The Seven Demon's Tamer

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!!!*

The explosion that followed was muffled, contained within the dragon's sealed jaws, but it was no less devastating in the slightest. The creature's own red flames, compressed and concentrated within its closed mouth, became a weapon turned against itself in the most brutal way possible.

The dragon's head began to expand like a grotesque balloon, the scales stretching abnormally, beyond any reasonable limit.

Then, the explosion erupted from within, sending fragments of bone, scale, and flesh in all directions. Black blood rained down across the crater like a gentle shower.

It would be safe to say this was done mostly by the force of the explosion rather than the flame, because the red flame would have been too merciful to spray out blood. It would have erased its head into nothing.

The sound of the explosion that had occurred echoed across the devastated landscape, marking the end of one terrifying familiar from the black marked section of Astral Shadow Plane.

"Well, calling the flame attack slow was greatly ironic," Zhou muttered to himself, licking off the blood that had rained on his lips. "No one in this field could be referred to as fundamentally slow."

He was right, of course. The dragon's flame attack, which had felt like it took ages to form, had actually been building for at most one second.

However, with the speed they were all harboring—the extraordinary quickness that came with their transformations—even a single second felt abnormally long.

Zhou felt like he had actually been forced to wait for the attack to form, standing there and waiting for the precise moment, just to demonstrate how slow it felt to him.

"That is one down!" Zhou declared, his voice carrying grimness. His gaze remained fixed on the dragon's remaining head—the orange-eyed dragon that had somehow survived the bamboo thrust.

The surviving head struggled with surprising strength against the bamboo restraints, but still its movements were sluggish as its strength wasn't enough.

However, even as he stood there, staring at the results of his attack, Zhou could feel his vision going hollow. The strain of maintaining his panda form while simultaneously channeling such massive amounts of gamma energy was beginning to take its toll.

The bamboo forest around him, which had been glowing with vibrant purple energy just moments before, dimmed slightly. The stalks that had seemed so alive and responsive to his will were now losing their ability to respond.

He had used everything—all his most vital techniques, every ounce of gamma energy he had in him.

The combination of his familiar transformation with the full activation of his affinity was the fundamental aspect in all this, that had pushed him to the very edge of what his body could endure.

The dragon that was restrained firmly broke free with ease.

***

Meanwhile, across the devastated landscape, Valachi was rushing toward the direction of the double-headed dragon's battle, his remaining leg carrying him in desperate leaps that covered quite impressive distance with each hop.

His breathing came in gasps—not from physical exhaustion, but from the overwhelming aura radiating from Ryder that seemed to follow him no matter how much distance he put between them.

It was suffocating.

The air itself seemed thicker around Ryder, as if the young man's very presence was altering the atmosphere.

His decision to seek out the double-headed dragon wasn't any mastermind strategy to team up and strike back—it was a strategy to escape alive. He knew instinctively that this would also be Draki's decision after the warning he had given.

They all understood, with certainty, that the double-headed dragon was the slowest among their trio. Its massive size, while granting it tremendous physical power and nearly impenetrable defenses, also made it the most sluggish.

Meeting up with it instead of waiting for it to reach them was the smartest and fastest choice.

The plan was simple: regroup, combine their remaining strength, and get the hell off the plane of planet Terra before Ryder could finish what he had started.

But as Valachi desperately hurried across the scarred landscape, desperately trying to put distance between himself and the terrifying presence that Ryder had become, an explosion resounded from the direction he was heading.

The sound was so loud and abnormal that it sent a physical shockwave rippling through the air, blowing a sharp wave of dust that made him halt.

'What the hell,' Valachi thought, his single white eye widening as he processed what he was experiencing.

This was the second menacing force that had blown past him from the direction of the double-headed dragon's battle. The first had been Zhou's devastating slam attack, but this explosion carried a different quality—more violent, more... deadly.

From his position, still miles away from the actual battlefield, Valachi's enhanced senses could detect something that filled him with dread.

One consciousness was down. One of the beasts that had descended from the Astral Shadow Plane had been eradicated completely.

Someone had managed to defeat part of the dragon.

Valachi's wounds from his encounter with Ryder had already begun to close, the torn flesh reforming with the supernatural healing speed that was standard among black-marked beasts.

For creatures of their caliber, regenerating fatal wounds within seconds was as natural as breathing.

Even the weakest inhabitants of the black-marked section of the Astral Shadow Plane possessed such quick healing, so it was no surprise that Valachi's injuries and severed limbs were back as if he had never been hurt.

Gathering all the gamma energy he could muster, channeling every ounce of power necessary for the motion, Valachi blasted himself even farther away from Ryder's position with the greatest speed he had ever moved with.

***

Back at the crater where the double-headed dragon lay broken and partially destroyed, Zhou exhaled heavily, then inhaled deeply, the process repeating, which was evidence that he had pushed his body far beyond its natural limits.

His massive chest rose and fell with each breath, and even through his transformed state, the signs of exhaustion were becoming impossible to hide on the outside.

On the inside, he was facing even worse. His gaze had hollowed and even the sound of his breath was fading.

Using the affinity of one's marked familiar was demanding enough under normal circumstances. This was the exact reason why most Tian members, despite having the ability, don't go around using it always.

It required channeling energies that were never meant to flow through human bodies, forces that could burn out and destroy organs if abused or used wrongly.

But merging to transform into a familiar form was exponentially more demanding. The process didn't just channel energy—it altered the user's physical and internal structure, forcing human internals to embrace and temporarily assume powers and capabilities that belonged to entirely different forms of life.

The combination of strain and backlash could cripple those who over-exerted power from the transformed state.

What Zhou had been performing was the deadly scenario that every Master of such skills would warn against: the simultaneous use of transformation and affinity techniques, channeling the full power of his familiar at its absolute peak while maintaining a form that his body was never supposed to be in.

Worse still, he had been using the special techniques reserved for final blows—the devastating attacks that were meant to be used once and only once, techniques so powerful that they would render the familiar who owns them completely defenseless shortly after activation.

And now, having successfully gone this far and used techniques to accomplish part of his goal, Zhou was facing the inescapable consequence.

He didn't only use too much power than he should have—he had reached his absolute limit.

His towering panda frame began to shrink visibly, the large size and muscle that had made him an extra formidable opponent slowly lessening as his body underwent the transformation back to human form.

All around the battlefield, the bamboo forest that had emerged from the landscape began to wither and deteriorate.

The stalks that had been brimming with purple energy, glowing with the concentrated force of his gamma power, were losing their vibrant glow completely.

The supernatural light that had made them seem almost alive was dimming and weakening, leaving behind nothing.

The double-headed dragon, which had been sprawled and restricted in the crater, had gotten back to its feet. The red-eyed dragon neck hung limply as the main body got its footing.

Black blood continued to drip from the remains, creating small pools in the crater's floor.

Despite the devastating damage it had sustained—despite the loss of one entire head and the crippling injuries to its body—the creature was not finished.

Its surviving head that had been lifted stared at Zhou, the orange eyes focusing with emotions—negative emotions and killing intent.

It wanted revenge, just like Zhou had wanted the moment Ryomen had died.

'I guess this is the end for me,' Zhou thought, a peaceful smile spreading across his features as he felt his knees begin to buckle.

The transformation was complete now, leaving him in his human form, exhausted and defenseless.

'I have no regrets now. Why should I, in the first place?'

'I've avenged Ryomen. Now I hope someone will avenge me too—today, or some other day.'

"The red flame doesn't melt," a familiar voice spoke from beside Zhou, the tone a thought he would never hear again. "It erases objects out of existence. I'll take a mental note on that so I won't repeat the mistake of falling into a tunnel of flame blast."

"Ryomen!" The name escaped his lips as barely more than a whisper.

"You are alive!"

"Yeah," Ryomen responded, and to Zhou's amazement, there was something in his skeletal features that Zhou had never expected to see even in his wildest dreams—a smile.

The expression looked strange on the undead warrior's face—seeing bones curved to assume a smiling face made it look like a creature from a child's nightmare, but it was genuine. "Alive and kicking, as some would say."

"You did well, Zhou," Ryomen continued, his voice carrying a warmth that was completely at odds with his fearsome appearance. "I never knew you cared for your comrades so much, given your crazy lunatic nature."

"How are you alive?" Zhou couldn't help but mutter, his voice thick with emotion and exhaustion.

"Did you expect an undead to die?" Ryomen chuckled, the sound emerging like it was telegraphed without vocal cords. "I am already dead while in my transformed state."

The explanation was simple, but only now was Zhou beginning to understand. The nature of Ryomen's familiar—the Graveskull Undead. In his transformed state, he existed in a space between life and death, making him uniquely resistant to attacks that were supposed to kill.

His body truly had been reduced to nothing when he fell into the flame attack, and so he regenerated out of nothing too. He regenerated his whole body.

"You've done your part," Ryomen continued, his hollow eye sockets focused on the dragon in the crater below. "It's my turn to do mine."

Zhou felt his legs finally give out completely, his exhausted body collapsing to the ground as the last of his energy reserves finally gave up. His vision was finally dimmed completely and his consciousness faded off, but he had a smile on his face.

But even as he fell into the darkness of unconsciousness, he managed one more thought through his mind.

'Do you really think you can take on that remaining head on your own?'

Ryomen watched as Zhou lost consciousness, his friend's body going limp against the ground. Only after he was certain that Zhou was safely unconscious did he respond as if he had heard the final thought, his voice carrying apparent confidence.

"Do you think you are any stronger than me?"

The rhetorical question came out from Ryomen's gut as he took several steps forward, his skeletal form moving casually—he was ready to face the dragon's surviving head.

However, he noticed something that made him pause.

The creature was barely paying him any attention, as if he didn't exist. Its orange eyes were fixed with laser focus on Zhou's unconscious form, and the killing intent radiating from the dragon was so intense that it was almost visible in the air between them.

It was as if its killing intent blinded it from seeing anything other than Zhou.

"Well," Ryomen halted now and stole a glance at Zhou's unconscious body on the ground, understanding the situation. "I guess I'll use you as bait, Zhou."

As he spoke, claws began to extend from Ryomen's knuckles like gauntlets, stretching out so long that they scraped against the ground with each movement.

"This is going to be easier than I anticipated."

"Now let me demonstrate the exact capability of my affinity," Ryomen declared, his voice carrying across the battlefield even though there was no one present he was talking to. "The Death's Embrace."

*Swoosh.*

Ryomen's body sprinted across the field with explosive speed, moving in a wide arc toward the dragon. His skeletal form blurred with motion, covering ground with the speed of light.

As he ran, his mind focused on the technique he was about to employ.

"The Death's Embrace is an affinity like no other," he continued speaking to himself. "Perfect for my nature as an undead. It allows me to deliver the same kind of attack I received."

The best parts of his affinity were both simple and effective. It wasn't selective based on the power level of incoming attacks—as long as it was an assault that caught Ryomen while the technique was active, the attack would be stored in perfect detail and could be delivered at its maximum power whenever Ryomen willed it, but only once.

The description of maximum power was no exaggeration. Even if a massive attack like an atomic bomb devastated an entire city, and somehow only a very tiny fraction of the explosion managed to graze Ryomen's body, he would be able to replicate the attack at the same level that had destroyed the city—not just the minor force that had actually touched him.

It was the perfect ability for someone for whom death wasn't a problem.

The moment Ryomen had returned to this battlefield, he had stated exactly what he intended to use to finish off the surviving head of the dragon.

His earlier observation about the red flames—"The red flame doesn't melt, it erases objects out of existence"—hadn't been mere commentary.

He had experienced that attack firsthand, felt its deadly capability as it had consumed his skeletal form, and now he was going to turn that exact devastating power against his opponent.

The dragon, still consumed by its desire for revenge against Zhou's unconscious form, didn't notice Ryomen's approach until it was far too late.

Its orange eyes remained fixed on the motionless human, not moving to strike yet only because it hadn't completely regenerated its legs that had been twisted when Zhou had slammed its body to the ground.

Reaching the perfect striking range, Ryomen stretched his clawed hand outward and firmly placed it against the head of the orange-eyed dragon.

"Big guy," Ryomen said conversationally, his hollow voice carrying across the crater with perfect clarity. "I am ecstatic that we share the same views about revenge, but you will be going down now, and forever."

***GRAVESKULL TECHNIQUE: DEATH'S EMBRACE INVERSE!***

This was it—Ryomen activating the technique. The Death's Embrace was finally being used in its ultimate form, turned against the being who had provided the very weapon for its own destruction.

From Ryomen's palm, pressed firmly against the surviving dragon's head, a blast of red flame exploded with devastating force. But this wasn't just any flame—this was the dragon's own attack, stored at its peak power and now delivered to the dragon's head.

The flames that erupted from Ryomen's hand carried all the properties that made the dragon's breath so terrifying: the ability to erase rather than merely burn, the incredible concentrated force that no defense could stop.

The red flames consumed the creature's head completely, spreading outward from Ryomen's palm in a sphere shape.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

Then, slowly, the massive form began to lose balance as it had been rendered lifeless.

Thud!

Ryomen stood over the corpse, his skeletal form lost in the obscuring dust and smoke as the lifeless dragon hit the ground. His claws slowly retracted back into his knuckles, the weapons no longer needed now that his enemy had been completely eliminated.