Ex rank talent Awakening: 100\% Dodge rate-Chapter 320: NUMBER 1

Greg turned in surprise toward the source of the voice, hiseyes narrowing sharply as he scanned the sky above the courtyard.

He spotted a colossal, man-like being suspended high in the air, its massive form silhouetted against the darkening clouds, exuding an aura of ancient power that made the ground beneath seem insignificant.

The being possessed two enormous dragon wings, their leathery spans stretched wide like sails catching an invisible wind, each vein pulsing with a faint, ethereal glow.

Dragon horns protruded prominently from its head, curving backward in sharp, intimidating arcs that spoke of primal ferocity and untold ages of dominance.

The being wore a stark mask over its face, with the bold numeral "1" etched prominently across its surface, a symbol of unchallenged supremacy amid the empire's restored yet battle-scarred landscape.

Its arms were crossed firmly over a broad, armored chest, and it stared down at Greg with an unnervingly calm demeanor, as if appraising a mere insect underfoot.

"Who are you?" Greg demanded, his voice steady despite the tension coiling in his muscles as he locked eyes with the intruder.

He maintained his guard at full alert, every sense heightened, uncertain whether this unknown entity would launch an attack in the next breath or simply observe from its lofty perch.

"You're in the presence of the Dragon King," the being in the sky, Number One, declared coldly, his words rumbling like distant thunder, carrying the weight of absolute authority.

"You should learn to be respectful, lower being," he added, his tone laced with disdain, as if Greg's very existence offended his regal sensibilities.

The being fixed his piercing gaze directly on Greg, the intensity building like a storm about to break.

Boom!

A crushing pressure descended upon Greg in an instant, pinning him in place with invisible force, attempting to drive him to his knees against the cracked cobblestones.

But Greg proved resilient, his jaw clenched in defiance as he refused to let his knees buckle under the overwhelming weight, his body trembling slightly from the strain.

He stood upright, every muscle straining against the assault, his golden eyes blazing with unyielding determination amid the oppressive force.

His legs sank deeper into the ground, the earth yielding like soft butter under probing fingers, cracks spiderwebbing outward from his feet as the pressure intensified.

"Hmm," Number One muttered with a hint of amusement, noticing Greg's stubborn refusal to kneel, his masked face tilting slightly in intrigue.

"How arrogant," he observed, the word carrying a mix of condescension and mild entertainment, as if Greg's resistance was a fleeting novelty.

"Let's see if you can handle more," Number One said, his expression shifting to one of genuine curiosity beneath the mask, eager to test the limits.

With a subtle flex of his will, Number One amplified the pressure against Greg, doubling its intensity in a sudden, brutal surge that pressed down like an invisible anvil.

"Ugh!" Greg was forced to groan through gritted teeth, the increased force eliciting an involuntary sound of strain as it bore down relentlessly.

He sank even deeper into the yielding ground, the soil and stone enveloping him up to his waist, leaving only his upper body free while his arms braced against the unyielding assault.

"Emperor!" Elizabeth called out urgently, her voice cutting through the tension as she gripped her slender sword tighter, poised and ready to launch an attack in his defense.

Number One cast a casual side glance at Elizabeth, and that mere flicker of attention was enough to cause her to freeze in place, her body locking up as if encased in invisible ice.

Elizabeth couldn't fathom the reason, but a primal fear gripped her soul, rooting her to the spot with an intensity that clawed at her instincts.

This primal terror she experienced was one of the signature abilities inherent to dragons, a weapon as old as time itself.

Dragon fear—an aura that instilled uncontrollable dread in lesser beings, paralyzing them with the raw essence of draconic supremacy.

"Hmm," Number One hummed thoughtfully, his gaze returning to Greg. "You still won't bow. Then I should force you myself."

Hell-bent on shattering Greg's indomitable will, Number One raised his voice with commanding intent.

"Bow," he ordered in the ancient dragon's tongue, the words infused with magical compulsion that rippled through the air like chains seeking to bind.

"Fuck off," Greg shot back defiantly, his response laced with raw contempt, unaffected by the linguistic sorcery.

Number One's command washed over him harmlessly, having no discernible effect on his unyielding stance.

"Hmm," Number One mused again, his tone shifting to one of cold calculation. "To resist my dragon tongue... I was right. You have the potential to become a dangerous being in the future."

"I might as well end your life now," he declared icily, "and stomp out this annoying bud before it fully blossoms into a threat."

Pointing a single, armored finger toward Greg, Number One began to gather energy, preparing to unleash a compressed beam of flames enveloped in the aura of an absolute concept, its tip glowing with lethal promise.

"Goodbye," Number One muttered softly, releasing the beam in a streak of concentrated destruction that hurtled forward with blinding speed.

Greg watched the beam racing toward him, its velocity so immense that dodging seemed utterly impossible in the frozen moment.

He couldn't blink, couldn't even form a coherent thought, the attack's swiftness robbed him of any chance to react, time itself seeming to slow to a crawl.

The beam closed in on Greg's face, inches from impact, only to fizzle out abruptly in a harmless spark just before touching his skin, dissipating into nothingness.

"Hmm," Number One commented, his voice tinged with mild surprise. "The universe's will is interfering? Today might just be your lucky day after all."

"It seems I'm too strong to engage you directly," he conceded, lowering his finger as the remnants of energy faded from the air.

"Consider yourself fortunate, Nemesis," Number One informed him gravely. "Your life will be spared today. But do not mistake this for permanent mercy."

"When the time is right," he added ominously, "I will come for you, and there will be no escape."

With a powerful flap of his massive dragon wings, Number One launched into the sky, his departure so explosively fast that it resembled instantaneous teleportation, leaving only a rush of wind in his wake.