Chapter 332: Temptation
"Who are you?" Duke Leo suddenly shivered violently, whispering in his mind.
He had thought it was his own voice—but something was wrong. A chill crept down his spine. That voice… was not his.
"I am not important," came the low, resonant whisper. "What matters is the Red Dragon. He killed your cherished son. He destroyed your invincible army. And soon, he will annihilate the Home Clan—the very foundation of your nation."
"You were meant to be the natural leader of the Northern Regions. Your name should stand beside Lionheart King Rosel, and the bloodline of the Bosk Family should endure for generations."
"But now… the Red Dragon has taken it all."
"Surely… you do not wish to seek revenge?"
The voice returned, like a siren drawing him toward a bottomless abyss.
Leo’s heart froze with fear. He knew of countless entities capable of invading the mind—Mind Flayers, demons, devils, and other unknown horrors from beyond this world. No matter who or what it was, to a mortal like him, such power was utterly dangerous.
Then, a forgotten legend surfaced in his memory. They said deep within the Anstica Mountains dwelled a Demon of Revenge, a being that could grant unimaginable strength to those who sought vengeance—enabling them to tear their enemies limb from limb.
The voice spoke again.
"I will grant you strength. I will help you slay that evil dragon. You shall become Anzeta’s Savior. The true, the only king of the Northern Regions!"
"But…"
A thunderous Dragon Roar split the sky, shattering his thoughts.
Duke Leo lifted his head. Before him, the colossal Red Dragon ascended into the heavens, unleashing a torrent of fire that twisted the air, painting half the sky crimson—like the world itself was being consumed in flames.
The Ancient Silver Dragon summoned a dazzling spell shield, struggling to withstand the inferno.
Yes… kill it.
Such monsters should never have existed in this world.
Whether it was the Devil’s temptation or the power of a demon—any price was worth paying, as long as it meant eliminating the threat to the Bosk Duchy, preserving the millennia-old leadership of his clan.
Leo lowered his head, his bloodshot eyes now alight with a hatred long suppressed. A grim resolve hardened within him.
"I accept."
"Excellent."
The voice laughed—cold, mocking, filled with contempt.
"Gah—!"
A surge of chaotic, overwhelming power surged into Leo’s chest, as if a giant hand were twisting his organs. Pain flared, but it was insignificant compared to the intoxicating rush of strength flooding through him.
For the first time in his life, he felt truly powerful. His body hummed with vitality, overflowing with energy.
"But… I still need preparation."
Leo pulled out a crystal, flawless and radiant, pressing it to his lips. "The Great Dragon-Slaying Ritual is about to begin. The Crimson Blades—prepare yourselves."
A euphoric smile spread across the Duke’s face. In the depths of his pupils, a flash of emerald-green light flickered.
"You and your ancient, decaying order… will be torn apart!"
Kai Xiusu shattered through wave after wave of magical barriers, his massive claw lashing forward toward the Ancient Silver Dragon in midair.
But just as he reached for the silver scales, the dragon’s form dissolved into mist—yet moments before, it had been casting spells.
Kai Xiusu’s instincts flared. He twisted midair.
"Phantom Illusion?"
"Arrogant pup! When I fought the Ancient Red Dragon, you were still a speck in your mother’s womb!"
A roar echoed behind him. Transparent scales shimmered into existence.
The air trembled. From behind, the Silver Dragon’s true form erupted—massive, terrifying, its front claws wreathed in the crushing power of Bigby’s Crushing Hand and the Stone Fist Technique, slamming down with brutal force upon the Red Dragon’s body.
But in that instant, Kai Xiusu’s forelimb blurred—faster than sight.
Shua—
The claw, laced with an Anti-Magic Field, slashed across the Silver Dragon’s paw. Five deep, meter-long gashes tore through the once-perfect, silken membrane of the wing.
Boom!
The explosive force of the Nine-Ring Spell sent Kai Xiusu flying backward.
Red scales, shattered and broken, rained from the sky.
With another deafening crash, the Red Dragon’s immense form slammed into the mountain, sending a storm of dust and debris into the air. The entire slope collapsed beneath him.
Yet moments later, the smoke cleared—and the Red Dragon reappeared, towering once more.
"An old fool, still playing tricks," Kai Xiusu scoffed, shaking off the impact. Golden flames roared around his body as his wounds sealed at a visible, rapid pace. His pale golden eyes locked onto the Silver Dragon in the sky.
"One thousand years old… and still resorting to minor tricks?"
"Come. Face me directly!"
He roared into the sky, provoking, challenging.
Even without half his magical equipment, this Ancient Silver Dragon remained a master of combat—his experience and spellcraft unrivaled. Centuries of war had honed him to perfection.
His arsenal of spells was endless—each one more cunning than the last. Kai Xiusu found himself constantly on edge, barely avoiding traps, only to be met with a barrage of devastating magic.
"Brutish barbarian!"
"I will show you what true order means!"
Oszedro flapped his wings in midair, but his left wing was torn, his body flickering in and out of visibility, scarred and battered. Though his words were bold, his face was grim. The silver eyes, like polished water, brimmed with genuine terror.
He was certain now—this Red Dragon possessed the potential to become an Ancestral Dragon. Perhaps even more.
The Red Dragon’s magical essence was extraordinary. Ordinary spells had no effect—could not even scratch his scales. Only spells of seventh level or higher could make a dent.
His vitality was beyond belief. Even after taking a direct hit from the Nine-Ring Spell, he recovered at an impossible speed. Beneath that monstrous form, it was as if a limitless magic reactor burned—forever churning, never tiring.
The only flaw the Ancient Silver Dragon could perceive was in the Red Dragon’s spellcasting ability.
But even so, with his Supernatural Charisma, his overwhelming bloodline essence, and the ancient dragon magic inherited from his lineage, the Red Dragon’s spellcasting prowess rivaled that of a Legendary Sorcerer.
And that spell—Magic Wastage, resembling the Great Disintegration Spell—had nearly broken him.
The mist of battle had finally thinned.
On the battlefield, tens of thousands watched in stunned silence as the two dragons—red and silver—faced each other once more, standing atop a landscape utterly transformed.
The wasteland was gone. In its place stood a surreal, shattered realm: meteor fragments littered the ground, molten lava had cooled and cracked, rivers of magma oozed slowly across the earth, and glaciers melted under the relentless heat—all mingling in chaotic, otherworldly beauty.
(End of Chapter)
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