Chapter 18: Howl, My Pride!
It didn’t matter why Han wanted details about his Mother’s combat style right now; Xena would never miss a chance to curse the Red Mistress.
"She’s a tough bitch who incinerates mana with her fucking flames! Anything that slips past her, she just takes head-on with her scales and laughs like she did something notable, when it’s all in her fucking birth genes! She’s—"
Words stuck in Xena’s throat as she noticed flames igniting on each of Han’s horns—black and red, respectively. He discarded his torn robes, letting them sink into the snow. With the fabric gone, she saw his wings were larger.
The puppet shouted, "Come down here, Dragon!"
Raising his battle-ax over his shoulder, he braced and used the minotaur’s brute strength to tighten his grip. He hurled the ax, and it spun like a shuriken.
Han drew his original magic circle and summoned his Dark Dragon. From within the black-fire magic circle, the Dark Dragon slithered out and barreled into the incoming attack. It opened its jaws and snapped at the weapon’s handle before the sharp end could damage its mana body.
The puppet’s eyes widened in surprise. "How?!"
Pulling the battle-ax back to himself, the man tried to catch Han’s Dark Dragon, aiming to kill two birds with one stone. Alas, the Dark Dragon turned and flew away against the pull, wagging its tail at the half-minotaur.
Han released the magic circle, yet the Dark Dragon didn’t disappear. The spell now ran on its own. With no monsters nearby, it circled while keeping the battle-ax out of the puppet’s reach. Han cracked his knuckles.
I’ve never fought in close-quarters combat, but something in me says to go for it—and that I’ll enjoy it. Let’s ride this Dragon’s Pride.
His wings fluttered, then he plummeted straight at his enemy. Han slammed into the puppet’s raised guard like a meteor, shattering it. With his foe exposed, he hammered punches into the man’s chest and face, each strike splitting the air and landing with raw force.
Grabbing the man’s hair, Han drove the puppet’s face into his knee, breaking most of his facial bones. He followed with a heavy punch to the solar plexus, doubling the man over and making him spit a mouthful of blood. The puppet hit the ground and struggled to breathe.
Han towered over him, staring coldly.
Then the minotaur bloodline kicked in, repairing bones and muscles. He could speak again—and he laughed at Han.
"You can punch me as many times as you want and even burn me with your flames, Dragon! I’ll endure everything and rebuild until you’re spent! Haha!" the puppet said.
Han smiled. "You think so?"
A wave of cold spread within the puppet. He felt it—cold biting into his flesh from the solar plexus. His regeneration slowed as his mana and essence flooded into that chill, then spread even faster through him.
It was so cold it burned, like knives slicing him.
"Aahhhhh!" he screamed, trying to rise.
Han narrowed his eyes. The man was actually getting up as the Dark Cauldron Art devoured him. He’d expected that, so his amazement lasted only seconds. He brought forth his magic circle and channeled mana laced with his Dragon Bloodlines.
Two circles appeared beside Han.
I modified these on the fly, but they’ll work. I’m confident in them. Howl, my Pride.
From those circles, two additional dragons peeked out. Only their heads emerged, but they were distinct. One was black with demonic horns; the other was red with straight, orange-glowing horns. They parted their jaws at once, spitting their unique flames.
From Han’s left, the Red Flames rushed out. From his right, the Dark Flames. They worked in harmony, splashing over the puppet and drowning him in their cadence. While Red Flames indiscriminately burned everything, Dark Flames used the gaps the other flames left to burn away his regeneration first. Within that torrent, the puppet’s screams died under the howls of Han’s Dragons.
A minute later, the flames and howls faded, revealing a half-human burnt to a crisp. Bits of life clung to him, perhaps waiting for his regeneration to kick in.
"There’s no more regeneration for you. I burned it down."
His lips twitched, but he had no strength to reply. After Han’s words, his last hopes of survival slipped away, and he died.
Han rolled his neck and relaxed. Though it was a fake human born in this artifact, it was his first human kill. It didn’t trouble him. He didn’t feel like giving any moral speech, offering excuses, or claiming an ulterior motive. This kill showed him the potential of his double Dragon Veins, and that mattered more than anything else.
It felt good to burn that man down, too. Both the foolish hero and the Dark Practitioner. I wish I could extract that minotaur’s essence for real, though.
[You have slain him.]
His Father’s voice resounded.
[Well done. Whatever moved you, the course was sound. We are not saviors of fools; we use them. The essences you drew are artifices, yet I have set aside a true minotaur’s essence as your reward. Now, let us resume our passage through the past.]
Han nodded, smiling. If he was correct, the minotaur’s essence grants high regeneration and a surge of strength. He’d be able to use it well for himself.
His Father’s narration resumed.
[Years passed, and the Dark Age neared its last turn. Wyrds found their place in this world and learned to bridle their killing urge. Tribes rose, then clans, and at last kingdoms, for even they conceded they could not overcome humanity. Humans and Wyrds traded knowledge and forged ties. In time, Dark Arts seemed needless. Once more, people named them selfish cruelty without purpose.]
Han nodded.
[A rift opened between Dark Practitioners and the nobility. Another followed within our own circle. One faction would keep to its work; the other would hurl the world back into war. Civil strife followed. In my eyes, it was wasted effort—both sides stayed their hands, and so none advanced. We left an opening for a third party to cull our people. A truce became needful; it came. The Dark Practitioners then parted into two houses: the Dark Families and the Ender Cult.]
Han looked over his shoulder. "Aren’t you a Dark Priestess of the Ender Cult?"
"I am," Xena sneered.
"It makes sense now why my Mother fucked you up."
Xena showed him a middle finger and bared her teeth.