NOVEL NEXT Chapter 43: The Strongest
His father was already moving, not giving them a second to get their bearings. This was a fucking fight and he wasn't going to let up for a second. The ground shook, waves recoiling from the force of the Hero From Another World as he surged forward like a cannonball made of muscle, steel, and wrath. His sword cleaved through the mist, the weight of it enough to crush bone, to tear through him with no mercy.
He was coming straight for Lukas. But still, Lukas did not react. Rodan did. With a bellow that cracked the water like lightning, the Divinity of the Seas erupted in a glowing column beneath him. The water moved faster than the eye could track. A wall of living ocean lifted Lukas just in time, shoving him back as Rodan met the strike mid-air with his elbow, metal to scale, blade against the Robes.
The Robes of the Lord. The only legacy that Rodan possessed. Surprisingly, it held up against the attack but the pain was clear on the dragon's expression. Rodan would not be able to take many more of those strikes straight on, not if he wanted to keep his arm. The shockwave from their collision shattered the surface of the sea into geysers.
CRACK!
A sonic boom followed, rippling for miles. Rodan gritted his teeth and blades of water shot up, acting as his choice of weaponry. The Hero pressed down, unrelenting. Sword and claw were locked in a dead heat, a frenzy of movement. The solidified water breaking and reforming with each swing of the Hero's sword. And that's when Lukas understood one thing about the fight unravelling before his eyes. Rodan wasn't fighting to survive. In fact, he wasn't simply fighting just to protect Lukas from an untimely death. He was fighting to kill.
This wasn't self-defense. This wasn't protection. This was vengeance. The rage in Rodan's eyes made that clear. A rage greater than the one that had appeared when he had realized he'd lost the last ten years of his life because of a trick of the mind. Because the man he was facing—the man Julien had once called his father—was also the same man who had driven his blade through the heart of Lord Jaren Drakos.
The Lady Kaitlyn's husband. Selene of Dawn's lover. Lukas' father.
But above all, Lord Jaren had been Rodan's father.
Lukas's mind spun. He should have been fighting alongside Rodan, helping him overcome the man who'd taken the late Lord's life during the Great War. But he didn't. In fact, he could only watch as the two beings clashed. He couldn't raise a claw against the man he had once idolized, the man who'd taught him how to fight, how to stand tall, how to laugh in the face of pain.
Jakob Fronterra had been his hero. Now he had become Nozar's Hero. The Hero From Another World. All Lukas could hear were the fragments of old memories—the sound of waves crashing against the deck of their fishing boat, a younger version of himself laughing as Jakob hoisted a net full of silverfish.
"One day, you'll be stronger than me," his father had told him, ruffling his hair. Yet, here he was, stronger than he could ever hope to be even in the body of Lukas Drakos. And the Hero From Another World's eyes snapped toward Lukas. The same ones that had stared at him when he said those words all those years ago. Just a glance. And it was enough. The Hero saw it—clear as day. Lukas Drakos wasn't fighting. Shell-shocked. Breathless. Terrified. Recognition flickered in Jakob Fronterra's storm-colored eyes. Not as a father recognizing a son—but as a predator clocking the weakness in a pack. Lukas was the weakest link. And he certainly wasn't going to miss out on an opportunity quite as enticing as that. With inhumane speeds, he drove the flat side of his enormous blade against Rodan's side with a thunderous WHAM, sending the dragon hurtling sideways; moving him out of the way because he had been the only thing standing between him and Lukas.
The Hero wasn't done. He grabbed one of Rodan's own weapons—a hardened blade of solidified water hanging in midair, shaped by divine magic—and used it like a branch on a tree. Twisting his massive frame with impossible agility, he launched himself into a somersault, descending toward Lukas like a meteor wrapped in blood and salt and iron. The sword came down in a devastating arc.
Lukas moved. But not fast enough. Not fast enough to avoid the killing blow. And that would've been the end. That was when Rodan's body shifted mid-air, skin cracking, flesh rearranging, bones snapping. Wings burst from his back, scales ripping across his arms, his torso stretching, thickening, warping into something massive and ancient and draconic. His arm exploded into a titanic claw, now the size of a siege weapon, which slammed into Jakob's mid-swing, directing his momentum straight down and away from Lukas. The blow sent the Hero into the ocean with the force of a falling mountain.
BOOM.
The sea erupted. Tidal waves surged in every direction. Rodan hovered, his full draconic form now towering in the air, wings spread wide. He was a mighty creature to be reckoned with. Rodan was perhaps even larger than Lukas was in his full draconic form. He turned to Lukas.
And he headbutted him. Skull to skull. No warning. Just raw fury. CRACK.
Lukas stumbled backward, stars bursting behind his eyes. That snapped him out of it.
"Get YOUR FUCKING SHIT TOGETHER!" Rodan roared, voice reverberating like a thousand crashing waves. "This is not a fight where you hold back! Do you want to DIE here?"
Lukas blinked, still dazed, still bleeding—but something was shifting in him.
Rodan's voice softened but it still came with the authority of a Dragon Lord. "Right now, I need you to live, Lukas. I need you to fight."
And below them, the sea churned with wrath as the Hero From Another World began to rise again—bare-chested, bloodied, smiling. He was enjoying this. He burst from the sea like a monster from myth, hair soaked and wild, blood trickling down his temple, but his eyes? Calm. Focused. Unbothered. His armor was half-torn, rusted and beaten, but the man beneath it stood like he'd been owed a good fucking fight. And after waiting for what seemed like eternity, he got one.
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Lukas and Rodan moved as one. They connected through the Crown and Lukas yet again marvelled at the Legacies of the Lord. With their minds connected and their thoughts in sync, it was like a symphony. Rodan flanked from above, hurling blades of compressed sea-water with surgical precision. They crackled with oceanic magic, guided not by sight, but instinct—by the Divinity of the Seas that pulsed within him like a second heart.
Lukas, in contrast, came in low. Where Rodan fought like a magician, Lukas fought the only way he knew how. He fought with physicality. He twisted the Draconic Flow through his body in such a way that even Rodan had not witnessed before. Fluid. Brutal. Improvised. Jakob grunted as a strike from Lukas crashed into his solar plexus. The blow made the Hero stagger—not from damage, but from impact. Before he could recover, Lukas followed with a hook under the chin, and then a vicious backhanded claw across the temple.
THWACK.
Blood spattered the air. Not much. But enough. But before he could grab Lukas with his monstrous hands, Lukas reacted with the Draconic Flow. And his body shrunk, physically becoming smaller in size as he transformed back into his humanoid form. Scales rippling, bones tightening, wings vanishing—his enormous draconic form imploded in a flash of light, and suddenly Lukas was human again, slipping free from Jakob's grasp like liquid shadow. Jakob's hands closed on nothing but fucking air.
Rodan blinked mid-flight. "He's taking advantage of the transformation," he realized. "You're one fucking crazy bastard."
It was reckless. Untamed. Genius. But still unpolished. The Hero would not fall for the same trick again. And in that exact heartbeat, Rodan struck. A tidal lance was sent from above, a concentrated force roaring like a typhoon. It hit Jakob point-blank in the back, knocking the Hero forward, straight into Lukas's rising knee.
CRACK.
Jakob's head jerked up. His grin faltered. Then Rodan was on him, claws and jaws tearing into the war-forged hero with fury forged from vengeance. Water surged with him, shaping into weapons with every beat of his will—swords, chains, hammers. Lukas joined in, claws raking into the backs of Jakob's legs, fists striking nerve clusters with surgical force. Elbow to the kidney. Tail to the knee. Uppercut to the chin.
They were jumping his fucking ass.
For the first time in centuries—centuries—the Hero From Another World was on the defensive. Maybe this was a fight where they could win. They could do this. They could beat the Hero. It started small. Lukas didn't notice it at first. A shrug here. A missed blow. Jakob stumbling a half-step—but not out of pain. Out of boredom Lukas lunged again, hammering toward Jakob's jaw. The strike connected—and Jakob didn't move. Not an inch. He looked at Lukas.
And for the first time since the fight began…the Hero laughed. That was when Lukas felt it. The air shifted. The ocean froze. Not in temperature—but in stillness. Like the world itself was holding its breath. Jakob stepped forward. One step. Then another. No magic. No aura. Just raw power—rolling off of him in waves. Lukas had felt fear before. But this was different. A dread that clawed up his spine like ice-water, choking the breath from his lungs. This man…this thing...this Hero. He wasn't a warrior. He was not an admiral, that was just a meaningless title Nozar gave him.
He was an executioner.
The Hero dropped his stance. Relaxed his shoulders. And he let Rodan come. Lukas didn't have time to warn him, his thoughts screaming out through the Crown for Rodan not to come any closer.
The Hero grabbed Rodan's claw mid-swing with one hand, ceasing the dragon's momentum and holding him still. Then he let his sword drop, letting it fall back down into the ocean. There was a crack, the air itself splitting under the pressure of his movement. The Hero's right arm coiled back. His fist clenched. And with a growl like the grinding of tectonic plates, he plunged his fist into Rodan's chest.
SCHLK.
The sound was wet. Like a boot sinking into rotted meat. Rodan gasped. Blood erupted from his mouth like a geyser. His wings twitched. His body spasmed. The giant weight of the dragon sank as Rodan lost his strength, wings dropping; the only thing holding him up in the air was the Hero. Jakob dug deeper.Muscle tore. Bone cracked. The clawed digits of the Hero's right hand ripped through flesh like parchment, the left one holding onto Rodan's claw.
And then—
With a motion so deliberate it was almost casual—
The Hero From Another World ripped Rodan's heart out.
SPRRCHCK.
It came free with a spray of blood, a dripping, pulsating mass of wet red clutched in the Hero's hand. Rodan's eyes went wide. He looked at Lukas. And it was the look of a dead man walking. That gnawing, soul-deep realization hit Lukas like a truck. No matter how hard they fought, no matter how much they sacrificed, this was never a fight they could win. They had never stood a chance.
He was the Hero From Another World. The man they brought to end the Great War. He'd killed numerous Dragon Lords before them. This was no different. He was the one they called the Dragon Slayer.
"Well it's been fun, boys. You were strong. Take pride in that. But I have a job to do. You understand. This isn't personal." He shrugged, tossing Rodan's heart into the ocean; still pulsing weakly as it sunk beneath the waves.
They were strong. But it was clear that...
He was the Strongest.