"Hit him now—while his mana's drained!"
Madman's expression turned grim as he signaled everyone to make a move and save the lamb, which was inches from being torn apart.
"No offensive capabilities… that's one hell of a weakness,"
Orson muttered with a deep frown. The supremacy of upper-tier dragonkin wasn't just in their Dragon Curse magic—
It was their raw, overwhelming physical power.
Even without magic, they could crush most King-class beings in close combat alone.
"I'll cover you!"
Drunken Dream charged forward atop Denoka, using Holy Light Dragon Breath to harass Daloré, while the others leapt onto the massive dragon's back.
But before they could even begin their assault—
Daloré's eyes snapped toward them with eerie clarity.
Gone was the fury. In its place: calculation.
"Watch out!" Drunken Dream barked, instincts screaming.
"Hmph. Such a pathetic trick. You think this is enough to beat me?"
Daloré's voice oozed contempt as a sly glint sparked in his eyes.
