Set Me Free

Chapter 4. Firepower

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"Kid, get off the ground. Spit your blood and bare your teeth; go down a savage; go down fighting."

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Still, no sign of the dragon, and he couldn't afford to stall any longer—not that that was what he was doing, of course. He was just enjoying himself; he hadn't had a good fight in quite a while now.

"Stop him; we'll lose our heads if he escapes!"

"Where do you bastards keep coming from?" There was seemingly no end, and he knew that if he made a run for it without taking out the majority of the archers, he wouldn't even make it ten paces; a horse wouldn't work for similar reasons.

If he could last until the sun had fully set then he wouldn't have to worry about the damn archers. The problem was, though, that the longer he waited the more his arms would lock up. He hadn't had any decent food, and he was suffering from dehydration; without moisture, he eventually wouldn't have anything left for his body to convert into ignition for his explosions.

No matter what they threw at him, he wasn't going to lose; even if he had to fight his own body, he would come out on top. He swore that he would never lose to anyone ever again; even if he had to die, he would make sure he was the victor. Bakugou knew very well that it sounded arrogant, even insane, but that was just how he was.

"Shit." He cursed as he was forced to back up, he was nearing the edge and he knew it wouldn't be in his favour if they got the high ground over him right now. There were far too many left to allow something like that. He would dig in his heels and steel his body because he now refused to fall back a single step more.

With a savage cry, he adapted the demeanour that many had described as akin to that of a wild animal: a warrior with nothing to lose; a gamble with his flesh on the line. Punching and kicking, he used anything and everything around him, defeating anyone that crossed his path.

As he predicted, he was starting to run on empty, and at this point, he was already using what you would refer to as his 'last reserve'. Thankfully, though, the sun had nearly finished its descent over the far reaches and light was fading fast.

Bakugou gritted his teeth as a fist collided with his jaw, a blow he would usually be able to avoid if his body was up to par. Covered in cuts and bruises and spitting blood, he wasn't going to last, and he knew that, but he couldn't give in. If he gave up now, then this was all for nothing; everything he did today and every other day of his life would amount to nothing more than a bloodied heap waiting to be put down like a dog. He refused.

"I'm not done!" another blow to his sides.

"The fuck was that. Are we fighting or dancing?" another arrow.

"Do pieces of sh*t like you even know how to use those!?" Bakugou staggered as he barely dodged the sloppy swing of a sword. He must have taken down a small army by now, but no matter how many he knocked down or finished off, another would just replace them. While not many were skilled, their numbers alone were overwhelming, and a small flame of doubt flickered in his eyes before he doused it with another almighty battle cry. He cut himself off as he was forced into a roll and a painful landing on the hard stones below.

"What the shite?" Bakugou kicked and thrashed against thick ropes that tangled further as he struggled. If only he had his dagger, he would have broken free in an instant, but like all his other weapons, they were God knows where. He broke the first rule of combat: never let your guard down. Never let your opponent catch you off guard.

The ground shook with the force of something nearby shattering.

The blonde winced as his ears were suddenly assaulted by a splitting, primal shrill, sound he hadn't heard since he was seven years old. A bright flash of molten and glowing metal coated the vast stretch in front of him, cutting off the soldiers at his front, followed by a dark shadow and a mighty impact at his back.

Spinning his head around quickly, Bakugou was treated to the sight of the same mighty scarlet that he had recently become acquainted with, using its whip-like tail in a flash to knock away another dozen or so men before unleashing another war cry.

He was mesmerized. The setting sunlight hit the beast in ways that made it seem as if it were set ablaze, and he wasn't so sure that it wasn't. Layers of muscle rippled beneath its armour as it crashed through rows of barricades and flesh, slowing for nothing. Mighty black claws ripped through shields and catapults, yet he always returned to a stance by his side as a fierce protector.

If he was thinking straight, perhaps he would have stopped to question why it had come to his rescue that day; it could have taken off on its own as he had done. It had no obligation to him, nor did he have any to it; it was a mere whim that drove him to set the beast free. Yet one act would, in turn, spark a series of events far beyond what anyone could have ever even imagined; it was both the beginning and the end. While he was blissfully unaware of what the future held, one thing was for sure: he would never forget this moment for as long as he lived.With speed unfitting its size, the scarlet beast leapt from the tower and column, collecting everyone in its wake. Any attempts to subdue it were useless; some desperate fools even attempted to hang onto the chain that was still attached to its hind leg before being sent crashing along with the beast in its path of destruction.

Arrows hailed down, bouncing off uselessly like pebbles on a shield, before the dragon sent a fiery hail of its own; however, this was far more effective than mere arrows. The entire fortress was burning down around them, and hordes of remaining soldiers were running around in a panic, escaping or trying to douse the violently spreading flames.

A sickly cracking met his ears as the wood of a banister cracked and splintered above him before giving way. Time almost seemed to slow down; his palms sparked but wouldn't ignite, and his body struggled to shift, his reflexes still intact with a burst of adrenaline yet unable to respond.

Yet he felt nothing. No searing skin or crushing pressure—no pain at all, even from his prior wounds. His heart was still beating in a rapid cacophony, his ears ringing, and his head pounding to a steady beat of a rhythm he couldn't quite place.

He was alive, but within seconds he was blissfully unaware of anything as he succumbed to fatigue.

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