The air was a turbulent, super-heated vortex of cursed energy, dragon's breath, and pulverized rock. The battle against Dravhark was less a fight and more a desperate, frantic scramble to survive the fury of a wounded demigod.

The cursed spear that had ripped into the Darkness Dragon's chest, causing the first important wound in the battle, was wrenched free. Adam, guided by Falk's frantic mental instructions, felt the familiar, jarring pull as the weapon detached from the dragon's black flesh and returned with a whistling speed to his outstretched hand. The wound, a gaping hole just above Dravhark's sternum, slowly began to close, but not before another torrent of corrupted blood erupted, showering the battlefield.

A roar of agony tore from Dravhark's massive throat, a sound that cracked the very obsidian rocks around them. But before that pain could translate into a counterattack, the Giant Killer was already there. Moving with a surprising, ground-shaking agility, the monster delivered a colossal, armored fist straight to the dragon's jaw. The impact sounded like the simultaneous crash of a mountain.

Dravhark staggered, his head snapping back, but the dragon was not a creature to be blinded by pain anymore. Even with the searing agony from the Giant Killer's blow and the sickening feeling of his own blood pooling on the ground, his millennia-old mind was already working.

…They are aiming for the Core…

The realization was immediate, sharp, and cold. Their previous actions left no room for doubt. They somehow knew about his weakness.

With a low, grinding snarl that echoed his internal frustration, Dravhark shifted. His massive body, which had been aggressive and sweeping, tightened. He accepted the inevitable. He was already wounded; he could endure more from the Giant Killer, the predictable, slow behemoth. But he could not allow that small, fragile undead to land another blow.

The dragon immediately went on the defensive, focusing every ounce of his immense concentration and power on the only one who mattered… Adam.

A third offensive was already in motion. Adam zipped across the ravaged earth, while Falk's voice was a constant stream of coordinates and warnings in his mind.

"Left! Roll left! One hundred yards, a full-body sweep incoming!"

Falk screamed, the force of the dragon's attacks almost shattering his concentration.

Adam executed the commands, the feeling of the massive tail passing close enough to crush him. He was moving, dodging the earth-shattering stomp of Dravhark's foreleg, sidestepping another whip-crack from the dragon's tail, all while positioning his spear for the next throw.

Kazue and Dora, acting as Adam's vanguard, were already struggling fiercely. Dora tried to act as a physical shield, but Dravhark was not a simple brute.

The girl yelled, her voice hoarse from effort.

"Dora! Three o'clock! Shield! Now!"

The fire dragon moved, forming a wall of corrupted fire with her own body, but Dravhark 's immense claw struck it with bone-jarring force. Dora didn't recoil, but the energy wave sent Adam tumbling. He was trying to regain his footing, adjusting his grip on the spear, his spectral wings flaring to stabilize.

He finally saw the opening—a fleeting second where Dravhark was distracted by a crushing punch from the Giant Killer. Adam began to wind up the throw.

"This is it!"

But Dravhark, enduring the Giant Killer's bone-crushing assault without flinching, twisted his enormous neck. The distraction was only momentary, a calculated sacrifice. A blast of noxious, black breath, not fire, but a blinding, suffocating cloud, was instantly expelled, forcing Adam to retreat, his lungs burning with the corrosive miasma… It was extreme heat, not fire he could absorb; it was clear that the dragon remembered the boy's ability to eat his own flame.

"Damn it!"

Adam hissed, clenching his teeth, his frustration a raw, bitter taste in his mouth.

He was blind, relying entirely on Falk and his own spectral senses, and the constant, high-speed dodging was exhausting him. Every passing second saw the window of opportunity narrow, and he didn't know how much longer the paralyzing side effects of the previous engagement would last for the others.

"You are pathetic…"

The Empress spoke, her voice using Adam's own vocal cords, but the tone was one of ice-cold, imperious fury. The sound was a jarring, dual-layered echo of both Adam's deep voice and her own high, regal sneer.

"Absolutely pathetic. I cannot even see, and you insist on flailing about like a dying fish! This is torturous!"

Adam gritted his teeth, his blind eyes focused on the dragon's shadow.

"It's not that simple."

Adam argued, his voice a low growl, an internal conversation that looked like a man arguing with the air.

"I can't see either! My best skills rely on line of sight for me to react!"

"Ridiculous!"

The Empress's voice was venomous, filled with a raw, disbelieving contempt.

"You continue to think like a pathetic human when you ceased to be one long ago. You must fight as what you are. A Lich… or at least, this bizarre Lich-hybrid abomination you have become."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Adam snapped, his confusion overriding his frustration.

"What do you mean by that!?"

There was no verbal response, only a violent surge of power as the Empress abruptly seized control of his motor functions for a bit.

"Let me show you how it's done."

Immediately, the black, spectral energy coursing through Adam's body exploded outward with a primal violence. The wave of cursed power was so intense, so raw, that Dravhark, who had been focused on intercepting the next attacks, noticed the shift instantly.

The dragon, sensing the energy surge, immediately reacted. He lunged, a colossal blur, his massive claw arcing downward for a decisive, crushing blow meant to silence the boy once and for all… But the blow never landed.

Just before the dragon's talons could impact with Adam, an equally large, spectral claw burst from Adam's body. It was a terrifying, translucent monstrosity of ectoplasm, a spectral limb that matched Dravhark's claw for size and sheer, unyielding power. The two colossal claws slammed together with a silent, concussive force that stopped the dragon in its tracks.

"Hahaha! I told you before, my Lich, this is how we fight!"

The Empress was laughing, the sound ringing from Adam's mouth, a maniacal, joyous sound that held something like malice. And from within the depths of the boy's being, amidst the roiling cloud of cursed energy, the gigantic figure of a Demon-type ghost erupted, the skill [Demon-Type Manifestation] taking effect.

It was a terrifying birth. The creature emerged in a violent surge of smoky ectoplasm, a swirling, formless storm of cursed mist that rapidly coalesced into the shape of a massive demon. Its form was gigantic, rivaling the Giant Killer and Dravhark in sheer scale—a towering silhouette of pure nightmarish power.

The Demon-Type fully emerged, its spectral throat unleashing a ferocious, guttural roar that dwarfed Dravhark's own sound. The sheer, physical pressure of its emergence was enough to push the already reeling Darkness Dragon back a perceptible, humiliating distance.

Emir's mind, piloting the Giant Killer, recoiled in a flash of shock, but that surprise instantly melted into a grim recognition. He had seen this creature before. On the sidelines, Kazue, whose gauntlets were already glowing with stored power, allowed herself a fierce, delighted smile.

"It's about damn time!"

She muttered to Dora, the relief palpable in her voice.

The exchange of blows resumed, and now Dravhark was trapped in a terrifying, asymmetrical three-against-one. The Giant Killer kept the pressure up, while the new Demon-Type proved to be an even more exasperating opponent. The dragon's cursed body allowed him to connect his physical attacks with the spectral demon, a feat normally impossible against a phantom. However, the demon was pure ectoplasm—it felt no pain, and every wound inflicted simply reformed in a surge of ghostly mist. Every successful strike from Dravhark was a futile expenditure of energy.

Adam, the source of this terrifying new power, remained silent, his consciousness a passive observer within his own body.

"Why do you insist on fighting like a common thug?"

The Empress said, devoid of her former frustration, and now with a cold, clinical interrogation.

"Furthermore, how could you forget your most lethal weapon? A power that even I am surprised you managed to acquire."

Adam finally understood. His mind, trapped in the human-centric thought process of finding the optimal moment for a precise throw, had become a liability. His skills were indeed varied and versatile, encompassing everything from stealth and espionage to necromancy and parasitic possession. He had so many tools that his own lack of experience made them ineffective, but she was right.

A surge of genuine, unadulterated shame washed over him, but a cold, renewed determination quickly replaced it.

"I owe you one."

He transmitted the thought to the Empress.

"Hmph."

The Empress simply scoffed, a sound of profound annoyance that somehow seemed genuinely surprised by the thanks. The mental equivalent of a dramatic eye-roll.

"Don't make me regret helping you. Get on with it."

This internal duality—the high-stakes, life-or-death battle coupled with the petty, passive-aggressive bickering—was a strange kind of humor that only Adam could appreciate.

Meanwhile, on the periphery of the main battle, Chloe was fighting a war of her own. She was struggling desperately to maintain her footing, the sheer, concussive force of the colossal battle washing over her in a suffocating wave. Frustration, hot and biting, burned in her chest. She felt utterly useless, a fragile, insignificant human in a battle of gods and monsters.

A sudden, powerful shockwave from the Giant Killer's last hit sent her sprawling. She tumbled backward, her body a ragdoll, until her trajectory ended abruptly, stopped by a powerful, firm grip. Chloe's head spun, but as her vision cleared, or at least cleared as much as the darkness allowed her, her eyes widened.

The person who had caught her, who was now holding her firmly and protectively, was Charles.

"Are you alright!?"

The blond asked, his voice strained and worried, though he managed to keep his composure.

"Y-yes, I am."

Chloe stammered, still winded, but the realization of the situation brought a fresh wave of shame.

"We have to help them... I can't see well yet, but it's clear they are having problems!"

Charles explained, his eyes narrowed in an effort to focus. Chloe's cheeks flushed crimson.

"I… I can see, I wasn't looking when..."

She confessed, her voice barely a whisper, an admission that she had been so paralyzed by fear and inadequacy that she had avoided looking at the battle, thus retaining her vision.

"But it doesn't matter! None of my skills are useful in a fight like this. I'm just a… a hindrance!"

Charles looked at her, his face grim, but his eyes held a surprising intensity.

"That's not true."

He said, his voice firm and unwavering.

"Every user has a way to support. Think! You helped during the fight against the Dracling Commander! You did something. You always do something, I'm sure."

Chloe hesitated, her doubt a heavy cloak around her. Charles's voice dropped, becoming a focused, urgent murmur, a tone that pierced through her self-pity.

"This is your chance. The one you wanted. To help Adam, to be useful to him, don't you want for him to see you as someone strong and necessary to be with?"

Chloe's eyes widened, the specificity of his words hitting her with the force of a physical blow. She didn't stop to question how he knew her most private desires; the emotional impact was too profound.

"It doesn't matter if you think you're useless now."

Charles continued, his eyes burning with a determined light.

"The System is a place where the incredible happens for those who challenge and overcome their limits. Now, come on. We are going to go in there and make a miracle happen."

He didn't wait for her full acceptance. Charles, with a powerful, almost desperate urgency, placed a firm hand on her waist. The moment his hand touched her, his speed skill activated, and before Chloe could utter a single syllable of protest, they shot off. They were a sudden, impossible blur, racing toward the epicenter of the monster mash, dodging the colossal limbs of the three titans as they went.

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