Melia the Magnificent

The lights slowly brightened as the figure of [Cromwell] walked off the stage. The auditorium hushed as the gentle murmuring of [Umbral Patrons] spread through the room. But not everything was silent as a heavy rope and pulley or a mechanical winch cranked behind the stage. The noise wasn’t distracting, but it was clear that the dungeon wanted to draw everybody’s attention to the slow, upward tug of the largest curtain. As if teasing for a grand reveal, the heavy crimson fabric seemed to move at a glacial pace, tantalizing the audience with the mystery that could possibly lie beneath.

Several faces turned to Melia. She shifted and found they were full of curiosity more than judgment, but sadly, she knew just as little as everybody else.

“I didn’t plan this,” she denied with a shake of her head. “I’m just as surprised as everybody else.”

“That was Cromwell,” Ellesea sighed in barely more than a whisper. She had stars in her eyes and looked as if she had just met one of her idols. “Well, a dungeon shade of him, apparently. I wonder what he was really like?”

“He was an excellent storyteller,” Melia said fondly. More than the grand story he wanted to tell through their largest role-playing campaign, Kyle Klinger was the mastermind of much of Ebonvale’s unofficial lore. Melia’s group wasn’t the only RP crew he helped direct, and Melia would be very much surprised if his other works didn’t feature more prominently in this world than hers.

Now that this final play of his had been immortalized in dungeon form, perhaps it would be hard to beat. If nothing else, the chance that adventurers would come and experience this story- however it was about to unfold -was almost guaranteed.

Melia felt a fond smile tugging at her lips as an amusing thought occurred. In some ways, Kyle had become a genuine DM.

​

“Sooo, was that it?” Jessica asked. The curtain had risen several feet off the stage floor but there weren’t any feet or legs of actors to be seen, whether dungeon monsters or not. All of the shades that were moving around behind [Cromwell] as he gave his introduction had vanished. “What happened to the rest of the play?”

“What do you care?” Ellesea muttered darkly. “You would have talked through most of it anyway.”

“Yeah, but that’s beside the point,” Jessica shrugged shamelessly. “I was interested. Where are the actors? I want to see what’s next.”

“I think,” Alastair said, standing, “We might find out in person. Look.”

The curtain had risen high enough that, despite the absence of sets, props, or any sort of creature on the stage, it was not empty. Five portals sat- spread out and shimmering -waiting.

“More portals?” Ellesea asked. “Inside a dungeon?”

“Is that legal?” Y’cennia asked.

“As if Chaos is subject to laws of Order,” Alastair frowned. “It’s rare, but I’ve heard of other dungeons inside of dungeons…like the entrance to the [Smoldering Sea] from the [Incinerated Spire]. The lack of monsters instantly trying to kill us makes a little more sense. Perhaps the [Obsidian Mansion] acts more like a hub?”

Judging from the size of the stage, it could house far more than the five that appeared. Was this the reason that the difficulty was rated at Nightmare?

​

As soon as the curtain reached its summit, the lights blazed again and the room grew eerily quiet. Suddenly, all of the [Umbral Patrons] had vanished, leaving the group deserted in the gigantic auditorium. A small set of stairs appeared at the front of the stage, inviting them to climb to the top.

“Shall we?” Alastair asked with grim determination. He readied his shield as he stood to his feet and made his way toward the aisle. The rest of the party followed slightly behind him. Jessica’s earlier antics were completely abandoned, much like the half-empty buckets of popcorn and cartons of snacks. She had her bow drawn and her sharp eyes, wary of shadows, scanned the rows of seats.

The walk up the aisle was long and stressful, but nothing challenged their approach other than their beating hearts. Alastair halted at the foot of the stairs, which had not been there when the [Shade] was giving his speech, pausing to strengthen his resolve. He took the first step.

Nothing happened.

He let out a sigh and continued climbing, quickly overcoming the dozen-or-so steps.

At the top- perhaps unsurprisingly -the [Retainers] stood ready and waiting. Each had weapons drawn, poised to protect the weaker adventurers as they ascended the steps in a single file line. Instead of climbing the stairs themselves, they had leapt from the floor to the stage platform in a single, impressive bound.

…partly so because they were wearing ankle-length dresses. Or two of them were, anyway. [Sunrise] approached the closest portal.

Unlike the entrance to this dungeon, and, indeed, most dungeons on Ebonvale’s surface, the portal was not an obscured, swirling vortex of tangible magic. Rather, it resembled a standard [Mage]’s [Portal], a shimmering glimpse of some far-away land. It was like looking through a perfectly spotless window. There was no floating skull to taunt them and to threaten great danger. Just the crisp, clean view of five different locales: a white-stone plaza in the early afternoon; a murky woodland in the dead of night; the bitter harshness of a frozen plain; a rocking ship upon turbulent seas; and what looked to be the Obsidian Mansion itself.

However, four of the five portals had something imposed over the images inside: large, ethereal chains, crossed from corner to corner, connected by a silver padlock in the middle. The chains were partially visible but the meaning was clear. Locked. To open the locked portals, a brave soul would almost certainly need to clear the unprotected portals, and it seemed that only one was ready for them to challenge. It was the white-stone plaza, suspiciously reminiscent of Horizon in the springtime.

Alastair approached the portal, adjusted his shield, and reached forward…only to pass harmlessly through to the other side, as if it were an illusion. He momentarily stared at his hand in confusion before getting that glassy-eyed look of someone staring intently at their status.

“Ah,” he eventually chuckled sadly, letting the tension in his shoulders slack. “I suppose I should have seen this coming.”

“What is it?” Jessica asked impatiently. Despite clearly wanting to barge through the portal herself, she had enough discipline to wait for her tank to go first.

“We’re not supposed to be here,” he said. As Jessica worked her way past the others and waved her hand impatiently through the glowing portal, Alastair made some motions and shared his status for all to see.

​

[Warning! You are too low level to enter this dungeon!

Act 1: What Lies Beneath

Recommended level: 500.

Minimum level: 400.

To bypass this security lockout, party must be set to Synchronize Mode and party leader must be maximum level.]

​

Ellesea frowned and walked up to the next portal, one that was clearly locked. She thrust her staff through, but it fared no better than the previous attempt. She was given a similar message.

​

[Access Denied. Attunement for Act 2: Screeching Hollows not met.]

​

“So?” Jessica scoffed. “Toss leadership over to Melia. She’s got to be max, even with sync on. Knock one out and move to the next.”

“To do that, we’d need to leave this dungeon first,” Alastair said, motioning to the stage they were all standing on. It was easy to forget they were looking at dungeons while standing in a dungeon. “And besides, I think it’s best if we back off for today.”

Jessica looked ready to complain, but Alastair held up his hand.

“Don’t forget, we never came here to explore dungeons. We didn’t even know it was going to be a dungeon until Melia unlocked it with her key, remember? The smart thing to do would be retreat, tell somebody in the guild, and come back after we’ve leveled a bit and meet the requirements.”

Jessica’s face looked sour, but she slowly lowered her bow until her arm rested limply by her side. She looked defeated but didn’t argue.

All the while, Y’cennia was growing more and more confused.

“What does Synchronize mean?” she asked. The others turned to her, surprised. After the last several weeks, they had almost considered the [Alchemist] as a combat main, considering how much she had traveled with them recently.

“Synchronizing is a dungeon term,” Alastair explained. “It’s an option the system gives to normalize the party’s level to what it expects the dungeon to be. Most people say that synced levels are the same as whatever moment in time the dungeons were based on. Regardless, it’s rarely used because it doesn’t bring your level up, it only caps it at a certain point.”

“But why would anybody ever do that?” Y’cennia asked. Jessica answered with the only real answer.

“You get better loot.”

Everyone rolled their eyes.

“Besides that?” Ellesea said. “Some say for the challenge. Others use it to exploit loopholes, bringing low-level people into dungeons they shouldn’t have access to. It’s very dangerous, though… lower-level people draw aggro faster- from farther away -and it’s harder to get it off of them. If the party doesn’t know what they’re doing, it’s very easy for them to die.”

The group looked back at the portal, shimmering innocently. They were a hundred levels under what the bare minimum was at best. If they bypassed the restriction, how long would they last?

Alastair thought back to their first experience in a dungeon. That first group of bats nearly did them in, which was an alarming realization because they were fairly over-leveled. He didn’t fancy their chances of a surprise attack from monsters when everyone who would normally be a bodyguard would be severely weakened. The [Retainers]- even Melia -might not be able to save them. And that said nothing about Brandy, who was the lowest of them all.

“So we leave,” he said with finality. “We go back, we report to the guild, and we continue to Lakeridge like we initially planned. Once we gain more experience, we’ll come back and see what Melia’s Mansion has to offer.”

​

Not that there was any real danger exiting the dungeon, but Melia had been distracted the entire time. During the brief walk out, she had been operating on autopilot, following Brandy almost perfectly as she zigged and zagged through the cave. Once they were standing in the ruins, Brandy finally had enough.

“So, munchkin, what’s on your mind?”

“Hm?” Melia asked, finally coming to her senses. Her eyes went wide as if noticing for the first time that they had just exited the dungeon.

“See?” Brandy chuckled. “You weren’t with us. Penny for your thoughts?”

“Aren’t you curious about those portals?” Melia asked. Even if she did agree with Alastair’s assessment, that didn’t stop her from wanting to know what secrets they held.

“Of course,” Brandy laughed. “But right now they’re a little bit beyond us.”

“True…,” Melia grumbled, turning back to look at the dungeon longingly.

“Listen,” Brandy crouched down. “If you want to go in, you should go.”

Melia quickly snapped back to Brandy, scandalized. The healer shook her head.

“This isn’t like the game. We’re not playing for fun. It isn’t about discovering something before anybody else. And it’s not about missing out on seeing things together. You’re already over-leveled, and it isn’t like I’m going to catch up any time soon…or ever. In fact, I’m sure the rest of us would prefer it if you scouted things out. Better to have any surprises spoiled than risk dying and losing everything.”

Melia opened her mouth…and slowly closed it. Brandy was right, as usual. Keeping her friends safe was much more important than squabbling over somebody getting a few more xp than everybody else.

Not that it would matter for Melia’s bar, which hadn’t even raised a percentage since waking up.

Melia turned to her [Retainers].

“Don’t worry, Mistress,” Lethia said. “We will keep them safe.”

“I suppose it’s time to be responsible,” L’menia whined while stretching. When she straightened, she looked uncharacteristically serious. “Leave it to us. This…change…to your mansion will be reported to the right people.”

Melia turned back to Brandy, and all her resolve nearly faltered. Her best friend smiled reassuringly and shot her a thumbs-up.

“We’ll be fine! We’ll see you in Lakeridge!”

And with that, the group turned to march off before Melia could change her mind. A quick spike of panic watching her precious people walk away flared, but she snuffed it out. But was there something she was forgetting?

“Oh!” she called to their retreating backs. “Take Midna with you!”

“As if I was going to walk myself!” Brandy called back.

​

Melia re-entered the [Obsidian Mansion], this time more alert. She wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery, why a dungeon suddenly appeared in her mountain home, even though she didn’t think she’d solve it all tonight. If she could get one or two answers, she’d be satisfied.

Frankly, she wished she had better questions.

“Why” would only get her so far.

Melia rounded the dark cavern corner and once again found herself in the lobby. The gloves still floated by the podium, and she gave them another scan.

​

[Spectral Usher]

​

Elite

Level: 1002

​

Their name was yellow, meaning neutral, and her extra senses didn’t pick up any of the ethereal tethers linking it to any other mobs. If she wanted to kill it, she gave it strong chances that nothing else would aggro. In fact, it might be worth it to attack a few, maybe try to see how hard they hit or what skills they had. Maybe find out if they had any good loot.

But, if she did that, especially with this first mob, she might not get her [Ticket] into the main auditorium. Leaving the dungeon took her out of [Sunrise’s] instance, and she wasn’t too surprised to find it had been reset. They hadn’t killed any bosses and received a lockout. Now she was under her own instance, and she needed a new ticket.

​

“Ticket…?” the ghostly voice asked. Melia shook her head and played along.

“I don’t have one.”

The [Usher] paused, pulled out a ticket, and handed it to Melia. However, as Melia reached forward to grab it, she also received a system prompt.

​

[Anomaly detected. Due to the presence of dungeon originator, requirements waived, attunement unlocked.]

​

A quick glance at her ticket showed it was slightly different.

​

[Theater Ticket]

​

Level: 1

Rarity: Epic

​

On use: grants admittance to the Audience Chamber inside the Obsidian Mansion’s Theater.

​

Willcox Wobblefist is proud to present: Humanity’s greatest heroes and greatest folly! For one night only: The House That Death Built! Final Act.

​

Oh. Final Act? Melia assumed that because she was the leader of her one-person “party”, the dungeon recognized that she wasn’t an ordinary delver. “Dungeon Originator” might mean she was the one who opened the dungeon, as she did with her key. Or, and Melia had a hunch this was correct, because she was the person the dungeon was created to portray.

She didn’t need to be attuned to herself, right?

And that meant she’d get to skip ahead of the queue and check out the finale.

Melia tossed a glance toward the long rope barricade leading toward the snack bar and decided she’d spare the gloves working behind the counter this time. She quickly made her way across the hall and handed her ticket to the [Custodian] gloves waiting at the door.

“Ticket…?” it asked.

“Yes, yes, here you go.”

Melia handed over the ticket and the door opened. So far, nothing had changed.

But as soon as she set foot inside the auditorium, she knew what was different, and why this was the Final Act.

All the lights were on, the curtains were raised, and filling the entire stage was a massive, black and purple dragon.

​

[Meliastraza Obsidianheart, the Deceiver]

​

Raid Boss

Level: 2000

​

Melia frowned. So many things were wrong.

First, the obvious. The creature on the stage was a monster. It had the now familiar symbol of a fanged dragon’s mouth next to its name. Despite being a hostile mob, it probably wouldn’t attack until she triggered its script.

Next was the level. Once again, the world thought she was only level 2000; this was proof of that. The monster-Melia had the size to match: Melia was sure her real body was at least a third larger than this imposter.

Finally, the not-so-obvious. “The Deceiver”. In the game, Melia never had such a title, at least not given to her by the developers. It was, however, something she was known as in her role-playing; it was part of her character.

“Evil” dragon who hides among the mortals, “tricking” them to do her bidding. Part of the story was that she was hiding her true motivations and identity, and the heroes declared her evil.

From what Melia could remember from the “heroes’” side of the script, their suspicions stemmed from her presence among them, yet she never utilized her true strength, and they grew resentful.

Or something.

Her job, especially whenever they came together for a clash, was always to act pompous, arrogant, and somewhat flippant. She was, in all regards, better than the heroes.

​

Melia spared a glance at her status sheet and frowned deeply. She was very displeased to find, among her many titles (which somehow managed to yet again default to -the Magnificent), one she hadn’t seen.

The Deceiver.

So that was the way this world wanted to play, was it? Making her the Destroyer and calling her a Deceiver. As if she would ever stoop so low.

Melia pulled out her [Executioners] and stomped forward to the stage.

Just before she got within [Charging] range, the monster stirred.

​

“Insolent whelp!” A deep, feminine voice filled the entire auditorium. “So you’ve come at last?”

Melia froze. More than the fact that she was listening to her own voice coming from the beast, she knew those words. That was what she was supposed to say whenever a hero came to confront her. The line was meant to be said in a mocking, amused tone, dripping with condescension. Melia had spent hours cooped up in private places, practicing where she couldn’t be overheard, and the dragon captured her essence perfectly.

But this game went both ways. It meant she knew exactly what the next line was.

“A pity you’ve chosen to throw your life away. You’d make such an excellent plaything.”

“A pity you’ve chosen to throw your life away. You’d make such an excellent plaything.”

​

This time it was the dragon’s turn to pause. It opened one massive eye to peer at her, startled to find, not some adventurer quaking in their boots, but an angry gnome reciting her words as she spoke them. The dragon flicked a wing in agitation, shook its entire body, and rose. It tilted its head regally, peering down at Melia like one would an offending insect.

Melia found she was unbothered.

In fact, the first thought to go through her mind was what the dungeon actually intended to use as an arena for the fight. Were the chairs supposed to be obstacles?

…actually, the very first thought Melia had was, “Do I [Whirlwind] or do I [Bladestorm]?”

The internal debate was fierce.

However, it never reached a conclusion.

As the dragon stretched to its fullest, it froze, eyes unfocused, and…glitched?

It rippled, as if a massive bucket of water had been dumped all over it, and everything became distorted. The disturbance, or whatever it was, only lasted a second before the beast unfroze and snapped its head toward Melia. It opened its mouth and spoke.

“So, it’s finally you,” a voice said. But this time, it wasn’t Melia’s.

It was still female, but the actual cadence and pitch were hard to place. It was like several voices combined into one, both young and old, innocent and conniving, provocative and repressed. Melia had a feeling that whoever she was talking to right now wasn’t a simple dungeon monster, and she wasn’t part of the “Melia Family of Personalities,” magnificent or not.

“It is I,” Melia responded confidently, even though she was starting to feel out of her depth. Not that she felt scared, just…tired and slightly confused. “And who are you?”

“Do you not recognize me?” the voice smirked. “Or perhaps, have you never seen a mirror?”

“I’m not in the mood for games,” Melia declared. She popped one of her cooldowns, [Berserker Rage], just to show she wasn’t bluffing. If it came to blows, Melia was close enough to [Leap] into range and she could combo quickly.

“Peace,” the voice said, losing its humor and settling on a single, stable tone. It reminded Melia of an older woman who likely just got off work and only wanted to unwind in front of the television. “I don’t want to lose this opportunity. I just want to talk.”

Melia stared at the imposter dragon. Part of her really wanted to end its existence, in part for daring to wear her skin, but she held back. She let her buff expire and lowered her swords.

“Okay then,” Melia huffed. “Let’s talk. Let’s start with this. You obviously know me, but I don’t know you.”

“I am Chaos,” the voice said, and suddenly Melia paled. Very few people would have the audacity to claim to be a god, and of those few people, even fewer would have the aura to back it up.

This voice, this being…did.

“I apologize if I was rude,” Melia began hastily. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure she’d win this fight, though strangely, she really didn't think she’d lose it either.

“It’s understandable,” Chaos replied, waving the dragon’s hand in a very familiar gesture. It felt very human, and as such, almost wrong. Disturbing, to say the least. She wondered if she had the same mannerisms, and thinking back, she did. No wonder her friends were terrified of her…among other reasons.

Melia’s mind was reeling. She didn’t expect to come face-to-face with a deity today, and there were so many things she wanted to ask. Some important, some trivial; some pleasant, some less so.

And yet, what came out of her mouth was, “So does this mean you’re taking the Mansion back?”

Melia slapped a hand over her face. Of all the things to come spilling out in front of a goddess, her snarkiness was it? And not just any goddess, but the one from the “big three”?

“I suppose you might say that,” Chaos mused. “Though I dare say you’ve found a suitable replacement in the abbey. I must say, the work you’ve done there in my name pleases me very much.”

“In your name?” Melia repeated. “You’re not my god.”

“Oh, your devotion may belong to another, but that doesn’t keep me from enjoying what you’ve done. Your exploits in Lakeridge alone have earned you my favor. Why, those servants of my brother were quite beside themselves, running around trying to find the source of the commotion. To think that [Cooking] could cause such distractions….”

“Servants?” Melia tilted her head. “Oh, Order? The Order of Order?”

“Indeed,” the dragon grinned, and Melia could see why her face would be frightening. She shook her head. Before she could truly let her guard down, she needed to get one thing clear.

“Chaos…before we go any further, there’s something I need to know. Brandy. She’s my very best friend. The most precious thing in the world to me. Did you bring her here? She has a life back home. She didn’t deserve to be ripped away from it.”

“I did no such thing,” Chaos said, very seriously. “Nor do I know which godling did. I would not risk your ire.”

“Pah,” Melia scoffed. “My ire? You’re a goddess. One from the higher pantheon. What do you have to fear from me?”

The dragon stared, unblinking, at Melia intently for several long moments. Eventually, Chaos decided to speak.

“Are you truly oblivious of your domain? All the gods, save perhaps Balance itself, would be wary to draw your wrath.”

“Me?” Melia reeled back. “My domain? What are you talking about?”

At that, Chaos laughed.

“Oh, I could tell you easily enough, but it would be infinitely more amusing to watch you discover it on your own.”

“You find this funny, do you?” Melia asked, annoyed. She knew what a goddess named “chaos” might thrive on, but hearing it directly stung. “Do you delight in our struggles?”

“Of course,” Chaos barked. “We are gods. Everything is done for our amusement. How else would we keep the boredom at bay? Perhaps, one day, you will understand.”

Melia didn’t need to be a god to know exactly what Chaos was talking about. It’s why she found such amusement in pulling small pranks and lightheartedly trolling people. However, thinking about how she was a dragon now in this life, with an incredibly long, possibly unending natural lifespan, she didn’t like the insinuations the goddess was making.

“Nevermind that,” Melia shook her head. “You obviously had something to say. Or will you appear every time I come into this dungeon?”

“No,” Chaos denied. “This time was unique. It’s so rare for me to compare my work to the real thing. Normally, they are not so…alive.”

“I see,” Melia frowned. Hearing the goddess of dungeons talk about the bosses like historical figures cast them in a different light. Especially raid bosses, who were responsible for some of the greatest atrocities against Humanity. Melia didn’t know how to feel about joining such…illustrious company.

“I must admit, as I went about painting this masterpiece, I was always curious. Why did you never smite the insects that took up arms against you? Why did you allow yourself to be defeated?”

“Insects?” Melia asked. “Do you mean my friends? I would never really hurt them; it was all a game.”

“Do you mean to say that they were so far beneath you that you never considered it possible to lose? That you merely toyed with them until it was too late?”

The dragon tilted its head thoughtfully, tapping its chin with a claw.

“Yes, I suppose I can see it now. Such hubris is common, even among the gods.”

“No,” Melia shook her head. “I mean it. It was a game. The fighting was never real.”

“I think, we have a different recollection of history, you and I,” Chaos said, frowning. “What were the Visitors’ true motivations? Perhaps only Balance could say.” The dragon shook its head before eventually settling on a massive grin. “At least, it does reassure me that I chose the right personality for your counterpart, and a fitting end to the fight.”

“Wait,” Melia held up her hand. “What do you mean by that? That doesn’t sound good at all. You better have made this thing beatable!”

“Oh, it is!” Chaos laughed. “Though it might take the best of those precious little adventurers and their guilds many, many tries. I expect to receive quite the tribute in the coming months.”

“Tribute?” Melia asked. “Is that what you call it when people die in a dungeon? Do you not value their lives?”

“Do not misunderstand,” the dragon scoffed. “I value them more than the people themselves. Why do you think I bestow resurrection on them? And should I not be rewarded justly for my work? It is a pity the steward responsible for handling rebirth outside of my domain has become slack in their duties. Those willing to take greater risks in my dungeons have dwindled of late. A pity; I spent so much time working on them. They offered the greatest challenge…and reward.”

“You mean the most amusement,” Melia sighed. She thought she had a better picture of the goddess’ character now. Fitting for her name: she seemed to care about Humanity, but was rather lax in their day-to-day treatment. Or safety. What was a little harm if she could undo it in her own domain? They got rewarded and she got entertainment. Melia had heard enough.

She supposed she should be grateful that the powerful deity was willing to share as many explanations as she had. And since she didn’t seem to be responsible for dragging Brandy into this mess, Melia didn’t have any beef with Chaos. In fact, she kind of liked the sultry-sounding higher goddess. Melia imagined that if she were a player, she would have often visited the forums for some quality trolling. There was just one last thing.

“So, do you not like it when people beat your dungeons?” Melia asked. “Does it upset you when they win? Should I not run through these to check them out?”

“Goodness me, why would I be upset?” Chaos asked. Even through the draconic visage, she looked genuinely confused. “I find no better praise, no higher joy, than when a party successfully completes a dungeon. It makes me feel not all is lost, should the world descend into another age of madness.”

“But they sometimes die?”

“Well, there is that,” the dragon somehow shrugged. “And then they come back. Sometimes, they even learn. As for you, Destroyer…I look forward to your struggles the most.”

Melia almost fell for the taunt, but when she glanced at the dungeon version of herself, she remembered its level.

“Eh, it won’t be much of a struggle. Why’d you make it level 2000?”

“Because that’s what you were?” Chaos asked, nonplussed. Melia giggled and shook her head.

“Perhaps. But I’m not anymore.”

The giant dragon blinked, slowly rising to its feet. It brought its snout down to the floor of the stage, shoving it right in Melia’s face.

“Is that so?” Chaos challenged. Melia hardly had time to register the beast’s chest fill with a massive breath…before she was engulfed, head to toe, in a white-hot flame.

After several seconds, the flames died off, and she was left standing, slightly scorched but not actually burned, smoke rising from her shoulders and her hair. One pink highlight on the end of her pigtail retained a tiny ember, slowly singeing toward her scalp.

“That was uncalled for,” Melia complained, pinching the tiny flame out. Then she retrieved her [Executioners] and stabbed them straight through the dragon’s throat.

The first strike took three-quarters of the dragon’s health, and the second brought it down to a sliver.

“I…see,” Chaos said. She didn’t sound hurt herself, only mildly surprised. The same could not be said for the body she was inhabiting, which quickly fell to the stage, extinguished.

The stage fell still, the sound of blood trickling gently from the wounds and splattering against the polished wood the only thing to be heard. The dragon was dead, and, more importantly, the goddess' presence was entirely erased.

A thought occurred to Melia.

If she wanted to ask any more questions, she should have done so before she silenced the mouth.