To be honest, looking at the other party's posturing, Caesar felt no ripples in his heart.
Dumbass.
Giving up a high-HP, high-defense, and high-attack Dragon form just to act cool in a fragile human form.
Fine by me; it saves me from having to look up while fighting.
In the next second, Caesar moved.
His black cloak left an afterimage in place as his figure vanished instantly, leaving only a dull boom in the air.
However, not a trace of surprise flashed in Fafnir's red eyes. At the same instant Caesar's figure vanished, he took a seemingly casual half-step back, his right fingers pressing the air in front of him as if playing a piano—
[Draconic Secret Art: Flame Ring Barrier]! (A Fusion of multiple Secret Arts)
Five scorching dark-red rings of fire emerged out of thin air. They weren't for attacking, but were nested layers centered on him, rotating rapidly. The fire rings disturbed the airflow and even distorted light; any object attempting to pass through them, whether physical or via a stealth technique, would have its trajectory exposed and suffer a Burn in the high temperature and magical turbulence.
Sure enough, Caesar's ghostly figure was forced to reveal a slight outline disturbance at the edge of the third fire ring.
"Found you."
Fafnir's voice was calm and steady. His right hand, covered in fine dragon scales, didn't block. Instead, it accurately reached into the gap of the fire ring's turbulence, fingers forming a claw. He didn't take the hit head-on but used a more subtle angle to pull and guide it toward his side and rear!
[Draconic Magic: Dragon Strength]!
"Clang—Sizzle!"
The ear-piercing clash was mixed with the strange sound of flames burning shadows. Caesar's certain-hit strike was diverted; his claws grazed Fafnir's shoulder blade, only tearing the ornate clothing and leaving a trail of sparks on the dragon scales beneath. Meanwhile, Fafnir's left hand, already wrapped in highly compressed pale dragon flames, silently pressed toward the opening under Caesar's ribs exposed by the attack.
Warning bells rang in Caesar's mind. He was forced to twist his body and use his left arm to tank this insidious Dragon Flame Palm.
"Bang!"
Amidst a muffled thud, Caesar was knocked back. The lower-left hem of his cloak was charred black, and a stinging pain from the scorched flesh radiated through him. Fafnir was only pushed back half a step by the impact, the stone slabs beneath his feet cracking, but his posture remained elegant and composed. In their first exchange, relying on tactics and technique, he seemingly held a slight upper hand.
"Your strength is acceptable, but your technique... is too direct," Fafnir commented, shaking his wrist. The interest in his crimson vertical pupils grew stronger. "But your elemental composition is very messy: Ghost, Steel, Poison... and even a trace of unpleasant Dragon Element. Just what are you?"
Caesar didn't answer, a fierce light flashing in his eyes. [Slash]! He lunged again, his right claw tearing through the air, guided by an instinct for finding weaknesses, aiming straight for Fafnir's throat.
This time, Fafnir didn't meet it head-on or cast a spell. His body leaned back with a fluidity that defied gravity, while his right leg whipped out—not to kick Caesar, but to stomp hard on the ground in front of him!
[Combat Technique: Magma Stomp]!
Boom! With his landing point as the center, the stone slabs within a several-meter radius instantly turned into molten red magma. The scorching heatwaves and viscous resistance immediately restricted Caesar's movement. Fafnir used the recoil to leap back lightly, exiting Caesar's optimal attack range.
"I've already seen through seventy percent of your attack patterns," Fafnir said flatly, hovering at the edge of the magma pool. "You rely on speed that defies common sense and multi-attribute mixed attacks to suppress your opponent, specializing in vital points with a ruthless style, but... you lack variation. You are an assassin, not a warrior."
As he spoke, he gripped the air with both hands. Two ancient and elegant longswords, formed from highly condensed fire elements, extended and took shape in his hands.
"Next, let me teach you what true 'close combat' is."
Before his voice faded, Fafnir's figure vanished. It wasn't the stealthy speed Caesar used, but an explosive linear lunge, trailing a series of sonic booms and fiery afterimages! His dual swords slashed in mysterious trajectories, sealing off all of Caesar's evasion space. The intense heat even caused the air to begin burning.
Caesar was forced to push his quadruple enhancements to their limit, his claws swinging into a storm of death to barely hold off this violent yet exquisite Swords Dance. The sound of claws clashing with swords was like heavy rain hitting duckweed, with sparks and shattered energy flying everywhere. The plaza ground continuously cracked and melted under the terrifying footsteps and energy ripples of the two "men."
Otto was already stunned. This was no longer a battle between humans, but a life-and-death struggle between two humanoid ferocious beasts.
However, after dozens of rounds of fierce fighting, Caesar's heart was sinking. Fafnir fought faster and steadier, those fire swords seemingly an extension of his limbs, moving with a rhythm forged through a thousand trials. More terrifyingly, the opponent seemed to be adapting to and analyzing the patterns of his mixed attacks; his parries and counters were becoming increasingly targeted.
"Clang—Boom!"
After another full-force clash, the two Dragons separated again. Caesar was slightly out of breath, his cloak riddled with damage. Fafnir stood with his swords, his breathing still long and steady, with only a few strands of red hair on his forehead dampened by sweat.
"I have to admit,"
"Not bad."
Fafnir spoke, his voice carrying definite praise and a condescending regret.
"Your strength far exceeds my estimates. Speaking of the Gold Rank alone, you are the most dangerous short-lived species I have ever seen—perhaps without exception. I, Fafnir Sebastian, am willing to call you the strongest."
With a gentle shake, the fire swords in his hands dissipated.
"But, it ends here." Fafnir's gaze became incredibly sharp, a decisiveness born from piercing through the essence of things. "Your power is mixed but cannot be harmonized into one; your tactics are efficient but lack fluidity. As a short-lived species, this should be your limit... and for me, below the Legendary rank, all are but ant."