I Only Tame Dragons

Lydia's breath came fast and sharp as she weaved through the labyrinth's shifting walls, her every step measured and precise.

Lucas was relentless.

He moved like a phantom, gliding through the maze with an unnatural grace, his dual blades flashing like silver streaks in the dim light.

Lydia had faced plenty of speed-based opponents before, but Lucas was on another level.

Each time she tried to create distance, he was already behind her.

Each time she threw a dagger, he dodged with ease—his wind magic guiding his every step.

"You're fast," Lucas admitted, his voice an amused whisper carried by the wind. "But not fast enough."

Before Lydia could react, he vanished.

A cold chill ran down her spine.

Then—pain.

Lucas appeared just behind her, his blade slicing across her shoulder. The wound wasn't deep, but it was a warning.
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He could have gone for a vital point.

Instead, he was playing with her.

Lydia gritted her teeth, rolling forward to escape, but Lucas chased after her like a shadow.

"Where's that confidence from before?" he taunted. "A thief should never be this easy to corner."

Lydia clicked her tongue. "I'm a relic hunter."

She wasn't used to being the one hunted.

But she wasn't about to let that last.

Then, just as Lucas lunged forward for another strike—

A roar tore through the battlefield.

The very air shook as an immense shadow engulfed them both.

Lucas froze mid-step, his eyes snapping toward the sky.

And then—the Dracolich landed.

A shockwave erupted from its impact, sending dust and debris flying in all directions.

Lydia instinctively shielded her face, her cloak whipping violently around her.

Lucas stumbled backward, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"What the—?!"

The Dracolich's massive, skeletal wings stretched outward, flames flickering between its exposed ribs. Its glowing blue eyes locked onto Lucas, the cold, unfeeling stare of an undead dragon analyzing its prey.

Lucas cursed under his breath, tightening his grip on his blades.

"This isn't your fight!" he growled at the dragon.

The Dracolich ignored him.

Its jaw unhinged, blue necrotic flames swirling in its maw.

Then—it exhaled.

A torrent of black fire erupted, roaring toward Lucas.

The Windrunner barely dodged, his body blurring as he used [Windwalk] to propel himself backward. The fire struck the maze walls behind him, warping the stone with its sheer intensity.

"Tch."

Lucas landed a distance away, his cloak slightly singed.

Lydia sighed in relief and was thankful that Horizon had sent his summons to aid her. For a moment, she didn't know what to do, honestly.

But with the Dracolich here, she was confident that she could survive and win this match.

Lydia observed Lucas.

He was fast, but now?

He was distracted.

And that was all she needed.

Lydia moved.

In the chaos of the Dracolich's attack, she disappeared into the shadows.

Lucas realized too late.

His eyes darted around the labyrinth, searching for her.

"Where—?!"

The cold steel of a dagger pressed against his throat.

Lydia's voice was quiet, deadly.

"A rogue should never be this easy to corner."

Then, with one swift motion, she slashed.

Lucas collapsed.

The fight was over.

Lydia exhaled slowly, stepping back as Lucas's unconscious body hit the stone floor.

She placed a hand over her bleeding shoulder, her expression unreadable.

Then, she turned toward the Dracolich, which loomed over her like a guardian of the dead.

Its flaming blue eyes regarded her for a moment, then it turned its gaze toward the rest of the battlefield.

Lydia followed its line of sight.

Her heart pounded.

Silphie.

Without another thought, she ran.

The fight wasn't over yet.

She still needed to help Silphie and Frigid.

Lydia was about to run toward Silphie's direction when a sharp, nagging sensation crawled up her spine.

Danger.

Her instincts screamed at her, and without hesitation, she twisted her body—just in time to evade a dagger slicing through the air toward her throat.

She barely dodged. Too close.

Lydia skidded to a halt, spinning on her heel, her heart pounding.

Her eyes landed on the figure standing just behind her.

Lucas.

Her breath hitched.

He was still standing.

No, that wasn't right.

He was moving, but the wounds she had inflicted were still there—deep gashes that should have rendered him unconscious. Blood still dripped from them, but there was no pain in his eyes.

No recognition.

His movements were unnatural, a marionette dancing on invisible strings. His skin had taken on a grayish pallor, and the once-vibrant flicker in his gaze had been replaced with something cold.

Something lifeless.

Lydia's grip tightened around her daggers.

"What . . . what the hell happened to you?" she murmured under her breath.

Lucas did not respond. It was due to the artifact item that was given to him by the Elven Elders.

Instead—he lunged.

Faster than before.

Lydia barely had time to react before his twin blades flashed toward her again, his movements eerily smooth, like a ghost gliding across the battlefield.

She parried the first strike, metal clashing against metal, but the sheer force sent her stumbling backward.

Something was wrong.

Lucas was stronger than before.

Faster.

And worst of all—he felt no pain.

Lydia's mind raced.

This . . . this wasn't the same fighter she had defeated moments ago.

This was something else entirely.

Something unnatural.

Her eyes flickered toward the Dracolich, still looming over the battlefield, its presence casting long shadows across the ground.

Lucas wasn't alive.

He was undead.

Reanimated. Probably by something.

Brought back by something.

"Damn it . . ." Lydia hissed through gritted teeth, flipping her daggers in her hands.

She didn't know how this had happened. But she did know one thing.

If he wasn't staying down—then she'd just have to put him down again.

For good.

Lucas lunged again.

Lydia met Lucas head-on, her daggers flashing in the dim light as she carved deep gashes across his body.

But no matter how many times she sliced through flesh, no matter how lethal her strikes were—

Lucas didn't stop.