Guh guh guh guh guh guh guh!
This time, it’s definitely pain. Purity connects even with the deity.
The Poison-Spitting Dragon realized this fact. Its head whipped around, and a fiery chill ran down Aslan’s spine.
He didn’t even turn his head. But he could feel it—the pungent smell filling his nostrils.
Instinctively, Aslan cried out.
“Lewena!”
In the shadow-draped darkness, Lewena’s silhouette sprang up along with a faint sound. The Abyss stood like a wall blocking their path.
Above it came the symbolic strike of the Poison-Spitting Dragon—a breath attack.
From the crocodile-like dragon’s mouth spewed poison that collided with the black barrier.
A thunderous sound echoed as Aslan looked up to see the wall stained black.
Everything had gone according to Aslan’s calculations until now.
“Eep?!”
What he hadn’t anticipated was the power of the breath.
Its force far exceeded Aslan’s expectations.
Lewena groaned, and the Abyss shattered.
Creak, creak!
The fractured shadow broke apart. The Abyssal Blade vibrated. Aslan saw the poison rushing toward him.
Touching it would dissolve existence itself. Souls would perish instantly.
‘Mooncutting.’
So, it must not touch. Faster than the incoming poison, a crescent slash surged upward from below.
Crack crack crack!
The poison breath, which felt like a solid mass, split and scattered. Accelerating with momentum, Aslan dashed forward.
If he didn’t evade, he’d die. He couldn’t keep blocking this forever. Even a single drop touching his skin would kill him.
When instinct confirmed death, Aslan inhaled deeply, wrapped himself in acceleration and the winds of hell, and fled forward.
The trajectory of his evasion. A long streak of death pursued him, and the dragon turned its head.
Rrrrrrrr!
Everything in the path of the breath disintegrated. The persistent stream scorched the ground, melted it, and made it vanish.
The surface sank into a dead, pitch-black void as if light itself had been crushed. Aslan kept running.
In an instant, he traversed half the city, leaving behind a trail of melting streets.
Aslan, feeling the breath chasing after him, thought.
Purity nullified all negative influences and damage from the environment—thanks to the touch of the night.
Thus, while the areas touched by the breath were generally extremely hazardous, Aslan, wielding purity, could pass through them unharmed.
The problem was getting hit directly.
Even Aslan would be in danger if struck directly.
And aside from individuals like Phey or Ereta, anyone else who came into contact with the poison would be at risk.
Therefore, allowing the breath to continue firing wasn’t an option.
But how could they stop it?
They wouldn’t last a moment against a direct confrontation.
While Aslan was deep in thought, leaping over a building and onto the top of a tower—
Whoosh, BOOM!
The breath aimed at Aslan suddenly cut off.
Something had intercepted it.
Not only did it cut it off—it exploded, incinerating it.
Rising was a white flame.
Whatever had cut off the breath swept the flames back before retreating in a spiral motion.
It was a pair of battleaxes.
The thrown axes returned swiftly to their owner’s hands.
Sizzle! The pale hand gripping the weapon flared brightly.
“Aslan!”
It was Ereta.
She shouted, then drew two short swords from her belt and hurled them with a sweeping motion.
Flying alongside were handaxes and hammers—her trusted weapons.
Wherever the weapons flew, the dragon’s poison disappeared, burning away into nothingness.
The poison vanished. They could charge again. The Watchers and the traveling party moved simultaneously.
Although the enemy was still massive and its powerful means remained effective, they could fight.
“HAHHH!”
First to arrive was Lumel. She surrounded herself with lightning and shot forward, stabbing with her spear.
KRAAAKK, ZZZZT!
Thunder roared, and arcs of electricity danced in a circular pattern centered on her ankles.
Dozens of stabs seemed to pierce through, and blood gushed forth from the ankle.
Next came Phey. Spinning and accelerating, Phey slashed at the ankle like a crimson bolt of lightning.
With a deep intake of breath, the Elven Girl unleashed her stored air, swinging her greatsword and shortsword at incomprehensible speeds, mauling the ankle.
The sounds of blades piercing flesh and slicing through muscle reverberated briefly as the Elven Girl leaped away from the counterattack.
BOOOOOM!
Dust erupted. The bloodied Elven Girl grinned wickedly as she kicked off into the air to escape.
The dragon swung its forelimb to catch her, but it only sliced through empty air.
While the dragon focused on Phey, the Watchers charged in unison.
A Watcher skilled in both swordplay and transformation magic extended their blade to ten meters, thrusting it into the already weakened ankle, triggering more lightning.
An archer imbued their arrows with manifestation school magic to intercept the spewed poison.
In midair, the poison met bolts of lightning, ice, and fire, erupting into flames.
When the poison dissipated, a martial artist trained in combat and manifestation school magic threw a fist wreathed in fire.
KA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-BOOM!
Amidst the deafening roar, multiple fists appeared, hammering against the dragon’s scales. The watchers followed closely, drawn by the burning scent.
The dagger of a Green assassin trained in stealth and illusions tore through the scales.
A woman skilled in both spear techniques and variation school magic used precise yet cautious spear strikes to tear off reinforced scales with monstrous strength.
An elderly practitioner of restoration magic wielded blunt weapons, protecting the group with shield and mace.
One handled both sword and illusion, another combined spears with restoration magic, and a mute master of archery and variation school magic armed with a dragon-slaying bow followed up with attacks.
A Green warrior enhanced by variation school magic joined Richard in battering the dragon’s scales.
All these elite warriors moved in near-perfect synchronization.
Their combined assault left the dragon’s ankle, already halfway severed, even more tattered within six seconds.
Between the flowing blood, Tiamat’s arrow approached late but swift.
The arrow pierced past the martial artist’s side and lodged into the dragon’s ankle.
When the deeply embedded arrow split the scales and reached the bone—
“Huuuuh!”
Resham lunged forth, slashing at the ankle and tearing the remaining half apart with a motion akin to ripping the arrow out.
Skin, scales, and flesh tore apart.
Only the bone remained.
The dragon’s roar of agony and fury echoed across the battlefield.
By now, the Supernatural Tiger had leapt onto the dragon’s body, biting and clawing at the flesh.
As Aslan, empowered by acceleration and the winds of hell, continued tearing away the scales with purity—
The Poison-Spitting Dragon knew exactly which target to eliminate first.
The painful roar ceased. A piercing sound approached.
Swinging was its tail, aiming to sweep away the Watchers and the traveling party.
At first glance, it seemed like the worst possible scenario—but Angie stepped forward as if waiting for this moment.
Ereta and Richard followed close behind.
“HUUUURRRRAAAAAAH!”
Angie swung her Victory sword high and brought it down with tremendous force.
KWAAAAAAAAAAAANG!
With enough power to shatter mountains, she slowed the tail’s movement. However, the tail pushed her back upon contact, lifting her off her feet.
The tail didn’t stop. Ereta darted forward and swung her axe wreathed in white flame.
“KRUUUUU…!”
Ereta converted all her divine power into raw strength in that instant, barely managing to slow the tail further—visibly this time.
Now it was Richard’s turn. Despite his blood-soaked hands, Richard activated his tattoos and charged forward.
“HAAAT!”
With a yell, he caught the tail sideways with his wrist, redirected it, and slammed it down with his elbow, stopping it completely.
The tail was caught.
“Now!”
Richard shouted as the dragon lowered its body to retrieve its tail.
“Not so fast, you little brat!”
Angie swore and slammed her Victory sword down, followed by Ereta striking with her flaming axe, immobilizing the tail.
The pause lasted only a fleeting moment.
But the Watchers and veterans were beyond elite.
Even a fleeting moment was enough for them.
Countless humans rushed forward together, each preparing their ultimate techniques.
Aslan was among them. Collaborating with the Supernatural Tiger, he climbed the dragon’s body, cutting as he went, then leaped to strike at the lowered neck.
In desperation, the dragon lifted its leg high.
The roar ceased.
No one was in the path of the descending leg. Its thrashing was meaningless.
Caught up in the heat of battle, neither the traveling party nor the Watchers noticed.
Survival instincts honed over countless battles alone allowed Aslan to detect the warning signs.
The Poison-Spitting Dragon’s four eyes on one side of its face simultaneously narrowed in what resembled a smirk.
A chill ran down Aslan’s spine. The leg descended.
BOOM.
The sound was surprisingly soft. Almost too soft.
Yet shockwaves radiated outward from where the leg landed.
In an instant too brief to measure, the shockwave spread in a perfect circle, covering the ground.
Crackle…
The ground began to melt, turning to powder.
In an instant, the very foundation supporting the entire city turned to dust and vanished.
Both Ereta and Aslan recognized it.
This was the power of a giant capable of pulverizing the earth.
The power to reduce land to dust and ash.
A power once stolen through judgment but recreated here using ‘subtlety.’
Seeing this, Aslan’s survival instincts reminded him that the dragon had emerged from the sewers.
The sewers—the network beneath the city.
Then…
“An—”
Before Aslan could shout, the ground turned to powder, and most of the Watchers and the traveling party floated momentarily in the air.
And then they plummeted.
It was a trap.
Everyone realized it.
There was no need to look around; the sewers were approaching.
The sewers were now glowing with the dragon’s poison, filled to the brim.
KWAHHHHH!
The tail broke free. The Poison-Spitting Dragon’s tail hurled Angie away, dragging Ereta in a different direction.
The rest of the group—Tiamat, Richard, and all the Watchers—plummeted toward the poison.
A clever trap. The dragon endured its own wounds like a cunning hunter.
Seeing this, Aslan recalled.
The Three Evils are weak deities that require three combined to barely match other evil gods.
But they possessed human-level intelligence and rationality due to their relative weakness.
Naturally, they also held human-like malice and cunning.
This trap was proof of that.
“Jaaang—!”
Using mastery to fly, he tried to rescue as many as possible.
But it was too late. Saving everyone was impossible.
Since the dragon’s massive body would scatter poison around when it landed, saving even himself might be uncertain.
Phey and Lumel were too far away. Beasts cannot fly.
Just as everyone was helpless—
At the brink of life and death, only those standing at the crossroads could act.
A Watcher who had mastered blunt weapons and transformation magic to their limits.
Green, 189 years old.
Looking at the approaching surface of the poison, he realized he would die the moment he touched it.
Every human stands at a crossroads of choice.
And the true nature of humanity is revealed only in the final moment of decision.
Slaves submit, but humans choose.
Living means being bound by choices.
Only those called warriors or champions can make choices beyond life.
Having fought for 180 years,
Old man Kuolem began fighting at the age of nine.
Ever since his family was killed by bandits, he had swung his hammer without rest.
He was the longest-serving Watcher.
Older even than Resham.
Thus, he realized this was his final crossroads.
His nature presented him with two paths:
To sacrifice himself, save more lives, and contribute to victory.
Or to survive without sacrificing, accepting defeat but perhaps living if luck was on his side.
The warrior’s instinct and the will to survive.
The warrior’s instinct drives toward victory, while the will to survive whispers of survival.
The memory of his wife, lost to a priest, surfaced in his mind.
In the fragmented flashbacks of his life, the old veteran hesitated for a moment.
Then he chose.
Thus, his hands moved reflexively.
His body, honed for 189 years, traced the most efficient trajectory in response to that reflex.
Pouring all his remaining mana into enlarging the hammer.
The hammer wouldn’t last long against the poison upon contact.
So he created a stepping stone with one leap.
A stepping stone usable by everyone except himself.
He swung the hammer, preventing the dragon from splashing in the pool of poison. When the dragon flinched, he laid the hammer flat.
Confused allies and Aslan’s group noticed his intent but were taken aback. He laid the hammer flat and released it.
He fell into the poison that could kill even souls.
Even in the instant after making his choice, he screamed horribly, regretted, and cursed.
He cursed every surviving comrade.
His lower body dissolved in an instant. It melted as soon as he entered.
Life ended as he melted.
His head dissolved in less than a second.
The scream lingered.
His history, time, training, purpose, and will melted away.
As Aslan’s group and the Watchers jumped off the stepping stone to safety, he continued to dissolve.
It was a horrifying scream.
Those who survived would never forget it.
But even if they regretted, cursed, and hated—
Facing the final moment and making a choice is the essence of being human.
And Kuolem was a warrior.
Gurgle… Completely dissolved, his body disappeared, leaving behind bubbling foam.
For 180 years, he was a warrior who couldn’t look away from victory.
KWAHHHHH!
As the dragon landed on the poison, it sprayed everywhere, dissolving the area where the group had been moments before.
Among the scattered poison, the dragon closed its eyes and smiled mockingly.
The deity reveled in the futile death.
