Their powers of regeneration were, to say the least, astounding. Mortal wounds didn't faze the Eight. Any injury was immediately fixed, bones rejoining, flesh knitting back together. This was only a fraction of what they would be capable of, for they had not done their blackest of deeds.
Kyra stared in horror as the building collapsed on top of Laidu. She stared through a window, and she was far away, but those raging flames seemed to fill her vision, capturing her attention like nothing before. "He'll... he'll be alright, right?" She looked at Skaria. Skaria was silent. But the look in the mercenary's eyes told Kyra the storystory she didn't want to hear.
"That was easier than I thought," Kazalibad said as he stalked closer to the blaze. "Two pesky enemies finished off with one blow. Surely, it's a gift of providence." He leaned down towards the blaze. "You're dead now. And now, that girl's nex-"
He stopped, suddenly, and Kyra could see why. Kazalibad recoiled, hands flying up to his -or its- throat. Those claws were suddenly stained red. The monster let his hands fall, and Kyra gasped. The beast's throat was ripped out! It didn't seem to faze the monster, however. Kyra could see the flesh begin to grow back.
"You...you're not dead," the beast said in shock to the fire. And Kyra could see it. A massive forearm jutting out of the wreckage, a piece of Kazalibad's throat still stuck in between its talons. It opened, and the piece of foul flesh fell into the burning wreckage, to be consumed by the flames.
"I... am sick and tired of your voice," the thing said as it rose. Kyra's breath caught in her chest as the thing rose. Kazalibad looked down at the thing. Then looked it straight in the eye as it rose. And then Kazalibad craned it's neck up. Kazalibad was eight feet tall. What emerged from the wreckage was almost double that.
It was unmistakably Laidu, but he was not normal. His hands and feet had looked normal before, albeit with claws. He had large scale plates across his chest before. And besides the horns and the snoutlike nose, his face was pretty human, even if it was covered in scales.
Now, he towered over Kazalibad. His head looked like a dragon, and instead of two horns on top his head and two horns on the side, he had at least seven pairs, fanning out. His body hunched over, and, while Laidu had muscle before, he wasn't covered in it like this. His body reverberated with power. His feet looked like a lizard's foot, and a giant tail swept through the burning wreckage.
"I am not dead," the thing said. The voice wasn't Laidu's. It had the gravitas of a king to it. "You, however, will soon be dead." The creature's massive chest began to glow cherry red. That heat traveled up the throat, before lighting up Laidu's skull.
"Oh, sheike," Kyra heard Kazalibad mutter. And then Laidu roared.
Her literature teachers said it was one of the mysteries of the poems of old. Whenever a dragon would breathe fire, they never used the word breathe. They used roar. A dragon would roar flame. The teacher didn't understand it. Now, Kyra understood completely.
The sound was like a blow, shaking everything. Everyone in the building crouched down. The roar was powerful, yes, but the flames, the burning fire that poured out of Laidu's dragon mouth like liquid wrath was a sight to behold. And when the flames let out, all could see the damage.
Kazalibad was nothing, just a soot stain. The tree he was by was also ashes. And the grass. Laidu exhaled, and tiny curls of fire escaped from his lips. His chest was heaving from an adrenaline rush, and the glowing fire within dimmed. Laidu's pants, which had reached down to his ankles when he was only seven feet tall, barely made it to his knees. Indra had known about the tail somehow.
YOU ARE READING
When Laidu, a half-human, half-dragon Ranger, rescues a mysterious girl from slavers, he doesn't know it but he's in for a world of trouble. Teaming up with an insane scholar, a chatty assassin, and two mercenaries, they go to take the girl -Kyra- h...