Bloody Odyssey-Chapter 47 - 01

Chapter 46

The trees and grasses whispered under the serene moonlight, their leaves rustling like hushed secrets carried on the wind. A gentle cool night breeze grazed against Dax’s exposed skin, carrying with it the faint metallic tang of distant poison and the clean, earthy scent of dew-soaked plains.

He stood motionless, facing a figure that had once been the trembling dark-green goblin.

The creature was no longer small or frail.

It towered now—massive, broad-shouldered, its dark-green skin gleaming like polished obsidian under the moon. Serpentine eyes glowed a deep, venomous amber, slitted pupils contracting and dilating with every breath. Thick cords of muscle shifted beneath its hide; poison seeped in slow, glistening beads from its pores, dripping to the grass where it hissed faintly on contact.

"It is complete."

Dax walked a slow circle around it, hands clasped behind his back, eyes sharp and analytical. He took mental notes—height increase, muscle density, venom output, the faint silver veins that now traced beneath its skin like lightning frozen in flesh.

"Stand."

The command was quiet, but absolute.

The creature bolted upright in an instant—fear flashing across its serpentine features—yet it cowered instinctively, shoulders hunching, head dipping low. Even in submission, its true height was revealed.

It stood two full feet taller than Dax now.

Its ears—longer, more swept-back than before—dropped to the sides like a predator listening for danger. Tiny, scale-like breaks appeared along the edges, close to the eyes, shimmering with faint emerald iridescence.

Poison continued to weep from its pores in thin rivulets, pooling at its clawed feet.

"Do not be scared, 01."

Dax’s eyes glowed with dangerous intent—crimson-edged, unblinking. In that single heartbeat the trembling beast stilled. Its breathing evened out; the fear remained, but it no longer controlled the body. Only occasional shivers betrayed the war inside.

Dax stretched his palm forward, offering the jagged cutlass.

The creature hesitated. It took one small step back, eyes fixed on the blade as though it recognized the death coiled inside it.

"It’s yours."

Dax’s voice was calm, almost gentle.

The massive hands—clawed, thick-fingered—reached forward slowly. Trembling fingers closed around the hilt.

The moment the weapon settled into its grip, a soft plink sounded.

A three-inch fang dropped from the creature’s mouth—curved, ivory-white at the base, transitioning to deep emerald at the tip, twisting with silver and emerald patterns that mirrored the cutlass itself.

Dax’s hand flashed out, catching the fang before it hit the ground.

He turned it once in the moonlight, studying the lethal elegance.

"Another weapon," he murmured. "Just like the cutlass."

He placed the fang back into the creature’s open palm.

"Don’t use that fang for now. I urge you—keep it around you. You will know when the time comes."

The creature nodded once.

When it spoke, the voice was deep—guttural, resonant, the kind of timbre that could scare the heart of a child even without meaning to.

Suddenly it froze.

Red veins erupted across its body—racing from chest to limbs, pulsing like fresh wounds. Foam bubbled at the corners of its mouth; its massive frame shook violently.

Yet its grip on the blade never loosened.

As though letting go would mean the end of its life.

Dax watched without moving.

Hope he wouldn’t be poisoned to death.

He smiled—small, knowing, almost fond.

"Do not forget—twenty men."

The reminder hung in the air like a promise.

Then he retreated into the darkness, steps silent.

"They are in for a surprise."

Dax vanished.

He reappeared farther out across the plains—hovering like a ghost, aura concealed to the absolute limit. His presence was little more than a ripple in the night wind. He searched the jagged mountain peaks that rose in the distance, eyes scanning for flying-type creatures.

None approached.

The winged beasts knew better. They huddled deep in their cave nests, wings folded tight, refusing to leave the safety of stone even as the moon called them.

Dax tilted his head back and looked at the stars.

The moon hadn’t shifted its position in the sky—still hanging low and full, unmoving in its vigil. Time stretched abundantly before him. There was still room to prepare.

He smiled faintly into the night.

—

In the black steel fortress, inside a beautiful, massive room with a futuristic concept—smooth obsidian walls veined with faint silver circuitry, floating orbs of soft blue light drifting like lazy stars, a panoramic window overlooking the moonlit plains—Nadia lay on her enormous bed.

She wore a beautiful loose red robe, silk slipping off one shoulder, the fabric pooling around her like spilled wine. Her long blonde hair scattered across the dark sheets in golden waves. One hand rested above her head; the other lay gently across her flat belly.

She was lost.

She replayed the events from earlier over and over.

The way she had trembled—helpless, exposed—before her savior.

The way he had faced her nightmare for her—Sterion’s hateful white flames licking at his skin, yet he had not flinched. He had drunk them.

And even now, after everything, her mind did not linger on the hateful god who had once burned her alive in front of her peers.

No.

All she could think about was how she had failed Dax.

How she had screamed. How she had shown weakness. How she had been reduced to that broken child again.

She squeezed herself into a tight ball, knees drawn to her chest, robe slipping further to reveal soft, tender skin glowing faintly in the dim light.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

"I will never show that side to him again," she whispered into the quiet room.

The words were a vow—small, fierce, unbreakable.

She closed her eyes.

But all she could see was the image of Dax—standing calm in white flames, eyes glowing crimson, smiling as he devoured the very power that had once destroyed her.

Her heart clenched.

Not with fear.

With something far deeper.

Determination.

She would become stronger.

She would stand beside him—not behind him, not trembling, not broken.

Never again.