——Defeat me?
——Defeat me who has gathered the seven fragments and returned to the original state?
——Defeat me whom even Roland is helpless against?
——Is his brain flooded? What's stuffed under his skull?
——I clearly have already won.
The guided rocket's explosion caused no harm to the seven-headed Dragon, bearing no physical damage capability yet leaving it inexplicably puzzled.
When you're savoring the taste of victory in an exalted state suddenly challenged by a very weak individual, the reaction at such a time leans more towards extreme confusion rather than mockery.
"What did you just say?"
One of the Dragon's heads turned to the side, eyes fixed on the iron swarm and the young man standing on the back of one of the steel bees.
That was Salamanda III, and Marseille.
Staring down from below with cold eyes, penetrating through the viscera, the blood and breath seemed to freeze under the gaze, causing Marseille, wrapped in a fur coat, to shiver.
