Michiru looked like she'd just had an epiphany—but the worry on her face remained.
Rei Ao said gently, "I think it's been a long time since Kanna really stretched her limbs. This is a good chance for her to move around a bit—let her go have some fun. Don't worry, I'm here."
His words carried an absolute confidence that put people at ease.
Michiru glanced at Rei Ao's calm smile, then at Kanna's eyes—bright with anticipation and fighting spirit. It was obvious Kanna truly wanted to jump in.
She hesitated for a moment, then, with some difficulty, nodded her agreement.
Crouching down, she earnestly reminded Kanna, "Then be careful. If you can't win, run straight back—absolutely, absolutely no getting hurt, okay?"
"Mhm! Got it!"
Kanna nodded obediently—but the fire of battle in her eyes was already blazing.
The next second, under Couronne's stunned gaze, Kanna let go of Michiru's hand and took two quick steps forward. Dazzling white light burst over her body. Within that glow, her form swelled and reshaped at frightening speed!
An ancient, vast, imperious aura exploded outward, flooding the entire barrier—and for a moment, it even smothered the energy waves pouring off the three titans clashing in the sky.
"Rooooar!"
A dragon's cry shook the heavens.
When the light cleared, the small, adorable girl was gone. In her place loomed a colossal silver-white dragon, big enough to blot out the sky. A sleek, beautiful body was clad in gleaming white, metal-sheen scales. Enormous wings spread, casting a broad shadow. Pure battle lust burned in those ice-blue dragon eyes.
Kanna's full dragon form—on the field!
The white dragon beat her wings, whipping up a fierce gale—then launched straight up, charging for the battlefield in the sky with unstoppable momentum.
—
High above, Azril's mood was anything but calm, whatever her face showed. The longer she fought, the more alarmed she became.
Jibril's growth far exceeded her expectations. Mana reserves, spell potency, sense of timing—she was leagues stronger than when she'd left Avant Heim. It made no sense. How could Jibril-chan change this much in so short a time?
Worse was that Ex-Machina. Just an Ex-Machina—yet its computational power, energy output, and those eerie, multi-layered compound attacks were causing real trouble even for her, a primordial individual. Time and again she had to handle the tight, coordinated pincer of Jibril and Shuvi together.
She—Speaker of the Flügel, first creation of the War God Artosh—was being gradually forced onto the back foot in a two-on-one? The pride born of her race and station reeled in shock and disgust.
Unforgivable.
A hard light flashed in Azril's eyes. The halo above her head spun even faster, a greater power gathering. Her pride would not allow defeat. She was ready to unleash something stronger at any cost—even if it irreparably damaged this spatial barrier—subdue that metal lump first, then take Jibril-chan.
But the instant she moved to strike, Jibril and Shuvi abruptly fell back in unison, attacks ceasing as they shifted into wary defensive stances.
Huh?
Azril blinked, her assault faltering for a beat.
And then—
Whoooom!
A gale of feral aura slammed in from the flank.
"—!"
Azril's heart jolted; she whipped her head around. A massive, all-white dragon, radiating a pulse of power that made the heart quail, hovered before her, wings thrumming. Those vast ice-blue eyes stared straight at her without blinking.
"Dragonia?!"
Azril's pupils shrank; her expression turned grave, her posture instinctively more guarded. The vast energy she'd meant to hurl at Jibril quietly swung to track this newly arrived, extremely high-threat target.
There was no doubt—Azril had taken Kanna for one of this world's top races: the Dragonia.
Her wariness was well-founded. The Dragonia themselves embodied absolute might and mystery. In the ranking of the Sixteen Races, Dragonia sit at fourth—behind the Old Deus, the Phantasma, and the Elves—comfortably above the sixth-ranked Flügel.
The Dragon Tongue commands creation itself; words become law, bordering on the power of rules. Their scales hold despair-inducing quantities of spirit energy. And for their unique nature as "multiversal lifeforms," they are notoriously hard to truly kill.
Usually, to bring down a single Dragonia, you'd send a tactical unit of fifty or more Flügel and still pay a price for victory.
But Azril was different.
A primordial god-slaying weapon, she knew the Dragonia's strength—and, more importantly, how to kill them. A Dragonia's essence is a "vessel" that contains a special spacetime; its power comes from the resonance of past, present, and future. But if you can force even the tiniest crack in that vessel and inject a thread of foreign power, the Dragonia will self-annihilate under its own infinite internal resonance.
Simple in theory—nearly impossible in practice, against that impregnable defense and terrifying might.
Azril focused completely, every sense locked onto the "Dragonia" before her, judging it more dangerous than Jibril and Shuvi combined. Coldly, she spoke: "Dragonia… why meddle in matters internal to the Flügel?"
Her voice was all threat and caution.
"Dragonia?"
The white dragon—Kanna—tilted her massive head, as if she didn't quite follow. To her, the winged one before her just looked strong—and fun to fight.
So her answer to Azril was—
A deep breath.
Vast magic gathered in her throat; the very temperature of the air seemed to freeze.
The next instant—
Crackle—!
A terrifying draconic breath, laden with raging lightning, erupted from her jaws like a burst dam and roared straight for Azril!