Around episode 666, the time of the “Summer Spirit Festival.” “Therefore, I cannot go with you!”
The silver dragon spoke these words, then beat its massive wings against the air and kicked down from the peak of the rocky mountain with its powerful legs.
Her name is Leila.
And Black Dragon Lyra, in response, entrusted her master, her closest friend, and the companion who had become her subordinate to the following Maia, and met them in the sky.
“Diane… I’ll leave the two of you in your care.”
Dragon against dragon. And those who have sworn themselves as the final guardians of their own world.
With empathy hidden within their hearts, and burning with the pride that they are the strongest, Black Dragon Lyra let out a roar and slammed her black massive body into the silver giant rising from below at an unhesitating speed.
”…A dream, is it?” Lyra whispered softly.
Dragons do not sleep; there is no need for them to. Many other races believe this, and it is close to the truth. They can live without sleeping, whether standing, sitting, or flying through the air. The time needed for sleep is also not long; even if they do sleep, they awaken after only a few minutes at most, never exceeding an hour. It is not driven by a desire for sleep. For humans, it might be akin to the sensation of “zoning out.”
Yet, for dragons, this was something important as a form of self-exploration. Dragons possess power so great that they can claim to be stronger than anything in the mortal world and capable of achieving anything their will dictates. For such dragons, surrendering their consciousness to the darkness and sensing what lies beyond it is a crucial matter.
Dreaming is one thing; feeling the moment when one’s self vanishes from within oneself without dreaming is another. This process is secretly regarded as profoundly important for objectively evaluating the value of one’s own existence.
“Am I reminiscing about my own glorious exploits…? Truly, I am still quite pitiful.”
The fierce collision shattered both dragons’ scales, sending them scattering through the air. Dragon armor, which even human strength struggles to wound, offers little protection in a clash between dragons. Yet beneath it lie muscles harboring unimaginable power, bones supporting them, and above all, a miraculous healing ability that regenerates before one’s very eyes.
Among the strengths of creatures known as dragons, scales are merely a superficial layer.
The two dragons bounced off each other from the impact. Lyra rose back into the sky like a ball rebounding to the ground, while Leila descended straight downward under the influence of gravity.
In aerial combat, attacking from above is indeed advantageous. However, Leila was fully aware of this.
“What an annoyance.” Against the silver dragon who had just barely avoided crashing to the ground, Lyra relentlessly dove down upon her.
Physically, she holds the advantage over herself as a fire dragon. Yet, for someone to meet her attack from below merely to show resolve is foolishness. Lyra unleashed her frustration with a crushing blow.
Leila evaded this heavy strike by deliberately maintaining her falling speed until the very last moment, skimming just above the ground and kicking off it as she flew. The black dragon’s claws gouged deeply into the mountain’s surface. However—
“Did you think that would catch me?” Using the claw embedded in the ground as a pivot, Lyra swung her entire body in a semicircle to land, then immediately sprinted away with the agility of a beast. She did not let go of Leila, who was stumbling from using the ground while flying, and leapt forward to slam her down to the earth once more.
Of course, when accelerating rapidly, it is natural that kicking against the earth yields greater speed than pushing through soft air.
Though for dragons other than Lyra, shifting abruptly from the sensation of a bird soaring in the sky to the rush of a beast running across the ground may have been impossible.
“I’ve got you!”
“Not yet.”
Leira strained all four limbs, leaped upward, and attempted to rise into the air once more.
But Lyra seized her tail, folded her wings, wrapped herself around them in a horizontal spin, slammed the silver dragon back onto the ground, pinned her down, and crushed beneath her own weight.
The wilderness where two colossal bodies, each sixty meters long, engaged in combat continued to tremble from the impact.
Yet even Lyra’s repeated strikes had not yet delivered a decisive blow to Leira.
A battle between dragons renowned for their resilience would not end after one or two severe wounds; this was merely a preliminary skirmish, falling short of inflicting true damage.
“You took off with such bravado, only to flee when the moment came.”
“Impossible… Black Dragon, I shall bring you down for my master’s sake!”
“Hmph.”
Leira severed her own tail. As blood sprayed around her, the silver dragon escaped; now regaining her footing, she regenerated her tail and soared powerfully into the sky, unleashing a Blizzard Breath.
“Ugh!”
Breaths from the same species are ineffective against dragons. Yet for Lyra, a Fire Dragon, ice—the opposite element—was not entirely useless, though it could be endured better than by ordinary races.
Her frozen limbs gradually lost strength. For an ordinary being, such cold would be unbearable; in moments, their very tissues would crumble apart.
But the same applied to both.
“Don’t underestimate me.”
Lyra muttered, releasing her inner flame.
The fire expelled from her mouth caused the rapidly frozen world to expand and explode.
Moisture condensed in the air instantly turned back into steam within the inferno, enveloping the space between the two dragons in a thick veil of white smoke.
Since the damage from freezing could not be undone merely by warming up, Lyra poured her own vitality into healing herself while pursuing Leira through the sky.
This time, Leira gained the upper hand.
Ice Dragons tend to excel in flight; perhaps she believed that if she secured a proper position in the air, she could match Lyra.
But as Lyra pursued her, she mocked her resolve.
“Did you think this Lyra was nothing more than a mere Fire Dragon, or just another Black Dragon?”
The reason Ice Dragons are said to dominate the skies lies not in physical prowess, but in their superior perceptual ability to sense wind currents and atmospheric shifts—a crucial skill for long-distance flight, where even minor differences accumulate into significant advantages.
However, if one simply flies fast and maneuvers well, that is a different matter entirely.
Lyra pushed herself beyond her limits, flying faster than ever before, surpassing Leira’s movements.
“Ugh!”
“I commend any dragon who schemes cleverly and strives to win. But—”
One of Lyra’s claws pierced Leira’s abdomen.
“A dragon’s true power lies in violence. Without the fervor to overcome impossibility by fulfilling one’s own nature, how can one ever succeed?”
“You speak as if you know something I don’t.”
“I have witnessed miracles. I have continued to witness them.” While taking the counterattack upon herself, Layra delivers another blow, inflicting further damage.
Before they crash to the ground, they part ways, scattering blood and scales as they continue their dragon-like conversation, which sounds nothing more than roars to an outside observer.
“It is not mere chance that draws forth something worthy of being called a miracle; it requires resolve beyond what can be achieved even with full determination.”
“A miracle isn’t necessary. All I need… is what I can do.”
“I shall create the miracle. We shall create the miracle. No matter how you act, follow Andy Smythe.”
Once again, they collide—head-on, at equal height, directly facing one another. And at that moment, the disparity in their power becomes unmistakably clear. The silver dragon is decisively overpowered by the black dragon’s might and sent flying backward.
“If you are willing to sacrifice yourself for your fate, then so be it. Such a being can never stand against me. This will be an easy fight.”
“Leave me to speak my mind!”
Layra regains her footing, defying the black dragon that hovers above with arrogant composure.
She swings claws capable of effortlessly blowing away stone houses and bites down with fangs strong enough to crush a horse in a single snap, striving to bring Layra crashing to the earth. Yet Layra’s claws strike faster, piercing through; her bite is countered by a solid punch that sends her flying, only for her to be scorched on the face by a fire breath from close range and cower—right then, Layra’s vertical spinning tail strike knocks her down once more to the ground.
As the silver dragon rebounds, shaking the earth beneath her, Layra accelerates mid-air and descends, delivering a stomp that tears into Layra’s neck and ribs with both hind legs. Still, even so, Layra heals her wounds and rises again.
“Not yet… I will not retreat.”
“Very well.”
In an instant, they separate.
Layra leaps forward from her frantic charge, throwing her body off balance using her front legs as an axis, and unleashes a diagonal tail swipe aimed at Layra. Layra meets the attack with a direct collision; the silver dragon’s body lifts into the air before rolling across the ground.
“Next time, I’ll take the lead.” Chasing the rolling silver dragon, Layra mimics her own move and strikes with her tail. The horizontal blow lands cleanly, sending Layra airborne in an almost satisfyingly high arc.
Even so… Even still, Layra rises and challenges the black dragon anew.
Her attacks are not entirely ineffective; they do reach their mark. Relying on that. As if in prayer…
”…Or perhaps, in its own way, I find such a life fascinating for a dragon. No.” Layra scratches her head, surveys her surroundings, and smiles.
“After all, battles are merely boring instincts. This moment is far better.” The sight of women being held by their masters, looking blissfully content. Suddenly, she wonders: does this dragon truly understand such joy?