Chapter 25 abu
In the midst of the vast whiteness covered by snow, not far from the Fortress, Eskandor was panting, his fists still clenched. The impact of his previous strike still vibrated through the cold air. His fist had hit the ground with such force that it not only crushed the snow around him but also cracked the very earth beneath it. Within a three-meter radius, everything had been shattered—snow, stone, soil—like a small god of destruction had manifested for an instant.
Eskandor's eyes glowed with pure euphoria, his chest heaving with excitement.
"This is incredible! Jahahah! What kind of power is this?!" he exclaimed, laughing with the wild enthusiasm of someone who had just tasted the impossible. "It was just a little bit of blood..."
He could hardly believe it. Just a single drop of His Majesty's blood... and he had become this. He raised his hand to his head, touching the horns now sprouting there, firm and curved like symbols of newly acquired power. He ran his fingers through his hair, now thicker, wilder, with a sheen that reflected Uriel's draconic heritage—and in his opinion, it looked incredibly stylish. Only the tail he had gained frustrated him: the muscles still didn't obey properly, and moving it with precision was more difficult than he had expected.
"I need to find a way for His Majesty to give me more blood..." he murmured, almost to himself, as if whispering a prayer born of greed. The feeling of power was addictive. If a tiny fragment had given him such strength, what could he achieve with a larger amount? Maybe... maybe he could even surpass Uriel. Not that he planned to face him, that would be suicide. Eskandor was ambitious, but not foolish. Challenging him? It wouldn't be worth it.
Suddenly, the wind blew stronger, carrying a biting cold. Eskandor lifted his eyes to the sky. The moon, once hidden by veils of dense clouds, began to timidly appear—but something was wrong. It didn't shine with its usual silver light. A scarlet hue started to spread slowly across its surface, as if the sky was bleeding. Eskandor froze. His eyes widened.
"No..." he whispered, swallowing hard. He knew that sign all too well. The last time the moon had taken on that cursed color, an entire army of lizardmen had emerged from the darkness, like a living plague.
His heart raced.
"Could it... could it be another attack?" he thought, his hands already moving by instinct.
Without wasting time, Eskandor spun on his heels and shot toward the Fortress. The snow flew around him with each powerful step, and the tail—even clumsy—dragged behind him. The trail he left was a deep groove in the snow, like the path of a fallen comet, racing against the omen of blood hanging in the sky.
At the Fortress, where the vast hole opened by Uriel lay—a colossal crater descending into the unknown depths of the earth—the silence of the snow was shattered by a deafening scream.
"Your Majesty! The red moon has appeared in the sky!"
The voice was high-pitched, reverberating like an avalanche among the frozen walls. It belonged to a giant of ice, an immense female, with white hair fluttering like ethereal veils, blue eyes shining with dread. Her skin resembled blue crystal, reflecting the scarlet moonlight with a cold beauty. She trembled, not from the cold—because cold was her essence—but from the terror that sight evoked.
The last time the moon had turned red, it was the first time the ice giants marched under Uriel's command. In that battle, the men had gone out with courage to face the threat, but none of them fell. None even bled. All thanks to Uriel... who alone crushed the invading army as if they were dry leaves in the wind.
The giant gazed at the hole with anxiety. The interior was as black as an endless abyss, but then... something glimmered. A single colossal eye, blue and intense like the moon itself, opened in the depths. She shuddered. That solitary gaze was unmistakable—the silent presence of a god.
And then, like a silent lightning bolt, a colossal shadow cut through the air. Something immense rose from the hole with absurd speed, the impact of its wings causing the snow around to fly like a storm. No need to look twice to know: it was Uriel.
In the sky, above the scarlet-tinted clouds, the great dragon was already hovering. His body was enveloped by the blood moon's light that hit his dark blue scales, but his solitary eye was a beacon of absolute power. Silent and imposing, he watched.
Uriel scanned the ground with a sharp gaze. He expected to find an army again, just like last time. But there were no waves of creatures crawling across the plains. Instead, he saw two flying figures cutting through the sky toward him—two wyverns in full flight, as fast as arrows, with torn wings and dark scales. On them, two lizards.
One of them bore twisted horns, his body covered in red armor, muscular and impassive. The other had no horns, but his gaze was equally cruel.
Uriel watched them in silence. And he felt the power pulsing in one of them.
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Name: Abu Mister
Race: Half-Dragon
Age: 100 years
Level: 150/200
HP: 9500
MP: 9500
Titles:
– First Commander
– The Half-Dragon
– Dominator
– King Slayer
– Fighter
– The One Who Almost Never Loses
Statistics:
– Strength: 179
– Speed: 203
– Intelligence: 190
– Vitality: 190
– Defense: 160
Abilities:
- [Blood Control]: Abu can freely manipulate the bodies of any living being within his sight, as long as they are weaker than him. A simple glance, and his targets can be forced to kneel or crush their own hearts.
- [Mini Blood Breath]: A technique inherited from the legendary Blood King. Though a smaller version, it is still capable of causing devastating damage, firing a concentrated jet of blood energy that corrodes both flesh and soul.
- [Sword Master]: Abu wields his blade as if it were an extension of his own body. His mastery is so absolute that he can mold his blood into auxiliary weapons, extra blades, or even chains, all to complement his technique.
- [Half-Dragon Roar]: A terrifying roar that vibrates through the air like an ancestral thunder. While it doesn't compare to the roar of a true dragon, it is strong enough to send inferior beings into states of absolute panic or uncontrollable madness. Pure dragons are unaffected.
- [Blood Puppet]: A cruel and strategic technique. By inserting his blood into the body of an enemy, Abu can control them like a puppet. The less blood the enemy has in comparison to his, the more effective the ability becomes.
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Uriel stopped reading the status screen. There were still more abilities listed, maybe some extra description, but he simply averted his gaze. It was no longer necessary. He had seen enough to understand: the one before him was, without a doubt, the most powerful enemy he would face to date.
A slight smile—a bitter one, like ice melting under hot blood—appeared on his draconic face. But it lasted only a moment before disappearing. He lifted his gaze to the scarlet sky, his single eye gleaming like a cold star.
It didn't matter.
It didn't matter if that being had been created by him, from various ideas when creating his game, he still had to die the same way.
Uriel slowly extended his wings, the snow swirling around his body like sharp serpents. The air around him seemed to bend, dense, silent, and heavy like the eve of war.
On the other side of the sky, mounted on the wyvern, Abu Mister watched in silence. His reptilian eyes narrowed as he stared at the dragon above. For a moment, surprise flickered in his vertical pupils, cutting through his arrogant expression.
"Who would've thought... a dragon here? This I didn't expect."
His voice was deep and hissing, as though each word came mixed with the sound of scales dragging.
He was strong—he knew that. Strong enough to crush the lizard flying beside him without even breaking a sweat. The difference between them was glaring. But... For him, this dragon was no joke, he thought of killing it quickly.
But then, something changed.
A smile slowly spread across the half-dragon's face. It was thin, treacherous, full of ulterior motives. His teeth exposed, sharp, stained with arrogance.
If he could capture that dragon...
If he could break Uriel, turn him into a slave, and deliver him to the Blood King...
Ah, the rewards would be unimaginable. Perhaps, just perhaps, the king would allow him to ascend. Maybe he would let him complete his transformation and become a true dragon.
The mere thought made him shiver with anticipation. His wings vibrated. His claws clenched tightly around the wyvern's back. His eyes shone with pure greed.
"Yes... you'll be my ticket to greatness..." he murmured, his smile widening. "And I'll tear every scale off you with my own hands."
In the sky, two wills clashed.
One, cold, inevitable, like death.
The other, hot, hungry, like a fire that never quenches.
The confrontation was inevitable.
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