Placidusax's dragon breath only melted the crude weapons clutched in the undead army's hands.
Their skeletal frames glowed red-hot—
But did not crumble.
Strengthened by Arthur's death authority, ordinary heat was meaningless to them.
One after another, the undead swarmed onto the dragonlord's colossal body.
They clawed.
Bit.
Scraped with bone and fang.
The damage?
Negligible.
Placidusax's scales were harder than bedrock.
But the humiliation?
Unbearable.
The dragonlord roared.
This time, it unleashed crimson lightning at full output.
The entire colosseum drowned in red.
Even the storm beyond flickered with its power.
Surely this would annihilate the grotesque corpses.
It did.
But that was exactly what Arthur intended.
Arthur had never expected the undead to truly injure Placidusax.
That was never their purpose.
Within each summoned corpse, he had embedded a spell:
Deathflame Burst.
The moment the undead bodies were destroyed—
The spell detonated.
Gray-white flames of death exploded outward.
Placidusax's lightning eradicated the army in an instant—
And triggered every single detonation.
Deathflame engulfed the dragonlord.
The explosions tore open scales.
And once ignited—
The flame fed on living flesh.
Burning hotter.
Stronger.
Clinging like parasitic rot.
Placidusax writhed in agony as the gray-white fire crawled over its body.
Arthur frowned.
This was stronger than anticipated.
He had intended only to injure the dragon.
Not to incinerate its entire corpse.
He still needed that body.
Placidusax's flesh would become bloodline essence—
Fuel for Ifrit's ascension.
He raised a hand.
The deathflame obediently withdrew, flowing back into him.
Placidusax felt the pain ease.
It lifted its heads.
But gratitude was not in its nature.
The wounds were Arthur's doing.
It would make him pay.
Arthur shifted tactics.
Death authority was too destructive for his goal.
So he summoned another power—
The blood of Mohg, Lord of Blood.
Crimson energy coalesced into thousands of threads.
They shot forward.
Piercing into the dragonlord's open wounds.
The threads drank.
Blood siphoned rapidly.
At the same time, they dulled Placidusax's senses.
The dragon thrashed violently.
Lightning talons slashed, severing strands.
But more replaced them instantly.
Placidusax realized something chilling.
At this rate—
It might become the first dragon in history to die of blood loss.
It abandoned the threads.
And charged Arthur directly.
If the source died—
The magic would end.
Arthur stepped onto the Dark Moon Greatsword.
Sword-flight activated.
He ascended swiftly.
He refused direct engagement.
He kited the dragonlord from afar.
Only a legendary blade refined into a natal flying sword could move at such velocity.
An ordinary flying sword—
Or a broomstick—
Would have been caught instantly.
Placidusax chased.
But could not close the gap.
Enraged—
It invoked time.
Invisible temporal force wrapped around Arthur.
His surrounding time flow slowed.
His speed diminished.
Arthur responded in kind.
Temporal authority surged outward—
Neutralizing the drag.
But Placidusax seized the opening.
It accelerated itself with time manipulation.
In the next instant—
It was before him.
It knew lightning was useless.
And Arthur had dodged its breath before.
So it combined both strategies.
Twin dragon heads exhaled—
And simultaneously froze time around Arthur.
No escape.
Arthur's heart tightened.
He unleashed his full temporal authority.
Time collided with time.
Space warped around him.
For a split second—
The arena itself distorted.
Just before the dragon breath struck—
Arthur shattered the temporal lock.
He Apparated.
Vanishing from the breath's path.
The next moment—
He appeared behind the dragon's neck.
The Dark Moon Greatsword rose.
And fell.
Too fast.
Too sudden.
Placidusax failed to react.
One massive head separated cleanly.
It continued spewing dragon breath midair—
Before blood erupted from the severed stump.
The dragonlord finally understood.
Another head—
Gone.
Agony exploded through its body.
It roared to the heavens.
And Arthur—
Had already retreated over a hundred meters away.
Watching calmly.
The battle had shifted again.
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