Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Shadow Realm: Fifteen ❯ Laying in Wait ( Chapter 7 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Man Called True 
Gaia takes the center stage, as he heads out to retrieve something from his past...
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Fantasy / Drama / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 05.02.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.7K | Visits: 237 | Status: Completed
Gaia takes the center stage, as he heads out to retrieve something from his past...
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Fantasy / Drama / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 05.02.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.7K | Visits: 237 | Status: Completed
(Author's Note: Present tense means events during the Second Dragon War (the past); past tense means events in this story's present. Sorry for any confusion.)
On a long, deserted stretch of land, deep in the Wasteland, the sound of combat roared in the Shadow Realm night. Bones crunched and flesh split, and when it was over, only one figure still stood.
The winner of the fight knelt over his slain foe, grabbing at the corpse's shirt and ripping it away. Even as the body of the loser, a D. Human, went unstable and shattered, the other monster didn't care. He was too busy wiping blood off of the knuckles of his gauntlets. Taking the ripped garment, he forced it into the smallest cracks of the left gauntlet, only turning to the right one when the left was finished.
It would not bode well for Gaia to have parts of his armor rusting when he tried to climb the Dragon Lair. Traversing the mountain was hard enough without having one's hand squeak whenever his fingers flexed.
Despite the featurelessness of the Wasteland (how diverse could a parched, cracked landscape without any forms of vegetation be?), one was never unsure where the border stood. The Wastelands rose in the west, creating the Mountains, which themselves eventually gave way as an ebbing tide to the singular jut of the Dragon Lair. After several days of traveling, Gaia had traversed the wastes, and now that he neared the Mountains, the dragons and dragon wish-they-weres began to appear. The D. Human whose shirt had served as a handy rag was one of the latter - one of many humanoid monsters who bore such a fascination towards the dragons that they sought to live with them.
It all worked out in the end. Had the D. Human survived his run-in with the Fierce Knight, he likely would have closed his days in the jaws of a dragon.
Gaia snorted. He'd never get to the Dragon Lairs at that rate. Picking up a heavy length of rock to serve as a weapon, the warrior resumed his travels.
***
It isn't always the Wastelands. Before the Second Dragon Wars, it is a fertile plain. But this is before the Second Dragon Wars.
Sleipnir is skittish under Gaia as he awaits the orders to charge. The Fierce Knight can merely smile, looking out on the enemy. Behind him stand an entire army of monsters: Zombyra the Darks crack their knuckles, Blade Knights clash their weapons and grin foully, and the Goblin Attack Forces throw dice one last time before the battle begins.
At the edge of the Mountains, the dragons have gathered. The Troop Dragons form the front lines, running up and down with their spears at the ready. Luster Dragons fly over the battlefield, scanning the enemy, and the Cave Dragons lumber towards the front, steam spurting from their nostrils.
Two loud bugle notes split the air, hanging in the sky for only a moment before they fade into echos. The spellcaster units begin chanting, their various magical implements glowing with power. Gaia reaches down, taking his lances from their ready positions and holding one up. Every earrior draws, leaving one long, sustained "shnnick!" noise in the air for a moment.
The Lizard Soldiers heft their shields, moving to absorb the first wave of the charge on the dragon positions. Spear Dragons take to the air, looking down on the pending conflict, and even the Petite Dragons carrying medical supplies can't help but shiver.
Gaia's lance falls. A gong rings from behind Central Shadow Realm lines. And as the charge takes place, it's punctuated with magic blasts and dragon's breath.
The plains are scorched and burned to the very soil within the first five minutes. Nothing will ever grow here again. This is the first day of the Wastelands.
***
Within the day, the Mountains began to fall back. Gaia's armor had taken quite the soaking as he passed through this land, and he was now covered in every type of monster blood he could imagine. Warriors, beast-warriors, fiends, even the occasional fairy - it seemed that in every race of monster, there were the dragon-obsessed members.
Having fought his way through the monsters, Gaia stopped to catch his breath, leaning on the rock he had used as a club. For a mile around the Dragon Lair, there was nothing but bare rock. Nothing that could grow, but with one exception, could be found. The exception was the small, mysterious flower known as the corpse lily, which only ever grew at the site of a massacre. When the First Dragon War had taken place, countless dragons had died here; now it marked the line of no return.
A screech caught Gaia's attention. Looking up, he saw a Winged Dragon, Guardian of the Fortress. It was the first line of defense in the Dragon Lair, and it was bearing down on him with a look of malice.
The Fierce Knight merely sighed. It seemed the battles would not end here. Leaping into the air, he swung the club around, striking the Winged Dragon across the face.
Both combatants landed on the ground, the Winged Dragon spitting a broken fang. It opened its mouth, inhaling to ignite a fireball. Knowing what was planned, the warrior sprang out, locking his arms around the Winged Dragon's neck. He squeezed...
There was a moment's pause, and then smoke poured out of the dragon's nostrils. It writhed slightly, and then collapsed, having burned itself to death inside.
Gaia just spread his arms, letting the corpse fall, and flicked a scale off of his armor. His eyes turned from the Dragon Lairs to the Mountains, and he couldn't help but smile behind his helmet. Ages had passed since his last time in them.
***
The fight has pushed back from the scorched plains, the dragons losing ground and falling into the mountains. Slepneir leads the charge, the warriors cannonballing into the lines of their scaled enemies. Blades chop through flesh, and there is a constant ring of shattering bodies in the air. At this rate, the Dragon Lairs are only a day's battle away.
Gaia dismounts, sitting against a tree and watching the skies during a moment of respite. The Throwstone Units are reloading, prepared to open fire at anything with wings and red-hot breath. Something flies overhead, its shadow tracing along the ground, and they take aim.
For a brief moment, the sky is raining stones in reverse. Several hit their marks and a scream breaks the silence of the moment. Listening closely, the warriors hear it falling, and then a clattering sound as it hits the ground. There is a moment of celebration, and then a debate as to who will check and make sure it's dead. Gaia volunteers.
Slepneir's hooves make short work of the distance between the warriors and where the sound of the fall was heard. In a valley between two peaks, the Fierce Knight pulls his horse to a stop, dismounts, and moves slowly into the valley, lance at the ready.
What he finds is a long, pale creature, looking for all the world like a flying backbone. It is curled up, bone coverings cracked in many places from the stones of the Throwstone Units. Its proper species name is the Curse of Dragon, and it is hurt, breathing hard and thrashing in pain from time to time.
Protocol requires that Gaia kill his enemy now - it is a dragon, and leaving one alive is leaving another one for the enemies to throw against them. But something halts his lance. Sinking to his knees, he runs his fingers along the cracks in the monster's plates. This causes a twinge, and he pulls back. Not able to explain why, he uncorks a bottle of Red Medicine and carefully pours it into the injured spots.
As expected, the bone begins to knit. There is a glimmer of an idea in the Fierce Knight's mind, and he decides to go with it.
Perhaps thirty minutes later, the warriors look up and see their general return, the Curse of Dragon on the saddle behind him. "What are you thinking?" they cry as one in their confusion.
The answer is simple and quick from Gaia: "We have a prisoner."
***
The bone club swung again and again, and the Dragon Dwelling in the Cave finally collapsed and shattered. Sweat dripped from the crevices in Gaia's armor as he sat on the ground, wondering when all the dragons had moved back into the Dragon Lairs. On his first trip up the mountain, when they'd all tried to kill him, he could at least climb the first ten feet without being attacked.
Two Lizard Soldiers rushed down the mountain, blades at the ready. Shaking his head, Gaia ran at them and swung his club once, knocking them aside. Behind them came a group of Troop Dragons, on high alert over the intruder.
He'd be at this all day! Frustrated, the Fierce Knight hurled his club into the enemies, and sprang skyward. kicking his armored toes into the rock face. Pebbles fell as he stood warily on the improvised footholds. Ignoring the astonished glances of the dragons below him, he punched the rock hard, causing more of it to fall and leaving him with handholds. A moment of concentration passed, and he began to climb, forcing open cracks in the rock with his fingers and kicking new footholds into the mountain's side.
A loud clattering caught his attention, and Gaia looked down, never a good idea. The Troop Dragons had dropped their weapons, and all four climbed after him, their claws digging into spaces too small for Gaia's armor. A long, low sigh of disbelief filtered through his helmet.
How long it took to reach the top of the rock wall couldn't be answered, but it felt like hours as Gaia forced himself up the sheer stone. Finally, he fell onto his back, exhausted from the efforts. Seeing a group of scaled fingers rising into view, the warrior dropped his armored fist onto them. There was a scream, followed by a whooshing noise, a thump, and more screams. The Troop Dragons took the quick way down the rock, and it came to an end with a squishing noise as punctuation.
Resting there a moment, Gaia found himself studying his surroundings. And then he couldn't help but laugh.
Where he sat was at the center of what the Central Shadow Realm's armies long ago dubbed the "Dragonslayer's Road". It was a flat, spiraling path leading to the mountain's peak, a path that had taken four complete platoons almost a year to hammer into the rock. And it started on the opposite side of the mountain from where he'd started his climb.
One gauntlet slid off, and Gaia dusted off his breastplate before standing up. Clicking the gauntlet into position, he resumed his travel, at a somewhat more leisurely pace.
***
The platoon works as a well-oiled machine, the Destroyer Golems pulverizing rock and then falling back, letting in a group of Kojikocys armed with shovels; they dispose of the rubble. It makes good time, although they frequently have to break and fight off the incoming dragons. At this rate, the path will be complete within months.
There is a side path, however; it is about two vertical miles from the mountain's peak, and leads to a small cave dug into the Dragon Lairs's side. There sits a small prison, the maintaining of which Gaia the Fierce Knight has volunteered his troops for. It can hold up to seven dragons, each in their own cell.
Currently, only one cell is occupied.
Today is a special day for Gaia the Fierce Knight, although he knows it not. He rides Slepneir on the air currents, avoiding the hassle of setting foot on the fragile path. In a minute, he sees the familiar cliff, and there he settles the horse.
He walks inside, nodding to the Giant Orc who serves as a guard. As usual, the orc is asleep. It was for that reason that Gaia chose him.
In the only occupied cell, the Curse of Dragon is fluttering its wings, stretching them as best it can while awaiting whatever Gaia has planned for it. It turns its pointed head towards the general as he approaches, as if asking what he's planning for it now.
"I have a deal to make with you," Gaia says. "If you're willing to serve as my mount, you can be free of this place."
The Curse of Dragon doesn't say anything. It doesn't have to. Its gaze is fixed on the exit... and on Slepneir.
The warrior already foresaw this problem. "You would be a replacement," he tells the dragon. "An emergency mount, should Slepneir ever come to harm. Does that sound more acceptable?"
Not having prepared for that, the Curse is at a loss. It glances back and forth, between the exit, Slepneir, and the Fierce Knight. Finally, it turns back to Gaia and lowers its head in a brief nod.
The Giant Orc at the door is swiftly relieved of his keys, and Gaia leads the Curse of Dragon out; the orc doesn't witness either event, as he's still asleep.
***
A cloud of dust rose from the Dragonslayer's Road as Gaia traveled up it, on the alert for further dragon attacks. Having found a suitable rock, he'd used another rock to chisel it into a sharp point - a crude knife of sorts. It was better than nothing.
The wind blew harder as he climbed up the Dragon Lairs; legend had it that the spirit of the Five-God Dragon had never left the mountain after the Second Dragon Wars, and the closer you came to the peak, the more his rage struck at you. Gaia had never believed this, as the wind had always blown harder the higher you went, even when the Five-God Dragon still lived. There was simply less to block it now that the road was here.
Stopping a moment, the warrior turned and looked off the edge of the mountain. From here, he could easily see the Central Shadow Realm, both the barrier at its base and the massive rise of Exodia's palace at the very top. It seemed to him to be a gigantic hand, grasping greedily at the Shadow Realm sky and trying to drag it down to the ground. Sometimes he'd pondered the wisdom of fighting in the Second Dragon War, of saving the Central Shadow Realm from utter destruction. Every time he had to remind himself how skewed his view was; it was only after the Second Dragon War that they'd started chaining him up under the city.
He turned back to the road, only to see a shimmering white dragon standing in his way and glaring down. Apparently, he'd gotten so lost in his thoughts that he had failed to notice the presence of a Hyozanryu.
There was a pause of two seconds, at the end of which Gaia jumped backwards. The spot where he'd stood was a smoldering crater a second later.
Gaia stopped to give the situation a quick overview. All he had was the stone knife he'd made, which would do exactly nothing to the dragon's diamond hide. There wasn't anything in the immediate area that would work much better... His assessment paused as he dove out of the line of fire again.
A small rock dinged off of his helmet, and the warrior looked up. Above him sat a wooden support, holding back what seemed like a small mountain's worth of rocks. He had an idea, but timing would be everything.
Jumping, Gaia grabbed the support with his free hand and threw his knife. His aim was true, and it sliced cleanly through one of the Hyozanryu's eyes. The diamond dragon roared in anguish, charged...
...and smashed through the support, just as Gaia hurled himself to the ground. The rocks, left to do gravity's bidding, fell. They took the dragon with them, plummeting off the edge of the road into the void.
Armor badly dented, Gaia lifted himself up, dusting off his breastplate. The support once stood as part of a set of traps; in case the dragons had tried a massive charge up the road, the rocks would cut it off. The charge never happened, and the supports stayed where they were. It was just luck that he'd found one that never rotted through.
Once his mind was reassembled, Gaia looked around. Just as he'd thought, the path still sat there. The path to the prison...
Steeling himself, he inched his way across the path.
***
The road is complete now, and the entire army has begun preparing for the final assault on the Five-God Dragon's lair. Exodia has declared he'll lead the charge himself, just like the final attack on the Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon's lair, back in the First Dragon Wars. Some question why Gaia the Fierce Knight, the lead general up to this point, hasn't complained.
Nobody guesses the true reason. The real reason Gaia isn't complaining is because he's too busy training his new mount.
Day after day, Gaia retrieves the Curse of Dragon from what used to be the prison (the Giant Orc is gone now) and teaches it how to serve him in aerial combat. The Curse wears a new saddle, with light metal lances replacing the bulky wooden ones Gaia uses on Slepneir. The two work well together, and one evening they go a step too far.
In its first combat test, the Curse of Dragon has felled a Spirit Ryu. The warrior and his mount stand over the dying dragon, and as one they share a toast of its blood.
Dragon blood has quite disturbing effects on nondragons who drink it. Even Gaia doesn't know this, but slowly he has begun to change.
It is the fateful night now. Training is complete; the Curse of Dragon is as good a mount as he ever will be. Landing at the old prison, Gaia dismounts and strokes the dragon's carapace. "You've done well," he tells it. "Wait here for me. When I need you, I shall come."
The dragon has changed as much as Gaia has. It nods meekly and flutters into the prison, its new lair.
Mounting Slepneir, Gaia rides the air again, landing back on the Dragonslayer's Road. He barely avoids landing on a Little Swordsman of Aile, one of the army's messengers. "What is it?" he asks.
"Good news, sir!" the Swordsman pipes up. "The Five-God Dragon is dead! The dragons have surrendered! The war's over!"
Now the dragon blood truly kicks in. Gaia's eyes close, and he mutters a sotto, "Too bad."
His lance flicks out, and the Little Swordsman is sliced in two.
The warriors of Gaia's platoons cheer when their general rides among them later. The cheers turn to screams, as one by one he slaughters the warriors. A lust for blood burns in him, and even he doesn't know why.
In total, five hundred brave warriors shall die at the hands of Gaia before Exodia catches and traps him. The Curse of Dragon doesn't know this. All it knows is to wait, living in the cave where Gaia left it, for its master to return...
***
The path was crumbling under his feet as Gaia walked across it, quietly cursing himself for never having ordered the path reinforced. In time, however, he arrived at what used to be the prison.
Bones were piled high on either side of the door, and a small trail of treasure had inched out. The Fierce Knight picked one piece up - a moonstone, he noted. Setting it down, he headed into the old prison.
It was waiting for him, as it had for years on end. Curled around a statue, the Curse of Dragon looked up at him and merely sighed, before uncurling and moving towards him. One of Gaia's hands settled on its head, stroking the carapace. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said. "Are you ready?"
No response was forthcoming. None was needed. The dragon merely slithered its way out of the cave.
Looking out of the cavern, Gaia smiled under his helmet. Night was falling again, just as it had when he left the mountain before. Walking up to the Curse of Dragon, he set one foot on the stirrup and threw himself on the dragon's back. The saddle felt quite familiar to him, even though he hadn't sat on it in ages.
"Let's go. We've got a job to do," the warrior said.
And for the first time in longer than either could remember, Gaia the Dragon Champion took off from the ledge, flying high into the sky before turning, slowly flying back towards the Central Shadow Realm.
***
As most monsters in the Central Shadow Realm don't pay attention to anything other than what directly concerns them, and care even less about the Dragon Lairs, only three monsters were immediately aware of Gaia's change of circumstances.
The Meda Bat had reported back to Exodia, and the Forbidden One chuckled calmly. "That, Suleiman," he told his aide, "is why you shouldn't lose faith so quickly."
In the Missing Number bar, the cloaked figure in the corner suddenly sat upright, pulled himself from his seat, and rushed out the door, startling the Warrior Dai Greipher at the entrance.
And in Apartment 214 of Low-Level Zombie Housing Complex 3, a certain Witty Phantom stopped midway through a sip of water. When questioned, he couldn't explain why, giving only the vague response of, "Bad vibes."
On a long, deserted stretch of land, deep in the Wasteland, the sound of combat roared in the Shadow Realm night. Bones crunched and flesh split, and when it was over, only one figure still stood.
The winner of the fight knelt over his slain foe, grabbing at the corpse's shirt and ripping it away. Even as the body of the loser, a D. Human, went unstable and shattered, the other monster didn't care. He was too busy wiping blood off of the knuckles of his gauntlets. Taking the ripped garment, he forced it into the smallest cracks of the left gauntlet, only turning to the right one when the left was finished.
It would not bode well for Gaia to have parts of his armor rusting when he tried to climb the Dragon Lair. Traversing the mountain was hard enough without having one's hand squeak whenever his fingers flexed.
Despite the featurelessness of the Wasteland (how diverse could a parched, cracked landscape without any forms of vegetation be?), one was never unsure where the border stood. The Wastelands rose in the west, creating the Mountains, which themselves eventually gave way as an ebbing tide to the singular jut of the Dragon Lair. After several days of traveling, Gaia had traversed the wastes, and now that he neared the Mountains, the dragons and dragon wish-they-weres began to appear. The D. Human whose shirt had served as a handy rag was one of the latter - one of many humanoid monsters who bore such a fascination towards the dragons that they sought to live with them.
It all worked out in the end. Had the D. Human survived his run-in with the Fierce Knight, he likely would have closed his days in the jaws of a dragon.
Gaia snorted. He'd never get to the Dragon Lairs at that rate. Picking up a heavy length of rock to serve as a weapon, the warrior resumed his travels.
***
It isn't always the Wastelands. Before the Second Dragon Wars, it is a fertile plain. But this is before the Second Dragon Wars.
Sleipnir is skittish under Gaia as he awaits the orders to charge. The Fierce Knight can merely smile, looking out on the enemy. Behind him stand an entire army of monsters: Zombyra the Darks crack their knuckles, Blade Knights clash their weapons and grin foully, and the Goblin Attack Forces throw dice one last time before the battle begins.
At the edge of the Mountains, the dragons have gathered. The Troop Dragons form the front lines, running up and down with their spears at the ready. Luster Dragons fly over the battlefield, scanning the enemy, and the Cave Dragons lumber towards the front, steam spurting from their nostrils.
Two loud bugle notes split the air, hanging in the sky for only a moment before they fade into echos. The spellcaster units begin chanting, their various magical implements glowing with power. Gaia reaches down, taking his lances from their ready positions and holding one up. Every earrior draws, leaving one long, sustained "shnnick!" noise in the air for a moment.
The Lizard Soldiers heft their shields, moving to absorb the first wave of the charge on the dragon positions. Spear Dragons take to the air, looking down on the pending conflict, and even the Petite Dragons carrying medical supplies can't help but shiver.
Gaia's lance falls. A gong rings from behind Central Shadow Realm lines. And as the charge takes place, it's punctuated with magic blasts and dragon's breath.
The plains are scorched and burned to the very soil within the first five minutes. Nothing will ever grow here again. This is the first day of the Wastelands.
***
Within the day, the Mountains began to fall back. Gaia's armor had taken quite the soaking as he passed through this land, and he was now covered in every type of monster blood he could imagine. Warriors, beast-warriors, fiends, even the occasional fairy - it seemed that in every race of monster, there were the dragon-obsessed members.
Having fought his way through the monsters, Gaia stopped to catch his breath, leaning on the rock he had used as a club. For a mile around the Dragon Lair, there was nothing but bare rock. Nothing that could grow, but with one exception, could be found. The exception was the small, mysterious flower known as the corpse lily, which only ever grew at the site of a massacre. When the First Dragon War had taken place, countless dragons had died here; now it marked the line of no return.
A screech caught Gaia's attention. Looking up, he saw a Winged Dragon, Guardian of the Fortress. It was the first line of defense in the Dragon Lair, and it was bearing down on him with a look of malice.
The Fierce Knight merely sighed. It seemed the battles would not end here. Leaping into the air, he swung the club around, striking the Winged Dragon across the face.
Both combatants landed on the ground, the Winged Dragon spitting a broken fang. It opened its mouth, inhaling to ignite a fireball. Knowing what was planned, the warrior sprang out, locking his arms around the Winged Dragon's neck. He squeezed...
There was a moment's pause, and then smoke poured out of the dragon's nostrils. It writhed slightly, and then collapsed, having burned itself to death inside.
Gaia just spread his arms, letting the corpse fall, and flicked a scale off of his armor. His eyes turned from the Dragon Lairs to the Mountains, and he couldn't help but smile behind his helmet. Ages had passed since his last time in them.
***
The fight has pushed back from the scorched plains, the dragons losing ground and falling into the mountains. Slepneir leads the charge, the warriors cannonballing into the lines of their scaled enemies. Blades chop through flesh, and there is a constant ring of shattering bodies in the air. At this rate, the Dragon Lairs are only a day's battle away.
Gaia dismounts, sitting against a tree and watching the skies during a moment of respite. The Throwstone Units are reloading, prepared to open fire at anything with wings and red-hot breath. Something flies overhead, its shadow tracing along the ground, and they take aim.
For a brief moment, the sky is raining stones in reverse. Several hit their marks and a scream breaks the silence of the moment. Listening closely, the warriors hear it falling, and then a clattering sound as it hits the ground. There is a moment of celebration, and then a debate as to who will check and make sure it's dead. Gaia volunteers.
Slepneir's hooves make short work of the distance between the warriors and where the sound of the fall was heard. In a valley between two peaks, the Fierce Knight pulls his horse to a stop, dismounts, and moves slowly into the valley, lance at the ready.
What he finds is a long, pale creature, looking for all the world like a flying backbone. It is curled up, bone coverings cracked in many places from the stones of the Throwstone Units. Its proper species name is the Curse of Dragon, and it is hurt, breathing hard and thrashing in pain from time to time.
Protocol requires that Gaia kill his enemy now - it is a dragon, and leaving one alive is leaving another one for the enemies to throw against them. But something halts his lance. Sinking to his knees, he runs his fingers along the cracks in the monster's plates. This causes a twinge, and he pulls back. Not able to explain why, he uncorks a bottle of Red Medicine and carefully pours it into the injured spots.
As expected, the bone begins to knit. There is a glimmer of an idea in the Fierce Knight's mind, and he decides to go with it.
Perhaps thirty minutes later, the warriors look up and see their general return, the Curse of Dragon on the saddle behind him. "What are you thinking?" they cry as one in their confusion.
The answer is simple and quick from Gaia: "We have a prisoner."
***
The bone club swung again and again, and the Dragon Dwelling in the Cave finally collapsed and shattered. Sweat dripped from the crevices in Gaia's armor as he sat on the ground, wondering when all the dragons had moved back into the Dragon Lairs. On his first trip up the mountain, when they'd all tried to kill him, he could at least climb the first ten feet without being attacked.
Two Lizard Soldiers rushed down the mountain, blades at the ready. Shaking his head, Gaia ran at them and swung his club once, knocking them aside. Behind them came a group of Troop Dragons, on high alert over the intruder.
He'd be at this all day! Frustrated, the Fierce Knight hurled his club into the enemies, and sprang skyward. kicking his armored toes into the rock face. Pebbles fell as he stood warily on the improvised footholds. Ignoring the astonished glances of the dragons below him, he punched the rock hard, causing more of it to fall and leaving him with handholds. A moment of concentration passed, and he began to climb, forcing open cracks in the rock with his fingers and kicking new footholds into the mountain's side.
A loud clattering caught his attention, and Gaia looked down, never a good idea. The Troop Dragons had dropped their weapons, and all four climbed after him, their claws digging into spaces too small for Gaia's armor. A long, low sigh of disbelief filtered through his helmet.
How long it took to reach the top of the rock wall couldn't be answered, but it felt like hours as Gaia forced himself up the sheer stone. Finally, he fell onto his back, exhausted from the efforts. Seeing a group of scaled fingers rising into view, the warrior dropped his armored fist onto them. There was a scream, followed by a whooshing noise, a thump, and more screams. The Troop Dragons took the quick way down the rock, and it came to an end with a squishing noise as punctuation.
Resting there a moment, Gaia found himself studying his surroundings. And then he couldn't help but laugh.
Where he sat was at the center of what the Central Shadow Realm's armies long ago dubbed the "Dragonslayer's Road". It was a flat, spiraling path leading to the mountain's peak, a path that had taken four complete platoons almost a year to hammer into the rock. And it started on the opposite side of the mountain from where he'd started his climb.
One gauntlet slid off, and Gaia dusted off his breastplate before standing up. Clicking the gauntlet into position, he resumed his travel, at a somewhat more leisurely pace.
***
The platoon works as a well-oiled machine, the Destroyer Golems pulverizing rock and then falling back, letting in a group of Kojikocys armed with shovels; they dispose of the rubble. It makes good time, although they frequently have to break and fight off the incoming dragons. At this rate, the path will be complete within months.
There is a side path, however; it is about two vertical miles from the mountain's peak, and leads to a small cave dug into the Dragon Lairs's side. There sits a small prison, the maintaining of which Gaia the Fierce Knight has volunteered his troops for. It can hold up to seven dragons, each in their own cell.
Currently, only one cell is occupied.
Today is a special day for Gaia the Fierce Knight, although he knows it not. He rides Slepneir on the air currents, avoiding the hassle of setting foot on the fragile path. In a minute, he sees the familiar cliff, and there he settles the horse.
He walks inside, nodding to the Giant Orc who serves as a guard. As usual, the orc is asleep. It was for that reason that Gaia chose him.
In the only occupied cell, the Curse of Dragon is fluttering its wings, stretching them as best it can while awaiting whatever Gaia has planned for it. It turns its pointed head towards the general as he approaches, as if asking what he's planning for it now.
"I have a deal to make with you," Gaia says. "If you're willing to serve as my mount, you can be free of this place."
The Curse of Dragon doesn't say anything. It doesn't have to. Its gaze is fixed on the exit... and on Slepneir.
The warrior already foresaw this problem. "You would be a replacement," he tells the dragon. "An emergency mount, should Slepneir ever come to harm. Does that sound more acceptable?"
Not having prepared for that, the Curse is at a loss. It glances back and forth, between the exit, Slepneir, and the Fierce Knight. Finally, it turns back to Gaia and lowers its head in a brief nod.
The Giant Orc at the door is swiftly relieved of his keys, and Gaia leads the Curse of Dragon out; the orc doesn't witness either event, as he's still asleep.
***
A cloud of dust rose from the Dragonslayer's Road as Gaia traveled up it, on the alert for further dragon attacks. Having found a suitable rock, he'd used another rock to chisel it into a sharp point - a crude knife of sorts. It was better than nothing.
The wind blew harder as he climbed up the Dragon Lairs; legend had it that the spirit of the Five-God Dragon had never left the mountain after the Second Dragon Wars, and the closer you came to the peak, the more his rage struck at you. Gaia had never believed this, as the wind had always blown harder the higher you went, even when the Five-God Dragon still lived. There was simply less to block it now that the road was here.
Stopping a moment, the warrior turned and looked off the edge of the mountain. From here, he could easily see the Central Shadow Realm, both the barrier at its base and the massive rise of Exodia's palace at the very top. It seemed to him to be a gigantic hand, grasping greedily at the Shadow Realm sky and trying to drag it down to the ground. Sometimes he'd pondered the wisdom of fighting in the Second Dragon War, of saving the Central Shadow Realm from utter destruction. Every time he had to remind himself how skewed his view was; it was only after the Second Dragon War that they'd started chaining him up under the city.
He turned back to the road, only to see a shimmering white dragon standing in his way and glaring down. Apparently, he'd gotten so lost in his thoughts that he had failed to notice the presence of a Hyozanryu.
There was a pause of two seconds, at the end of which Gaia jumped backwards. The spot where he'd stood was a smoldering crater a second later.
Gaia stopped to give the situation a quick overview. All he had was the stone knife he'd made, which would do exactly nothing to the dragon's diamond hide. There wasn't anything in the immediate area that would work much better... His assessment paused as he dove out of the line of fire again.
A small rock dinged off of his helmet, and the warrior looked up. Above him sat a wooden support, holding back what seemed like a small mountain's worth of rocks. He had an idea, but timing would be everything.
Jumping, Gaia grabbed the support with his free hand and threw his knife. His aim was true, and it sliced cleanly through one of the Hyozanryu's eyes. The diamond dragon roared in anguish, charged...
...and smashed through the support, just as Gaia hurled himself to the ground. The rocks, left to do gravity's bidding, fell. They took the dragon with them, plummeting off the edge of the road into the void.
Armor badly dented, Gaia lifted himself up, dusting off his breastplate. The support once stood as part of a set of traps; in case the dragons had tried a massive charge up the road, the rocks would cut it off. The charge never happened, and the supports stayed where they were. It was just luck that he'd found one that never rotted through.
Once his mind was reassembled, Gaia looked around. Just as he'd thought, the path still sat there. The path to the prison...
Steeling himself, he inched his way across the path.
***
The road is complete now, and the entire army has begun preparing for the final assault on the Five-God Dragon's lair. Exodia has declared he'll lead the charge himself, just like the final attack on the Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon's lair, back in the First Dragon Wars. Some question why Gaia the Fierce Knight, the lead general up to this point, hasn't complained.
Nobody guesses the true reason. The real reason Gaia isn't complaining is because he's too busy training his new mount.
Day after day, Gaia retrieves the Curse of Dragon from what used to be the prison (the Giant Orc is gone now) and teaches it how to serve him in aerial combat. The Curse wears a new saddle, with light metal lances replacing the bulky wooden ones Gaia uses on Slepneir. The two work well together, and one evening they go a step too far.
In its first combat test, the Curse of Dragon has felled a Spirit Ryu. The warrior and his mount stand over the dying dragon, and as one they share a toast of its blood.
Dragon blood has quite disturbing effects on nondragons who drink it. Even Gaia doesn't know this, but slowly he has begun to change.
It is the fateful night now. Training is complete; the Curse of Dragon is as good a mount as he ever will be. Landing at the old prison, Gaia dismounts and strokes the dragon's carapace. "You've done well," he tells it. "Wait here for me. When I need you, I shall come."
The dragon has changed as much as Gaia has. It nods meekly and flutters into the prison, its new lair.
Mounting Slepneir, Gaia rides the air again, landing back on the Dragonslayer's Road. He barely avoids landing on a Little Swordsman of Aile, one of the army's messengers. "What is it?" he asks.
"Good news, sir!" the Swordsman pipes up. "The Five-God Dragon is dead! The dragons have surrendered! The war's over!"
Now the dragon blood truly kicks in. Gaia's eyes close, and he mutters a sotto, "Too bad."
His lance flicks out, and the Little Swordsman is sliced in two.
The warriors of Gaia's platoons cheer when their general rides among them later. The cheers turn to screams, as one by one he slaughters the warriors. A lust for blood burns in him, and even he doesn't know why.
In total, five hundred brave warriors shall die at the hands of Gaia before Exodia catches and traps him. The Curse of Dragon doesn't know this. All it knows is to wait, living in the cave where Gaia left it, for its master to return...
***
The path was crumbling under his feet as Gaia walked across it, quietly cursing himself for never having ordered the path reinforced. In time, however, he arrived at what used to be the prison.
Bones were piled high on either side of the door, and a small trail of treasure had inched out. The Fierce Knight picked one piece up - a moonstone, he noted. Setting it down, he headed into the old prison.
It was waiting for him, as it had for years on end. Curled around a statue, the Curse of Dragon looked up at him and merely sighed, before uncurling and moving towards him. One of Gaia's hands settled on its head, stroking the carapace. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said. "Are you ready?"
No response was forthcoming. None was needed. The dragon merely slithered its way out of the cave.
Looking out of the cavern, Gaia smiled under his helmet. Night was falling again, just as it had when he left the mountain before. Walking up to the Curse of Dragon, he set one foot on the stirrup and threw himself on the dragon's back. The saddle felt quite familiar to him, even though he hadn't sat on it in ages.
"Let's go. We've got a job to do," the warrior said.
And for the first time in longer than either could remember, Gaia the Dragon Champion took off from the ledge, flying high into the sky before turning, slowly flying back towards the Central Shadow Realm.
***
As most monsters in the Central Shadow Realm don't pay attention to anything other than what directly concerns them, and care even less about the Dragon Lairs, only three monsters were immediately aware of Gaia's change of circumstances.
The Meda Bat had reported back to Exodia, and the Forbidden One chuckled calmly. "That, Suleiman," he told his aide, "is why you shouldn't lose faith so quickly."
In the Missing Number bar, the cloaked figure in the corner suddenly sat upright, pulled himself from his seat, and rushed out the door, startling the Warrior Dai Greipher at the entrance.
And in Apartment 214 of Low-Level Zombie Housing Complex 3, a certain Witty Phantom stopped midway through a sip of water. When questioned, he couldn't explain why, giving only the vague response of, "Bad vibes."