Unlike Jericho, who remained near the forest's edge, Drako had ventured far deeper, nearing the very heart of the forest. And from the moment he entered this region, something felt wrong.
There were no creatures.
No hostile beasts.
No passive wildlife.
No insects. Not even birds.
The forest was unnaturally still.
That alone unsettled him.
As he continued forward, the trees gradually thinned until he stepped into a vast clearing—acres upon acres of ruined land. Vegetation lay reduced to ash, the ground cracked and scorched as though something catastrophic had passed through.
Yet there was no scent of smoke.
And the ash… it didn't look like the aftermath of ordinary fire.
"…Now this is very strange indeed," Drako muttered, his eyes narrowing. "How is all of this even possible?"
Before he could examine the area further, a violent explosion thundered through the forest, echoing from far off near the edge of the woods.
Drako stiffened.
His head snapped toward the source of the sound, eyes locking onto a rising plume of smoke.
"Well, well…"
In an instant, massive black wings—shaped like those of a dragon—manifested from his back. With a powerful beat, Drako lifted into the air, soaring toward the disturbance.
Thanks to his wings, he closed the distance quickly. As he descended, he was met by a massive cloud of smoke and roaring flames. The heat rolling off the area was intense—far hotter than ordinary fire.
But it didn't bother him.
As a Drakziel, a race born with diluted dragon blood, Drako already possessed resistance to extreme heat and access to minor soul energy. And since forming a contract with Jace, every dormant gift within him had been fully unlocked—then amplified many times over.
He was no longer an average Drakziel.
One such ability he activated now was Drogo Sight—a heightened form of vision capable of piercing smoke, darkness, and distortion.
Through the thick haze, he saw them.
One figure was on the ground, gripping a sword that looked as though it was melting, its metal warped and glowing.
Another stood beside them, helping them back to their feet.
"…A duel?" Drako muttered, confusion creeping into his voice. "Humans did this?"
His gaze sharpened—and then he froze.
"…The princess of Righteous?"
His surprise deepened as he noticed another presence beside her.
"…And who is that?"
A chill ran through him.
"I've got a really bad feeling about this guy…"
As the smoke finally began to clear, the scene became fully visible. Erica started making her way toward a group ahead, Jericho walking calmly beside her.
Following their line of movement, Drako shifted his gaze—and spotted several more figures gathered in the distance.
"…Those are the Holy Knights of the Kingdom of Righteous."
His eyes narrowed in interest.
"What are they doing all the way out here?"
Rather than reveal himself, Drako folded his wings and descended silently, choosing instead to trail them from afar.
If something this strange was happening in the Forest of Dawn…
He intended to hear every word.
After observing them for a while, Drako finally heard something that sent a violent shock through his entire body.
At first, he thought he had misheard.
Mankind… using soul energy?
His eyes widened as fragments of conversation pieced themselves together. The damage scattered across the forest—the scorched ground, the warped terrain—it wasn't caused by some ancient beast or forgotten calamity.
It was caused by her.
The princess of Righteous.
And that alone was already hard enough to accept.
But then came the truth that nearly shattered his composure.
"…Wait—"
His breath caught.
"The brother of Lord Jace… is alive?"
Not only alive—but capable of manipulating soul energy as well.
Drako's thoughts spiraled.
"No… that's impossible. He died. I was told he died."
The sheer volume of revelations crashing into him all at once was too much. His focus slipped—just for a fraction of a second.
And that was all it took.
Deep within the camp, Jericho felt it.
A disturbance.
A presence that didn't belong.
His expression hardened instantly.
Without warning, Jericho raised his hand, soul energy surging through his body with sharp precision.
"Soul Casting… Silver Barrage."
Dozens of small, round silver projectiles burst forth from his palm in a blinding flash, ripping through the air at terrifying speed.
Drako barely had time to register the attack before it struck him head-on.
"What—?!"
The impact tore him out of the sky, his body hurled downward like a meteor. He slammed into the ground with a deafening thud, the force of the collision carving a crater into the forest floor.
Back at the camp, the shockwave rolled through the area.
"Whoa—what was that sound?!" Erica exclaimed, turning sharply.
Jericho was already moving.
"We were being spied on," he said calmly—but there was steel beneath his voice. "And whoever it is… they're strong. Round up the knights and prepare, just in case."
He paused, eyes locked in the direction of the impact.
"I'm going to go say hi."
Before anyone could stop him, Jericho burst forward, disappearing in a flash of motion toward where Drako had fallen.
"Jericho—wait! It's too dangerous to go alone! Don't be reckless!" William shouted.
Too late.
"Damn it…" William muttered, clenching his fist. "He never listens when he thinks someone's in danger."
"I'll follow him," Erica said immediately, already moving. "You and Alice prepare the knights."
William and Alice exchanged a quick glance, then nodded.
As they split off to carry out their tasks, Erica took off after Jericho—her expression tense, her instincts screaming that whatever had just entered the Forest of Dawn was no ordinary enemy.
And somewhere within the newly formed crater, Drako slowly began to stir—his mind racing with a single, terrifying realization.
Lord Jace… you weren't wrong.
Something has changed.
"Darn it… what was that…" Drako groaned, pain lacing every word as he struggled to breathe. "It hurts so much… even my dragon scales weren't enough to stop that."
He coughed, forcing himself to roll onto his side.
"But… at least I'm alive because of them…"
Slowly, he pushed himself up, his body trembling as cracked scales along his arms began to knit back together.
"It was so fast… I didn't even see it until it hit me." His eyes narrowed. "Was that him…? The brother of Lord Jace…"
The moment he fully stood—
Jericho was already there.
Standing directly in front of him.
Drako's pupils shrank.
"Who are you," Jericho asked coldly, "and why were you spying on us?"
There was no emotion in his voice. No anger. No hostility.
Yet the air itself felt heavy.
Jericho's soul energy leaked outward like an invisible tide, crushing down on Drako's senses. The ground beneath his feet creaked faintly, as if protesting the pressure.
Drako froze.
"{W-what is this…?!"} Sweat poured down his face. "{This pressure… h-how can a human possess this much soul energy?!}"
His breathing became uneven.
"{It's on the same level as Lord Jace… maybe even higher. But Lord Jace is a demigod—this makes sense for him. But this…}"
His lips slowly curled upward.
"{Just how is this possible… from a mere human?}"
Despite his shaking body, a grin spread across his face.
"Oh no…" he whispered, eyes gleaming. "I think I'm getting excited."
Jericho's eyes sharpened.
"I asked you a question."
He took a closer look at Drako, his gaze lingering on the faintly visible scales, the aura, the residue of draconic soul energy.
"…I see," Jericho said calmly. "You're a Drakziel."
At that moment, his soul energy pulled inward—controlled, refined, but no less dangerous.
"Yes," Drako replied, bowing slightly. "I am a Drakziel. My name is Drako… though many know me as the Grim-Ripper."
He straightened, eyes locking onto Jericho.
"I suppose you caught me." His smile widened. "Jericho… or should I say—the First Prince and rightful heir of the Dynasty of Menssai."
Jericho's expression darkened.
"And," Drako continued smoothly, "elder brother of my lord and master… at least for now."
That did it.
Jericho's eyes shifted, surprise flickering through his calm mask.
"…I see," he said after a moment. "You must be one of the generals serving my brother."
He sighed, running his fingers through his jet-black hair.
"And it seems you've already achieved your objective as well—since you know who I am."
"Oh?" Drako tilted his head. "You don't seem to care that I was spying. You're a strange one, former prince."
He chuckled softly.
"Finding out your identity was merely a pleasant bonus. I was here for another reason entirely." He turned slightly, as if preparing to leave. "And since I've learned what I needed, it would be wise for me to—"
He stopped.
His breathing grew heavier.
"{No…}" his thoughts screamed. "{Every cell in my body is begging me to run…}"
His hands trembled violently.
"But… a chance to fight someone like you…" He laughed, manic excitement spilling into his voice. "I can't let that go."
His eyes burned with obsession.
"My body won't stop trembling. I have to fight you."
"You're out of your mind," Jericho muttered, rubbing his temple.
"Then let me make you an offer," Drako said suddenly, regaining a semblance of composure. "If you agree to fight me, I'll give you one piece of information."
Jericho paused.
"Anything you want to know."
Jericho's eyes narrowed slightly.
{"This guy is clearly unstable, he thought. But if I refuse… he might target the others."}
He exhaled quietly.
{"Killing him would raise too many questions. And I already lost the chance to hide soul energy from Jace…"}
A warm, calm smile appeared on Jericho's face.
"You really are troublesome," he said.
Drako grinned. "So?"
"…Fine," Jericho replied. "I accept. But I'll add a condition."
Drako nodded eagerly.
"And if you break your word," Jericho continued, his voice dropping to something far more dangerous, "I will hunt you down—wherever you are—and destroy you."
A chill ran down Drako's spine.
He shuddered.
"…Perfect."
Just then, a presence landed beside Jericho.
Erica.
Her eyes widened the moment she saw Drako.
"It's you…" she said sharply. "One of the Grand Four Generals—Drako, the Grim-Ripper. What are you doing here?"
"Oh, Princess," Drako waved casually. "Always a pleasure. I'd love to catch up, but as you can see—I and the prince here are about to play."
Erica stepped closer to Jericho.
"He knows who you are?" she whispered.
"Yes," Jericho replied calmly. "We've lost the element of surprise."
"We could kill him," Erica muttered.
"I considered that," Jericho said quietly. "But using him is better. He doesn't feel loyal—only bored."
Erica studied Drako… then smiled.
"…You have a plan."
"Trust me."
She nodded, stepping back. "Be careful. He's not an average Drakziel."
Jericho smiled. "I know."
"I see you're done flirting," Drako yawned. "Shall we begin?"
"It's about time!" he roared, lunging forward.
To Jericho, Drako's punch was slow.
He stepped aside effortlessly.
Drako smashed into a tree behind him, uprooting it entirely.
Snarling, Drako charged again—fists flying in a relentless storm.
Jericho dodged each blow with ease.
Then, as one punch came toward his face—
Jericho redirected the arm.
And struck.
The slap echoed like thunder.
Drako crashed into the ground, the earth denting beneath him.
Jericho stared at his own hand.
"…I really thought I held back," he murmured.
"I need to be careful… I still haven't fully adjusted to my strength."
"Ah—amazing…" Drako coughed, spitting blood onto the shattered earth.
"Simply… incredible."
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and laughed weakly.
"Is he really just a human…?"
His eyes trembled with disbelief—and delight.
"I can't land a single hit on him. All my basic techniques… techniques that would tear through any well-trained knight…" His smile widened. "Useless."
He straightened slowly, cracks spidering through the ground beneath his feet.
"I knew this would be a challenge," he continued, voice trembling with excitement. "But even then… I still needed a little taste."
He laughed—raw, unhinged.
"It's been so long since I felt this way…"
His soul energy surged.
"Well then…" his grin sharpened. "I guess it's time I leveled up a little."
The air changed.
Smoke erupted around Drako's body, thick and heavy, swallowing him whole. His silhouette twisted violently within it—bones shifting, muscles swelling. His frame grew larger, broader, more monstrous.
Scales burst through his skin like obsidian armor, crawling across his arms, neck, and face. His fingers elongated, nails turning into razor-sharp claws. A faint draconic glow burned beneath his skin, and his pupils slit vertically like a predator's.
It wasn't a full transformation.
But it was close enough.
When the smoke cleared, Drako stood taller—heavier—more inhuman.
A Half-Drakziel Release.
Jericho's eyes narrowed—not in fear, but recognition.
"…Now I see it," he muttered.
For the first time, he acknowledged Drako as a genuine threat.
Drako exhaled, smoke leaking from his mouth as he rolled his neck.
"This form…" he said calmly. "Costs me stamina. So I don't use it often."
His grin returned—wider than before.
"But against you?"
Jericho suddenly turned his head.
"Erica!" he shouted sharply. "This is going to get serious. Get out of here—or find proper cover!"
She didn't hesitate.
She met his gaze, nodded firmly, and vanished into the forest.
Drako cracked his knuckles, scales grinding together.
"Get ready, former prince," he said, his voice deeper now—layered, almost draconic.
"I'm going all out."
Jericho exhaled slowly.
His soul energy shifted—not leaking, not flaring—but condensing.
"…Good," Jericho replied quietly.
"I was starting to worry this wouldn't be worth it."
The ground beneath his feet sank slightly as he took a stance—calm, balanced, terrifyingly composed.
Two monsters.
One born of chaos.
One reborn by the gods.
And the forest itself seemed to hold its breath.
Drako exploded forward.
The ground shattered beneath his feet as his draconic muscles launched him like a living missile. Trees snapped apart from the shockwave alone, and the air screamed as his clawed fist tore toward Jericho's chest.
Jericho didn't move.
At least—not visibly.
The moment the punch entered his range, Jericho shifted his weight by a hair's breadth.
Drako's fist missed.
Not because Jericho dodged fast—
—but because he was already standing where Drako was about to overshoot.
Before Drako could even register it, Jericho placed two fingers against his wrist.
"—Soul Casting," Jericho said calmly.
"Flow Lock."
The soul energy didn't explode.
It sank.
Drako felt it instantly.
"—What!?" he gasped.
His arm went numb—not frozen, not broken—but completely disconnected from his intent. His clawed fingers refused to close, his muscles failing to respond no matter how hard he tried.
Jericho stepped in.
A controlled palm strike landed squarely against Drako's chest.
Not hard.
Not fast.
Yet the impact folded Drako's body inward like wet parchment.
"Gah—!!"
He was launched backward, skidding across the ground, plowing through dirt and stone before coming to a violent halt against a cluster of trees.
Jericho lowered his hand, watching carefully.
"…Good," he murmured.
"I didn't overdo it this time."
Drako coughed violently, smoke and blood spilling from his mouth as his half-transformed body trembled.
"Y-you…" he wheezed, laughing weakly even as pain wracked him.
"That wasn't brute force…"
He forced himself upright, legs shaking.
"You interrupted my soul flow."
Jericho nodded once.
"Your power is impressive," he said evenly. "But it's wild. Loud. Wasteful."
Drako's grin returned—wide and manic.
"Hah… hahahaha—!"
"So even holding back, you can do that?"
He spread his arms despite the pain, scales grinding.
"Incredible… simply incredible…"
His eyes burned with fanatic excitement.
"I've fought knights. Saints. Monsters."
He took a sharp breath.
"But you're different."
Jericho's expression didn't change.
"I'm not here to kill you," he said.
"And if you force me to—this will end very quickly."
Drako's laughter slowly died down.
"…You really mean that," he muttered.
For the first time, something unfamiliar crept into his gaze.
Caution.
Jericho raised one hand, soul energy threading around his fingers like invisible silk—tight, precise, terrifyingly disciplined.
"So," Jericho continued, voice steady,
"fight me seriously—but live through it."
A grin slowly crept back onto Drako's face.
"Heh… former prince…"
He leaned forward, claws digging into the earth.
"Now that makes this perfect."
The forest groaned as both their soul energies rose again—
not exploding—
but colliding.
Without warning, Drako drew in a deep, resonant breath.
The air around him warped.
He thrust both hands forward, fingers spread wide.
"Soul Casting— Osto Vrechei."
The ground beneath him cracked as bone after bone tore free from the earth—jagged, pale spears screaming through the air. They weren't slow.
They were twice as fast as anything he had thrown before.
Jericho's eyes sharpened.
"So this is your serious side…"
He moved.
Not effortlessly this time.
Each step was precise, measured—his body weaving through the barrage as bones grazed past his shoulders, his cheek, slicing the air close enough to draw blood. One clipped his arm, tearing fabric and skin alike.
Jericho clicked his tongue.
"…Fast."
As he twisted to avoid the final spear, Drako vanished from his sight.
Too close.
Before Jericho could fully reset his stance—
BOOM.
A fist slammed into his chest.
No restraint.
No finesse.
Pure Drakziel strength—fully unleashed, reinforced by Jace's blessing.
Jericho's ribs screamed.
The impact launched him backward like a cannon shot, his body tearing through tree after tree, trunks exploding into splinters before he was hurled upward into the sky.
"JERICHO!!—NO!!"
Erica's scream echoed through the forest as she sprinted forward.
Drako didn't even glance at her.
Black wings erupted from his back, scales grinding as he beat them once—
—and vanished.
He streaked past Erica in a blur, the shockwave throwing her back as he caught up to Jericho midair.
Drako clasped both hands together above his head.
"For a human," he snarled,
"you take hits far too well."
He swung down with everything he had.
The blow landed.
CRACK—!!!
The sky itself buckled.
A violent shockwave tore outward, ripping clouds apart as if they were cloth. The sound thundered across the forest for miles.
Jericho's body folded under the strike.
Blood sprayed from his mouth as he was driven downward, his form spiraling uncontrollably through the air.
Below, the forest braced—as Jericho plummeted.