Asterion's objective was to prevent the Kushala Daora from assaulting the hunters' vessel, but he had no way to block the winds that shifted at the Elder Dragon's whim.
Thus... he chose to help his Bazelgeuse ally beat down the Nergigante.
Nergigante: Why me?
As expected, the Kushala Daora immediately shifted its attention away from the "little bugs" on the ship. It turned its head, commanding a tempest to swirl toward Asterion.
And Asterion? He kept right on attacking the Nergigante!
He had to. Although the Nergigante had been on the receiving end of a beating since the start of the fight, its passive state was entirely due to Asterion's dirty tricks. Even if Asterion's sedative fluid hadn't plunged the Nergigante into a deep slumber, the power originated from a Zenith Zenaserisu. The power of an Elder Dragon species was no joke; only a creature like the Nergigante, which poured all its "Elder Dragon power" into its physical constitution, could withstand it.
Its extraordinary recovery granted it a superhuman metabolism. It was only through this sheer regenerative force that the Nergigante had avoided passing out.
In terms of ecological niches, common Elder Dragons like Teostra and Kushala Daora were technically on the Nergigante's menu. However, the Nergigante faced a struggle similar to Asterion's: when facing Elder Dragons capable of manipulating the external environment, it had to rely on its physical body to tank through the chaos.
It had to charge through the flames; it had to push through the storms.
It would end up bloodied and battered—a pathetic sight—but in the end, the Nergigante was always the one who emerged victorious.
So, despite the Nergigante looking miserable right now, things would get complicated the moment it shook off the effects of Asterion's sedative. Asterion couldn't secrete that much fluid again in such a short window. To make matters worse, the constant pain inflicted by the Bazelgeuse was stimulating the Nergigante's body, forcing it back to alertness.
"Roar!" (Kill the Nergigante first!)
"Roar!" (Don't run!)
The first cry belonged to Asterion; the second was the Kushala Daora's.
The two dragons charged toward the Nergigante, one after the other. Asterion's blade-tail swung directly for the Nergigante's head—Clang!
The Nergigante parried the blow simply by swinging its massive horns. Simultaneously, the Bazelgeuse lowered its forebody again, ramming into the Nergigante's left wing. The spikes there had mostly fallen off under the repeated pummeling. Even if the Nergigante could regenerate them in time, the new growth still needed a moment to harden past their fragile state.
Whoosh!
A pressurized blast of lead-gray wind howled toward the Bazelgeuse, slamming into its large head—which was currently glowing with an internal orange light—and knocking it sideways.
However, the Bazelgeuse had succeeded in creating an opening. Asterion's blade-tail suddenly extended, curving mid-air to strike at a bizarre angle toward the base of the Nergigante's hind legs—Skreeeee!!
There were no spikes there, nor any external reproductive organs. The high-frequency vibrating serrated edge ground against the black scales, erupting in a shower of sparks. But very quickly, what sprayed out instead was the Nergigante's blood and minced flesh!
"ROAR!!"
Refusing to let the Nergigante lose its combat effectiveness at such a moment, the Kushala Daora closed in behind Asterion. But to its surprise, Asterion's blade-tail retracted at that exact second!
Like a recoiling spring, it didn't just return to its original length—it shrunk even shorter, only to snap out even longer in the blink of an eye, slashing in the opposite direction—CLANG!! ZZZT-ZZZT-ZZZT!!
After the initial impact, the sound shifted entirely to that of a circular saw biting into hardened steel. Flying sparks and steel shavings sprayed several meters away!
Asterion's strike landed squarely on the Kushala Daora's slender neck! It was premeditated! A total ambush!
Besiege Wei to rescue Zhao! Repair the gallery roads in secret while marching through Chencang!
As an "idiom-loving" Elder Dragon, Asterion had lured the Kushala Daora completely into his trap within a dozen breaths. That's right—his true goal was to kill this Kushala Daora! Or, at the very least, ensure this annoying old dragon couldn't leisurely sit on the sidelines and interfere with the battlefield!
This strike carried the weight of Asterion's entire body, and the surface of his blade-scales even shimmered with a pale yellow light.
In a moment of desperation, the Kushala Daora could only instinctively recoil, frantically raising its wings and foreclaws to block the tail. The broad blade-tail had already wedged itself halfway into its neck! It continued to saw—and then Asterion ripped it back!
"ROAR!!!"
Only now did the Kushala Daora manage a scream. There wasn't much anger in it; it was mostly panic and shock. Even its roar sounded weak.
A bit of a shame.
Asterion flicked his tail back. Dulled blade-scales, mixed with steel shavings and Dragon Blood, splashed a long trail beside him like ink from a brush.
If only the Kushala Daora's reaction had been a second slower, Asterion thought with regret. Given a little more time, he could have sawn the Elder Dragon into "Nearly Headless Kushala."
The Kushala Daora was in full-blown shock. Gone was its composed, "ruler of the sky" attitude; it was now consumed by frantic terror. Rather than seeking revenge on Asterion, it instinctively wrapped itself in a tempest. The pitch-black storm acted like a thick layer of cotton, cocooning the Kushala Daora in the center until its silhouette was barely visible.
As the saying goes: Asterion might not have the Elder Dragon power to manipulate the environment... but he had a sword.
An exceptionally sharp sword.
"ROAR!!!!"
Seconds later, the Kushala Daora went berserk.
An immeasurable tempest coalesced on the coast. From the near-shore waters to the adjacent land, nothing was spared. This powerful storm radiated from the Kushala Daora as its epicenter, ravaging everything in all directions.
It wasn't an illusion; the rocky outcrops near the Kushala Daora were being ground flat at a visible rate. This cataclysmic scene was far more terrifying than the disturbance caused by the old Kushala Daora years ago—yet Asterion wasn't particularly panicked. He didn't even plan to run.
Death throes.
That was his evaluation of the Kushala Daora's current reaction.
The real world wasn't a game. No creature had a "health bar." There was no rule saying you wouldn't die until a bar hit zero, nor did fatal injuries manifest as mere "high damage." In reality, if you accidentally took a fatal wound, you died. Period.
The Kushala Daora's neck had been sawn open with a massive gash. Even the central spinal column had been damaged; it was that very spine that had stopped Asterion's serrated blade from cutting deeper.
But once the blade was withdrawn, a massive, irreparable hole was left in the Kushala Daora's neck.
This wasn't a simple clean cut. With a clean blade, the flesh remains and the wound can be pressed together. But Asterion's "saw" had shredded everything at the cross-section. The Elder Dragon Blood was currently geysering out of the wound!
It was nearly impossible to stop. Even if the Kushala Daora instinctively tried to plug the wound with its wings or claws, it couldn't reach. A dragon's limbs simply weren't as dextrous as a Fanged Beast's. Yes, the Kushala Daora was a "giant hunk of ore," but a body covered in a steel shell didn't mean it didn't have flesh and blood inside! It wasn't literally a sentient rock!
Asterion had no intention of approaching the Kushala Daora while it was desperately venting its remaining power. Rule one: Never get close to a dying beast.
Rule two: Send the guy you hate over to that dying beast.
"Roar, roar!" (Kick him over together! Hurry!)
Bellowing at the Bazelgeuse, Asterion sprinted behind the Nergigante. With the Bazelgeuse ramming with its head and Asterion slamming with his body, they knocked the still-staggering Nergigante toward the frenzied Kushala Daora.
Now it was perfect. Two annoying things brought together.
The violent storm acted like invisible steel daggers, shredding the spikes on the Nergigante's back as it was forced inward. In its life-or-death crisis, the Kushala Daora had long since forgotten its original plan; it now rejected anything and everything that dared approach it.
"ROAR!!!"
The Nergigante roared in agony. The Kushala Daora's pervasive wind was more than capable of hurting it.
On the other side, Asterion wasn't finished. He retracted the outer blade-scales of his tail once more and bit down on the red-glowing tail with his teeth—the finishing move! Heaven and Earth Peerless Tail-Bite Spin!!
Regardless of the circumstances, Asterion loved hitting a stationary target!
Slash!!
Converting weight into momentum, even his wing-bones vented fire at a specific angle to add thrust. At this moment, Asterion was like a high-speed top!
SPLAAT!!!
The sound was crisp and melodic—the sound of a sharp blade slicing through flesh, snapping bone, and separating muscle. Simultaneously, several gunshots rang out. When Asterion shook his dizzy head and steadied himself, he saw the lead-gray storm covering the ground beginning to fade.
The hunters had launched their attack at the same time. Their bullets struck the Kushala Daora's sharp horn from above. Though it was a small area of impact, the Kushala Daora let out a pained wail and collapsed to the ground.
Finally, the Kushala Daora's condition was clear. Everything was as Asterion had predicted. A massive amount of blood was spraying from its neck like a high-pressure water pump.
Unlike other monsters, because nearly two-thirds of its body was composed of mineralized steel shell, an Elder Dragon like Kushala Daora actually had less blood than other Elder Dragons of the same size. Asterion had likely carved a hole straight through its carotid artery.
But compared to the Kushala Daora, the most wretched sight was actually the Nergigante. Asterion's spin-slash had caught the Nergigante mid-torso, nearly cutting it in two.
No—it was in two!
The massive, incredibly sharp tail-blade had traveled from the base of the Nergigante's hind legs all the way up diagonally, forcibly severing the back half of its wings and its entire lower body!
"ROAR!!!"
It was awake now.
From the moment it was born—or rather, from the moment it became sentient—the Nergigante had never been this awake.
The excruciating pain drove it into a frantic roar. The agony had stripped away its reason, turning it into an animal operating purely on instinct!
Escape!
There was no need for thought, no need for weighing options, no need to worry about food. In the Nergigante's mind, there was one, and only one, command—the most primitive and fundamental instruction of a living body: SURVIVE!!
But Asterion wasn't about to let such an opportunity slip by.
"Roar!! (Thinking of running?! Not a chance!!)
He pounced without hesitation, his eyes almost glowing green—he wanted to eat the Nergigante!
"ROAR!!"
To Asterion's surprise, the Nergigante, which was desperately flapping its remaining wings to get airborne, suddenly whipped its head around and bit him. In the heat of the moment, Asterion could only raise his forelimbs and instinctively thrust his back wing-bones forward as a shield—CRUNCH!!
"ROAR!!!"
This time, the roar of pain came from Asterion. With the explosive strength born of agony, the Nergigante had actually bitten through two of Asterion's wing-bones! The crisp snapping sound was unmistakable. The Nergigante clamped down and violently thrashed its head, tearing off half a wing-bone and crushing it in its maw!!
BOOM!!
The Bazelgeuse arrived to assist. He didn't care about the details; he simply continued to blanket the Nergigante in explosions, trying to pin it down. But despite everything, the Nergigante actually took flight.
To be precise, the top half of the Nergigante took flight.
The bottom half remained on the ground, organs and blood spilling from the cross-section. The pair of thick hind legs even continued to twitch and kick, as if still trying to run across the earth.
A half-remnant of a Nergigante.
Wait... how the hell can it still fly like that???
Asterion didn't even care about his mangled wing-bones. Even that pain couldn't override his sheer shock. He stared open-mouthed as the Nergigante flew toward the interior of the island; having shed the weight of its lower half, the damn thing was actually flying quite fast!!
Even as blood poured from the severed torso and bits of "material" rained down from the sky... Wait, is this even logical???
Asterion was baffled. Was this the kind of vitality a normal organism was supposed to have?
Why?
How?!
How are you still alive?!
Because the shock was so great, Asterion was momentarily speechless.
Whirr!!
The condensing storm had become so thick it felt liquid. The Kushala Daora used a sea of wind to drown out the stunned Asterion and the Bazelgeuse. Exploding blade-scale fragments were blown away by the gale like daggers before they could even reach the Elder Dragon.
However, Asterion felt no fear.
The Kushala Daora was craning its neck, gasping for air. The sheer scale of its breathing was like a man coming up for air after being submerged for five minutes. Yet even with such exaggerated effort, the Elder Dragon looked like it could barely stand, forced to lock its forelegs just to prop itself up.
It was dying.
Asterion didn't even need to say anything mocking. Even the Kushala Daora realized its end was near. Vast amounts of Elder Dragon Blood were dripping from its chest, staining the ground beneath it a deep, dark crimson.
The Kushala Daora had underestimated the lethality of Asterion's tail-blade. It had overestimated the defense of its own steel shell. And most importantly, it had failed to realize that Asterion's attack on the Nergigante was a mere feint—that the true target had been itself all along...
It would pay for that mistake with its life.
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