You never truly appreciate the sheer absurdity of a high yellow core's strength—not even red, mind you—until you witness someone reduce the pavement to rubble just to catapult themselves onto the second floor of a building on the far side of the street. It’s all very theatrical until said someone starts hurtling toward you like a bloody cannonball. Mid-flight, he crashed below, wings flailing as though he’d forgotten how to fly. Noted for future reference. He didn’t quite manage to land where I was perched, but he made a fine mess of the ground beneath me. That was my cue to vacate.
Without a second thought, my hands morphed into claws as I launched myself towards the next building, talons sinking into the rock with satisfying precision. Barely a heartbeat later, an explosion tore through the spot I’d so prudently abandoned. A hailstorm of debris followed, some of it slicing through my cloak. Annoying, yes, but mostly superficial. Mostly.
“Bloody hell!” I muttered, scrabbling my way higher onto another rooftop. This was all going spectacularly pear-shaped. The bastard knew I was here. How, exactly, Iron had sniffed me out was a mystery—I’d been quite diligently inconspicuous. Maybe he had some sort of detection skill. No matter. What mattered was thinking on my feet.
The air thickened with heat and dust, punctuated by the ominous scrape and crunch of Iron stirring below. Escape routes, then. I scanned my options. Running across rooftops? Viable—after all, I was nimble enough—but problematic. Air Sense was feeding me a steady stream of information, including the soft breaths of beastkin tucked away inside the surrounding homes. And Iron was no precision weapon; he was a bloody wrecking ball. Running meant collateral damage. Too much of it.
This was supposed to be a low-risk mission. Just a quick in-and-out, not a bloody moral dilemma where I had to weigh my survival against innocent casualties. No. No rooftop hopping for me. I’d have to keep this fight contained.
Which left me with one option: biding my time.
Not ideal, but it bought me time to come up with something better. Preferably after a proper chat with Lotte, who was bound to have thoughts on this particular fiasco. For now, I’d settle for not getting obliterated while the Enforcers took their sweet time. Besides, I wasn’t entirely defenceless. My skills—my Technique—would suffice.
I focused, feeling the latent power of the Phantom Dragon Dance simmering beneath the surface. But patience, Jade. Not yet. Through the haze of smoke and crumbled stone, I could sense him standing there, waiting. Fine by me. Two could play that game.
My fingers drifted over my cloak until they found the dagger I’d laced with poison earlier. A neat little weapon, though hardly my forte—I was far better with claws than blades. Still, the temptation to shift into dragon form and give this bastard a proper thrashing was nearly unbearable. Deep breath. Calm.
The instant Iron so much as twitched in the smoke, I triggered the Phantom Dragon Dance. A familiar ripple ran through me as my body synced with the 4th dimension, the distortion aura cloaking me in a shroud of flickering unreality.
Now, the real dance began.
I felt it before I saw it—through the fine edge of my heightened perception. The air pressure shifted, a surge of heat on my skin giving me just enough warning. I moved on instinct, sidestepping as a massive fireball roared past me, close enough to singe the edges of my cloak. It smashed into the rooftop behind me, showering the air with debris and sparks.
No time for self-congratulations on my nimble footwork. He was already upon me.
The temperature soared, the sharp tang of scorched metal stinging my nose. His claw, cloaked in white-hot flame, swept toward my chest like a blazing guillotine.
I dropped low, claws scraping against the rooftop tiles as I twisted beneath his swing. The heat radiated over me, blistering even without contact—a truly generous furnace impersonation. Using my momentum, I struck upward at his exposed flank, a counter as swift as it was calculated.
Contact! But not the satisfying tear of flesh I’d hoped for. Instead, the grating screech of claw meeting reinforced scale, sparks flying in defiance of my effort. His hide was tougher than I expected. Still, the impact was enough to send him stumbling. I still had my strength stat, after all. And as I darted backward, the Echo of my strike surged after him, this time rewarded with the faintest trickle of blood. A promising start.
He recovered faster than seemed fair, fixing me with a draconic glare that could curdle milk. Then came his guttural growl.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Ah, the timeless question. I, of course, wore a mask—a plain white affair adorned with a whimsical flower motif, the sort of thing one finds at market stalls. A bit of alchemical reinforcement, a touch of enchantment, and voilà: perfect for keeping one’s mysteries intact. I stared back, saying nothing. Did he truly expect introductions?
No matter. His wings flared, sending a burst of ash and embers spiraling into the night as he lunged, leading with a sweeping claw meant to herd me straight into his follow-up. Clever. Brutal. Predictable.
But I wasn’t in the mood to play by his rules.
I feinted, slipping under his reach and springing upward, my claws sinking into a chimney wall. Using it for leverage, I flipped over his head, landing behind him with the precision of a cat. My claws, primed and waiting, raked across the base of his wings, and this time, oh yes, they found purchase. Flesh gave way, and he roared—a sound so guttural it rattled the tiles beneath us. A part of me noted the similarities to my own roar, though his was... umm, I'd call it the budget version.
He retaliated instantly, his flaming talons slashing out in a vicious arc. I barely had time to disengage, the force of his kick reducing the rooftop where I’d stood to splinters. I landed in a crouch, breath measured but quick, eyes fixed on him as he turned to face me. Smoke curled from his scorched wings, and I took a moment to admire the dark, ragged tear I’d left behind.
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“I’m asking you again. Tell me who the fuck you are. Maybe I’ll fuck you up less.”
I tilted my head, flexing my claws in a silent reply. What could I say? My mystery was part of my charm.
He didn’t take the hint.
With a feral bellow, he charged, his flaming claw outstretched like a molten spear. This time, I waited. Let him think he’d caught me flat-footed. At the last possible moment, I activated Phasing. My form shimmered, flickering like a half-forgotten dream, and his claw passed clean through where I’d been. Heat washed over me, searing yet harmless as I slipped into that adjacent layer of reality.
Reappearing at his flank, I drove my claws into his side, twisting with relish. His howl of pain was music to my ears, though I was already gone by the time he spun to retaliate. The Echo of my strike followed, deepening the wound further.
Some games were worth playing, but stalling wasn’t one of them—not when the stakes were this high. I was whittling him down, sure, but the truth was plain: chip damage wasn’t going to end this. One glance at my stamina reserves told me I had more than enough in the tank to keep going, especially with my stats compensating for what my partial transformation lacked in organ functionality. Unless I made a fatal mistake, he wasn’t touching me.
And he knew it.
I caught the flicker of frustration in his eyes after our exchange. He wasn’t endless on mana, not at the rate he was throwing it around. High yellow. But did he still have enough in the tank to pull something disastrous? My instincts didn’t have time to answer before they screamed at me to move.
The rooftop where I’d stood vanished in a fiery explosion, the shockwave knocking me sideways. As the smoke and debris cleared, he stepped out fully shifted, and my stomach turned.
Wings spread wide, silver scales catching the glow of the flames, muscles rippling with raw power. His tail lashed behind him, sinuous and wicked. The smell of rot hit like a punch, clawing at my senses. My instincts surged, primal and loud, demanding blood.
INTRUDER. ELIMINATE HIM. RIP HIM APART. KILL HIM. MURDER HIM.
I clenched my claws, forcing the surge of rage down. Not now. His mouth opened, and a stream of fire erupted, roaring toward me.
I sprinted sideways, barely staying ahead of the inferno as the flames chewed through the rooftop in my wake. The heat seared my skin, but I kept moving, darting between crumbling chimneys and shattered tiles. He twisted his head, adjusting his aim, but I zigzagged to make myself harder to track.
He lunged, closing the distance in a heartbeat, his flaming claws slashing down. I pivoted on instinct, the ground cracking beneath the force of his strike as I evaded by inches. My claws raked across his forearm in retaliation, but his scales turned the blow aside, leaving only a faint scratch. Echo followed but the wound wasn’t much deeper.
His tail whipped around. A blur of muscle. I ducked, feeling it whistle past overhead, before I sprang upward, using the momentum to drive a clawed kick into his ribs. The impact jarred my leg, but I heard the crunch of something giving way.
He snarled, spinning, his wings buffeting me with enough force to send me skidding back. I barely caught my footing before his jaws snapped shut where my head had been. A brutal swipe followed, but I phased, his claw passing harmlessly through me as I blinked to his flank.
This time, I struck low, claws digging into the tendon at his hind leg. Blood spattered the tiles, and his roar shook the air. He whirled, his tail arcing toward me again.
No time to dodge. I raised my arms to block, the force of the hit sending me crashing into a nearby chimney. It crumbled on impact, dust and debris clouding my vision. I scrambled up, ignoring the ache in my limbs, just as he came barreling forward.
I sidestepped his charge, pivoting to slash at his exposed wing joint. My claws caught, tearing through membrane and sending him off balance. He staggered, but not for long.
His claws came down in a punishing double strike, forcing me into another phase. The moment I reappeared, I didn’t hesitate. I launched upward, claws gleaming as I raked across his neck. This time, I felt the satisfying give of flesh. Blood spilled, thick and dark, staining the air with its acrid tang. Echo followed, carving deeper into the wound, and his roar shook the rooftop—a feral, unrestrained bellow. Flames burst from his maw in erratic jets, wild and furious.
I ducked low, closing the gap, and drove a claw swipe at his chest. The strike landed, but his scales held firm, deflecting the worst of it. Still, the force knocked him off balance, just enough for Echo to land a heartbeat later, slicing into his side.
That one hit harder than I’d expected. He staggered, crashing down into the rooftop with a force that splintered wood and tiles alike.
I wasn’t about to give him time to recover. I sprang forward, claws aimed for his eyes—
My mistake.
He was ready. My instincts screamed a split second too late. His tail, wreathed in flame, slammed into my side with brutal precision.
Too late to dodge. Too late to phase. The impact was devastating, amplified by my own momentum. Pain detonated through me as his tail drove into my stomach, forcing a strangled yelp from my throat.
Before I could regroup, a flaming fist followed, catching me square in the chest and sending me flying.
I crashed through the rooftop with a bone-shaking impact, slamming through beams and splintered wood. Pain flared white-hot, so overwhelming it left me momentarily numb.
FUCK.
I gasped as I hit the second floor, crumpling amid a cascade of debris, then fell further, landing in a graceless heap on the ground floor.
My claws trembled as I clutched my side, sharp stabs of agony cutting through every breath. Something was broken—several somethings, by the feel of it. My durability stat wasn’t worth much in this form, clearly.
Or maybe my damn dragon scales were just that absurdly strong in comparison.
Stupid fucking humanoid bodies.
I forced myself to move, pain stabbing through every joint as I staggered to my feet. My vision swam, shapes and colors blurring into a mess. But one thing was clear. His massive, hulking form advancing toward me.
Iron.
I could just make out his monstrous silhouette.
Yeah, that’s it. Come on, then.
With trembling fingers, I reached for the metal band on my wrist, a ruby-like gem gleaming faintly on it. Shifting was the last resort, but it was looking more tempting by the second.
Then, out of nowhere, a massive blur smashed into Iron with the force of a runaway freight train. The impact sent his towering form careening across the floor, skidding through broken beams and debris.
What the hell—
Before I could fully register what was happening, the blur hit him again, this time grabbing his tail like it was nothing more than a rope. It swung him around and slammed him into the ground. Once. Twice. Thrice.
Each impact rattled the ground, the sounds of colliding echoing like thunder. It was brutal, almost comical, not unlike a kid bashing a toy against the ground just to see it break.
I clung to a shattered beam for balance, claws retracting into trembling fingers as I teetered between blacking out and staying upright. Shifting could wait. For now.
Then I heard it—a whoop so exuberant it felt like it could shake the debris loose from the rafters.
“WOOOOHOOOO! REINFORCEMENTS HAVE ARRIVED!”
A voice. Feminine. Loud. And entirely too cheerful for the carnage unfolding.