Viscount Luke stared at both of his sons. His hardened expression softened, if only slightly, and he clenched his fist hard at his side. Never had he imagined the situation would develop into something like this, yet here they were.

"Both of you should leave," he said again. "This is something your father must deal with as the Viscount of this land. Take care of your mother and wait for my return."

But the boys in front of him did not move.

"How dare they come against you?" Eric snapped, stepping forward. "You gave everything to the Kingdom of Vermilion, and now they send enemies straight to our town? We can't let this slide, Father. There has to be something we can do to stop this."

"If there isn't," Kase added firmly, "then we'll stand and fight beside you."

Luke's stern face broke into a proud smile.

"Those are my boys," he said quietly. Then his tone shifted, becoming serious once more. "If you truly want to help me, then listen carefully. Go to the basement of the manor. You remember the great room I told you no one was allowed to enter, don't you?"

"The one with the sealed doors?" Eric asked.

"Yes. Inside it lies something that can help us win this. I spent years of my life acquiring it." Luke's gaze hardened. "I will hold off the enemies and make sure they do not reach you. While I do that, the two of you will retrieve what's inside and bring it back."

He placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

"If you succeed, then you will have proven yourselves as my sons."

Both boys straightened, their faces filled with resolve.

"How do we open the door?" Kase asked.

"Blood," Luke replied. "The blood of any member of this family will open it."

They exchanged a glance, nodded once, and turned to leave.

Luke then turned to the guard standing nearby. "Bring me my sword."

The guard rushed off immediately. Luke rolled his shoulders and stepped forward, his massive frame steadying itself as he moved.

Outside the manor, Raze and Fey stood waiting.

Raze crouched slightly, hitting his bat against the ground, as if counting down in his head.

Then the doors swung open.

Viscount Luke stepped out, a chest piece strapped across his body and a sword clutched tightly in his hand.

The moment Raze saw him, he burst out laughing.

"You seriously want to fight us?" Raze said. "You look like an egg stuffed into armor."

Luke's face darkened instantly. "You should learn to respect your elders, boy."

He tightened his grip on the sword, stance surprisingly steady despite his build.

"Brother," Raze muttered dryly, "if you charge, you are going to give yourself a heart attack."

But Luke did not hesitate.

"I will not fall here!" he roared, lunging forward and slashing.

The strike was clean. Fast. Stronger than any average knight. Against a normal opponent, it would have been lethal.

But Raze was not normal. He stepped aside effortlessly, caught Luke's wrist mid-swing, and twisted.

The sword clattered to the ground.

Luke cried out as pain exploded through his arm, his legs buckling as he dropped to his knees.

"This is the end for you," Raze said calmly. "You really underestimated us."

Then Luke started laughing.

Not a nervous laugh.

Not a broken one.

A wild, victorious cackle.

He lifted his head, eyes gleaming as if he had just won.

Raze stared down at the Viscount, brows raised, genuinely puzzled by the man's laughter.

The Viscount looked up at him, blood at the corner of his mouth, eyes gleaming with malicious delight.

"Right now," he said hoarsely, "a large portion of my army is already headed toward your hometown. With the two of you gone, they'll tear it apart."

Raze's expression didn't change.

"You thought it would be that easy?" the Viscount continued, laughing harder. "You really believed someone like me wouldn't have countermeasures prepared? You may have defeated me here in Oden, but your town will fall. Everyone you love will—"

"Will you shut the hell up?" Raze interrupted.

He swung his bat without hesitation.

CRACK.

The blow slammed into the back of the Viscount's head, sending him face-first into the ground.

Raze walked over calmly, squatted beside him, and rested the bat against the stone floor.

The Viscount looked up at him, shock and confusion replacing his smug grin.

"Did you really think I was that stupid?" Raze asked quietly. "Did you honestly believe your first attack failed because of luck?"

He lifted the bat and tapped it against the Viscount's head.

"You're sloppy."

Another tap.

"No foresight."

Another.

"And fat."

Raze stood up, rolling his shoulders.

"Your brain doesn't work well enough to deceive someone like me, so stop lying to yourself," he said flatly. "If you think you still have some hidden surprise left, forget it. There's no way you're winning this."

The words had barely left his mouth.

BOOM.

The entire manor exploded.

Stone, wood, and debris were launched in every direction as a massive skeletal dragon burst free from within the structure. It was the size of the manor itself, its body formed entirely of bones fused together, with a pulsing purplish-red flame burning inside its ribcage like a living heart.

Smoke and dust filled the air.

Raze slowly tilted his head upward, eyes wide.

"…Okay," he said after a moment. "I definitely wasn't expecting that."

Beside him, Fey stared at the towering undead dragon in stunned silence.

On the ground, the Viscount's eyes were wide open, his grin slowly returning.

"Hahahahaha!" He burst into another fit of laughter, seeing that his sons had done what had to be done. Their sacrifice wasn't in vain.

[...]

A few moments earlier, the Viscount's sons, Kase and Eric, rushed through the manor as fast as they could.

They descended toward the basement, passing through the wine cellar and continuing deeper underground until the air grew colder and the stone walls closed in around them. At the end of the path stood a massive door forged of bronze and gold.

An ominous aura seeped from it.

They had only seen this door a handful of times in their lives, always when their father brought them here. He had told them that this door was something every head of the house would eventually learn about. A final trump card for desperate times. A secret weapon he had spent his entire life securing, meant to be passed down from Viscount to Viscount.

The torches lining the walls flickered as the brothers approached, casting long, dancing shadows. Their eyes remained locked on the door, engraved with massive runes and intricate carvings.

At its center was a strange indentation, shaped like a shallow bowl.

They both knew instinctively what it was for.

Eric, the elder of the two, clenched his jaw and bit into his palm. Blood welled up, and he let a single drop fall into the bowl.

Immediately, the sound of turning gears and unlocking mechanisms echoed through the chamber. The door slowly opened.

Beyond it was an empty room.

Empty, except for one thing.

At the center stood a pedestal, and atop it rested a black skull with a purple crystal embedded in its crown. It was no ordinary skull. Its shape was unmistakable.

A dragon's skull.

It was as large as a human on its own.

Both boys froze, staring at it in stunned silence.

"This… this has to be it," Kase muttered.

There was nothing else in the room. No weapon. No relic. Only the skull.

They stepped inside together.

The moment they crossed the threshold, the doors slammed shut behind them. A red magical formation ignited beneath their feet, glowing with a deep, ominous light.

"What's happening?" Eric shouted, panic creeping into his voice.

Before they could react, the formation activated.

An invisible force began ripping the life from their bodies.

Blood, essence, vitality, everything was torn away.

Their screams filled the chamber, raw and agonized, as their blood was dragged from their veins and poured into the formation. Their bodies withered rapidly, collapsing into shriveled husks as the spell consumed them entirely.

Their sacrifice completed the ritual.

The formation flared brighter, its energy surging upward into the skull.

The black surface cracked.

The purple crystal blazed.

The skull's eye sockets lit up, the darkness fading as pristine white bone revealed itself beneath.

The skull rose into the air.

Human blood.

Human life.

To resurrect the undead, the life of someone dear to the owner of the skull was required. The Viscount had used his sons without hesitation, all they wanted to do was help.

The ritual was complete.

Bones erupted from the ground, assembling piece by piece as if molded from liquid. A massive skeletal body formed, ribs locking into place as a blazing, purplish-red flame ignited where its heart should have been.

The chamber began to collapse.

The undead dragon finished forming as it burst upward, tearing through the manor in an explosion of stone, wood, and dust.

It emerged into the open air, towering above the ruins, an undead behemoth wreathed in infernal flame.

Its eyes locked onto its target.

Everything.

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