Up above, the white dragon lowered its head slightly. It didn't gloat. It didn't grin. Its eyes just stared down at him, calm, unreadable, and distant. Like a parent watching a child throw a fit.
"…That's one hell of a defense spell," the man muttered, narrowing his eyes. He tried to stay calm, but a sliver of unease crept in.
Had he misjudged? Was this some kind of ancient dragon magic? But there had been no chanting. No signs.
He started going through every spell theory he knew. Normally, powerful spells needed time and incantations. Casting one without either meant the caster was either using a cheap shortcut version… or had achieved mastery so deep, they didn't need the rules anymore.
And that stare, it pissed him off.
What gives that beast the right to look down on me like that? One blocked hit and you think you're untouchable?
A cold smile spread across his face.
"Fine. Maybe your shell's tough. But that barrier can't be free. Let's see how long you can keep it running."
He vanished in a blur, flickering through the air as flame spells erupted all around him, raining down like a storm of molten meteors.
Thanks to the Blessing, he could cast mid-level spells near instantly, and even compress high-level incantations into a few short syllables. In a matter of seconds, the sky turned red.
A blazing inferno swallowed the white dragon.
A massive fireball bloomed around it, nearly a hundred meters wide, hovering in the air like a second sun. The heat spread across the land, cutting through the lingering chill from the earlier snowstorm. Below, the city simmered like it was mid-summer again.
Elara shielded her eyes atop the wall, squinting at the fiery mass in the sky. The heat pressed down on her like a physical weight.
People below froze, some in awe, some in despair.
"Dragon or not, there's no surviving that. Guess we just wait and see how long we've got left."
But the black-robed attacker?
He started to panic.
He'd thought the barrier might hold for a bit, but surely not forever. No defense could last against this kind of onslaught, not under this kind of heat and pressure.
Except… it was lasting.
Still holding. Still unmoved.
He gritted his teeth. If I really push it, I might break through, but the cost would be massive.
"I don't believe it… let's see just how long you can last!"
He cut the flames, slipping into stealth. Flames warped his outline as he circled the dragon like a predator, shaping the fire around him into a gnashing, fiery maw. The air shimmered as heat closed in from all directions, trying to trap the dragon in a death oven.
Then, finally, the dragon moved.Its front claw lifted just slightly.
Its head turned. And its gaze locked onto him through the flames.
"…!" His heart clenched.
Not because of pressure. Not magic. Not spirit. Something deeper, a sense of danger. A whisper of death brushed the back of his neck.
Like a cold fingers traced his spine. A certain death. He suddenly felt tiny, just another insect beneath a titan's heel.
Like the day the Great Lord had first cast him aside.
"How… what is this feeling!?"
He saw the dragon open its jaws. He braced for breath. But what came next wasn't fire or ice, It was wind.
"Guh…!"
"ROOOOOOAAAAARRRR, !!"
The roar tore through the sky like a meteor strike. The pressure wave alone shattered the flaming sphere overhead, scattering it like ash in a hurricane.
A thunderous boom followed, shaking the very foundations of the city. Buildings cracked.
A tall tower's top split in half and crashed to the street. Stone shattered. Wind gouged deep scars into the pavement.
On the wall, people were knocked flat. Ears ringing. Vision spinning.
As for the attacker, he staggered, bleeding from the mouth. His ears were blown out. His chest burned. And all he could do was stare.
"…That wasn't a spell… What the hell was that?"
It looked like a draconic wind attack. But there'd been no circle, no chant, no buildup. Just power, raw and unfiltered. And it had crushed the traps he'd laid.
What he didn't know?
It wasn't even an attack. It was just Belial venting pressure.
His flight wasn't powered by flapping wings, it came from manipulating gravity and wind fields. Unlike the original Space Godzilla, he didn't need brute force to fly. He'd built an aerodynamic membrane of pressure around his body to cut through air like a bullet.
When he released that pressure?
It was like popping the cap off a shaken soda bottle. And now, for the first time in his new life, he had a clear goal.
To kill. No holding back. No showy magic, just a punch.
Belial took flight. No atomic breath. No claws. Just one fist, one bigger than his opponent's entire body.
A pure, physical blow.
Simple? Maybe. But let's break it down.
A creature nearly 40 meters tall. Weighing tens of thousands of tons. Flying at Mach 2. And punching with all his strength.
Even in his original form, Space Godzilla could lift and throw kaiju like ragdolls, his raw strength hovering near a million tons. And this new form? It was better in every way.
That punch?
It wasn't just heavy, It was absolute. It's like Saitama punch.
No one could predict what would happen. But when that blow landed,
The air exploded. A deafening, bone-shaking boom echoed across the land. Everyone in the city looked up, instincts kicking in.
In Belial's hand?
There was nothing left. Only scraps. His enemy had been turned into pulp.
And yet…
His system progress bar didn't move.
"The progress bar's stuck."
Belial glanced at the mental display in his head. No change. Still not moving.
The enemy didn't even get a chance to fight back. Belial's punch had turned him into mush, bones shattered, flesh torn apart, tendons snapped, everything crushed into paste. Not even enough scraps left to bury.
He'd sealed off every escape path with his gravity field. Even if the guy tried to transform or mutate, it was useless. He still ended up as nothing more than red jelly.
But something was wrong. There were no golden coins. No loot drops. Not even that strange energy signature Belial had sensed before.
It was just… gone. As if it had never existed. The body, what little remained, was empty. He frowned.
"What the hell did that guy do?"
He casually blew off some sticky chunks stuck to his knuckles. Teleportation? Nah, it didn't feel like that.
Clone? Soul trick? Nothing showed up on his system's radar. It was a clean wipe, like the guy vanished from existence.
Belial's senses could normally track individual particles flying across cities, but this? This was different.