The SSS class adventurer is a divine cleric
Chapter 101: The Dragon’s Treasurer

Chapter 101: The Dragon’s Treasurer

The moment Kaitlin tried to retreat with her team, everything changed.

The air froze.

A thick, invisible pressure dropped like a hammer over the battlefield. The mana around them warp and twist, as if sucked into a black hole. Even light bent strangely at the edges of the sphere now enclosing them.

It was a domain.

Dark translucent energy laced with ink-black veins spread in every direction, stretching into a full kilometer of warped terrain. The skies dimmed. The ground cracked. Every communication device went silent.

For a second, everyone froze, not just in fear, but literally.

Their bodies refused to respond. Legs heavy. Breathing shallow. It wasn’t paralysis, it was domination. The Tyrant’s will had taken control.

It stood tall at the center of it all.

No longer in its beast form, the creature had shrunk to a 20-meter humanoid figure of pure muscle and malice. Jet-black skin shimmered under the ruins’ broken light. Its mouth was lined with sharp fangs, curved upward in a mockery of a smile. Its yellow eyes scanned the trapped fighters, no urgency or rage, just certainty.

This wasn’t a fight to it anymore.

For the monster this was just another prey fallen to his trap waiting to be slaughtered like a helpless lamb.

Then a pulse rang through the air like the toll of a war bell.

The domain tightened.

Everyone’s knees buckled. Casters struggled to maintain focus. Melee fighters grit their teeth, knowing full well they couldn’t charge forward without being shredded in an instant.

Only one remained unaffected by the domain.

Sairi Celster.

Her short crimson hair fluttered in the still air, red like smoldering embers in the dusk. She didn’t panic. She didn’t curse. Her eyes narrowed, calm and resolute.

She reached into her side pouch, and pulled out a crystal fang, wrapped in golden runes.

"Time to pay your dues, old lizard," she muttered with a smirk.

She wasn’t talking to the monster, instead she was saying that to the Dragon. She got contracted with.

With a flick of her wrist, she crushed the fang.

BOOM.

A pulse of anti-domain magic erupted from the item. A brilliant blue shockwave expanded outward, clashing with the oppressive red-black pressure of the Tyrant’s domain. For a breathless moment, the two energies warred.

Then, snap.

The domain cracked at the edges.

Casters gasped and staggered back into motion. The terrain underfoot stabilized. Mana flowed freely again.

They could move.

The Tyrant’s mocking grin faltered. Just for a second.

"All ranged! Focus fire!" Sairi shouted, taking the lead.

She charged.

But she didn’t throw a punch or prepare a spell.

Instead, she tapped her wrist, activating a runed armlet. A wave of golden light surged around her. A magical buckler appeared on her forearm, then another flick, a flame whip, coiling into her hand from nowhere.

The Dragon Treasury.

Items drawn from the hoard of the ancient dragon she was contracted to.

Each item burned with ancient enchantments, bound to her by blood and pact.

From behind her, dozens of ranged attackers, mages, archers, bombardiers, started releasing their skills one by one.

"Arcbolt!"

"Storm Fang Arrows!"

"Gravity Lance!"

One by one, spells and arrows soared through the broken ruins. Each impacted the Tyrant like thunder on stone. The monster staggered under the sheer weight of sustained pressure but that was all, it didn’t fall.

Its defense was abnormally absurd.

Meanwhile, the melee fighters formed a protective ring around the casters. They couldn’t join the attack right now, it would be suicidal to get close while the Tyrant’s attention was still focused but they stood guard. Shields raised. Eyes sharp. Ready to intercept any sudden shift.

Sairi led the assault from mid-range, changing her tools one after another,

A frost bomb.

A divine spear.

A chain of binding light.

Each item burned out upon use, but she never hesitated. Every throw was precise. Every strike, calculated. She wasn’t just an epic rank awakener, she was a walking arsenal, throwing out endless high grade items at the monster.

"Keep hitting it!" she yelled over her shoulder. "Don’t stop! If we give it even a second.."

Then the ground trembled.

The Tyrant roared, unleashing a shockwave from its core. Another pulse of powerful energy shockwave exploded from it as the center which sent the casters and all those caught unprepared flying knocking them hard into the ground breaking their formation.

The monster tried to dash in and take advantage of the situation but Sairi was already prepared, she jumped in between and blocked the attack with her buckler.

Boom.

The collision of their attack sent smokes and debris flying everywhere. The air was filled with smoke and scorched mana. The broken ruins were now barely recognizable, craters, shattered stone and splintered walls.

When the smokes cleared the Tyrant still stood tall and untouched. But its ugly face distorted even more with annoyance.

No blood or broken bones. Only irritation.

And the humans?

They were struggling. Badly.

Casters gasped for breath, drenched in sweat and mana-drained. Their spells had lost their edge. Archers had long run out of arrows and now hurled knives or resorted to cover fire with conjured bolts. Even the best of the ranged were faltering.

But Sairi still stood unwavering, unfaltered.

She was their wall. Their spear. Their will.

And the Tyrant hated her for it.

Every time it advanced, another item.slammed into it. A flame-linked collar that tried to bind its neck. A sonic seal that burst in its ears. A spear carved from the fang of a void beast.

None of them were life threatening for the monster.

But all of them hurt.

The mutant Tyrant had grown tired. The humans were weak, too weak to be worth mentioning. But that woman... with short crimson hair... she was the problem.

At the start of the fight she was throwing out items endlessly by now it was more sparce as if she was running out of and trying to utilisize it better. He could feel it now, her inventory was almost dry.

She had to be dipping into the bottom layer of her reserves. Her throws had grown slower. Her breathing heavier. She didn’t even have time to dodge now, only counter and shield.

One final attack.

A blinding bomb of pure light detonated at the Tyrant’s face. He roared in frustration, stumbled back half a step and then leapt forward.

In a blur, his massive palm slammed into Sairi’s chest like a battering ram. She flew like a ragdoll.

"Aunt Sairi!"