Talent Awakening: Draconic Overlord Of The Apocalypse

The neon glow of the bar flickered against the bottles lining the shelves, casting their reflections onto the polished countertop.

The place was quieter than usual, with only a handful of patrons occupying the dimly lit space.

It was exactly the kind of atmosphere Anzo needed right now—somewhere he could drown out the images burned into his mind. He ran a hand through his damp, sweat-streaked hair and let out a slow breath.

He raised a hand to the bartender as he slid onto a stool. "Something strong. Doesn't matter what."

Axel, who had barely even taken his seat, turned to him with a surprised expression.

"Wait, hold on. Since when do you go for the hard stuff? You're usually the 'I need to keep my head clear' type."

Anzo didn't bother looking at him. His fingers tapped against the countertop, his gaze distant. "Since tonight," he muttered. "I just… need something to get my mind off all this crap." His jaw tightened. "That was the most human blood and entrails I've ever seen in my life."

A heavy silence settled over the group.

Beatrice shifted uncomfortably. She had barely touched the stool she was sitting on, her hands folded in her lap as if she were trying to keep herself small.

Even now, she looked like she wanted to say something—maybe something hopeful, maybe something that would make them feel better—but nothing came out.

Because what could she say?

Before Fenris had arrived to wipe out the bulk of the mutated Aberrants, the damage had already been done.

People had died—horribly. Torn apart, dismembered, crushed under falling rubble.

And the ones who survived? Anzo and the others had spent hours pulling them from the wreckage—some gasping for air, others sobbing as they clutched what was left of their loved ones.

The sight of blood and charred flesh was now stuck in his mind.

And worst of all… they hadn't saved everyone.

The bartender slid Anzo his drink, a dark amber liquid sloshing against the sides of the glass. He grabbed it immediately, bringing it to his lips without hesitation.

The burn of alcohol was sharp, but he welcomed it, gulping down the entire thing in a few swallows before slamming the glass back onto the counter.

"That hits the spot," he muttered.

Blitz, who had been eyeing him with her usual smirk, finally leaned forward, propping her chin in her hand.

"Huh. Look at you, Mr. Big Shot. You know, for someone who sees Alister as a rival, you might wanna work on that whole 'nerves of steel' thing. Boss didn't even flinch walking past all those bodies."

Axel, who was stirring a carbonated drink with a straw, let out a short laugh.

"Yeah, no kidding. I mean, say what you want about the guy, but you gotta admit, he's built different."

He took a slow sip before shaking his head.

"I don't think I saw so much as a twitch when he walked through that bloodbath. He just stepped over all those… pieces like it was nothing."

He leaned back, exhaling. "You think it's just because he's a dragon? Or do you think he's really just that fearless?"

Blitz scoffed, flipping a strand of hair over her shoulder. "Obviously, it's the dragon thing. Come on, what kind of dragon gets shaken by a little human blood and gore?"

She said it playfully, but her fingers were drumming against the bar, faster than usual.

"Though…"

"I really hope that doesn't mean he doesn't care about us. Wouldn't sit right with me if he just saw us as… I don't know. Replaceable."

Axel glanced at her, his smirk softening just a bit. "You actually worried about that?"

Blitz clicked her tongue. "I don't know. I mean, yeah, it's great that he's a stone-cold badass, but it wouldn't kill him to at least act a little shaken." She paused, then huffed. "Or maybe I just don't like the idea of following a leader who can watch people get ripped apart and not feel a damn thing."

Beatrice, who had been staring down at the counter, finally spoke. Her voice was softer than usual. "I don't think it's that he doesn't care," she said. "I think he's just… used to it. He said he's a dragon, right? Who knows how old he really is?" She sighed, finally looking up. "If he's really seen things like that hundreds of times before, then that's not just nerves of steel—that's… something else."

Anzo, who had been quiet during the exchange, ran a hand down his face. "Whatever it is, I don't know how he does it." He exhaled sharply. "I still feel it. Hell, I think I smelled it despite wearing the mask." His fingers curled around the empty glass, tightening.

Axel sighed. "Dramatic much?"

Anzo glanced at him, his red eyes locking with Axel's hazel ones but said nothing. He sighed, looking away.

"That kind of thing doesn't just leave you, you know? It sits there. Right in the back of your head. Comes back to you when you least expect it."

His grip tightened slightly before he forced himself to let go. "If he's really seen this kind of stuff over and over again, I don't envy him. Not one damn bit."

Axel swirled the ice in his drink, watching the cubes clink against the glass. "Yeah," he muttered. "That kind of thing changes a person."

Blitz was silent for a moment before she finally spoke again, this time without her usual playful edge. "Guess that just means it's our job to make sure he doesn't turn into some emotionless husk, huh?"

She raised an eyebrow, smirking again. "Would be a shame if our great and mighty leader ended up being as heartless as some of the monsters we fight."

No one laughed.

Axel let out a slow breath, then lifted his drink. "To still being human," he said. "Even when it sucks."

Anzo hesitated, then let out a small, weary chuckle as he raised his empty glass. "Yeah. To that."

Beatrice and Blitz followed suit, and for the first time that night, the weight pressing down on them felt just a little lighter.