have a task given to me by my lord. Your life is forfeit, Veldora." 

"Is that so? It's a pity but otherwise perfect. Just as long as we're both in agreement." 

With that as the final words, General Aldir of Epheotus and Warlord Veldora of Dicathen faced off eight-thousand meters up into the sky. A tense silence descended upon the two of them as the world prepared itself for a clash of deities. 

——— 

Arthur Leywin felt compelled to know the enemy battle tactics. Standing still above the corpse of a random Alacryan soldier, he activated his Realmheart and began surveying all around him with accelerated perception speed. Every speck of mana and their workings were laid bare in front of his blue eyes now turned lavender. From the enemy's singular spell set functions, to how there seemed to be a unit of three Alacryans who always stick together. 

Bingo, Arthur thought with great clarity. Each Alacryan unit of three were composed of an Attacker, a Defender, and a Conjured. Offense, defense, and support. But Arthur felt confused over one thing. 

"Why do each of them have only a single spell? Or a single function of their spells?" Arthur didn't know. An attacker only has offensive spells, often one spell only even. A defender only has barrier spells. The same goes for conjurers, the long-distance support of both defenders and attackers. They're the complete opposite of Dicatheans, who practice a wide variety of spell-sets that vary in function, potency, and power. 

A Dicathean is more versatile, but since Alacryans are focused on their single spells, they are able to achieve many times greater the power and efficiency when performing those spells. 

Arthur stopped pondering and chopped off the head of an Alacryan soldier trying to charge at him. In a bloody descent, he dashed from soldier to soldier, bisecting one head after another and left corpses in his wake. By this point, he had sent Sylvie away onto a side-mission to discover more about where the Alacryans came from. That's why he's fighting alone. But just as he took down his thirtieth victim, a sudden explosion of such immese electrifying energy stung his nerves. 

"What!?" Arthur looked up in a hurry, clear alert in his eyes. Far above the sky where the dark gray clouds loomed over, there were traces of an intense explosion. Lightning crackled in violent tendrils of gold and purple, and the power of the electrical explosion was so intense that it gave the soldiers fighting below an episode of electrical shock strong enough to paralyze them for a whole five seconds. 

"Who's he fighting?" Arthur asked himself. Then, he remembered Veldora's words. He said he was limited in what he can do to interfere. "Was he referring to this? A strong enemy that was hiding?" 

Arthur's wheat-colored hair from using Realmheart waved in front of his eyes. There was a shift in the air of the entire battlefield. Not just the one by the transcendent battle Veldora was currently fighting, but due to another eminent doom far away into the snowy wasteland. 

Vanesy, having just stabbed an Alacryan soldier, rushed to Arthur's side. "Do you feel that?" 

Arthur didn't respond and just looked into the distant snowy fog. "Get your men and fall back." 

"B-But!" 

"That's an order, Vanesy." 

Vanesy was about to refuse, but the intense and unusually commanding stare of Arthur was enough to shut even her up. It's ironic, really. Someone as young as Arthur being capable of such rational and pragmatic judgments—just as a general of war should. 

Vanesy tugged at her bond's wings. "You better get back alive. Or I'll pull you out of hell myself." 

"Haha." 

"All Dicathen units! Retreat!" 

Just as the Dicathen forces began retreating, Arthur dashed into the dense forest. The snow storm has intensified and was limiting visibility more and more. It looked like the world had gone white. Jumping from one tree branch to another, Arthur came to a stop. 

Sylvie? No response. Just then, a slight vibration in the air made Arthur turn his head right. Nothing. Then another vibration behind him. Arthur turned his head again, but there was still nothing. 

"Aren't you a pretty boy?" 

Arthur hurriedly turned around and conjured pale blue flames in the shape of a spear. Then, he threw it to where he thought was the source of the voice. The flaming spear pierced through the hazy snow and vanished deep into the woods, hitting nothing. Arthur tensed and looked around. 

Swish. 

Sounds resounded from nearby bushes and trees, jumping to the branches and dropping to the rocks. It's fast, Arthur thought. Then as he turned his head right, he saw a hideous mask mere inches from his face. Arthur jumped as high as he could and threw a barrage of elemental attacks at the being. But as the smoke and dust dissipated, there was nothing. Only countless small craters. 

"You'll be my dildo!" The voice, much creepier and more intense this time, came rushing from his left. Arthur hurriedly switched on Realmheart and tried to avoid the attack, but it was almost too late. Its gaseous acidic green liquid reached Arthur and his arms' skins burned painfully. A couple droplets reached the large tree he was standing on and Arthur was appalled at the sight of that tree, after having received not even three small drops of acid, crumbling down to its roots. 

You've got to be kidding me. 

"Are you a scythe?" Arthur asked, fully flabbergasted at the strength of such a being. 

"Scythe? Who do you think those punks are? Ah, yes, that woman. Just because she's a little pretty and petite, she thinks she can order me around!? No, no, no, no! Fuck no! I'll fucking rip her guts out and dance around with her intestines tied to my hair!" 

The mention of a Scythe seemed to have heavily ticked off the being, which Arthur now assumes to be a retainer. The words that came out of its mouth were not child-friendly and so was her looks. If this is a retainer, then how strong are the scythes? Arthur shuddered at the thought as his practiced calm façade faltered. 

Can I beat it? Arthur questioned himself as the retainer's aura flared in anger. Acid splashed all across the battle space, dissolving everything it came into contact with; from small rocks to large boulders, from mounds to small hills and entire trees. Arthur tugged at his left chest, trying to suppress the pain that came from overusing Realmheart. He took a deep, long breath and concentrated. Grasping his trusted sword, Dawn's Ballad, he propelled himself using wind blasts and lit the air with blue fire. Just as the retainer prepared to attack, Arthur already reached it. Its mask broke and Arthur came face to face with the most hideous amalgamation of unharmonized facial features he had ever seen. 

"What the hell?"