Surviving These Unfair Scenarios [LITRPG - DIMENSION HOPPING]

The battlefield had gone quiet for a moment, the tension from the last exchange hanging in the air like mist. Dust still lingered where Tenzing's eruption of energy had forced Drake back, and the sky above seemed dimmer, as if the world itself were holding its breath. The Emberling Phoenix, still perched on the boy's shoulders, let out a trembling cry as her feathers flared slightly. Her voice, delicate yet shaken, broke the silence between them.

"That energy... I know it. I remember it from long ago. My father kept a relic sealed in his palace, hidden away from even his most trusted servants. It belonged to a human, someone he once made a pact with… before the Immortal Emperor. That relic always radiated a strange presence… It's the same one I'm feeling now. It's coming from that monk."

Drake's body tensed immediately. A bead of sweat slid down his temple, his expression hardening as the implications settled in. He remembered the stories from his time training under the Western Emperor's domain. During one of their rare conversations, the radiant phoenix had spoken of a powerful human he once fought beside. A monk, not just any monk, but one known across Murim legends as the 'Divine Monk'. Founder of the Shaolin order and bearer of a transcendent will. Even if history had turned that name into myth, Drake now understood the gravity of what Tenzing was channeling. For the Western Emperor to have respected that man enough to form a pact meant that his power had once rivaled that of the great Emperors themselves.

The weight of that revelation slowed the blond's breath. He felt the Phoenix on his shoulder shrink against him, her claws lightly tightening. But before he could act, a burst of chaotic laughter rang out again from the other side of the battlefield.

"Wahahaha! I don't know what just happened, but this is getting way more fun!"

It was the Obsidian Young Monkey. He tumbled forward with boundless energy, his voice a wild cheer as he twirled his gunchucks around his body, faster than what a normal eye could follow. Drake shouted after him immediately.

"Wait! Stop—don't go near him!"

But the monkey didn't listen. He leapt into the air, his black-and-gold gunchucks spinning in a storm of motion. His feet barely touched the ground as he flipped and darted across the stone floor, each swing releasing a deafening shot from the barrels embedded in the ends of his weapons. Sparks of Ki-infused bullets flew with every spin, ricocheting off stone, striking toward Tenzing with near-blinding speed.

The monkey was a blur, a living storm of motion, flipping through the air, laughing, shooting, twisting his body with impossible agility. And yet, Tenzing did not move.

One of his hands remained raised in a serene gesture of prayer, eyes half-closed as if meditating mid-battle. The other hand moved with utter calm. Every shot, every swing, every angle of attack—the monk blocked them all. Not dodged, but blocked. With the edge of a wrist, with the flat of his hand, with the soft bend of his elbow, he redirected each strike and each bullet as if he knew their trajectory before they even left the gunchucks. Each impact rang out like thunder, but he did not yield a single step.

Drake's heart raced. He broke into a run, pushing his aching body forward, shouting over his shoulder toward the distant forms of the Vermilion Dracling and the Basilisk Hatchling, still watching from the flanks.

"Go! Support Rokkan! Now!"

The Emberling Phoenix lifted her head as Drake sprinted, trying to flap her wings to take flight again despite her uneasiness. The dragon and the serpent responded, surging into motion, their bodies glowing with summoned power. All of them were prepared to converge on Tenzing from different angles. For a second, it felt like their timing would be perfect, while the monkey was still attacking. Drake was nearly there. Their formation was set… But reality shifted.

Without warning, everything slowed, but not from hesitation. It was something unnatural. As Drake took another step forward, he caught something from the corner of his eye—three silhouettes. Tenzing's form was behind him and the phoenix. Then again, behind the Dracling, and another one behind the Basilisk… Three of him in different places at the same time, even when the monk was still fighting the Monkey.

For a breathless instant, time felt warped, as if something had distorted the very fabric of space around them.

Drake's feet refused to move. The pressure—immediate and absolute—crushed against his chest before his legs could push forward. His eyes widened as golden light surged from above.

There was no time to react… Three massive palms of radiant gold appeared from the void. One above Drake and the Emberling Phoenix, another above the Dragon, and a third above the Serpent. The air screamed as they descended, as if the world itself rejected their presence. Then came the impact.

A roaring crack tore across the field as the divine palms struck down. The stone beneath Drake shattered. A bone-rattling crash threw his body into the earth with impossible force. The Emberling Phoenix screamed, her cry a flare of flame that was instantly smothered beneath the weight of the hand. Drake felt his breath leave him all at once. His limbs locked, crushed beneath the divine pressure. He couldn't move, couldn't even lift his head.

The sound of his own bones grinding echoed in his ears, drowned only by the simultaneous cries of the Vermilion Dracling and the Basilisk Hatchling as they were also pinned, their massive bodies writhing against the enormous palms pinning them to the battlefield.

From every direction, a golden glow pulsed—silent, merciless, and absolute. It was not simply strength. Drake tried to scream, but the weight was too much. All he could do was grit his teeth as the earth cracked beneath him, and the presence of Tenzing's technique threatened to erase every trace of resistance.

The battlefield had fallen into a stillness that felt extremely unnatural, broken only by the soft crackling of residual flames and the faint groans of the injured. The air remained heavy with pressure, as if the energy released by Tenzing had warped the environment itself. The craters left by the golden palms still radiated heat and divine force, and for a moment, everything seemed locked in a breathless pause.

Then, the remaining figures of the monk—those that had appeared behind each of the beasts and Drake—faded away as if they had never existed. They vanished like shadows banished by the dawn, dissolving into thin air with no resistance. The Obsidian Young Monkey, still mid-attack, noticed the absence and glanced around with wide eyes. Even as his gunchucks spun and fired in continuous bursts, he turned his head, confused by the sudden eruption of energy behind him.

"What? What happened?"

He muttered, his voice light, caught between confusion and disbelief.

He barely finished the word before a palm struck him squarely in the chest. Tenzing had found the perfect angle, bypassing the storm of gunchuck fire with calm precision, and landed a direct open-hand strike. The force was devastating. A glowing imprint of a hand burned itself into the monkey's fur, and his mouth opened in a sharp gasp as blood erupted from his lips.

The impact launched him backwards at terrifying speed, his small frame spiraling through the air like a broken missile. The force created a shockwave that cracked the ground beneath and sent debris flying in every direction. He crashed through several buildings in succession, disappearing from view entirely.

There was no sound afterward, no cheering, no pain-filled cries… It was over. Drake lay crushed beneath the weight of the divine golden palm. His body didn't move, not even to twitch. He couldn't even feel pain properly anymore—his nerves were too damaged. All he could sense was a dull ringing in his ears and the sensation of something warm against his back.

Slowly, gradually, he began to feel a soft heat spreading through his muscles and bones. He knew what it was without needing to look. The Emberling Phoenix was still using her flames, even while unconscious. Her body barely moved, but the sacred fire emanating from her feathers reached him, slowly beginning to mend torn muscle, shattered bone, ruptured organs. But it was slow, unbearably slow. He wouldn't be able to rise again in time.

Meanwhile, Tenzing began walking forward. One hand remained extended in prayer, his steps calm and quiet despite the devastation around him. His aura no longer flared wildly, it now flowed gently like a river, steady and unshakable. As he advanced, he spoke. His voice was serene, unshaken, and almost gentle. Yet there was no sign of kindness in his words.

"This battle has taught me more than a decade of meditation ever could."

He said calmly.

"I thought I had reached the summit of my path through silence, discipline, and thought. But it is only when you are pushed to the edge—forced to act against your own tenets—that the truth begins to appear. I was arrogant. I believed I could defeat you without risking everything. That I could remain untouched by desperation. But you forced me to confront the limits of my understanding. For that, I am grateful."

His pace didn't slow. He moved through the dust and flame as though untouched by the battlefield, his golden aura illuminating the path ahead.

"The Plot Device I used… it is only temporary. A glimpse, a window into what my future may hold. But it is enough. In this state, my understanding of the true Shaolin path has grown immeasurably. When I return to my natural form, I will remember this. I will grow from this."

He paused and turned his head slightly toward the broken body of Drake.

"You were not a fool to challenge me. Nor were your efforts meaningless. But now that you are no longer able to continue, I must move forward. I have others to face. Your companions—those waiting in the distance—they, too, must be silenced. Do not fear. I have transcended the primitive notions of destruction and death. I will not kill them. I will simply impose harmony. Whether they live or die after that will be decided by their own karma."

His words were not cruel. There was no anger in them. Only a quiet certainty, the kind that came from belief so absolute it no longer needed to be justified. As he walked past the battlefield, he approached the fallen paladins. The two sword-and-shield wielders lay motionless, bloodied and bruised from their previous clash. Tenzing did not hesitate. He extended one hand toward each of them, and in an instant, both of them were lifted from the ground, suspended briefly in the air. Then, a golden light flowed from his palms into their bodies.

Their wounds closed as if they had never existed. Bones realigned, torn flesh knitted together, and their battered armor gleamed again with divine brilliance. The process was swift, elegant, and painless. Their breathing steadied, and their consciousness returned. Right after, they landed softly on the ground, fully healed and unaware of how it had happened.

"I am one with the world."

Tenzing said quietly.

"Restoration is not a miracle. It is simply the acceptance of the natural state of balance."

He turned and moved next to the Paladin Champion. That one had been immobilized, paralyzed by the Basilisk's gaze and Dracling's attack. Tenzing placed a single finger on the warrior's forehead. The divine fire on the paladin's lance flickered back to life. The champion gasped as control returned to his limbs, and his body once again pulsed with divine strength.

"Everything flows, even the divine."

Tenzing murmured. Finally, he approached Lord Gideon. The paladin knelt still, eyes vacant, his body trembling from the aftereffects of the earlier clash. Tenzing stood in front of him without speaking at first. Then, he raised his right hand and drew a simple pattern in the air. Light gathered, coalescing into a golden mark, the same sutra symbol he had before. It floated forward and landed softly on Gideon's forehead.

Immediately, the paladin's eyes turned white. His body stiffened, his muscles locked in place, and his back straightened unnaturally. The sutra glowed for a moment, then faded into his skin. He stood, completely motionless, like a puppet whose strings had been pulled tight. His will was gone once more.

Tenzing folded his hands together.

"The cycle begins again."

Drake could barely breathe, and yet he remained awake. His entire body screamed with pain, yet his mind refused to sink into unconsciousness. He understood why, though. Hovering in front of his dimming vision was a familiar translucent panel.

It was both a blessing and a curse. The title had saved him from passing out, granted him a few extra minutes of awareness. But it could not heal his shattered frame. Bones were broken, internal bleeding spread unchecked, and his limbs felt distant, as if they no longer belonged to him. Staying awake meant nothing if he couldn't move, couldn't fight, and couldn't protect the others. The countdown continued to tick silently in the corner of his vision. It was a slow march toward inevitable collapse.

Then, unexpectedly, another window appeared, a different type altogether. His blurry gaze struggled to adjust to the sudden shift, but he recognized the interface at once. It was his [Otherworldly Fanbase]—the odd and mysterious group of external viewers that sometimes lent their influence to the chosen few. The panel shimmered with anticipation as a new offer appeared.

Drake stared at the words, his breath catching in his throat. This was the same occurrence that had happened during the last scenario during his battle against Bai Huolong. Back then, just like this time, it could be the difference between life and death, not just for him but for everyone still fighting around the city. His body trembled as he tried to focus, to mentally select the confirmation. He had no strength to speak aloud, but the system didn't need words. All it required was will.

Just as his thoughts began to form the acceptance, the screen distorted. Glitches ripped through the interface, black static tearing at the message like claws. The light twisted unnaturally, warping the letters into incoherent lines before the entire panel dissolved into fragments. In its place, another window emerged—cold, silent, and far more ominous.

His eyes widened, not from the pain but from recognition. That wasn't a skill he had ever learned or seen before. Aberration? Like the one Sebastian had? More importantly… Manipulation of world rules? The system itself was warning him about it. But before he could make sense of what he'd read, the warmth that had slowly begun to fade from the battlefield returned—this time with slow, deliberate footsteps approaching him.

Tenzing was walking toward him. The monk's golden aura remained radiant yet peaceful. His hand was still raised in prayer. His eyes, though calm, held an undeniable weight. He stopped a few steps from Drake and stood there in silence for a moment, letting the quiet settle around them. Then he spoke in his usual composed tone.

"You've seen it now, the system's reach, its subtle chains that bind all those who step into its light. It rewards, punishes, guides, and tempts. It shapes destiny not through intention but through necessity. Yet even it can be resisted… if one walks a path clear enough to bend the rules themselves."

The monk said while Drake clenched his jaw, saying nothing. He wanted to respond, to curse, to demand an explanation. But his mouth wouldn't move, and the time left on the title's effect was ticking away.

Tenzing didn't expect an answer. He continued speaking, as if explaining a concept to a student.

"In this temporary state, I have glimpsed a piece of that truth. My future self—the one this Plot Device allowed me to borrow for a moment—has learned to step outside the system's framework. at least for a little bit. Not to destroy it, but to recognize it for what it is. And in that clarity, I saw your path intersecting with mine. I could not allow that interference."

Drake's eyes shifted slightly, straining upward. Tenzing lowered his hand and folded both palms in front of his chest.

"The screen you saw, the one that failed to respond… was not a malfunction. It was necessary. I am sorry. But karma must take its course. It is not my place to let another entity interfere when the outcome has already been shaped."

The blond tried to speak, but all that came was a pained gasp. Tenzing lowered himself to one knee, gazing directly into the blond warrior's eyes.

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"I will not harm you further, you have already given more than most ever could. Your willpower, your loyalty, your strength—they will not go unnoticed by the world. But the moment has passed. You have done what you could. Now let the future unfold as it must."

The monk slowly rose again and took a step back.

"You do not need to fight any longer; whether you rise again will be decided by your karma, not me. I will not touch you again. What awaits you next might not be death, but stillness. A pause in your journey. Accept it."

As Tenzing turned away, the golden glow surrounding him dimmed slightly, but it remained steady. His footsteps left faint impressions of light in the dirt as he walked, calm and composed, toward the center of the battlefield once more.

Drake's vision pulsed with red and black spots as the countdown continued to fall.

He stared at the numbers, feeling them press deeper into his soul with each passing second. His breathing was shallow, and his limbs remained crushed beneath the lingering weight of the golden palm. His body was far beyond its limits. He couldn't feel his legs anymore. His left shoulder was dislocated, ribs shattered, spine barely functional. And yet his mind refused to give in.

But what for? That was the thought circling endlessly through the fragments of his consciousness. The plan had failed… It wasn't supposed to end like this. Meera's information had been precise. She had warned them about dozens of possibilities, had outlined every known strength and background of the enemies they might face, but nowhere had there been any mention of Tenzing possessing a Plot Device like 'Sneak Peek'. No reference to the monk accessing his own future strength, nor warning that he would achieve something akin to artificial Buddahood.

That was the variable that broke everything.

Drake grit his teeth slightly. The sharp metal taste of blood filled his mouth again. The four beasts he had summoned—he could still feel their presence. Dim, distant, but alive. He knew the feeling of a dying soul, and none of them had crossed that threshold yet. The Emberling Phoenix, the Young Monkey, the Basilisk Hatchling, and the Vermilion Dracling—they were injured, perhaps even severely, but they would recover once they returned to their own world. That much, at least, had not gone completely wrong.

He thought for a moment that maybe it was good that he had been the one to face Tenzing. If any other member of the team had been sent instead, they wouldn't have lasted even half as long. Perhaps not even a quarter. He had trained relentlessly for this. He had cultivated Ki beyond normal limits, and he had even carried divine energy through the fusion of martial will and system blessings. Maybe—maybe that was enough.

But the thought crumbled instantly… No, it wasn't enough. Nothing had been enough.

He was lying on the ground, broken. The enemy was walking calmly through the battlefield while restoring allies, and his team was next. They had no idea what was coming for them. And even if they did, none of them were prepared to face something like this. Maybe Adam could do something, but this wasn't something that could be outplanned or overpowered. This was a force beyond balance. A force elevated through stolen enlightenment and unshakable resolve.

And Drake couldn't stop it. That realization was the final fracture. The feeling of helplessness swept through his core like ice…

Then, a new window appeared. It wasn't one he had ever seen before.

His pulse stopped for a moment. The name of that title—the one he had never understood, the one not even Adam's cursed eye could read—Moderator Role. And the Plot Device had just been forced into use was…

"No—wait—"

He tried to whisper, but his throat had no strength to make a sound. He blinked rapidly, blood running from the edge of his eye as another message slammed down before him.

"No—no, no, no—"

Drake tried to shake his head, but he couldn't move. He stared at the words in horror. His hands began to tremble, even crushed as they were.

And then, yet another message followed, overlapping the first with a familiar signal tone.

He tried to suppress the scream welling in his chest. He didn't want to lose control. Not like this… But then, his mind went blank as soon as a new system window appeared above him.

Unlike 'Sneak Peek', the Plot Device that had now activated in Drake did not grant him future powers. It did not borrow strength from what could be. Instead, it unlocked that which already resided within him—abilities that were sealed, hidden beneath system limitations. Fortunately for Drake, during the last scenario where he had accessed his own future through his own 'Sneak Peek', much of that future power had fused with his being. Those skills, though sealed by default after the scenario's end, were still part of him. Now, they had been unleashed completely once more.

Tenzing felt it before he saw it. His movement paused, his left hand still held before him in the form of a calm mudra. Slowly, the monk turned his head. His tranquil face, so far untouched by emotion, was drawn into a measured sigh. He spoke with the same quiet gravity that marked all his words.

"So, even the system bends for those it designates."

He raised his right hand again, and the moment he did, his aberrant energy pulsed forward in thin threads of interference, intended to disrupt the change that had just occurred in Drake. Tenzing's unique skill, the [Manipulation of World Rules], sought to reach into the system again.

But this time, something stopped it… A large red system window materialized before Tenzing, outlined in luminous warning colors. At its center, a single symbol: a white exclamation mark within a triangle. The text that followed was brief, but absolute.

Tenzing blinked. Not in surprise or alarm, but in the subtle pause of someone who rarely encountered uncertainty. His eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in reflection. His hand lowered slowly. For the first time since achieving his artificial enlightenment, there was visible confusion in his expression.

Meanwhile, back where Drake's broken body lay, a golden pill appeared beside him, summoned by the system's internal assistance protocol.

It hovered momentarily above his lips before lowering gently, entering his mouth and sliding down his throat without resistance. It was not a normal pill. It radiated a sacred fusion of Imperial Ki and Divine Energy. And once it dissolved inside him, the reaction was immediate.

A wave of white-gold fire exploded outward from his chest, surrounding his body in a vortex of radiance. The ground beneath him cracked and split. Every inch of his wounded form was consumed by the explosion. The divine pressure radiating from it would have crushed anyone not spiritually fortified. Yet Tenzing didn't even flinch. He remained where he stood, still watching, still silent, and without intervening.

Amid the blinding golden light, the outline of Drake's body began to shift, no longer the shattered figure lying limp on the cracked stone. At first, his chest lifted almost imperceptibly, but then again, more steadily, as breath returned to him. His arms moved slightly, the muscles underneath twitching before settling into place, responding to commands they had not obeyed in minutes.

The storm of divine energy and Imperial Ki churned violently around him, very oppressive in its intensity. It carved away the damage without hesitation, fusing his broken bones without even the echo of pain, restoring ligaments and torn tissue with a cold efficiency that felt more mechanical than miraculous.

The skin over his ribs and legs, once torn, smoothed itself out in silence, until not a single scar remained. It was not a process of healing—it was replacement. The version of Drake that now emerged from the core of the explosion had not recovered from damage, but one that had been rewritten, restored exactly as the system dictated he should be.

The cracked earth beneath him shifted as his feet pressed into it, and his full weight returned. He rose, slowly but without hesitation, rising to his full height in absolute silence. There was no dramatic surge of power, he just stood tall, completely healed, the light around him dimming as if its task had been completed.

But while his body had been restored to perfection, the dark, tailored outfit he wore told another story. Tears ran down the sides of his jacket. One of the sleeves was frayed and hanging loosely from his shoulder, the other scorched and thin at the edges. The back of the coat was pockmarked with deep slashes. Blood no longer stained the fabric, but the reminders of how close he had come to death clung to every visible wound on the cloth.

Drake didn't move for several seconds. He only looked down at himself, eyes scanning the ruined outfit, observing the damage in a detached manner. His right hand lifted, almost lazily, brushing against a tear on the upper sleeve, his fingers pausing on the fabric as if trying to decide whether it was even worth acknowledging.

Tenzing had remained silent through it all, unmoving even in the heart of the explosion of Ki, his calm presence unchanged. But now he finally spoke again, his voice carrying the weight of his enlightenment, serene and reflective, neither impressed nor dismissive.

"You were never meant to die here… but I did not expect you to rise again so completely."

The monk said quietly, his gaze unwavering.

"What now rests within you is dark—immeasurably so—yet it holds no chaos, no disorder. It flows in balance, as if your soul had always known how to hold it. Truly perplexing."

Drake gave no sign that he heard him. His eyes were now on the battlefield once more, his gaze tracking across the distant rubble to where the four beasts he had summoned remained fallen. The Auroral Emberling Phoenix still glowed faintly with flickers of inner fire, but she was unconscious. The Obsidian Young Monkey, his frame bruised and limp, lay crumpled near a shattered wall. The Voidborn Basilisk Hatchling coiled loosely around itself, unmoving, while the Eclipsed Vermilion Dracling's massive chest barely rose with breath.

Drake's expression didn't change. He exhaled quietly, not with relief, and certainly not with frustration. He raised his left hand without warning, palm outward, and the air distorted around it. Four circular doors appeared beneath each beast. They were shaped like ancient scroll-hatchways, composed of fabric and wood, etched in runic ink, rotating with soft motion, exactly as the ones they came out from before. Without any force or sound, the doors opened fully beneath the bodies of the creatures. One by one, they were swallowed by the folds of the constructs, drawn in without resistance. The doors closed and vanished just as quietly, returning each of the beasts to the distant world they had come from.

Tenzing's voice came again, softer, more introspective.

"Even now, I speak knowing it will not reach you."

He said, watching Drake.

"There is something inside you that was not there before. Something weightless, yet unbearable. A malice that does not scream, nor grasp for vengeance. It simply is."

He took a step forward, hands still folded in front of his chest in a meditative seal.

"And yet… I sense no deviation in your karma. No fracture. It is whole. Unbent. That is illogical."

His voice lowered slightly, not out of anger or hesitation, but in acknowledgment of something beyond his understanding.

Drake said nothing. His eyes remained fixed ahead as his right arm slowly extended. With that single motion, a new system window bloomed in front of him, displaying glowing script that only he could see.

A sudden hum filled the air. Golden light poured from Drake's chest, swirling and mixing with a green radiance that pulsed like a heartbeat. Before him, an enormous and magnificent greatsword began to manifest. It was forged from the very essence of his golden Ki, fused with the soul-glow from within him. The blade, far larger than the blond himself, was a radiant construct of jade, polished to a divine sheen. Intricate carvings ran along its edge and spine, each a symbol of ancient truths known only to those who shaped the fate of entire worlds. Ornaments of gold and emerald lined the hilt, and a faint echo of chanting could be heard as the sword hovered in place, its presence overwhelming.

Tenzing watched in silence, his hands still clasped in front of him in a prayer position. When he finally spoke, his voice retained its calmness, but there was a weight behind his words.

"You call upon a treasure that recognizes your heart as pure, even now… This path you've chosen leads only toward ruin. The darkness inside you does not consume, but it blinds."

He lifted his gaze slowly, meeting Drake's eyes. That was the first moment the boy looked at him directly… The monk felt it instantly. A crushing pressure surged from the blond youth, not merely Ki, not just divine might. It was a murderous intent so dense, so sharp, it could cleave through reason. Drake wasn't angry in the traditional sense. His bloodlust was cold and controlled, but absolute.

Still, Tenzing did not falter. His mental state had been tempered through enlightenment. His clarity allowed him to speak without trembling. But before his words could continue, Drake raised his left hand and summoned a new system window, different in design, which hovered before him.

There was no gesture, nor verbal command. Only a mental confirmation, and Tenzing felt it immediately.

The world shifted beneath him. His divine glow—the shining aura that represented his temporary enlightenment—flickered, then disappeared like a candle suffocated by wind. He stumbled half a step back, not from pain, but from the sudden absence of harmony. His limbs, once brimming with clarity and balance, now felt empty. The perfect rhythm of his breath broke. His elevated senses dulled, his heart beat irregularly for the first time since attaining Artificial Buddhahood. His eyes widened—not in fear, but in genuine disbelief.

"What… what has changed?"

He muttered aloud.

"This… is not possible."

He looked at his hands, as if expecting them to glow once more, but there was nothing. No divine light… Only flesh.

The dissonance in the monk's core was still settling when it happened. The four paladins moved all at once.

They surged toward Drake like missiles, weapons drawn, righteous fury in their expressions hidden behind their helmets. The boy did not move. His legs remained rooted, and his posture unchanged. But his right arm lifted the jade greatsword, and it moved once in a single, horizontal arc.

Three of the paladins were no longer whole. Their bodies continued forward for a step before their heads slipped off cleanly, spinning through the air before striking the ground with dull, final thuds.

Only one remained—Sir Gideon, who had charged from the center.

He met Drake's gaze for a single moment before a foot slammed into his face with the force of a siege weapon. The impact cracked the divine helmet he wore, shattered the runes along the edges, and launched him backward with such force that his armored body became a blur. He crashed into the far wall of the battlefield like a cannonball, sending debris in every direction.

Drake finally spoke, his voice low and deliberate.

"The limit of my patience… was sparing your life the first time."

He said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced at Gideon's crumpled form.

"And that was only because I remembered how well you treated us when I first arrived in this city. Don't test me again."

Tenzing exhaled slowly. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face—cold, despite the heat in the air. His voice remained steady, but his stance shifted subtly, his muscles tense.

"So I was right… You are a danger. I cannot allow you to act freely. I will stop you here. Whatever it takes."

He took a single step forward… And his head fell from his shoulders.

For the briefest moment, his consciousness endured. His eyes remained open, still processing what had just happened. He saw the battlefield tilt sideways. He saw his own body, arms still raised in a defensive stance, still prepared to strike. His mind registered the absurdity of it all—the swiftness, the precision, the impossibility of reacting in time. Then everything darkened.

The monk's decapitated body crumpled forward, knees buckling, arms limp, and Drake began to walk.

Slow, deliberate steps carried him toward the fallen corpse of the man who had once stood above him in philosophy and skill. His sword dragged slightly behind him, its tip cutting a line into the broken earth.

He stared down at the headless body with no remorse. There was only a faint sense of finality in his eyes, as if the end had arrived not because of rage, but because of necessity.

He stopped a meter away.

"The only thing I regret is that the rest of 'Dragon Utopia' wasn't here to witness this moment."

He said, voice tinged with something between frustration and mockery. The bloodlust that had simmered now exploded behind his eyes. His pupils dilated, and a manic gleam burned in them—raw, unstable, electric. His mouth curled into a half-snarl, teeth clenched as if trying to suppress an overflowing wrath that threatened to spill into the world around him.

"No one touches MY team… No one touches what belongs to ME."

Without warning, the boy hurled the massive greatsword into the air. It spun once, then froze midair, hovering horizontally like a divine artifact awaiting its master's will. Drake crouched and jumped. His feet landed on the flat of the blade, and the moment his soles met the surface, the sword responded. Ki and divine energy surged beneath him, and in a blink, the blade took flight, carrying him skyward like a comet of light and jade.

He vanished into the distance, leaving only silence, ruin, and the stench of divine blood behind him.