Talent Awakening: Draconic Overlord Of The Apocalypse

Claus's blade hissed back into its sheath as the last wave of shock troopers fell to Aiku's explosive artistry. Smoke and ozone filled the air, mixing with the scorched scent of melted alloys and burning plastic. The sound of distant sirens and crackling fires rolled across Sector III like a death march.

"Enough theatrics," Claus muttered, adjusting his glasses as a chunk of concrete clattered nearby. "We need to move. Now."

Aiku gave a dry chuckle, fanning himself with a single card like he was lounging at a masquerade ball rather than standing in the middle of a warzone. "And miss the encore?"

Claus turned, eyes flashing. "You're bleeding time, Aiku. Reinforcements are minutes out. Maybe seconds, if we don't leave now our deal is off Aiku."

Aiku sighed, brushing imaginary dust off his coat. "Fine, fine. You win, Claus. Let's flee into the shadows like the sensible fugitives we are."

Claus blinked.

Aiku smirked.

"But..."

"...a king doesn't retreat. He clears a path."

Before Claus could respond, Aiku flicked his wrist, and a fan of cards soared outward in every direction.

Each one struck true.

Boom—Boom—BOOM!

The ground rocked beneath their feet as fire blossomed in a straight line toward the barricades. Trucks flipped, watchtowers crumbled, and the soldiers unlucky enough to be near the blast radius were hurled screaming into the night.

Aiku walked forward through the firestorm, coat fluttering dramatically, hairpin catching the flames' reflection with every step.

"Now they'll think twice before blocking the king's exit," he said, almost giddy.

Claus exhaled slowly. "You could have just... I don't know, gone around."

"Blasphemy," Aiku scoffed. "There's no glory in going around."

They continued forward through the smoking wreckage, Claus silently dispatching any lingering threats with precise, fluid movements while Aiku hurled more glowing cards like a child scattering candy at a parade.

Eventually, they stumbled across it—half-buried in debris, scorched and dented, but still intact.

A sleek, black Union patrol vehicle. Combat-grade engine, reinforced shell, semi-autonomous drive matrix. The left side had been crushed slightly by one of Aiku's earlier shockwaves, and the paint was scorched beyond repair… but it still purred faintly, trying to reboot.

"Ohhh," Aiku purred, crouching beside the battered beauty like it was a long-lost lover. "Would you look at that? Still has some spark left in her."

Claus raised an eyebrow. "You want to steal a Union combat cruiser?"

"Borrow," Aiku corrected. "Liberate, if we're being romantic."

He gave the back door a dramatic tug, and to their surprise, it swung open with a low hiss. Aiku slid inside like he was stepping into a luxury limo, legs crossed, back lounging across the seat.

"Claus," he said with a grin, tapping the leather beside him, "you drive. I'll handle anyone dumb enough to come after us."

"You're going to get us killed," Claus muttered, reluctantly climbing into the front seat.

"Details," Aiku yawned, already fiddling with the vehicle's broken control panel like it was a puzzle box.

The engine roared to life—rough, angry, but alive.

Spotlights were moving in again, distant sirens now growing louder by the second.

Claus gripped the wheel, knuckles pale. "Hold on."

Aiku leaned back with a dreamy sigh as the cruiser lurched forward, crashing through a twisted barricade and into the night.

But...

The cruiser barely had a chance to gain speed.

One moment, the engine was roaring as the vehicle blasted down the ruined street—flames in its wake, metal screeching against broken asphalt—and the next?

CRACK!

A sudden blur of crimson and violet streaked past.

Something collided with the side of the cruiser.

Hard.

With the sound of steel folding like paper, the vehicle was launched into the air, spinning violently. Aiku's relaxed posture was immediately interrupted as the car flipped over itself multiple times midair, the shock dampeners groaning, sparks bursting through the cabin. Claus clenched the wheel with one hand, the other bracing against the dashboard as the world outside turned into a tumbling blur of flame and concrete.

BOOM!

CRASH!

SKRRREEEEEEE—

They finally landed in a heap of twisted metal, skidding through several feet of wreckage until the vehicle collapsed sideways, groaning to a halt amid a cloud of smoke and dust.

Silence.

Then—

Aiku coughed. "...So much for the king's chariot."

Claus growled, "You wanted the scenic route."

Before they could peel themselves free from the crushed cruiser, a heavy footstep echoed beside them.

Then another.

A tall woman stepped into the dissipating smoke, her long, wild purple hair whipping behind her like a mane caught in a storm. Her eyes burned like twin embers—crimson, sharp, and narrowed with exhaustion rather than fury.

She wore the red-and-white uniform of a high-ranking guild member, the fabric snug against her athletic frame, streaked with dust and torn at the edge of her sleeve. A crimson shoulder cape flared behind her, bearing the unmistakable insignia of a roaring bear—fanged and feral.

She exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through her hair, clearly at her wit's end.

"This day just won't let up," she muttered, more to herself than to them. "First the Riftspawn invasion in the business district, then a five-hour argument with the board over damage liability, and now two jackasses think it's a great idea to jailbreak tonight."

She rubbed her temples and stepped closer to the wrecked cruiser, peering inside as casually as someone checking on a vending machine.

"Of all the days," she sighed. "You idiots couldn't have waited until tomorrow?"

Aiku slowly raised a hand inside the vehicle. "Technically… we escaped last night. It's past midnight."

Her eye twitched. "Do I look like I care about semantics right now?"

Claus was already halfway out of the wreckage, hand on his katana hilt, breathing slow and measured. "Anya Petrova of the Berserkers Guild."

Aiku whistled low. "Petrova? Oooh. You mean one of the kids of that old man? Now that's a name I didn't want on our arrest report."

Anya rolled her neck with a heavy crack. "Don't worry. I'm not here to arrest you."

Aiku's smile perked up. "Really?"

She cracked her knuckles, then her jaw. "I'm here to flatten you. Big difference."

Claus muttered, "Fantastic."

"Get ready," Aiku whispered, a grin spreading across his face as his cards began floating lazily from his sleeves.

Claus sighed. "Another fight?"

Aiku's grin widened, eyes gleaming gold. "Come now, Claus. You didn't think we'd leave without meeting the boss of the level, did you?"

Anya raised a brow. "Boss of the—?"

Aiku threw a card into the air. "Let's dance, Berserker Queen."