After the breakthrough, Leon felt mentally exhausted and weak due to improper sleep. Seeking respite, he asked Arrax to take over his body and proceed with the plan. Without complaint, Arrax agreed and snapped his fingers, teleporting to the entrance of the Dark Forest. To his surprise, the crowd had grown even larger in the three days since their last visit.
Suddenly, a portly demon—Fatty—appeared alongside his burly brother. Unlike Fatty, the brother exuded strength, adorned with glowing circled earrings. Their underlings flanked them.
Fatty pointed at Arrax and exclaimed to his brother, "It's him! The one who punched me. He looks different now, but I'm certain it's him. Avenge me, brother!"
The brother, addressing Arrax, sneered, "How dare a mere, ugly demon lay hands on my little brother?"
Meanwhile, the Sword Supreme interjected, "Seems you've caused quite a ruckus. Need assistance, little dragon?"
Arrax dismissed the offer, saying, "No need. I can handle this trash on my own."
Undeterred, the brother retorted in anger, "Hey! I'm talking to you. Ignoring me? You're in for a beating."
Arrax's response dripped with arrogance: "Must I Hmph, kneel and beg to me perhaps I'll spare your life."
"I, Silas Silverflame, have never seen someone this arrogant," the brother chuckled. He cast the spell "Ultimate Gravity," a crushing force aimed at Arrax. But Arrax stood firm, taunting, "Hmph. If you want me to kneel, use something more potent."
With a snap of his fingers, Arrax nullified the pressure instantly. Lucia's father, accompanied by his servants, observed in awe. His thoughts raced: Negation—a lost skill. How did he wield it effortlessly? Who is this enigmatic being?
As the battle raged on, Arrax declared, "Let this emperor teach this junior how to overwhelm others with power." With those words, he released a fraction of his aura. But what followed was beyond mere intimidation. A pressure, a force a hundredfold stronger than Silas's Ultimate Gravity, descended upon everyone present. The weakest crumpled, clutching their throat gasping for breath, while even the strongest knelt under the weight of an emperor's realm.
Addressing Silas, Arrax's voice dripped disdain: "Get lost, you pathetic insects."
But before he could savor his victory, a colossal dragon's hand erupted from the ground, seizing Arrax and yanking him downward—into the third layer of the Great Abyss.
Furious, Arrax demanded, "Who dares drag me down here?"
A sinister voice replied, "Seems you've grown more arrogant over the years."
he unknown figure had emerged, shrouded in mystery, and Arrax's fate hung in the balance.
And then, a revelation struck: "Father! How are you not dead?" Arrax's emotions swirled—a complex mix of shock, disbelief, and something akin to relief.
His father's retort was curt: "Hmph, you rebellious brat. Aren't you happy that I'm alive?"
But Arrax couldn't contain his curiosity: "How are you still alive? I saw it with my own eyes—the Knight King killed you in that battle."
His father retorted: "There is no one who can kill me; that time, I lost to him because of his luck."
Arrax's face twitched in disappointment. In his mind, "He lost to a Knight king—even the supreme gods are afraid to face him—yet this old man dares to attribute it to mere luck."
Then his father released him and asked, "Is it a forbidden spell, 'reincarnation'? Why did you plan to get out of the Abyss?"
Arrax replied with an expressionless face, "No, it's a spell called 'Transfiguration.' Have you forgotten? No one can use the Forbidden arts or spells in the Great Abyss."
His father asked him, "Anyway, are you interested in participating in the competition?"
"Competition! What competition? I've never heard of anything like that," replied Arrax.
His father retorted, "Looks like you're thick-headed as usual. Listen carefully; this may not be helpful to you, but it is beneficial for that Carlton kid. In a few days, there will be a grand competition that only happens once every 2000 years. This competition aims to select a ruler for the Abyss, and it comes with rewards and the title 'The Emperor of the Abyss.' So, how about you two participate in that competition?"
Arrax, with a sly smile, said to his father, "If you are saying so, it must be significant. We will participate, and I won't let you down." In his mind, he wondered, "Why is he suddenly so nice to me? I've always been a useless son to him. What happened?"
As he attempted to leave, Arrax gritted his teeth and cursed the supreme sword in his mind. "Everything went smoothly. I told that kid to merely acquire the skill. Who would have thought that brat would accept that Oldman's soul?" His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when his father called him and requested that he switch souls. "I want to talk to that Carlton kid."
"What!?" Arrax exclaimed, shocked. "You want to converse with that brat?"
His father's reply was stern. "Hmph. Do as I say. This deity won't forget the kindness shown long ago. The Carlton family ancestor aided me in ascending the throne by eliminating my brother." Arrax, annoyance evident in his voice, interjected, "All right, I will bring him. But spare me your tiresome tales."
Then he gives his body back to Leon, but he collapses unconscious. Arrax's father uses '10,000 Healings,' a recovery skill that cures all kinds of injuries, on Leon.
A few minutes later, Leon wakes up and asks, "Where am I? How did I end up here?"
"Hmm, have you woken up, kid?" asked Arrax's father.
"whoa! who are you, man! you startled me, are you a Dragon too? " asked Leon in an surprised expression
Arrax's father replied, "Well, let me introduce myself. I am Drakor Bahamat, the Founder of The Great Dragon Continent, the 2nd Patriarch of the Bahamut clan, and also entitled the name Dragon King."
Leon's eyes widened in shock upon hearing Arrax's father's words. "Wait a minute, the second patriarch?" Leon's surprise was evident in his voice. "You are the second Patriarch of the Bahamut clan? That means you are the father of Arrax."
"Well, hate to say it, I am the father of that rebellious child," replied Drakor with a helpless expression.
"Hate to say it," Arrax pouted inside the spiritual domain. The sword supreme sighed in helplessness.
Then the sword supreme said in telepathy to Leon, "Accept all terms he offers because he will be a huge help in your plans." Leon agreed telepathically.
"Well, let's get down to business. Since your ancestor has helped me once, I will return the kindness. I will fulfill one wish for you. What do you want?" Drakor's reply was mixed with superiority.
Leon pondered and replied, "I want to become strong—no, I want to become stronger than any other gods or celestials."
Drakor laughs, tears filling the corners of his eyes. He wipes them away and says in a serious tone to Leon, "Just give me a hundred years. I will definitely make you strong. I don't know how far your current power will take you, but I will make your powers worthy of your realm. Are you ready accept as your master, kid?"
"If you are going to make me strong, then I have no problems becoming a disciple," said Leon to Drakor.
And so, the pact was sealed—a dance of scales and shadows, mentor and student.
In a mesmerizing twist of fate, Drakor, once a mystical entity, wove intricate spells into existence. His ethereal form shifted, embracing human flesh, and he conjured a time magic array—a celestial circle spanning miles, its edges brushing against the veil of reality. Leon, mere mortal, stood transfixed, pupils dilating as the fabric of time unraveled before him. The universe seemed to pause, revealing its arcane secrets exclusively to him.
In this suspended moment, crimson splattered the air—a testament to the clash of ancient forces. Leon's stomach gaped, a void where flesh should be. His widened eyes held an epiphany—the realization that Drakor's 10,000 Healings, a miraculous ability, wove his torn form back together. But the assault persisted—the once-benevolent Drakor now both adversary and mentor.
Drakor struck Leon relentlessly, each blow echoing through the cavern. Leon's screams reverberated, yet determination etched his face. He endured, muscles trembling, and attempted to retaliate. But with every strike at Drakor, he faced a grim reality—an immovable mountain, unyielding and ancient.