Return Of The Strongest Player

278 Gourd Of A Dragon's Blood

'What the hell…' Bob muttered internally, staring at Arthur's front with widened eyes and a shocked expression. The Celestial Wings… Bob wasn't certain how the crimson-eyed man managed to conjure wings, but they were incredibly powerful at first glance.

Bob hadn't thought much of Jimmy's eye at first, considering it to be a mere tool. He believed it to be the product of a specific set of DNA, but it seemed the ametrine-colored eye was much more than that.

Not only could it switch places, but it could also allow Arthur to form indestructible wings Bob still couldn't counter.

Moreover, what Bob found even more surprising was the fact that a random Devil appeared on the battlefield before seemingly allying with the crimson-eyed man, doubling the number of enemies the Dragon was forced to face.

Bob watched with a devious expression as Arthur struggled to hold off his sphere, but as the two employed their most powerful moves, he grimaced.

As Nihilus cast "Devil Subordinate: Hellfire Invocation," flames with an unconventional, black-red hue burst from his palm, engulfing the spinning sphere in what could only be described as the Flames Of Hell.

The crackling of the fire was deafening, while the heat could burn even the toughest and sturdiest of materials.

It was so potent that it wasn't long before the flames consumed the spinning sphere, fading away as they merged with the world. Bob grimaced yet again, his expression crumpling at the scene.

Nihilus revealed a devilish smile as the spinning sphere faded. But it wasn't over.

Suddenly, an ungodly scream reverberated across the Arena, forcing Bob to shake his head violently in pain. Draconic blood escaped his ears, but that was the least of his worries at that moment.

"Suck it, you big ass lizard!" Nihilus shouted, quickly coughing blood immediately afterward. He rolled over, wiping his lips with the back of his hand as he stood up weakly. 'I don't have much time left…'

Nihilus realized his lifespan was merely a few days long.

If he didn't achieve Devil Subordinate rank, he was fucked.

However, for now, he simply wanted to watch his opponent suffer.

Devil Subordinate: Grasp Of The Behemoth.

Suddenly, the ground burst open, revealing two disgusting yet monstrous arms. They were a bright red color and seemed to contain grip strength capable of crushing a low Elite Ranker with ease.

Bob realized Nihilus' intention, thrashing around with his tail while increasing the power of Draconic Authority. He breathed Draconic Flames, engulfing the surrounding area in immense heat.

But alas, before the Behemoth, it was all for naught.

The Arena seemed to shake violently, pressured by the hands that could potentially rip it apart within seconds. Bob released the entirety of his power, trying to resist what was merely inevitable.

"The Hands of the Behemoth…"

Arthur muttered under his breath, his eyes glittering. The Mana Stone pumped mana at a terrifying rate, allowing him to rejuvenate himself. "Nihilus, don't kill him."

"Why?" Nihilus inquired, cocking his head. "Little lizards like him deserve nothing but death… Especially fake ones."

"Because I need to ask him something."

"Ask someone else."

"What the fuck does that even mean?" Arthur asked, forming an expression of bewilderment. "Anyway, keep him alive. You're in no condition to refuse what I tell you to do."

Nihilus gritted his teeth, cursing at himself. "I'll keep him alive… If he can survive."

"That's enough for me."

Nihilus extended his palm. It was as if his arm was restricted by invisible shackles, refusing to allow him to move it freely. However, clenching his teeth and shedding a few drops of blood, he gained partial control over the Behemoth's Hands.

'Even the hands of the Behemoth–with only as much power as a low Devil Subordinate–can destroy this entire Arena…'

Arthur exhaled cold air. 'I wonder about the power of the Behemoth.'

There were thousands, millions of powerful figures that had once arisen in Heaven's Spire. As mentioned before, the Spire could help one ascend beyond what many believed was capable, entering the realm of peerlessness.

However, only a few remained ingrained in history.

Many influential and powerful figures who couldn't expand their legends merely faded.

Behemoth–on the other hand–was known by everyone across Heaven's Spire.

However, no one knew what or who Behemoth was.

He/she simply existed.

No one could refute its existence.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

Bob thrashed around repeatedly, attempting to fly away from the clutches of Behemoth, but it was all for naught. It was a comedic scene for Arthur and Nihilus, but no one could describe the sheer fear Bob felt at that moment.

Had he been a human, he would've pissed his pants by now.

The arms continued to close, Behemoth's palms wrapping around Bob's body as if embracing it. The grins on the faces of Arthur and Nihilus widened, to the point where one couldn't determine who the Devil was.

Crack!

Bob was stuck in the clutches of the Behemoth, releasing shrieks of pain and agony as his scales shattered. The latter's hands contained immense heat that left burn marks on the former's body.

'No… No…'

Bob couldn't help but weep and scream simultaneously as the hands continued to close, encompassing his massive Dragon Body. He felt his bones crack, his tail being ripped apart, and his lungs probed.

Blood spilled, dripping down the Behemoth's arms, providing them with a terrifying appearance.

Bob's wails struck Arthur and Nihilus' ears, yet neither of them reacted. They simply watched, making sure the Dragon did not die. It wasn't long before Behemoth's arms vanished, leaving behind a cold, crushed shell of what Bob once was. The pitiful scene was almost saddening. Thud!

The bony shell fell to the ground, leaking Draconic Blood.

"Should I?"

"Of course," Arthur replied, winking.

Nihilus approached Bob's body and began collecting the blood in a gourd he summoned. Arthur–on the other hand–approached Bob's maw.

The Dragon's eyes were devoid of luster, and his expression seemed blank as if he were already dead.

'To be fair, he isn't all that far from death.'

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