Shards of flying scales. Considering the significant amount of corpses and resources that went into each of these scales, the current situation was anything but ordinary.
That body was confident it could withstand even several attacks from the Supreme Divinity’s Sword. Yet, those scales were sliced off without putting up even a shred of resistance.
The Dragon King’s gaze turned toward the sword.
The sword resembled one forged from platinum, and the energy flowing along its blade was overwhelmingly powerful.
The secret behind the astonishing cutting power lay in the sword itself.
No matter how skilled Aslan’s technique might have been, it was impossible to slice through the scales with technique alone.
After completing the analysis, the Dragon King adjusted his stance, extending his uninjured hand forward to face the opponent. All he had to do was avoid contact with the blade.
Clang!
A rapid succession of slashes—vertical, horizontal, and diagonal—came like flowing water, yet none escaped the Dragon King’s sight. He swiftly swung his fist to bat the sword away.
He hammered the flat of the blade, pushing it aside. In the moment the blade’s direction twisted and threatened to graze his knuckles, he emitted a shockwave to halt it.
The cutting power was fearsome, but not something utterly terrifying.
He had faced countless foes wielding such means.
On the contrary, the Dragon King launched a counterattack. Using the recoil from pushing the blade away, he spun around and swung his fist. Aslan deflected the punch with the edge of his sword. Clang! Amidst the sparks, his vivid emerald eyes gleamed brightly.
It was a strange occurrence.
The Dragon King had never let his guard down throughout this battle.
He had never underestimated or spared any means.
Even a city cultivated for a thousand years would be worth less than his own life. The Dragon King used and burned everything without hesitation, sparing no expense on all available methods.
With the resolve that this was his final battle, he fought with all his might.
Just as he had prepared, it was truly an all-out fight.
Yet, despite all this, the Dragon King couldn’t kill Aslan. Every attack missed, every defense was broken. Each strike the Dragon King unleashed slashed futilely through empty air.
It wasn’t just in the fight. To kill Aslan, the Dragon King had prepared. Concerned that allies would pose a danger if they arrived, he sent priests to intercept them.
To prevent reinforcements from reaching, to ensure Aslan didn’t get the chance to kill him.
But despite all attempts, one person managed to reach here, breaking through the priest’s blockade and arriving at this spot.
Though unable to provide direct aid to Aslan, their mere presence unsettled the Dragon King.
The ground sinking under a breath attack was due to that disturbance. To isolate himself and Aslan, aiming to kill the most threatening Aslan first.
They sank to unfathomable depths where reinforcements couldn’t reach, engaging in a final showdown.
This was his last gamble.
If only he could kill when reinforcements couldn’t reach, that would suffice.
And yet, he couldn’t kill. Despite exchanging countless blows, Aslan remained alive.
You could tell just by looking into those eyes. Aslan was still alive.
“This is strange. This isn’t normal.”
The Dragon King thought. There was a clear disparity in strength, yet he couldn’t bring himself to kill Aslan—it was undoubtedly abnormal.
Every time the Dragon King thought he had an opportunity, Aslan narrowly avoided the fatal line and survived.
When it came down to the final move, the decisive blow he carefully delivered was intercepted by an ancient deity.
As a result, Aslan was alive again, fighting with even greater ferocity.
The slashing sword strikes grew more intense and powerful. Amidst the swirling white light, only Aslan’s eyes burned brightly.
Attempting to block the moment the sword was thrust vertically, grazing the scales, and being swept away by the shockwave, he spun around and pressed forward in the opposite direction. The shockwave-enhanced sword strikes were incredibly fast.
Despite the gushing blood from his wrist and arm, Aslan did not stop.
A slight miracle.
A fleeting awakening.
Only through that did Aslan evade death and continue running towards life.
Thus, he resisted.
The Dragon King couldn’t comprehend this point.
This battle should have been between the predator and the gods of fire and metal, the ancient deities, and their rematch.
The Dragon King should have overwhelmingly won this fight.
The disparity in strength was clear. The difference in experience was immense. Even though there might have been some technical differences, given the massive gap in scale, it shouldn’t have mattered.
Without letting his guard down or conserving his strength,
Clang, crunch!
Even while giving it his all, the Dragon King was being pushed back. With every bit of dying effort, Aslan was gradually advancing.
“How can the result differ so much?”
Swinging his palm, the sword blade met his palm. At that moment, Aslan’s body, propelled by the repelling force, spun violently.
The spin contained a fatal strike, and the strike immediately severed a wing.
Crack!
The severed wing. Unconsciously, the Dragon King’s gaze was drawn to it.
A wing entirely raw, covered neither by thick scales nor hiding any special functions.
Following the bleeding wing, the Dragon King’s vision trembled.
Thus, he couldn’t block the next sword strike. Aslan, using the momentum of his swing, released the sword, caught it with the other hand, and delivered a diagonal upward slash from a low stance.
Crack!
Splitting the scales and carving through the shoulder, pure force tore out the wing. The white light split the dark scales and roared.
Seeing the platinum sword, the Dragon King thought:
Father, God of Fire and Metal, have you truly abandoned me, your son, for this very moment, for Aslan?
Boom!
Thinking this, he threw a punch. The thrown punch connected with the sword tip, twisted, and he followed with a spinning kick. Barely evading the kick, Aslan grazed his leg. Scales scattered, and his ankle was shredded.
The Dragon King felt the unavoidable approach of death.
Facing that death, he saw a long, fleeting lifetime pass before his eyes. His body continued to move and fight, but the memories clouded his vision.
The Dragon King was the first Dragon King.
A thousand years ago, he was the king born from the remaining divine power of the tyrant dragon.
Even though created from the remnants of divine power, he was acknowledged by all as the Dragon King and the son of the deity.
The true heart of the dragon.
There was a problem with that.
The ancient deity had long since been defeated.
The Dragon King was the son of one of the defeated ones, and his father, the tyrant dragon, had died helplessly.
That was the problem.
The newly born Dragon King ruled naturally as king and encountered Geladridion, thinking:
My father was merely a loser.
And I am the king of those who serve a loser.
That the Dragon King served the predator was no accident.
Its overwhelming strength.
The overwhelming power that silenced his father, the tyrant dragon, with just one move, captivated him.
And yet, its rational nature allowed communication.
The ability to strengthen according to how much the servant consumed and modified, depending on the servant’s efforts.
The Dragon King, destined to be a loser, was drawn to this and eventually came to think:
Rather than leading the losers and continuing a battle already lost once, it would be better to start anew on the side of the victors.
Thus, he became both a priest and the Dragon King.
He devoured the next Dragon King candidate who came for the throne, disguising himself as the successor.
For over a thousand years, he lived while repeatedly enhancing his body.
At first, he worried and hoped that his father might punish him for continuing such blasphemous acts, but nothing happened.
Until now.
Clang, clang!
With half his palm cut off, he blindly pushed against the blade. Each push blocked cascading attacks with his legs and tail, creating distance by emitting breath.
Having seen numerous adversaries during his time as a priest and throughout his life, among them were those who uncovered his plots, and others who allied with different deities to oppose him as priests.
By silencing all of them, the Dragon King became certain:
Surviving and winning meant this path was right.
So the Dragon King never trained.
He only relied on shortcuts.
Never once in his life did he face adversity and death.
He never honed himself.
Even though unworthy as a son and having long abandoned the title of Dragon King, he couldn’t give up the wings symbolizing the Dragon King and the son of the tyrant dragon.
He couldn’t let go of his attachment.
The Dragon King was well aware of this fact.
He awkwardly abandoned and awkwardly took back.
Clang!
Only two fingers remained. As he fiercely swung his palm, the purity forcefully rebounded, and the Dragon King, whose body no longer required breathing, screamed while thrusting his claws.
The target was the neck. Now was the chance to strike where weapons couldn’t reach. Aslan blocked this critical move with labored breaths and a malfunctioning left arm.
Crack!
The left arm and claw collided, and the entire arm was severed, significantly slowing the claw’s speed. From nearly invisible to barely visible, through countless calculations, Aslan moved.
The shattered left arm rotated sideways. Harnessing the force from the broken left arm’s empty space, it spun. While spinning, he reversed his grip on the sword.
The moment the sword tip aimed for the chest, the Dragon King unconsciously held his breath. The purity had turned an impossibly bright white.
“Heart… pierce!”
The sound of metallic scales and muscles splitting. The sword strike accurately targeting the heart’s core paused upon precisely piercing the core.
The sensation of the core cracking. The Dragon King stopped dead in his tracks at that sensation, and Aslan, gripping the purity, gasped for breath as if about to die.
Perhaps meeting his end at the hands of someone who relentlessly honed himself to finally become a true master was inevitable.
The energy that had powered his entire body disappeared the moment the core cracked. Dropping his arms, the Dragon King bitterly smiled.
“…I will not apologize.”
There was no blood; he was the priest of the predator. Instead, the light flowing from where the core had been filled the void.
“I believed… I was right.”
The Dragon King raised his head. So high. A height where tying several ropes together would barely touch the ground.
Through the wide-open hole, the sky, beginning to darken, was visible.
Against the backdrop of the sky stood his father’s spine.
Fused tungsten fired by the predator to shatter that spine rested on the back.
“Just…”
Leaning his back against the cold metal, the Dragon King closed his eyes.
“I feared.”
Closing his eyes, he spoke.
“I couldn’t trust myself. I worried that everything I did might ultimately be useless. I was afraid that I’d break while hammering myself.”
Gurgling sounds accompanied Aslan’s gaze toward the Dragon King. Only a hazy light lingered in his eyes.
“To call myself the Dragon King… in a way, this is the natural outcome.”
The Dragon King opened his eyes and looked at Aslan. Their gazes met, holding different emotions.
“How could someone who flees in fear of death ever defeat someone who has transcended death?”
A bitter smile spread, and the Dragon King smirked lightly before closing his eyes again, never to open them.
“That’s… my failure.”
As the purity disappeared, leaving behind an empty hole, the Dragon King lowered his head.
“I’ve lost. Take it all… It’ll be useful.”
Acknowledging his defeat, the Dragon King’s body slowly collapsed. Kneeling, he laid his body on the ground.
His energy-depleted body gradually lost responsiveness, and his vision slowly faded. In that brief moment, the Dragon King looked at Aslan one last time.
Still standing, his gaze looking down at the Dragon King.
Eyes blurred yet still vividly green.
The Dragon King smiled one last time.
‘One thing I got right.’
He closed his eyes.
“Isn’t he clearly a great hero?”
With the Dragon King dead, Aslan gripped the hilt of the blood-stained sword that appeared where the purity had vanished, panting heavily.
Eventually, as Aslan’s body also fell to the ground, only the lava beneath the sunken earth restlessly roared.
