Evil Dragon, Without a Princess, I Had to Transform Myself!

Chapter 107 : Burning

Loranhir mustered her courage to examine this legendary evil dragon.

The dragon's body was roughly estimated to be nearly a hundred meters long. Her pitch-black scales resembled symbols of death, while her face adorned with bony protrusions exuded the dignity of a superior being. The distinctive massive black wings and its proudly erect form were covered in a beauty of darkness, profundity, power, and solemn lethality.

Loranhir knew well that her cultural literacy was limited, and she lacked the vocabulary to describe such majesty and beauty.

"…Patunasankus?"

Loranhir cautiously called the ancient dragon's name, fearing it might hear and unleash a scorching Dragon Fire upon their location.

"But why would she appear in this city?" Like everyone present, Loranhir couldn't help but ponder this question.

The unexpected visitor had abruptly disrupted the thoughts of all those gathered.

Including Dreka, everyone's attention was fixated on the ancient dragon spewing Dragon Fire from the clock tower.

The Dragon Fire burned, evaporating the river of blood. The flames fanned by the wind leaped wildly and recklessly in mid-air.

Loranhir didn't understand why a legendary evil dragon would appear in this remote corner of Taurant, nor could she comprehend why she had chosen to scorch the river of blood.

The scene unfolding before her felt as unreal as a dream.

Could it simply be for amusement?

Loranhir couldn't figure it out.

But she was certain—this evil dragon was undoubtedly Patunasankus.

The Black Death, Patunasankus.

The same Black Death Patunasankus from whose lair she had rescued the Princess.

Wait, the Princess?

Suddenly, Loranhir understood. Could it be that this creature had come for the Princess?

That had to be the only explanation.

Loranhir grew tense.

Oh no, had the Black Death come seeking them out because of Princess Latifa after all?

She had been carrying the Princess with her, clinging to the hope that they wouldn't encounter the Black Death, but it seemed that hadn't worked.

But what should she do now?

Loranhir felt a chill in her heart—a cold, ruthless chill that had been spreading uncontrollably since she witnessed Patunasankus spewing Dragon Fire, as if eager to merge with the blossoming flames.

Suppressing this strange impulse, she shifted her gaze and fixed it on Dreka, who stood motionless like a wooden stake just a few meters away.

What a calamity.

They hadn't even dealt with one vampire overlord, and now a legendary evil dragon had come to reclaim the Princess.

…Dreka was no longer arrogant. His face was now blank, his smile frozen, his eyes staring fixedly at the hellish souls of the river of blood being incinerated to ashes under the scorching tongues of flame.

Who would have thought that just minutes ago, he was a vampire overlord with tens of thousands of resurrection chances, merely one step away from ascending to an ancient progenitor.

Dreka looked down at his palm, where only a bloody '1' remained.

He had been playing cat and mouse so well—who could have predicted a giant dragon would descend from the sky and ruin all his plans?"Gone, all gone." Dreka murmured gloomily, his vampire elegance forcing him to strain to maintain his facial composure, yet despite this, his complexion remained as unpleasant as a bitter gourd.

Dreka cast a wary glance at Loranhir. The situation had changed—directly confronting this hero alone was clearly no longer a wise move.

"Attendants, to my side."

The vampire overlord's direct command was issued instantly. Vampire knights active throughout Taurant immediately ceased their blood feasting, transforming into black mist one after another, materializing in the central square.

"Kill them," Dreka commanded.

Upon receiving the Grand Duke's order, all present vampire knights swarmed forward. The familiar yet perpetually forgettable shadowy figures in black robes stood silently, their expressionless faces obeying Dreka's summons.

They charged forward.

Loranhir looked up, her heart nearly leaping from her throat.

She instinctively tried to summon Yanubi's power, but the wyvern Yanubi trembled fearfully, shrinking back as if encountering something terrifying. Instead, a surprising bitter cold emerged.

The golden hue in Loranhir's pupils intensified uncontrollably, drawing upon a power that had been stirring restlessly since earlier, as if attracted by something.

'When needed, chant my name.' It was as if Liulansankus's earlier words echoed in her ears.

"Liulansankus." As Loranhir uttered the name, the sound of shattering ice followed, accompanied by a low, rumbling roar. Countless vampire knights were torn into fragments and sent rolling. All around, cloud-like grayish-white dust settled, and what appeared to be romantic frost brought bone-chilling cold—the fierce, cruel essence of dragon blood.

Loranhir collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily as she surveyed the chaotic scene around her.

"Damn... the power of heartbreak is just too freezing."

The icy breath had drained her stamina completely. Gasping for air, she realized it was on an entirely different level of exertion compared to commanding Yanubi.

But there was still one left to deal with.

Loranhir struggled to her feet, looking at Dreka, who stood silently observing the frozen debris scattered across the ground.

"You're stronger than I imagined," Dreka said. "A Dragon warrior? Almost identical to what the old ones are meddling with..."

Dreka's voice carried a subtle temptation.

"With a powerful opponent like you, we need not be enemies. I could spare the Princess, and even share the secret of immortality with you."

"Immortality?" Loranhir frowned. "Isn't immortality just eternal death? I want no part of that."

"Loranhir, wait, please listen to me! Hear my wish!" Elaphia, who had been silent and weak, finally spoke up from behind.

"What is it?" Loranhir looked down at her.

"Please, let me be the one to kill him. I beg you, this is important to me. Extremely important." Elaphia's gaze was resolute. "I haven't lost yet. My soul hasn't been defeated."

Elaphia's expression left Loranhir unable to refuse. She could only nod, watching as Elaphia mustered all her strength to rise."Dreka, this time I will make you understand! I shall become the embodiment of your fear!" Elaphia bit the tip of her tongue, weakly rousing her last reserves of strength, pushing her flesh and blood to their absolute limit.

With a deafening "boom," heavy and urgent bell tolls reverberated through the night sky.

Loranhir turned her head. At this moment, Patunasankus' sharp claws were tightly gripping the roof tiles of the tower. The tiles shattered under its force, falling like raindrops in all directions amidst piercing roars.

Its golden eyes contracted slightly, resembling cat-like pupils, staring directly in this direction. Loranhir couldn't help feeling this gaze was urging her to hurry up.

Patunasankus suddenly spread her wings, beating against the air as it soared upward. The resulting airflow nearly formed a small whirlwind.

The evil dragon circled through the sky, her body cutting a black silhouette against the night before eventually disappearing beyond the distant horizon.

'What the hell? Wasn't this creature supposed to be here to recapture the Princess?' Loranhir wondered, instinctively resting her hand on the hilt of the holy sword.

"Ah... so hot," she cried out in pain.

Loranhir noticed that at this very moment, the holy sword hanging at her waist...

Was glowing with heat.