Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods-Chapter 43: Flames and Fangs

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Garrik stomped toward Bel, his face red with anger. His heavy armor clanked as he moved, carefully dodging the corpses of monsters.

"What the hell was that?!" he barked. "You're a mage! A mage, damn it! Do you even understand what your role is? Or do you think this is some solo adventure?"

Bel exhaled sharply, looking at Garrik with clear annoyance. He was about to speak when his eyes flickered down to his hands.

"Crap..." He quickly pulled his gloves back on before anyone else noticed.

"I followed the role," Bel finally said. "I didn't fight as a mage."

Garrik's nostrils flared.

"You didn't fight as a mage?! What do you mean?! You think this is some kind of game?!"

Bel didn't need to answer. The mountain of crushed and broken monster corpses behind him spoke for itself. The battlefield was still littered with bodies, many of them torn apart by his bare hands.

Garrik motioned to the others.

"This reckless, self-centered, newbie mindset gets people killed! You think just because you wiped them out, that's enough? What if they had attacked in waves? What if you had been overwhelmed, and we had to step in? Did you think about that?!"

Bel crossed his arms.

"I knew I wouldn't be overwhelmed , this is why I kept attacking. So that wouldn't have happened."

Garrik gritted his teeth.

"That's not the point!"

The argument was heating up when one of the dwarves chuckled.

"Ye've got a point, Garrik, but let's be honest here. That one's too good for this dungeon. That kind o' performance ain't copper rank. Iron, maybe steel."

Another adventurer, a young swordsman, nodded.

"Yeah, I mean, it was reckless, sure, but you can't deny the results. That was some insane physical power."

Garrik turned on them.

"You don't get it. That's exactly the mindset that gets rookies killed! You think just because someone is strong, they can ignore strategy? This isn't about showing off!"

"Oh?" The archer smirked, leaning on his bow. "Or maybe you're just mad you're not the only big shot here anymore?"

A few snickers rippled through the group. Garrik's face twitched with irritation. The last thing he needed was for them to take this lightly.

Then, a calm voice sliced through the bickering.

"Enough."

The elf, who had been silent the entire time, finally spoke. Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried weight.

Everyone turned to her as she closed her book and eyed them coldly.

"We're wasting time," she said simply. "Monsters don't sit and wait while we argue. They've had plenty of time to regroup and set a counterattack."

Silence followed her words. Some glanced toward the tunnels warily, realizing she was probably right.

The dwarf let out a grunt.

"Hah. Elves. Little talk, all action. She's got a point, though. Let's move. And this time, let's let the mages do their job properly."

"Aye," the second dwarf added, rubbing his beard. "The lizardmen 'ere are weak to fire, no doubt. But if I remember right, they ain't too fond o' ice either. Maybe we switch it up."

A woman in light armor stepped forward, the group's healer.

"If that's the case, maybe we should have our fighter-mage lead. The monsters focused on him more than anyone else. He might as well play tank, too."

Garrik looked like he was about to explode.

"... What the hell is wrong with you all?!"

Bel tilted his head.

"Tank?" He considered it for a moment. "I don't mind, as long as I can kill however I want... And no one ask me to follow any kind of plan, I like freedom."

Garrik ran a hand down his face.

"This is a nightmare."

But the decision was made.

With their new roles assigned, they turned back toward the dungeon tunnels, weapons ready.

The raid resumed.

The group advanced deeper into the dungeon, the cavern widening into a vast, stretching tunnel system.

And soon enough, another wave of lizardmen emerged from the darkness, larger and more savage than before.

Their scales gleamed under the dungeon's dim light, their sharp claws scraping against the stone floor as they prowled toward the adventurers.

Bel took one look at them and smirked under his mask.

Bigger meant stronger. Stronger meant more EXP. More EXP meant his.

Without hesitation, he lunged forward, leading the charge. His fists crashed against the first lizardman, sending it staggering back. Another swung at him, claws flashing, but he twisted mid-air, landing on its shoulder before kicking off toward another and twisting the neck on the one he was on.

His attacks weren't lethal in one strike, but he struck relentlessly, every slash, every blow leaving deep cuts, every impact spilling more blood.

The others joined in, but it quickly became clear that the battle was harder for them. Their weapons barely cut through the beasts' thick hides.

The warriors struggled to land effective blows unless they directly exploited the creatures' weak points.

Only the mages made a noticeable difference, their spells searing and freezing their foes.

Bel, on the other hand, simply tore through them.

A lizardman lunged at him with its teeth bared. He ducked, slamming his palm against its throat before twisting behind it, raking his fingers through its scaled flesh.

Another charged him from the side, but he sidestepped, gripping its tail and swinging it into another monster.

[Level Up]

[Level Up]

By the time the last beast collapsed, gasping its final breath, the system screen in Bel's vision glowed.

He checked his stats, his smirk widening.

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[Draconic Evolution System]

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Name: Belzerion

Title: Lindworm of the Scorching Abyss

Race: Dragon

Class: Lindworm

Level: 39

EXP: 17,400/50,000

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Core Stats:

HP: 900/900

MP: 320/320

Strength: 155

Toughness: 135

Intelligence: 105

Speed: 130

Agility: 125

Stamina: 140

Pressure: 40

Unassigned Stat Points: 40

-------------------------------------

Draconic Core: 37%

-------------------------------------

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.

40 free points, a melody for his ears.

"Let's put these to use," Bel muttered. He dumped 20 points into Intelligence, feeling the familiar rush of energy spread through his body and his mind becoming lighter.

They pushed forward until they reached a new chamber, one even larger than the last.

Stalagmites jutted from the ground like jagged teeth, and pools of murky water reflected the faint glow of magic pulsing through the cavern walls.

Then the ground rumbled.

Giant quadrupedal lizards emerged from the shadows, their thick, scaled bodies rippling with raw power.

Their massive fins stretched along their backs, and their slit-pupiled eyes glowed.

The warriors hesitated. Weapons alone wouldn't cut through those armored hides.

"Time for the mages to shine," the archer muttered.

The two tin-ranked mages stepped forward and cast their spells, small bursts of fire and ice flickering toward the creatures.

Their attacks barely scratched them, the flames sizzling harmlessly against their scales, the frost cracking away without real damage.

Then, with a single whispered chant, the elf mage moved.

A deep boom filled the cavern. A massive explosion erupted across one of the lizards, tearing through its body as if it were paper.

She barely moved, her spellbook floating in front of her as her fingers danced through the air, weaving magic faster than the eye could follow.

With a flick of her wrist, thick vines burst from the stone floor, wrapping around several lizards, holding them in place.

Another incantation, and a second explosion engulfed them in a burning inferno.

Then, her piercing gaze landed on Bel.

"Fighter mage," she called. "Move."

Bel glanced at her from across the battlefield, noticing the growing flames at her feet. He sighed, then smirked.

Ah. Right. I'm a mage.

He snapped his fingers.

A single spark flickered, streaking toward the nearest lizard and detonating into a sea of fire. Another snap, another explosion.

Fire bent unnaturally, weaving through the air like living serpents, latching onto their prey and devouring them whole.

The flames reflected in Bel's masked eyes as he stood in the inferno, his silhouette blending with the burning chaos.

The battle was over before the rest could even react.

Silence fell, save for the crackling flames. The others exchanged glances, barely believing what they had just seen.

"...I don't think... this is iron level," one of the mage mumbled.

The healer nodded, her eyes wide.

"Yes... Don't tell me I'm weak, because I'm definitely not the one in the wrong place."

Most of them stood in awe, while like Garrik watched with narrowed eyes.

Regardless, one fact was undeniable.

Bel had completely stolen the show.