"Heaven Defier," Greg called softly, his sword manifesting in his hands.
"Let's go for a spin," Greg shouted, moving extremely fast toward the demonic drake. The demonic drake charged at Greg as well until they collided—but Greg wasn't the one sent flying. The drake was.
Greg swung his sword, cutting a large wound across the chest of the demonic drake.
The drake let out a loud roar, furious, and released a large fire blast from its mouth.
Greg simply stood still, allowing the attack to pass through him. He wasn't going to be stupid; the talent was his. Fighting without it? Yeah, never happening again.
Climbing the back of the drake, Greg stabbed its neck. The drake roared in pain, trying to throw Greg off, but Greg was adamant, refusing to be dislodged. He pierced his claws deeply into the drake's flesh to support himself and prevent falling off.
The drake tried to shake Greg off using every means it could think of, but none worked.
