Chapter 189

Chapter 189: The Gift of the Dragonkin

"This guy!"

Tanius cursed inwardly, skidding to a sudden halt before leaping backward again.

Yet the velocity of Midi’s "Fierce Wind" was overwhelming, its sword energy outpacing even the technique itself. Though Tanius dodged, the storm’s edge still grazed him.

The Dragonkin’s magical armor might as well have been parchment against the razor-sharp energy. In an instant, the once-proud warrior was drenched in blood, his body slashed with wounds—some deep enough to expose bone.

Seeing Tanius falter, the fire-type Dragonkin grew restless. Many edged forward, weapons drawn, ready to intervene. A few even lunged toward Midi.

Then a roar erupted.

"Back off! This is *my* battlefield! No one interferes!"

Tanius bellowed, his glare silencing the crowd. The fire-type Dragonkin hesitated, then retreated under their leader’s withering gaze.

"Useless fools!" Tanius spat blood, his eyes blazing as he locked onto Midi. "Come, human! Let this end—victor lives, loser dies!"

*Interesting,* Midi mused, a flicker of respect crossing his face.

He’d expected chaos. This was Dragonkin territory—escaping after killing their warrior seemed impossible. He’d braced for a chaotic melee, planned to seek the lightning faction’s aid, even plotted retreat from the Dragon Platform or the tribe itself.

Yet Tanius, of all people, had quelled the unrest.

On Arad, among scheming humans, such honor was unthinkable. Who’d refuse aid when defeat loomed?

But this arrogant Dragonkin chose death over disgrace.

*So be it.*

Midi blurred into motion, an afterimage streaking toward Tanius.

Wounded, the Dragonkin couldn’t match the "Demon Shadow Flash." He raised his spear, bracing for impact.

Their eyes met. Midi’s whip snapped, power coalescing at its tip like a falling meteor—

Breaking Army Rising Dragon Whip’s third form: "Chase the Stars."

Where "Shock the Mountains" delivered unstoppable force and "Fierce Wind" unmatched sharpness, this strike embodied pure speed.

To the Dragonkin, it was merely a flash. None saw the whip’s arc—not their eyes, ears, nor minds could track it. By the time they blinked, the blow had landed.

The attack ended before it seemed to begin.

Seconds later, a *crack* echoed.

Tanius’ spear splintered. His armor disintegrated. Blood erupted from gashes across his frame. The ground beneath him cratered, sinking as though crushed by mountains.

"You—" Tanius stared, fury burning in his eyes. Then darkness claimed him, and he collapsed.

*Impressive.*

Midi glanced at his whip, silent.

After unleashing three powerful Techniques, the glowing whip in Midi’s hand finally broke. With a flick of his wrist, it dissolved into star-like sparks carried away by the wind. The particle-generating crystal embedded in the hilt dimmed completely, turning dull gray.

Even without his weapon, Midi calmly completed his task.

Dragging his tired feet, he approached the fallen Tanius and slowly drew the Black Sky sword from his waist.

One decisive strike ended it all.

News of this battle’s outcome spread like wildfire through the Lightning Fire Wing tribe.

A human defeated a Dragonkin.

Not just any Dragonkin, but Tanius – the famed Warrior with countless victories.

The normally quiet Dragonkin tribe exploded with activity. Some rejoiced at the downfall of the violent bully. Others worried about this powerful human entering their territory. A few even plotted revenge.

The lightning faction felt conflicted. While Midi’s Victory secured their dominance by eliminating their opponent, watching their kin fall to an outsider left a bitter taste.

Midi cared nothing for their opinions. After the Dragon Platform duel, he retreated to the secluded quarters arranged by the chieftain.

For seven days, he remained in isolation.

"Level 44!"

On the seventh morning, Midi rose from meditation with renewed vigor. His previously sluggish aura now surged through his limbs like a raging river, cycling endlessly through his body.

A jade-like glow shimmered across his face. His eyes shone brighter than stars. The small golden sword within him gleamed as if polished by pure magic.

Stuck at level 43 since the Belmar civil war, this life-or-death battle finally broke through his limits. Combat, especially mortal combat, remained the fastest path to growth.

The pure magic-rich environment further enhanced his body. Where he once struggled to balance external magic, his system now naturally harmonized with it. True mastery would require his first awakening, but this progress satisfied him.

Stronger and better adapted to the Sea of Three Trees – two achievements at once.

A Dragonkin guard waited outside. "The chieftain requests your presence at the Palace of Dragon Horn," she said respectfully, leading him through hidden paths to avoid attention. They encountered no one, not even the fire-type expert leading the guards.

In the palace annex waited Lucas, his daughter Xena, and tribal elders. Their gazes held new respect – something absent when Midi had saved the cornered chieftain’s daughter, or when they’d only valued human techniques.

The Breaking Army Rising Dragon Whip’s display had changed everything. This human’s unassuming frame housed power capable toppling their Warrior.

Here in the Sea of Trees’ Sky City hunting ground, strength commanded respect.

"Good news today, Chieftain?" Midi smiled.

Lucas nodded. "Lightning Fire Wings honor agreements. By defeating our Warrior, you’ve proven worthy." He gestured to two chests.

The first overflowed with faintly glowing blue-purple Aether Stones. The second held an coiled whip gleaming like captured starlight.

"Starfall," Lucas announced proudly. "A treasure of our tribe."