Dragon King's Harem Chapter 458. You Fight Like a Dragon
Dragon King's Harem Chapter 458. You Fight Like a Dragon
Twin blades raised, fire trailing behind me.
He blocked— But only one.
Honor slipped through and sank deep into his left side.
He screamed and kicked me away.
But I landed the hit.
A real one.
He backed off, clutching his ribs now. Blood ran freely down his clothes, staining the pristine snow around him crimson.
His breath was ragged. One eye narrowed, the other bruised from our last clash.
But he was still standing.
Still fighting.
Just like me.
And neither of us planned to stop.
He looked down at the gauntlet on his arm—cracked, sparking, smoking like burnt-out scrap. He didn’t hesitate. Cedric ripped it off with a grunt and hurled it aside. The thing clattered across the snowy floor then skidded to a stop near the edge.
His glare locked onto me. No words. No taunts. Just fury and resolve. That blazing knight fire in his eyes. It burned now—not with righteous pride, but with the cold, unrelenting weight of someone who had nothing else left.
His sword lifted.
And I matched him.
My twin blades pulsed in my hands. One flickered gold, the other red, both soaked in blood and battle heat. My wings adjusted—one beat backward, throwing frost-dust off my feathers in a shimmering arc.
Then he roared.
We collided again.
No tricks this time. No spells. Just raw will.
Steel rang like church bells being beaten with warhammers. My blades struck with the weight of dragons; his sword met them with the defiance of a crumbling kingdom.
Clash. Step. Parry. Slam.
He ducked under my swing, jabbed the pommel of his blade into my ribs.
Luckily, I dodged it.
I grunted and spun, using the momentum to bring both swords down like twin executioners. He rolled away—barely. The ground where he stood split open, steam curling up from the fire-etched gash I left behind.
He was fast.
But I was faster.
I chased him with relentless strikes, forcing him on the defensive. Still, he wasn’t weak. His counters were sharp—too sharp for a man bleeding and half-blind. His sword moved like it was part of him, each swing trained through years of brutal experience.
And dammit… I respected it.
If Cedric had been born in my tribe—I would’ve made him commander by now. Hell, I might’ve called him brother in battle.
But fate carved a different path.
He’d chosen revenge. Pride twisted into obsession. He called it justice. But justice didn’t blind a person. Revenge did. And now, here we were—two warriors in a shattered arena, trying to write our truths in blood and flame.
He lunged.
I stepped sideways, let his blade scrape my shoulder—not deep, just enough to sting—then slammed my fist into his jaw. He stumbled back, dazed, but swung upward in a wild arc that nearly split my chin open.
I ducked, rolled, then rose behind him.
[Mana Weapon – Nightmare]
The dark blade reformed in my grip like it was hungry for more. I slashed horizontally—he twisted just in time. My blade caught his side again, carving another shallow cut through his scorched clothes. Blood hit the floor. Steam followed.
Still, he didn’t fall.
“I’ll admit,” I muttered between breaths, “you’re tougher than most nobles I’ve gutted.”
He didn’t answer. Just charged again.
His sword came at me like a falling star. I raised both blades, caught it in a scissored block. The impact sent tremors through my arms. My feet dug deep into the frost-covered tiles, cracking them beneath my boots.
“You should’ve been one of us,” I said low. “You fight like a dragon. Not like a snow elven.”
He grit his teeth. “I fight for my people.”
“You used them,” I snapped. “Don’t lie to yourself at the end.”
He yelled and shoved forward. Our blades broke apart in a blinding flash of sparks.
My back hit a pillar. He didn’t stop.
He slammed his shoulder into my chest. Pain exploded through my ribs, and I tasted blood in the back of my throat.
[You got hit and lost 1,100 HP]
But pain just made me sharper.
I brought my knee up hard—right into his stomach. He coughed, stumbled, and I pushed off the pillar and drove him back with three rapid strikes.
Right. Left. Left again.
My blade found his thigh—he screamed. Another clipped his shoulder—his grip faltered. But he still blocked the third. Still stood. Still fought.
This man was a wall. Cracked. Bleeding. Crumbling—but not down.
And a part of me hated that it had to end like this.
A deep breath filled my chest, heavy with scorched air and the scent of burnt frost. The smell of mana residue coated everything now—like ozone and sulfur had a baby and dipped it in snow.
He spat blood to the side and took stance again.
“Why… won’t you fall?” he growled, voice hoarse.
“Because I have to do what I must do,” I said.
And this time, I didn’t roar or charge.
I walked.
One step. Then another.
My blades glowed brighter. The ground beneath me steamed from the heat of my mana.
He rushed forward again, reckless now.
Too reckless.
He raised his sword overhead.
I let him.
Then I vanished.
‘Shadow Walk.’
Behind him.
[Mana Weapon – Infernal Fang]
A short dagger, curved and wicked, formed in my hand.
I jammed it into the gap between his pauldron and chestplate.
Not deep. But precise.
Right between the ribs.
He gasped, dropped his sword, and staggered forward a step. Then two. Hands twitching. One reaching for the wound like he couldn’t believe it.
I stood behind him, panting, wings twitching from effort.
“I told you,” I said quietly. “You picked the wrong path.”
He fell to his knees.
Then slumped forward, blood trailing down from the corner of his mouth, mixing with the ice.
But he didn’t die.
Not yet.
And I didn’t finish it.
Not yet.
Because despite everything, the pain, the rage, the betrayal—this man had fought with everything he had.
And I owed him a moment.
Even if it was only silence.