Chapter 42

“Primordial Ward of Fire.”

A barrier of chaotic energy sprang up in front of Wil, a tidal wave of magic the engulfed him in its protective sphere. The Tier 6 Abjuration spell coalesced just as a jet of bright red flames crashed upon it.

The Elder Dragon roared overhead, its body glowing from its belly to its mouth, where an inferno spewed forth, burning everything in its path. Like a wave crashing onto the shore, the flames parted around Wil, the shielding magic holding.

For hundreds of feet behind him, the ground vaporized from the intense dragon’s breath. When it reached the ocean, the water boiled and a steamy mist burst forth, creating a rolling tide that slowly made its way inland.

Letting the magic fade, Wil allowed the heat to wash over him, his new body enjoyed the sensation. Wil’s rational mind had long since been consumed, his body driven by primal desires. To fight and hunt, to kill and feast on his prey. With a feral grin, he leapt forward, leaving the ground and flying towards the wheeling dragon overhead.

In response, the Dragon raked Wil’s body with its claws, tearing through his new, devilish flesh with ease. The sharp claws took his arm, and most of his torso, before Wil could respond. On instinct, he summoned his newfound knowledge granted to him by the Pact.

“Vampiric Touch.” Wil said, using his remaining hand to grip the dragon’s claw tightly. Blackness coated his limb, negative energy thick and visible. The Tier 3 necromantic spell wreathed the dragon’s claw, sapping it of vitality. Wil could see a thin line of white energy flow from the creature to his own body, filling him with strength and repairing the damage done.

With another roar, the Dragon flung Wil away, aware of the danger that touching such a devilish figure could cause. It was only a small amount of its strength, but to a dragon’s pride, any damage was unacceptable. Flapping its wings, it sent of gust of air at Wil, knocking him further away from it.

Seeing an opportunity, it shot another burst of fire towards the off-balance Wil, a blazing streak of flames that lit the night sky. Wheeling around, Wil drew on his own knowledge to escape. With a loud ‘Pop’ he disappeared, reappearing above the Elder Dragon. Not noticing him right away, the creature continued to pour out a trail of red flames, unaware that of the danger overhead.

Forming a fist, Wil swiftly dropped towards the Dragon’s head.

“Staggering Strike!” Wil muttered, gathering the infernal energy that filled his body into his hand. His body was a blur as he moved, urging every ounce of strength his new form possessed into the attack.

Smashing into its scale covered skin, his fist sent cracks through its scales, while a shockwave disrupted the air around them. The dragon’s jaws clamped shut at the impact, flames escaping through its teeth.

Worse still was the foreign mana that the fist carried, it seeped into its skin, worming its way through its scales and thick flesh, oozing into its brain, and affecting its mind.

The Elder Dragon thrashed violently as the attack ripped into its consciousness. To a creature as powerful as it, the effects were minor, a migraine, nothing more, but it was the second time that Wil had hurt it. Filled with rage at the humiliation, it roared angrily, flapping its wings powerfully.

Its actions created a dust cloud around Aachen, and Wil took the opportunity to slip away, hiding from sight, seeking an opportunity to strike. The hunger inside him, the Devilish influence, was growing stronger, the urge to destroy, to devour his foe, was insatiable.

Each time he struck the Dragon, it grew, his rage and hatred replaced by a craving to taste its flesh, to drink its blood. He wanted to consume everything before him. His eyes glowed brightly in the darkness, hidden by the dust, as he watched his opponent carefully.

Infuriated, the Elder Dragon thrashed and twisted in the sky, stirring up the wind. So great was its rage that it unconsciously leaked mana into its surroundings. A great maelstrom of dust, dirt and debris began to swirl around it, the wind gaining speed rapidly, and even the few clouds overhead were drawn into the vortex of its fury.

The steam and mist of the boil ocean joined the stream of dust, until a great tornedo surrounded the Dragon. Even large pieces of stone and building remnants began to float into the air, the intense wind carrying everything skyward.

Howling, the Dragon belched more flames, streaks of fire that joined the wind, creating an inferno of destruction. The intense heat and cooling mists fought against one another, building into a storm.

Lightning crackled, lines of bright white and purple that struck the ground, the crack of thunder splitting the roar of the wind.

Wil hunched lower on the ground, digging his clawed hand into the hard stone, letting the wind and biting grit sweep over him. The abrasive gale ground against his flesh, lacerating his flesh. His body healed the minor injuries, but each time the wounds knit themselves in a slightly wrong way. His flesh would blacken, while the scars were a bright crimson.

Watching the Elder Dragon rage in the sky overhead, Wil waited, all while the hunger within him built.

The Dragon twisted and turned, its wings beating furiously to power the storm, all while adding more flames to the maelstrom. Wil had proven himself to be elusive and capable of harming it. If it couldn’t catch him, then it would simply destroy everything.

Satisfied with its plan, The Dragon continued to fuel the storm when a blurred figure appeared, moving with great speed. Wil couldn’t resist his urges anymore, the desire to hunt and consume drove all sense of self preservation from his mind.

Leaping into the sky, he fought against the wind, letting the flames batter against him. Pushing forward, the dragon watched as Wil emerged from the vortex, his body nearly unrecognizable, the devilish healing abilities, having repaired his wounds, replaced his human features with those of a devil.

Long, white hair flowed down his back, parting around a pair of leathery wings. His skin had darkened to black, with spikes on his shoulders, elbows, and knees. His hands were three fingered, ending in sharp claws.

With a screaming wail, the demonic Wil charged the Dragon. Foregoing magic, or any tactics, he simply flew directly towards the creature.

The Elder Dragon was momentarily taken aback by the absurd action, before it inhaled deeply and sent another wave of flame towards Wil. Burning flames obscured him from its sight, before Wil remerged, unharmed and trailing fire that clung to him.

In an instant, he was clutching to the Elder Dragon’s neck, his claws digging in between the large scales, searching for the soft, leathery flesh beneath. Peeling a small section of scales away, he sunk his teeth into the skin, drawing blood.

With a rush, dragon’s blood filled his mouth, sweet and warm, it satisfied the demonic hunger within him. It was euphoric, blissful, like taking in new life.

A vitality unmatched by anything he had ever experienced surged into his limbs, each drop bringing new changes to his body. His teeth elongated, growing sharper, his arms and legs were covered by a faint layer of scales, shimmering in the fire against his blackened skin.

Red eyes closed in elation, he gripped the dragon’s neck tighter, latching onto it like a parasite, a leech consuming its blood at an alarming rate. And he grew stronger for it.

The Dragon threw its head back, twisting and turning to shake Wil off, before raking its claws in order to rip him away. But he was too small, buried under a scale. With no other choice, the dragon dug into its own kin, raking a long gash across its neck, dislodging Wil and a dozen of its own scales.

Wil tumbled from the dragon’s neck, still in the throws of ecstasy from the blood he had consumed. Opening his crimson eyes, he locked onto the Dragon once more. Not to be deterred, his righted himself with a flap of his newly grown wings, shooting back towards the creature just as it attacked once more with its claws.

“Gaseous Form.” Wil whispered as the massive claws swept towards him. He drew on the demonic knowledge within him, using a simple, Tier 3 Transmutation. As the claw struck him, his turned to a black mist, the claw passing harmless through him. He flowed forward, regaining his corporal form just as he latched onto the dragon’s wounded neck more.

Feasting again, the creature that had once been Wil Brookmoor buried himself into the wound, gorging on the dragon’s flesh and blood.