Around the 666th session, during the time of the Summer Spirit Festival. “No way, I can’t go with you two!”
The silver dragon declared as such, then beat her massive wings against the air and kicked down from the peak of a rocky mountain with her powerful legs. Her name is Leila.
Then, the black dragon Lyra, in response, entrusted her master, her closest friend, and the friend who had become her subordinate to the following Maya, taking flight to intercept them in the sky. “Diane… I’ll leave both of you in their care.”
Dragon against dragon. And the guardians of this world’s last stronghold, sworn to one another.
Clad within their hearts with mutual understanding and fueled by the pride that they are the strongest, Lyra unleashed a roar, driving her own massive black form into the silver giant soaring upward from below at an unhesitating speed.
”…Dreams?” Lyra muttered softly.
Dragons do not sleep. They have no need to. Many other races believe this—and it is nearly true. One can live without sleeping; one can rest while standing or sitting, even while flying through the sky. They require little time for sleep—awakening after just a few minutes at most, rarely exceeding an hour.
Sleep isn’t driven by biological necessity as with humans. It may be akin to that human sensation of simply “zoning out.” Yet, for a dragon, it holds deep significance as a form of self-exploration.
Dragons possess power far beyond anything in this mortal realm—power so overwhelming that they seem unconstrained by any limits. For such beings, allowing their consciousness to surrender into the darkness and sensing what lies beyond is profoundly important. Experiencing dreams offers one perspective; feeling the moment of self-dissolution without dreaming offers another. Both are quietly regarded as crucial steps in objectively understanding the value of one’s own existence.
“Do I dwell on my own glorious deeds…? By my own standards, I am still quite pitiful.”
The fierce collision shattered both dragons’ scales, sending them scattering through the air. The armored carapace of a dragon, difficult for even a human to injure, offers little protection when one dragon strikes another.
Yet beneath that lies muscle coiled with unimaginable strength, bones supporting its form, and above all—a miraculous healing ability that regenerates before their very eyes. Amid the sheer power of dragons, scales are merely skin-deep.
The two beasts rebounded from the impact. Lyra bounced upward like a ball returning to the sky; Leila descended vertically under the force of gravity.
In aerial combat, attacking from above is inherently advantageous—but Leila was fully aware of that. “What a pain.”
Against the silver dragon who had just barely avoided direct ground impact, Lyra relentlessly dove downward with zero mercy. Physically, she held the upper hand as a fire dragon. It was foolish for her opponent to stand on the ground waiting in defiance.
Lyra unleashed her frustration in full force. Leila evaded the crushing blow by deliberately maintaining her falling velocity until the very last moment, skimming just above the earth and kicking off from the ground like a bird gliding low.
The black dragon’s talons gouged deeply into the rocky mountainside—but— “So you thought you could get caught this way?”
Using the claw embedded in the earth as a fulcrum, Lyra swung her entire body in a semicircle before landing smoothly, then instantly sprinted with the agility of a beast. She chased down Leila—who had become unsteady from using the ground while airborne—and pounced again, slamming her down to the earth at last.
Of course, accelerating rapidly is faster than pushing against soft air—it’s far quicker to kick off solid ground. Still, most dragons besides Lyra might never have managed the shift from sensing flight like soaring birds to moving like running beasts on land.
“I’ve got you!”
“Not yet!”
Leila pressed her four legs firmly into the earth, leaped upward once more, and attempted to soar back into the sky.
But Lyra seized her tail, folded her wings, and wrapped them around herself in a spin, driving the silver dragon back to earth once more and smashing beneath its weight.
The wasteland where two colossal bodies, stretching sixty meters each, engaged in hand-to-hand combat continued to tremble from the impact.
Yet Lyra’s second strike still hadn’t inflicted truly effective damage on Leila.
A battle between dragons renowned for their regenerative capabilities doesn’t end simply because both suffered deep wounds twice or thrice; these were barely mere probes, never even reaching the depth of serious injury. “Showy takeoff now, but once I close in, all you do is run.” “Nonsense… Black Dragon, I’ll bring you down for my master’s sake.” “Hmm.”
Leila severed her own tail. Spewing blood as she fled, the silver dragon escaped; this time, Leila regenerated it and launched herself powerfully into the sky to unleash a Blizzard Breath. “Ugh!”
Dragons are immune to breath attacks from their own species. However, for Lyra, a fire dragon, ice—the opposing element—while more enduring than ordinary races can handle, certainly isn’t ineffective.
Her limbs began freezing solid, strength failing her almost instantly. For an ordinary race, this would be catastrophic; such intense cold could shatter flesh and tissue in the blink of an eye.
But that was true for both of them. “Don’t underestimate me.”
Lyra muttered, unleashing her own flames. The fire erupted from her mouth caused the frozen world to expand violently, triggering an explosion. Moisture condensed in the air instantly transformed back into steam within the inferno, enveloping the space between the two dragons in a thick curtain of white vapor.
Since the damage from freezing couldn’t be undone merely by warming up, Lyra poured her own vitality into healing herself while chasing Leila through the sky.
This time, Leila took the high ground. Ice dragons tend toward superior flight capabilities; she must have assumed that if she secured a commanding position in the air, she wouldn’t lose to Lyra.
But Lyra chased her down while sneering. “Do you think I’m merely a simple fire dragon? Or just a plain black dragon?”
Ice dragons are reputed to excel in flight not due to physical attributes, but because their perception allows them to sense wind currents and atmospheric shifts more keenly.
It’s an ability crucial for long-distance soaring; slight differences accumulate over time, resulting in a massive gap.
But if it only involves flying fast and maneuvering the body, that’s another story entirely.
Lyra forced herself to fly even faster, outpacing Leila’s movements. “Ugh!” “I commend any will to act cunningly in hopes of victory. But—”
Lyra’s claw pierced Leila’s belly. “A dragon’s power is violence. Only by living true to our nature, fueled by the fervor needed to crush impossibility, can we make the impossible possible.” “You’re saying things you know nothing about.” “I’ve witnessed miracles. And I’ve continued to watch.”
Even while taking Leila’s counterattack upon herself, Lyra pressed another blow, inflicting further damage.
Before crashing to the ground, they separated, casting blood and scales in their wake, continuing conversations between dragons that sounded like roaring shouts to any bystanders. “It’s not just mere chance; what calls itself a miracle requires far more than that to manifest. Unless you’re prepared to transcend even your own limits.” “A ‘miracle’ won’t suffice. What I can do… is what I can do.” “I will create a miracle. We shall create miracles. Regardless of what you become, follow Andy Samson.”
Once again, they clashed. Straight on, at equal altitude, head-on.
And at that moment, the disparity in their power became unmistakably clear.
The black dragon’s raw power overwhelmed the silver dragon, which was clearly pushed back and repelled.
“If you dedicate yourself to your own fate, then so be it. Such a one would never rival us anyway; it is an easy battle.” “Leave me to say what I wish.” Leila righted her posture and stood in defiant opposition against the black dragon hovering above with haughty grace. Claws capable of shattering stone houses at will, teeth strong enough to consume a horse in a single bite—she strained mightily to knock Lyra down with those very weapons. Yet Lyra’s claws struck faster; her biting jaw was repelled by hardened fists lifted upward. Just as the black dragon cowered from a close-range fire breath that seared its face, Lyra delivered a vertical spinning tail strike that slammed Leila back down to earth where the silver dragon had just shaken the ground itself before rebounding. Lyra then plummeted downward with accelerated speed from the air, stomping twice like she was gouging out Leila’s neck and side in one fluid motion. Still, despite those wounds, Leila healed them and rose again.
“Still… I cannot retreat yet.”
“As you wish,” came the reply.
Instant separation.
Leila, launching from a frantic gallop, threw her body forward using her front legs as an axis, and unleashed an attack by sweeping her tail diagonally toward Lyra.
Lyra met it head-on; the silver dragon’s body lifted off the ground only to roll across the terrain afterward.
“My turn now.”
Chasing after the rolling silver dragon, Lyra copied its move with a tail strike of her own. That single blow swung horizontally and landed cleanly, sending Leila catapulted away in a surprisingly lively arc.
Even so.
Even then, Leila rose once more to face the black dragon.
Her attacks did find their mark; they were not ineffective. They reached their target without fail.
Relying on that certainty…
As though she were praying…
”…Or perhaps, in a way, there was something fascinating about how it lived as a dragon. No, no.”
Lyra scratched her head, looked around the vicinity, and smiled gently.
“After all, battles are merely foolish instincts. The present moment is far better.”
She gazed at the figures of women who appeared blissful, held close by their own keepers.
For a fleeting instant, she wondered if that dragon, too, knew such joy.