Darkness.
Matteo's screams had long faded into silence. He drifted in a void—neither asleep nor awake. No pain. No sensation. Only breath and black.
Then—
A pulse.
One heartbeat.
Then another.
Faster. Louder. Deeper.
Then the world shifted.
He opened his eyes to a vast sky of swirling crimson and violet. Ash rained softly from the heavens. Beneath him stretched a sea of shattered earth and broken mountains. Black spires pierced the clouds, and fire lit the cracks in the land.
He stood—barefoot, shirtless, and cold—at the center of a circular stone platform floating in this ruined plane.
A thunderclap rolled in the distance.
And then he felt it.
The presence.
Something ancient. Massive. Alive.
The sky cracked.
And from the clouds above, it descended.
A dragon.
Not like the ones from fairy tales. This one was majestic and terrible. A creature of living shadow and power.
Its scales were black as a starless night, with crimson veins glowing faintly beneath, like molten lava sealed inside obsidian. Its wings spanned the horizon, and each breath it exhaled warped the air around it like heat over asphalt.
Its eyes locked onto him—glowing slits of burning gold.
Matteo couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
And yet he stood his ground.
The dragon lowered its head until its massive snout hovered just above the platform. Its voice, when it came, wasn't a sound. It was a truth—booming in Matteo's soul like thunder in a canyon.
"You are not worthy."
Matteo blinked.
"Excuse me?"
The dragon exhaled, and the air grew heavier.
"You ask for power... but power is not given. It is earned. In pain. In fire. In death."
"I didn't ask for it," Matteo said quietly. "It was offered to me."
"You accepted."
The air twisted.
"Now you must prove yourself. To me. To the world. To yourself."
The dragon reared back, and the sky shook.
"Should you fail—your soul will be devoured. And the Rune shall shatter."
"...Great," Matteo muttered. "Nothing's ever easy, huh?"
The dragon roared—a sound that shattered the platform and sent Matteo flying backward.
He crashed into stone and rolled, coughing dust.
Before he could even get up, something massive slammed down in front of him—a claw the size of a house.
He scrambled up, panting.
"Alright... you wanna play it that way?"
The mask at his side trembled faintly, but did not speak.
Matteo clenched his fists.
"I didn't survive Earth's hellholes... just to die here in a therapy session with a lizard."
The dragon's mouth curled slightly.
"Good."
Its body shimmered—then began to collapse in on itself. Shifting, warping.
And before Matteo's eyes, the dragon became a humanoid figure—a tall, black-scaled warrior with crimson runes etched across its chest. Its face was featureless but wore a long, flowing crimson cape of fire.
A sword formed in its hand.
"Then fight."
The humanoid dragon charged.
Matteo barely dodged the first slash—its crimson blade humming with heat. The air around it distorted, scorched.
He rolled across the ruined platform, boots scraping stone, panting hard. His short sword was already half broken, the edge chipped from earlier clashes. Blood ran down his forearm, shallow cuts stinging.
The dragon was relentless. Each blow of its sword sent shockwaves through the space. The earth beneath Matteo's feet cracked from pressure alone. It was like fighting gravity itself—inevitable, crushing, unrelenting.
But he moved. Again. Again.
Dodge. Duck. Swing. Retreat.
He wasn't thinking. He didn't need to. This was muscle. Reflex. Instinct.
Survive.
He caught the dragon's arm with a sudden side-step, slashing it with his blade.
Nothing. No wound. Not even a dent.
The creature's golden eyes burned into his.
"You are weak."
Matteo snarled, backpedaling.
"You're not exactly easy to kill!"
The dragon's wings unfurled, casting a shadow that drowned the red sky.
"Show me your truth, Matteo."
'Wait... How does it know my name?"
Its sword came down.
This time, he was too slow.
Pain. His side split open. He fell.
"Dammit...!"
Blood soaked into the earth. His legs trembled. His vision blurred.
The mask, still strapped to his side, pulsed.
"You want out?" Matteo muttered hoarsely, already feeling the cold crawl up his spine. "Fine. Have fun."
He pressed the mask to his face.
Snap.
White hair. Glowing purple eyes. A wide, manic grin spread across his lips. His limbs crackled with motion—faster, looser, freer.
Laughter echoed through the cracked sky as he lunged.
This time, it was different.
He danced around the dragon's blade, flipping, twisting, spinning.
Chaotic.
Beautiful.
The dragon's sword clashed with the ground—and Matteo was already behind it.
He cut.
And cut.
And cut.
But...
No damage.
The dragon didn't bleed. It didn't even blink.
It moved through his attacks like smoke around wind.
Then it swatted him from the air like a bug.
He crashed into a black stone spire.
Bones creaked. Mask cracked.
"Ghk—"
His laugh cut short. He coughed.
The dragon stood above him again. The humanoid shape flickered, and for a moment, it returned to its full draconic form. Wings. Horns. Power.
"Is this your truth?"
It stepped closer.
"You fight well when the mask is on. But what is this power, Matteo? Why do you need this... conduit?"
Matteo blinked through the haze.
"What?"
The dragon's golden eyes narrowed.
"This mask... Why do you need it. When the figure inside is you."
"No. It's not."
"Then why... when you wear it... do you feel alive?"
Matteo said nothing.
"Why do you chain that self away?"
Silence.
The red winds howled across the ruined field.
Matteo slowly pulled the mask off.
It felt heavier than before.
Like a weight soaked in old blood and darker things.
"Why do you need a mask," the dragon said softly now, "to express what's already inside?"
"I don't know..." Matteo whispered, voice trembling.
The dragon crouched, massive head lowered, firelight glowing beneath its obsidian scales.
"That was your trial. Not the sword. Not the fight."
Its breath curled around him like heat.
"I have seen what you are. The mask is your freedom—but also your chain. A cage. A coping mechanism for a soul too afraid to be known."
"You fight to survive for a life that you do not live."
Matteo's hands clenched around the broken mask.
His teeth gritted. "...Why does it matter?"
The dragon's next words struck like thunder.
"Because if you cannot accept your own power—then you are not worthy of mine."
Then it vanished.
The sky trembled.
A thousand red runes burned across the void.
And Matteo collapsed into the dark.