But Mordred had no intention of wasting time on words or diplomatic negotiations. His primordial predator instinct activated immediately, sweeping away any complex tactical consideration. Without losing a precious fraction of a second, he rushed toward the dragon with the violence of an avalanche.

His right hand instantly covered itself with dark and solid scales, jet black marbled with reddish veins, gleaming faintly in the darkness with an unsettling metallic sheen. These scales, harder than tempered steel, transformed his fist into a formidable weapon of war. Then, with phenomenal speed that distorted the air around him, he launched a devastating punch toward Peter's surprised face.

The impact was of unheard-of brutality. Peter didn't even have time to raise his arms in protection or activate his magical shields. Mordred's scaled fist struck his jaw violently with the power of a siege ram, sending his body through the thick wall as if it were made of papier-mâché. The dragon broke through several successive walls in his uncontrolled trajectory, each impact producing an explosion of rubble and dust, before crashing heavily into the paved street, creating a crater in the centuries-old stones.

Immediately, as if in response to this sudden aggression, the lights of Marseille lit up one by one, creating an ominous constellation in the night. Alarm cries echoed through the streets as dragons rushed out of neighboring buildings, some still half-asleep, others already in combat position, all frantically searching for the source of this uproar that had shattered the peace of their domination.

Mordred paid them no attention, focused solely on his main prey. Slowly, with the predatory gait of a beast sure of its superiority, he advanced through the gaping opening created by the impact of his devastating blow. He calmly descended into the street, his steps resonating like a funeral knell on the broken cobblestones, his gaze cold and merciless, fixed with laser intensity on Peter who was painfully getting up amidst the debris.

Peter growled with pure fury, his fangs bared in a rictus of animal rage, proudly straightening his muscled body covered with greenish and silver scales that glittered under the re-lit streetlights. His golden eyes now blazed with incandescent rage, promising terrible vengeance. A powerful elemental aura of wind swirled violently around him, lifting dust and debris in a miniature cyclone that obscured his silhouette.

- "You'll pay with your life for your insolence, repugnant vermin!" he spat, launching himself toward Mordred, his body surrounded by a current of cutting air that whistled like a thousand sharpened blades.

Mordred smiled coldly, that glacial smile that never reached his eyes, slowly drawing his sword in a movement of deadly grace. The blade, forged from an unknown metal, glittered with intense electrical energy that crackled along the edge like tamed lightning serpents. His mana wings appeared simultaneously, deploying majestically behind him in a spectacle both magnificent and terrifying, radiating with a bluish glow that cast dancing shadows on the surrounding walls.

The moment had come to reveal his true nature, to show this arrogant dragon what real power was. In a fluid movement that seemed to defy the laws of physics, Mordred activated the first technique of the Ogame School lightning kata: "Shidensen" - the Purple Lightning of Death.

His silhouette suddenly disappeared, dissolving into the night air like a mirage, giving way to a dazzling electrical trail that zigzagged through space at a speed defying all human comprehension. This legendary technique allowed the practitioner to move at the speed of lightning itself, temporarily becoming an entity of pure energy.

Before Peter could react or even understand what was happening to him, Mordred's blade was already striking his chest with surgical precision, releasing at the point of impact a violent paralyzing electrical discharge that spread throughout his nervous system. Lightning danced on his scales, creating a terrifying pyrotechnic display.

Peter screamed in pain, his cry tearing through the night like the roar of a wounded beast, but before he even touched the ground, before the first technique had even finished wreaking its havoc, Mordred immediately chained with the second form of the kata: "Narukami" - the Divine Thunder.

A blinding flash, brighter than the midday sun, burst from his blade extended toward the sky, splitting the air at dizzying speed with a deafening roar. This technique concentrated all the fury of storms into a single devastating attack, capable of tearing through the most solid defenses. The lightning struck Peter head-on, tearing his protective scales like parchment and leaving smoking burn marks on his flesh.

Peter, despite his atrocious pain, desperately tried to retaliate with the rage of desperation. He projected with all his strength cutting gusts with his extended claws, each compressed air blow capable of slicing steel. But Mordred avoided them with almost insulting ease, using his mana wings to maneuver agilely in the air like a deadly dancer, each movement calculated, each dodge perfectly choreographed.

Then he retaliated by deploying a violent seismic shock around him through a raw mana technique, a shockwave that made the foundations of buildings tremble. This attack didn't just destabilize Peter, but also affected the low-level dragons who were trying to approach the fight, sending them rolling several meters.

The message was clear: this fight was a singular duel, and whoever tried to intervene would suffer the same fate.

Taking advantage of the general confusion and Peter's dismay as he struggled to get back on his feet, Mordred carefully coated his blade with a poisoning and paralyzing skill that he had perfected through his hunts. The poison, invisible but deadly, now impregnated the edge with a barely perceptible greenish aura. He then dove toward Peter, still stunned and disoriented, and delivered a lightning attack from the fourth form: "Raikiri" - the Blade that Cleaves Lightning.

This supreme technique combined speed, power, and precision into a single perfect strike. The blade pierced the dragon's shoulder with almost insulting ease, sliding between the scales as if they didn't exist, simultaneously releasing the poison into his circulatory system.

Peter staggered dangerously, his legs trembling under his own weight, then fell heavily to his knees in the dust, his breathing short and irregular, his eyes filled with total incomprehension at this demonstration of power he had never imagined possible. He tried vainly to retaliate, mobilizing the last vestiges of his strength to launch a final attack, but his body, already weakened by the repeated assaults and the devastating effects of the paralyzing poison spreading through his veins, no longer obeyed him.

His movements became slow and clumsy, his reflexes gradually dulled as the venom accomplished its destructive work. Paralysis inexorably gained ground, rising from his extremities toward his vital organs.

Mordred now stood before him in all his terrible majesty, dominating the scene with his crushing power, his mana wings still deployed like those of an avenging angel, his orange eyes shining with deep and cruel satisfaction as he contemplated the pathetic vulnerability of the once-proud dragon at his feet. The blade of his sword continued to crackle with electrical energy, ready to deliver the coup de grâce.

- "So this is the legendary power of a noble dragon?" Mordred mocked in a voice charged with contempt, slowly wiping the blade of his sword on a fold of his dark cape. "Frankly disappointing. I was hoping for a more... stimulating demonstration."

Around them, forming a respectful circle of terror, the other dragons watched with stupor mixed with horror at the scene unfolding before their eyes. They were incapable of intervening in the face of such a demonstration of raw power, paralyzed by fear and incredulity. Their champion, their protector, one of their most powerful, now lay defeated at the feet of a stranger who had caught them all off guard.

Mordred slowly raised his eyes toward them, a cold and carnivorous smile stretching his lips in a promise of violence, silently challenging them to approach and share their comrade's fate. In that orange gaze shone a gleam of pure defiance, the mute invitation to a deadly dance that no one seemed eager to accept.

The night was still young, and the hunt was just beginning.

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Hi everyone, this novel is coming to an end soon but the adventure with me has only just begun and I feel I'm getting better every day... So why not come and try my new novel "Heir Of the Ashes", I'd put it aside for a while but now I'm back at it with confidence and I hope you'll enjoy it, with daily updates, bonus chapters and an epic galactic adventure!

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