8. The Fall of the Dragonoids

“Reaching the capital is easy if you're in good company."

Lodtrack - Former Dragonoid Guard

The throne room had transformed from an ostentatious meeting hall with ample space to welcome the nobles and commoners of the city into a war room crowded with soldiers, mages, and traps.

The central area had turned into a spacious circular combat arena where one wrong step would lead you into a magical mine, spikes would shoot up from the ground and turn you into mincemeat, a thread would be cut, causing gallons of liquor to rain down and explode, or you'd simply fall into a bear trap.

Draco was busy preparing for the battle, constantly inquiring about his apprentices, receiving no response.

Lord Fender sat on his throne across from Draco, with the most serious expression a soldier had ever seen, thinking about his son, as he had no idea where he was or how he was faring. Federic was by his side; he had regained consciousness not long ago but remained so nervous that he didn't know how to calm his master.

Federic approached Draco, careful not to step on any of the traps they had set.

“Don't you think there are too many?” he asked anxiously. “How do you plan to fight in this place?”

“That's my problem,” Draco replied irritably. “Where the hell are they?”

“The kids... I have no idea,” a terrifying idea crossed Federic's thoughts. “And what if?... What if it has something to do with that strange roar, we heard a while ago? Maybe the demon...”

Draco glared at him, causing the servant to shudder.

“Are you suggesting they might be defeated?” Draco asked, visibly annoyed. He had considered the possibility, but acknowledging that his apprentices might have lost would be admitting weakness, the last thing they needed.

“No, not at all,” Federic corrected nervously. “Just that they might have been delayed.”

Draco turned his back on Federic, who was trembling. The guards around them had stopped to watch the quarrel, but Draco looked at them the same way he did Federic, and they immediately returned to their work.

The Guard checked the condition of all his fighters. Entropy mages set their magical traps, while elemental mages prepared their spells aimed at wiping out a significant number of soldiers in one move. More and more knights and warriors arrived at the throne room, full of wounds from battles throughout the castle, making healers the busiest and the biggest consumers of cámelio to continue aiding.

The knights forming the guard practiced their movements and sharpened their weapons. They hadn't fought until now because their job was to protect Lord Fender.

The guard was the last line of defense for the Lord, and therefore, the best warriors and the most powerful mages were among them. Without the apprentices, they were all Draco had to win.

They were almost ready to intercept the invaders. The sound of battle echoed through the throne room: shrill sounds, explosions, screams; each growing louder and closer. It wouldn't be long before they reached the throne room.

Then, a strong tremor shook part of the castle, followed by loud sounds they couldn't identify, and finally, another roar like the one they had heard minutes ago. Then, the castle fell silent. Soldiers began looking around, trying to decipher where the noise came from, letting fear invade them and intensifying the anxiety of those present.

Lord Fender stood up agitatedly from his seat. The maids tried to convince him to sit, but he ignored them and stumbled forward, avoiding traps until he was close enough to Draco, who raised his eyebrows at seeing him approach.

“My son,” he said tremblingly, “you have to find him.”

“Sir... I already told you that...”

“I'm giving you a damn order, Draco!” Lord Fender interrupted violently, a reaction that seemed to stun everyone in the room, including Draco himself, who didn't respond in any way. “What I just heard is not normal. My son is there, and you must do something. It's the only reason I let you stay and prevented you from being hunted, you filthy treacherous rat, to protect my family!”

Everyone in the room was petrified. From the soldiers to the servants, they stopped working to see Fender insult his personal guard. Federic looked terrified at Draco, thinking of a way to prevent the guard from beheading his lord.

But to everyone's surprise, Draco just sighed and calmly responded to his master.

“You shouldn't worry about your son. I'm sure Lodtrack is doing a great job looking after him. Besides...” He looked directly into Fender's eyes, clenched his fist, and punched him in the stomach, leaving him breathless and forcing him to kneel. “Serving you doesn't mean putting up with all your nonsense.” Draco grabbed Fender by the hair, eliciting a scream, and forced him to look, concluding, "So let me continue with my job, SIR."

He threw him to the ground and signaled to a servant to take him to his throne safely. People pretended to go back to work, but they were actually starting to murmur. “What the hell?" asked one soldier. "Draco went mad," replied another. Doubts about who was leading them began to surface.

Silo was on the first floor of the castle, fighting alongside other soldiers against numerous enemies backed by an entropy mage and a healer. The soldiers and Silo himself were exhausted from the battle, but they didn't give an inch; they fought desperately and without any order. Silo was the only one who could continue fighting directly without completely risking himself, thanks to his ability. He swung his sword from side to side, and with each slash, a soldier fell.

Silo attacked, always aiming to pierce a vital point because if he didn't fatally wound them, the healer would instantly cure them. The soldiers accompanying him tried to help in any way they could but ended up getting in the way. ‘Useless, they're all useless,’ Silo thought, noticing how his arms became increasingly numb, his legs no longer responding as usual, his sword weighing him down, and breathing becoming difficult. It was only a matter of time before they managed to overpower him. Behind him were castle servants and the girl who always greeted him; she only murmured to herself: