The White Death

Siren sounds* Siren sounds

It hurt to keep going—especially when the others stubbornly insisted on taking down the dragon. And sure, they did… but only for a moment. They never realized he'd rise again from his ashes and the blaze of his own corpse—more arrogant than ever.

The explosion, and the flash that came with it, hit hard. Dozens of hunters near him got wiped out, caught off guard when the dragon came back to life.

Frida bit her lip hard. She knew deep down she should've killed that crying girl with the pale face when she had the chance. She thought that was her biggest mistake. Her anger flared as she gripped her sword tightly.

Leon didn't argue. He just said firmly,

"You don't have to blame yourself for what happened. What's done is done. Let's focus on capturing them. From what I can tell, that girl and her sister are high-ranked—and dangerous. We need to shut them down."

He got ready to move, and Frida followed right behind. It wasn't clear whether they should go after the dragon again, or whoever was secretly controlling it.

But running into the dragon again was pretty much guaranteed. Leon gave the order, and the two sisters moved away from the fight.

Leon launched a storm of golden light spells—elegant arrows blazing through the sky—and Frida wasn't far behind. She came in swinging with her sword, flames bursting around her with a fierce beauty and precision that matched Leon's rhythm.

Their mana was nearly drained, but their +S-rank experience kicked in—no way they'd crumble under pressure like that. They managed to push back the massive dragon, but dealing with the sisters? That was the real nightmare.

The dragon kept risking everything to shield them, using its body and fire to tear through the hunters—even under Leon and Frida's command.

The white dragon was just on another level—especially up against fighters like Leon and Frida. And honestly, they might've been the last serious ones still standing after "The Big Gun Boy" bailed earlier, even though he's the same rank and had only been watching from a distance.

Leon fought hard to hold his ground. His arrow-shaped spells were dealing serious damage to the dragon—even as it kept soaring through the sky, breathing fire that could wipe out entire hunter formations in one blast. Deep down, Leon knew that if this kept up, the fight against "The Arrogant One" would turn into a hopeless war of attrition—draining, pointless, and bound to cost them dearly.

His gut feeling only grew stronger… until finally, some backup showed up—his fellow members from The Seven Saints.

Benedict appeared, alongside Francis, the young guy who never shows up without calling down lightning from the heavens.

They joined Leon's side, and he couldn't help but feel thankful for the timing—and what they might bring to the battle.

Benedict, massive as ever, never stepped into a fight without his holy axe, ranked B+++.

Francis, meanwhile, tore open the sky with wave after wave of lightning, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

Frida coordinated with them, unleashing blazing fire to trap the dragon from all directions. But even through the pain—it didn't fall.

It only got more stubborn, as if its pride refused to let it be humbled.

The dragon knew—no one could match its strength or pride.

It endured Benedict's crushing axe blows in silence, and withstood Leon's pinpoint spells—the deadliest he had to offer.

But amid the chaos, a deeper realization began to sink in:

If they drained what little mana and strength they had left… there wouldn't be a second chance.

This monster… doesn't wear out easily.

Everyone witnessed the dragon's endurance and arrogance as it launched an almost irresistible assault—dancing through the air before swooping down surrounded by roaring flames, a proud display of its power with a massive sweep of fire that no one could match.

Francis's lightning strikes did nothing against this beast. Frida, exhausted despite her resistance, kept fighting—raising her sword again, defying every gaze, especially Leon's.

It wasn't the submissive surrender of a broken woman. The moment she heard the voice of the man she longed for, she calmed—no words, just a few soft sighs.

"We don't know how this battle will end," Leon said as he cast a healing spell on her. His tone was engaged yet puzzled.

Most of the hunters had fallen back—which was for the best. No need for more casualties. He stayed alone, able to push on despite the fatigue, the most determined, the noblest in spirit, the strongest and steadiest of them all.

When he saw "The White Death" closing in on him, he steeled himself and unleashed torrents of sacred light arrows. It looked like the dragon was slain under that barrage… but it rose again, its jaws wide open—more evil and terrifying than ever.

"I almost had him," Leon thought… but then he questioned himself: Was that even true?

Because the one who really confronted the dragon was that pale figure. Leon knew him all too well. He was supposed to be dead. But it was the Knight—that Tyrant.

Leon whispered to himself as realization dawned: "The Tyrant has returned."

Alexander and the others had failed to make the right call about him… Yet, despite everything, Leon saw no trace of malice in the Knight, no evil aura. In fact, he was genuinely helping. So Leon wondered: why?

The Knight drove the dragon back at the peak of its power—but he, and Leon, understood that this aura and strength were just remnants of a fading past. They were disappearing now. Enough to fell the dragon here and now… but later? It wouldn't be enough.

Crash… the sound of marble shattering echoed around them.

From afar, the dragon rose again—teeth bared, fury blazing when it caught the scent. It recognized him… the same man.

The very one who wiped out its mighty dragon siblings ten thousand years ago.

The one it has hated ever since those massacres, ever since the fall of its great family.

Even though the ancient dragon died and was reborn from its egg, its hatred stayed. The memory never faded. It knew exactly who had to die.

"Do you know how much pain you caused us?"

The Dragon Lady hissed, holding her sister's hand, her pale face alight with bloodthirsty delight.

"Do you know how much emptiness you left when you fell from the sky—like a devil ? When you slaughtered our kin? Only my sister and I survived… after you butchered us and our brood thousands of years ago!"

Her voice was a twisted blend of joy and rage, sorrow and vengeance…

"And now you return… it's our turn again… Knight," the other sister snarled, her pink-red eyes sharp as blades. "You were a true Tyrant. And what you did gave birth to two more—seeking redemption through your death."

She commanded the dragon with a fierce cry.

The beast couldn't contain itself—launching forward in a frenzied dive toward the Knight!

Frozen in shock, the Knight hesitated. Her words had stopped him cold. Accusations — memories he couldn't recall. Witnesses spoke of crimes he couldn't remember committing.

That pain… was sharper than the dragon's jaw, which had pierced his armor and driven him into the stone floor.

But he resisted.

Because he knew… someone needed saving.

He had to do everything he could… before he broke.

Rising to his feet, his sword burst into flame. He swung it as the dragon roared, fire and sparks everywhere—a perfect portrait of hell unleashed.

Leon rushed in to back him up, pushing the dragon back, draining its strength.

Amid the chaos, debris flew and buildings collapsed one by one.

Everything was falling apart.

Leon's shafts of light and the Knight's flaming sword burned with unrivaled power and arrogance. But the dragon—valiant and proud—fought on, fueled by its deep hatred for the Knight, its only drive keeping it from falling despite sword strikes and Leon's luminous arrows raking its flesh.

Leon and the Knight… they made a partnership that's hard to describe. Together, they brought the dragon crashing down amid a hellish inferno that wrapped the battlefield like the underworld itself.

Yet the dragon's pride refused to let it die again at the hands of the one who had doomed it and its kin ten thousand years ago. It roared for one final stand—but its body betrayed it. It fell heavily to the ground, closed its eyes slowly, and even shed a single tear… without averting its gaze from the Knight.

It had grieved when it died the first time… and now again. But this time, there was peace in its final breath.

Its mistress approached softly before Leon or the Knight could catch their breath. Her voice, heavy with resolve, soothed him:

"Let me take your revenge—forgive your heart, rest now. From this moment on, everything is in my hands."

With that, the dragon closed its eyes forever. Its body dissolved into soft pink flames, cradling it like a loving mother returning it gently to nothingness.

Then she stood, and behind her was her silent sister—the fierce-eyed girl—facing the Knight directly.

In a deep, rough voice laced with anger, she spoke:

"Today… Signe, sister, we claim our right to vengeance. A reckoning centuries overdue."

She glanced at her sister before continuing, her tone heavy:

"Allow me… to unleash myself. Step back."

Flames erupted around her, pink fire spiraling up through the heart of The Platinum Keystone—growing hotter, more suffocating