"You possess the bloodline of the Dragon Race."
Hebe Shikai hovered in the air, his glowing visor fixed on the iron-willed butler.
"Yet you willingly submit to the command of humans. When the Dragon Race returns to cleanse this earth, there will be no place for you in this world."
Sebas Tian's expression remained as placid as a calm lake. He didn't understand a single word of the ancient warrior's grand speech, nor did he care to.
'The Dragon Race?' Sebas thought, adjusting his cuffs. 'My allegiance belongs to one king, and one king only. The Supreme One who sits upon the throne of Nazarick.'
Without a word, Sebas launched himself into the air, his fist pulling back for a devastating strike.
But this time, Hebe Shikai did not meet him force with force.
Hebe wore armor forged by the King of Bronze and Fire, a relic that vastly amplified his physical strength. Yet, from their previous clash, the Dragon Servant knew he was at a slight muscular disadvantage against this mysterious entity.
A true warrior attacks his enemy's weakness with his own strength.
A breeze swirled around Hebe, bending to his absolute will as if he were an emperor of the skies.
[Yanling: Unblemished Ground]
With a casual wave of Hebe's hand, the atmospheric pressure violently inverted. Sebas's lunging body suddenly froze mid-air, repelled by a wall of hyper-compressed wind.
Hebe reached out, clenching his gauntlet into a fist.
Instantly, the air surrounding Sebas converged and compressed inward, forming a rigid, invisible cage that trapped the butler firmly in place.
"Something's not right!" Hawkeye yelled, observing the battlefield through his tactical binoculars from the distant Quinjet. "Sebas is pinned!"
Hawkeye and Coulson weren't the only ones watching. From the moment the hurricane had dispersed, military satellites had locked onto the coordinates. The battle was being broadcast live to the highest echelons of global power.
[Washington D.C. - Secure Military Situation Room]
Inside a classified bunker beneath the Capitol Building, the nation's power players—Senators, the President, and top-ranking Generals—stared intently at the massive satellite feed on the main wall.
"I told you we had to be prepared to lose the city!"
The hot-tempered outburst belonged to General Thaddeus 'Thunderbolt' Ross. He slammed his fist onto the mahogany table, his mustache bristling with fury.
"The enemy is rampaging across American soil, and S.H.I.E.L.D. is putting our hopes in a British butler in a tailored suit? Do you think this makes any tactical sense?!"
"General Ross, what exactly are you implying?"
The smooth, dangerous voice of Nick Fury cut through the room. A holographic projector flared to life at an empty chair, rendering the one-eyed Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. in shimmering blue light.
"Are you suggesting we drop a nuclear payload on New York? Again?" Fury asked, his single eye narrowing. "I didn't think the next nuclear missile we launched at our own territory would be named after your temper tantrums, Thaddeus. What are we calling this one? 'Little Girl'?"
General Ross's face turned an apoplectic shade of purple. "You son of a bitch!" he roared, rolling up his sleeves as if preparing to fistfight the hologram.
As the politicians scrambled to calm the raging General and the situation room devolved into a rowdy marketplace, the satellite feed flickered with new developments.
Trapped in the invisible cage, Sebas felt the air being violently siphoned away.
Hebe had formed an absolute vacuum zone around Sebas's head. Trapped in place, Sebas's chest heaved as his lungs screamed for oxygen.
'He commands the very atmosphere,' Sebas analyzed calmly despite the suffocation. 'I must close the distance.'
[Tier 4 Magic: Teleportation]
A brilliant flash of purple light enveloped Sebas. His body folded through spatial dimensions, vanishing from the vacuum trap instantly.
He reappeared on the asphalt a hundred yards away. He took a slow, deep breath, drawing the crisp morning air back into his lungs.
Looking up at the Bronze General, a hint of genuine solemnity appeared in Sebas's eyes.
In pure, close-quarters martial arts, Sebas knew he was superior. But the enemy's mastery over Yanling—the Word of Power—put him at a severe tactical disadvantage. As a Monk, Sebas was the strongest unarmed combatant in Nazarick, but his ranged capabilities were practically nonexistent. He only possessed a handful of low-tier spells designed to supplement his melee prowess.
He needed an opening.
[Tier 5 Magic: Multiple Phantoms]
Dozens of identical copies of Sebas abruptly materialized on the ground and in the air. Moving in perfect unison, the clones charged toward Hebe Shikai from every conceivable angle.
Facing the swarm, Hebe didn't panic. He had fought illusionists before.
The Dragon Servant simply flexed his arms. The air expanded outward like a shockwave, instantly crushing the phantoms into fading wisps of mana.
Hebe turned his head, scanning the sky. The true body was missing.
WHOOSH.
The sound of breaking wind came from directly above him.
Sebas, his suit immaculate and his fist radiating lethal kinetic energy, was plummeting from the sky like a meteor.
Hebe looked up, the air instantly surging to form thick, invisible shields above his head.
But a hastily formed defense could not withstand the Iron Butler's full might.
CRACK. CRASH.
The sound of shattering glass echoed across Manhattan as Sebas's fist punched cleanly through the compressed air barriers. His knuckles slammed squarely into the side of Hebe's bronze helmet.
A massive sonic boom ruptured the sky.
Hebe Shikai was launched downward at supersonic speed. He smashed through the corner of an office building and slammed into the concrete street below.
A deep, spider-webbing crater formed upon impact, kicking up a massive cloud of pulverized concrete and dust that obscured the entire block.
From the distant Quinjet, Coulson, Natasha, and Hawkeye let out a collective breath they hadn't realized they were holding. If Sebas had fallen, General Ross's nuclear option would have been the only card left to play.
As the dust slowly cleared, the Bronze General lay in the center of the crater.
"Interesting," Hebe Shikai's ancient voice echoed from the rubble, laced with profound shock.
The warrior slowly pushed himself up.
"You didn't use a Word of Power to escape the vacuum. You used... magic?" Hebe stared at the butler floating down to the street. "You... are not a Hybrid!"
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