"Hah, if it isn't the infamous trio," Drogon smiled menacingly.
"You girls have cost me a lot—too many reports and punishments to receive if I return. But all that would be offset either by your capture or your death, and trust me, I'm more interested in the latter."
Seeing the fierce look on their faces as they prepared to attack without a word, Drogon shook his head.
"Tsk. Don't tell me you three are delusional enough to believe you can best me in battle. I mean, you have done so once, Iyvre, but that was before you got stuck and I broke through to the 2nd Rank. So just a friendly warning: it will be a futile struggle."
"Hmph! I told you we should have killed this punk back then," Yasmin hissed.
"I'm kinda regretting it now," Iyvre replied.
"Well, at least the scar you left across his face still remains, regardless of his breakthrough," Ayobe jested.
"Ooh, it was a big one too," Yasmin added with an exaggerated expression.
Seeing them ignore his threatening presence, Drogon refused to get agitated. He knew them, after all.
"Tsk. You bitches are just as good with words as you are in battle. Well—enough games."
With that, a blackish aura spread out from Drogon's figure, alerting the three elves as they prepared for Drogon's famous technique.
"Ooh, sorry to disappoint you girls, but I learned something new," Drogon smirked as he raised his hand. Opening his palm, his veins bulged and writhed with black blood as it burst out of his five fingers, coalescing into a black cloud of smoke that immediately took the form of a sinister-looking palm the size of an average person. It shot toward the trio.
"Be careful! Avoid being grabbed or cut by it!" Yasmin yelled as she raised both hands, blue spheres of light shooting out to collide against the dark palm.
Ayobe quickly sank into her shadow, while Iyvre charged forward, gripping her blade with both hands as it glowed white and vibrated even more vigorously.
The two spheres of light sank into the palm like stones into water, not even slowing its charge. But Yasmin clapped her hands the moment they sank in, causing them to explode from within. Muffled sounds escaped from the dark palm as it distorted and lost its shape—for only a moment—before coalescing back into the sinister palm. But before it could fully reform, Iyvre slashed her white-hot blade, tearing a huge cut across it, giving her the perfect chance to dart through and rush toward Drogon.
At the same time, a shadowy spot streaked across the ground, moving toward him.
Drogon curved his lips as he slammed his feet heavily on the ground. A dark aura burst forth from him, sweeping the entire area with force. Iyvre brandished her blade to block the sweeping pressure, but it pushed her back as she skidded across the muddy floor.
A figure was flung away from Drogon's shadow as Ayobe slammed her back against a tree, groaning in pain.
Yasmin tossed a reddish bottle toward the dark palm before it could fully reform. It burst into flames, consuming it.
Drogon groaned as his own palm turned red from the burn.
Seeing this, Iyvre advanced forward at astonishing speed, swinging her blade in a downward arc. Drogon brandished a dagger with his left hand, blocking the attack as sparks flew.
Iyvre didn't stop there. She continuously swung the blade, pushing him back. He kept parrying as he clenched his right arm, causing the dark palm to solidify again. He arched his fist, and the palm followed his gesture, changing direction and charging toward Iyvre. Not only that—Drogon cast another technique as his dagger glowed blood-red. He swiped it, and when it clashed again with Iyvre's blade, the force pushed her back into the trajectory of the palm.
Gritting her teeth, Iyvre's body glowed white as she vanished, reappearing on a distant boulder, panting heavily.
"Hmph."
Drogon swatted away flying spikes as he turned his gaze toward Ayobe leaping from tree to tree, firing hidden weapons his way. He hissed as the dark palm shot toward her, clenching around the tree she had just been on, shattering the poor oak as the broken wood began rotting rapidly.
Yasmin summoned an even bigger sphere of blue light, firing it toward Drogon. He turned to face it, recalling the palm as it clashed with the sphere.
Boom.
It blocked it and shot toward Yasmin. She gulped and leapt backward, summoning three fireballs that rapidly collided with the palm, not slowing it down.
Just as it was about to grab her, a white blade slashed across it, slowing it for a moment. Iyvre raised her leg and kicked Yasmin far away before pivoting midair to dodge the palm as it blew past her. But just as she was about to land, Drogon appeared in front of her, slashing his dagger at her waist.
Seeing it would be too late to bring her blade up to parry, she bent at an odd angle that let the blade miss—slightly. It still grazed her, leaving a long bleeding scar across her waist.
Seeing his attack miss, Drogon frowned and twisted the dagger for another strike. But a glint flashed before his eyes as Ayobe appeared at the right moment, swiping her short blade across his face.
Drogon bent slightly, dodging its edge, but Ayobe quickly twisted the blade in her hands from a slash to a thrust, stabbing it into Drogon's eye. Seeing the opportunity, Iyvre lunged forward and kicked him in the ribs before she and Ayobe put distance between them.
Drogon screamed in pain and rage as he clenched his bleeding eye, his black aura gushing out in waves. The three sisters glanced at each other—an opportunity.
Yasmin smashed a bottle against a tree, causing it to burst into clouds of smoke that enveloped the entire area.
Drogon growled. "Your petty tricks…"
He raised his bloody hand, pouring blackish Aether into it as a much larger palm formed above him before clenching into a fist and slamming into the ground. A wave of wind swept the smoke away, giving him full view of the area.
Drogon roared—those whores had eluded him again. He stared at the waterfall with his one functional eye, fury burning.
"I'll get you three. Even if you hide in the deepest pits of hell, I'll find you."