[Due to the Host’s efforts and upon witnessing the Host’s current predicament, the System has decided to show pity.]
[Host has been granted temporary access to the Ice-Fire Dragon Bloodline.]
[Host has been granted temporary access to the Mechanical Dragon Bloodline.]
When Drakion heard this notification, he snorted. It was as if he could hear the System speaking in a smug, high-pitched tone—one that suggested it had graciously decided to bestow mercy upon him, all because of his dire circumstances.
Still, it arrived at the perfect moment. And right now, raw, overwhelming power was exactly what he needed.
"You guys stay behind me. I’ll take the lead," Drakion commanded, his voice deep, resonating with rising force as he summoned his aura.
"Yes, Master!" they all echoed in unison.
Drakion turned his gaze upon the six remaining dragons, his eyes gleaming with ancient wrath as he let out a Draconic Roar of War. The dragons behind him answered with thunderous roars, while the ones before him responded in kind.
The onlookers felt it—the storm in the air, the chilling weight of clashing auras. The battlefield pulsed with tension, every heartbeat louder than the last.
"Draconic Art: Draconic Transformation!"
[Activating the Ice-Fire Dragon Bloodline.]
Suddenly, icy winds unfurled from Drakion’s left side while searing flames erupted from his right. Then came the Originat Mist, thick and suffocating, cloaking his massive figure in a veil of primordial power.
A still, eerie silence followed—a silence that turned the skeletal land into a graveyard once again.
The opposing dragons tensed. They could feel it—a rising force, deeper and older than their own. Their eyes narrowed as they watched Drakion through the fog, unease flickering across their hardened gazes.
The dragons standing with Drakion felt it too. A bloodline higher than theirs, vast and majestic.
And the onlookers—humans and other races alike—were paralyzed by the aura in the air. Their throats tightened, sweat beading on their foreheads, yet no one dared make a sound. The awe was absolute.
Then, from within the swirling Originat Mist, two colossal dragon heads emerged—one wreathed in flames, the other shrouded in frost—shocking all who bore witness.
Both heads opened wide, inhaling the Originat Mist with an ancient hunger, clearing the haze and revealing the true form beneath.
Drakion had become titanic. His body stretched between forty and fifty meters long, his wings spanning a mighty sixty-five meters. One half of his scales gleamed icy blue, the other blazed fiery red—each side reflecting the elemental fury of its respective head.
Frost coiled like tendrils from one mouth. Flames danced from the other.
But this transformation held a deeper horror—Drakion’s personality had split. Two minds, two souls, each seated in a different head. And worst of all, if one head was destroyed, the other would regenerate instantly. Only by severing both could this dragon be slain.
Drakion stepped forward.
Both the Fiery Drakion and the Icy Drakion raised their heads high and unleashed a synchronized Draconic Roar. The roar tore through the air, unleashing a deafening shockwave that whipped into a violent whirlwind, spreading across the battlefield like a divine storm.
With a single, thunderous flap of his wings, the Ice-Fire Dragon vanished, reappearing instantly before the opposing dragons.
"Fire Dragon Art: Fire Breath!"
"Ice Dragon Art: Ice Breath!"
Fiery Drakion unleashed a torrent of blazing fire, scorching the dragons with relentless fury, while Icy Drakion exhaled an icy mist so cold it froze everything in its path to solid crystal.
Three dragons were consumed by the searing flames, writhing in the inferno. The remaining three were caught in the freezing mist, locked in solid blocks of glacial ice. The Ice-Fire Dragon battled both forces as one—unleashing devastation on both fronts.
But within just two seconds, two dragons broke free—the Fire Dragon and the Ice Dragon. These two held a unique resistance against Drakion.
The Fire Dragon had resistance to both Fire Originat and Ice Originat, just as the Ice Dragon did. Their bloodlines allowed them to endure these elements—but before overwhelming strength, such resistance meant little.
Though their bodies bore injuries, their Dragon Regeneration activated swiftly, knitting wounds with primal power. They rose again, gazing at Drakion with chilling, murderous intent.
The Ice-Fire Dragon unfurled two mighty tails—one blazing with fire, the other coated in ice. With a sweeping arc, he activated his next set of draconic arts.
"Fire Draconic Art: Ruinous Tail Fire Sweep!"
"Ice Draconic Art: Ruinous Tail Icy Sweep!"
Both tails spun violently through the air before crashing down upon the dragons. The moment they struck, shockwaves erupted in every direction, and the dragons were hurled across the battlefield like broken meteors, crashing into the earth.
Drakion did not relent.
He refused to waste even a moment. He dove again into battle, hammering the dragons into the ground, his momentum and might overwhelming.
The dragons roared in unified rage and charged at him—but before they could strike, the other six dragons intervened.
Two defenders faced each opponent, leaving only the Poison Sisters to Drakion himself.
Fiery Drakion and Icy Drakion moved with precision—swinging both their heads and slamming them into the sisters, sending them reeling backward with force that carved the ground and forced them into retreat.
The sudden ambush stunned the enemies, their defenses broken. Drakion and his allies surrounded them, their dominance now absolute.
"It is time to end this," Drakion growled with quiet fury.
Both heads roared in tandem. Their massive form began to radiate a terrifying, radiant energy. Fiery Drakion blazed with crimson brilliance, while Icy Drakion glowed with a piercing sapphire hue.
The lights were blinding—obscuring the battlefield from the onlookers’ eyes. No one could see what was unfolding within the storm of colors.
And when the light finally receded...
A one-headed dragon stood in place of the former twin-headed beast.
Its scales shimmered with an ethereal fusion—icy blue intertwining with fiery red. Its right wing crackled with fire, its left wing shimmered with frost. One horn blazed like molten magma, the other glistened with the chill of eternal ice.
Its eyes, however, were the most haunting—bluish-red, a perfect balance of opposing forces burning within the same soul.
Drakion roared toward the sky as he opened his mouth.
"Ice-Fire Dragon Art: Flaming Ice Breath."