Isla and his Hollows moved like shadows through the night, a storm of purpose and unyielding power. His team was split—one part following him to the capital, the other heading into the unknown, their mission cloaked in secrecy. As they arrived at the capital, Isla readied himself for the confrontation ahead, a war not for glory, but for survival—a war to face one of the most powerful demons ever to walk the earth. He reported to the Emperor about their aid to Dracia, and soon, with elite knights at his side, Isla joined the royal envoy. There were no attendants this time—this was no diplomatic mission. This was a battle, and Isla had come for the demon's blood.
Riding alongside him was Arman, Captain of the Knights—a 4-star aura master and a man of both unparalleled intellect and loyalty. Young yet powerful, Arman would stain his blade with blood for Isla, without question, without hesitation. Together, they entered the heart of Dracia, straight into the depths where the demon was sealed, knowing the darkness they would awaken could very well consume them all.
Inside the dungeon, mages swarmed, wielding ancient magic artifacts. At the center, the Yata Mirror glimmered ominously above the sealed demon, part of the grand plan to shatter the barrier and unleash destruction. Isla was greeted coldly by the Tower Masters and the Wizard King meanwhile Eldrick barely spared him a glance. A shift in plans had occurred—Isla's late arrival had changed some of the plan, and now, the grand ritual would proceed first before getting the Dragon Heart .
The torches flickered, casting long shadows as midnight drew near—the time when the seal would be at its weakest. The Wizard King stood tall, his staff crackling with power, commanding the mages to prepare their spells. They would chain the demon down, while the Tower Masters would strike. A perfect plan, yes… but there was one thing they hadn't accounted for.
"Channel your magic power!" Wizard King's voice rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade.
The Tower Masters aimed their magic at the Yata Mirror.
Light Magic:Light Beam
Wind Magic:Air piercer
Water Magic:Torrent
Severing magic:Death scythe
—each spell, each incantation, a massive force aimed at the mirror that would turn it against the demon. The air was electric with power. Spell after spell was unleashed, and the Yata Mirror glowed, its surface shimmering like a dark star in the void.
Then, it happened.
A blinding beam of light shot from the mirror, blinding all who stood in its wake. The Wizard King's shield magic sprang into action, forming an ethereal barrier to protect those behind him.The crystal shattered, and from the ruins, the demon awoke.
Its wings unfurled like the dark storm clouds of a coming apocalypse, its eyes burning with the fury of hell. The mages were shaken, some even paralyzed with fear, but Isla… Isla stood poised, his sword ready, his eyes cold.
"Chain him down!" commanded the Red Magic Tower Master, and the mages released their binding spells, chains of magic swirling into the air, attempting to ensnare the beast.
The demon struggled, its power radiating like a torrent of destruction. It charged, the mages flying through the air like ragdolls, but Arman leaped into the fray, blocking the demon's deadly strike. Isla, without hesitation, moved like a shadow, his aura darkening as he summoned the most terrifying of techniques.
"Heavenly Dark Art – Third Form: Oblivion Slash."
The demon, unaware, felt the cold kiss of Isla's blade as it cleaved through its hand, rendering it limp.Blood gushing out from the demon hand.
The moment The Wizard King had waited for had arrived, and with deadly precision, he whispered, "Thanks for the time."
And then,he uses his power.
Hollow magic:Black piercer
A simple orb of darkness pierced the demon's heart, splattering blood like a crimson rain. The demon roared in agony, its wings flapping desperately as it attempted to flee.
The Wizard King began to panic. Just as Elrick had predicted, the moment chaos erupted, the older mage rushed forward, desperate to contain the demon. His hands surged with power.
Binding Magic: Deadbloom Grasp—"
Origin Magic: Holy Beam!"
But before the spell could fully bind, a single, blinding beam of divine light tore through the battlefield—piercing straight through both the Wizard King and the demon.
Blood sprayed into the air.
The demon let out a deafening roar and was flung backward into the sky, wings faltering. The Wizard King stumbled, blood gushing from his chest, his face contorted in disbelief. The seers stood frozen. No one spoke. No one dared.
Realizing the demon was escaping, the Wizard King, trembling, barked his next command, voice ragged with pain.
"Chase it…! Don't let it escape!"
Without hesitation, the Red and Black Tower Masters launched into the air, flying after the demon while shielding the panicked civilians below with protective barriers.
On the ground, amid the wreckage, stood Isla, Elrick, and their remaining mages. The first phase of their secret plan had unfolded flawlessly.
Elrick collapsed to his knees, blood trickling from his lips. Despite the pain, a smile cracked across his face—a painful, broken smile of victory. After all these years, his dream was finally within reach.
Until he saw Isla draw his blade.
A smug look painted Isla's face, cold and triumphant. Without a word, he raised his hand.
A black shadow circle swirled into existence at his side—and another opened before Elrick's heart.
"Heavenly Dark Art – Fourth Form: Void Piercer."
The sword passed through the shadow gate and erupted to Elrick's chest in a burst of black light. His eyes widened. He had no time to scream, no time to protest.
Just a sharp breath. And then, silence.
His smile vanished, replaced by cold disbelief. His body collapsed, lifeless, like a puppet with its strings cut.
His mages screamed and launched their attacks, but Isla's loyal shadows—Hollows—descended on them in a blur of darkness. One by one, they fell. There would be no survivors.
Isla turned his gaze to the wounded Wizard King, who had managed to stay on his feet.
A mocking smile tugged at his lips.
"You owe me a dragon heart… and your life."
The Wizard King froze. His mind spun. The realization hit him like a hammer—Isla had known everything. The betrayal. The plot to pin his death on Isla. The war that would've followed.
And now, Isla has acted first.
Terror seeped into the Wizard King's face. For the first time in decades, he felt truly helpless. His lips quivered, and deep within… he pleaded for mercy.
Isla didn't give it.
Not yet.
He turned his back.
His true prey had not yet been dealt with.
The demon, its body torn and burned, soared blindly across the mountains, its strength fading with each wingbeat. Blood soaked its scales. The rising sun burned its skin, weakening it further.
It finally crash-landed on a mountain peak, breathing raggedly. It looked down and froze.
There, on its arm—a mark.
Its eyes widened in horror. He had been marked.
From the shadows behind it, a cold voice echoed like death itself.
"Heavenly Dark Art – Fifth Form: Mark of Death."
Isla stepped forth from the darkness, his blade already drawn. He had planned this from the beginning. Amidst the chaos, he had placed a tracker on the demon. He expected the escape. He orchestrated it.
The demon snarled in disbelief.
"I survived the wrath of the Dragon King… and now I fall to a mortal?"
Isla didn't reply. No monologue. No mercy.
He drove his blade into the demon's heart.
Its final scream shattered the silence of the mountain.
With both the demon's heart and the Elder Dragon's heart in hand, Isla vanished into the dawn mist—and made his way straight back to the capital.
Later, in a grand announcement, the Wizard King declared that the Blue Tower Master had perished fighting the demon—and Isla had emerged as the hero of Dracia. The gift of the dragon heart was made official.
The truth was buried beneath glory and ash.
Everyone had lost something.
Everyone… except Isla.
He gained everything.