Vesryn Pulse: Lysander of the Regression

CHAPTER 32 - TO EACH ON OUR OWN BATTLES

CHAPTER 32 – TO EACH ON OUR OWN BATTLES

LYSANDER FARADEISS

In the previous timeline, my combat history boasts encounters with over a thousand dragons. The knowledge I carry transcends mere statistics; I've etched the unique abilities and classifications of these majestic creatures into the fabric of my memory. Among the myriad dragon varieties, the Pure Dragon, by comparison, stands as the most feeble. Diminutive and lacking the intellectual prowess of its counterparts, it is an embodiment of vulnerability.

A primal roar ruptured the air as the Pure Dragon bared its razor-sharp teeth, exhaling a plume of smoke that hung ominously in the air. I responded not with words, but by weaving an intricate tapestry of mana in my hands, shaping an ethereal forge within my mind's eye. The imaginary dance of two swords materialized into reality as I muttered the invocation, "Forge." With a swift motion, I hurled the newly formed short swords in opposing trajectories, one to the left and the other to the right of the bewildered Pure Dragon.

Intrigued, the Pure Dragon, though lacking in cognitive depth, hesitated not in responding. It conjured a fiery sphere within its maw, unleashing the searing projectile in my direction with an unbridled ferocity, the flames a testament to the latent power within its diminutive form.

"Blink," I muttered, and the fabric of space bent to my will. In an instant, I found myself standing beside the short sword I had previously launched to the right.

The Pure Dragon, perplexed by my sudden relocation that defied the laws of its understanding, failed to grasp the reality of true teleportation— a magical prowess exclusive to the Ghost Units of the Elysian Army.

"Rock Fist!" I chanted, and the earth beneath me trembled. A cascade of rubble enveloped my right arm, transforming it into an oversized boxing glove fashioned from the very ground I stood upon. Simultaneously, I channeled mana into my heel, triggering a jet-engine reaction that propelled me into the air. "Rocket Jump!"

Ascending with newfound momentum, I soared toward the Pure Dragon's right cheek. The colossal Rock Fist swung with calculated precision, colliding with the dragon's vulnerable spot- its left cheek. The impact birthed a powerful shockwave, a testament to the force unleashed. In the blink of an eye, the once formidable Pure Dragon succumbed to the overwhelming might of the assault, its reign of resistance extinguished.

"Raaaaaaah!"

A primal cry echoed through the air as the Pure Dragon's defiance reached its crescendo. Its colossal head met the earth with a resounding crash, imprinting a shallow crater as a testament to the force of its fall. Following this dramatic descent, the dragon's form was engulfed in an ethereal white light, a metamorphic dance that signaled its return to a more vulnerable state— that of a naked human teenager.

Dispelling the earthen appendage magnetized to my fist, I approached the unconscious dragonoid with measured steps. The chaotic battlefield now held a momentary calm as I knelt beside the transformed adversary. With a practiced touch, I sought the rhythmic beat of life within, confirming the pulse that persisted. Though subdued and incapacitated, the once fearsome creature still clung to the thread of existence.

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In the realm of chaos, the trio, colloquially known as the three stooges, engaged in a formidable confrontation with a Pure Dragon. Three dragonoid high school girls faced off against the singular menace, a collision of power and resilience.

"Raaaah!" The Pure Dragon's roar reverberated, heralding the impending release of destructive energy. A fiery ball coalesced in its maw, aimed with precision toward the trio.