The three Crimson Elder Sky Dragons hovered like judgment itself, their massive wings beating a rhythm of inevitable doom. The lead dragon opened its maw, and the glow of gathering fire illuminated the terror on Theodore’s face.

He was alone. His party was scattered. The "Hero" was seconds away from becoming a scorched footnote in the history of the Dragon Empire.

​"Who dares to kill the divine spawn?"

​The voice didn’t come from the sky, nor did it come from the dragons. It was a sound that seemed to vibrate out of the very stones of the canyon, ancient and sharp as a whetstone.

​Suddenly, a rift of blinding white light tore through the reality of the Iron Wastes. A figure stepped through, draped in robes of spun silver that defied the hurricane-force winds of the dragons.

In his hand was a simple wooden staff, but as he tapped it against the ground, a shockwave of holy ether exploded outward, neutralizing the dragons’ presence.

​The crimson fire in the lead dragon’s throat sputtered and died. The massive beast recoiled, its golden eyes widening. "An Envoy? Here?"

​"Leave this place, servants of the Dragon Emperor," the mysterious figure commanded.

He was an elderly man with a beard that flowed like a mountain stream, but his eyes were twin galaxies of burning starlight.

"This boy is under the protection of the High Heavens. Your Emperor has no jurisdiction over the souls of the Gods."

​"The Emperor has jurisdiction over everything that casts a shadow," the lead dragon growled.

"We shall report this interference. The Dragon Throne does not forget."

​With a final, deafening roar, the three dragons turned and streaked back toward the violet horizon, leaving a stunned and broken Theodore in the dust.

​The old man turned to Theodore, his expression a mixture of pity and sternness.

"Get up, Theodore Vance. You are lucky the Sword God still finds utility in your wretched soul."

​"Who... who are you?" Theodore coughed, clutching his cracked ribs. "Are you a hidden NPC? A guardian?"

​"I am the Envoy of God Ascalon," the man replied, tapping his staff again. The world around them began to dissolve into a swirl of white mist.

"And you are currently the most pathetic ’Hero’ to ever grace this world’s history. You killed the dreamer to steal the dream, yet you cannot even defend yourself against a few lizards. Come. The Sanctuary awaits."

​The transition was instantaneous. Theodore found himself standing on a floating island suspended in a sea of clouds.

At the center stood a temple of pure crystal, dedicated to the Sword God Ascalon.

​Over the next several hours, the Envoy gathered the scattered members of Theodore’s party. Elara, the Berserker, and Julian were brought through the rifts, looking battered but alive.

They were ushered into the central hall, where the air was so saturated with holy energy that Theodore felt his levels artificially ticking upward just by breathing.

​"Listen well, The Dragon Emperor is an anomaly that has corrupted the very fabric of Gloria. He has seized the Western Kingdoms and bound the goddesses. To kill him, you cannot rely on the ’stats’ you stole from your senior’s notes. You must master the Arts that transcend the system."

​He turned to Theodore, his eyes piercing through the boy’s facade. "You want power? You want to ’delete’ the Emperor? Then you shall learn the style that was never meant to be used by mortals."

​The Envoy waved his hand, and a massive tome of golden light appeared before Theodore.

​"The Heaven Slaying Sword Style," the Envoy announced. "The fabled art used by God Ascalon during the last battle against evil Emperion. Each strike cost a thousand years of life for a normal man. But for a Hero? It will cost only your blood and your sanity."

​Theodore reached out, his fingers trembling as they touched the light. Information flooded his mind: movements that defied the laws of motion, strikes that could sever the concept of existence itself.

​"This... this is it," Theodore whispered, a manic grin returning to his face. "This is the ultimate cheat code. With this, I don’t care if Adonis has dragons. I’ll cut the sky itself if I have to."

​"Do not boast, boy," the Envoy warned. "Now, train. Train until your bones turn to glass and your heart turns to steel. You have seven days before the Dragon Emperor’s scouts find this sanctuary."

​While the Hero’s party began their grueling, day-and-night training under the starlight of the Sanctuary, the atmosphere in the Dragon Palace was one of cold, calculating silence.

​Adonis sat on his throne, his chin resting on his hand. The three Sky Dragons had returned, and their report had been... interesting.

​"An Envoy of Ascalon?" Adonis mused, his violet eyes glowing with a dark fire. "So the old manipulator is finally showing his face. He been hiding in their pocket dimensions months, and they choose now to intervene for a thief like Theodore."

​Millia, the Goddess of Darkness, drifted into the throne room. Her presence was like a cooling shadow, a soothing balm to the tension in the air.

She moved toward Adonis, her dark robes trailing behind her like a silk sea.

​"Husband," she whispered, her hand resting on his knee. "The shadows are agitated. I felt the ripple of the Envoy’s arrival. It was a clumsy, bright thing. It reeks of desperate holiness."

​Adonis looked down at her, his expression softening only for her. "Theodore is in a sanctuary. He’s being fed the ’Heaven Slaying’ arts as we speak. The Church is trying to build a weapon specifically designed to kill me."

​Millia let out a low, musical laugh. "They think they can kill the one who mastered the Chaos? They think a boy from otherworld can handle the power of a God’s sword style?"

​"They are desperate, Millia," Adonis said, his voice turning serious. "And desperate men are dangerous. I need you to look into this. Use the Eye of the Abyss. Find that sanctuary. I don’t want to just kill Theodore anymore. I want to see what kind of ’Heaven’ he thinks he’s representing."

​Millia’s moonlight-pale eyes turned entirely black. "I shall peer into every corner of the sky, my King. If there is a crack in their sanctuary, I will find it. I will turn their starlight into a shroud."

​"Good," Adonis replied, standing up. He looked out toward the horizon where the sun was setting, casting a deep crimson glow over the empire. "Vexa, status report on the Hero’s party."

​"They are currently undergoing high-intensity training, Master," Vexa’s voice replied. "Theodore’s power level is spiking at an unstable rate. If he continues, he may achieve a ’God-Slayer’ rank within seventy-two hours. However, his soul stability is dropping. He is burning himself out just to match you."

​Adonis smirked. "Let him burn. A star that burns twice as bright is much easier to see in the dark. Tell Rai to put the border legions on high alert. If the Envoy tries to move the Hero back into the physical plane, I want a net waiting for him."

​Back in the Sanctuary, the training was brutal. Theodore’s silver armor was dented and stained with sweat. He was currently facing an illusion of the Sky Dragon he had failed to scratch.

​"Heaven Slaying Style... First Form: Void Sever!" Theodore roared.

​He swung the Holy Sword, and for a fraction of a second, a line of pure nothingness tore through the air. The illusionary dragon was sliced in half, the code of its being unraveling.

​"Yes! Did you see that?" Theodore shouted, laughing breathlessly. "I did it! I’m Level 95! I’m the strongest being in this world!"

​Julian and the Berserker were also making progress, their bodies being reinforced by holy elixirs provided by the Envoy. Elara, however, watched Theodore with a growing sense of dread.

​"Theodore, stop for a moment," Elara pleaded, stepping toward him. "Look at your hands. They’re shaking. Your eyes... they’re glowing with a light that isn’t yours. This sword style is eating you."

​"It’s the price of victory, Elara!" Theodore snapped, his voice sounding echoed and hollow. "Adonis won’t wait for us to be ’healthy.’ He’s an Emperor! He has armies! If I have to burn my soul to ash to kill him, then that’s what a Hero does!"

​"Is it?" the Envoy asked, appearing from the shadows of the temple pillars. "Or is that what a thief does when he realizes he cannot own what he stole?"

​Theodore glared at the Envoy. "Don’t preach to me. You’re just a tool to help me win. Once Adonis is dead, I’ll be the one ruling this world. I’ll make it exactly like Liam wanted it. I’ll be the God-King."

​The Envoy didn’t reply. He simply looked toward the dark clouds gathering at the edge of the floating island, shadows that shouldn’t be able to penetrate the sanctuary’s barriers.

​Deep in the heart of the Dragon Palace, Millia was sitting in a trance, her fingers tracing invisible lines in the air.

​"I found it," she whispered, a drop of black blood falling from her eye. "A floating rock in the sea of stars. It is beautiful, Adonis. It will look even better when we bring it crashing down."

​Adonis stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. "Then let the hunt begin in earnest. Let’s see if the Heaven Slaying Sword can actually cut a Dragon."

​