Reincarnated as a blue dragon, he collided head-on with a wizarding civilization.

Motu felt a sudden tightness in his chest as he looked at the holy spear aimed at his vital points.

Calculation... deduction...

All possible evasion routes flashed through my mind, only to be instantly rejected.

Speed, anticipation, power... a complete suppression.

If you can't dodge the first spear, you can't dodge the second spear that's poised to strike.

Should we tough it out?

Using metallic scales in conjunction with a residual magic shield, he gambled that the opponent wouldn't be able to pierce his sternum in one strike.

Serious injury may be unavoidable, but it may not be fatal on the spot...

In that critical moment, there was no time to think. Just as Motu frantically poured all his remaining magic into the scales on his chest and his wings, preparing for a final, desperate dive—

"boom!!!"

To the side and behind, the pile of rubble that had buried the green tiles suddenly exploded!

A dark green figure, bearing terrible wounds, charged out fiercely like an indomitable beast!

Green tiles!

Her right wing remained limp, the tear in the wing membrane widening under the force of her struggle; her left arm was bent at an eerie angle; where the scales on her chest had shattered, the remnants of holy power still sizzled and emitted wisps of white smoke; blood was seeping from the corners of her mouth, eyes, and ears…

However, her emerald green vertical pupils burned with a more intense and purer fighting spirit than ever before!

There was no fear, no hesitation, only an almost instinctive, stubborn determination to fight to the very end!

She charged again toward the gray-armored man's retreating figure!

Staggering, yet resolute.

The gray-armored man didn't turn his head.

The second holy spear, which was about to be shot at Motu, was slightly deflected at a tiny angle in his palm, and then transformed into a faster golden beam of light, shooting out in the opposite direction!

"Pfft!"

The dull thud of a sharp weapon piercing through a body sounded exceptionally clear and jarring in the silent night.

The spear pierced diagonally into Green Tile's upper right chest and emerged from below his left shoulder blade!

It brought out a large cloud of dark red blood mist mixed with fragments of internal organs!

The momentum of the green-tiled bridge suddenly halted, like a bird caught in a precise shot, frozen in mid-air for a fleeting moment.

She looked down, somewhat bewildered, at the grotesque hole in her chest, which was now open from front to back, and at the spear shaft that was still emitting a faint golden light.

Then, her body lost all strength, she staggered forward two steps, and collapsed to the ground with a thud, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Dark red blood gushed out like a stream from both her front and back wounds, quickly forming a pool of blood beneath her.

Holy power burned and eroded fiercely inside and around the wound. Every time her powerful regenerative ability tried to stimulate the growth of granulation tissue to heal, it was mercilessly burned into charcoal by the pale golden energy, making a sizzling sound, as if an invisible hand was continuously tearing her life apart.

But her eyes remained open.

Those emerald green vertical pupils stared stubbornly and unblinkingly in the direction where the gray-armored man was.

Deep within his pupils, the fierce flames belonging to the dragon were not extinguished by his severe injuries; instead, they burned even more defiantly because of the intense pain and defeat.

Her right claw dug its five fingers deep into the rock, veins bulging, as she tried to prop up her broken body once more.

However, penetrating wounds, multiple fractures, pterygium tears, and continued erosion by holy power...

All of this combined finally exceeded the limits that her regenerative abilities and willpower could withstand in an instant.

His body trembled a few times in vain before collapsing weakly again.

She lay prone in her own pool of blood, staring at the seemingly invincible gray figure, gasping for breath, blood and foam rising from her throat. Finally, she managed to squeeze out a low, hoarse curse:

"Damn it...you cheat..."

Meanwhile, upon seeing this, Motu felt his heart pound heavily in his chest.

A strange, burning emotion, like a branding iron plunged into ice water, suddenly exploded deep within his usually calm mind.

It wasn't fear, nor anger, but a mixture of anxiety, icy resolve, and a fierce sense of territory being violated.

The emotion surged so intensely that beneath the dark blue scales on his body, the pale red magic power belonging to the Blood Moon Meditation technique began to flow uncontrollably at an accelerated pace, creating a faint yet unusually restless dark red glow between the scales.

He felt a slight tingling in his claws, not from injury, but from the instinctive gathering of power driven by some extreme emotion.

The blue dragon plummeted from the sky, the wind pressure it generated dispersing some of the blood mist around Green Tile. It landed heavily beside her, causing the ground pebbles to tremble slightly.

The tearing pain from his left wing membrane was still like a burning flame, and blood had stained large patches of his dark blue scales a sticky, cold purple, but his senses seemed to automatically block out the pain.

He quickly crouched down, his gaze, like the most precise scanner, landing on the shocking penetrating wound on Green Tile's chest.

The wound cut diagonally through the torso, miraculously avoiding the heart, but undoubtedly severely damaged the lungs and tore apart muscles and bones.

He could see that faint yet tenacious life force, and the extreme deviation that Green Tile made at the last moment, relying on his battle instincts honed through countless trials, which saved his life.

It was at the last moment that she relied on her fighting instincts honed through countless life-and-death battles to make a slight shift at the critical juncture, thus saving her life.

Green Tile's gaze turned with difficulty to Motu, his pupils somewhat unfocused, but the fierce light within them remained undiminished.

"His light..."

She spoke haltingly, each word laced with blood and froth.

"...That's fucking...cheap..."

Motu did not answer. He didn't even make a sound.

He simply straightened up slowly and with remarkable stability.

As he moved, a sharp pain shot through his injured left wing, causing him to tense his jaw muscles almost imperceptibly.

But he didn't stop, nor did he look at his wound.

He took a step forward.

Another step.

Then, he moved his feet, and with a firm and steady posture, he completely blocked the green tile and the gray-armored man who was holding a holy spear and exuding a deadly threat with his equally scarred but still upright dark blue body.

The night wind carried the scent of blood, rustling the edges of his torn wing membranes with a soft, tearing sound, like a battle flag being ripped apart.

He knew he was no match for this man.

The opponent's strength seemed to be only at the peak of the first tier, but the abundant holy power blessed by faith forcibly raised his strength to a higher level.

They are experienced, well-equipped, have a thorough understanding of dragon habits, and possess holy power that specifically counters regenerative abilities.

Escape? They'd be sitting ducks in the air, and their ground speed wouldn't be enough.

War? The chances of winning are slim.

But behind him was Green Tile, who was critically injured and unable to move.

Motu stood there, his golden vertical pupils fixed on the gray figure in front of him who was once again gathering a third spear of holy power.

The brain was working at an unprecedented speed, deducing every possible tactical combination and mobilizing every available resource.

What is the limit of the mental interference from Bloodlight Spell? Can the paralysis from Arcane Power be stacked? Can Mage's Hand create an effective visual obstruction? How strong of a puncture can the metallized scales from the Black Iron Body withstand?

……

Every deduction points to despair.

too weak.

At this moment, he was still too weak in the face of such an enemy.

The third holy spear in the gray-armored man's palm had taken shape, its light more concentrated and more dangerous than the previous two.

The spearhead rose steadily, pointing towards Motu, who stood blocking the view of the green tiles.

His face remained expressionless, as if all he had to do next was crush a slightly unusual insect.

The golden light at the spear tip began to contract and condense inward, a sign that it was about to be launched.

In that critical, life-or-death moment—

Space, frozen.

It's not a rhetorical device, but a real, physical stagnation!

Motu felt the air around him suddenly become as heavy and solid as ancient ice. Every inch of his muscles and every scale was forcibly locked by an invisible force, making it extremely difficult to even move his eyes!

Wings could not flap, claws could not be raised, and even breathing felt sluggish!

Everything in sight seemed to have been paused.

The drifting dust was frozen in the air, and the flowing moonlight was distorted and refracted within a certain range, forming eerie light spots.

The gray-armored man on the other side was also imprisoned by this invisible force!

He remained in the posture of throwing the spear, the light of the holy power spear in his hand frozen in place, no longer flickering.

For the first time, a clear emotional fluctuation appeared on his usually expressionless face.

It wasn't fear, but a rare and intense shock mixed with astonishment and disbelief.

It's like a traveler walking on a familiar road suddenly finding that the road ahead is completely blocked by a wall that appears out of nowhere and is absolutely insurmountable.

Then, in the distorted moonlight and stagnant air, a figure, as if separated from the night itself, silently emerged.

It's Rowling.