I am Platcasia Posith, the Abyssal Tyrant. Across this world, all races know me as the Dreadwyrm—for I once shattered a coalition of tens of thousands with a single palm strike. In the ancient era, I reigned as the most powerful being alive: absolute sovereign above all races.

Yet here I remain, sealed within this speck of land for tens of thousands of years. Why? The Triune Archmages and that traitor Odin, the Dragon God, ambushed me. They poured every ounce of their magic into trapping me within this patch less than a few kilometers wide. With no escape, I could only pace in circles endlessly to stave off the boredom.

Still, it wasn’t all bleak. Over millennia, countless factions from every race visited me. Some came to eliminate me as a threat. Others revered me as a god, offering endless tributes of food and treasures. All in all, existence here hasn’t been utterly miserable—but this repetition is dreadfully dull.

How I long to step out and wander the world beyond. After such endless time, that old hunger to claim dominion over all has faded. Now? I just want to play, to see what this age has become.

“I’ll nap awhile,” I murmured, shifting my thirty-meter frame before lying flat on the ground and closing my eyes.

“Your Grace, the Dreadwyrm is asleep. Should we strike now?” whispered the scout, perched on a branch thousands of meters away after long observation.

“Truly sound asleep?” asked the blond youth in silver armor, gripping a white sword. Concern flickered in his voice. They’d waited here far too long.

This youth was Chelseas, the Champion of this world—a hero famed on battlefields against the Demonkin. His current mission: eliminate the looming border threat known as the Abyssal Dragon Xie Long, that indomitable monster.

“Yes, it’s even snoring,” the scout confirmed.

“Good. Advance quietly. Don’t wake the Dreadwyrm,” Chelseas ordered his troops.

“Affirmative!”

Soldiers fell into formation behind him, marching steadily toward me.

*Finally, visitors. I wonder how long this batch will last.*

Naturally, I heard every word. Yet I made no move—only slept on.

As they drew within hundreds of meters and beheld my form, awe struck them speechless. Most could barely make out the Dreadwyrm’s head.

“By the gods, Your Grace… it’s colossal!”

“Can we truly slay this?”

“Stay calm. Even the mightiest monster has a weakness,” Chelseas warned. “I’ll count to three. Unleash your strongest magic—*only* your strongest—straight at its head. Fail now, and we face it head-on.”

“Understood!”

They swallowed hard in unison. No hiding strength anymore.

*Huff… Hope this spares trouble. But it’s the Dreadwyrm. Please, let it work,* Chelseas thought, shifting into stance.

“Three.”

Soldiers snapped into attack poses; magic swirled around weapons and palms.

“Two.”

Energy refined into primal elemental forms, hovering midair, pulsing.

“One.”

Heavenly Fire Rain!

Arctic Ice Spear!

Sky-Rending Slash!

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Spells rained upon my face like hail. A faint, tingling itch spread across my scales.

Honestly? Their full-power assault made a rather pleasant facial massage. Haven’t felt this refreshed in ages.

*Go on, humans. Hit harder. If I twitch, I lose.*

I sank deeper into blissful slumber, utterly dismissive.

“What?! It didn’t flinch! Its hide’s insane!” Soldiers gaped in shock. Their combined might hadn’t even stirred the beast. Despair washed over them.

“No!! It’s feigning sleep!” Chelseas declared gravely. “Those hits caused internal damage. It knows waking means defeat—so it pretends, to make us feel the gap is hopeless. Clever beast, I’ll give it that.”

“No wonder you’re our Champion! Such wisdom humbles us! An assault like that—surely even a god couldn’t withstand it!” Soldiers beamed with reverence.

“Hmm. Then press the attack on its head,” Chelseas said, a smug smile playing on his lips. Teenage vanity, after all.

“Yes, Your Grace! Brothers—unleash again!”

Roused, the allied forces surged forward, hurling their fiercest spells once more at my head.

*You have no idea what you’re talking about.*

Listening, I felt utterly speechless.

This so-called Champion’s arrogance rivaled my own.

*Sigh…*

*My nose itches…*

A strange, overwhelming tickle bloomed deep inside—intense, unbearable.

*Probably stray magic from those fools.*

Ahh—*achoo!*

Unable to hold back, I let out one full, satisfying sneeze.