―!
An indescribable roar. The sound, resembling both thunder and an explosion, even evoked the roar of a dragon to those who heard it from afar.
The dragon’s cry echoed throughout the entire city. It was only natural that Tiamat, whose hearing wasn’t exceptionally keen, would focus on that sound.
“What is that? There’s no festival or anything like that today….”
“It doesn’t seem to be a festival. Tiamat, does this kind of thing happen often?”
They were in the residential section of the body segment, near the tail segment.
It was not far from the heart segment, where lodgings for travelers and heroes from other regions existed.
Thus, the destruction occurring at the palace was visibly apparent even to them, and the roar was almost violent in its intensity.
An unprecedented level of chaos, something none of them had ever experienced before. Even Ereta and Angie, who weren’t particularly sensitive, reacted.
“Something… is fighting.”
So Phey, whose senses were sharper, reacted instantly. Frowning, she looked toward the palace where a towering dust cloud was rising.
All the sounds reaching her ears stemmed from the noise of battle.
The clang of metal, the tearing of flesh, the shouts and screams of those caught in the conflict.
Amidst the burgeoning deaths, someone was fighting.
Who is fighting what?
What could possibly cause such intense destruction?
Their pondering didn’t last long. Those who had dealt with priests in Aslan’s group understood.
This was the work of a priest.
In that case, the one opposing them was obvious.
However, the real question wasn’t who was fighting but rather who they were fighting against.
Belus Alphen, the homeland of the dragonkin, had never once allowed outside forces to invade.
At least, that was what Tiamat knew.
Yet somehow, where had these priests come from, and why were they fighting in the heart segment? Tiamat couldn’t figure it out.
There was only one way to find out.
Tiamat frowned as she stared in the direction of the heart segment and then took off her jacket.
As the leather vest fell to the ground, the strong wind blowing past her scales carried whispers of the scene deep within the dust cloud.
Scales, a tail, and wings—dragonkin traits.
The Dragon King and Aslan.
These two were fighting each other, aiming to take each other’s lives.
Tiamat’s expression hardened upon confirming the scene through her scales.
It wasn’t because Aslan dared to swing a sword at the Dragon King.
It was because the Dragon King was fighting Aslan on equal footing—or perhaps even better.
Aslan was being pushed back. Struggling with defense and evasion, unable to launch proper attacks. Even the blows raining down barely left scratches on the Dragon King’s scales, failing to cut deeply.
‘Could this… be the Dragon King?’
No, it couldn’t be the Dragon King.
Even if the Dragon King, having inherited breath weapons, sturdy scales, and wings from an ancient deity, there was no way they could wield such power.
Then what was this?
The moment Tiamat realized, her hand moved instinctively. Her large hand grabbed the bow, pulled the string, and drew an arrow in one fluid motion.
Kwanggang!
The wall of the building where the group had been resting collapsed, revealing something emerging from the rubble.
“Damn it, what the hell―”
Between Angie’s exclamation, Tiamat felt the fluctuating wind the moment the wall crumbled and immediately ducked low.
Tatat!
Two bullets whizzed past where Tiamat’s head had been. These small projectiles, moving at a speed just barely catchable by Tiamat’s scales, were exceedingly fast.
In response, Tiamat’s arrow pierced through the dust, impaling something.
Phwak!
Beyond the projectiles lay a cluster of steel constructs.
Steel men and beasts. Each held their own weaponry.
At the center, a mechanical entity that had blocked Tiamat’s arrow with its body now extended its hands, which held dual guns, toward them.
“Where the hell did these bastards come from?!”
Without a word, Phey drew two swords, while Ereta unsheathed her axe and muttered “Predators.” Confused, Angie raised her fists and voiced her bewilderment.
And indeed, even Tiamat had no idea where these beings had emerged from.
Their sudden appearance, bypassing Tiamat’s superhuman tactile senses and Phey’s heightened perception, was anything but ordinary.
One thing was clear.
They had already infiltrated Belus Alphen and were targeting Aslan’s group.
Likely, Aslan wasn’t an exception either. Realizing the situation, Tiamat closed his eyes.
Using his heightened senses to perceive the surroundings, he quickly made a judgment.
On their side: Tiamat, Angie, Ereta, and Phey.
Losing one person wouldn’t be a problem here.
On the other hand, Aslan was alone, battling something taking the form of the Dragon King.
While staying here might be safe, going to help Aslan would make a difference, and there was only one person capable of doing so.
The decision was swift. Eyes still closed, Tiamat grabbed Ereta by the nape.
“Ereta! Head to the center of the commotion! Find Aslan!”
A loud shout. Immediately after, Ereta’s body flew out the window. Despite her surprised “Eh?” Tiamat didn’t flinch and continued swinging his bow.
Caaang!
A blade rebounding off the bow. Pushing away the blade, Tiamat shouted.
“You brats, kill them all!”
*
A spreading shockwave. Death racing faster than the shockwave and accompanying roar. Aslan directed the blood-soaked sword imbued with purity towards that death.
That death was invisible. Since it was unseen, it relied entirely on intuition rather than sight.
Aslan’s extraordinary instincts, closely tied to survival, ignited as his sword clashed with the Dragon King’s foot.
Creeeeeng!
The resounding crash when they collided. Amidst the excruciating pain in his wrist, Aslan barely moved.
Instead of resisting the brute force pushing his blade aside, he rotated, channeling that momentum into a slashing motion. A thrusting slash curved counterclockwise.
Kaaaang!
But it was futile. The Dragon King’s scales couldn’t be pierced even with a thrust aimed at the heart.
Regardless of the rotational force behind the thrust, it couldn’t penetrate even a fraction.
“Grrk….”
The sword skittered, sparks flying, and Aslan’s stance faltered before he discarded the sword and withdrew the second spear strapped to his back.
Woooom!
The low hum of turbines followed by a distinctly human attack.
A right straight punch.
Accompanied by a shockwave, the punch was invisible to Aslan’s eyes.
If hit directly, death. If grazed, death. Fortune burned fiercely, warning of impending doom.
Warned that death was imminent, Aslan twisted his body to evade, extending his spear first.
Crack!
The left-hand spear shattered under the impact. The Dragon King’s straight punch, which crushed even lightning, narrowly missed Aslan as he flattened himself to avoid it. The slowed momentum gave him just enough time to escape.
Gooooo!
But as the fist passed, a storm erupted, causing Aslan to lose his balance.
Kwaang!
With his balance lost, the Dragon King’s kick aimed at Aslan’s head came down. Flying dirt and rock fragments scattered around like a grenade exploding. Using his cloak to shield himself from the shrapnel, Aslan retreated.
Hardly had he created some distance when the Dragon King assumed a stance. Pressing his tail to the ground, lifting the heel of his left foot, firmly planting his right foot, and halting his movement.
―!
The next instant, the Dragon King disappeared. However, Aslan remained calm, keeping his gaze forward while drawing out his staff. Pure white flames of purity erupted around the staff.
Being deceived even for a moment and allowing a single effective strike would mean death. Aslan smirked, seeing through the technique’s essence.
The Dragon King’s move was a front kick.
An atrocious blow accelerating forward using only the tail and right leg.
The space seemed distorted momentarily, and Aslan extended the staff in his left hand.
Creeeeeng!
Dragonkin nearby were torn apart by the spreading shockwave, spitting blood as they died. The cobblestone streets shattered into pieces.
Of course, Aslan wasn’t exempt from the effects. Thrown back, he spat blood that rose up in his throat and grimaced.
Bang, bang, gurrrr…
Aslan was already battered.
After merely a few defenses, evasions, and exchanges, Aslan was inching closer to death.
Yet there was no room to complain. Aslan understood; this was the best outcome possible.
A single mistake would have already cost him his life.
Even with overwhelming numbers, pressing forward was impossible, leaving no choice but to be drawn in.
It was the sheer force of overwhelming violence.
Such was the High Priest.
A being of a different caliber compared to regular priests, utterly unreasonable.
A self-aware calamity sent into the mortal world.
An unprepared individual cannot defeat a priest. But even a prepared one cannot defeat a High Priest.
To defeat a High Priest requires immense luck bordering on miracles, thorough preparation.
Things Aslan currently lacked.
But if he didn’t have them, he’d simply create them. Aslan was confident that when his companions gathered, they could turn the tide.
Beneath that confidence, Aslan desperately bought time, continuing to swing his sword and evade attacks despite death creeping closer with each passing moment.
He managed to block every attack, though neither his eyes nor his defenses could keep up.
Rolling to barely regain his footing, Aslan panted heavily, holding a spear in his right hand and a staff in his left.
Even with the determination approaching the limits of superhuman endurance, this was a grueling fight.
The mental and physical toll was severe.
But he was steadily buying time. Soon, his allies would arrive…
“I know what you’re waiting for.”
Breathing heavily, Aslan heard the Dragon King speak in a low tone.
The twin turbines dangling from both arms continued to hum.
“You think that when your allies arrive, they’ll reverse this situation. And you’re right about that.”
“What… are you talking about…”
As Aslan gasped out the words, the Dragon King looked at him with golden eyes filled with deep caution and added another line while assuming a stance.
“Reinforcements won’t come.”
Leaning slightly forward, with his right leg extended forward, and his fists raised high, trembling with shockwaves.
“I’ve accounted for all your allies. I’ve already dispatched priests to wherever they are. They’re arranged in compositions your allies will struggle against… so reinforcements won’t come.”
With that, the Dragon King fell silent. He lightly leaped forward, then shot ahead.
Another shockwave rippled outward as the dark-scaled beast lunged violently toward Aslan.
Despite his confusion and frustration, Aslan swung his sword to deflect the attack.
And once again, he was sent flying.
Tumbling across the ground, crashing into it, spraying blood and coughing it up.
Every roll left deeper trails of blood across the floor.
Until now, Aslan had survived solely due to the health enhancement granted by wild magic and the shock absorption capabilities of Steamfalos’ wings.
Without either of those, he would have perished.
Scarcely rising after slamming into the ground, Aslan’s head was targeted by another upward kick from the Dragon King.
‘Save.’
Closing his eyes, Aslan whispered internally. The world slowed as countless deaths filled the space. By stacking his own corpses, Aslan barely avoided death.
KwaAAAAANG!
The pure energy Aslan barely placed in the path of the upward kick preserved his life.
Rising high into the air before plunging into the ground, Aslan spat out the blood filling his mouth and struggled to rise.
He couldn’t recklessly use foresight.
He could only use it when faced with an unavoidable, fatal move.
If he used foresight with every exchange, his brain would surely melt before the fight ended or any solution was found.
Already bleeding from excessive use of foresight, Aslan had to move even more cautiously.
Breathing heavily and adjusting his grip on the sword, Aslan stepped forward to block another attack from the Dragon King. The scene was overwhelmingly one-sided, beyond any semblance of parity.
Watching this spectacle from afar, anyone’s heart would feel constricted. It was so overwhelming that one couldn’t help but rush in.
Kaaaaaang!
The staff flew out of his hand. It happened while trying to block a spinning back kick. The weakened grip couldn’t withstand the Dragon King’s powerful leg strength.
Glancing at the flying stone sword, Aslan swung his last remaining Dragon Hunter Spear to block the heavy tail strike.
The golden spear shattered into pieces and scattered. Through the gaps, clawed fingers lunged for Aslan’s neck. Clenching his teeth, Aslan closed his eyes.
‘Save.’
He couldn’t avoid it without foresight.
He had to push through this moment, even if it meant overexertion.
Claws aimed at Aslan’s neck approached at considerable speed, despite the distance.
Could he dodge by twisting his body? No, the power was too great. Even a deflected trajectory would result in a fatal wound.
Reducing the distance wouldn’t help. The Dragon King had shockwaves. A slight push from the shockwave would pierce his neck.
The only option left was sacrificing his arm. Without Equalization, preserving his life took precedence. Raising his arm, Aslan thought, if this failed, he could summon and try again.
Just as Aslan thought this, a figure with white hair appeared, fluttering gently.
It was Ereta, standing with her back to Aslan, axe in hand, stepping between him and the Dragon King and blocking the incoming attack with the axe handle.
Her intentions were obvious. Despite possessing foresight, knowing it hadn’t yet become reality, Aslan’s eyes widened in shock.
“Ere―”
Crack! Phwak!
The axe handle splintered, Ereta’s leather chest armor tore open, and the black claws ripped through her shirt, barely missing her skin.
Blood splattered Aslan’s head and face.
Level 10 Superhuman Insight.
The insight delivered by this incredible fortune was vivid beyond belief.
Ereta fell. She leaned toward Aslan, burying her face in his shoulder as she continuously spat blood.
The warmth spreading along his shoulder. The cooling body temperature. The slowing heartbeat. Aslan stopped, feeling the death of another.
This was foresight, merely an illusion. Even if she was a comrade, there was no need to panic within the foresight.
Hastily removing Ereta’s dying body, he needed to stand and find a way out.
But he couldn’t.
Aslan suddenly remembered the words of his teacher, Budonggong.
“You care too much. When fighting, you must set aside that affection.”
How did he respond back then? He couldn’t recall. Likely, he brushed it off as insignificant.
To that reaction, Budonggong grabbed Aslan by the head and spoke sternly, his usually stoic face showing concern.
“Who said you should be cold all the time? It’s just… don’t let personal attachments sway you. You’ll die if you do.”
Become a warrior, Aslan. Insisting on being human will prevent you from winning.
Recalling those words, Aslan thought.
It seems his teacher was right.
Even in this foresight, Aslan couldn’t let go of Ereta’s body.
Because he was human.
He couldn’t abandon his humanity.
Without it, there would be no Lee Hyun-woo left in Aslan.
Bound by that attachment, Aslan embraced Ereta. He couldn’t stop the warmth and blood slipping away.
As death approached, the woman’s small lips moved, uttering her final breath.
“I… love you…”
With that, Ereta breathed her last.
She vanished, leaving behind only vivid emotions. Even in this foresight.
He knew. How could he not?
But he avoided it out of fear. Afraid of this happening, afraid of losing and being unable to rise again.
Aslan had cowardly ignored it.
That’s why he distanced himself from Phey and rationalized Ereta’s feelings.
This must be his penance.
Looking at the approaching Dragon King’s foot, Aslan died once.
His headless body collapsed.
And time rewound.
Back to before Aslan’s death, before Ereta’s final confession.
Watching it unfold, Aslan realized.
He couldn’t let go of this foresight. Letting go would make it reality.
Seeing the approaching death again, Aslan moved.
He moved desperately to hold onto this foresight.
