Everyone was shocked by Kael Vane's words.
Kill it?!
This was a legendary dragon!
One dragon could destroy a country. People used to think that was just an exaggeration—something written in old records to scare children. After today, they knew it was a fact.
The purple-haired man watched Kael with lazy amusement. He didn't care what Kael said.
Humans were all talk and no action. To him, it was just the barking of a helpless insect.
"So... when are you going to let go of my client?" Kael Vane asked calmly.
The purple-haired man's lips curled. He lifted the king higher by the throat, as if showing off a prize.
He looked at Kael. "If you're so tough, come and take him."
"If that's how you want it," Kael said, "I won't be polite."
Kael Vane slowly drew his sword and walked forward.
The man had already arranged the scene in his mind. Let the human attack. Let him feel the gap between human and dragon. Then crush the king's neck right in front of everyone—crush it like an ant.
Yes... humans were ants.
Kael closed the distance and casually swung his sword at the man's wrist.
It wasn't a fast strike. No flash. No roar. Just a simple cut, the kind an ordinary swordsman might throw away without thinking.
The purple-haired man didn't even blink. A slow swing like that couldn't hurt him.
But the instant the blade touched his skin—
Everything in him screamed.
It wasn't pain. It was instinct. A sudden, sharp sense that something had gone terribly wrong.
He released the king and shot backward, boots skimming the dirt as he slid dozens of meters away in a single blur. His eyes changed—pupils narrowing into a dragon's vertical slits—locked onto Kael like a beast spotting a predator.
The king crashed to the ground on his knees, coughing, gulping air like he'd forgotten how to breathe.
"What?!"
"What happened?!"
"That monster... retreated?!"
"He didn't even dodge Arthur's strongest attack! But he backed off from a normal swing from Mr. Kael?!"
No one could process it. They had just watched the king, Arthur, Kray, and Erza throw everything they had at the dragon. Nothing worked. Not a scratch. Not even a flinch.
They were starting to believe humans simply couldn't harm dragons at all.
But the dragon had moved.
And the look in his eyes wasn't playful anymore. It was wary. Focused. Sharp.
"Too bad."
Kael Vane shook his head, almost disappointed.
He had tried to bury his killing intent, keep it flat, keep it quiet. But a dragon's danger sense was brutal. It didn't care how polite you were.
If the guy hadn't moved, Kael would have taken his hand off.
"You..." The purple-haired man's voice dropped.
The grin was gone. The amusement was gone. He was staring at Kael like a real enemy.
Kael didn't answer. He glanced back at the king.
"Your Majesty, are you okay?"
The king blinked, as if waking from a nightmare. "Y-Yes, I'm fine!"
"Good. If you're fine, go back to the city. I'll take care of this."
The king swallowed hard. He wanted to argue—wanted to say something heroic, something kingly—but his throat still burned and his hands were still shaking.
"Okay! We're counting on you!"
He turned and shouted with everything he had left. "Everyone! Fall back to the city!"
The order snapped people into motion. Soldiers grabbed the wounded. Swordsmen supported each other. Some limped. Some crawled. They all moved, because they all understood the same thing:
If they stayed, they wouldn't help. They would die. Worse—they would get in Kael's way.
The purple-haired man sneered, watching them retreat. "What's the use? A wall like that is just paper to a dragon."
Then he tilted his head, studying Kael. "And you, human. Do you want to be a hero?"
"A hero?" Kael's voice didn't rise. "I've been one before. What's one more time?"
"Interesting." The purple-haired man smiled again, but it was thinner now. "Kid, after you die, everyone else will follow."
"Is that so?" Kael exhaled once. "Oh well. At least I tried my best. Maybe it's just fate."
"In that case—just die!"
The purple-haired man snapped his hand forward.
Five giant, claw-shaped slashes tore through the air, the edges shimmering with a dark, crushing force. They didn't just cut—they tore. The ground beneath them ripped open as they passed, as if the land itself had been dragged apart.
Kael dodged.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The slashes hit the city wall.
The 100-meter-tall wall—old stone layered with old magic, a fortress that had stood for ages—split apart like paper. Chunks the size of houses sheared off and fell in slow, helpless arcs. Dust and gravel poured down like a gray waterfall.
And the attack didn't stop there.
The slashes kept going—straight through the city—carving a clean line of destruction all the way to the far side, where the outer wall erupted outward in a distant blast.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then someone whispered, voice breaking.
"The city... was cut in half!"
People stared, hollow-eyed. Shock hit first. Then fear—heavy and absolute. How could humans fight something that could do that with a flick of a hand?
Kael looked at the damage, then looked back at the dragon.
"Hey, hey! We're fighting here. Don't destroy other people's property! It takes half a lifetime to save up for a house, you know. You just destroyed it! All that hard work, for nothing!"
"..."
Everyone on the wall was speechless.
This is not the time to be talking about houses.
The purple-haired man stared at him, baffled for half a second.
Kael shrugged. "Ah, sorry. But this stuff is just so fragile. Don't worry, though. I'll kill you, so nobody has to worry about their mortgages anymore."
The purple-haired man's grin returned—sharp and ugly.
Then he stomped down and charged.
The ground cracked under the force of his step. His claws, wrapped in dense dragon power, slashed forward like guillotines.
Kael moved.
"Sun Breathing, Fourth Form: Parhelion Rainbow!"
Swish—!
The claws passed right through Kael's body.
No resistance. No impact. No blood.
The dragon's eyes widened.
He had seen the hit. He had felt the motion. But there was nothing there.
An afterimage.
Even with dragon eyes, he hadn't seen the switch.
Kael appeared at the man's side—close enough that the heat and pressure rolling off the dragon felt like standing beside a furnace.
"Sun Breathing, First Form: Dance!"
Kael swung.
The slash was circular—clean, bright, and fast—like a ring of fire being drawn through the air. It wasn't a wild swing. It was precise, aimed straight for the throat.
The dragon's face changed instantly. His arm snapped up to block.
Stab!
"Aaaaaargh!"
Blood sprayed.
It wasn't a trickle. It wasn't a scratch. It was real—hot and red, splattering across the dirt and the torn grass.
The dragon's body launched backward like he'd been hit by a cannon.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
He smashed through several trees, trunks cracking and exploding into shards, before he finally stopped in a churned-up trench of broken wood and earth.
For a second, no one breathed.
Then the words escaped someone's mouth like a prayer and a scream at the same time.
"He hurt him!"