Chapter 549: I found the culprit.
The ground still vibrated with the echo of Strax’s roar. The underground city—that forgotten marvel, wall of centuries and secrets—seemed to bow under the pressure of that ancient sound. The stones wept. The structures trembled. And the air… the air flickered with the weight of two titans about to collide.
Ignisar did not move immediately. He just stood there, enveloped by the black flames of the altar, his double eyes watching Strax with a piercing intensity. But then, slowly, he began to walk—each step leaving the ground behind him burned, melted, the runic symbols lighting up under his paws. The air around him rippled like a hellish mirage.
“You are powerful, yes… But you are still young,” he murmured, his voice now carrying a different resonance. “I burned civilizations before your mother took her first flight.”
Ignisar spread his wings.
The movement was slow, almost ceremonial—but the energy that rose was absolute. The very laws around him seemed to bend. Magic, gravity, time—everything oscillated as if the presence of that golden dragon was tearing the fabric of the world.
And then he roared. Not like Strax—Ignisar’s roar was a command. A cosmic decree.
The stone sky split apart.
Fragments of the cave’s upper dome collapsed, floating in the air like inverted islands. A golden force field enveloped Ignisar like a second skin. His eyes glowed deep red and…
He disappeared.
In a flash, Ignisar crossed space like a bolt of dark fire. He appeared right in front of Strax, his mouth open, releasing a jet of flaming white energy — it was no ordinary fire. It was ancient plasma, made of pure soul essence, capable of melting flesh, bone, time, and space.
Strax raised his sword, but the wave engulfed him with overwhelming force.
BOOOOOOOOOMMMM!!!
The impact shattered the ground, sent sparks flying in all directions, and caused the lava in the rivers below to explode upward. A dome of white and red light rose like an inverted volcano.
Tiamat screamed. Not in fear. In anger.
“SON OF A BITCH!”
She was the first to move—her draconic form disappeared in a blur, and when she reappeared, she was already between the explosion and Strax, her eyes burning with absolute fury. She opened her mouth and spat out a ray of living gold, made of solar magic. The explosion collided with Ignisar’s plasma and created a vortex of unstable energy, cutting the arena in half.
At the same moment, Ouroboros raised her arms, and her nails became strands of black energy that danced like cosmic serpents. She spun in the air and threw the threads against the sky, which closed like a living web over Ignisar, sealing his magic for an instant.
She smiled, her eyes shining like eclipsed moons.
“You may be old…” she said, “but you just made a very young mistake.”
Tiamat flew beside her and laughed.
“Yeah. Nobody touches our husband.”
Ignisar growled. The seal of Ouroboros pulled at him like chains of crossed time and space. Tiamat’s magic burned him from within. But he was still a Primordial—and he roared again, breaking part of the prison with sheer brute force.
Strax’s eyes opened in the center of the crater left by the impact. He was standing. Intact. The black armor on his body had cracked, revealing silver fragments beneath it—and energy leaked from every crack like smoke from a dying star.
Zani spun in the air above his hand, as if eagerly awaiting the next command.
Strax raised his face.
“Nice magic.” His voice was calm, even after the devastating attack. He looked at Tiamat and Ouroboros. “Thank you.”
And then, to Ignisar:
“But if you think you’re going to kill me with that… then maybe you’re the one who’s too young.”
He reached out his hand, and Zani fell like lightning into his palm. The blade exploded into black and white light at the same time—the fusion of stellar magic and abyssal darkness.
Strax took a step forward.
Gravity itself gave way.
The arena collapsed. Dragons on the platforms began to scream and flee. Ancient statues cracked. The city finally realized—this battle was not just between two beings… but between eras.
Ignisar gritted his teeth. “Then let’s see if you really bear the name Antares.”
Strax smiled.
Strax took a step forward, Zani’s blade whistling like a raging star, its energy reverberating throughout the arena like the heartbeat of the universe itself.
He stared at Ignisar, and with a smirk—mocking, almost brotherly—he taunted:
“It’ll take more than tartar breath and retired talk to take me down, old man.”
Tiamat laughed loudly, still flying over the destroyed field, her tail cracking like a cosmic whip.
Ouroboros nodded with a half-smile, already restoring the partially broken seal. “He loves to provoke his elders. You should have heard what he said to a god of death the other day.”
Ignisar’s double eyes narrowed. The anger in his expression was not explosive—it was icy. Ancient. Like the hardened crust of an extinguished sun.
“You dare… mock me?” His voice now seemed to contain thunder from forgotten ages.
Strax spun Zani in the air, letting the blade trace a circle of luminous runes around him. “Of course. If I’m going to die, I’ll die laughing.”
And then he disappeared.
Not like Ignisar, who leapt through space with distortions of time. Strax didn’t move fast—he was gone. Like a line of code rewritten in the fabric of reality. One moment he was standing still, the next he was on top of Ignisar, the sword Zani slashing through the air with almost incomprehensible speed.
CHAAAAAKKKK!
One cut.
Deep. Fast. Precise.
Ignisar’s left shoulder was opened, and sparks of magma spurted out along with the blood. Golden scales—indestructible to almost everything—flew in shards through the air, scattering a feverish and deadly glow. The flesh beneath them burned, and ancient symbols tattooed on the Primordial’s body burned, activating defensive runes that faded a second later.
Ignisar roared. Not in pain. In surprise.
Strax spiraled backward, landing on a floating piece of still-burning rock, twirling Zani between his fingers as if the sword had a will of its own.
“Did that hurt, old man?” he taunted, raising an eyebrow.
Ignisar looked at his shoulder, and his mouth curled into a restrained growl. His blood evaporated into the air, staining it golden red.
“Interesting sword…”
“Zani,” said Strax. “A dragon slayer. Right?”
“D-don’t talk to me while you’re holding my body!!” Zani said timidly, “You’re holding a delicate part!!” She roared.
Strax looked at the sword… “Keeping you quiet was working, but never mind, better than listening to this nonsense.”
Ignisar shuddered slightly. The ground beneath him cracked again—not from impact, but from sheer pressure of presence. He craned his neck, the sound of vertebrae thundering in the cave. His wings spread fully, and each scaly feather on them lit up with draconic symbols.
“You want to provoke the infernos? Then burn with them.”
In one immense movement, Ignisar flapped his wings and the dome of the cave bowed. A ring of fire and shadows expanded around him. The magic wasn’t just heat. It was ancient. Something alive. A spirit of ages that now wished to burn everything.
But before he could unleash his new attack—
SHHHRACK!
Zani cut through the air again. Not in a slash. In a throw.
The blade spun like a spear, weaving between Ignisar’s magical flows, dodging layers of defense as if anticipating them, until it struck the side of the golden dragon’s jaw directly.
The impact made him turn his face away.
For a brief moment — a blink of an eye — Ignisar was disarmed by his own arrogance.
Strax appeared behind the sword, grabbing it in mid-spin, completing the movement with a brutal kick to the dragon’s chin, which sent sparks flying from the monster’s mouth.
“You talk too much,” said Strax, his eyes burning white and black at the same time.
Ignisar staggered backward, and for the first time… his eyes were not just anger.
They were alert.
From above, floating among broken stalactites and collapsing magical lights, Tiamat laughed.
“Look, Grandpa bleeds!”
Ouroboros bowed sarcastically to Strax. “That’s why he’s ours.”
Ignisar regained his balance, the fire around him now hissing with renewed fury. His mouth opened, revealing rows of unnatural teeth—ethereal points of living crystal and solid magma. His voice now sounded distorted, as if multiple beings were speaking in unison.
“You three… do you think the world can withstand this? Do you think chaos intertwined with love is stronger than the absolute order of ages?”
Strax swung his sword over his shoulder.
“I don’t think so. I know so.”
Ignisar tilted his head, and his enormous front claw glowed with an unusual golden light—but it wasn’t heat. It was something denser. Deeper. Something that vibrated beyond visible reality.
With slow, ritualistic movements, he traced an impossible symbol in the air: a rune formed of curves that twisted upon themselves, seeming to carve into time itself as it emerged. Each stroke left a glowing groove in the air, as if wounding the fabric of existence. When complete, the rune floated before him, pulsing with a frequency that made even the oldest rocks cry.
The entire floor shook.
Ignisar stared at it with reverence and contained fury.
“This is the mark of Uln’garash,” he said. “The rune of the Bringer of Doom. Forbidden even among the Primordials.”
Tiamat and Ouroboros exchanged glances. Even they, daughters of chaos and creation, knew what that rune meant. It was a seal of absolute channeling—a pact between sacrifice and domination. And it was only used by beings willing to annihilate everything, including themselves.
Strax narrowed his eyes.
“Are you summoning something, old man? Or are you just trying to embellish defeat?”
Ignisar growled. “You don’t understand… I’m not fighting for pride. Nor for domination. I’m fighting to keep the whole world away from the abyss you are about to open.”
The air around the rune shattered. Fragments of space floated like broken glass.
And then he said—his voice echoing to the far reaches of the earth’s core:
“I took Scathach’s body… because she was too strong.”
Silence. Even the energy flows stalled, as if the world were listening.
“Too strong to remain free. To remain… alive.”
Ignisar raised his head, staring at Strax with eyes shining with pure conviction.
“A Demon Dragon should not exist. Much less that woman.”
“Ah, so we found the culprit… She didn’t die because of her Demon Dragon physique…” Strax’s anger began to rise…
“You two… go back and help Scarlet… I’m going to kill this one.” Strax said nervously.