Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods-Chapter 42: The Predator Among Us

Bel advanced, slipping off his second glove and flexing his red draconic hands.. He quickly scanned the battlefield.

Most of the lizardmen had clustered around Garrik, probably due to his taunt. But Garrik wasn't killing them. He was keeping them engaged, acting as a decoy while the others picked them off.

A walking food dispenser then.

Bel's glowing eyes flickered, and instantly, a shift swept across the battlefield. The monsters tensed, their bodies flinching involuntarily. Some jerked back, others twitched, their movements becoming erratic.

A ripple of confusion passed through the adventurers.

"What the...?!"

Garrik gritted his teeth, feeling the loss of control. His taunt had failed. The lizardmen no longer paid attention to him.

"Shit! Don't let them go!" he roared, slamming his shield into one of the creatures, but the damage was done.

One of the lizardmen peeled away from the fight and rushed toward the mages.

One of them panicked, raising his hands and hurriedly chanting a spell.

"Fireball!" he shouted, releasing the spell with shaky hands.

But his target was already dead.

Bel felt the beast coming before it even lunged. His claws spread wide, catching the lizardman mid-charge.

With a single slash, he carved through the creature's skull, cleaving a large portion of its head clean off.

The lizardman's body collapsed lifelessly, blood splattering across the stone floor.

"Watch out!"

The fireball was already flying toward Bel.

A bright flash, then an explosion. The blast shook the ground, throwing embers and smoke into the air.

Most of the adventurers were too busy fighting to notice that one of them had been hit. Only the mages saw it.

As the smoke cleared, their eyes widened.

Bel stood there, completely still, his red draconic hand raised slightly, as if inspecting it. The fireball had hit him directly, but he looked completely fine.

"Phew," the second mage sighed in relief. "Looks like you got the lizard instead. That was close."

The first mage, the one who had cast the spell, forced a smile, but he didn't share his relief. His hands trembled slightly.

What?... I... I'm sure I hit him... How is he still standing?

His eyes flickered toward the ground. Hidden beneath the settling smoke, the decapitated lizardman's corpse lay motionless.

Bel flexed his fingers, feeling the residual heat from the spell dissipate against his scales. He barely noticed it, his focus was elsewhere.

He had just killed that thing in one hit.

These creatures were supposed to be iron-solid, by Garrick's standard at least, so they were able to withstand swords and hammers. But his claws had sliced through its head like butter.

He opened his system to see the last boost he needed before losing his mind.

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[Draconic Evolution System]

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Name: Belzerion

Title: Lindworm of the Scorching Abyss

Race: Dragon

Class: Lindworm

Level: 33

EXP: 7,200/25,000

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Core Stats:

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HP: 800/800

MP: 300/300

Strength: 134

Toughness: 119

Intelligence: 99

Speed: 114

Agility: 117

Stamina: 126

Pressure: 30

Unassigned Stat Points: 10

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Draconic Core: 37%

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Unlocked Traits:

Final Wyrm: Grants extreme endurance, rapid recovery, heightened battlefield awareness.

Bloodlust further amplifies physical attributes.

Goblinbane: 20% increased damage against goblins.

Fire Mastery: Fire-based attacks are more effective, resistant to heat damage, and capable of absorbing ambient flames to replenish stamina.

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Bel's pupils narrowed into sharp slits, his breath hitching for just a moment.

7,000 from a single kill?

His heart pounded. Before this raid, he had just reached level 33, meaning his experience points were practically at zero. But this?

The goblin demon from the cave had given him 3,600. And these creatures easier to erase were flirting with that level of strength.

His gaze locked onto the remaining Lizardmen. His fingers twitched, claws flexing.

[Bloodlust]

The air shifted. A wave of tension rippled through the battlefield.

The Lizardmen froze.

Their slit pupils widened, their clawed hands gripping the ground. They could feel it, an unnatural pressure, an overwhelming presence pressing down on them like a predator staring into its prey's soul.

Then, they screeched.

Panic. Instinctual, primal panic. They moved erratically, stumbling over each other, desperately seeking an escape route, but Bel was already lowering his stance.

And then, he moved.

Fast.

He darted through them like a shadow, his claws tearing through scales as if they were paper. He barely needed to think. His body knew what to do, shifting, weaving, dodging every incoming strike with ease.

To him, their movements felt sluggish, predictable.

One slash, decapitation.

A clawed hand through the chest, instant death.

A spinning strike, three severed tails, leaving the creatures screeching before his next attack ended them.

[14400/25000] [21600/25000] [Level up!]

It was endless.

His stat window flickered again, showing his rapid gains. He was leveling up at a terrifying pace, so soon, so miraculously fast.

And the more he killed, the sharper his senses became.

A wild grin stretched across his face, his breath turning into laughter. His laughter turned into something more, a deep, rumbling chuckle, barely contained as his claws drenched in blood, kept moving.

Slash.

Rip.

Tear.

His mind blurred, lost in the thrill.

The battlefield was shifting.

As Bel continued his rampage, the Lizardmen began to swarm toward him, their instincts driving them to focus on the most immediate threat, the predator in their midst.

The shift in numbers gave the other adventurers more room to breathe, allowing them to fight without being overwhelmed. They took the opportunity, reversing the tide and moving more freely than before.

With this little freedom, some of them noticed.

"What the hell?" a swordsman muttered, slashing at an enemy but unable to take his eyes off the mess further away.

Garrik, now facing fewer enemies, finally had a clear view of what was happening. He stood with his shield raised, his breathing steady, but his eyes narrowed as he scanned the chaos.

Then, he saw him.

Bel was moving like a phantom, weaving through the Lizardmen as though their attacks didn't exist. His claws shredded through their bodies, each kill effortless, each movement surgical. His red eyes gleamed beneath his mask, his posture wild.

This wasn't magic.

This was slaughter.

Garrik's face twisted in fury.

To him, it wasn't the result of the moment, but the little rule that any adventurer of this level should follow: respecting his job.

"HEY! GET BACK IN LINE!"

His voice thundered across the battlefield, loud enough to make some of the adventurers flinch. But Bel didn't react, or rather, he didn't even hear him.

He was too deep, too far gone in his bloodlust.

The Lizardmen screamed as his claws pierced through them again and again. Experience flooded his system, each kill pushing him closer to another level. He barely noticed, barely cared. The rush of combat was all that mattered.

Soon, all the action was centered around him, and then, everything stopped.

For a split second, silence fell over the battlefield.

Eyes widened. Weapons froze mid-swing.

Bel stood in the center of the carnage, his arm outstretched, his clawed hand buried deep in a Lizardman's chest.

With a slow, movement, he pulled.

A sickening, wet sound echoed as he tore free the creature's heart.

The still-beating organ pulsed in his grip, dripping with blood, the rhythmic thud the only sound in the cavern.

Every adventurer was frozen in place, watching in horrified silence. Even the remaining Lizardmen hesitated before finally running away.

Bel's breathing was slow and deep.

His fingers flexed around the heart once, as though testing its weight. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed it aside, letting it thud against the cavern floor.

The silence stretched.

Bel exhaled and briefly shook his head.

Dizzy...

His mind cleared, his instincts fading back into restraint. He glanced at his hands, blood-soaked, yet steady. That was... a little much.

He murmured to himself, voice low.

"Hm... I really need to find a better way... It's starting to turn the helmet into jelly."

His interface flickered before him, numbers flashing across the screen.

[Level 37]

He blinked.

Only four levels? I was sure it would be bigger...

A voice cut through his thoughts.

"You!"

Garrik.