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Chapter 80: Saving the Dragon Soul (3)
"Lyka... remember, in your next life, never trust anyone easily."
Lyka’s head flew into the air, eyes frozen in disbelief at the fact that Drakion had assassinated and killed her. Her gaze dimmed as her head thudded to the ground, blood pooling in every direction.
Drakion stared coldly at her corpse and shook his head.
"It’s really fate that we met again... allowing me to take revenge."
He hadn’t planned on doing it—not at first. But the moment he felt a flicker of happiness upon hearing what had happened to her clan, something twisted in his mind. The urge to kill her took over.
"Your relapse of the Devouring occurred again," Drax sighed, while Drakion simply shook his head.
"Well, blame fate and misfortune for making us meet again," Drakion muttered, glancing at the body before turning away.
"Oh? Do you think so?" a voice suddenly echoed behind him.
Drakion and Drax froze. The voice—it was familiar, one he would never forget.
Drakion turned, heart tightening—and saw Lyla’s severed head resting on the ground, smiling at him with amused delight.
He stumbled a few steps back, eyes wide in shock.
"So, how was my acting?" she asked mischievously.
In the next instant, what he witnessed shook him to his core: her headless body stood up and walked towards the head. It bent down, picked it up, and placed it above the severed neck. Bone and flesh began to reconnect. Within moments, she was whole again—unharmed, as though nothing had happened.
Drakion stood frozen, utterly aghast. Was this the real Lyla? Or was it an illusion conjured by the death mist? 𝖓𝔬𝖛𝔭𝔲𝖇.𝔠𝔬𝖒
Lyla smiled upon seeing his expression.
"Don’t worry, it’s not what you’re thinking. It’s the real me," she said sweetly—sending another wave of shock through Drakion, who now questioned how she had known his thoughts.
"I was just wondering how long you were going to suppress all that killing intent," she smiled, the curve of her lips chilling him to the bone.
"So you knew," Drakion said coldly.
"Yes. You didn’t do a great job hiding it. But what surprises me is how I ended up your enemy, Drakion," she said with a sadistic grin.
"Hey, Drakion... isn’t it shocking?" Drax cut in. "She’s a living creature—yet why hasn’t the death aura affected her?"
Drakion turned back to Lyka, stunned. She was breathing steadily, unaffected by the choking mist that haunted the forest.
"How the hell did I not notice this?" Drakion muttered in frustration, replying to Drax.
"Well, it’s not your fault. I’m sure most people wouldn’t have noticed either, if they were in your shoes," Drax said, trying to calm him.
Drakion nodded, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto Lyka.
"So, when you acted like you were in danger... that was a lie too?"
"Well," Lyla said coldly, "when I sensed an unknown aura—and knowing the humans and the Lizard Clan might still be after me, since they massacred my entire clan—I had no choice but to act."
Drakion’s brow twitched.
"So your clan’s massacre isn’t a lie?"
Lyka nodded solemnly.
"How do you know my name?" he asked, his voice deadly serious.
"Who wouldn’t remember? After what you did to the Emperor of countless clans?" she giggled.
Her smile turned sharp.
"But I still wonder... why do you want to kill me?"
"Find that out in your next life," Drakion said coldly as he lunged, blade flashing through the death-drenched air.
"Death Art: Phantom Step!"
Since he was in a place saturated with death, it meant the Phantom Step’s strength would be amplified—and so it was.
Drakion’s speed surged as he darted forward, tackling Lyla, whose own speed rose to match his—step for step, blow for blow.
"Devouring Art: Devourer Strike!"
Drakion hurled his fist forward, devouring energy cloaking it like a black flame. Lyka responded in kind, her own fist colliding with his.
The resulting shockwave shattered the silence, scattering the death mist around them in a thunderous blast.
But shockingly—it was a draw.
Drakion narrowed his eyes coldly at Lyka.
"So your cries for protection were nothing but lies." He scoffed.
"Well, I didn’t know whether you were friend or foe," Lyla replied coolly. "Turns out—you were a foe."
Their mouths spoke, but their bodies never paused. The fight raged on, even as their voices danced through the chaos.
Neither of them gave an inch.
Fist met fist. Skill met skill. Slowly, the battle intensified—each move precise, each strike fueled by deadly resolve.
Drakion, still locked in the clash, began to notice something unsettling—Lyka was not only holding her own... her gaze had changed. Her eyes gleamed with cunning, chilling focus.
"Die!" Drakion roared, vanishing into the mist.
Using Phantom Step and cloaking himself in death aura, he disappeared from view. Lyla paused, scanning her surroundings with sharpened awareness. The mist cloaked the battlefield, empowering the stealth of Phantom Step.
Then—
"Devouring Art: Devouring Void Step!"
Drakion reappeared beside her like a phantom.
His fist, wreathed in devouring energy, crashed into her face—BOOM!—sending her flying through the death-shrouded woods.
But Drakion didn’t stop.
He flashed again to where she landed, grabbing her roughly. In his grip, the scythe twisted into a razor-edged blade, poised for the final blow.
"Any last words?" Drakion growled, voice ice-cold.
"Last words, my foot!"
Lyla’s right leg snapped upward.
THWACK!
"AAAAARGH!"
Drakion screamed, his eyes bulging with pain.
"My... my future children!" he cried, staggering backward, hands cupping his groin as sweat poured down his face.
He hadn’t expected that. Not at all.
As he writhed in agony, Lyla stood, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. She radiated victory—the same smug aura he remembered from when she had once roasted him mercilessly.
"We shall meet again, Drakion," she whispered, vanishing into the mist.
Drakion remained crouched, still clutching himself, eyes filled with pain and disbelief.
A/N: Please, her name is Lyla, not Lyka—it was a mistake.
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