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However, the boy was not allowed the luxury of standing still.

{Conra, dodge!}

Before the protective cry of the spirit Rugus Artaius could even echo, Conra, driven by instinct, stomped on the ground. And in that moment—

Whoooosh—, sssss, sss, shhhk, crack, craaack!

Glancing at the aftermath of the phenomenon that occurred in an instant, Conra broke into a cold sweat. The upper part spun clockwise, the lower part counterclockwise. Two whirlwinds, rotating in opposite directions, had completely shredded the spot where he had just been standing.

If someone who majored in fluid dynamics on Earth saw this, they might have gone mad, calling it an impossible anomaly. But the power was undeniable. Above Conra, who was sweating nervously, the fragments of “space” being torn apart at the interface where the upper and lower whirlwinds met were vividly felt, sparking violently.

Soon, a foul, rotten-egg-like stench began to rise. Conra, feeling his eardrums buzz from the sudden pressure change, knew instinctively that this smell wasn’t good for his body. But he had no time to dwell on it.

Driven once more by his survival instincts, Conra raised Ogmios’ spear and drew a horizontal line across the ground.

In that moment, what he felt through the spear was like cutting through sticky, viscous slime. The spell’s energy, meant to bind his feet, was disrupted by Conra’s strike before it could fully form. Even so, as a dragon’s spell, the disrupted energy clung to the spear, but the sacred spear of Ogmios refused to allow such tainted energy to invade.

Having expelled the residual energy with his inner strength, Conra inadvertently allowed another wave of energy, hidden behind the first, to reach beneath his feet.

“Ugh!?”

Realizing too late that the energy was solidifying to make the ground slippery, Conra urgently stomped the ground. The precise tremor from his inner strength caused the solidifying energy to hesitate momentarily. Seizing the brief window, Conra kicked off the ground and leaped into the air, trying to escape the area where the energy was solidifying without touching the ground.

But what awaited the boy in mid-air was a storm of energy solidifying from all directions.

Rumble, crackle, buzzzzz…

Soon, sparks flying indiscriminately from all sides solidified, forming dozens of lightning plates. Each plate contained a bolt powerful enough to char a large tree on the spot. These plates tilted one after another, pouring out their lightning.

“————!!!”

In the chaotic flow of lightning that erased even sound, Conra floated through the web of intersecting bolts like a ghost. His movements, honed through years of rigorous training, were bold and exquisite.

But even with such skill, Conra couldn’t stay airborne forever. Though his boots enhanced his aerial mobility, the air was still an unfriendly place for a two-legged creature.

As Conra began to lose buoyancy and fall, new spells surged toward him.

Rumble, crash!

Rising from the ground were sharp earth spears—no, cloud spears, emerging from a land made of clouds. The fluffy clouds compressed instantly, revealing sharp spearheads. Even before touching them, Conra felt a stinging sensation on his skin.

A dense forest of spears. If he fell into it, there would be no escape—only impalement. Yet, Conra’s face showed no panic. Landing lightly on a spearhead like a feather, he dashed across the spears without hesitation.

Sweeping past Conra’s afterimage was a massive hand formed from clouds.

Glancing at the hand that had just crushed where he stood, Conra sighed. But his ordeal wasn’t over.

Noticing a massive shadow above, Conra looked up and saw it—a colossal tail descending from the sky.

{Dodge…! That…, survive…!}

{Energy…, borrow…!}

Is this what they call a life flashing before your eyes? In the stretched-out flow of perception, even the desperate advice from the spirits sounded distant. In that dazed moment, a massive force, laden with immense energy, mercilessly struck down.

Booooom—!

A deafening explosion sent a thick cloud of dust soaring into the sky. The dragon’s tail didn’t stop at one strike. It slammed down repeatedly, shaking the earth and filling the air with dust.

When the dragon’s attack ceased and the dust began to settle, the scene revealed was devastating.

The ground was deeply cratered, swept by what seemed like a storm. Amidst the settling dust, the boy’s figure slowly emerged.

Conra looked utterly defeated. Blood trickled from his mouth and nose, his eyes bloodshot with burst vessels. His legs trembled like a newborn fawn, and he leaned heavily on his spear, using it as a crutch. It seemed impossible for him to fight any longer.

Yet, despite his battered state, the boy was still alive.

{The damage is severe, but considering the situation, he held up well. If he hadn’t completed the protective barrier at the last moment, he’d be dead. Who would’ve thought he could combine eight Ogham letters and sixteen runes in that moment…? I thought growth in spellcasting under the threat of death was impossible, but I guess I was wrong.}

{The barrier aside, without the secondary protection created by his inner strength, this wouldn’t have ended so lightly. Was it called the Body Protection Technique? I’ve seen his master demonstrate it before, but it seems he’s learned it now.}

As the spirits whispered, Conra’s head throbbed. Exhaling the turbid energy from overusing his strength, he checked his condition. Despite already sighing, he felt another sigh rising from within.

‘Is further resistance impossible?’

Originally, warriors rely on the physical support of ethereal muscles, while spellcasters depend on the cognitive and energy control abilities of the ethereal brain. Conra’s martial arts, taught by Sophia, utilized inner strength through meridians.

But now, Conra had reached his limits in both. His ethereal muscles, nerves, and meridians were all strained, swollen, and barely functional.

If his ethereal body was in such a state, how could his physical body be unharmed? Hidden under his clothes, Conra’s body was covered in bruises and swelling, his tendons and muscles inflamed and trembling. Add to that the internal injuries from the backlash of energy.

The pain in his joints from dispersing the shock damage was almost trivial in comparison.

Despite it all, Conra gritted his teeth and stood straight, glaring into the eyes of the massive dragon above.

{You stand before the dragon. Bow, little one, and show respect.}

“I am Conra, son of Setanta and Kaliastra, disciple and servant of Knight Sophia de Chazel. I have never been taught to lower my eyes before an enemy who looks down on me!”

Feeling his soul crushed by the dragon’s overwhelming presence, Conra stubbornly stood his ground. Clinging to the bonds, experiences, and teachings he had accumulated, he resisted the pressure trying to force him to kneel.

Perhaps the dragon hadn’t expected its prey to resist so fiercely. Sensing its aura being repelled, the dragon’s eyes narrowed with renewed ferocity.

Though it could wield precise and powerful spells, the dragon was, at its core, a proud and violent creature. It had no patience for a mere insect daring to defy it.

Conra’s attitude only fueled the dragon’s rage. But Conra had no means left to fight back. His spear skills and spells were both neutralized. All that seemed to await him was a future of helpless defeat.

In that critical moment, a familiar voice reached Conra’s ears.

“You held out well. Leave this one to me. You focus on your task.”

Hearing that voice—stern yet warm, a source of pride for Conra—he felt a wave of relief and nodded slightly.

Whether the voice’s owner noticed or not, their presence began to manifest. A grand, majestic sword aura, as if dominating the entire space, drew the dragon’s attention.

Then, there was light. Conra’s vision, once precarious, was filled with a brilliant radiance.

 

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