The impact should have pulverized him. Kenzo felt his ribs crack, his vision whiting out as he was slammed into the unyielding stone of the Sun Throne. Kallista's claws, each the size of a dagger, tightened around his throat, the sharp points pricking his skin, ready to puncture his windpipe and end his life in a spray of blood. He could feel the immense, crushing pressure, the absolute finality of her grip. But in that moment of ultimate submission, his 'Pure' mana, the very essence of his being that refused to be contained, screamed one last command: *survive*. His body didn't break; it dissolved.
With a sickening, liquid sound, Kenzo's form collapsed into a pool of shimmering, black mercury. Kallista's claws, expecting to crush bone and sinew, scraped uselessly against the hard stone of the throne. She roared in confusion, her fiery eyes scanning the empty space where her prey had been. The liquid metal pooled around the base of the throne, a silent, sentient shadow. Before she could react, the pool surged upwards, reforming with terrifying speed into Kenzo's solid shape behind her. He didn't hesitate. He didn't gloat. He acted.
The Sovereign's Greatsword, still clutched in his hand, felt impossibly heavy, a weapon forged for a hand far greater than his. But he was no longer just a man. He was the Prince of Corruption, the master of this fortress. He channeled every ounce of his will, every scrap of his 'Pure' mana, into the blade. With a guttural scream, he swung the sword not at her back or her neck, but at the vast, leathery membrane of her outstretched wing. The ancient, enchanted steel, humming with his power, sliced through the dragon-scale and flesh like a hot knife through butter.
"SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" The sound was not a roar of fury, but a shriek of pure, unadulterated agony. Kallista staggered forward, her massive wing now sporting a deep, gaping wound. A torrent of thick, crimson blood, smelling of sulfur and ozone, gushed from the gash, splattering the marble floor. And then, something strange happened. The Sovereign's Greatsword began to drink. The blood flowing from the wound didn't just fall to the floor; it was drawn to the blade, slithering up the metal like living red serpents and absorbing into the ancient steel. The sword, once a dull, imposing grey, began to glow with a faint, internal, ruby light.
Kenzo could feel it. A raw, immense heat flooded through the sword and up his arm, a power so ancient and wild it felt like it might burn him from the inside out. It was the Dragon's power. Her very life essence, her centuries of accumulated mana, was being forcibly transferred into the weapon, and by extension, into him. He felt a primal understanding dawn on him. This was the Tax. This was the true purpose of the Sovereign's power. It wasn't just about ruling; it was about consuming. He could drain her. He could take all of it. And if he could take the power of the greatest General in the empire, he would have enough. Enough to face the Queen. Enough to burn this whole system to the ground.
But Kallista was not so easily beaten. Wounded and enraged, she spun around with a speed that defied her size, her remaining wing lashing out like a massive, scaly club. Kenzo barely managed to raise the sword to block, but the force of the impact sent him flying across the throne room, crashing into a stone pillar. He felt the Dragon's fire mana surging within him, a chaotic, burning energy that threatened to tear him apart. He had to control it. He had to master it, now. He focused, drawing on his new skill. [Mana Overload].
He didn't just release his mana; he weaponized it. He pushed the stolen Dragon-fire, mixed with his own 'Pure' energy, out in a single, concussive wave. It wasn't an attack of fire or force; it was an attack of pure, unadulterated magic, a pulse designed to overload the nervous system of any magical creature. The wave washed over Kallista, and her body seized. Her muscles locked rigid, her roar cutting off in a choked gasp. She was paralyzed, a living statue of burning fury, her immense power trapped within her own immobile flesh.
She stood there, frozen, a monument to her own defeat. And then, slowly, agonizingly, she began to fall. Her paralyzed muscles could no longer support her immense weight. Her legs buckled, and with a thunderous crash that shook the entire palace, the Dragon-General of the Crimson Wing, the most feared warrior in the Hybrian Empire, was forced to her knees. The Male Rioters, who had cautiously entered the hall, stared in stunned silence. Their former master, their tormentor, was kneeling before them, defeated by a single man.
Kenzo pushed himself up from the pillar, his body aching, his soul burning with the stolen Dragon-fire. He walked slowly, deliberately, across the grand hall, the glowing Sovereign's Greatsword dragging behind him, leaving a trail of sparks on the marble. He stopped in front of the kneeling Kallista. He looked down at her, at her burning eyes, which were now filled with a new emotion: fear. He raised his boot and placed it firmly on her snout, pushing her head down until her forehead touched the floor. The ultimate act of submission.
"Your fire is out, Dragon," Kenzo said, his voice cold, laced with the crackling energy of her own stolen power. "Time to see if you can handle the Sovereign's heat."