The massive, bronze-scaled dragon was flung through the air like a discarded toy, its colossal form crashing through the skeletons of two towering buildings before plummeting heavily into a mountain of rubble. The sound of crushing stone and a pained roar echoed across the battlefield.
The enormous body dissolved into faint, shimmering specks of light, leaving Morgan sprawled amid the debris, his limbs twisted at unnatural angles. A deep, radiating pain pulsed through every bone in his body, so intense it blurred his vision.
He tried to push himself up, but his arms refused to obey. The searing agony in his chest made each breath a razor-sharp struggle.
Gritting his teeth, Morgan forced his eyes open, struggling to focus on the nightmarish scene ahead.
The monster known as Ultimate Fear continued its relentless advance, crushing the Dragon Kings one by one as if they were nothing more than insignificant insects. With a casual, contemptuous sweep of its gargantuan wings, it knocked a silver streak—Rossweise—out of the sky. It then stooped, its clawed hand closing around Isha, who had just clawed her way out of the earth, and slammed the Crimson Dragon Queen back into the ground with earth-shattering force. Without even a pause, it began dragging Isha's massive dragon form across the ruined cityscape, carving deep, smoldering trenches into the ground amidst flying debris, splattered dragon blood, and raging fire.
The air was a symphony of torment, filled with the piercing, agonized cries of dragons and the cacophonous sound of pure chaos.
Every being on this battlefield was among the strongest of their kind, kings and queens of their clans. And yet, before the Ultimate Fear, they were as fragile and insignificant as ants.
Morgan could feel it clearly—a sinister energy swelling with every cry of pain, every surge of despair. "This battle... it's only making it stronger," he gasped, each word a effort.
"The Silver Dragon Prince said we need to defeat it before it absorbs any more negative energy..."
With a deep, shuddering breath that sent fresh waves of pain through his ribs, he forced his trembling body into a sitting position, wiping the blood from his mouth with a dirty sleeve. His unwavering gaze, however, remained locked on the monstrosity. "But at this rate... forget defeating it, we can barely stall it."
"Morgan! Morgan! Are you alright?" a frantic voice called out from nearby.
Morgan turned his head slowly, squinting through the thick haze of dust and smoke. "It's you, Simon."
The Tower Master of Sky City rushed over, his usual composure gone, and grabbed Morgan's arm to help steady him. "How badly are you hurt?"
Morgan glanced down at his battered and bloodied body, then back up at Simon with a wry, pained smile. "Isn't it obvious?"
"Ah... sorry, let me heal you," Simon said hastily, his hands beginning to glow with a soft, green restorative light.
Before he could begin, Morgan's hand shot out, gripping Simon's wrist with surprising strength. "Don't," Morgan stated firmly. "Don't waste your magic on me. My strength alone won't be enough to turn this fight around."
Simon hesitated, disbelief and frustration flashing across his aged face. "Even you can't make a difference?"
Despite Morgan's usually flippant and teasing demeanor—often poking fun at Leon and acting as if nothing ever fazed him—he was a Dragon King who had risen to power alongside Odin in an age of legends. Though not quite as overwhelmingly powerful as the Thunder Dragon King, Morgan was undeniably among the most formidable of their kind.
For him to admit defeat so plainly… It hammered home the sheer, incomprehensible strength of their enemy.
"Simon," Morgan began, his voice laced with both genuine curiosity and deep skepticism, "you and that old thunderhead Odin mentioned the 'Child of Thunder' earlier. Are you absolutely certain it's the Silver Dragon Prince?"
Simon nodded, his expression firm and resolute. "The prophecy was clear. Before the arrival of the Ultimate Fear, the Child of Thunder would foresee multiple outcomes in their dreams. The prince has been tormented by such prophetic nightmares for weeks now. He is undoubtedly the one the prophecy speaks of."
"And yet..." Morgan narrowed his eyes, staring at Leon's distant figure as he coordinated another assault with Rossweise. "If the prophecy is true, then where is this so-called change? The Ultimate Fear has descended, the world teeters on the brink, and nothing has happened. Are you sure you and that old thunderhead didn't misinterpret some ancient, cryptic poetry?"
He muttered under his breath, almost to himself, "Maybe I'm the Child of Thunder. I've been having nightmares too, you know... about my gold reserves depleting..."
Simon let out a long, exasperated sigh, shaking his head. "Believe me, Morgan. The prince is the one. And he will be the one to defeat the Ultimate Fear."
As the words left his mouth, a deafening roar, distinctly Leon's, echoed across the battlefield, accompanied by a brilliant, world-illuminating flash of lightning.
CRACK-BOOM!
A resounding crash followed, and for the first time, the Ultimate Fear itself staggered backward, its towering body swaying precariously, nearly toppling over.
Moments later, a dazzling array of seven-colored light—Rossweise's Soul Judgment—enveloped the battlefield, encasing the colossal entity in its radiant, purifying glow. Through sheer tenacity and perfectly timed precision, Leon and his queen had managed to turn the tide, if only for a moment.
As Rossweise landed back on the ground, her legs wavered, and she nearly collapsed. Leon darted forward in a blur of motion, catching her before she could fall.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice thick with concern as he held her upright.
Rossweise adjusted her stance, rubbing her temple as she steadied herself. "I'm fine... just a little drained." Her silver dragon scales, still visibly recovering from a previous injury, hadn't fully reformed. Even with the aid of the dragon sigils Leon bore, which acted as external batteries for her magical energy, the intensity of the battle was rapidly depleting her vast reserves.
Isha, battered and bleeding but still burning with fiery spirit, limped over to them. After a quick, assessing glance at her sister, she turned to Leon. "Brother-in-law, your magic reserves must be running low by now too, right?"
Leon wiped a fresh trail of blood from the corner of his mouth, his expression grimly resolute. "Not yet. Rossweise and I made extra preparations for this fight. Our reserves are still holding."
"Extra preparations?" Isha tilted her head, a curious glint breaking through the exhaustion in her eyes. Despite the blood and grime smudging her face, she couldn't hide the knowing, slightly teasing smirk that crept onto her lips. "Well, aren't you two resourceful." She chuckled weakly, the sound turning into a cough, before her gaze shifted back to the recovering Ultimate Fear. Her tone sobered instantly. "Even so, we still don't have a solution for that thing. If this drags on any longer—"
Her words were cut off by the sound of intense, desperate fighting from the perimeter where the human forces held the line.
"Rebecca! Watch out behind you!"
"I'm heading to support Nacho's flank! You hold this position!"
"The Walker Squad has taken heavy losses! We need backup immediately!"
Isha swallowed hard, the reality of their situation settling like a stone in her gut. Her eyes lowered as she finished her terrible thought. "If this drags on, everyone here will die."
There was no exaggeration in her voice. She, a Dragon Queen who had lived for centuries, could feel the full, horrifying extent of the Ultimate Fear's overwhelming power. Its physical strength, its boundless magical output, and its sheer, reality-warping presence were all on a level far beyond anything they had ever faced or even conceived.
Leon knew this all too well. Even with the dragon sigils, Rossweise's ultimate technique, and their combined arsenal of S-class and primordial magic, any other opponent would have been annihilated ten times over. But against the Ultimate Fear, their most devastating attacks were little more than irritating scratches.
His gaze remained locked on the monstrous figure now shaking off the last remnants of the seven-colored light. It seemed even more agitated, more enraged than before.
"Soul Judgment didn't weaken it," Rossweise said softly, her voice strained. "If anything, it only made it angrier."
"As expected of an entity that is the direct opposite and counterpart to primordial order magic," Leon replied, his jaw tight. "Using such magic against it seems to only fuel its chaos, drive it further."
Boom!
Several figures landed heavily nearby, their arrival shaking the ground. Odin and Noah had returned, alongside Constantine and Claudia.
Constantine folded his massive, scorched wings and crouched to set an utterly exhausted Noah gently on the ground before standing upright to address Leon, his voice a gravelly rumble. "We've been locked in a stalemate with Shadow. He's frustratingly adept at prolonged battles of attrition. If this continues, he'll wear us down completely. We came to see if we should change tactics."
Covered in dust, soot, and a myriad of injuries, both Odin and Claudia looked just as worn as Constantine. His words weren't an exaggeration; everyone was pushed to their absolute limits.
Noah, having been forced to deactivate her primordial mode, wobbled as she tried to stand, only to collapse forward, her strength completely spent.
Leon moved instantly, catching her and holding her gently in his arms.
"Sorry, Dad..." Noah murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "The time limit on primordial mode... it's still too short..."
The battle had already lasted over an hour, far exceeding the duration and intensity of any of Noah's previous training sessions. The fact that she had lasted this long against such a foe was nothing short of a miracle.
Leon could understand her pain and exhaustion better than anyone. He reached out with a trembling, bloodied hand, gently wiping the dirt and sweat from his daughter's pale face. His voice was soft, filled with a father's unwavering love and reassurance. "You've done well, Noah. You've done more than enough. Now leave the rest to me."
"Kid..." Odin interjected, still struggling to catch his breath, his own body trembling from overexertion. He forced his voice to be calm, authoritative. "This isn't the time to play the lone hero. We need a strategy, not a suicide charge."
"This enemy... it's far too strong. Our chances of winning... maybe thirty percent, at best."
At Odin's grim assessment, the other Dragon Kings fell into a heavy silence, lowering their heads in grim acknowledgment. They knew the Thunder Dragon King was not one for exaggeration. If anything, thirty percent was a hopeful, generous estimate. In the cold reality of the battlefield, their true chances likely didn't even reach that number.
A thick, suffocating despair began to settle over the gathered leaders.
Morgan and Isha were gravely injured, their combat effectiveness shattered. Rossweise was visibly trembling, unable to sustain her dragon form much longer. Odin, Constantine, and Claudia were pushed to the brink of exhaustion, their magical reserves critically low. And Noah, their wildcard, had reached her absolute limit, unconscious and unable to re-enter her primordial state.
In just over an hour, Shadow and the Ultimate Fear had demonstrated what it truly meant to be an unstoppable force. For the first time, Leon and his allies were on the receiving end of overwhelming power they could not match.
"The Thunder Dragon King is still far too confident in your side's abilities," a hoarse, mocking voice called out from the shadow of the looming Ultimate Fear.
Shadow emerged, his hands clasped casually behind his back as he strolled toward the devastated group. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, the picture of a victor surveying his work.
"Thirty percent? Hmm. Let's be generous." Shadow paused, dramatically extending his arms. A wave of dark, oppressive energy swept across the battlefield, briefly illuminating the weary, bloodied faces of the Dragon Kings. His eyes, full of contempt, finally locked onto Leon. He finished his sentence with a cold, definitive sneer.
"Ten percent."
Retracting his arms, Shadow continued in a tone of mockingly casual conversation.
"As far as lower life forms go, you've done well to last this long."
"And Leon, I must commend you on your ability to gather so many willing to sacrifice themselves for your cause. Impressive leadership skills, truly."
"But numbers mean nothing against the Ultimate Fear. Fighting it is no different from an egg smashing against a rock."
"Restarting this world isn't complicated. All I need to do is kill you all and eliminate anyone foolish enough to resist."
Shadow's voice was calm, almost conversational, as if he were discussing the weather. In his eyes, life held no intrinsic value. He and the Ultimate Fear were kindred spirits—beings of pure destruction, slaughter, and chaos.
His words poured salt into the wounds of despair already festering in the hearts of the allies.
The searing pain of their injuries, the bitter taste of their helplessness, and the rising, impotent fury in their hearts—all of it pushed them to speak, but the weight of their circumstances strangled the words in their throats.
"Many of you must have heard of the prophecy about the Child of Thunder." Shadow's voice took on a taunting lilt. "Even now, in your final moments, you cling to that childish legend, hoping it will swoop down and save you."
"Pathetic."
His gaze never left Leon. Though his words seemed directed at the group, it was clear that the former Dragon Slayer was his true psychological target. To Shadow, the other Dragon Kings were already irrelevant. All he needed to do was shatter their last pillar of hope, and total victory would be his.
"So, before you all die, I'd like to ask—who do you believe this Child of Thunder is?"
Shadow's question dripped with malicious intent, his desire to torment them evident in every syllable.
"Is it Odin?" He glanced at the thunder king. "It doesn't seem to be him."
"Perhaps... that little girl?" He gestured toward Noah, unconscious in Isabella's protective arms.
"She's already passed out. Clearly, it can't be her."
"Then... is it you, Leon Cosmodeous?"
Shadow began to chuckle, a dry, raspy sound that grew louder and more twisted with each passing second.
"How ridiculous. How could you possibly be the Child of Thunder, Leon?"
"You're nothing more than a ghost who should have died eight years ago in that ambush."
"A man who stumbled into eight years of borrowed time, living on stolen moments."
"Your family, your wife, your daughters... all just a beautiful dream you've mistaken for reality."
"Shut up!"
The voice that ripped through the air wasn't Leon's, nor was it Isha's fiery retort.
It was Rossweise.
Her silver eyes, though clouded with exhaustion, trembled with a new, fierce light as she stepped forward, glaring at Shadow with a mix of pure fury and unyielding resolve.
"So what if we're weak?! So what if my husband was given a second chance?!"
Her voice was fierce, cracking with emotion, but beneath the anger was a bedrock of strength forged from love and shared memories.
"You can trample this world however you please! You can mock us for being fragile and fleeting!"
"But I will never allow you to insult my husband or my daughter!"
She stood there, battered but unbroken, a beacon of defiant light shining brightest at the moment it was most needed.
Leon watched her, momentarily stunned into silence. His mind flashed back through the years, to when she was still the cold, aloof, and untouchable Silver Dragon Queen—distant, isolated, and indifferent to the world around her.
It was their unlikely union, their "false" family that had begun as a transaction, that had changed her. She had opened her heart to new ideas, to new bonds, and to him.
She had often said that Leon had changed her life.
But Leon had always wanted to tell her that, in so many ways, she had been his guiding light, showing him a path forward when he was lost in darkness and vengeance. The bond they shared, the simple, profound word "spouse," had become the foundation strong enough for them to overcome any trial, any despair.
Shadow hesitated, visibly caught off guard by Rossweise's fiery rebuttal. He hadn't expected such a potent, emotional counter-attack from someone who should have been completely broken.
But he quickly recovered, his lips curling into a derisive smirk. "Are you finished? Such sentimental nonsense... it's the kind of childish drivel I hate the most."
"Don't tell me you think a few impassioned words will summon the legendary Child of Thunder. Don't make me laugh."
Shadow pointed a condemning finger directly at Leon, his voice dripping with venom. "Fate will never choose a relic like you. Abandon your last shred of false hope, and at least you'll die without any more regrets."
Leon remained silent. He turned and carefully handed the unconscious Noah to Constantine, ensuring she was secure. Then, he stepped forward, moving to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his queen.
He reached out and took Rossweise's cold, trembling hand in his own. Their gazes met for a brief, electric moment—a universe of understanding passing between them—before they turned in unison to face Shadow.
"I never believed fate would choose me," Leon said, his voice calm but layered with an iron resolve that echoed across the silent battlefield.
A surge of raw electricity crackled to life at their feet. A brilliant, shimmering silver energy began to envelop them both, rising from the ground like an aurora.
Rossweise spread her magnificent dragon wings wide, her silver aura radiating with a power that seemed to draw strength from her very soul. Simultaneously, the dragon marks on Leon's body began to glow with a fierce, internal light, the stored primordial energy reacting to their combined will.
Looking directly into Shadow's stunned eyes, Leon spoke, his words steady, deliberate, and final.
"Because I am the one who chooses fate."
As his voice fell, the very air exploded with power. A massive, ethereal silver dragon manifest not just from Rossweise, but from their united spirits, its colossal form wreathed in cascading, primordial lightning.
Using Rossweise's dragon form as the foundation, they had fused their power, their will, and their souls into a single entity—a being capable of standing against the apocalypse.
Leon stood poised atop the silver dragon's head, the stormy clouds above churning and roiling in response to his unleashed power. The ground itself shook as the dragon's aura reached an unprecedented, terrifying peak.
Odin stared, his jaw slightly agape, the awe in his whisper carried away by the rising wind. "So that... is the true power of the Child of Thunder."
The magnificent silver dragon, wreathed in a storm of its own creation, spread its wings wide to their fullest extent. Thunder and wind roared their approval across the shattered battlefield.
S-Class Combined Technique: Dragon Mastery.