No! I don't want to be a Super Necromancer!

The black dragon looked down at Damien with eyes older than civilization, burning with disdain. Its voice rumbled like tectonic plates grinding together.

"Insect. You're pretty good. You actually detected my presence."

"You're too fat and too ugly to miss." Damien replied carelessly.

Apparently, Black Dragons have zero appreciation for trash talk.

"You! Little piece of trash! I've razed cities older than your ancestors. You crawl through graves and pretend it makes you powerful. Leave now, or I'll erase you like the ash you command."

Damien didn't flinch. His eyes glinted with cold amusement.

Asking me to leave? Even after getting insulted? How undragonlike. There must be a secret here somewhere!

"You talk too much, lizard." he said. "I need a dragon general. Why don't you save me the trouble and commit suicide? It'll save us both time and energy."

The dragon blinked once, then burst into a laughter that split the sky like a thundercrack.

"You arrogant maggot. You'll die screaming."

Then it attacked.

The blast that came was dragonfire imbued with darkness energy.

It was something much more powerful than the adolescent Fatty could ever hope to unleash.

The stream of Dark Dragonfire that hurtled towards Damien was so dense and so ancient that it shrieked with the echoes of collapsed realms.

Reality peeled back before it. Trees turned to ash. Stone liquefied. The wind fled.

The Seven Demonlords staggered, caught in the wavefront of pure destruction. Their armor cracked, their forms rippled under the strain. Even Frostmourne's eyes dimmed for a moment.

Damien raised his hand.

A thin line of violet and silver energy curled outward. It shimmered with something ancient and absolute.

Time. And Death.

The two forces collided midair.

The sky detonated.

Where darkness met deathlight, the world fractured.

A ring of devastation bloomed outward, warping the landscape into spirals of broken time and scorched matter. Trees bent sideways as if time hiccupped. Echoes of the impact repeated seconds after they happened. The soil beneath Damien's feet peeled upward like a reversed explosion.

The earth screamed. Clouds were ripped from the sky. Half the battlefield was swallowed in spiraling entropy.

The black dragon's eyes narrowed. It roared again and unleashed a second burst of Dark Dragonfire, larger, wider, pulsing with indignance and fury.

Damien responded without a word.

His second blast surged forward like a tidal blade, folding space as it moved, unraveling enchantments, collapsing elemental constructs, and turning the dragon's wave into frayed mana strands.

His power was both raw and surgical. A scalpel of extinction.

Within seconds, the collision point of their attack cleared, both fearsome energies cancelling each other out.

And then they both knew.

This would not end with words.

It would end with death.

"The maggot has fangs." The Black Dragon smiled a deathly smile. "I am going to enjoy squishing you."

"You better talk more now." Damien smiled an equally evil smile. "I will cut off your tongue when I raise you up as my Dragon General."

At his words, the Black Dragon roared and dove towards Damien.

Damien laughed and shot upwards, his short sword already in his hands and his time energy rippling out in mysterious and deadly patterns.

The battlefield exploded into three distinct battles:

Above, Damien and the black dragon collided, the sky warping with every blow, space bending from their spells.

Below, the Beast King reengaged the Seven Undead Demonlords, his roars echoing across the plains as claws and breath clashed with hellborn fury.

Around them, the remnants of the beast horde and Damien's lesser undead surged into a new slaughter.

Damien faced the black dragon head-on. There was no more banter, no measured restraint. Every strike, every flicker of energy, was calculated violence.

But he was thinking. Always.

The dragon's darkness was wide, brutal, uncontrollable.

Damien's time-death fusion was narrower but more precise. Sharper.

He compressed his mana into needles instead of spears, spikes instead of waves. He wasn't trying to overwhelm, there was no way he would win against the Black Dragon in a battle of brute strength.

Instead, he was trying to pierce, to send his death energy into his body where it could wreak absolute havoc from within.

As the dragon roared and sent another blast of decay-stained dragonfire toward him, Damien exploded in a burst of speed so fast that it seemed as though he vanished.

He reappeared a moment later above the dragon's spine.

His fingers moved in a blur, weaving runes mid-air. A net of geometric death lattice formed between his hands—each rune a word from the Living Library, each line reinforced by years of battlefield experiments.

The dragon turned and lashed out, but Damien had already moved. The runes detonated in a pattern, causing the power of the rune - stagnation - to burst out.

It froze time in pinprick zones, slowing the dragon's breath, clipping the velocity of its wings.

Damien dove. His blade shimmered silver-violet as it struck the dragon's hide. The scale cracked slightly

His mind raced.

That was the third hit. And the first to leave a mark.

He needed more.

Damien called on a technique he'd only perfected months ago—temporal fragmentation.

He split his current self across five half-real moments and struck simultaneously from five angles. The dragon whipped around, howling, as two stabs landed clean. One nearly hit an eye.

But then its wing slammed into him.

A hit.

Damien spiraled, caught himself midair with a platform of death mana, and skidded across a ripple of space.

His body ached. One rib was definitely cracked.

"So you do hit hard," he muttered, blood on his lip.

His body was a Silver Grade body, and tougher than triple folded steel.

For the Black Dragon's wing to actually break a rib was testament to just how powerful dragons actually hit.

"The first of many." The Black Dragon snarled before diving towards Damien, claws extended and Dragonfire already spewing out.

Damien opened a temporal gate and poured everything he had into a compressed sphere of reality collapse. He hurled it like a god's bullet.

It struck the dragon in the chest.