"Leon!!!"

From the start of the battle tonight, until now, the only coherent words Leon had heard from Constantine's mouth were these two syllables.

Manic, furious, wrathful—it seemed that Constantine wouldn’t hesitate for a second to tear Leon apart if given the chance.

Even in life, he had been a crazy war-dragon, insatiably combative.

In death, he had been turned into a stitched monster, leaving his emotions wholly consumed by one thing: vengeance.

Leon and the Melkevi sisters had already fought against this monster through dozens of furious rounds, trying every method they could think of.

Yet, forget about inflicting any significant damage—they hadn't even managed to make Constantine show the faintest grimace of pain.

He was like a relentless killing machine, unburdened by exhaustion or suffering. In his undead form, he had only one single purpose:

Kill Leon.

What kind of chance does a living being have against one who’s already dead? After all, there’s nothing left for the dead to lose—not even their lives.

The immense power of lightning dissipated once again from Constantine's body.

In mere seconds, Leon had launched a series of offensives—but it turned out that those were just bravados. To put it bluntly, it was basically the equivalent of *scraping the monster's scales.*

Retreating to a safer distance, Leon glanced at the residual electricity crackling in his hands and, for the first time, began to doubt his own abilities.

“Brother-in-law, can you try a little harder? What is this? A massage session?”

His teammate wasn’t holding back the sarcasm.

Leon spread his hands.

“You tell me to go all out, but what can I do? I’m already giving it everything I’ve got.”

“Don’t give up, brother-in-law. We should turn this desperate struggle into a comeback game!” Isa replied, using humor to alleviate the dire mood.

Leon sighed and clapped his hands.

“You’re right. But this is *Constantine* we’re talking about.

“The one stitched together with organs from Steelrock Mammoth, Netherflame Titan, and at least a dozen other dangerous beasts.

“His body defense is indestructible—it even counters most attacks.

“As for his long-range offenses? Even dead, he’s stronger at range than he ever was alive!

“And his regeneration? You spend hours shaving off some of his epidermis, and before you know it, it will heal in two seconds.

“This guy is practically an apex of stitched monsters.”

On the mysterious and magical Samael Continent, there had never been a shortage of powerful entities.

They were chosen.

They were unique.

They were the strongest of their era.

But Leon Casmode was different.

For a long time, he wasn’t chosen, nor unique, nor the strongest.

He wasn’t a "child of the era."

He was *the father of the era.*

In past battles, General Leon had bulldozed his way through nearly every opponent with absurd superiority.

It didn’t matter what kind of dragon his enemies were—flying, running, swimming, blue-scale, white-scale, gold-scale—everything crumbled under his might.

People like him could only be described as *stat monsters.*

But today, Leon finally understood the saying, *there’s always a higher mountain to climb.*

To defeat a stat monster, it seemed only fitting what you need could reach the goal...that is, a stitched monster.

That was the absolute truth.

Constantine’s Mammoth-infused body was a natural enemy to Leon’s lightning abilities.

If it were any other single beast, Leon could’ve worked around it, brute-forcing a victory.

But the problem was that the resurrected Constantine wasn’t just one species of beast.

Constantine’s reconstructed body combined the biological strengths of numerous organisms, making him unparalleled.

As overpowered as Leon was, he couldn’t even compare to *this* monstrosity.

“By the way, brother-in-law, didn’t you say earlier you still had one powerful move left?” Isa asked, glancing at Leon. “How about now? Time to use it.”

“Uh, yeah, about that...”

“What’s the hesitation?”

After a moment, Isa seemed to catch on. “Wait a second... don’t tell me that move of yours actually *does* what it says in the manual? Light consequence is wrecking all your meridians, severe consequence is... immediate, dramatic death?”

Leon gave a bitter smile, quirking the corner of his mouth.

“Well, that’s what the book says.”

“My, what a diligent student you are, brother-in-law,” Isa quipped.

“Enough chatter.” Roswitha waved her hand to interrupt the banter between the two.

“I think Leon’s assessment is accurate. The situation is dire, yes, but we’re not quite at the point of mutual destruction yet.”

Roswitha continued, “I still have one last contingency, though it’ll require some time. I need you both to buy me some time.”

Leon and Isa shared an uneasy glance.

“What sort of contingency?” Isa asked.

“*Primordial Magic.*”

The words seemed to briefly stun Isa, who raised an eyebrow.

“You mean the ancient, mythic magic long lost to the annals of history? When did you learn that?”

Roswitha lowered her silvery eyes to her palms.

“‘Learn’ is a strong word... I’ve only managed to gather enough Primordial Power to attempt it. I don’t yet know how to wield that energy into actual spell forms.”

She looked up again, her gaze falling on the ever-approaching Constantine. The queenly resolve in her silver dragon eyes was fierce.

“But I’ll give it a shot. Who knows? It might work.”

Roswitha hadn’t decided to use Primordial Magic on a whim; this was something she and Leon had researched for a long time.

They had found that damage inflicted by Primordial Magic operated entirely differently compared to modern mainstream magics.

To put it simply, it worked on an *entirely separate damage mechanic.*

After all, it was a long-lost "divine art," buried in myths. It had to be extraordinary.

Thus, when neither Elemental Magic nor physical techniques could harm Constantine, perhaps Primordial Magic truly held the key to victory.

“All right,” Leon nodded. “Big sister and I will handle the frontlines while you prepare.”

Roswitha nodded back in silent agreement and began channeling the pure Primordial Power.

Meanwhile, Leon and Isa advanced on the monster once again.

The battle resumed.

Leon could only conserve his power now, using the Nine Hells Gate martial technique as a temporary measure to disrupt Constantine.

Isa transformed into her dragon form, charging head-on into Constantine.

Their teamwork worked well enough to stall the abomination for now.

But it wouldn’t last.

They didn’t have the stamina or strength to outlast a death-driven killing machine. Their sole objective now was to delay, to hold Constantine at bay until Roswitha gathered enough energy.

"ROAR!"

Constantine let loose a furious bellow, his massive tail sweeping outward in a brutal arc.

Isa, in her full dragon state, was sent tumbling dozens of meters backward.

Leon seized the weak point created by Constantine’s attack, activating the Fifth of his Nine Hells Technique—*Inertia Star*—and landing a direct strike on Constantine’s ribs.

The attack managed to cause some damages.

But it wasn’t enough.

All he did was enrage the stitched monstrosity even further.

Constantine let out another beastly howl and swung one immense flame-infused arm down onto Leon.

Leaping sideways, Leon narrowly dodged the strike, but still got clipped by the shockwave.

By the time the dust settled, he and Isa both got fresh injuries.

Constantine, on the other hand, still looked as sturdy and untouchable as ever.

Meanwhile, away from the thick of battle, Scott uncorked a bottle of champagne.

“Fael, if I bring back Leon’s head after this, what kind of reward do you think Lord Elandy will bestow upon me?”

The Iron-Winged Dragon King feigned indifference, barely glancing at the human beside him. He didn’t particularly care about what "rewards" the human world offer.

He only understood one thing: until the fight was truly over, premature celebration was unwise.

“Likely a very generous reward, Mr. Scott,” Fael replied.

Scott sneered, taking another sip. “I’ve never seen Leon so uncollected before. Back when we were in the Dragon Slayer Army, he was always the cockiest one.”

“Was he?” Fehr responded coolly.

Understanding the subjective nature of perspective, Fael didn’t dwell on the comment.

But just as Scott reached for another drink, Fael’s brow furrowed. He extended a finger toward the ongoing battle.

“Seems like they’re pulling out something new, Mr. Scott.”

“Something new?” Scott squinted.

Sure enough, the silver-haired woman seemed to be accumulating an entirely different kind of power—a force completely distinct from earlier.

Scott’s gaze sharpened, and then realization struck him.

“That’s... Primordial Power! That silver-haired dragon queen actually knows how to wield Primordial Power?!”

Fael scratched his temple thoughtfully. Roswitha’s energy signature was unmistakably Primordial Power.

Yes, back in the frozen North, Fael himself had stolen a portion of Noa energy from that exploration team.

Even Fael felt astonishment now. For a Dragon Queen who’d previously never encountered Noa’s mysteries to not only adapt but wield this ancient force so adeptly?

It was... unbelievable.

“So, Mr. Scott, this ultimate creature your Empire created—do you suppose it can withstand an attack from Primordial Power?” Fael queried.

Sweat trickled down Scott’s forehead. He swallowed nervously before muttering,

“Who says it has to withstand it?”

“Oh? Are you suggesting this killing machine is capable of tactics as well?”

“Of course. He’s not a mindless flesh puppet. Just wait and see. Constantine will achieve his mission perfectly.”

Despite his bold words, Scott’s instincts remained uneasy.

To the Empire, Leon’s shadow loomed large and dark. There was no telling what sort of ridiculous trump card that silver-haired dragon queen might be about to unleash.

On the battlefield, Roswitha stood with the gleam of pure, unadulterated Primordial Power radiating from her hands.

Leon watched in quiet awe. The ethereal light reflected off his wide eyes.

In all their prior attempts and training, Roswitha had never managed to accumulate Primordial Power of such extraordinary purity.

It seemed like this time, she was truly going all out.

Primordial Power lightly rustled through her silver hair, her upturned dragon pupils resolute and unwavering.

"I'm going in."

As those words fell, the queen turned into a streak of shimmering silver light, swiftly closing the distance to Constantine.

The monster, who moments ago seemed incapable of understanding fear, felt terror for the first time in the face of such terrifying raw power.

Primordial Power was a mysterious force passed down from the progenitors of the Dragon Clan, exerting a profound control over their bloodlines.

Even though Constantine only retained a dragon's head, the power still clearly suppressed him.

Roswitha's figure zipped through the air. Before Constantine could react, she leaped high and unleashed the purest Primordial Power from her hands.

A blinding light instantly engulfed Constantine.

The attack didn’t exhibit the showy magnificence of the earlier Elemental Magic, but the onlookers were deeply shaken by the sheer potency of the power.

Even Roswitha herself found it hard to believe.

"The Primordial Power... it’s so, so strong."

Moments later, the furious light began to fade.

Constantine, however, had vanished.

Roswitha furrowed her brow. "How could this...?"

Leon and Isa hurried forward. "Did we win?"

"His body has completely obliterated. I think we succeeded," Isa said.

But Roswitha shook her head. "Something’s not right... My attack did land on him, I know it did, but then—"

Thud—

Thud—

Suddenly, a heavy and oppressive sound came from the side.

The three turned toward the noise.

There it stood. That chaotic monstrosity.

Even after losing half its body due to Roswitha’s attack, it still had no intention of stopping.

Isa stared at the creature's bloodied form. "How is it still standing after taking a direct hit from Primordial Power...?"

"No, it didn’t withstand the attack," Leon said.

"It... escaped."

"Escaped? At such close range? Even little Roswitha, a speed-specialized silver dragon, couldn’t escape that blast. How did something so bulky manage to teleport from there to here in an instant?"

Leon exhaled slowly. And then... he laughed.

Roswitha and her sister froze.

W-What’s going on?

Has he lost his mind?

The decisive blow meant to end the crisis hadn’t worked as they’d hoped. Why was he laughing now?

"Leon, did you... think of something?" Roswitha asked between labored breaths. Her body was severely weakened; her use of Primordial Power had drained her magical energy significantly.

"Constantine didn’t teleport by himself."

Leon slowly raised a hand and pointed to Constantine's chest. "He used spatial magic."

"Spatial magic?"

Following Leon’s gesture, the sisters looked toward Constantine’s remaining torso.

In Constantine's chest, they spotted a glowing black dragon scale.

It was Roswitha’s earlier attack, shattering the steel-mammoth’s form, that had exposed the scale.

Roswitha’s mind raced. "That—that’s Bly’s Heart-Guarding Dragon Scale!"

The Black Sun Dragon King, Bly, was one of the Dragon Kings skilled in spatial magic. Long ago, he and the Anarchy Dragon King Jargus had been slain by Leon.

"I thought as much. Stitching together so many dangerous beasts and even Dragon King heads like this? You’d need some kind of crazy tech to actually pull it off."

Leon stepped forward. "And that also explains how this thing appeared so suddenly in the Red Dragon Sanctum for a surprise attack—he used spatial magic."

"W-wait, Leon!" Roswitha called out, her voice tinged with worry.

"Even if we’ve figured out how his body works, we still don’t have the means to defeat him. I... I don’t have the energy to gather Primordial Power for a second attack."

There was a trace of guilt in her tone.

"It’s alright, my dear. We’ve already won."

"Wait, you’re saying..."

"I’m saying we’ve already won."

No, that’s not it, idiot. It’s what you said two words earlier.

"Brother-in-law, what are you planning to do?" Isa asked.

Leon slowly raised his right hand.

"It’s not about what I’m planning to do. It’s about what I’ve already done."

Isa didn’t quite grasp his meaning.

But Roswitha, after a brief moment of thought, understood what Leon was hinting at.

"So that’s it..." she murmured softly, a subtle smile of relief appearing on her lips.

Constantine, dragging his mangled body, charged toward Leon once more.

This time, Leon’s response was simple—

A snap of his fingers.

*Snap!*

A spark of electricity danced at his fingertips.

Simultaneously, Bly’s Heart-Guarding Dragon Scale began to emit a radiant blue light.

The light grew brighter and brighter until—

*Boom!!*

Constantine’s body was instantly engulfed by the explosion triggered by the Heart-Guarding Dragon Scale.

The organs and limbs of various dangerous beasts that composed his form were blown apart, scattering in every direction.

Lightning crackled. Light and shadows twisted and intertwined. Smoke billowed outward.

"Holy... crap... Little Roswitha, why didn’t your husband use this move earlier? We’ve been struggling for no reason!"

Roswitha shook her head with a wry smile.

"He only realized he could do it when he saw Bley’s Heart-Guarding Dragon Scale."

"Ugh... I still don’t get it."

"I’ll explain later."

So that’s why, back then, even knowing the Empire would recover the Heart-Guarding Dragon Scale, Leon chose not to destroy Bley’s dragon scale—he was saving it for this unexpected and decisive moment...

Roswitha felt a small sense of pride as she looked at the man standing amidst the flames.

He flicked away the residual electricity from his right hand, stepped forward, and for the second time, planted his foot firmly on Constantine’s head.

"I've told you, old Constantine. Winning the consolation round doesn’t matter—taking the championship is what counts."