CHAPTER 116: BONE DRAGON 4

I retreated into the shadows, my heart a frantic, panicked drum against my ribs. The first part of my plan—a chaotic, costly, but ultimately successful gambit—was complete. The Bone Dragon’s army of skeletal minions was a pile of crushed, forgotten dust, and I had successfully baited the ancient beast into unleashing its ultimate attack. But the second, and far more dangerous, part was about to begin. The build-up was over. The real battle, the one that would decide my fate, and the fate of this entire, cursed land, was about to begin.

The necrotic energy gathered in the Bone Dragon’s maw was not like any magic I had ever witnessed. It was a swirling, chaotic vortex of sickly green and absolute black, a sphere of pure, unadulterated death that seemed to suck the very light and warmth from the air. The ground around the beast began to decay, the ancient, fossilized stones turning to a fine, gray dust. The very air grew thin, toxic, making my lungs burn with every ragged breath.

This was its ultimate attack. The one the ancient runes had warned me about. The one that would, for a single, fleeting moment, expose its heart.

I couldn’t block it. I couldn’t dodge it. I could only endure it.

My mind, a whirlwind of desperate, last-ditch calculations, raced. The traps I had laid, the collapsing ribcages of the lesser dragons, they were not just for the minions. They were for this.

As the Bone Dragon opened its massive, skeletal jaws, as the sphere of necrotic energy began to pulse with a final, terrible light, I acted.

I didn’t run. I didn’t hide. I stood my ground, my own hand raised, not in a gesture of defiance, but of command.

And I brought the mountain down.

With the last, desperate dregs of my mana, I detonated the remaining spheres of solidified darkness that I had so carefully placed throughout the chasm. The effect was cataclysmic. The massive, fossilized skeletons of the ancient, dead dragons, their structural integrity compromised, groaned in protest, and then, with a deafening, ground-shaking crash, they began to collapse, a domino effect of destruction that turned the entire valley into a chaotic, shifting deathtrap.

I had turned the graveyard itself into my shield.

The Bone Dragon’s necrotic breath, a torrent of pure, absolute death, erupted from its maw. It was not a beam, but a wave, a tidal surge of corrosive, soul-shattering energy that washed over the valley, disintegrating everything in its path.

But it never reached me.

The first of the collapsing skeletons, the massive, arching ribcage of some long-dead leviathan, slammed into the ground in front of me, a temporary, and very fragile, shield of bone. The necrotic wave struck it, and the ancient, fossilized bones, which had withstood the ravages of time for millennia, dissolved into a fine, gray dust.

But it had bought me a second.

I used that second to move, my own body a blur of motion as I scrambled up the side of another, larger skeleton, its massive, horned skull a silent, watchful sentinel. I used its very bones as handholds, my own movements a desperate, frantic dance of survival.

The necrotic wave, its power only slightly diminished, continued its relentless, destructive path. It struck the second skeleton, and then the third, each one a temporary, sacrificial shield in my desperate, suicidal gambit.

And then, I saw it.

As the last of the necrotic energy dissipated, as the Bone Dragon’s maw finally closed, its own massive, skeletal body shuddering with the strain of the powerful, and very costly, attack, its ribcage opened for a single, fleeting moment. And in its center, a brilliant, pulsating sphere of pure, green light, the crystalline nexus of its power, its heart, was exposed.

But the dragon was not helpless. The necrotic energy it had just unleashed, the very essence of its power, did not just dissipate. It coalesced, forming a dozen smaller, faster, and very deadly projectiles, each one a swirling, chaotic sphere of pure, unadulterated death. They shot toward me, their movements a silent, deadly dance of destruction.

And at the same time, the very ground around the dragon began to stir, the bone dust, the pulverized remains of a million different creatures, rising to form a new, more terrifying army of spectral guardians, their forms a shifting, writhing mass of darkness and bone.

I was out of mana. I was out of tricks. I was out of time.

"Volkin," I whispered, my own voice a low, desperate plea. "One last time."

My spectral wolf, who had been hiding in the shadows at my side, burst forward, a blur of silver and black. He did not attack the dragon. He did not attack the minions. He threw himself at the incoming necrotic projectiles, his own spectral body a desperate, suicidal shield.

He was incinerated in an instant, his own form dissolving into a shower of dissipating light, his final, silent act of loyalty a testament to the bond we had forged.

But he had bought me a path.

I ran, my own body a projectile of pure, unadulterated will. I ran along the collapsing bones of the ancient, dead gods, my own movements a desperate, frantic dance of survival. I dodged the spectral guardians, their own attacks a chaotic, uncoordinated barrage of tooth and claw. I leaped from one crumbling precipice to another, the very ground beneath my feet a shifting, unstable thing.

And then, I was there.

Standing on the very precipice of the Bone Dragon’s own skeletal form, my own shadow blade, now wreathed in the last, desperate embers of the Phoenix’s flame, held high.

The Bone Dragon, its heart still exposed, its own power still regenerating, let out a final, terrible roar, a sound of pure, unadulterated fury.

I looked down at the pulsating, green heart, at the source of all this death, all this destruction. And as I prepared to strike, as I gathered the last of my strength for a final, all-or-nothing blow, I saw it.

A new, more subtle, and far more dangerous defense.

The very air around the heart began to shimmer, to warp, a localized, high-density gravity field that was designed not to block my attack, but to crush me, to turn my own body into a broken, bloody mess before my blade could even find its mark.

I was out of options. I was out of time. And I was about to die.

But as I looked into the heart of the storm, as I faced my own, imminent demise, I did not feel fear. I felt... a strange, profound, and very dangerous, calm. The build-up was over. The final, desperate move was mine to make. And the world, whether it knew it or not, was holding its breath.

The gravity field around the Bone Dragon’s heart was not a shield; it was a grinder. The air itself became a heavy, crushing weight, and the stray bone fragments that drifted too close were pulverized into a fine, white dust. The necrotic projectiles, now depleted, were replaced by this new, silent, and far more absolute defense. My body, already battered and broken, screamed in protest as the immense pressure threatened to tear me apart.

[System: Warning. Extreme gravitational forces detected. Host’s physical integrity is at 12% and falling. Evasion is not possible. The probability of survival is... negligible.]

’Negligible is not zero,’

I thought, a wild, desperate grin spreading across my face.

My mind, a whirlwind of desperate, last-ditch calculations, raced. I couldn’t break through the gravity field. I couldn’t endure it. But maybe... maybe I could use it.

I looked down at the massive, skeletal structure I was standing on—the Bone Dragon’s own spinal column. The vertebrae were the size of boulders, their surfaces scarred and pitted by the ravages of a thousand years. And they were, I realized, the key.

I didn’t have the strength to shatter a mountain. But I didn’t need to. I just needed to find the weak point.

With a final, desperate surge of will, I channeled the last, flickering embers of the Phoenix’s power, not into a blast of flame, but into my blade. The shadow-forged steel began to glow with a faint, crimson light, its edge humming with a new, dangerous energy. It was no longer just a weapon of shadow; it was a tool of deconstruction, a key that could unlock the secrets of this ancient, terrible place.

I plunged the blade into the gap between two of the massive vertebrae, not with brute force, but with a surgeon’s precision. I wasn’t trying to break the bone; I was trying to sever the corrupted, necrotic ligaments that held it in place.

The Bone Dragon roared, a sound of pure, unadulterated fury as it felt the violation, the intrusion. Its massive, skeletal tail whipped around, a blur of motion that was designed to swat me from its back like an insignificant fly.

But I was no longer there.

I used the last of my strength, the last of my will, to execute a final, desperate Shadow Slip. I didn’t move. I simply... became one with the shadows, my own form a fleeting, intangible thing as the massive, bony tail passed harmlessly through me.

The move was an agony, a tearing, shredding sensation that felt as if my very soul were being ripped apart. But it had worked.

And as I reformed, my own body a symphony of pain, I saw it. The massive vertebra, its ancient, magical bindings severed, was beginning to shift, to groan, to break free from the rest of the spinal column.

And the gravity field, the very thing that was designed to protect the Bone Dragon’s heart, became its doom.

The massive, multi-ton slab of fossilized bone was caught in the field’s powerful, inexorable pull. It was ripped from its place with a deafening, grinding crack, a sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the chasm. And then, it began to fall, a slow, majestic, and utterly unstoppable avalanche of bone and shadow.

The Bone Dragon, for the first time, seemed to feel something that resembled fear. Its three heads let out a silent, soul-shaking scream of pure, unadulterated terror. It tried to move, to twist, to escape the fate it had created for itself. But it was too late.

The massive vertebra slammed into the pulsating, green heart with a sound that was not a sound at all, but a silent, bone-shattering wave of pure, concussive force. The crystalline nexus of its power, the source of all its dark, terrible magic, shattered into a million pieces.

A wave of pure, green necrotic energy, a final, dying breath of unimaginable power, erupted from the dragon’s chest, a brilliant, beautiful, and utterly deadly explosion that lit up the entire chasm.

I was thrown from the dragon’s back, my own body a helpless, broken thing in the face of such overwhelming power. I slammed into the far wall of the chasm, the impact a final, merciful oblivion.

The battle was over. The dragon was wounded, its heart shattered, its power broken. But it was not yet dead.

And as I lay there, on the brink of unconsciousness, the world a swimming, nauseating blur, I knew, with a certainty that settled deep in my bones, that the final, most dangerous part of this battle was yet to come. The build-up was over. The real fight, the one for the blessing, for my future, for my very soul, was about to begin.