Reborn as a Devouring Dragon with a System
Chapter 157: The Battle (8)

Chapter 157: The Battle (8)

When the young man saw the evil grin on Drakion’s face, a deep, primal chill surged down his spine.

Only he could understand the terror of what had just happened.

He couldn’t remember anything about the rope dart—

Nothing at all.

That confusion alone unsettled him.

It wasn’t until the memories slowly began to return that he realized just how deep in hell he truly was.

It was as if a part of his very soul had been erased...

for just a fleeting moment.

The Fang of Oblivion Echo—

This was the first black fang of Drakion’s golden eyeball.

Its power: to erase specific memories from a being’s soul—

skills, identities, even relationships—gone like smoke in the wind.

And then...

The second fang,

Fang of Soul Dominion,

Its power: to bind and enslave weakened souls, turning fallen enemies into eternal soul-servants.

As he stared at Drakion’s wicked grin, another chill pierced his spine.

Yes, he had made a grave mistake—

He believed the power Drakion had used so far was the full extent of his strength.

He was wrong.

The young man’s eyes widened—

Drakion’s aura shifted in the next moment.

It turned darker.

Bloodier.

A malicious force that screamed of torment and slaughter.

Then it happened—

Fangs grew from his teeth,

sharpening into twisted weapons of flesh,

making Drakion appear more demonic than dragon.

What the young man didn’t know...

was that Drakion could awaken another Draconic Bloodline,

and now—

he was about to taste it.

Suddenly, Originat converted into blood.

It flowed like rivers through the air,

forming a crown of blood atop Drakion’s head,

coated in dense killing intent.

His eyes gleamed—

not with light,

but as though they had been soaked in blood.

His aura surged as if a shackle had been torn away.

Memories returned—

The first memory...

Daniel, when he became a Vampire,

and the Emperor of Demons.

The double scythes in Drakion’s hands were now drenched in blood,

radiating the energy of butchery and damnation.

The young man saw this...

and for the first time,

his expression hardened.

He had tested his theory and confirmed it—

Drakion couldn’t yet draw out the full extent of his abilities...

but even these incomplete powers were enough to shake him.

The last fang’s ability—though not at full force—

still affected him,

and that realization weighed heavy.

Drakion lifted one of his blood-soaked scythes to the sky—

And then,

the heavens trembled.

Bubbles of blood filled the sky,

each one radiating a malevolent aura.

The young man could feel it—

a killing technique like no other.

Drakion didn’t give him time to think.

With a mere gesture,

he sent all of them hurtling down at once.

Before the young man could act,

he heard rapid explosions around him—

They weren’t just blood bubbles.

They were bombs.

He conjured a layered defense,

trying to destroy them before detonation—

But to his shock,

destroying them only triggered their blast.

After barely surviving the barrage,

he looked around...

Drakion’s figure was gone.

A spike of instinct—

danger.

He turned quickly, spinning his rope dart backward with a flick of will—

and it struck something.

He felt it pierce flesh.

When he turned his head—

he saw Drakion impaled behind him.

A clean hit.

But something was wrong.

The danger didn’t fade.

It intensified.

His body screamed in warning.

His heart pounded violently.

Then—

BOOM!

Drakion’s body exploded into blood mist.

It was a clone.

A blood clone used to deceive him—

and Drakion had never been where he struck.

The truth sank in too late.

He moved to defend again,

though he was already behind...

Then,

a pressure unlike anything before crashed down on him—

not on his body,

but directly on his soul.

It tried to hijack it,

corrupt it—

twist it.

He froze.

And in that frozen moment—

Drakion struck.

Drakion struck with his scythe—

a deadly arc that slashed through the air, hijacking the young man’s very flesh and soul.

Before the young man could even comprehend what had happened,

he found himself flung high into the air,

his scales peeled,

his flesh torn,

his body scarred by the scythe’s touch.

Pain surged through him—

not just from the wounds,

but from the sensation of his blood being absorbed,

drained directly into the weapon like a sacrifice.

He was sent crashing down,

a brutal impact that carved a deep crater into the ground.

His limbs trembled,

his body weakened—

just for a moment.

"Shit... why the hell is he so powerful?"

The young man clenched his teeth,

spitting blood and frustration.

Frustration that stemmed not from pain—

but from the fact that he couldn’t unleash his true strength,

and was being overwhelmed

by someone he believed he could handle with just one hand.

If not for the restrictions of this world...

If not for the balance of this realm...

he would have crushed this entire continent by now.

To provoke this world was madness.

To challenge its very essence—

folly.

Now, over thousands of miles around them had been reduced to lifeless desert—

a wasteland forged by their clash.

And across the Origin Continent,

from every point near and far,

all could sense the battle raging here.

The young man pushed himself to his feet—

unsteady but defiant.

But before he could even assess his surroundings—

"Oh shit!"

What came into view—

was a blood thorn and a blood bomb descending upon him.

BOOM!

He was once again blasted into the earth,

kissing the ground as if the world itself sought to bury him.

And then—

What the Five Element Dragon and the others saw made their eyes widen.

Two figures stood where the young man had fallen—

each one watching Drakion with wary, calculating eyes.

But Quin and the Five Element Dragon noticed something—

The clone beside the real one...

held only fifty percent of his current power.

At the same moment,

two figures emerged beside Drakion as well—

each one his clone,

their eyes locked onto the young man’s duplicate with fierce vigilance.

The young man had forged his clone using Draconic power—

a divine extension of himself.

Drakion’s clones, however,

were born from blood—

dark, twisted, and primal.

Just as the battle threatened to erupt anew,

when the tension grew thick and the air itself vibrated with anticipation—

Suddenly—

A massive rune ignited in the sky,

encircling Drakion and his clones at its heart.

Its shape pulsed with ancient force,

and etched into its surface were nine draconic designs,

each more intricate and powerful than the last.

The others stared—

curious...

suspicious...

uneasy.

Even Drakion himself stood frozen—

baffled as he watched the rune form around him,

his instincts screaming caution.

But before he could so much as blink—

CLANG!

Nine chains burst forth from the glowing rune,

each one a serpent of restraint,

a chain of judgment,

and they lashed toward Drakion with terrifying speed—

binding him.

Held down.

Trapped.

Caught in the grip of something far older...

and far more dangerous than even he could understand.