Tales Of The Mighty Dragonair

The sizzling, strangely, continued for a really long time, that even Arthur had to stop the process more than once to make sure there was any blood remaining after all this.

He didn't know why, but the icy nature of that treasure inside his ring was like the nemesis of that bronzed giant blood.

'That blood is so dangerous, I should tread it with more care,' he muttered to himself, as even after five hours, the cleansing process still continued.

'Should I go back and wait until it's over?!!'

He was really shocked by the strange violent nature of that bronzed giant blood. Before he could finish his words, the whole process suddenly halted, as the sizzling faded away, abruptly as it started, and there was no more bronzed smoke coming out from this blood.

'I hope it's safe now,' he thought to himself as he took the blood out, after collecting it into the bowl. He then didn't rush to use it, but took his time examining it.

When he sensed no danger, he decided to start and do the unsealing process, the upgraded version of his. He took out his old brush, and imagined the word he would be writing over his body.

"Unseal"

This was the word in his mind, and as he started the process, a strange feeling erupted, with a fresh odor that made him feel extremely awful.

Before he felt immense pain, as this blood he just used didn't stain his skin, it completely burnt it.

'Damn you!' he muttered, gritting his teeth, withstanding the pain, as he swore to see this through!

Each time he used the blood, more pain would erupt, with the odor of his flesh being burnt. He was drawing a word, he was tattooing it over his body.

After immense pain, and much more will to resist the pain, he finished writing the seven words, forming a strange circle around an area of his chest, just above his heart.

He couldn't take it anymore, as his legs shook his balance off the ground, to fall on his knees, with exhaustion, mental and physical, taking their toll over him.

He felt the urge to sleep, but he didn't. He knew he wasn't finished yet, and since he was using such a sinister blood, he shouldn't close his eyes before wrapping everything.

So, resisting the urge to sleep, or even rest for a bit, he stood, hardly, on his legs, with the help of his sword, swearing to finish the final drawing before resting up.

He looked straight at the book, who was now lying on the ground, with the second page opened clear in front of him. He knew he couldn't take any more pain for a long time, so he pictured the easiest route to draw the dragon, he pictured the dragon, he pictured himself the dragon.

Flying in the heavens, unhindered by anything, a huge dragon looking with no interest over the worldly matters happening down below, with no rival or worry or fear, just flying past the heavens following his own desires.

As he pictured this, his hands worked, driven by a strange force, to draw the dragon over his bare area of chest, just over the heart, surrounded by the tattoos he just, painfully, made.

Before he knew it, the whole tattoo was drawn. Just as he finished from his imagination, he found the brush drawing the last brush over his chest, with a sting of pain, jolting him awake.

'What just happened?!' he asked himself with doubt, as this daydreaming felt so vivid like it was real. When his eyes examined the tattoo, he sighed in relief.

The task had been completed, finally, he could rest. Strangely, however, he didn't feel any more pain or exhaustion, like all what he felt from before was just an illusion!

"That's weird," he muttered, shaking his head, while examining the whole work again. his flesh was burnt black from the violent drawing process, but he didn't feel any pain in it. just as he leaned to pick the fallen book from the ground, he froze.

His whole body froze the moment it touched the book. He didn't know why, but the tattoo he just drew shone brightly, while he felt his entire body being set on fire.

It was like a huge hand extended from the tattoo he just drew, aiming for his heart. Just a few millimeters away from his heart, sudden chains appeared from the words he just wrote, catching this hand hard, preventing it from pushing its course for even a millimeter more.

'What the hell is that!'

He thought, with extreme horror, as this hand was exactly similar to the dragon hand of his, when he took part of that master's test. that hand held deep and pure ill intentions towards him, and without the presence of his runes, he would have long perished.

This master didn't leave behind the secret book of the dragonair, as it seemed he left behind part of his soul, waiting all this time for someone who was able to kill the bronzed giant he couldn't kill, then he would take over that person's body.

'Damn it! it's a reincarnation forced technique!'

He cursed, inwardly, for that sick wicked dragonair master of old. That hideous master had left behind a wisp of his soul, trying to take over the body of his, and reincarnate again!

'Hey, what are these chains?'

Suddenly, a strange voice echoed in his mind, as that master's wisp of soul seemed to sense the restraints provided by the runes Arthur made on his body.

'Bastard! All this effort is wasted because of you! Let go of me, let me take over your body, and make the dragonaires' golden age come forth.'

The words of that sneaky master were full of urge and stress, which made Arthur calm down for a bit. Soul matters weren't that easy to meddle with, and any soul attacks would be disastrous if they pass through the flesh and entered the soul deeply inside the body.

He was lucky, extremely lucky this time. though he meant for something else with his runes, his runes saved his life at the last second!

The thing that caused the soul of that master to shake of fear was the presence of that bronzed giant blood in these chains. Arthur felt astonished, how fear of that bronzed giant was deeply engraved inside that treacherous soul.

'No,' he firmly replied, 'you aren't qualified to bring anything to this world anymore. A soul who is afraid of its enemy doesn't deserve a second chance in this life,' he uttered his own beliefs, as this master's soul didn't deserve another chance, not with him or with anyone else.

To kill a soul you must use a soul natured attack or weapon. Though he had vast amounts of knowledge and experience, he didn't have anything in his mind to attack this soul and kill it.

But, he had another stroke of inspiration. He didn't delay as he mustered all his strength, and moved his hand carrying the brush. He withstood excruciating pain, torturing his soul right now, to add more pain to his suffering, and write one more word on top of the tattoo he just drew of that dragon, with one simple word he wrote over it.

"Kill!"

Once he wrote it, he felt extreme shock to his body. it was as if his whole soul was ripped apart, as a long, very sharp spear emerged suddenly from the word, heading straight towards the soul wisp, intending to kill it.

'If I die, your dragonair power will be lost! Everything you have comes from me, stop it or you will lose it all!!'

'Wrong!' Arthur panted while trying to maintain his consciousness, ' what I have came from the sacrifice of another person, dear to me. don't dare and compare yourself to her! You are a tiny dirty bug that only deserved to be smashed flat by my feet!'

'Roar!'

The screams and roars he heard came from that remaining wisp of that dreadful master, before the spear cut it through, killing every single bit of remnants of his.

Arthur felt extremely weak and fatigued, as he fell heavily on the ground. Amidst his last moments of consciousness, he felt he was seeing the bronzed giant he once killed, standing a few inches away from him, eyeing him with a conflicted look.

"Really a strange existence! A dragonair killing his own master, that's a first to hear of! It seems the days to come will be hard on my people. You are a worthy of admiration opponent! What a shame, that dragon girl managed to reach you first, what a shame!"

He couldn't maintain his eyes opened after these words, as he entered into deep slumber, losing track of both time and place, falling asleep from extreme pain and exhaustion.