WorldCrafter - Building My Underground Kingdom-Chapter 137: Final Attack

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BOOOOOM!

The impact was apocalyptic.

The wall shattered into dust, the blast wave flattening the surrounding terrain. Flames erupted in all directions, carving glowing lines into the cavern floor.

The dragon's body recoiled, two of its heads thrown violently to the side, stone faces cracked and burning. From the center of its chest—a hole. A smoldering cavity where the shovel had struck dead-on, the violet flame still eating away at the fused earth.

Earth let out a painful roar.

And Draeven?

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He was already mid-leap, eyes locked on the burning wound, hand outstretched to catch the returning shovel as it boomeranged back through the air like a falling star.

The Earth Dragon staggered, its six heads thrashing in agony as the purple fire spread like a curse.

The hole in its chest widened, and deep inside, Earth could feel it—his core, the relic buried within him, was resisting the flame's corrosion, but only barely.

The two powers clashed inside him like warring storms, shaking his massive body to the core.

Stone cracked. Joints split. The mana threads holding his colossal form together frayed with every second.

Earth panicked. He couldn't win like this. Not against that flame. Not against him.

So he made a choice. Earth shifted his consciousness. his core mind into one of the dragon heads.

Then—CRACK!

One of the dragon's necks snapped cleanly as if cut by an invisible blade. The head fell. And with it, Earth's mind, escaped.

The broken head plummeted, striking the ground with a thunderous crash. Shattered stone exploded outward.

The dragon body twitched… then stilled. The purple fire consumed the husk, turning the once-mighty form into crumbling, lifeless rubble.

But Draeven didn't relax. He narrowed his eyes. The shovel spun back into his grasp, still glowing faintly, though the purple fire had dulled.

His eyes locked onto the fallen head. "…Clever bastard."

The head twitched. Then began sinking.

Draeven bolted forward, no flames, no fancy tricks—just raw strength. The head had barely sunk its jaw into the dirt when a massive THUD cracked the stone beside it.

Draeven had landed like a meteor, shovel in hand, slamming down to halt its escape.

Earth burst from the ground just behind him, stone now forming a humanoid shape—a towering brute of mud and boulder, with only a single horned dragon head where the chest should be.

He move forward.

Draeven spun.

CRACK!

Shovel met claw.

The shockwave shattered the ground. Both skidded backward, carving trenches into the cavern floor.

Draeven grinned, baring his teeth. "No more running."

Earth didn't respond—his breath came in rumbling bursts, his limbs flickering as the relic power strained to hold him together.

But he charged again.

Stone fists flew—huge, hammering blows like falling mountains. Draeven dodged the first, deflected the second, and took the third head-on, his body slamming back against a stalagmite with a grunt.

Then he launched himself forward with a feral roar, molten light bursting from beneath his feet. Victory was already his—he knew it, but Draeven wasn't the kind of warrior to accept an easy win.

Not like this. Not when his enemy couldn't even fight back properly.

His purple flame had rendered Earth's greatest weapon utterly useless. And still, Draeven charged.

Because for an Ashborn warrior, dominance wasn't enough. He wanted to prove it.

He wanted Earth to feel the hopelessness. To know that no matter how hard he fought, he will not win.

The two clashed—again and again—flesh against stone, shovel against claw. Each impact echoed like thunder in the hollow depths, the ground fracturing beneath their feet.

Sparks burst from the collisions, raining like shooting stars across the cavern ceiling.

Draeven ducked under a sweeping hook, the stone claw cutting through the air with bone-shattering force.

He twisted low, flames surging around his legs as he rocketed to the side. Earth turned to follow, but Draeven was already there.

SHUNK!

The shovel's edge punched into Earth's flank with enough force to make the giant stagger. Stone cracked and splintered.

Draeven didn't stop—he ripped the weapon free and spun low, sweeping Earth's legs with a kick.

The beast fell.

The impact sent tremors radiating in all directions, fissures spiderwebbing beneath the weight of his collapse.

Earth tried to rise, driving his arms down for leverage, but Draeven was already atop him.

BAM!

The first shovel strike landed on his shoulder, caving the rock inward.

BAM!

The second struck Earth's arm, fracturing it clean down the middle.

BAM!

The third slammed directly into the dragon-like head, grinding it against the cavern floor, sending chips of iron like armor flying in all directions.

"Any last words?" Draeven growled, breath hot and ragged, the shovel raised high above his head.

Earth's head twitched. His cracked mouth opened slightly, trying to speak. But only dust spilled out.

Draeven's eyes narrowed. "Didn't think so."

He gritted his teeth and roared, all the power he'd built up exploding through his arms as he brought the shovel down.

CRACK—BOOM!

The ground erupted with a seismic shock as the weapon split Earth's head in half.

Mana discharged in a blinding flash. The relic core buried inside screamed as its connection severed—and then the entire stone body collapsed, shattering like a broken statue.

Draeven staggered back, chest rising and falling with every breath. His skin steamed, his muscles trembled, but his grin never faded.

Around him, chunks of Earth's body lay scattered, still smoking from the raw strength he'd unleashed.

"Finally he dies," he muttered, the shovel resting against his shoulder.

But then—his grin froze.

A faint rumble pulsed beneath his feet. The scattered stone chunks twitched… then moved.

Light flared from the fragments as mana surged wildly. Draeven's eyes snapped downward just as sharp tendrils of stone burst from the ground, coiling around his legs.

"What the—!"

More tendrils shot up, snaring his arms, his torso—binding him in place.

A low, guttural sound echoed from the rubble, like the final breath of a beast. Earth's shattered pieces were moving on their own, gathering at one spot.