Ebruhan roared.
Not hesitation. Not fear.
A full dragon roar that shook the prison chamber itself.
Blue mana exploded around him as he launched forward, claws tearing across the stone floor.
Fast.
Very fast.
His front claws swung with enough force to split armor, the sheer pressure slicing through the air and sending dust and shattered stone sideways like a storm.
A direct strike.
No holding back.
The impact blasted through the chamber—
BOOM.
Dust swallowed everything.
Silence.
For one second—
hope.
Then the dust cleared.
And Ebruhan's eyes widened.
Varkryth hadn't moved.
Not even an inch.
His left arm was raised casually—
and Ebruhan's strike was stopped there.
Blocked.
Caught.
Like it was nothing.
No strain. No effort.
Just… held.
Varkryth looked at the claws against his arm.
Then back at Ebruhan.
His expression was almost disappointed.
"That all?"
Before Ebruhan could react—
Varkryth grabbed his foreleg.
One-handed.
Like lifting a troublesome child.
And then—
THREW.
BOOOOM—
Ebruhan crashed into the far wall hard enough to split stone, the entire chamber shaking from the impact.
Rock shattered.
Dust rained from above.
Pain exploded through his body.
Again.
Because apparently the universe enjoyed consistency.
He coughed, forcing himself up—
and Varkryth was already standing there.
Waiting.
Arms folded.
Looking genuinely unimpressed.
"Get up."
His voice echoed coldly.
"Do not make me regret offering this."
Ebruhan growled, pushing against the broken stone.
Varkryth's eyes narrowed.
"Do not make me…"
A step forward.
"…bored."
Ebruhan charged again.
Because stopping was not an option.
Blue mana flared around him as he lunged, faster this time, refusing to let fear settle into his bones.
He spun—
TAIL STRIKE.
A brutal sweep aimed straight for Varkryth's side.
Fast. Heavy. Precise.
Varkryth simply jump back.
Clean.
Effortless.
And before Ebruhan could recover—
a hand grabbed his tail.
Silence.
Ebruhan had exactly half a second to regret every life decision.
Then—
SLAM.
Varkryth swung him like a weapon and smashed him straight into the ground.
Stone shattered.
The floor cracked like glass beneath the impact.
Air left Ebruhan's lungs all at once.
But still—
he bit.
He twisted upward, jaws snapping for Varkryth's throat—
and immediately regretted that too.
Because—
BOOM.
Varkryth's fist met his face first.
A direct punch.
No magic. No technique.
Just ancient dragon strength and personal disrespect.
Ebruhan was launched sideways, skidding across broken stone.
He groaned.
Still.
Not done.
He forced mana into his chest, into pure stubbornness.
Blue energy gathered—
MANA BOMB.
Then spikes.
Then another.
A barrage of sharp, violent blue mana tore across the chamber toward Varkryth.
Fast enough to kill most dragons.
Varkryth raised one hand.
A shield formed.
Dark. Dense. Absolute.
The attacks struck—
and vanished against it.
Nothing.
Not cracked. Not shaken.
Nothing.
Silence.
Ebruhan stared.
Varkryth lowered his hand slowly.
Then sighed.
Honestly sighed.
"I do wonder…"
He walked forward through the smoke like judgment itself.
"…how you even reached this layer."
Another step.
"You killed five dragons."
Another.
" hundreds of soldiers."
Another.
"And yet…"
Purple eyes narrowed.
"…this is all?"
Ebruhan pushed himself up again, breathing hard, blood dripping from his jaw.
Every muscle hurt.
Every scale screamed.
But still—
he stood.
Because dragons are apparently allergic to surrender.
He wiped blood from his mouth.
"…I was busy killing your welcome committee."
Varkryth stopped.
Silence.
Then—
"…Hm."
A pause.
"That was mildly amusing."
Ebruhan blinked.
Was that praise?
He hated that it felt good.
Varkryth folded his arms.
"But amusing is not enough."
His voice dropped.
"If this is truly everything you have…"
A shadow moved behind his eyes.
"…then Mia placed her trust in a very disappointing dragon."
And that—
that one landed harder than every hit so far.
Varkryth turned slightly, glancing toward one of the guards stationed near the prison entrance.
"Go."
The guard straightened immediately.
"Bring my daughter from the training grounds."
No explanation. No context.
Just the kind of sentence that guaranteed future emotional damage.
The guard bowed and vanished.
Ebruhan, breathing heavily, frowned.
"…You're calling Mia here?"
Varkryth looked back at him.
"Yes."
Purple eyes calm.
"If I am going to judge the dragon she trusts…"
A pause.
"…then she should witness it herself."
That somehow felt worse.
Ebruhan exhaled slowly.
Great.
Public humiliation.
Excellent.
He closed his eyes for one second—
then shifted.
Blue scales vanished.
Dragon form compressed into human shape.
Tall. Battle-worn. Bruised. Still stubborn.
Blood still ran from the corner of his mouth.
Varkryth raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
The faintest smirk.
"Fighting fairly, I see."
Ebruhan cracked his neck.
"…No."
He vanished forward.
Fast.
Human form made for precision.
No giant claws. No brute force.
Just speed.
A straight punch for the jaw—
Varkryth blocked.
A knee strike—
stopped.
Elbow—
caught.
Every movement answered.
Every attack read.
It felt less like fighting and more like arguing with a mountain.
Ebruhan drove one final punch straight for Varkryth's face—
and Varkryth caught it midair.
Just stopped it.
Like pressing pause.
Ebruhan's eyes widened.
Varkryth's grip tightened.
Strength.
Absolute.
Relentless.
Forced downward—
Ebruhan's legs bent.
One knee hit the floor.
Stone cracked beneath him.
Humiliation included.
Varkryth looked down at him.
Disappointed.
"Still too weak."
His free hand clenched.
Then—
BOOM.
A fist slammed into Ebruhan's chest.
Air vanished from his lungs.
Pain exploded through his ribs.
He was folded up—
but before he could even folded fully—
Varkryth moved.
Too fast.
Both hands clasped together—
CRASH.
A double-handed strike slammed Ebruhan downward like a falling star.
Stone shattered.
Before the debris even settled—
Varkryth stepped in and kicked him.
Hard.
Ebruhan flew into the wall again, because apparently walls were now a recurring character.
BOOM.
He dropped to one knee.
Human form trembling.
Blood dripping from his mouth onto the stone.
Breathing hard.
Still refusing to stay down.
Varkryth walked forward slowly.
"It is becoming boring."
That one almost hurt more than the beating.
Then—
he jumped.
A full descending punch.
Ebruhan barely rolled aside in time.
The fist hit the floor—
BOOOOOOM.
The impact cracked the chamber open, stone exploding outward, the shockwave alone throwing Ebruhan backward.
He stared.
(What the hell is wrong with this old man?)
No choice now.
Fine.
If monsters wanted monsters—
Ebruhan raised his hand.
Blue mana surged.
A blade formed in his palm.
Sharp. Bright. Focused.
Mana Blade.
The prison air shifted.
Varkryth saw it.
And smiled.
"Oh?"
He stretched out his right hand to the side.
Dark mana gathered.
Heavy. Ancient. Wrong.
And from it—
an obsidian blade formed.
Black as abyssal night.
Beautiful. Terrifying.
The kind of weapon that looked like history had died inside it.
Varkryth gave it a small testing spin.
Then pointed it toward him.
"Ah…"
His smile sharpened.
"Now you bring out toys."
Purple eyes gleamed.
"Come on, Blue Dot."
The blade hummed.
"Make me entertained."