42. The Demons Dance

Chapter 42: The Demon's Dance

The battlefield reeked of blood and fire.

The ground trembled beneath my feet. The air shimmered from the lingering heat of the dragon's flames. The stench of scorched stone and molten metal filled my lungs, but none of it mattered.

Because I wasn't done yet.

My ki surged, an unstoppable force boiling inside me, burning with a raging inferno.

It poured out of my body, black and red, wild yet controlled.

The aura snapped and cracked, the sheer energy warping the air around me. I felt it pulling at my skin, my muscles, my very bones—strengthening them, making me faster, stronger, deadlier than ever before.

And then—

My sword absorbed it.

The black blade by my side drank the ki, swallowing it whole like a beast that had been starving for ages. The more energy I fed it, the brighter it became.

Not a glow—an ethereal radiance.

A light of black and red, flickering like living fire, illuminating the entire chamber with a haunting, almost demonic brilliance.

I glanced to the corner.

Neralia was still recovering, her body slumped against the cold stone wall. Beads of sweat ran down her face, her breathing heavy as she worked to restore her mana.

She looked up at me—her blue eyes wide, reflecting the glow of my sword.

I smirked.

"You're gonna wanna watch this."

Then—I lunged.

Faster than a thought.

The dragon roared—a deafening, furious bellow—but this time, I was faster.

I vanished from sight, a shadow streaking through firelight, my body moving at inhuman speeds.

Its metallic tail lashed out—I twisted midair, flipping over it.

Its claws raked forward—I ducked, skidding along the stone floor, feeling the wind of its deadly strike barely missing my head.

Its fangs snapped shut where I had just been—but I was already behind it.

"Too slow, tin can."

I struck.

And this time—the blade cut through.

The black steel sank into the dragon's metal hide like a hot knife through butter.

The moment the edge bit, the surrounding flesh and armor cracked apart, splitting open like shattered glass, sending glistening molten blood spraying into the air.

The dragon howled in agony.

It tried to twist around—but I was already on its back, running up its spine like a demon of war.

I swung down—my sword cleaving through scales and steel, carving a deep gash along its back, more molten blood gushing forth in steaming rivers.

The beast thrashed, but I held on, flipping forward, landing on its horned skull.

"Alright, big guy," I growled, my blade humming with bloodlust, "time to go to hell."

I plunged my sword down—right into the base of its skull.

The moment the blade pierced, a violent pulse of energy surged through the dragon's body.

A shockwave of raw destruction blasted outward, ripping its armored scales apart, sending shards of metallic flesh exploding into the air like shattered stone.

Its neck split open—its spine severed.

Its legs collapsed, its roar dying in its throat.

And then—

I tore my sword free.

The dragon's head fell from its shoulders, crashing onto the stone with a sickening, final thud.

Its body convulsed one last time—then, silence.

The chamber was still.

Only the sound of my own ragged breathing remained.

I stood there, panting.

My entire body ached.

My chest rose and fell in heavy, desperate gasps.

My hands shook from the sheer exertion of the fight.

And then—

I screamed.

A deep, primal roar, a sound that shook my very soul.

Not in rage.

Not in pain.

But in sheer, overwhelming relief.

It was over.

I staggered, barely keeping my balance, my vision swimming from exhaustion.

Then, my eyes fell upon the blood-soaked floor.

Amidst the mangled remains of the dragon's body, surrounded by a pool of molten gore, something shimmered faintly.

A soft, ethereal glow.

Blue and white.

The Philosopher's Stone.

I reached down and grasped the stone.

The moment my fingers closed around it—

A surge of energy struck through me.

It wasn't gentle.

It was like grabbing onto a live wire, a bolt of raw power lashing through my veins, setting my nerves on fire. My muscles locked up, my vision whitened, and for a single, unbearable second, I felt as if my very soul was being yanked out of my body.

Then—just as suddenly as it hit me—it was gone.

I stumbled, nearly falling to my knees, my breath coming in sharp gasps. My body felt normal again, no longer wracked by the sensation of being electrocuted. But the stone in my grip…

Its glow weakened.

The once vibrant blue-white radiance dimmed, flickering like a dying candle, before finally settling into a faint, pulsing light. It was still active, still humming with power, but something had changed.

I didn't have time to figure out what.

I slid the stone under my armor, securing it against my chest, and turned toward Neralia.

She was still slumped against the wall, her face pale, exhaustion clear in every breath she took.

I ran to her.

She tilted her head up, eyes barely focused. "You're still alive?"

I smirked. "Disappointed?"

She exhaled, then gave me a tired smile. "Maybe just a little."

I huffed a laugh, crouching beside her. "You alright?"

She let out a slow breath. "I will be. I just need a moment. Mana drain takes time to recover from."

"You sure? Because you look like you're one bad sneeze away from keeling over."

She glared at me. "And you look like a man who just fought a dragon."

"…Fair point."

Her eyes flicked to my armor—specifically, the places where I should have been broken, bruised, and bleeding. "But you don't look injured. At all."

I exhaled through my nose, leaning back against the wall. "Yeah. That potion you gave me? Never again."

She furrowed her brows. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Oh, it worked," I said dryly. "It also felt like getting ripped apart from the inside out. My bones literally broke and reset themselves. While I was still conscious."

"…Oh."

I shot her a deadpan look. "'Oh?' That's all you have to say?"

"I told you the full dose brings people back from the dead. What did you expect?"

"…Not that."

She actually smirked at that, but before I could call her out on it, she held out a hand.

"Give it back," she said.

I blinked. "What?"

"The potion. You said you're never using it again, right?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Then give it back."

I stared at her for a second. Then, grumbling, I reached into my armor, pulled out the small black vial, and placed it in her palm.

She tucked it away. "Smart choice."

I sighed, rolling my shoulders. "Anyway, good news. We've got the artifact."

Her eyes flicked to me. "You're sure?"

I patted my chest. "Right here."

"…Then we just need to find Lashley."

"Yep."

She let out a slow breath. "I swear, if he's still wandering around like an idiot, I'm going to set him on fire."

I chuckled. "You're gonna have to get in line."

Silence stretched for a moment. Then, she spoke again.

"You fought well."

I blinked. "Huh?"

She looked away, as if the words had physically hurt to say. "I said you fought well. Against the dragon."

"…Wow. I never thought I'd hear you say that."

She shot me a mildly irritated look. "Don't make me take it back."

"Alright, alright." I held up my hands in surrender, but I couldn't help but grin.

Another pause. Then—

"What kind of magic was that?"

My smile froze.

She was staring at me now, eyes sharp. "I was watching you. I didn't sense any mana from you. None at all. But you were still using… something. And that sword—" she nodded at my blade, still faintly glowing with residual energy—"absorbed whatever it was. That's not normal magic, Kaizen."

I exhaled slowly, leaning my head back against the wall.

*Shit.*

She wasn't going to drop this.

I needed to shut it down.

So I said the only thing I could:

"Not important."

She narrowed her eyes. "Not important?"

"Yeah." I stood, dusting myself off. "Not important. What is important is getting out of here before the ceiling collapses on our heads."

Her gaze lingered on me, unreadable.

Then, with an irritated sigh, she pushed herself up. "Fine. For now."

Good. I'd take it.

But as we made our way toward the opening in the wall—the one I had crashed through like a goddamn wrecking ball—I knew this conversation wasn't over.

She was sharp. Too sharp.

And sooner or later…

She was going to figure it out.