The air around the destroyed city grew thinner and unstable to breathe in. The beast that stood before Percival, towering over him, exuded a devilish and draconic presence, sending waves of fear into all who dared witness it.
But Percival showed no fear—only a glint of genuine surprise and fascination. "Just what the hell did this boy turn into?" he muttered, awestruck by the creature's form. "Who would've thought breaking him would unlock such an overworldly transformation? Must be his Contractor—being a dragon—had something to do with it."
He chuckled. "How intriguing... You never fail to amaze me, Xavier."
From afar stood Xavier—or what was once Xavier. Now a dragon-humanoid beast, cloaked in ash and seething power. Its body radiated heat, each breath exhaling plumes of scalding steam from the sides of its jagged fangs.
"Xavier," Percival called, spreading his arms with a smug grin. "Did my words finally get under your skin? If so, I must apologize, my dear son—"
But he never finished.
The draconic beast vanished from sight in a blink.
In the next instant, it appeared beside him, claws already slamming across Percival's face. With a single devastating motion, Percival was hurled like a ragdoll, crashing through several ruined buildings, miles away.
Buried in rubble, Percival lay momentarily still. Then—laughter.
He rose from the debris, brushing dust from his clothes. A crooked smile spread across his face. "If you're here chasing revenge or justice—whatever naïve dream my brother filled your head with—you'd better make sure you're strong enough to actually hurt me."
His eyes glowed, wild and malicious. "You're stronger than Dragon King Alcmena's little puppet... no—much stronger. You might even be a fun toy to play with."
The beast said nothing.
Its stare alone was suffocating—predatory, unblinking. It raised two fingers and pointed.
Astral Sovereignty: Cosmic Finger Cannon.
A pulse—then chaos.
A stream of cosmic energy, radiant as a collapsing star and tearing through reality at incomprehensible speeds—beyond the very concept of light—screamed across the battlefield. Buildings, earth, sky—everything in its trajectory was obliterated in an instant.
And yet—
Percival smirked.
Before impact, a void of black shadows spiraled around him, shielding him. The beam slammed into the shadows, rocking the earth.
As dust settled and silence returned, a figure emerged from within the void.
Lord of Apocalypse, Emperor Julius.
Percival straightened, eyes widening. "Emperor Julius," he said with rare reverence, bowing slightly. "To what do I owe this visit?"
Julius's voice was cold. "I sensed a dragonic presence—one I haven't felt in eons. After my disappointing encounter with Excalibur's new failure of a master, I came to investigate."
His eyes narrowed. "What... is that thing? I've never seen anything like it."
Percival rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. "Well... that creature is—my nephew. Xavier."
"Xavier?"
"Yes. The very boy wielding Excalibur. The same one you just met, apparently. Forgot his name already?"
Julius scoffed. "The weak aren't worth remembering. But if that thing is truly him, I'm impressed. What did you do?"
Percival grinned. "Nothing. Just broke him, really. He's a brat who lets emotions run wild."
"You care little for family," Julius noted.
Percival shrugged. "Family only matters if they're useful. Otherwise? Trash."
Julius's eyes remained on him, unblinking. His head didn't move, but his gaze cut sharp. "How is this man even human? An evil that justifies itself... unlike myself."
He smirked faintly. "Makes him dangerous. But entertaining."
Suddenly, their focus snapped to the creature.
The beast extended its clawed hand outward.
And in that moment—
Excalibur came.
The sacred sword flew through the air, spinning violently—
—However, just as Excalibur emerged from its portal, it didn't land onto the creature's grasp, but nailed itself onto the ground right before the creature.
The blade pulsed with unstable light, as if struggling to reconcile with the force now wielding it.
The battle was far from over.
It had only just begun.
The dragonoid looked confused as it stepped closer, lowering its massive frame to grasp the sword.
But it couldn't.
It tried again—claws flexing, muscles straining—but Excalibur refused to budge. With each failed attempt, its frustration grew. A low, guttural roar erupted from its throat, echoing through the ruined battlefield.
Then came the voice.
"You are not my chosen," a woman's voice said—soft yet edged with divine steel. "Only the boy bound by oath and will may wield me. You bear his body—but not his soul."
The sword glowed with ancient runes as it spoke. The dragonoid stared at the blade, rage beginning to eclipse confusion in its glowing eyes. It snarled, trying once more to force the weapon free.
"Do not come any closer," Excalibur warned, light growing harsher. "I do not wish to harm my Master's body."
The dragonoid ignored the warning.
As it reached again—
A crack of golden thunder split the heavens.
A divine bolt of lightning crashed down, smiting the earth around Excalibur and launching the beast back violently. It slammed into the ground, smoke rising from its scorched flesh.
"That was my final warning," the blade intoned, pulsing. "Return my Master's body. If you approach again—I will not miss."
The beast trembled.
Not from injury—but from something deeper. Its instincts screamed in panic. Every corner of its existence knew what stood before it. And it dared challenge it.
Anger surged.
It released a deafening roar that shook the shattered remnants of the city. A wave of pitch-black miasma erupted around it, thickening the air with despair.
Dragon Fear.
An ability only bestowed upon Wyverians who carried the title of Dragon King. Its influence struck deep into the soul. Even Julius and Percival—monsters in their own right—felt its presence clawing at their senses.
Julius's brow furrowed slightly. Percival winced.
As the effect began to fade, the beast's glowing gaze turned once more toward the two.
Each breath it took expanded its chest with fury.
One thought—no, one command echoed through its warped mind:
Kill.
"You might want to sit this one out, Percival," Julius said flatly, a warning laced within his even tone. "This one caught my attention. It's mine."
Percival scoffed, but his smile never faded. "Knowing you, it'll be over before it even begins. Maybe—just maybe—go easy? You know... for the sake of the promise I made you. My conquest isn't in full bloom yet, and your real opponents—the ones truly worth your wrath—haven't stepped onto the stage. I'd hate for you to get bored before the curtain truly rises."
Julius didn't look at him. "Are you asking me to savor something so trivial?"
"Not asking," Percival quickly replied, hands up in mock defense. "Just suggesting, Your Grand Majesty."
Julius exhaled, a faint sound like wind sliding through a blade. He walked forward—each step effortless, graceful.
He stopped before the towering creature.
Gazing up, he said with no hint of emotion:
"Disappoint me again... and you won't get the chance to regret it."
The dragonoid snarled—fangs grinding, hate pouring from its glare. In an instant, it lunged, claws slicing downward.
Nothing.
It struck air.
Julius now floated behind it, upside down, fingers outstretched and aimed.
Threads of Reality: Disassembling Sunder.
Invisible strands of condensed spatial energy whipped out—hundreds, then thousands. They sliced through the beast's hide with uncanny precision, bypassing its natural defenses as if cutting through vapor.
Chunks of flesh and blood exploded from its body.
But the creature did not flinch.
Its wounds closed almost immediately—limbs regrowing, flesh knitting back together like threads of silk.
Julius's eyes narrowed, calculating.
"Dragon regeneration..." he muttered inwardly. "More refined than standard. Likely due to its link to a Dragon King. This will be... annoying."
No hesitation.
The dragonoid opened its jaw wide—flames coiling behind jagged teeth.
Starfire Breath.
A tsunami of molten flame surged out, warping the very air. Buildings liquefied, the ground cracked and boiled. The inferno rushed toward Julius like the wrath of a collapsing sun.
Julius raised a single hand, forming a defensive arcane veil with his aura.
The fire slammed into him—its power apocalyptic. Though shielded, heat still rippled along his skin, flickering at the edges of his clothes.
He blinked once.
His lips curled—not into a smile—but something faint. Something unreadable.
Not joy.
Not hatred.
Curiosity.
Like a god examining a rare insect that had dared survive his step.
"Now you're starting to amuse me," he thought.
But he said nothing.
His silence was the real terror.
Because to Julius—emotion was a waste.
And yet the game... was beginning to feel fun.
Julius immediately followed up, his fingers twirling midair with deliberate precision. Threads shimmered into existence—invisible to the naked eye—spiraling outward in a circular formation. With a single flick, they converged.
The dragonoid was cleaved clean in two.
But the split lasted only a breath.
The creature's bisected body reformed instantly—sinew, bone, and scaled flesh stitching back together with grotesque speed.
Yet Julius's unreadable stare lingered.
This was what he'd intended.
In the microsecond the beast was occupied with reconstituting its form, Julius surged forward, his body moving like a divine spear. He caught the creature by the face, dragging it through concrete, steel, and shattered earth like a freight train of raw intent. Then—with an aura-drenched fist—he delivered a devastating blow to its jaw, sending a shockwave that cratered the terrain beneath.
As the smoke cleared, Julius realized his fist struck only stone.
The creature was gone.
"Teleportation?" he questioned, unshaken.
Then he felt it.
Behind him.
A singularity.
A black orb hovered just meters away, humming with gravitational pressure. Not simply darkness—a true quantum black hole. It warped light itself. And next to it stood the dragonoid.
Or rather—hovered. Its eyes gleamed with malevolent clarity.
It hadn't teleported.
Julius sliced backward with a single thread, splitting the singularity before it could collapse inward. The black hole vanished with a whisper.
So did the dragonoid.
Again—behind him.
Again—another black hole.
This time, Julius turned slowly, intrigued. "Hm."
But the beast didn't wait.
A vortex swirled to life in its clawed hands thanks to vectors, compressing air and space until it howled with unbearable force. It slashed—and the air itself tore.
Julius dodged effortlessly.
Or so he thought.
A deep claw mark laced his clothes.
His fingers twitched. Threads appeared, instantly sewing the fabric whole. As if the attack never landed.
But it had.
He murmured, "Tricky bastard."
The creature smirked—a knowing, calculated grin.
This was no beast. This was intelligence honed through wrath. A terrifying synthesis of instinct and ingenuity. Its eyes glinted with a predator's joy—not for survival, but for strategy.
What it had just used wasn't simply Xavier's ability.
It was an evolved iteration.
Xavier had theorized the fusion of his "Vector Teleportation" and "Vector Acceleration" techniques for weeks—a seamless movement model that would eliminate the telltale signs of teleportation energy and lag, making displacement truly unpredictable.
But Xavier failed to perfect it.
This creature—Xavier's corrupted final form—had.
By leveraging Alcmena's "Blackstar Authority: Black Hole" alongside the vector models, it created a terrifying loop:
A micro black hole formed a gravitational pull. The dragonoid accelerated its body at speeds approaching—then surpassing—light, molecularly unraveling itself to atomic fragments. Then the black hole acted not as a hazard—but a destination. A target. The gravity drew those particles in, and reassembled them elsewhere.
It wasn't teleportation.
It was a calculated quantum transfer.
And it was faster than anything Xavier had ever built.
Before Julius could test the limits of it, space itself buckled.
The dragonoid swiped again—but this time, its claws shimmered with gravitational weight.
Astral Sovereignty: Gravitational Downfall.
Gravity itself inverted, slamming down on Julius mid-air. Entire chunks of floating debris were flattened. The pressure could've turned a mountain range to dust.
But Julius remained standing.
Barely shifting.
His gaze didn't even rise to meet the beast.
And then—deep within the creature's consciousness—a voice screamed.
"XAVIER!"
Alcmena's voice. Desperate. Distant.
"Snap out of it! You must regain control—you must!"
The dragonoid didn't answer.
Its eyes narrowed on Julius.
And it lunged.
Alcmena gritted his teeth, watching through the beast's eye.
"Damn it all... Who would've thought his suppressed emotions would trigger a full Dragon Seed awakening… and now he's become the final form of RealmHeart."
He exhaled, frustration and fear leaking through his voice.
"His mind is submerged... and this thing isn't Xavier anymore."