The Poison-Spitting Dragon roared.
With a faint sense of fear and pain, it felt the loss as the divine power it had painstakingly accumulated vanished in an instant.
The roar stretched long, filling the space with bitter weeping.
The surroundings trembled at the roar, and the undulating poison swamp surged and scattered.
Touch it, and you die. That fact remained unchanged.
Due to its overwhelming power and weight, every attack was as deadly as a decisive blow.
It, too, remained unchanged.
Though it had become a monster, the once-Evil Deity, now an Evil Dragon, was still terrifyingly strong.
Yet, the appearance of those who opposed it also remained unchanged.
Raising their weapons high, lowering their stances, and appearing as though they might collapse at any moment from exhaustion.
They charged toward the monster.
Kaaahhhhhhhh!
The dragon roared as it faced the humans. The attack it unleashed was not much different from the strikes it had delivered moments before.
Twisting its body to lash out its tail, swinging its forelimbs, biting with its massive maw, and crushing with its body.
Though its attacks were brutally simple, they carried a technique honed through countless repetitions across untold universes.
Thus, they were powerful. A direct hit would kill, and even a glancing blow would at least leave its victim a quadriplegic.
Unless the one deflecting it was Richard.
Opening its mouth wide, it exhaled and roared. Its weary limbs barely moved, fatigue and pain eating away at its body.
Would it be able to execute its technique properly? Was it truly capable of pulling this off?
A momentary wave of anxiety gnawed at its mind. But Richard, as if shaking it off, stomped the ground with force.
Kwaaaaaaaang!
A dust cloud erupted. Cutting through it, the dragon’s tail lashed out.
Its tip was sharpened, a blow meant to pierce a human with ease.
Hit, and you die. In fact, you wouldn’t even see it coming.
But it wasn’t necessary to block or strike only what was visible.
He was Geladrion’s Best Fighter.
He could deflect even what was unseen.
Thud crack, the rising dust cloud split, and the tail charged forward faster than the split itself.
Still, it was unseen. But his trained body moved.
Kung!
Extending his knee, he thrust with his elbow. Beyond his obscured vision, death raced toward him.
It reached his elbow.
If he didn’t move, his arm would be mangled at the elbow.
Even if he moved, the tail would slice through his waist.
So, he deflected it.
Yielding to the force without resistance.
Twisting his body around his elbow. Relaxation and release, tension and rigidity.
A perfectly harmonized motion. From the tips of his toes to his neck, he used every ounce of relaxation and tension, and the tail slipped past as if it had never touched Richard.
Kwaaaaaaaaaaang!
But it didn’t end there. Richard twisted his body and slammed his clenched fist down.
The ground caved in, and the tail was severed as it was driven into the floor.
As panic and pain rose in the dragon’s eyes, Richard shouted.
“Now!”
As he shouted, something flew through the dust cloud. The dragon’s forelimb. A sharp strike aimed at the moment after the deflection.
It was an attack from the monster that instinctively grasped the opening in the first-rate fighter’s defense.
The charging forelimb. Richard had no time to deflect, but he didn’t retreat.
He trusted his comrades.
Kwaaaaaaaaaang!
His comrades repaid that trust faithfully.
Kohhhhhhhh!
A ferocious roar. Within that roar was pain.
As proof of that pain, two spears lodged in its flank burst into lightning.
Golden and azure lightning.
That lightning spiraled.
Spiral Spear.
Thor Mull’s ultimate technique, now refined anew in Lumel’s hands.
The opposing rotations dug into the forelimb.
Kwa-dddddddddd!
The forelimb was torn open, blood scattered, and chunks of flesh fell.
Amid the falling flesh, a human figure leaped out.
The dragon intended to bite and kill that person to instill fear.
“Dieeeee!”
But that person was no ordinary human.
Screaming, they swung a greatsword with all their might.
The speed of that greatsword surpassed the dragon’s.
Beyond the fluttering crimson hair, the blade, resembling flames, slammed into the dragon’s lower jaw.
Kwa-uoooooong!
A shockwave spread in a circle, flesh and scales scattering as the dragon’s body flipped over.
Kreeeeeeaaaaah!
The dragon let out a painful roar.
But there was no longer any poison in its roar. It didn’t even spew its breath.
The already scattered poison was burned away by white flames.
Thus, they were equal. It could be killed.
The words of the ancient deity, knowing this fact, rang out.
“Push forward!”
With those words, the finely scattered dust cloud was split by people.
A human woman with a bow and an arrow crafted with magic, and a woman wielding a greatsword.
Along with a green figure, who was mute or had their mouth covered, holding a dragon-slaying cannon.
The remaining three watchers, knowing full well they could die, also leaped forward.
Likewise, those gathered under the impossible feat of saving the world also stepped forward.
Kagakakaak!
Scattering blood-red hair, the elven girl spun, slicing through flesh.
The fluttering blood only made her redder, but the elven girl repeated her ferocious strikes with an expressionless face.
Jumping up to slash, accelerating to slash, spinning to slash, stabbing and tearing out as she withdrew her blade.
Amid the repeated slashes, the dragon tried to crush the girl with its forelimb.
“Over there…!”
A red dragonkin, incongruously large, stripped of his upper garment, aimed his bow.
Lifting the bow as if pushing away a mountain, he drew the string.
The drawn string let out a faint groan, and he pulled it until the bow bent greatly, then swallowed his breath.
What resided within was the power of a deity, and what he aimed at was a monster that was once a god.
He raised the bow to protect his newfound family.
Kwa-rrrrrrrr!
‘Mountain Shatterer.’
The arrow, propelled by thunder, a strike that could shatter a mountain, slammed into the forelimb.
The wind followed the arrow, and as the dust cloud parted, the arrow pierced the forelimb.
Kwa-jjjjjiiiick!
The area already torn open by Lumel’s Spiral Spear. The precise shot tore through the center of the wound, and the forelimb was severed.
As the dragon’s forelimb collapsed to the ground, a roar escaped.
It was a roar filled with a sense of loss.
At this rate, it would die. The dragon shuddered with a sense of crisis it hadn’t felt in a long time and struggled.
It thrashed its body as if in a desperate struggle. Using the strength of its hind legs, it writhed, twisting its body, wildly swinging its tail.
Stomping the severed forelimb into the ground, it swept the floor.
“Grrrrrrugh!”
People were sent flying, collapsing.
Yet, they didn’t retreat. Spitting blood, being dragged across the floor and bleeding.
They picked up their weapons again and charged at the dragon.
At that sight, the monster that was once a god narrowed its eyes.
The will of the monster, having lost its divinity, could not change the world, and there was no way to read that will in its eyes anymore.
But everyone present could see it.
The dragon was afraid of them.
The monster was afraid of humans.
Kohhhhhhhhhhh!
On the sticky ground, reduced in strength and size, and with blood flowing freely, the dragon roared, denying that fear.
Against that desperate struggle, the party and the watchers also struggled.
No matter how weakened, the opponent was a monster that was once a god.
Even without its divine power, it was still no easy opponent.
Thus, the battle did not end easily.
An axe severed flesh.
A forelimb sent people flying.
A sword cut bone.
A tail struck a flank, sending it tumbling to the floor.
Fists, bows, spears, and blades stripped the dragon’s scales and tore its flesh.
The dragon swung its tail, slashed with its forelimbs, bit with its maw, and slammed with its body.
Kwaaaaaaaaaang!
“Guhhh…!”
At the end, Richard was struck by the dragon’s tail and sent flying far away.
Simultaneously, silence fell.
The underground, once the sewers of the magical city of Lessda, temporarily the nest of the Poison-Spitting Dragon and the poison swamp.
What remained was the blood scattered in all directions and the humans who had been flung into every corner.
Their battered, torn bodies, exhausted.
At their center lay a dragon.
Kreeeeeeeeee…
Panting, with blood pouring from its entire body.
Even as a monster that was once a god, it couldn’t subdue them without injury.
If they were given time to recover, the outcome would be uncertain.
Having completely lost its divinity, it had no guarantee of certain victory against them.
Thus, with its exhausted, dying body, it chose a last resort.
Opening its crocodile-like maw, it spewed poison.
Though it would be affected by its own poison due to the loss of its divinity, it endured, having resistance.
It would be gravely injured, but it would certainly kill them here and now.
The once-deity, now a beast, thought so and exhaled its breath.
Kwa-rrrrrrr, Thoo-waaaaack!
The poison swirling in its mouth spewed forth violently, shooting out at high speed, leaving a long trail.
Its target was Aslan.
The lord of the abyss, who had already severed the dragon’s divinity.
This time, even the abyss wouldn’t be able to stop it. The dragon thought so in that instant.
Shweeeeeek!
Something flew in and blocked the poison.
And in the moment it blocked, it burst forth with white flames.
The poison burned.
Burning, it turned into a acrid poison mist.
A white flame burning the poison, at its center was a double-edged axe.
Having no strength to return to its owner, the axe fell to the ground, and the dragon turned its head to see its prey.
Ereta, the prey it had to eat to regain even a fragment of its divinity.
She grinned, then slumped to the ground in the same posture she had thrown the axe.
Thus, the silence was broken.
What followed was unease.
The dragon rolled its four eyes and looked ahead to see a man.
Walking forward, cutting through the acrid poison mist.
Though the floor was sticky with flowing blood, and he was worn out and haggard.
Still, the man stood firm.
As if even standing properly was difficult, he swayed slightly after rising.
But he didn’t fall.
Aslan gripped his sword.
It was always humans who felled monsters.
Humans who did not yield to adversity, who did not retreat before sharp claws and strangling flames.
Only such humans had brought down monsters.
And today would be no different.
Aslan mustered every last drop of his strength and roared.
The long roar held no pain or unease.
As if emboldened by the roar, those who had fallen began to rise one by one.
Ereta, who had thrown her axe and collapsed from exhaustion.
Angie, whose arms had been crushed and collapsed.
Tiamat, who had been struck by scattered stones, and Phey, who had lost a leg.
Lumel, whose lightning had extinguished and who had ultimately been struck by the forelimb, and Richard, who had endured countless attacks alone.
Aslan’s party, as if familiar, rose steadfastly as if they just needed to endure a bit longer.
A watcher woman who had lost an arm, a human watcher whose bow was broken and had lost his means of attack, and a mute watcher who had lost an eye.
Drawn by the roar, they rose and gripped their weapons.
Gooooooooooh!
The dragon roared, and the purity Aslan held shone as a spirit took form.
Aslan placed his hand on the spirit and chanted.
“Let’s go.”
And countless people charged.
The swung forelimb and tail sent them flying, blood spewing from their mouths, and their injured organs made it feel as though their bodies could no longer move.
Yet, they didn’t stop, pouring everything they had.
Magic, martial arts, arrows, blades.
Until the dragon’s blood and the people’s blood mixed, and the ground turned red.
They die.
They would truly die.
Whether slashed, stabbed, or bitten.
They would not die but kept coming back.
The dragon felt fear.
To escape that fear, it raised its maw high.
To spew poison once more and melt the most irritating, Aslan.
To eat Aslan and regain a fragment of its divinity.
Kwa-rrrrrrrr!
Poison poured out. Straight toward Aslan, from too close to dodge.
There was no way to dodge. With acceleration turned off, Aslan had no mobility to evade the breath.
But he did not dodge. Aslan released the hand that held purity.
“Seize.”
The chanted words. Quickly, mana drained, and the final act was completed.
Jjeeeeong!
The purity that left Aslan’s hand moved on its own. A flood of white light, splitting the spewed poison.
As the split poison scattered, Aslan emerged from it and charged forward.
Mana was depleted. The sword fell. Aslan caught the falling purity.
And extinguished it.
What appeared was a greatsword.
A greatsword resembling some supreme beast, azure in color.
Aslan, before the dragon, gripped the greatsword.
[Remaining Will: 1]
A single will restored.
[Remaining Will: 0]
‘Mooncutting.’
Consuming it, he swung the gripped sword.
Tiyalmisof’s beast was the greatsword.
A weapon that, when wielded by the Executioner, seemed to extend nearly 5 meters in range.
Combined with Mooncutting, which increased the range.
But it didn’t end there. Aslan twisted his waist.
Starting from the tip of his toes.
Taking a step forward, he loaded centrifugal force.
Twisting his ankle, bracing with his calf, slightly bending his knee, and bracing with his thigh.
He repeated this across his entire body.
From the tips of his fingers, as if his whole body was a whip.
It was the technique of the Executioner, a once-great martial artist.
The longest slash a human could perform.
Neck Slash.
Combined with Mooncutting, the blade’s length reached 10 meters.
Kwa-jik!
It cleaved through scales. The swung blade, without the dragon being able to dodge or block, pierced its neck.
Opening its mouth, roaring, Aslan pushed the blade in.
Kwa-dddddddd!
Scales split, muscles split, blood vessels split, and blood poured out.
The dragon twisted its neck at the foreign sensation, and Aslan took another step and twisted the blade.
“Aaaaah!”
Kohhhhhhh!
The dragon’s roar and Aslan’s roar interlocked. The blade lodged in its neck bone.
Thud, the sensation of striking steel, and the hilt slipped from his hand.
Too much flowing blood made it slippery, and there was no grip left to hold.
The Poison-Spitting Dragon’s face momentarily filled with elation.
Finally, Aslan was also just a human. Having exhausted his strength, he couldn’t pursue any further.
It would escape now and seek another opportunity.
Then, the chance for vengeance would surely come.
As the dragon thought so and tried to turn its body.
Aslan drew a brass-colored blade from his waist.
The sword of some Imperial Sword Saint, whose name he could no longer remember.
The sword in Aslan’s hand and the dragon’s eyes met.
They were curved, mocking, turquoise eyes.
Kohhhhhhhh!
The dragon knew it couldn’t escape.
So, it roared and swung its tail.
Though severed, it was enough to kill a human.
As it charged, Aslan twisted his lips.
Mana was depleted. He couldn’t use acceleration.
The special trait was just used, its last use. He couldn’t endure another hour.
Stamina was also at its limit, and all abilities were almost entirely consumed.
But it didn’t matter.
Aslan was a combat master.
The most outstanding combatant in Geladrion.
Aslan still had techniques left.
Twelve years of training with Aslan, never leaving his side.
Techniques that had become part of Hyun-woo.
A leap reminiscent of a gymnast. Jumping up, he twisted his body, and the tail didn’t even graze him, slamming into the floor.
The swung tail passed without even a touch. Panicking, the dragon tried to retract its tail, but Aslan had already mounted it.
Swung, it paused momentarily.
Feeling an unfamiliar weight, the dragon realized and moved to respond.
He ran.
Across the dragon’s body, he ran.
Kohhhhhhhh!
The dragon knew what Aslan was aiming for and tried to roll its body.
It intended to kill Aslan by crushing him.
But even as the dragon tried to roll its body, Aslan had anticipated and moved.
He leaped first.
A brilliant leap, but insufficient to save his life.
Thus, in midair, he twisted his entire body, lingering momentarily.
The natural laws of the world hesitated to pull Aslan down, and he landed.
Kekakakak!
Landing, he swung the blade. Grazing scales, he slashed.
The Imperial Sword Saint’s blade in his hand shone ominously.
Kreeeeooooohhhh!
The dragon roared. A roar filled with anger, irritation, unease, and fear.
Aslan ran across the dragon’s body as he listened to the roar.
Slipping on blood, his legs giving out from fatigue.
With twelve years of experience and all he had endured in battle, he anticipated and predicted the movements of the Poison-Spitting Dragon.
His peak-level fortune affirmed his instincts.
Thus, his turquoise eyes burned.
With the special trait Unyielding, Aslan didn’t fall and kept running.
The Poison-Spitting Dragon, meeting those eyes, contorted its face in confusion and fear.
Raising its forelimb high. Twisting its body to thrust, even if it injured itself, it intended to crush.
Then, Aslan extended his hand.
“Flash.”
What he cast was a simple minor spell, not even a single strand of mana.
The Evocation School’s minor spell, Flash.
Paaat!
With a sound like a filament bursting, a bright light flooded.
A minor spell that could only blind.
The dragon’s eyes, facing it directly, were momentarily blinded.
Kwa oooooooh!
The dragon screamed. Unable to see, it thrashed its body to crush Aslan.
Aslan, even foreseeing that, twisted and leaped.
Leaping up, he aimed his hand downward.
Then, the tattoo, ‘Astrid’s Farewell,’ flashed blue.
Its effect was to let Aslan, in place of mastering magic, use five spells daily without cost, or consume mana to use them.
With his mana depleted, Aslan used five spells at once.
Four fireballs and one acceleration spell.
Kwaaaaaaaaaaaang!
A loud explosion, and four overlapping fireballs erupted above the massive body of the Poison-Spitting Dragon.
And propelled by the flames, Aslan flew up.
With acceleration and the winds of the afterlife on his body, and the blade in his hand.
The dragon, its belly pressed to the ground from the force.
It slowly regained the sight lost to the flash and raised its head.
Above it was Aslan, high in the air.
Holding the sword with both hands, he descended.
Reflexively, the dragon swung its forelimb, but.
Kwa-uoooooong!
The moment the forelimb touched Aslan’s form, it blurred and disappeared.
It was an illusion cast by the master of the Illusion School, used the instant the dragon regained its sight.
As the illusion of the Illusion School master faded, two beings locked eyes.
The dragon’s wide eyes filled with panic and the turquoise eyes.
The abyss sword overlayed the Imperial Sword Saint’s blade, extending.
What he cut was the neck. The neck already deeply embedded by Tiyalmisof’s beast.
As they met, the dragon realized death was approaching.
And that death fell like a guillotine.
Kohhhhhhhhhhhh!
The Poison-Spitting Dragon roared, filled with terror.
Aslan plunged in a straight line, like a streak of light, piercing the dragon’s neck.
Already slashed, half-severed neck.
The blade dug into it.
The neck muscles, hard as steel. Against the grain of those muscles, the blade dug in.
Reaching bone. Hard. But it could be cut.
Roaring, Aslan put all his strength into the firmly gripped hilt.
Kwa-ddddddd!
He cleaved through. The dragon’s neck was messily severed.
The blade exited, but the neck bone remained attached, split. A storm of blood erupted.
The hideously exposed neck bone. Aslan, before even landing, twisted his body, and swung the sword again.
Zzzt!
Adding rotation, he struck down.
The striking blade exited, and the severed neck bone couldn’t support the head, which tilted.
Koooooong!
The massive dragon’s head rolled on the ground, its eyes looking at Aslan.
Across countless universes, it had swallowed innumerable lives.
The Poison-Spitting Dragon.
Its eyes fogged with terror, and soon its eyes turned cloudy.
The Poison-Spitting Dragon was dead.
With the arrogant thought that everything was its own and that it was unjust for anything to be taken from it.
