The Weeping Swordsman

The blade of Naga.

Forged by celestial smiths, it had passed through the hands of the Falcrest family for countless generations.

In it lies the spirit of the great serpent.

Her venom coursed through its iron veins. It is truly one of the greatest swords created in this world—a weapon of both beauty and horror.

“And I lend it to a child like you,” a man said, disgusted. His face was shrouded in darkness.

Syringes and shards of broken glass littered the cold, stone floor. Bloodstains smeared across the surface, mingling with bloodied bandages.

Pasta’s breath came in ragged gasps. His head throbbed, pounding from the relentless mental training. A traditional training, his family had spent years perfecting. Every nerve in his body was numbed by the treatment and torture his master had inflicted upon him.

Sweat mingled with the blood on his skin.

“Your father found you worthy. Not that he had a choice. You are his only son, after all. Even when you failed as a brother,” the man said, tapping his finger on the table.

Pasta gritted his teeth. He had lost someone; his family had. As punishment, he was sent here, deep below the ground, to train under the general and continue taking his treatment.

“Your life force grows strong, but your ambition is pitiful,” the man said. “Measly as a skinned cat. For a boy of just twelve, you are strong. The blood of Falcrest flows in your veins indeed—”

“Cut the crap and get to the point,” Pasta raised his head. “Zyrion”

A young Zyrion walked out of the darkness.

“You are not angry, are you?” Zyrion asked. “This is supposed to be a celebration, yes? You can finally be free from here and be knighted by your beloved sister”

Pasta frowned. “Hand me the sword”

Zyrion clicked his tongue. He retrieved a box from the corner and opened it with deliberate slowness, revealing a sword resting inside. The hilt was etched with intricate symbols, and the blade gleamed a dark, venomous green.

Pasta held it high up, admiring its glow in the faint light.

Zyrion turned away with a grin. “The blade of an evil entity. Use it well, Pasta”

He fell to the floor, a smile on his face. Years of training and in a few days, it’ll all be over. He will soon be knighted and then go fight a lot of tough opponents. This was just the first step; his excitement couldn’t hold it. He gripped his sword, remembering Zyrion. There was a particular monster he always wanted to fight.

*

The beast growled.

“Naga”

Pasta tried to calm himself, but the pressure overwhelmed him. It was as if the energy in the room increased every time he reached for his sword.

Does the beast know of the serpent? He wondered.

The dragon sniffed. “You’re not.” it came closer to Pasta. “Naga”

The presence he felt was similar to last time. When he saw Mr Swordsman’s gift in action. The dragon was similar to the beast he saw in the skies. His life force had far surpassed it.

“Why is she so quiet?” the dragon asked.

Perplexed, but that wasn’t on his mind. Pasta was so terrified, that he could not display any other emotion, like confusion.

The dragon turned back, his body still resting on the floor. “How long? How many stars died?”

Pasta tried reaching for his sword but was stopped by the beast’s voice. This time softer, almost beckoning. “Boy, don’t fret. Have a seat”

Pasta couldn’t stop shaking. Being relaxed was impossible. His coating was on the verge of breaking. What sort of force was this? He held his sword, moving forward. Step by step, he strolled toward the beast.

Slay it before it attacks, he thought. He may die. This was what he wanted, after all. Killing a dragon.

“I’m sorry, Naga. Your eyes. I can’t feel them.” The beast turned to Pasta. Light escaped into the domain, casting itself on the dragon’s face. “Why so quiet? You must still be angry. Don’t worry, it’s okay now, I’ll make things right”

Pasta could see it clearly. His eyes were blank. His wings bore holes as he lay in his pool of blood.

“Kill me, child,” he whispered to himself. “End my burden”

“You’re blind,” Pasta finally said. He felt the pressure reduce. He wasn’t scared anymore. It felt like a rock had been lifted off his shoulders. He scanned the room. Dead flowers were in the corner, and an empty bowl and a pile of books were also there. The dragon coughed.

“I am deeply sorry for corrupting your eyes with this sight. You must be tired, have a seat”

The intense energy had completely vanished without a trace. It was like there was no one in front of him. He didn’t conceal his life force, but something more. Pasta felt faint but powerful sparks of force around him. The dragon had created a peculiar space around him, a sanctuary free from its overwhelming presence. Was this even possible?

The dragon closed his wings and crawled on the floor to a more comfortable position.

Pasta’s stomach rumbled. He immediately held it in. This wasn’t the right time.

“I am deeply sorry. I have no food here”

“No, no. There’s no need,” Pasta moved his hands and then immediately stopped. It felt like he was acting like someone else, but he just didn’t know who.

“She says, you are a good boy. Are you a good boy?” The dragon asked, in a humorous tone. He was bad at it.

“I am the mighty Pasta so yeah. I’m pretty good,” he said, hands to waist. He dropped his arms, suddenly self-conscious about who he was conversing with.

The dragon rested his head on the floor. “She’s quiet again”

Pasta asked, glancing at his sword, then back to the dragon. “Did you know her?”

“Yes.”

Pasta stood and sat on the floor next to the dragon. “Can you tell me about her?”

The dragon growled. But it sounded more of a chuckle to Pasta. “Why is she so quiet? Ask her yourself?”

Pasta unsheathed his sword. “You keep saying she’s quiet. How can I ask a sword? Swords don’t speak, you know”

“Sword?”

“Yeah, my sword. What’s wrong?”

The dragon roared, a sound so powerful it shook the very foundation of the dungeon. Pasta stumbled to the floor, his aura coating, shattering under the force of the dragon’s presence. Yet, to his surprise, his body remained unharmed.

Rocks rained down from the ceiling, crashing around him.

The dragon rested his head back on the floor. “I am sorry, I am sorry. Forgive me. I beg you, please,” he said, closing his eyes. “Pasta, may I… touch her?”

Pasta hesitated, but he brought his sword close to the dragon. However, he was stopped halfway.

“That’s enough,” he whispered to Pasta.

“Dragons don’t cry. Our tears burn before they ever escape our eyes. I can’t weep for you, only scream and hurt myself. My flame and spirit… they have died out. I want to be with you.... both of you.”

Pasta felt sympathy for the beast. What had Naga been to this dragon? And what terrible fate had befallen her? His family had always taught him that Naga was a serpent of terror, a being slain by their great ancestor before he died to her poison. Her spirit was trapped in the sword he now carried. It now served as a heirloom to the first child of his family.

He rested his head on the dragon’s forehead.

His eyes went blank. For a moment, far back in time. He saw flashes. Memories lost through time.

*

The stars twinkled against the vast, bright blue sky, where multiple moons hovered above. It felt like another world. He saw the dragon—whole, without sores or injuries marring its wings. A small girl with long dark hair sat atop him, her smile brighter than the starry skies.

Beside them ran a giant white wolf with striking blue stripes, its paws gliding through the air. The wolf’s eyes sparkled with joy, and it exchanged a knowing smile with the dragon.

“What’s going on?”

He turned away, appearing in a field. Now, the girl was older, resting against the dragon’s side while her hand gently stroked the wolf’s fur. In her other hand, she held a book, reading to them.

“The king slew them all, plunging them into a fate of hunger and death. Swords and arrows flew, staining the sky with the blood of the village men. The wrath spread like a plague, killing them all”

“What a vile king. He should perish deep within the underworld,” the dragon said.

The wolf shook her head, disagreeing. “A more… Let’s say lighter punishment should be given. Like cutting off his arms and legs, then plunging into the deepest parts of the underworld”

The girl laughed, her air swayed in the wind. She stared at Pasta.

He watched in silence. Is she seeing him? He wondered.

The girl smiled.

Pasta found himself in a dimly lit room, standing next to a table cluttered with glass cylinders and bottles. Some of the bottles contained colourful, bubbling liquids that seemed almost alive.

“I did it, guys!” the girl screamed, still smiling. She held a bottle of liquid, showing it to a tall, handsome man in a flowing robe. His long hair cascaded past his shoulders, wrapping itself on the floors.

A girl took a look too. She had white hair that barely reached her shoulders. She had pointy ears and wore a flowery dress that was too short. Her eyes glittered like stars, something he had never seen before.

Pasta’s breath caught in his throat—this was them. The dragon and the wolf from before. Is the wolf actually an elf?

“Goodness, I forgot the sample, hold this.” The girl said, lending the glass to the dragon.

She walked towards Pasta. Panicked, he tries to figure out a way to avoid her path. But he was right between the table and the wall. And what was behind him was more wall.

He screamed, closing his mouth, hoping they didn’t hear him. The girl walked through Pasta, picking up a little jar.

“Wha-? “Pasta mumbled. Was he dead? No, no. This was a memory, he wasn’t really there. If this memory belonged to the dragon so does it mean.

The girl disposed of the liquid into the jar, shaking.

From it, a flurry of colourful butterflies burst forth, filling the room with vibrant shades of blue, purple, and gold. Their wings shimmered as they flew, casting glimmers of light across the walls.

Pasta stared in awe, mesmerized by the beauty of it all. He reached out to one.

“Making more things poisonous, aren’t you,” the dragon said, shaking his head but after giving a bright smile. “I’m so proud of you”

Poison? Pasta wondered. The butterflies flew through any object leaving behind a smoking hole.

The wolf hit the dragon on the back. “Proud? Aren’t you supposed to be all-knowing? You should know better. Butterflies don’t scare evildoers. Try something... intimidating.”

The dragon nodded in agreement, “True, but this... this is beautiful as it is. Any more, and we might create something far too breathtaking to handle.”

Pasta blinked and appeared in a small village. He was right—this had to be a memory. But he wasn’t dead… or at least, he didn’t think he was.

The guy must be the dragon and the other must be the wolf, he thought. Is the girl-

“Naga, it’s time we depart,” the dragon’s deep voice called out, holding a sack slung over one shoulder.

The girl—Naga—was older now, around Pasta’s age. Her hair flowed down, matching the length of the wolf.

“Almost done here,” she said, placing a piece of fruit into the hands of a mother and her daughter sitting at the village’s entrance. She smiled warmly at them.

The wolf, Aurelis, tugged her by the hood. “Finally, let’s go already”

Naga waved the family a playful goodbye before turning to Aurelis. “I swear, one day, I’ll kill you a million times and feed you to the undead,” she grinned.

Aurelis met her gaze, her eyes a bit teary. Naga began laughing.

“You look so terrified”

“S-Shut up!” she stammered. “Valdorith! She’s scaring me again!”

He sighed, strolling past Pasta without a glance.

“You’re too attached to humans,” Aurelis said. “Self-centered, corrupt… every one of them”

Naga chuckled. “Yes, Aurelis. They are. Also greedy, selfish… always deceiving each other and exploiting the rest. But,” she said with a smile, “some are kind-hearted, caring, passionate about the things they love, ambitious and so much more”

Valdorith smirked. “Our terrifying Naga, speaking kindly of humans? How unsettling.”

“Unsettling, huh? Want me to show you something really unsettling? I could inject you with my latest batch.” she said with a grin. “I just don’t like seeing them hurt, that’s all”

“Hey, what about me?” the dragon grumbled. “I deserve a little sympathy, too.”

“I can hurt you all day-”

Before she could finish, her head met a solid thud against a rock as Aurelis yanked her forward.

Valdorith laughed at her. “Karma for your wicked plans, Naga.”

She pouted, crossing her arms. She couldn’t wait to get home and continue her experiments.

“He is so happy,” Pasta said with a smile as they walked to the distance.

The sky turned red.

Soldiers rushed around him, shouting war cries, armour clanging. Pasta reached for his sword—only to find it wasn’t there.

“We must protect our homeland!”

They roared in battle.

“We must fight!”

“If not for us but our homes, our children. Charge!”

Pasta turned to see the desolate field of red. Soldiers fighting the other.

“Above! Bring down the beast!”

Aurelis

She darted across the sky, dodging the arrows that were shot at her.

“What’s happening now?” Pasta muttered, hearing a loud scream echoing through the battlefield. It shook the earth, filled with rage, fear, and a familiar, terrifying energy.

It was his sword.

No, it couldn’t be.

He ran through the battlefield. He ran through the warriors but was still terrified by all the blood, screams and explosions. The smell of the dead made him feel like throwing up. He didn’t know what pushed him, what he felt. All he could do was run. Something bad had happened.

He wanted to know.

He needed to know.

Reaching the edge of a cliff, he froze,

“DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HER!!!”

Aurelis’s voice echoed across the battlefield, shaking the very ground beneath him. The earth quaked violently as if the world itself were breaking apart.

Blood stained the sand, and soldiers’ bodies piled on the beach.

Ships, numerous amounts of them covering the sea.

“RUN NAGA. RUN!” Aurelis cried out. “I’LL TAKE CARE OF THEM”

Pasta’s hands shook. Was that Naga?

The same beautiful girl from just a second ago?

She was different?

She stood tall, her body glistening with her venomous tongue protruding. Naga was a colossal serpent.

“Fire!”

Canons from the ships fired at her. She stood still taking in the shots.

More shots were fired to Aurelis, but she commanded the rocks to blast through them.

“What do you think, you’re doing? Get out of there!”

Naga met the Aurelis eyes. “I guess this experiment was a failure”

“You changed so what! What failure! You didn’t wish for this,” the wolf turned back to its human form. The stars in her eyes were gone. Tears flowing down. “So what, you’re still Naga. You’re no monster! Tell me to save you. I will. You know I will”

Naga locked eyes with her. “It’s because I’m not a monster. That’s why I won’t do anything”

“It does not matter! Just tell me to do it. I’ll bring everything down. To it’s knees!,” she cried. “Naga!”

Pasta appeared on one of the ships. He wiped his eyes Nearby, a man stood at the railings—bare-chested. The commander walked to him.

“Looks like we may not be needing you here. This monstrosity will soon be dealt with,” the commander said.

“No,” the man whispered.

“I didn’t hear you”

The man stood at the railings of the ship. “Someone’s coming. A strong one,” he said reaching for his sword.

Pasta followed the man’s gaze, his heart skipping a beat as a deafening cry echoed from above. He looked up, barely able to contain the smile spreading across his face.

Dragons.

A horde of them, their scales gleaming like jewels against the crimson sky. Leading them was a beast larger than all the others, his mighty wings casting shadows over the battlefield.

“The king of dragons,” the commander fell on his knees. “A true dragon. One not born of an offspring. Valdorith, the father of dragons.”

As the dragon king descended, the other dragons joined the battle, tearing through the battleships with fiery breath and sharp claws.

The man at the railings whispered something under his breath, unsheathing his sword. He jumped to the skies. With a single swing, the air seemed to split open—a flash of lightning tearing across the sky, slicing through the water and mountains. The powerful strike sent a massive number of dragons crashing into the deep sea.

“Naga!” Valdorith roared as he flew toward her. His power was overwhelming, obliterating everything in his path.

The man jumped to him going for a cut. Valdorith returned to his human form to dodge the attack. The man’s sword cleaved through the ship beneath them, reducing it to shambles with a thunderous crash.

“What are you doing here with the humans, you brute?” Valdorith growled.

The man’s eyes glowed a deep, blood-red, smoke billowing from his body as his energy surged. His voice changed. “A true dragon, only a few of us remain. Yet you, Valdorith, are king of all our kind. Shouldn’t that title belong to the strongest?”

“This is no time for this, Zorakthor!” Valdorith snapped. “Another time!”

But Zorakthor’s power only grew, his aura spreading across the battlefield like wildfire sending all the dragons down. The ground trembled beneath the force of his energy.

“He’s...a dragon?” The commander’s voice quivered with fear as he cowered in place.

Pasta, though untouched by the battle’s physical blows, felt the pressure crushing him, every bone in his body on the verge of breaking. He knew if he were truly here, he’d have been dead long ago. Valdorith’s attacks were relentless, sparing none but his comrades. His mastery over energy was unparalleled.

The humans swiftly captured the dragons that had fallen to the ships, their roars silenced by the chains now binding them.

Naga, too, struggled under the immense force radiating from Zorakthor’s energy, her tough skin protecting her from the damage.

Valdorith lunged at Zorakthor, his fist crashing through the air but deliberately missing its mark. He wasn’t aiming to hit—no, Naga was too close, and the last thing he wanted was for his flames to hurt her.

The atmosphere crackled with intense heat as fire condensed into a single point, growing more volatile by the second. Valdorith clenched his teeth, focusing his power to contain the explosion, directing the flames so they wouldn’t spread. He infused some energy sending the red flame to a fiery blue. He screamed.

Pasta noticed the distortions. The world turned monochrome and normal repeatedly.

Aurelis watched. She cleaned her eyes and ran to Naga.

She tapped her. “Let’s leave now. Valdorith would handle it”

Naga nodded, following Aurelis. Ever since she transformed. Her senses heightened since her transformation, but something made her stop. She turned back to the swirling ball of energy. Something was off.

“Valdorith?”

The energy ball erupted and then vanished into thin air. Valdorith was left suspended in the air, Zorakthor’s massive hand around his throat. Blood dripped from Valdorith’s head down to his body.

“God? King?” Zorakthor mocked him. “No, you’re just a joke. I, Zorakthor, am the future of this world. Born to lead. Born to dominate. My reign to last for all eternity.”

Pasta’s eyes widened. He gritted his teeth and picked up the commander’s sword.

The commander was shocked. His sword had just disappeared.

“Leave him alone!” Pasta and Naga yelled.

Naga charged first.

Zorakthor dodged her bite. Venom going through the ground.

She wrapped herself around Valdorith.

“Are you fine?”

“Why did you come out from the shelter?” he coughed.

“I wanted to take a walk”

“A walk, you say,“ he smiled at her. “Let’s run. He’s... too powerful”

Naga shook her head. “We can’t get far with him on our tail”

“No don’t- “

He coughed up blood.

She placed him by a rock. Aurelis tended to him.

Naga charged again to Zorakthor.

Pasta tried to move, but suddenly his head ached. He fell to his knees, clutching it. What was this pain he felt? Lightning and thunder raged in the skies.

“Naga!” Valdorith screamed.

Pasta’s eyes snapped open.

Blood, dripping off her scaly body. Naga was stabbed through the heart, her voice slowly fading away.

“No!” Pasta screamed, charging at Zorakthor, the commander’s sword raised high. But as he swung, the blade passed right through Zorakthor. Pasta tumbled forward, his head slamming against a rock.

Naga’s returned to her human form, her chest still bleeding.

Valdorith struggled to rise, but his body refused to cooperate. Aurelis enraged, transformed into her true form—a majestic, towering wolf. Her roar shook the heavens, turning the skies into a swirling tempest of lightning. The ships scattered across the ocean were ripped apart by the violent waves.

She faced Zorakthor.

“Protector of the elves,” Zorakthor murmured. “You have no business here”

“She was my friend. I won’t let you live, you murderer!”

Massive stones erupt like pillars from the earth and hurtle toward Zorakthor. But he dodged them. He leapt toward her, plunging his feet into the ground to create even larger debris, which he hurled back at her.

Zorakthor swung his blade, and lightning crackled, following the debris as it flew toward Aurelis. But the earth rose at her command, forming a stone wall that absorbed the shocking strike. The debris stopped in midair, redirected to the remaining battleships, sending them crashing to the depths of the ocean.

But Aurelis’ defences weren’t enough. Zorakthor burst through the wall, his speed far surpassing hers. His blade pierced through her chest.

“Naga...forgive me,” Aurelis whispered, her strength leaving her as her eyes closed.

“No!” Valdorith, with the last of his power, transformed and caught her just before Zorakthor’s sword could go any deeper. Bleeding and battered, he took to the skies.

Zorakthor raised a finger, firing at them. They tore through Valdorith’s wings, each shot more devastating than the last. But Valdorith refused to fall. His grip on Aurelis tightened. He escaped

Zorakthor groaned, turning to the body. She may be dead but her energy was still alive. Her soul hasn’t shattered.

He faced the battalion of ships. “Children of the former king, your leader awaits you. Adore him, worship him, for he is the true one among others. One of strength, one of vigour. He awaits you all, so wait patiently.”

“I see, the body of a fallen,” a man wearing a white robe covering his face said. He appeared out of nowhere.

Pasta still sat by the bolder, gritting his teeth and holding back his tears. The man he saw had a spiral behind him. Were the others not seeing it?

Zorakthor, with a final nod, collapsed to the ground, his body lifeless. The vessel had served its purpose.

The robed figure turned toward Naga, hands clasped together in what looked like a prayer. “Rid the world of evil”

“You bastard!” Pasta yelled, picking up his sword and running to the man.

“Silence, child,” he stretched his hand, pushing him to the rock.

“You can… see me,” Pasta said, shocked. Wasn’t this just a memory?

The man raised a finger as Naga’s body elevated. Pasta fell to the floor.

“Hey! Come back!”

The man didn’t hear him.

He took her body to one of the ships. As Pasta reached out, his vision blurred. When he blinked, the ship and sea had vanished, replaced by endless dunes of sand.

A desert.

He bowed his head. What was that? Did Naga really die? He shakes his head, getting rid of the thought. But he saw it all. It all made sense.

Naga

She was turned to that. Her soul smelted like it was some sort of ingredient. He clenched his fist. Those bastards.

“It’s hot,” Valdorith said, his body sprawled across the burning sand, blood trailing from his wounds.

“I’ll take my spiritual form and join her soon,” Aurelis beside him whispered, barely able to stand.

Valdorith glanced over at her. “I knew you would say that.”

She was the only reason they ever associated. This was meant to be.

Aurelis struggled to rise. “Before I go… I’ll give you a gift.”

“You never gave me one before,” Valdorith said with a weak smile. “So why now?”

“Let’s make this the first, then,” she said, her voice sad and weary. “Naga’s gone. She’ll never return. You, on the other hand… you’ll survive. Who knows how long, but if you do recover, promise me—don’t seek revenge.”

Valdorith let out a soft chuckle, though it quickly turned into a cough. “You, of all people, telling me that?”

She smiled, but it was hollow. “I’m surprised, too,” she said, turning her gaze to the blazing sun above them. “Who knew a little girl could change someone so much”

“You seem… happy,” he said.

“Of course. I’ll meet her soon.” She gave him a sidelong glance, her smile faint. “I bet now you wish you were me.”

Her words broke something within him. Valdorith smiled back. A single tear trailed down his scaly cheek as he lowered his head. Aurelis did the same.

She stepped forward, howling at the sun. The desert quaked in response. A storm brewed in the skies, turning the burning heat into something cool. Wind twisted and roared, and the sand beneath their feet transformed.

The desert transformed into a vast, snowy island. Rising from the centre, the Demir of grandeur took shape. But now it was called the tomb of Valdorith. The dragon king.

Pasta stood still, eyes wide, but his heart heavy with sorrow. The monument before him radiated with energy, but it wasn’t joy that lingered in the air—it was pain. The pain of creating a grave for her dear friends and herself. She created three entrances.

One for her, to respect the nature of her people. One of peace. One Naga would love.

The other shows her hatred for humans.

The last symbolizing her decisions. If there was a change somewhere in time, would this outcome be prevented? No, whatever she did may have its own consequences.

Each path led to the Dragon King, who would live for all eternity, carrying the weight of their memories.

As the storm died down, she faded away. Pasta found himself standing beside Valdorith once again. Time felt distorted, speeding up as the world around him continued to move while he remained still.

Adventurers came and went, too frightened by the energy to explore deeper into the tomb. Some came to seek advice from the ancient dragon. Others, cowardly, would mock him before leaving.

Some read him books

One intrigued Pasta, a short figure with the same distinctive hat as Mr Swordsman. He dropped a bowl of sake at Valdorith’s feet and spoke words that Pasta could not hear.

Time sped up.

A giant of a man, shirtless and scarred from countless battles, approached with a solemn expression. He didn’t speak. Instead, he placed a bundle of flowers before Valdorith and nodded.

Then, a final visitor. A man with a blue mask walked toward them, his presence calm but powerful. He removed his mask, revealing a face filled with empathy. He rested a hand on Valdorith’s head, offering no words—just a moment of quiet consolation.

Pasta arrived back.

*

“Naga...”

Valdorith whispered.

“Send me to her,”

Pasta stood, tears welling in his eyes. Was this really Valdorith?

“Send me to her, Pasta. I see it in your eyes. You’ve witnessed it all, haven’t you? You understand why I ask this of you now.”

“But… But!” Pasta’s voice cracked. He had never allowed himself to be this vulnerable. He was angry, sad. “It wasn’t your fault, Valdorith! It was that damned dragon!”

Valdorith’s form shimmered, shifting into that of an old man. His hair, still flowing and long, had turned pure white. Gently, he placed a hand on Pasta’s head.

“As you saw my memories, I too, saw yours,” Valdorith said. “You’ve suffered too, haven’t you?”

Pasta pressed his head against Valdorith’s chest, sobbing. “It wasn’t your fault…”

“It wasn’t yours either. You did your best, back then, Pasta.”

“No!” Pasta’s voice wavered with raw emotion. “This isn’t about me, Valdorith! You don’t have to die!”

A weak smile crossed the dragon-turned-old man’s lips. “I can’t even muster a proper smile anymore. I’ve lived so long… I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be anything but tired.” He lifted Pasta’s chin. “Look at me, Pasta. You wish to be a mighty warrior, don’t you? So uncover the secrets of this world. Join the destroyer. Journey to the far reaches of this existence. Prepare the path for the one who is to come.”

“The one to come?”

Valdorith nodded. “Yes… I’ve had dreams. Happiness is coming. So don’t cry, little one. Happiness will come.”

He raised Pasta’s hand, placing it over his sword hilt. The blade trembled, its energy intertwining.

Pasta felt it, too. Naga was sad. She was crying.

His grip tightened on the sword, and his heart filled with agony. Valdorith smiled at him, opening his arms. There was only one thing in this world that could harm him—the thing she had always joked about.

Pasta clenched his teeth, every muscle in his body screaming against what he had to do. He thrust the sword forward, the blade sinking into Valdorith’s chest. His skin, once as tough as steel, was now weakened by time.

The poison from Pasta’s sword swirled through Valdorith’s veins, but it did not cause pain. Instead, it was gentle, like being touched by butterflies. The mighty dragon’s time had come.

Valdorith exhaled slowly, his eyes closing as he smiled faintly. “Thank you...”

The Dragon King was no more.

*

Valdorith opened his eyes, he was his younger self. Surrounded by darkness.

This was his fate. For letting her die. For not being there in time. To be trapped in the void for all eternity.

But then…

A faint sound echoed through the emptiness, soft footsteps—too familiar to be mistaken. A small figure emerged from the void, running toward him. His heart skipped a beat. The long dark hair, flowing behind her, was unmistakable. How could he ever forget the child who had loved his own hair so much?

A weak smile crept onto his face. He ran to the girl, accepting her into his arms.

“Naga,” he whispered.

“Yes?” she giggled, pinching his nose playfully, just as she used to. “Let’s go home! I’ve got a great idea for a potion hehe.”

Tears spilt from his eyes as he held her close, burying his face in her hair. The crushing weight of the void around him melted away, replaced by warmth, by light.

He laughed, unable to contain his emotions. "Let's go home"

And with Naga in his arms, they walked together into the light.