Caspian suddenly transformed before the two adversaries' eyes into something truly terrifying—something abnormal.
An oppressive force washed over them, so heavy it stole the air from their lungs, as if they were standing before the Dragon King himself.
The one with the earth gauntlets shouted urgently to his companion.
"Quick! Don't let him do whatever this is—attack!"
He shot forward in a desperate blur of speed, but it was already too late.
Caspian screamed as his body was rewritten into something never before seen in this world.
A new creation. An anomaly.
From his back, two wings erupted—then four, then six—until twenty full pairs of massive, golden, glowing angelic wings unfurled in an overwhelming display of holy brilliance.
Upon closer inspection, the "feathers" were not feathers at all, but overlapping golden metallic scales, catching and reflecting the light like divine blades.
His ears lengthened, sharpening to elegant, predatory points.
His eyes became heterochromatic—one a blazing crimson inferno with a vertical draconic slit, the other eerily human, its iris burning like a miniature sun.
They snapped open.
Locked onto the charging dragon.
And in that instant, the attacker froze mid-step, as if death itself stood before him—judging, dissecting, reading his entire life like an open book.
In a flash of shimmering light, the lower half of Caspian's body transformed into that of a dragon.
Lean, compact, and impossibly lethal—a masterpiece of predatory design clad in radiant golden scales.
He dug razor-sharp, curved claws into the stone floor, his new weight making the ground groan in protest.
Then he launched himself skyward.
His body coiled and released like a living weapon, wings spreading wide—so vast they blotted out the light, turning day into night.
A long, wiry draconic tail curved behind him, ending in a massive executioner's spike shaped like a scythe.
His upper body was fully exposed now—broader, denser, more powerful.
Across his chest burned a divine sigil: radiant scales tipped toward judgment, crossed by a sword—the authority to condemn and slay.
It glowed with a power that felt ancient. Absolute.
In one hand, holy scales materialised—mechanical, divine, and alive.
In the other, a colossal, brutally curved sword of black and crimson appeared.
A living crimson eye blinked open between the hilt and blade.
The violent surge of energy rewrote Caspian's very existence.
His stats skyrocketed to a degree that nearly shattered his sanity.
The strength of his True Dragon Transformation now felt insignificant—a candle held against the detonation of a supernova.
Too much.
Too fast.
A flood of power threatening to drown him in glorious madness.
Now he understood the system's fear.
He wasn't ready for this.
But he didn't care.
He had only one thought.
Save Kala.
Then, distorted and divine, Caspian spoke like a wrathful god.
"I will judge you two for your sins."
His voice came from everywhere at once.
The archer never released his arrow.
His arms trembled violently, the lightning still half-formed in his grasp.
The earth-gauntlet wielder remained frozen, barely conscious—his earlier eye contact having shattered his will.
They had never felt this powerless.
Like prey.
Like insects awaiting extinction.
"M-monster! Anomaly! The Council should have you sla—"
The archer's words died as the scales shifted.
A thunderous metallic CLANK echoed through the slums.
It wasn't symbolic.
Reality itself acknowledged the judgment.
Caspian was before him in a breath.
Sword raised.
"You have been judged."
The verdict was absolute.
Golden light flashed.
The archer's head separated cleanly from his shoulders, striking the ground with a wet, final thud—his expression frozen in disbelief.
Caspian appeared behind the second attacker instantly.
The dragon collapsed to his knees, sobbing.
"Please! I don't want to die! I'll tell you anything!"
Cold words answered him.
"You have been judged and found guilty."
The scales clicked once more.
Final.
The blade fell.
Life ended as if it had been decided long before this moment ever existed.
Seconds passed.
Caspian turned, eyes locking onto a distant shadow fleeing through the slums.
It shuddered—as if death itself had noticed it.
His head throbbed violently.
Mana burned away at an alarming rate.
Still, he tried to push forward.
But the system intervened.
[Locking True Angelic Dragon now…]
"No—! I need to—save—her… I can still—"
Darkness claimed him.
[Mission failed.]
________
He truly is Thalric's blood.
Vaxen observed from the shadows, eyes narrowed.
Even I felt apprehensive.
Appearing beside the collapsed Caspian, the old butler lifted him effortlessly—and vanished.
Two corpses remained.