The courtyard of Castle Mercurius had become a crucible. The air shimmered with heat so intense that the stone cobblestones were turning into magma, bubbling and popping like soup.
Directly in front of Blake stood Atlas Flame, the Hellfire Dragon. His body was not made of flesh and blood, but of living, sentient fire. He towered over the castle walls, a deity of combustion who had once scorched the world.
"You speak of festivals, human?" Atlas Flame roared. His voice was the sound of a forest fire consuming a city. "Then let us light the bonfire with your bones!"
Atlas Flame lunged. It wasn't a simple bite; it was an avalanche of superheated plasma. He opened his maw, and a torrent of hellfire, hot enough to vaporize steel instantly, erupted toward the lone figure standing on the edge of the crater. The sheer displacement of air from his charge shattered the remaining windows of the palace tower.
Blake didn't move his feet. He didn't blink.
His eyes, glowing with the red hue of active Observation Haki, saw the attack three seconds before it happened. He saw the trajectory of the flames, the expansion of the heat, and the exact moment Atlas's physical form would manifest within the fire.
Just as the wall of fire was about to consume him, Blake shifted.
It was a movement so minimal it barely registered as a dodge. He tilted his head to the left and slid his right foot back two inches.
The inferno roared past him, singing the tips of his hair but failing to touch his skin. The heat washed over him, but his Armament Haki coated his body in an invisible, impenetrable armor. To Blake, the Hellfire Dragon felt no warmer than a summer breeze.
"Is that it?" Blake whispered.
Atlas Flame, confused that his target hadn't been vaporized, snapped his massive jaws shut where Blake should have been.
He bit empty air.
"You're wide open," Blake said. He was now floating in the air, level with the dragon's snout.
Blake raised his left hand. The muscles in his arm coiled like steel cables. Black lightning—Conqueror's Haki—crackled violently around his fist, mixing with a dense, white aura of spiritual pressure. He channeled the essence of the Galaxy Impact, the technique of the Hero Garp, but infused it with the soul-crushing weight of a Soul Reaper Captain.
"Galaxy Impact..."
Blake punched the air. He didn't even touch the dragon's scales. The shockwave did the work.
"...INFINITY."
BOOM.
The sound was not an explosion. It was the sound of the atmosphere collapsing.
A massive sphere of kinetic force and spiritual energy slammed into Atlas Flame's face. The dragon's head, made of intangible fire, was forced into solidity by the Haki and then brutally crumpled. The shockwave traveled through his entire body, extinguishing the flames on his back and blowing a hole through the cloud layer above the city.
Atlas Flame's eyes rolled back into his head. The mighty Hellfire Dragon, the guardian of the Eternal Flame, didn't even have time to scream. The force of the punch spiked him into the ground face-first.
The earth groaned and buckled, creating a secondary crater within the first. Atlas Flame's body went limp, the fires dimming to a low, pathetic smolder.
Knocked out cold in a single hit.
Blake dropped down. He landed softly on the top of Atlas Flame's head. The dragon's skin was still hot enough to melt iron, but Blake's boots were reinforced with Haki. He walked casually to the center of the dragon's skull and stood there, crossing his arms.
He looked out at the remaining nineteen dragons.
The scene was frozen. The dragons, who had been roaring for blood seconds ago, were now staring in absolute, bewildered silence. They looked at their strongest brother, lying unconscious beneath the boot of a human.
"One down," Blake announced, his voice cutting through the silence. "Nineteen to go."
A ripple of genuine fear went through the pack. The smaller dragons—the Rock Dragons and the lesser Wind Dragons—took an involuntary step back. Their reptilian brains were screaming at them to fly, to run, to get away from the monster standing on the burning corpse of their leader.
But pride is a heavy chain.
Zirconis, the Jade Dragon, snarled. He was trembling, but his ego wouldn't let him flee.
"Im... Impossible!" Zirconis hissed. "It was a fluke! He caught Atlas off guard! Do not be afraid! He is just a human! A soft, squishy human!"
Zirconis spread his wings. "I will strip the flesh from your bones! I am the Jade Dragon! My magic cuts through everything!"
He opened his mouth. "Jade Dragon's Roar!"
A massive wave of green magical energy, filled with cutting intent, swept toward Blake. It was a spell designed to shred armor, clothes, and dignity.
Blake sighed. "You talk too much."
He vanished.
Using Soru, he moved faster than the sound of Zirconis's roar. He reappeared instantly in mid-air, directly above the Jade Dragon's long, exposed neck.
Blake held out his right hand. Dark energy coalesced, forming the shape of a jagged, black blade.
"Dark Cloaked Dimension Slash."
He swung his arm downward.
There was no resistance.
The black blade of magic and Haki sliced through Zirconis's scales as if they were wet paper. The cut went deep, severing the spinal cord, the windpipe, and the magical arteries.
SHIIIING.
A fountain of green blood erupted into the sky.
Zirconis's roar died in his throat, replaced by a wet gurgle. His head, still wearing an expression of arrogant shock, slowly slid off his neck.
The massive body of the Jade Dragon collapsed, crashing into the castle walls, twitching once before going still.
Dragon Death Count: 1.
The other dragons screamed—not in anger, but in horror.
"He killed Zirconis!"
"With one swing!"
"Swarm him! Don't let him move!"
The herd mentality kicked in. Ten dragons roared in unison and charged. They abandoned the concept of honor or duels. This was a desperate attempt to crush a threat to their existence.
A Rock Dragon with skin like diamonds charged from the left.
A Storm Dragon cloaked in lightning dived from the sky.
A Scissor Runner Dragon (fast and sharp) flanked from the right.
Seven others fired breath attacks from a distance, creating a chaotic net of destruction.
Blake stood on Atlas Flame's head, watching the apocalypse descend on him.
He smiled. A wide, feral grin.
"That's better," he said. "Show me the despair of the past."
The Rock Dragon reached him first, opening its mouth to bite Blake in half.
Blake punched the air in its direction.
"Galaxy impact."
CRACK.
The dragon didn't just break; it disintegrated. Its diamond-hard scales shattered into millions of shards. Its bones turned to dust. The vibration frequency matched the dragon's internal structure and tore it apart at a molecular level.
The dragon exploded backward, reduced to a pile of gravel and gore.
Dragon Death Count: 2.
Without pausing, Blake spun around. The Scissor Runner Dragon was fast, moving like a blur to slice Blake's back.
"Too slow," Blake muttered.
He extended his right hand, palm open. Darkness swirled.
"Black Vortex."
Gravity bent. The Scissor Dragon, mid-sprint, was suddenly yanked off its feet. It was pulled through the air, flailing helplessly, straight into Blake's grasp.
Blake caught the dragon by its throat. The size difference was comical—a human hand holding a massive dragon's neck—but the grip was absolute. The darkness nullified the dragon's magic instantly.
"Let... go..." the dragon choked.
"Okay," Blake said.
He infused his hand with Ryuo (Advanced Armament Haki) causing it to destroy the target from the inside out. He squeezed.
CRUNCH.
The dragon's neck imploded. Blake threw the limp carcass aside like a discarded toy. It crashed into a tower, bringing the structure down on top of it.
Dragon Death Count: 3.
The Storm Dragon overhead unleashed a bolt of lightning the size of a skyscraper.
"Die, monster!" the dragon screamed.
Blake looked up. The lightning struck him.
The dragons cheered. "He's hit!"
But as the smoke cleared, Blake was standing there, brushing soot off his shoulder. His aura was flaring, eating the lightning.
"Lightning?" Blake laughed. "I taught a Dragon Slayer who eats lightning for breakfast. You're just a sparkler."
Blake crouched.
Geppo.
BOOM.
He launched himself into the sky, breaking the sound barrier. He appeared above the Storm Dragon.
The dragon tried to fly away, banking hard to the left.
"Where are you going?" Blake asked, running alongside the dragon in mid-air.
He grabbed the dragon's tail with both hands.
"Giant Swing."
Using sheer physical strength that rivaled the giants of Elbaf, Blake spun the dragon around in the air. Faster and faster. The dragon screamed as the G-force threatened to tear its wings off.
Then, Blake let go.
He threw the dragon down toward the ground. But he didn't just watch it fall.
He activated his Quake power on his foot and stomped the air above the falling dragon.
"Kabutowari (Helmet Splitter)."
A shockwave hammer slammed the dragon down. The beast hit the ground with such force that a mushroom cloud of dust rose up. The impact liquefied its internal organs. It lay in a crater, twitching, blood pooling from its mouth.
Dragon Death Count: 4.
Blake landed back on the ground, amidst the dust and the blood.
Four dragons dead. One knocked out.
Fifteen remained. But the ten that had charged were now scattering, breaking formation.
A Mud Dragon tried to sink into the earth to escape.
Blake stomped his foot. The ground rippled like ocean waves, forcing the dragon back to the surface, vomiting mud.
"No hiding," Blake commanded.
A Two-Headed Dragon tried to flank him. Blake simply glared at it with a pulse of Killing Intent so potent the dragon froze, its two heads arguing over which way to run.
Blake stood in the center of the carnage. His clothes were unruffled. He hadn't broken a sweat.
The "Festival" was becoming a slaughterhouse.
He looked at the remaining dragons, his eyes burning with the thrill of battle.
"Come on," Blake beckoned with two fingers. "I'm just warming up. Who wants to be number five?"
The dragons hesitated. For the first time, the mighty rulers of the skies, the destroyers of civilizations, looked at a human and saw something they couldn't comprehend.
They didn't see a mage.
They saw the End.
One of the bolder dragons, a Steel Dragon, roared, trying to rally the others. "He is tiring! He must be! Magic power is finite! Attack him all at once!"
Blake chuckled, a low, menacing rumble that vibrated in the dragons' chests.
"Tiring?"
He flared his Reiatsu. The spiritual pressure exploded outward, darker and heavier than before. It felt endless. It felt like the ocean depth.
"I haven't even drawn my sword yet."
He reached his hand out, and the black energy solidified into a physical katana—the true form of Tensa Zangetsu.
"Now," Blake whispered, vanishing from their sight again. "Let's pick up the pace."
The massacre continued.
----
Kill Count: 1.
The smell of dragon blood—metallic and pungent—filled the air immediately.
The remaining eighteen dragons froze. The "weaker" ones stopped stepping back. They realized retreating wasn't an option. If they turned their backs, they would die.
"KILL HIM!" a massive, armored dragon roared. "SWARM HIM! HE CANNOT KILL US ALL AT ONCE!"
It was a desperation tactic. The logic of the pack. Overwhelm the predator with numbers.
Ten dragons moved simultaneously.
The ground shook as they charged. Wings blocked out the sun. Jaws snapped. Breath attacks charged.
Blake stood on Atlas Flame's head, watching the avalanche of scales and fangs rushing toward him.
A twisted smile touched his lips.
"Now that's more like it."
He bent his knees. The Haki on his legs turned blacker, denser.
He jumped.
He didn't just jump; he launched himself like a railgun projectile into the center of the swarm.
The first to meet him was a sleek, silver-scaled dragon, a creature of wind and speed. It was faster than the others, diving from the sky with talons extended, aiming to spear Blake in mid-air.
"I am the gale!" the Wind Dragon shrieked. "You cannot catch—"
Blake grabbed the dragon by its bottom jaw with his left hand.
Mid-air.
He stopped the dragon's supersonic dive instantly, the inertia causing the beast's spine to crack audibly.
"You're just a breeze," Blake grunted.
He spun his body, using the dragon's own momentum. He swung the massive beast like a flail.
He slammed the Wind Dragon into the side of a charging Earth Dragon.
CRUNCH.
Bones shattered. The Wind Dragon went limp, its neck broken by the force of the impact and the grip of Blake's hand.
Kill Count: 2.
Blake kicked off the corpse of the Wind Dragon, propelling himself higher.
Below him, the Earth Dragon—a creature made of granite scales and bedrock—shook off the impact of its friend's body. It opened its mouth, revealing rows of diamond teeth.
"I AM IMPERVIOUS!" the Earth Dragon bellowed. "My scales are harder than diamond! Your blade cannot cut me!"
Blake looked down. He sheathed his energy sword. He clenched his right fist.
He coated his arm in Ryou—Advanced Armament Haki. The type that flows inside the target, destroying it from within.
He fell toward the Earth Dragon, entering a dive.
"Harder than diamond?" Blake asked. "Let's test that."
He punched the dragon directly on the nose.
There was a pause. A moment where time seemed to stop.
The dragon's scales didn't crack on the outside.
But the dragon's eyes bloodshot instantly.
"Internal Destruction."
BOOM.
The force of the Haki bypassed the external armor entirely. It traveled through the scales, through the muscle, and detonated inside the dragon's skull.
The back of the Earth Dragon's head exploded outward in a shower of brain matter and rock shards. The "impervious" beast crumpled instantly, dead before it hit the floor.
Kill Count: 3.
Blake landed on the corpse of the Earth Dragon. He was immediately engulfed in a cloud of purple gas.
A slender, sickly-looking dragon with rotting scales had flanked him. The Poison Dragon.
"Breathe deep, human!" the Poison Dragon hissed. "My toxin melts lungs in seconds! There is no defense against the air you breathe!"
The purple cloud was thick, acidic. It dissolved the stones around Blake's feet.
Blake stood in the center of it. He didn't cough. He didn't choke.
He simply flared his Reiatsu.
The spiritual pressure exploded outward from his body like a physical dome. It pushed the gas away, creating a vacuum of pure air around him.
"Cheap tricks," Blake muttered.
Blake swung the blade. It was a simple, horizontal slash. No fancy name. No shouting. Just perfect technique backed by god-tier strength.
SHING.
A line of black energy bisected the air. Poison Dragon blinked. "I... I feel nothing. You missed, stupid monke—"
A thin red line appeared on Dragon's neck. The line widened. Blood, hot and pressurized, erupted like a geyser.
Dragon's eyes bulged in confusion. He tried to speak, but only a gurgle of blood escaped. Slowly, agonizingly, the massive head of the Poison Dragon slid off his neck. It fell, spinning once in the air, before crashing into the courtyard with a wet, heavy thud. The massive body stood for a second longer, muscles twitching, before collapsing next to the head.
Kill Count: 4.
Four dragons dead in less than two minutes.
One unconscious.
Fifteen remaining.
Blake stood amidst the carnage. He was drenched in dragon blood—green, red, purple. But none of it was his. He wasn't breathing hard. He looked like a demon god of war, standing atop a mountain of corpses.
The remaining dragons had stopped their charge. They formed a loose circle around him, but the circle was wide. Fear was now the dominant emotion in the courtyard.
A massive dragon with jagged teeth, perhaps the physical strongest of the remaining group, stepped forward cautiously. It growled, but the sound lacked the earlier arrogance.
"Who... who are you?" the dragon asked. "Humans... humans were weak. Humans were food. You... what are you?"
Blake flicked the blood off his energy blade, the black substance sizzling as it hit the ground.
He looked the dragon in the eye. His Conqueror's Haki thrummed, distorting the visual spectrum around him.
"I told you," Blake said, his voice low, dangerous, and utterly devoid of mercy. "I'm the one who ends the festival."
He raised his sword, pointing it at the cluster of trembling beasts.
"Break time is over. Who's next?"
The dragons roared—not in triumph, but in defensive terror—and the battle resumed. But the dynamic had shifted forever. The hunters had become the hunted. And Blake Corvus was just getting started.