Barbarian's Adventure in a Fantasy World-Chapter 220: The Dragon (4)

I’m actually being pushed back in pure strength? The woman thought.

Being the elder dragon, she felt a flicker of disbelief. Her body was leagues beyond any mere adult dragon who had just achieved maturity. Even attacks from the highest-level Transcendents couldn’t scratch her flesh. She had faced countless enemies wielding nothing but her pure physical strength, relying on raw power, and few, if any, had ever managed to overwhelm her by force alone.

Yet, in just a single clash, the bones in her fist had been shattered. Even her wrist, where Ketal had blocked her, felt like it was about to crack. She had to rely on magic to heal herself in an instant, but the message was clear: there was a gap in their strength, and it favored him.

This is absurd, she thought.

However, she was a dragon, a being whose true talent lay in magic, not brute force. She gave a faint, almost embarrassed shake of her wrist, then shifted her approach.

“A simple contest of strength won’t work on you, it seems. Let’s try this instead,” she said, voice smooth and almost playful.

A blazing spear of fire appeared in her hand. The flames that danced along its length were hotter, more intense, and more potent than the dragon’s breath they had faced from the crimson dragon before. It was a weapon of pure, destructive might.

Ketal’s eyes narrowed in interest. There was no incantation, no chanting, just pure, instinctive magic. It was the same trait he’d seen in the previous dragon. The flaming spear whipped through the air in a deadly arc, aimed straight for him.

Ketal met it head-on, swinging his fist in a brutal counterpunch. The spear exploded against his fist, the searing heat racing up his arm, filling his whole body with a blistering warmth.

That was only the beginning. Spell after spell erupted from the woman—each more powerful, more refined, and more dangerous than anything the previous dragon had managed.

However, Ketal destroyed every last one. He shattered the tracks of magic that came barreling toward him. When she conjured a ballista of fire, he caught it and crushed it with his bare hands.

“You’re strong!” Ketal shouted.

“Could you not compliment me while smashing everything I throw at you?” the woman grumbled, a hint of exasperation in her voice. Everything she conjured was destroyed, not with counter-magic, but with sheer physical strength.

What kind of body is that? she wondered, amazed despite herself.

Then, with a light stamp of her foot, she sent a wave of force rippling through the floor toward Ketal. It wasn’t any ordinary shockwave. She’d turned the ground itself into a living tide of energy. However, Ketal stamped his own foot in reply, without any magic.

The result was similar: a massive wave of force swept out from beneath him, colliding with hers. The two tides crashed and canceled each other out, sending vibrations echoing through the cavern. The ground of the dragon’s lair heaved and rolled.

“Wow,” she breathed, almost laughing at the absurdity. She had lived a long, long life, but never before had she seen someone neutralize her magic with nothing but brute force.

Ketal pushed through the dissipating magic, surging right up to her in a flash. The air whirled and buckled around him from the speed and force.

As he raised his fist, she spoke up. “It would be nice if you didn’t come any closer.”

With those words, a surge of power crashed into Ketal. Her Dragon Tongue was laced with magic. It was meant to repel him, to keep him away with pure force of will.

However, Ketal tensed his body and forced himself forward. His entire frame tried to slide back, but by sheer strength, he pushed against the force, advancing step by step. He broke through the dragon’s magical words with nothing but raw might.

He threw a punch. She crossed her arms to shield herself. The blow landed with crushing impact. It was a strike so powerful that even Nano couldn’t have endured it. The woman staggered, forced backward by the blow, but managed to halt herself before she smashed into the wall.

Meanwhile, Spellweaver coughed up blood. He’d managed to shield himself and the unconscious party members with his shadow creatures, but even then, the residual force was too much for him. He was nearing his limit.

What’s going on? Spellweaver wondered in despair. He had always been counted among the strongest of the Transcendents, but now he felt as helpless as a fawn before a storm.

“You took that head-on and stayed standing! Incredible!” Ketal marveled.

“Is that a compliment?” The woman grumbled, healing her shattered arm with magic, then giving Ketal a look of genuine respect. “You’re disgustingly strong. Even among my kin, I doubt most could withstand this. No wonder that other dragon lost so badly.”

“Then perhaps you’ll let it go? Or do you intend to avenge your fellow dragon?”

Ketal had realized that the woman before him was a dragon as well—one far more powerful than the red dragon he’d just defeated. However, she shook her head.

“I don’t care for vengeance,” she admitted, “but my pride won’t let me back down, not after this.”

“Think you can keep going?” Ketal replied.

Even her magic couldn’t break through Ketal’s body. He had shrugged off her Dragon Tongue with muscle alone. By every measure, she had no clear path to victory.

Still, her expression was confident. “Believe it or not, I’m quite old. And when you reach my age, there are things the young ones just can’t do. For instance...”

She snapped her fingers. In that instant, the unconscious companions, the battered Spellweaver, and even the corpse of the crimson dragon vanished from the lair.

“What did you do?” Ketal asked her.

“I sent them outside. Things are about to get very dangerous,” she said coolly.

“That sounds promising.”

“Oh, I’ll give you a show you won’t forget,” she replied, flicking her fingers with a murmur.

“Light,” she chanted in Dragon Tongue. The unfamiliar draconic words, laden with magic, were weaving a spell of overwhelming power.

Pure, scarlet light gathered at her fingertip. For the first time, Ketal’s expression shifted. He could sense the difference—this wasn’t like her previous spells. This wasn’t just magic; it was a secret art, a true mystery of the elder dragons. This was a force that only elder dragons could command.

“I take no responsibility for your death,” she quipped, finishing the spell. “Pierce.”

The scarlet light transformed into a beam, a lance of energy large enough to fill the entire lair, annihilating everything in its path as it shot toward Ketal. For the first time since leaving the White Snowfield, Ketal felt the chill of mortal danger.

His instincts screamed: If this hits me, it’s over.

He seized his axe. The jet-black axe and the scarlet light collided. The force split the beam, protecting Ketal’s body. The divided beam cut through the lair’s walls and shot out into the open sky, vaporizing stone as it went. Ketal’s hands tightened around the axe, forearm muscles bulging with the effort.

“Hrrrragh!” With a roar, he brought the axe down with all his might.

The scarlet light was cleaved in two, its power spent. A tidal wave of force blasted upward, tearing apart the lair’s ceiling and exposing the open sky above. Outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and darkness was descending over the mountains.

At that moment, the crimson light painted the clouds red, sending distant villagers into a panic as they gaped at the unnatural spectacle, wondering if a star had fallen.

A high, keening sound rang out. The jet-black axe glowed red-hot from the heat of the attack, but was slowly cooling in Ketal’s grip. His entire body was flushed with the lingering warmth.

“Incredible...,” Ketal murmured, awe in his voice.

It was the first time since coming to the outside world that he had faced an opponent with this level of strength. Even in the heart of the White Snowfield, such power was rarely seen. If he’d been the slightest bit careless, he might have lost everything.

The woman let out a dry, incredulous laugh. “You’re still in one piece.”

Ketal bore no wounds. The heat had reddened his skin, but not to the point of burning. That, more than anything, seemed to leave the woman at a loss.

“You didn’t even use any Myst, just raw muscle...?”

She had expected him to block it, but not to emerge unscathed. Now, just like everyone who had encountered Ketal, she began to realize that he was... different.

What exactly has he accomplished? She wondered at his extraordinary physical protection—born not from magic, but from the sheer magnitude of his form, the existential power that surrounded him. He withstood my Dragon Tongue with just his physical prowess. How did he do that? Is he really a being from that place?

There was something else, too.

And what about that weapon? she wondered.

The axe in Ketal’s hand, the same one that had blocked her Dragon Tongue, remained undamaged, even after absorbing that impossible attack. It still glowed with the heat but cooled quickly, stubbornly refusing to break.

Both Ketal’s body and his weapon defied understanding. Her gaze sharpened.

There’s a weakness, after all, she observed.

The barbarian before her had no command over Myst at all. He relied purely on physical strength. Her attack just now had surely threatened even him, and he had only escaped by wielding his axe in just the right way. He wasn’t using any magical power, lashing out like a wild beast. That was all. If so, she still had a chance to defeat him.

As Ketal charged, the woman chanted anew, using Dragon Tongue. “Space, become chains.”

Ketal stopped short. It felt as if invisible shackles had seized his arms and legs, limiting how far he could move.

Ketal’s eyes widened. “Oh?”

He strained, pouring strength into his limbs, but the unseen chains held firm. No matter how he struggled, he couldn’t break free.

“You can’t escape,” the woman said calmly. “This isn’t just about force, it’s magic that interferes with the very concept of the world itself. That’s not something you can brute-force your way out of.”

Only Heroes could manifest their will on the world itself, imposing their concepts onto reality. She had taken the very concept of space and shaped it into chains, binding Ketal in place. No matter how strong he was, he couldn’t move when reality itself said no. To break free, he’d have to bend the world’s rules as she had. However, Ketal, for all his power, couldn’t do that.

Against an equal, this tactic wouldn’t matter, but for someone like Ketal, it was overwhelmingly effective.

“I acknowledge your form, but you can’t break out by just lashing out blindly.”

“This is... fascinating,” Ketal said, marveling as he twisted and turned, feeling the strange resistance. There was nothing to see or sense, but he simply couldn’t move beyond a certain point.

The woman watched him closely. His presence, the sheer force of his form, was enough to withstand her Dragon Tongue head-on. In that regard, he even surpassed her. Yet, that was all there was. Ketal possessed no further power to match his form. That was deeply odd. Normally, someone who reached this level would have gained some unique ability or authority, something to express that power.

However, in Ketal’s case, there was nothing. It was as if a god had been trapped inside a human body.

There’s a lack—an imbalance. Something’s missing, she thought.

As she pondered, Ketal himself was absorbed in awe.

This sensation..., he thought. It reminded him of his sparring match with Karin, the High Elf Queen. She, too, had been able to control space, though she’d held back. This was a step beyond that.

It might have been a crisis, but Ketal could only marvel. He had, until now, underestimated the strength of outsiders; everyone he’d met had seemed weak compared to the monsters of the White Snowfield. Even Karin, who had shown him something special, hadn’t gone all out.

However, the woman’s power was something else—a power on par with the legends of the White Snowfield, displayed here in the broader world of fantasy.

Then it’s time, Ketal thought, his spirit kindling. He gathered every last ounce of strength, ready to go all out.