Kharzoth wasn't an impulsive creature by nature, and that had kept him alive far longer than most demons of his kind could even imagine, but there was a clear line between caution and opportunity, and at that particular moment he believed he was facing something he couldn't simply ignore.

The small silver creature wasn't just a target.

It was a key.

And, for someone like him, keys were more valuable than any simple victory.

His yellow eyes narrowed as he watched the creature return to Strax's side, that seemingly simple movement carrying implications that could no longer be ignored, and for a brief instant he made a silent calculation, assessing distance, time, reaction… and risk.

Then he moved.

This time, there was no explosion of energy.

There was no warning.

It was a pure, clean, direct movement, like a blade cutting through the air, its form disappearing from where it was and reappearing beside the creature in a single instant calculated with absolute precision, its hand already closing in the void where it would be a second later.

But it didn't complete the movement.

Something stopped it.

It wasn't an impact.

It wasn't a visible barrier.

It was… presence.

Strax's body was simply there.

Between him and the creature.

No transition.

No perceptible displacement.

Just… there.

Kharzoth froze for a fraction of a second, his hand still outstretched, now just inches from Strax's torso, and for the first time since the beginning of that confrontation, his instinct not only alerted him—

He screamed.

Strax didn't move immediately.

But his gaze changed.

Completely.

"You really don't learn," he said in a low voice, without any elevation, without any effort, but carrying a weight that seemed to press down on the very space around his words.

Kharzoth reacted.

Instinctively.

Retreating in a short leap, his form quickly shifting away as his demonic energy surged again around his body, now no longer with arrogance, but with contained urgency.

"I don't have time for games," he replied, his voice firmer, trying to regain control of the situation that was slipping from his hands much faster than he was willing to admit.

Strax sighed.

Slowly.

Tired.

Like someone who had tolerated enough.

"Neither have I."

And then it happened.

There was no gradual transition.

There was no visible preparation.

It was immediate.

Strax opened his mouth slightly.

And the world… reacted.

The air around them contracted as if compressed by an invisible force, while an absurd pressure built up at a single point, and for an instant, everything was silent.

Then came the fire.

It wasn't ordinary fire.

It wasn't demonic flame.

It was white.

Pure.

Violent.

A colossal blast exploded from his mouth, traversing the space between them like an incandescent gale that distorted everything in its path, burning not only matter but the very structure of the surrounding air.

The smell came with it.

Sulfur.

Dense.

Ancient.

But not like that of the underworld.

It was deeper.

More… primitive.

Kharzoth felt it even before reacting.

His entire body stiffened.

Not by choice.

By instinct.

A fear that didn't stem from logic, nor calculation, but from something much older, something buried deep within the essence of creatures like him.

He moved.

Barely.

His body disappeared from the path of the blast at the last possible instant, reappearing dozens of meters to the side as the stream of flames swept through the forest, consuming trees, soil, and even the air in its path, leaving only a trail of utter destruction.

But what made him tremble wasn't the attack itself.

It was the smell.

That smell.

His eyes widened slightly as he took a deep breath, involuntarily acknowledging what his mind was still trying to deny.

"…this… isn't…" he murmured, his voice faltering for a brief moment before regaining firmness.

Strax slowly closed his mouth.

The last white spark dissipated into the air.

And then he began to walk.

Slowly.

Toward Kharzoth.

"We've talked enough," he said, with a calmness that was no longer casual, but definitive, like a sentence already decided. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

Each step he took seemed to weigh more than it should, not from the physical impact, but from the pressure that accumulated around his body, slightly distorting the space around him as if something much larger were trying to manifest itself through that form.

"It's time to kill."

The words weren't spoken in anger.

Nor in haste.

But with absolute certainty.

And it was at that moment that Kharzoth perceived the change.

First it was subtle.

Almost imperceptible.

Strax's body… grew.

Not grotesquely.

Not as an abrupt transformation.

But as a natural expansion, as if his form were simply… releasing invisible restrictions that had previously held it back.

His muscles expanded.

The structure of his body became denser, more solid, as if each fiber carried a much greater weight than before, while his presence increased proportionally, filling the space around him in an almost oppressive way.

And then—

The horns appeared.

They didn't sprout violently.

They… appeared.

Sliding out of his head as if they had always been there, only hidden, long, curved, with a texture unlike the common horns of underworld demons.

And Kharzoth realized this immediately.

His eyes fixed on them.

And something inside him… broke.

"…no…" he murmured, taking an involuntary step back, his mind finally connecting everything that until then had seemed only strange or incomprehensible.

The energy.

The fire.

The smell.

The pressure.

The absurd resistance.

The connection with the creature.

The horns.

"…this isn't possible."

Strax stopped.

A few meters from him.

And tilted his head slightly.

"Now you're beginning to understand," he said, with an almost cruel tranquility.

Kharzoth swallowed hard.

A small gesture.

But revealing.

"You are not a demon," he said, his voice now lower, more tense, as if each word carried the weight of a conclusion he didn't want to accept.

Strax didn't answer.

But he didn't need to.

Because Kharzoth already knew.

His eyes narrowed.

And his voice came out almost as a whisper.

"…you are a dragon."

The silence that followed was absolute.

Not even the wind dared to move.

Not even the leaves trembled.

Because, at that instant, something much older than the underworld was present there.

Strax smiled.

But it wasn't a friendly smile.

It was the kind of smile that precedes extinction.

"Finally."

Kharzoth took another step back. And this time it wasn't instinct.

It was choice.

Because now he understood.

Or at least…

Enough.

But there was no more room for hesitation.

His body exploded in demonic energy again, but now there was no refined control, no meticulous calculation, there was only one thing:

Survival.

He charged forward.

With everything he had.

His speed surpassing previous limits, his form distorting slightly as his energy condensed around his arms into pulsating black blades, ready to cut, tear, and destroy anything in his path.

He was no longer trying to capture.

He was trying to kill.

Or at least… survive.

But Strax didn't move.

He didn't dodge.

He didn't block.

He just watched.

And when Kharzoth finally reached striking range—

Strax vanished.

Not like teleportation.

But like something that simply ceased to occupy that space.

And reappeared—

Behind him.

"Slow."

The word had barely been uttered when the impact occurred.

The blow wasn't visible.

But the result was.

Kharzoth's body was hurled forward with absurd force, piercing the air like an uncontrolled projectile before colliding with the ground, opening a deep crater that spread in cracks several meters around.

Silence fell again.

Heavy.

Dense.

Irreversible.

Strax remained where he was.

Momentary.

His horns projecting his silhouette against the filtered light of the destroyed forest.

And behind him—

The small creature.

Watching.

Always watching.

But now… not just with curiosity.

There was something more.

Something that grew along with that presence.

Something that, like Strax…

was only beginning to awaken.

The crater was still smoking when Kharzoth's body lay motionless for a few moments at the bottom of the impact, partially enveloped by dust, rock fragments, and exposed roots that had been violently ripped from the earth, but the silence that followed was not one of immediate victory, but rather of something that was not yet over.

Then he moved.

Slowly at first, like someone testing their own limits after a blow that should have been incapacitating but clearly hadn't been enough, his fingers digging into the cracked ground as his body rose again, enveloped by a demonic aura that was now not only intense but unstable.

The impact had been felt.

Deeply.

But not enough to end it.

Dark blood trickled from his forehead, evaporating before it even touched the ground, as his eyes lifted again to meet Strax's figure in the distance, and this time there was no arrogance there.

Only recognition.

"…a dragon…" he murmured again, now more clearly, as if repeating it helped his mind accept the reality before him, even though his instinct screamed that this shouldn't be happening in that place, on that plane, at that moment.

Strax didn't answer.

He just stood there, watching.

But something was different now.

Its presence wasn't just there.

It was expanding.

Like an invisible tide that slowly engulfed everything around it, filling every space with a constant, suffocating, inescapable pressure.

Albedo felt it immediately, his body stiffening as his own demonic energy reacted instinctively to it, not in confrontation, but in partial submission, as if recognizing a hierarchy he couldn't challenge.

Shura, on the other hand, lowered his body slightly, not out of fear, but out of predatory instinct before something much larger than any prey or rival he had ever faced, his eyes fixed on Strax now with a rare mixture of attention and caution.

And the creature…

The small silver creature didn't move.

But its eyes shone.

More than before.

Much more.

As if it were… responding.

It was as if what emanated from Strax was being absorbed, reflected, understood on a level that none of the others present could reach.

Kharzoth took another deep breath, but this time the gesture wasn't merely physical.

He was gathering power.

His demonic aura began to intensify around his body much more aggressively than before, the black flames now expanding in irregular patterns, as if his own essence were being forced beyond the safe limit.

He knew.

There was no room for containment.

If he wanted to get out of there…

He would have to risk everything.

"So that's it…" he said, his voice lower, heavier, as he slowly raised his arm, the energy condensing around him into a denser, more solid form, as if creating something beyond a simple attack. "A dragon playing in the mortal world…"

Strax tilted his head slightly.

"Playing?" "He repeated it, with a slight hint of curiosity, as if that choice of word was… interesting."

Kharzoth ignored him.

His gaze was now completely focused.

"You don't understand what's at stake here," he continued, as the energy around his arm began to take shape, lengthening, compressing, until it formed something resembling a pulsating black blade, made of pure condensed demonic essence. "What you're protecting—"

He pointed at the creature.

"—isn't just dangerous."

His voice dropped even lower.

"It's catastrophic."

Strax glanced briefly at the small creature beside him.

It stared back.

Always.

And then he turned his gaze back to Kharzoth.

"Great," he said simply.

Kharzoth frowned.

"You…don't understand—"

"No," Strax interrupted, taking a step forward, and the ground responded again, a crack forming beneath his foot with a dry snap that echoed through the devastated clearing. "I understand perfectly."

The air seemed to sink.

The pressure increased.

"You want this."

Another step.

"And I…"

Another.

"…I won't let you."