The sky burned.
Flames rolled across the heavens as the dragon circled, wings tearing the air apart with every beat. Its presence alone crushed the land beneath it—ancient, apex, a predator born before kingdoms learned fear.
Rein Clark stood below it, feet planted, smiling.
Rein wasn't just strong.
He was built wrong.
His body was a living anomaly—muscle density beyond mortal limits, bones reinforced by divine ether, endurance that didn't merely rival dragons… but challenged their supremacy. Where dragons relied on scales and regeneration, Rein relied on something far more terrifying.
Raw dominion.
Golden energy wrapped around his arms as he flexed his fingers. The ground cracked under his feet.
The dragon dove.
Rein didn't dodge.
He jumped.
The impact when they collided sounded like a mountain splitting in half. Rein slammed into the dragon's chest, hands gripping scales as he wrestled the beast midair, muscles bulging as dominion energy coated his fists like blazing gauntlets.
He punched.
Once.
Twice.
Each blow detonated with enough force to rupture mountains, shockwaves ripping through the clouds. The dragon roared in fury and pain, claws raking across Rein's body—
—and doing almost nothing.
Sparks flew.
Blood didn't.
Rein laughed as he was thrown through the air, landing hard enough to carve a trench miles long. He rose immediately, rolling his neck.
"Told you," he muttered. "Not enough."
The dragon inhaled.
The world panicked.
Its throat glowed white-hot as annihilation magic condensed—fire not meant to burn flesh, but erase existence itself. The beam erupted, a pillar of pure destruction screaming toward Rein.
Rein raised one hand.
His eyes sharpened.
Dominion surged.
"Close your mouth, beast."
Reality obeyed.
The dragon's jaws snapped shut violently—locked by authority it could not resist.
The annihilation beam had nowhere to go.
It turned inward.
The dragon screamed as the magic devoured it from the inside, organs disintegrating, bones cracking as molten destruction ripped through its throat and chest.
It crashed into the ground, convulsing.
Smoke poured from its mouth, nostrils, eyes.
But Rein knew better.
"Still breathing," he said calmly.
Dragons regenerated.
Even from that.
Rein brushed dust off his shoulder as the dragon staggered back to its feet, flesh knitting, scales reforming with furious speed.
He smiled wider.
"I'll take your head," Rein said, voice low and savage.
"And I'll drink your blood."
He vanished.
A sonic boom detonated as Rein launched himself straight at the dragon's head, fist leading.
The punch landed.
The dragon became a projectile.
Its body smashed into a distant cliff, obliterating stone and carving a massive crater into the land. Before it could rise, Rein was there—grabbing its tail and slamming it repeatedly into the ground, each impact shaking the continent.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
He stepped onto its head, boot cracking bone beneath the pressure. He leaned down, staring directly into its burning eyes.
"It's time."
Rein wrapped both hands around the dragon's skull.
Muscles screamed.
Dominion flared.
With a brutal twist and a final surge of strength, the dragon's head tore free from its body.
Blood erupted like a storm.
Rein caught some of it midair, tilting his head back and drinking deeply as crimson sprayed across his face and armor. He exhaled slowly, satisfied.
He tossed the head aside.
The massive corpse collapsed, lifeless at last.
Rein wiped his mouth, cracked his neck, and turned toward the distant black-and-white tower piercing the sky.
A feral grin spread across his face.
"Time to slime these fools."
And he walked toward Atlas.