The Nameless Heir-Chapter 58: Dragon Slayer

He sat on top of Cyrus, eyes closed. Focused.

Just then, a beam of black energy ripped through the sky.

Cyrus jerked sideways with a roar. The blast roared past by them, leaving a red trail of heat behind it.

He didn’t flinch. He remained calm, focused.

In the distance, something massive tore through the clouds.

A dragon—black as pitch.

Its scales shimmered, catching the light like glass dipped in oil. Red eyes burned beneath the shadow of its brow. Smoke poured from its mouth, thick and curling, like steam from a broken world.

Its wings stretched wider than rooftops.

Each beat warped the air around it, rippling through the sky like thunder made flesh.

On its back stood the man in black armor.

The dragon opened its jaws. A red and black light swirled between its fangs. The energy pulsed once—then fired.

Cyrus spun midair again, the blast missing by a hair.

It tore through the clouds behind them, ripping them open like paper—this time, more powerful.

Wind exploded in every direction, shaking the air with violent force.

"They’re catching up!" Aria yelled, clutching Liz tighter as the wind howled around them.

"It’s fine," Kael muttered.

He rose up. The Helm of Darkness formed on his head.

He turned to Liz.

"Keep going. I’ll meet you guys there," he said. His voice was quiet—but sharp.

Then he leaped off Cyrus.

"Shadowbind... third form: Mage Slayer," he whispered as he spun downward.

He let out a breath while falling headfirst—slow, steady, but controlled.

The wind rushed past his ears.

Then, at the last moment—he flipped.

His body twisted midair, smooth and fluid.

His foot touched the ground—light, like a feather.

Graceful. Controlled.

He closed his eyes.

And waited.

The moment the black knight passed overhead, Kael shifted all his weight to both legs—and exploded upward.

Fast.

So fast, he disappeared.

Then, without warning, he tore through the air from below—cutting the wind like a blade drawn through silk. A blur of motion, sharp and lethal.

From underneath, he swung.

Clean. Precise.

The blade sliced through the dragon’s wing like it was paper.

He tore through its flesh in one smooth, clean motion.

Bone cracked—loud and dry.

He ripped through the air above them—his body wrapped in shadows. He hovered midair, the light behind him casting a long silhouette.

His red eyes met the knight’s.

Cold. Focused.

Unflinching.

But the rider didn’t flinch.

He met Kael’s gaze—unmoving. Unshaken.

Even as the dragon beneath him lost control, its wings flailing, its body spiraling toward the ground.

He didn’t look away.

He just stood there—calm. Confident. Like he’d seen it coming from the start.

Then he smiled. A slow, knowing grin.

And jumped.

His boots slammed down onto the dragon’s back. He used it like a stepping stone and launched forward, both hands gripping the massive sword.

He swung midair, bringing the massive blade down—heavy, with all his weight behind it. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

Gravity pulled the blade down like a guillotine—fast, brutal, heavy.

Kael raised his sword to block. Calm.

Their blades collided mid-fall, a thunderous clash that rang through the sky. Sparks scattered between them. The knight’s massive weapon pressed hard against Kael’s, the force driving him down even faster—like a weight tied to his body.

He felt the weight dragging him down. He couldn’t overpower it.

So he didn’t try.

Instead, he used it.

Kael twisted his wrist, angled his blade, and let the pressure slide across the steel—turning force into momentum.

The force scraped downward with a shriek of metal—and he used it.

He spun with the momentum, flipped midair, and landed clean on his opponent’s back before the knight could react.

His foot slammed into the knight’s spine. He pushed down hard—

The armored body slammed into the ground.

The impact hit like a hammer.

The ground split beneath him, a deep dent carved into the earth on impact. Dust exploded outward in every direction—swallowing the battlefield in a thick wall of smoke and silence.

Kael turned his head.

In the distance—he saw Cyrus.

A flicker of relief touched his chest. Small. Brief.

But it didn’t last.

From within the haze, something moved.

The man lunged out of the dust, rushing toward them with brutal speed.

He didn’t make it.

Kael appeared above him in an instant, his shadow falling over the man—eyes locked, cold and steady.

"Where do you think you’re going?" he said, voice low.

His leg snapped upward—quick, sharp.

The heel smashed into the back of the man’s head, driving him face-first into the dirt.

The ground shook from the hit.

For a moment, nothing moved.

Then he rose from the crater—slow, staggering. Dust clung to his armor in thick sheets, slipping off in waves as he stood.

His breath came in rough. Uneven.

"Damn you," he growled, voice low and ragged—like a blade dragged across stone.

Kael didn’t answer.

He just stared at him—quiet, still.

His eyes burned with fury.

"I’ll kill you, brat!" he roared.

Kael didn’t move. He just tilted his head slightly—expression blank, unreadable.

The silence stretched.

Then the man stepped forward, slow and deliberate. His gaze narrowed, locking onto Kael’s face.

His voice dropped. Lower. Steadier.

"Tell me... Are you the one who killed Leon?"

Kael didn’t blink.

"Yes," he muttered.

The knight’s jaw tightened. His shoulders twitched—just slightly. Rage, not fear.

He stepped in, slow and heavy, the weight behind his movements deliberate.

His grip on the sword hilt tightened—so hard the metal groaned.

"Then I’m going to kill you slowly for that," he said. His voice came out low, every word grinding between clenched teeth.

"You done?" Kael asked, voice low.

He sneered, chest rising as he took a slow step forward.

"How dare you talk to a hero like that—"

Before he could finish, Kael was already in front of him. He was there in the blink of an eye.

Without any warning. Not a sound.

His foot slammed into his stomach, folding him in half with a dull, brutal thud.

The man flew backward—skipping across the dirt like a stone across water.

Each hit tore up chunks of earth. Dust chased after him in thick, rising waves, swallowing everything behind.

Kael exhaled through his mouth, tired of all this talk.

"I don’t have time for this."

A burst of black energy exploded from his body—it was violent and intense. The dust didn’t drift. It detonated, ripping backward in a gust that cleared the field.

He stood in the center of it all.

His body trembled—black energy crawling over his skin like veins made of shadow. It pulsed, wild and alive, leaking out with every breath.

His helmet was gone. Thrown off in the chaos.

What remained was a jagged face—hard lines, carved by time.

Scars ran across his cheeks and jaw. Some faded. Others still raw.

His eyes were pure black. Unfocused... but still watching. Still aware.

Short, matted hair clung to his scalp—damp with sweat, streaked with dirt.

Then he laughed.

Sharp. Explosive. Unhinged.

"I’m gonna enjoy killing you," he shouted, eyes wide and burning.

"And her."

Kael didn’t speak.

His fingers curled tighter around the hilt of his blade—knuckles pale beneath the pressure. A slow breath slipped through his nose, controlled... but heavy.

His eyes never left Victor’s.

Still. Steady. Cold.

The black knight moved again.

He charged, dragging his sword behind him—then swung it down in a wide, brutal arc.

Kael raised his weapon. Steel met steel. The impact sent a shiver through his bones.

He didn’t stop.

Kael twisted with the clash, pivoted off one foot—and slammed his heel into the side of Victor’s head.

The blow connected clean.

But he didn’t flinch.

Instead, he turned—slowly—and grinned.

His hand snapped up, reaching for Kael’s leg like a hunter grabbing prey.

Kael’s eyes narrowed. He ripped himself free, leaping back to regain distance.

His feet hit the ground soft—controlled. His breathing sharp but steady.

"What a monster," he thought, gaze sharpening.

He straightened his shoulders. The tension in his neck barely held still.

He smirked through clenched teeth.

"I am Victor," he growled.

"The hero who slayed the God of Dragons."

He stepped forward, blood still dripping from his lip.

"And you are?"

Kael’s eyes locked onto his.

"I’m Kael Voss."

He shifted his stance. The shadows behind him stirred.

"And I’m the one who slayed the God of Death and King of the Titans."

Victor stopped.

Something in his face changed. His smirk vanished.

Victor started laughing—loud, guttural, unhinged.

But then... the smile dropped.

His voice dropped with it.

"How are you so strong... yet you have no mana? No magic?"

His hands trembled at his sides.

"HOWWWW?" he shouted.

Kael blinked.

"I don’t know."

He shrugged casually.

"I was born with it, I guess."

That answer broke something in him.

"Damn you!" Victor roared.

He charged, swinging his massive blade from the side. Kael blocked it, but the impact pushed him backward, feet skidding through the dirt.

"I hate nothing more than people who are born with power... and have no idea what it means to earn it!"

His voice cracked. Not with weakness—but something deeper. Resentment. Shame.

Kael blitzed forward—shadows coiling around his body like a second skin. His blade swung down hard.

Victor blocked it—but the force drove him straight down. The ground split beneath his feet, opening into a wide crater.

A shockwave burst outward, tearing across the field and ripping through the dust.

Kael didn’t move.

Their blades stayed locked—steel grinding against steel.

"You talk too much," he muttered, eyes fixed on him from above.

"Shut up!" Victor screamed.

A burst of energy exploded from his core, blasting Kael backward.

Victor charged again—faster this time. He swung from every angle: left, right, high, low. Wild. Angry.

"How dare you look down on me!" he bellowed with each strike.

"I was chosen by the gods!"

Kael didn’t speak.

He just stared at him—expressionless. Cold. Focused.

That silence made Victor furious.

"You think you’re better than me, don’t you? Just because you were blessed! Just because you’re stronger!"

Kael tilted his head slightly, confused.

What is he even talking about?

Victor’s eyes burned with madness.

"You don’t know what I gave up for power!" he shouted.

"You don’t know what I sacrificed!"

Kael said nothing.

But he’d heard enough.

As Victor raised his sword for a wide, horizontal slash—Kael moved.

Fast.

He stabbed his own blade through Victor’s foot, pinning him to the earth. The knight flinched.

Kael grabbed his head with both hands—yanked it down—and drove his knee into his face. Bone cracked.

Then he followed with a punch to the ribs. Another to the stomach.

Then the face. Then the ribs again. Over and over. A brutal barrage—breaking something with every blow.

Blood sprayed across the field.

Kael ripped his blade free from Victor’s foot.

Then he twisted his body and launched an uppercut into the man’s chin—lifting him off the ground.

While Victor was still midair, Kael spun his blade around and slammed the dull end into his gut.

The knight flew backward, body limp.

"You talk too much," Kael repeated, breath low.

Victor didn’t move.

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