The sand particles inside him were driving Nathan mad. No matter how much essence or mana he flushed through his system, they refused to be dislodged. The enemy’s control over their Aspect was simply in a different league.

  He fell to his knees as the clinking chains of sand lashed toward him. The dragon wings on his back shuddered violently, their structure more fragile than ever, teetering on the brink of collapse.

  "It’s over," the enemy leader declared. "Our ancestors did not sacrifice themselves for us to lose here."

  [Healing Factor] was working overtime, knitting flesh and bone back together, but Nathan knew it was a losing battle. New wounds would open the moment the old ones closed.

  But the connection with Argentius was growing clearer. The tiger monster was close.

  He just needed to hold on for a few moments longer.

  Nathan snapped his head up as the Tier 3 cultivator stepped within striking distance. In the man's hand was a thin slip of paper—a sealing talisman that began to glow with suppressing light.

  Nathan didn't hesitate. He burned every drop of lava essence remaining in his body. Ignoring the collapse of his internal world, he forced the destructive energy into his blood vessels, lungs, and muscles.

  [Dragon Heart] had raised his fire resistance, but it was woefully insufficient to contain the annihilation born of pure desperation.

  Through his spirit vision, he watched the walls of his veins twist and shrivel as blood and water evaporated instantly. A pain surpassing hell itself seized him.

  Seeing this, the Tier 3’s eyes widened, and he took a sharp step back.

  Nathan opened his mouth wide. The roar of a primordial beast shook the very air. And from his maw, three streams of lava erupted.

  They shot toward the Tier 3, then hooked upward into the sky as the man dodged. But the streams of fire did not dissipate. They wove together, swirling and coalescing until they formed the shape of a dragon with a vast, spanning wingspan. It was a creature that forced a gasp of terror from every Tier 2 cultivator on the Mirothean side.

  Searing heat scorched the space. The sand on all sides was baked into black glass. Ash rose into the sky as the Sidewinders, finding no place to hide, were incinerated. The Sandwyrms coiled in agony, trying to endure, while the Dunehaunters used their pincers to shield themselves from the heat wave.

  In an instant, the sky was cleared, leaving space for only one dominant presence.

  The stream of fire from Nathan’s mouth ceased. The dragon illusion roared, spreading its wings and staring down at the Tier 3 who was charging in with terrifying destructive power.

  Nathan collapsed, his entire body charred black, covered in burns. Inside and out, he was a mess. The Berserker state provided an unexpected benefit now—it kept him from passing out. Rage provided the fuel to defeat the exhaustion. His teeth were gone, his gums itching as they tried to regrow. Even his eyes had melted under the strain of his reckless action. Capillaries sprouted in his empty sockets, filling the void.

  His vision returned. It had been blurry, but with the help of [Better Vision], he regained clarity.

  The chains were gone from his body. The Sand Prison Array was now struggling to contain the dragon illusion he had created.

  Despite its ferocity, the dragon's wings were bound. Its legs were pinned by two giant hands of sand. Its claws scraped uselessly against thick walls of grit.

  Drawing upon the knowledge from [Martial Arts Mastery], Nathan had infused his ultimate technique with the blood of dragons, multiplying its power. Yet, he was still only a Tier 2.5 Spirit Cultivator. No matter what calculations he performed, as the Tier 3 had said, limits were not always meant to be broken so easily.

  The most positive outcome of his reckless decision was that he had dealt with the sand particles inside his body. [Healing Factor] was utilizing the open wounds to purge them, pushing them out. He had solved the problem the Tier 3 had forced upon him.

  But as one trial ended, another began. Although the Berserker state persisted, his body refused to move. [Healing Factor] was working everywhere, treating what was necessary, prioritizing his circulatory system. The muscles in his arms and legs received no attention.

  With a tearing sound, the dragon's wing was ripped from its body. Its head tilted toward the sky, letting out a cry of agony.

  "Explode!" Nathan commanded.

  From the chest of the dragon illusion, a point of light flared like a star. Immediately, a ring of wind and sand formed to contain the unleashed heat wave.

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  The shockwave from the explosion blew Nathan backward. He welcomed it. Channeling mana into his back as he slammed into the sand, he adjusted his ricochet angle. As he neared the high wall, a vague mana arm formed behind him. It stabbed into the wall's face and, with a flick, threw him upward.

  A mangled Nathan crashed hard onto the surface of the rampart. He couldn't sit up, lying there like a useless pile of meat.

  In the distance, the sand and wind parted. The dragon illusion dissolved after its struggle.

  His lava essence was completely depleted. Nathan’s trump cards were dwindling.

  The Tier 3 glided in from above, his clothes mottled with burn marks. His chest heaved with labored breaths. It seemed a wisp of fire had found its way through his defenses.

  "Madness!" he growled. "Do all that for nothing. And it almost killed you."

  Nathan tried his best to form a smirk. He trusted the enemy would see it through spirit vision.

  Part of him marveled at the mana capacity of a Tier 3. Without [Death Leech], he never could have compared. Consequently, the destructive skill he’d just used would have been impossible. Ruby had only just broken through to Tier 3, but this Mirothean leader must have existed for years. The thought terrified him. The enemy might have lived for hundreds of years to get here. His experience was vastly superior.

  He had been naive to think defeating Ruby placed him on equal footing with the others. The enemy's praise that he was equal to Adrian began to sound like a lie. If he were Adrian, carrying the draconic bloodline, this army would have evaporated long ago.

  "Damn it!" the Tier 3 cursed. "The beast is here."

  As the enemy reached out to grab him, Nathan gambled on the Lightning Aspect remaining in his body, blasting himself backward.

  He materialized a moment later, his entire body aching anew.

  Two gusts of wind collided in the air, creating a piercing shriek.

  A white blur shot forward, slamming hard into the Tier 3. Both separated after the collision, neither gaining the upper hand.

  Argentius circled down to the ground to catch the falling Nathan, snatching him up before flying back toward the top of the wall.

  "I hate this forsaken smell!" Argentius grumbled, spitting to the side.

  "Not the time, Argy!" Nathan scowled.

  The tiger monster snorted, casting its gaze toward the hundreds of enemies. It bared its fangs in a threat.

  Even without a roar, the monsters trembled. They retreated just as they had when facing Nathan. Bloodline was a crucial part of the monster ecosystem. It wasn't that they wanted to yield, but the imprint of their ancestors was influencing them.

  Nathan blinked at the scene. He had thought Argentius's authority came from his strength. That the monsters of Moirath Forest obeyed him out of fear. But it seemed things weren't that simple. It also explained why Argentius was so irritated by the smell of dragons. A competition between apex predators.

  "Another prey to catch," the leader said, his voice cheerful.

  He received an angry roar from Argentius in return. Wind and metal combined, slicing through the air, forcing the group of Tier 2s backward. A few of them even lost their lives.

  "Hope that helps you," Argentius said through their mental link.

  Nathan blinked.

  "Our mental connection is deeper than you think," Argentius teased. "Right now, with the Berserker state, you're letting me know a lot without being able to stop it."

  "Do I have to?"

  "You don't, but I insist you start thinking straight. It's messing with my mind."

  Nathan laughed. [Death Leech] fed mana into his core, the energy quickly burned away to aid [Healing Factor].

  After that counter-attack, the Tier 3 didn't advance as confidently as he had shown. Nathan surmised he had drained a significant amount of the opponent's mana. Recovery time was necessary. Attacking Argentius right now would only bring unfavorable results.

  Before he could embrace the relief, a blue light flashed. A figure appeared beside the Mirothean army leader.

  Ryusei of the Obsidian Fang Sect.

  "What's the matter, Ammon?" Ryusei said, his uncovered face showing a sneer. "Saving the prize for us?"

  "Water-waster," Ammon hissed, "go back to where you belong!"

  "Oh?" Ryusei tilted his head. "Where is it? A hole like yours?"

  The aura of two Tier 3s created chaos that spread to where Nathan lay. Argentius had to use a protective circle to avoid affecting him.

  Just when it seemed the enemies would tear each other apart, the leader sighed, relaxing his hands. "Ryusei, consider this sharing the reward. I don't believe you or the group behind you alone can defeat that tiger."

  As soon as he finished speaking, silhouettes pierced through the sandstorm. A group of disciples in black robes arrived atop other Sandwyrms. Among them, one jumped up, hovering in the air to join his comrades. Another Tier 3.

  Argentius lowered his body, his fangs sharp. Nathan finally could move. Every movement still brought waves of burning pain spreading through his body.

  "Ammon is Tier 3, Phase 6," Argentius analyzed. "Ryusei is Tier 3, Phase 1. The other one is also Tier 3, Phase 1."

  "Can you handle them?"

  Argentius wrinkled his nose at him. "Don't underestimate me! I've been lying still for too long."

  Nathan nodded. "Then prepare to run."

  "You..."

  "Don't argue with me, Argy," Nathan said. "They're not fools. And I'm critically injured. The goal is to stay on the battlefield, under the protection of my master. So your playground is this entire desert."

  "But I want to bite their heads off!"

  "Why?"

  "For daring to beat you up like that."

  Hearing this, Nathan tilted his head, staring at his giant companion. The tiger beside him was so big and soft he just wanted to lean his head against it and sleep for a hundred days.

  "Ew," Argentius bristled. "I'm not your bed."

  Nathan patted Argentius's shoulder, acknowledging its concern.

  He looked toward the enemy. With the numbers from the Obsidian Fang Sect reinforcements, he truly had no will to fight left. A rational person should know when to retreat.

  "Nathan Reed," Ryusei spoke up after finishing his discussion with his teammates, "I was hoping we'd have a chance to clash."

  "I don't wish to touch a traitor."

  Ryusei's face darkened, black as a storm cloud.

  "Well?" Nathan sneered. "No rebuttal, right? You lot will go down in history exactly as I just named you."

  "History is written by the victors." Ryusei growled.

  "Is Mirothea the winner? Or you, the Obsidian Fang Sect, the winner? I see the winning side doesn't like you as much as you think. Will they write kind words about you? Or do you think the future will treat you well for daring to strike back at Caelindor?"

  "Don't let him get into your head," Ammon warned.

  "I don't need you to remind me," Ryusei scowled, turning back to Nathan. "I shouldn't waste words on you. You defeated Zhanyu. So I'm really looking forward to seeing how you perform. Don't disappoint me."