Time hung frozen—leaves suspended mid-fall, dust motionless in the air—yet Nolan and the Divine Dragon King still moved as if the pause never touched them. Nolan tightened his jaw. "Fine," he thought. "Then I'll put everything into this one punch."

He surged forward. The dragon met him with terrifying speed, lunging up and slamming a massive forelimb down. Nolan's fist rocked into the beast's jaw and drove it upward; the force alone sent a ripple through the frozen world. He followed with a relentless barrage—blows that landed like falling mountains. For a moment the dragon staggered, then pushed back, muscles coiling, eyes burning with a furious, restrained intelligence.

The dragon answered with a beat of its wings. The gust slammed into Nolan and threw him backward as the beast slammed down. Nolan hit his knees, then rose again, red, crimson flame crawling over his skin. He charged and, in a blur, kicked the dragon across the face. The creature raised a dark shield that swallowed the next impact.

"Impressive for a human," the dragon rumbled. "I never expected to meet anyone like you. You're stronger than the Behemoths. If you'd fought me before, maybe you might have hurt me, but now I've evolved—I keep getting stronger. You can't win."

"Speak for yourself," Nolan snarled, and hammered at the dark shield with everything he had. He snapped his fingers; time resumed. He wanted Lyra to get clear, wanted her gone from the blast radius even though the dragon's shield wrapped around them like night. He kept punching, fist after fist, and each impact detonated through the dragon's barrier—shocking blows that echoed as if the world itself answered.

"It's Inferno Flame." The Divine Dragon King opened its maw and unleashed a single blistering torrent of fire. Nolan braced, every instinct screaming to dodge—except he didn't. If he dodged, that blast could keep burning for two thousand kilometers; entire lives and towns could be lost. He would take it.

He wrapped himself in his shield and planted himself in its path.

The flame hit like the sun. Nolan's shield—dense, humming, everything he'd trusted—shivered, then exploded. For the first time, a direct hit had shattered his barrier. His combat suit didn't burn, but the magic that lent it strength fizzled and collapsed; its protective properties were gone. Nolan hit the dirt hard and tasted iron in his mouth.

"Holy hell," he thought. "Who is this dragon? It has to die."

Lyra's voice snapped in his ear, urgent and small against the roar. "Master, please—get out of here. Let's leave. You can't win."

Nolan pushed himself up on unsteady limbs. "No," he said. "You leave." He forced a smile that felt like glass. "Anything strong enough to reach two hundred kilometers—I'll make sure it doesn't go out of this place."

"You can't—" Lyra protested. "I won't let you—"

"It isn't up to you." Nolan's voice was flat, iron in it. He could feel the last of his reserves slipping away, but he refused to back down.

The dragon lashed its tail. Nolan had barely time to register the motion before the tail struck, flinging him through the air. He vanished from one place and reappeared another, slammed again by a second lash. The creature's forearm caught him and sent him crashing into the earth; the impact threw up a geyser of dirt. Nolan roared and rose, crimson flame crawling over his skin as he poured every ounce of energy he had into counterattacks—Holy Lancer, crimson strikes, whatever he could summon.

Each blow met a growing resistance. The dragon's body only hardened and grew stronger with every hit, shrugging off strikes that would have toppled lesser foes. It scraped Nolan's cheek with a claw so large it felt like a tree branch; blood spattered his face. The beast grabbed him with massive hands and smashed him into the ground again and again. The earth beneath them split and buckled; Nolan felt the world tear as a gaping wound opened beneath him.

He kept fighting until the world narrowed to pain and pressure. Breath rattling, blood in his mouth, he realized how suddenly his reserves had bled away—mana, strength, everything felt sapped. He remembered Lyra's earlier warning, remembered the time he'd watched her nearly fall to pieces when she fought.

"This can't be—" he managed. "Why—"

He didn't finish. The dragon's fists kept coming. Nolan was thrown into the maw of the crater the beast had carved; the world blurred and slipped away. He tasted copper and cold stone as he tumbled down and landed nearly twelve feet below the shattered surface.

"Master!" Lyra screamed, distant and ragged. Nolan's vision tunneled. He could hear her, could feel her panic like a hands-on pressure, but his voice came out thin and useless.

He tried to move. Pain screamed in his limbs. The ground around him trembled with the beast's thunderous breathing above. Nolan rolled onto his side, each breath a battle. His mana wells were nearly dry; the magic that used to answer his call felt miles away.

Above him, the Divine Dragon King roared—a sound that shook the canopy of the world—and the crater's rim smoked. Nolan blinked, tasted blood, and forced himself to stay awake. He'd underestimated how quickly this thing grew in the fight. He had to buy time, had to hold whatever little life he had left.

Lyra's voice again, softer now, but steady: "Master, please… come back to me."

Nolan swallowed, clutched at the dirt, and answered with the weight of whatever stubbornness remained in him: "I will."

Nolan couldn't move. Nolan forced himself to rise. He blinked at the pale slit of sunlight above and reached up with shaking fingers. The Divine Dragon King loomed over him, huge even from twelve feet down in the crater. Nolan barely had strength to breathe. The Inferno Flame had not only scorched flesh — it had corrupted the very weave of mana around him, shredding his connection to power. He felt half-alive, a body with a fading spark.

The dragon peered down, amusement in its vast eyes. It opened its maw and poured out a roiling column of fire and divine energy — Absolute Supremacy.

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