Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 727

Capítulo 727: Dragon Patriarch’s Trick.

The Blood-Red Fire Dragon suddenly snapped its head to the right, nostrils flaring, pupils tightening into razor slits.

Carla froze.

She felt it too—pressure, vibration, a disturbance flowing through the stone like a living tremor.

“What is it?” she whispered.

The dragon rumbled low.

Carla narrowed her eyes.

“The battle outside…? Yes. That must be it.” She placed a hand on its neck. “Good. It’s the perfect cover for our escape. We’re going to use the chaos.”

In one smooth motion she vaulted onto its back.

“I too have a bad feeling about this place.” Even though she said this, she was glad that this rescue had gone smoother than she thought.

Chiron had told her to come retrieve the dragon. Back then, she had asked how such a thing was going to be possible. However, after coming here and seeing the battle for herself, she was of the opinion that maybe. Just maybe Chiron already knew that the sky people were going to attack. Therefore providing the perfect cover for their escape.

The dragon moved instantly—massive, silent, coiled with fury—charging through the dim tunnels of the underground lair.

Other imprisoned dragons roared after them, demanding release, begging for freedom, cursing through their blood-choked throats. But the Blood-Red Fire Dragon never even turned its head. It had only one priority.

Carla.

And Master Chiron’s orders.

The cavern shook as they broke into a wider tunnel leading upward—

—at the same moment a shadow drifted down from the world above.

Not falling.

Not flying.

But descending, slowly, like night itself slipping through a tear in the sky.

Brother Shadow.

His presence alone bent the darkness around him. The flames burning across the battlefield dimmed, as if shrinking away.

Dragons—massive guardians, their scales thicker than fortress walls—launched themselves at him, teeth bared, wings beating hurricanes into the air.

Brother Shadow didn’t even look at them.

He simply raised two fingers.

A soft gesture. Almost casual.

And reality obeyed.

SHHH–WHUM!

Storms of shadow burst outward from him—silent, fluid, merciless. Dragons exploded mid-charge, turned into drifting mists of blood, flesh shredded, scales liquified, bones reduced to dust before they could fall.

Not one survived.

Not one scream lasted longer than a heartbeat.

Brother Shadow drifted forward, stepping as though walking on glass suspended in air. The dragon lair parted around him, shadows paving his path like living servants.

At the far end of the colossal cavern lay the true titan.

A dragon so large the mountain itself curved around its body.

A neck as thick as palace towers.

Wings large enough to cast night across a city.

The Dragon Patriarch.

Ten times larger than the guardians outside.

It was Ancient. Holy. Terrifying.

Its head rested on the ground, too heavy, too drained to lift—but its enormous yellow eyes tracked Brother Shadow with sharp, ageless intelligence.

Brother Shadow stopped before him, gaze calm, posture completely unafraid—like a man standing before a sleeping cat instead of an ancient overlord of fire.

The Patriarch spoke, though its mouth did not move.

Its voice vibrated through stone, through flesh, through soul.

“So you finally came… Brother Shadow.”

Brother Shadow inclined his head slightly.

“Little brother Dragon,” he said softly, “patriarch of your kind. I see the decision to sacrifice your body for endless aid to reproduction has left you permanently bed-ridden.”

A deep, weary exhale rumbled across the lair.

“Unfortunately so,” the Patriarch answered.

Brother Shadow smirked, lips curling in a way that somehow carried both sympathy and mockery—though everyone knew only one of those emotions was real.

“What a pity,” he murmured, shaking his head slowly. “You… you used to be the toughest and most resilient among all of us. To think that you, the one closest to evolving from demi-god to true god, could end up like this.”

His eyes drifted across the dragon’s massive, motionless form—limbs too weak to lift, wings like mountains fallen to ruin. “What a miserable sight you are now.”

He strolled lazily around the Patriarch’s colossal body, as if inspecting a piece of furniture that had aged poorly. Every footstep echoed—tiny, insignificant compared to the titanic creature before him—and yet somehow heavier.

The dragon Patriarch’s deep voice vibrated the entire lair. “Cut the pretense. It’s not like you ever cared.”

Those golden, sickened eyes narrowed. “You only care about my gift. My totem. The Motherwomb responsible for birthing all dragons.”

Brother Shadow rolled his eyes with theatrical exhaustion.

“Well, I did ask for it politely—thousands of years ago.”

A shrug.

“But you refused. You refused because you were convinced your strength would always be enough. Always by your side. Always carrying your pride.” He waved a hand toward the Patriarch’s decaying body. “But where is that strength now? Hmm? Even worse—your allies have deserted you.”

Something shifted behind the Patriarch’s eyes. A realization. A dread that made even a titan feel small.

“All this…” the dragon growled. “This was your plan. You devious evil. You wanted the dragon race to leave the Zodiac Families…”

Brother Shadow clicked his tongue. “Well, I can’t take all the blame.”

He leaned closer. His voice dipped into that silk-smooth malice only he could produce.

“Your pride won’t let you bow your head to anyone. Not even for protection.”

Then, lightly, almost conversationally,

“Are you aware that when core lion beast prides hunt… they do not go for the strongest or the fastest?” His voice slithered. “They go for the weakest of the herd.”

The dragon Patriarch understood. And that understanding ignited fury so pure the cavern trembled.

A roar ripped out of him. His enormous jaws opened wide and a torrent of flame—red, gold, and scorching beyond reason—erupted and engulfed Brother Shadow.

It was a storm of annihilation, the kind that could melt mountains and burn armies to ash.

“I WILL KILL YOU!” the Patriarch screamed. “I WILL TURN YOU TO ASH!”

The flames roared…

And then fizzled.

Smoke drifted.

When it cleared, Brother Shadow stood exactly where he had been. Not a hair singed.

He dusted his shoulder. “You have really gotten weak.”

Brother Shadow’s smile widened—slow, cold, inevitable.

“Now,” he said, voice dipping into that velvet darkness he was famous for, “let’s try this again… after so very long.”

He lifted a single finger, as if conducting a negotiation rather than a threat.

“Give me your guardian totem, and I will leave you… and whatever measly children of yours are still alive.”

His eyes narrowed with amusement.

“Or refuse… and I will erase every dragon of your blood. Royalty included. All of them.”

The Patriarch’s answer shook the bones of the mountain.

“NEVER!”

“See?” Brother Shadow sighed, dramatically disappointed. “Your pride above all. It’s admirable in a pathetic, self-destructive way.”

He leaned in.

“Unfortunately for you… you no longer have the power to protect something so precious.”

BOOM.

A hurricane of shadow burst from Brother Shadow’s body, surging toward the Patriarch like a tidal wave of night. It crawled over stone, tore through what was left of the lair, and wrapped around the dragon’s titanic frame.

But the Patriarch resisted. Muscles convulsed. Scales cracked. “You won’t get it.” He fought with everything he had left.

Over my dead body—!!

The thought didn’t just echo; it erupted.

In the next instant, the dragon detonated his own core.

The world exploded.

A shockwave of molten energy blasted outward, vaporizing the tunnels and ripping through ancient bedrock like paper.

The ceiling collapsed. Entire caverns imploded. Walls shattered, turning to dust in the force of the blast.

Rivers of magma burst from fissures as if the world itself had been stabbed.

The explosion climbed up the lair’s airshaft and speared into the sky, erupting as a tower of fire visible for hundreds of kilometers.

Dragons—guardians, prisoners, protectors—were blown apart instantly, their mighty bodies torn to ribbons.

Sky People who had descended found themselves disintegrated mid-flight, armor melting before their screams could form.

When the storm finally died… silence.

Nothing remained but a colossal crater of ash and molten stone.

And standing in the center of it…

Brother Shadow.

Untouched.

Well… almost.

He touched his chin, feeling the thin line of blood trailing down from a tiny cut.

“To think he would even explode his core,” he said, almost impressed. Almost.

He glanced around at the absolute annihilation. Not a dragon. Not a sky soldier.

Nothing lived.

“All dead,” he noted softly. “Dragons and Sky People alike.”

But he didn’t care. With the dragon Patriarch dead, he could proceed to his goal.

At least thatw as wht he thought.

With a wave of his hand, he moved the debris aside to reveal the mother womb of the dragons. The place manu once cursed with his blood.

However, what he was looking for was not there.

And then a memory flashed in his mind.

When the dragon Patriarch had committed suicide.

That look in its eyes. Was that really the eyes of one tired of life?

No, that was the eyes of one saying. “Checkmate.”

(Author’s note: thanks a lot guys. Please remember to support my new book. F-rank Soul eater. Thanks again. You guys are awesome.)