"You treacherous spawn of serpentine dragons!"
Daloré roared, his fury burning like wildfire. His health was down to less than 60 million, and after channeling the Forbidden Curse into the scroll, his mana pool was empty.
Now, of all times, this wretched mockery of dragonkind dared to challenge him to a duel?
"You loathe my kin, yet you invoked the names of my ancestors to power your curse. Who's the real hypocrite here? If we're talking disgrace, no race compares to dragons."
Crimson Lizard King sneered, her voice sharp as ice.
"Nice one! Great comeback."
Orson gave a thumbs-up from the sidelines, grinning.
This version of Crimson Lizard King had gotten sharp—fast. Her verbal skills were just as sharp as her blade. A true mouthpiece!
With a guttural growl, she raised her bone sword and brought it crashing down.
Daloré gritted his teeth and tried to block, his knees slamming into the stone under the weight of Gravity Law. Against the Death God Dragon King's raw might, even a dragon lord struggled to stay upright.
She slashed again, and again. Death energy coiled around her blade with every blow.
Daloré's Elemental Battleaxe shattered. His face was a blood-soaked mess.
"Submit to the glory of my master!"
Her eyes glowed crimson as she slashed downward once more, severing both of Daloré's arms clean at the shoulders.
Cassandra trembled as she whispered, horror in her voice.
Orson stepped on the Forbidden Curse scroll, looking down at her with a cold smile.
"Losing to me isn't shameful. This was always fated."
Cassandra's heart chilled. Her violet pupils narrowed, glaring daggers at him.
Orson caught the glint in her eye—this woman still hadn't given up.
But he wasn't worried. The thoughts of a cornered loser didn't matter.
He turned his attention back to Daloré.
"Purple-Gold Dragon King… surely you've realized someone out there wants you dead. So let me offer you another path. A better one."
"I refuse to negotiate."
Daloré spat blood and growled, still defiant.
Orson smiled slightly.
Soros was a bloodthirsty brute. Velorith had the instincts of a war genius, but her brain was full of lust and violence. Tulikiki? Shrewd but spineless.
Only Daloré had the mind of a true king. His intelligence and strength far surpassed most top-tier NPCs.
Too bad he was a discarded pawn now.
"I'm not here to negotiate," Orson said coolly.
"I'm here to force you. Weaklings don't get to bargain."
Daloré froze. Then, he laughed bitterly.
The Purple-Gold Dragon King—sovereign of the skies for a thousand years—was now reduced to a powerless prisoner, awaiting the whims of mere adventurers.
But it was the truth.
"Pick one of my teammates as your new master. Do that, and you'll survive the Emperor's betrayal. Your family will remain safe."
"A dragon king should never bow to a pack of weak mortals!"
"Give them time, and they'll stand at my side as equals. You call them weak—does that make me just slightly stronger than weak?"
Daloré couldn't respond.
This man had bent the Death God Dragon King to his will, terrified an empire, and humiliated the dragon lords. And yet… he too was an adventurer—one of the "weak" mortals they all dismissed.
"My ancestor is our sacred totem. No one is worthy to tame him. Not even the Emperor!"
Cassandra shouted defiantly.
He had hoped to bypass the usual trial chains and directly help his team tame Daloré.
After all, players could infinitely resurrect and had power growth that exceeded any NPC. A living dragon king bonded with a player would be near unstoppable.
But it was clear: dragon kings couldn't be tamed through conventional means. Not in this life, nor the last.
Unless a dragon had been raised from a low tier, step by step, to kinghood, taming one was impossible.
It was a built-in limitation of Infinite Dimensions.
"Ugh… headache incoming."
"Intermediate Beast Taming failed…"
"Intermediate Beast Taming failed…"
He turned to see Madman, standing behind Daloré's mangled body, spamming taming skills over and over.
Orson almost laughed out loud.
Clearly, he wasn't the only one with the idea. The others had been eyeing his Crimson Lizard King for a long time. And now that a crippled dragon king was lying helplessly before them?
Of course they were tempted.
"Damn it, you can't even move! Just give in already!"
Madman yelled, hurling taming attempts like candy.
Daloré didn't even blink—he was a battered ragdoll.
"Don't bother. It's a million-to-one chance. By the time you succeed, he'll have regenerated and killed you a hundred million times."
Bradley slapped Madman's shoulder.
"Intermediate skill for a dragon king? Please."
Blank scoffed, strolling up like she didn't care.
But the mischievous glint in her eyes gave her away.
"Advanced Beast Taming failed…"
"Advanced Beast Taming failed…"
Her cheeks flushed red.
"Ugh, I don't even like dragons. Never mind. Not my thing."
"So you prefer big snakes or big… rods?"
Stewart tilted his head, as innocent as a college freshman asking a biology question.
Did this kid just crack a sex joke at an SS-class Phantomblade Assassin?
Madman and Bradley burst into uncontrollable laughter, rolling on the ground.
Even the always-serious Drunken Dream turned bright red.
"Wha? I was just asking…"
Stewart blinked, confused.
"Ten o'clock. Villa rooftop. Come fight me. If you don't show, I'll find you myself."
Blank, blushing furiously, snapped before turning away.
Cassandra's face twisted.
From the depths of her soul, a sultry, seductive voice whispered:
"My princess… in the face of these evil adventurers, you stand at the edge of death. Feel me. Reach for me."
"With my blood, honor the gods. With my soul, forge an immortal empire. Kiss me. Embrace me…"
The hypnotic words coiled around her mind like a siren's song, dragging her toward the sea of damnation.
"You are me… and I am the origin of the Blood Demon!"
Her pale-violet eyes turned pitch-black.
A devilish smile crept onto her face.
The Crown of Sin atop her head began to shimmer with eerie, spectral light.