Talent Awakening: I, the Weakest Awakened, Start with Dragonfire Spell

"War?"

Gick laughed, as if he had heard some joke.

Ali, though a subhuman herself, had not truly lived within human society.

Moreover, due to her race, even if her identity were exposed in human realms, she would likely meet surprise rather than loathing or disdain.

Thus, she could not understand the despair of those subhumans living in the metaphorical gutters.

"Have you truly experienced despair?"

"At a dead end, with no parents, abandoned simply because of the legacy of a past bloodline. Everyone sees you as a symbol of calamity, with no food to eat, nowhere to sleep..."

"The worst off are not the pureborn subhumans, but those among humans who awaken with an alien bloodline!"

"Not just they themselves suffer, but also their parents, relatives, and friends... None are spared!"

"Such a world is wrong; it's twisted!"

This distortion is the real disaster!

Ali thought of Jelia; weren't the subhumans Gick spoke of just like that? She lowered the sword in her hand.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the distant continent, a young boy raised his long sword once again.

...

The land was a deep crimson, with flames flowing like water, meandering wildly.

Everywhere they passed, the earth dried up and cracked open.

Everything was moving towards destruction in the rising flames.

In this apocalyptic landscape, a gaunt young boy stood leaning on his long sword.

Despite being covered in wounds, his breathing ragged and heavy like a dying beast, and one of his eyes sealed shut by dried blood, he still stubbornly lifted his head to look at the ferocious humanoid figure wrapped in dark red flames, standing about a hundred meters away.

The monstrous figure towered over five meters tall, with a pair of curved, coiling horns atop its head and a set of reverse-jointed goat legs below.

Its deep red eyes flowed with molten gold, and its breath carried the scent of sulfur and death.

All these features closely resembled the devil as described in legends.

This was indeed a devil.

This wasn't the first devil the boy had encountered, but it was certainly the most powerful.

Its height over five meters indicated it had reached full maturity; the gold-red in the depths of its eyes signified a lineage of pure-blood devils; the flames, dark red as if blackened, meant it possessed enough power to destroy a city.

Faced with such a devil, even an army of tens of thousands might not be enough, yet the boy had only his long sword.

Staring fixedly at the devil, which stood motionless in the distance, the boy tried to straighten up, only to have his wounds pull painfully, eliciting a muffled groan as blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.

This time, it seemed, he might die here.

A mature devil was not something a level 2 magus could contend with; just a probing exchange had left him in this sorry state...

I'm sorry, it looks like I won't be able to fulfill our promise. I can't take you back, Morena.

The mana, not yet fully dried up, began to flow again, converging towards his eyes.

"I never fancied myself as a hero, a brave warrior, or a savior of any sort," he spoke slowly, making an effort not to agitate his wounds, though blood still steadily trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"Such roles are far too remote for me. They're bitter and exhausting, not to mention devoid of benefits like health insurance or a pension, and the mortality rate is alarmingly high. It's hardly what one would call a stable job."

"All I ever wanted was to live a quiet life. It doesn't have to be glorious or sensational. As long as I have the people I love by my side, as long as we can grow old together, I would be content. Such a modest wish, yet now it seems unattainable... I can't help but feel resentful."

Finally, the boy stood upright, at the cost of blood flowing from wounds all over his body.

He slowly lifted his long sword, assuming a defensive stance.

Though his gaze was unfocused, his feet were firmly planted, as if rooted to the ground.

"Hey, Mr. Devil, you know, I'm usually quite gentle, but occasionally, I can go a bit mad," he said.

"And when I do, I tend to do irrational things. Like trying to play the hero, for instance, or becoming a demon hunter."

"But such a title really doesn't suit me, does it? Not as much as 'avenger' sounds."

"Yes, 'avenger.'"

You understand, don't you?

Everything you've done, everything you've done to those people there!

All the remaining mana finally converged at his eyes, as the boy curved his lips slightly.

Although he felt somewhat sorry for Degur, this way, at least, he would have a fighting chance, albeit only for one strike.

Focusing inwardly, he saw a magic array, no larger than the pad of his little finger, slowly rotating between his eyes, emitting a faint light with each revolution.

This was a seal array, locking away the power within his eyes.

The boy had once lost his sight, and though the eyes that were implanted back were from a powerful spellbeast, their strength also meant they were prone to losing control.

Thus, the power was sealed.

But now, losing control didn't matter anymore.

Be it blindness or madness, he only desired power!

The power to cleave his enemy in two!

Blood debts must be paid in blood!

Stepping forward, he broke the seal in one stroke!

The moment the power surged forth, the boy's vision plunged into darkness, his eyes burning out completely! It was a pain that pierced deep into his soul.

But that was irrelevant; he only needed one swing.

Just to unleash that one strike was enough.

Whether blindness or death awaited him, it mattered not.

The flames of anger consumed his sanity.

Without sight, he could still pinpoint his enemy.

Hatred and the prospect of death guided his direction.

The scorching wind brushed past him as he ran through the crevices of time...

And swung his sword!

The battle began abruptly and ended just as suddenly.

Although he had gambled everything, not all efforts are met with equal reward.

Blood meandered along the blade, like a venomous snake sensing its prey, or like primitive script, twisting and stretching, exuding the rawest essence of death.

Accompanied by a chill akin to death, the pain that followed was not as intense as the boy had imagined.

He felt something pierce through his chest; deprived of his sight, he could not lose sight of his target, yet he was unable to pinpoint the opponent's blade.

In the devil's hand was a short dagger, magnified more than twice its size.

"I've honed this blade for many years, just for moments like this."

This was the first time the devil spoke, causing the boy to pause in surprise.

Do devils have their own language?

"What do you think we are? Monsters? Beasts? The incident in that village, do you truly believe it was my doing? Did you see it with your own eyes, or did you merely hear of it from others? Do you have any proof?"

The devil took a half step back, looking down at the boy who was not even half his height.

His molten lava-like red pupils betrayed no emotion.

With a gesture, his innate monstrous strength flung the boy over ten meters away.

"You just come out of nowhere, destroy my human body, and start a fight on your own terms. Tell me, young man, are you really that brave, or do you simply not use your brain! I've been here for less than a week, and how long did you say you've been looking for me? Half a month!"

"I was bathing in a magma pool half a month ago!"

The devil seemed incredibly angry, cursing loudly while a myriad of fiery sparks spewed from his mouth.

It was fortunate that the surroundings had already been scorched by fire once; otherwise, it wouldn't take minutes before another inferno ignited.

The boy opened his mouth, the devil's words were logically coherent, yet who could corroborate his story?

It might as well be a monologue, and in the end, he was the one lying here, defeated.

This thought reignited a sense of powerlessness within the boy, enveloping him in profound despair.

"Really now… In such a state, tattered and torn, not even a healing spell would suffice."

The devil, with thunderous steps, walked to a corner of the battlefield, where a patch of land remained relatively intact.

On the ground lay a young body, segmented into pieces, belonging to someone the boy's age.

The blood had long dried up inside the veins, leaving little trace on the earth below.

This had been the devil's initial disguise, but the boy, seeing through the façade, had discerned its true nature.

Thus, with two strikes, he shattered the disguise, immediately attacking the devil in its true form with his sword.

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