Chapter 25: Dragon Blood (33%)

Chapter 25: Chapter 25: Dragon Blood (33%)

The man standing behind Michael was large—no, that word didn’t even begin to describe just how massive he really was.

"Hahaha. You’re still standing?" he muttered with a low, ugly snicker.

His long brown hair, tied back in a single braid, and his large brown beard, also braided, whipped slightly in the air as he offered Michael a warm smile.

It was a friendly smile.

One that Michael found deeply unsettling.

"Well, I guess that little tap was just me testing the waters."

His small smile widened into a smirk. "The next one’s gonna cave your skull in for real."

Michael glared at the man even through the loud ringing echoing in his head from the earlier blow. Blood continued its slow trickle down one side of his face.

Gradually, he steadied his bobbing head and forced a cracked laugh out of his throat.

"Hah. Idiot. You should have finished me with the sneak attack while you had the chance."

He pushed his staggering feet forward before the last word had fully left his mouth.

"Now you’re dead."

The large man’s grin broadened as he brought the war hammer down in a vicious vertical arc, aiming straight for Michael’s head.

Michael waited until the last possible moment before throwing himself to the side.

The hammer crashed into the floorboards where he had been standing, splintering the wood and sending dust into the air.

The weapon lodged deep into the floor for a brief moment.

Michael immediately stepped onto the lower part of the hammer’s haft and used the embedded weapon as leverage to propel himself forward.

The giant barely had time to wrench the hammer free before Michael was already within striking distance.

Michael jumped.

His legs spread around the giant’s shoulders before snapping inward, locking tightly around his neck.

Using the momentum of his leap, Michael twisted his body and pulled himself downward, forcing the giant’s head forward.

Then his hands came up, both thumbs driving straight toward the man’s exposed eyes.

"Arghhhh!"

A raw, animal scream tore from the man’s throat.

Michael released his hold of the large man’s head and dropped away just as another swordsman rushed in from the side.

He immediately lowered his body, dropping into a crouch. As the swordsman’s blade sang through the air, Michael planted one hand firmly against the floor to support his weight, then pivoted on that hand and swept his leg in a wide arc.

His heel caught the swordsman’s legs from the side and knocked both feet out from under him.

The swordsman lost his balance and crashed toward the floor.

Michael pushed off his planted hand, quickly regained his footing, and brought his leg down in a controlled smash against the side of the man’s head.

Michael remained in his low, slightly crouched stance, his chest rising and falling heavily.

Then a short, sharp laugh escaped him.

It was a laugh of pure satisfaction, as if fighting with his life on the line was nothing more than a game to him.

Across the room, the scarred leader’s golden eyes had gone completely cold.

He watched the young man standing in the center of the wreckage with a new sense of calculation. ’It seems I was wrong again. This kid is definitely different from the usual trash that wanders in.’

His brows furrowed. ’But... he doesn’t fight like a gallant hero or one of those silver-spoon academy brats. He fights almost like a mercenary who learned everything the hard way.’

Michael’s next movements only confirmed the thought.

A lanky man rushed at him again, and he simply stepped inside his attack, driving a knee into the man’s groin before pivoting away.

Another attacker closed in from the side, Michael slammed a precise open-palm strike into the side of the woman’s chest—angled so the force caught the soft underside of her breast and the sensitive nipple beneath the thin tunic

She folded with a choked cry.

Michael immediately used her falling body as a point of leverage, pushing off and spinning away before cracking his heel against the temple of the next attacker.

The leader’s jaw tightened. ’No...’

His gaze sharpened. ’This isn’t just a mercenary way of fighting.’

His eyes remained fixed on Michael. ’This kid... no, this monster fights almost like a demon.’

"Everyone surround him!" the scarred man barked. "All at once!"

As if puppets controlled by strings, several men surged forward, their brandished weapons aimed at him.

Michael slipped between the first two, then used the third as a momentary shield before making a break for the narrow wooden staircase that led to the upper gallery.

The gallery—a long, railed balcony that looked down over the main floor—offered tighter footing and forced the pursuers into single file. Men charged up from both ends of the hallway. The narrow width made them hesitate; no one wanted to skewer the ally coming from the opposite direction, and that very pause was what Michael needed.

He ducked the first punch, redirected the man into the wall, then caught the second attacker’s extended wrist, twisted, and drove the joint past its limit. The wet crack of bone was loud even over the shouting below.

Just as Michael was beginning to feel confident that he was at least going to beat them enough to impress Seraphine—the floor beneath his boots began to tremble violently.

It felt as though a horde of wild animals had been let loose inside the inn.

Fine dust shook and jumped lightly off the floor.

Michael’s head snapped left, then right, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from, but no matter where he looked, he couldn’t see anyone. No one on the gallery was heavy enough to cause that kind of vibration.

Finally, as if pulled by an invisible suppressing force, his gaze locked onto the closed door directly in front of him.

A single number was marked across it.

24.

"Shit—"

The door and a large section of the adjoining wall exploded outward in a storm of splinters.

The same giant from before shouldered through the wreckage, blood still streaming from both ruined eye sockets, a manic grin splitting his face.

"Don’t tell me you already forgot about me, huh, pretty boy!"

Michael’s expression twisted. ’Don’t tell me...’ he thought, eyes narrowing. ’This damned bastard actually circled the entire building blind just to catch me off guard?!’

Even though he was panicking internally, he still forced his mouth into a grin.

"You damn big oaf!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, shifting his stance in preparation for retreat. "Can’t you just stay down for five minutes?!"

The giant’s laugh was pure delight. "Why would I stay down when something this fun finally showed up?!"

Both massive arms spread wide as he lunged forward. "Come give Uncle a hug!"

With nowhere left to run, Michael vaulted over the railing without hesitation, middle finger raised high.

"Go hug your mother, you fucker! I don’t swing that way!"

The giant’s ruined eyes somehow tracked the motion through sound alone.

"You jumped? Hahaha! You’re even crazier than I am!"

He dropped into a low stance.

Crack!

As if crying out one final plea to the giant, the floorboards groaned beneath him, spiderweb cracks spreading rapidly under the sudden pressure of his legs.

Michael’s eyes widened mid-fall.

’No way this bastard is about to—’

The giant launched upward like a spring and immediately locked both hands around Michael’s ankles while he was still in the air.

The moment he caught him, the giant’s weight pulled him back toward the ground. His feet slammed into the wooden floor hard enough to crack the boards beneath him, but his attention never left Michael.

With a roar, he raised Michael high and slammed him hard into the ground.

Michael’s entire world turned into a white flash as his back and shoulders struck the tavern floor hard enough to drive the air from his lungs.

The giant straightened, still gripping one ankle. "Don’t worry. I’m not killing you just yet."

He swung Michael in a short arc before releasing him.

The young man’s body flew across the room and smashed into the far wall. He slid down into a half-sitting position, blood running from multiple cuts, one eye forced shut by the thick flow across his brow.

Michael forced his working eye open.

Slowly, he pushed himself upright, one arm clamped against his ribs.

"Fuck... that one hurt. You brute, ever heard of being gentle?"

The scarred leader stepped into the cleared space, his expression almost pitying.

"Looks like you’re finished, kid." He smiled slightly. "I’d advise you to surrender while you can still talk."

Michael’s head dipped for a second before he yelled, his voice carrying through the tavern.

"No!"

He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of a trembling hand and let out a short, breathless chuckle.

’This isn’t enough for her, huh?’

A dark snicker escaped him, a furious glint flashing in his eyes. ’I’ll be sure to teach her a lesson later. There’s more than one way to beat a person, after all.’

He straightened as much as the pain allowed and gave the entire room the same arrogant grin he had worn at the start.

"If this is all you can manage, then... none of you are worthy of taking me captive."

The leader shook his head once, almost regretful, and flicked his fingers.

"Grolm. Finish it."

The giant roared and charged.

Michael closed his eyes.

He already knew the truth...

Against this many opponents, in this condition, as an ordinary human—even an Awakened one—he had no path to victory.

The only remaining option required something he had barely begun to understand.

He reached inward, toward his draconic bloodline and the Dragon Heart within him.

Badump!

Badump!

Bad—!

For one long second, Michael’s heartbeat went completely still.

Another second passed.

Then another.

And then—

BADUMP!

His heart slammed back to life like it had been struck by a sudden burst of adrenaline, beating at a frantic, thunderous pace.

Fine, almost invisible scales bloomed along the back of his neck and raced upward toward his jaw.

The soft rose-pink of his irises bled away, replaced by a solid, glowing crimson.

Grolm’s charge faltered for a single heartbeat at the sight of those glowing red eyes staring directly at him.

But before he could pull himself together, he realized something.

Michael was no longer slumped against the wall.

In a blur of motion, he had already closed the distance.

Michael appeared in mid-air directly in front of the giant’s face, his fist already traveling, his knuckles stopping just a finger’s width from Grolm’s nose.

Ding!

[Host Current Rank: Qi Refining — Stage 1.]

[Current Output: 33%.]

Michael’s voice came out low and steady, the earlier strain completely gone.

"Didn’t I tell you?... This much is nothing."