Adrian and Tulios were still head-to-head, fighting on even footing, using everything they knew against each other.

  Sokram could tell that while Adrian was trying to kill Tulios, Tulios was merely trying to calm him down, but even while holding back, he was using everything he had to survive.

  “Come on, brother! Wake up! She was just another whore. That Necromancer is playing you!” Tulios begged while deflecting Adrian’s hatred-filled blows.

  “Shut up! You snake! Backstabber! Traitor! No wonder you carry the betrayer’s name!” Adrian, overtaken by the hatred in his heart, stepped back as his spirit essence began overflowing.

  Azure flame-like energy erupted from his Core, enveloping his body, licking at the air like hungry tongues. The pressure was immense, distorting the light around him until he became a figure carved from blue fire.

  ‘Manifestation? With a Mithril Sword? What a fool.’

  Sokram thought as he stealthily removed the robes and the Death-Energy runestone around his neck, placing them back into one of his gloves and activating his Runic Blood Tattoos.

  Meanwhile, the fight continued.

  Kristy was tired and running out of energy, having killed more than ten of her previous comrades. But she couldn’t believe that Tulios's men were so much stronger.

  Adrian’s side lost too many men despite a numerical advantage. If they hadn’t tricked Mila, they would have died.

  John was down, and Sokram couldn’t see if he was dead or just wounded. Adrian and Tulios were at their limit as well.

  Knowing he couldn’t prolong the fight any longer, Adrian looked at Tulios decisively, “I gave you every chance, Tulios. It’s time to end this. So long, my backstabbing brother.”

  Adrian, with his body enveloped by his bluish flame aura as if it sharpened his very existence, stepped forward.

  The snowy ground shuddered beneath the weight of his fury. With a roar that ripped the air, Adrian dashed forward, his blade a streak of lethal blue light aimed straight for Tulios's heart.

  “Wait!” Tulios begged, but just as he was about to deflect Adrian’s blade, his arms faltered. His insistence on sparing Adrian cost more than just effort, and he wasn’t fast enough.

  Adrian's blade drove into his chest, piercing his heart and Core with a wet, meaty thud as mithril met sternum. Tulios gasped, his eyes wide, as the blade burst from his back in a shower of crimson gore, cutting his plea short.

  Without mercy, Adrian jerked the sword out and was about to behead Tulios, who had fallen on his knees, defeated, but saw Tulios pointing past his shoulders.

  Many would think that was a trick, but something in Tulios's eyes made Adrian believe him.

  “Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!”

  Sokram, already disrobed from his Necromancer disguise, applauded and approached slowly, with calm, deliberate steps.

  He wore a mocking smile as he said, “Impressive. Tulios's men were stronger and fought with the desperation of rats in a corner. Yet your side still vanquished them."

  Meeting their gazes, completely unpreoccupied, Sokram shrugged, "It was clear they were preparing for something like this, or maybe they were just better soldiers.”

  Kristy, who had just slain the last of Tulios’s men and was wounded in the process, looked back at the meek Goblin Raiser, frowning as, instead, she saw an imposing dragon walking toward them, “Necromancer… What is the meaning of this?”

  Sokram looked at the last five survivors, a mischievous smirk on his face, “You know… You people from Whiteland keep underestimating us as if we are just lambs to be taken to the slaughterhouse.”

  “But look at your state, a Commander who is just a spineless cuckold killed his own brother because of a slut. No wonder the strongest among you decided to stay by Tulios's side.”

  Sokram then looked at Kristy and said, “You’re clearly in love with this wimp, and led the others so blindly loyal that you killed your own companions. No matter how much they begged you to listen, and because of what? The words of a stranger?”

  “You…” Adrian was about to say something, but Sokram raised a hand to silence him.

  With a thought, he cast a Force spell, and gravity forced them to the ground on all fours while Sokram stood upright, untouched.

  “Me? The people of Norwinter call me The Dark Lightning Killer,” Sokram observed their reaction with some delight, seeing their eyes widening in shock.

  “I was hiding on top of that cliff outside this fort thinking how much of a hassle it would be having to kill sixty of you by myself, which was possible if I employed hit and run tactics, but as I said, too much of a hassle.”

  Sokram’s gaze met Adrian with a sneer as he now stood above John, who lay sprawled on the floor, “But now, just five? Well, six if I count the half-dead John…”

  Sokram looked down at John, grinning, “Hey, John, the magic that earned your admiration was draconic. Enter Aetherium with your heart free of guilt, alright?”

  Sokram unsheathed Draggonia and stabbed him right into his brain.

  “Puchi!” The sound was wet and obscene, a squelch of metal piercing soft tissue.

  John's body jerked once, his eyes rolling back, before slumping lifelessly against the courtyard's cold, snowy floor.

  Looking back at the others, Sokram grinned, “Well, five… definitely, five now. Easy peasy, don’t you think?”

  Sokram glanced at Adrian, barely any spirit essence left in his Core, still trying to stand, and grinned broadly.

  “But not all was a lie, she is definitely a slut.” Sokram pointed at Mila, unconscious behind him.

  Then he shrugged, “But the plot to kill you, yeah, that was on me. Also, it was true they all thought you were a fool, Commander, and I agree.”

  Sokram threw three needles.

  Leaving Kristy and Adrian for last, like a dark lightning of death, he beheaded all of Adrian’s remaining men in a flash.

  “Stop!” Adrian raged, yet he couldn’t muster the strength to move; the gravity weighing over him wouldn’t let him.

  Sokram shot a glance toward Kristy and grinned, “Don’t worry, Kristy. You won’t know the displeasure of getting with such a sorry excuse for a man. I’ll make sure of it.”

  With a thought, Sokram, still using the same Force Spell, forced Adrian’s body into an awkward kneeling bow position.

  Kristy watched in shock as Sokram, standing beside Adrian, raised Draggonia, his gaze firm on Adrian’s neck.

  “Any last words, Commander?” Sokram asked.

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  Adrian’s gaze searched the courtyard once, then fell still, hope dying in his eyes.

  Finally, he met Kristy’s gaze one last time. “I hope I see you in Aetherium. I knew how you felt about me. I was a fool. I should’ve chosen you instead.”

  His voice was a broken whisper, crawling under the weight of missed chances. Tears tracked through the blood on his face, carving clean lines of sorrow on a dying man's visage.

  “Well, let’s hope Eliora forgives you. Otherwise, Azulla's Eternal Battlegrounds will be your only reward. So long, foolish wimp of Whiteland.” Sokram's grin widened, knowing how unforgiven Eliora truly was.

  Draggonia fell without pause or hesitation. A sword light flashed as it cleaved through neck and bone, meeting no resistance as it severed the head of a broken man.

  Kristy, unable to move, watched as the head of the man she had been in love with rolled to the snowy ground, still wearing the last reassuring smile as he held her gaze.

  Her scream tore at her throat, raw and animalistic. It wasn't just anger; it was the sound of a heart being ripped out. Her cry bounced off the stone walls until it filled the entire courtyard.

  “NOOOO!!! YOU FUCKERR! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOUR WHOLE FUCKING…”

  Kristy’s fingers clawed into the snow, nails snapping as her body trembled, struggling against the increased gravity pinning her to the ground, surrounded by her dead comrades' heads.

  Yet even before she could finish screaming, the weight over her increased, knocking her head on the ground. The impact was strong enough to stun her.

  Taking advantage of it, Sokram dashed toward her, placed his hand on the back of her neck, and cast his illusion, “Dream and choose, torment or servitude. When you wake up, you will be serving me.”

  Her body went limp, and Sokram picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder, and carried her inside the dining hall.

  Then, he placed Mila beside her, releasing the cuffs from her wrists.

  He took two scrolls from his glove, along with the blood-ink, and began writing two Runic Bonding Contracts.

  He also drew two arrays and placed them at the center, wrapping the contracts around their waists, leaving them there.

  Sokram unsheathed Draggonia and went downstairs after merging himself in the shadows.

  Arriving there, he saw three guards talking, “…So, do you think it’s over? The noise stopped.”

  The second guard nodded, agreeing, and then said, “The Commander is a fool; everyone had a turn with that slut. Except for the ones from Eliora’s temple. But they all knew, and the only one who said something was Sub-Commander Kristy.”

  The third guard lowered his head and asked hesitantly, “Do you think the Commander will find out we also fucked the slut?”

  But the first guard glared at him, “Shut up! They might be coming down here soon, not another word.”

  That was when Sokram’s voice entered their ears, “Don’t worry, the commander will never find out, dead men learn no secrets.”

  “Slash! Slash! Slash!”

  Draggonia's dark blade flashed with its cold, murdering sword light three times in the same instant, and another three heads rolled.

  Their expressions of shock were frozen in death. The heads hit the floor with dull thuds, rolling like discarded melons, while their bodies stood for a horrific second before collapsing in perfect synchrony.

  Seeing that all the enemies were dead, Sokram sighed in relief as he thought, ‘I wonder if the Records will give me my favorite title once again in this timeline. The Beheader was a cool title, but Dark Lightning Killer isn’t that bad either.’

  Now, he could finally breathe as all the enemies were dead or incapacitated.

  Sokram looked through the rings he found in the guards’ bodies and found some gold and the cell keys.

  He strolled through the narrow hallway, looking at cell after cell.

  His first find was a group of merchants, all shackled to the wall with enchanted chains.

  An older lion-kin, around 1.75 meters tall, his mane was matted with grime, yet his eyes held calculating intelligence. His light olive skin seemed darker under the dungeon's dim light.

  His composure under the situation made it clear he was the group’s leader as he asked Sokram, “Young dragon, you… You’re not with them. Are you?”

  “No, I’m not. But to which merchant group do you work for?” Sokram asked back, stopping in front of the cell.

  “My name is Noum, and we’re from a small merchant group called the Old Lion Caravan,” the old man answered by habit, showing his salesman smile.

  “Oh, from the Goldenmane family, right?” Sokram smiled at them and stepped forward, acting as if he were about to unlock the cell.

  “Yes! Yes, we all work for the Goldenmane…” But his tongue got stuck when he saw the shift in Sokram’s expression.

  “It’s not good to lie to someone with your life in their hands, you know? I’m friends with the Goldenmane. They have no caravan under them.” Sokram’s gaze turned cold.

  “Sorry, please, I apologize. We used to work for the Steelhearts.” The Lion-kin admitted, lowering his head.

  “And you lied because you know who I am, right? Sigh… Wait here, I’ll come back for you after evaluating the situation.”

  Sokram then shouted into the hallway, “Who among you doesn’t work for the Steelhearts?”

  “Here, savior, please.” A desperate voice echoed from the end of the corridor.

  Sokram went there and found three Dryad Nymphs. They were stunning.

  They were between 1.6 and 1.7 meters tall, with pale, slightly greenish skin. Long red, wavy, almost curly hair that reached their waist. Green captivating eyes and bodies sculpted, perfectly curvy everywhere it mattered, even though they looked very malnourished.

  Even in rags, they radiated a primal allure. Their presence pulled at the senses like a slow, insistent tide. A call upon Sokram's draconic nature woven into flesh and blood. They were all a true vision of seduction.

  “Please, elder Niya is dying, the guards didn’t take us out for sunbathing today, she needs sunlight, but moonlight will also help.”

  Sokram could tell that was precisely the case with a single look. He quickly entered the cell and released the three of them.

  He didn’t fear being attacked because he could tell they weren’t even close to the Reformed level yet, and they were just Tier 5.

  The reason he knew they hadn’t reached the Reformed level was that once the nymphs reach it, they become a vision no hot-blooded man would ever forget.

  Sokram helped the weaker one to get upstairs but warned them, “The scene is quite… gory, so be prepared.”

  They steeled their hearts and nodded, “Thank you, sir.”

  “Call me Sokram.” Sokram flashed them a big, friendly smile. And although they didn’t smile back, Sokram could sense they relaxed a little in his presence.

  Once outside, the nymphs were shocked at the scene. Countless dismembered bodies littered the courtyard, blood steamed against the snow, and none of them could look away.

  Sokram sat the elder Niya down and fed her a pill.

  The sky was clear, and the sun had already set, but the Aether moon was full and shone brightly. And as always, her sister, the Nether Moon, was peeking at them from behind like Aether’s looming shadow.

  Sokram’s gaze fixed on the nymphs, and he watched as, under the moonlight, their skin glowed with a soft, verdant luminescence. The purple bruises faded like ink in water, knitting flesh and restoring their health and ethereal beauty in real-time.

  “Did you do all that by yourself?” One of the nymphs asked him as she averted her gaze from the multitude of corpses on the ground.

  “Kind of, I led them to believe a group was betraying the other, and they did most of the work themselves,” Sokram admitted.

  “A dragon that fights with its tongue is as dangerous as a sword master and his favorite weapon,” Elder Niya, who couldn’t even stand, spoke for the first time.

  Through her firm tone, Sokram saw that she had regained enough vitality, showing that they were probably pure-blooded Dryad nymphs.

  “Are you feeling better, elder?” Sokram asked, his tone polite and respectful.

  “Yes, child, thank you for your aid,” Niya replied with a sincere smile.

  Sokram, seeing their state, dressed in rags and malnourished, asked, “Can I ask how you were captured?”

  “It wasn’t them. It was the merchants from the Steelhearts. We were captured while going back to our village in the Sacred Continent, and then sold from merchant to merchant until we got here,” The Elder answered, full of grief.

  “I can help you go back to the Sacred Continent if you want,” Sokram offered honestly.

  But the other two lowered their heads in shame. They shrank into themselves, wrapping their thin arms around their bodies as if trying to hide from the world. Their gaze remained fixed on the blood-stained snow, unable to meet Sokram's eyes, burdened by a weight that wasn't theirs to carry.

  The elder shook her head, “No, we can’t. They tainted us. The sacred forest would never accept us back.”

  “Why didn’t the Fairy Queen protect you?” Sokram asked, frowning.

  But Elder Niya rushed to speak in the Queen’s defense, “No, it’s not Her Highness's fault. We were venturing out of the boundaries of the Sacred Forest.”

  The other younger nymphs looked even more ashamed, as one of them confessed, “It was our fault, we begged the elder to go see the sea because we had never seen it. It was such a magical day, but then…”

  Their words were swallowed by their cries.

  “Then, since the Sacred Forest won’t have you, allow me to take you under my wings. I may be young, but I can keep you safe.” Sokram offered, not only out of the kindness of his heart but also because of their natural talent for cultivating plants.

  “You would take us, dragon? Even if they took our purity from us?” Elder Niya looked surprised.

  “It wasn’t your fault. It was something forced upon you. Besides, you don’t look tainted to me; the moon of the north purified your bodies, and under my wings, your hearts can be mended too.”

  He knelt to meet her eye level, his voice softening. "As Azulla once said: The moon doesn't judge the night for being dark," he smiled gently. "And I won't judge a flower for the storm that battered it."

  The three nymphs couldn't hold back their tears at the solace his words brought them.

  Sokram offered them his hand to help them stand up. “Let’s go back inside for a while. I don’t know if there’s more of them out there. So, it’s better to be safe.”

  “Yes, but can you pay for the contracts? The slave brand of the Steelhearts is still shackling our Cores.” Niya asked apprehensively as she wiped her tears.

  “Don’t worry, the contracts are not with the merchants anymore. And the branding is easy to remove.” Sokram assured them.

  Elder Niya nodded, relieved, but there was still apprehension in her heart because she heard that while most dragons treasured their nymphs like delicate flowers, others treated them like toys.

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