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Stop Calling Me "Mate"! I Only Defeated You Once, Not Married You! (Web Novel) - Volume 8, Chapter 90: Correct Your Understanding of the Strongest
Volume 8, Chapter 90: Correct Your Understanding of the Strongest
This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl
Orion slowly opened her eyes. The burning pain in her arm snapped her fully awake.All she could see were silver scales and a pair of vast dragon wings.
“What is... this?”
Peering ahead, Orion found that the silver giant dragon was facing off against the Old City Lord and roughly two hundred ancient peril-forms.
On the ground, a lone man with a long blade stood by himself, facing down the Old City Lord.
“Th-that’s?!”
“An accident.”
A familiar yet exhausted voice came from beside her.
Orion followed the sound, and her eyes widened a little. “Constantine...”
“Anything can have accidents, Orion. And right now... this ‘accident’ has arrived.”
...
“Leon... h-how is this even possible!”
The Old City Lord stared at the man before him, incredulous.
“I clearly teleported you to the far north. Even at the Silver Dragons’ speed, it should take at least two days to return. You... you...”
The old man was half incoherent.
No matter how he tried, he could not make himself believe the dragons could accomplish such a thing.
In just a few short hours, they had rushed back from so far away in the far north.
And...
The Old City Lord lifted his head. Hanging in the air was, sure enough, that familiar silver giant dragon.
“And you still managed to save Constantine and Orion on the way back... What kind of speed is this...”
...
Astonished, the Old City Lord had to admit the husband and wife were far stronger than he had imagined.
“Hey, old thing, I’m talking to you. Are you deaf?”
Leon spoke as he slowly lowered the Thundercloud Blade.
The tip of the blade kissed the ground. With Leon’s steps, his boots pressed over scorched earth burnt to cinders, the sound thick and dull like grit under iron.
A lithe, fast-moving ancient peril-form saw Leon closing in on the Old City Lord and rushed him at once.
The next second, a cold flash swept past, and the peril-form’s head thumped to the ground.
Leon flicked his blade to cast off the blood and fixed his gaze on the Old City Lord, who still hadn’t recovered his wits.
“You had Orion’s teacher killed. You colluded with the Void. You used ancient peril-forms to destroy most of the Red Flame Dragon Clan. You took countless lives. You even plan to destroy the Golden Helm so the sun will go out forever...”
He listed out the crimes one by one. His tone sounded calm, but beneath the surface a storm was heaving like waves on a black sea.
“I honestly don’t know, for the moment, just how I should kill you to make it count as the punishment you deserve.”
Leon stopped about a hundred meters from the Old City Lord.
By then, the Old City Lord had shaken off his shock. He stared fixedly and said:
“The fire-nodes under the island, then? Leon, I have a full two hundred ancient peril-forms here. Each one at least at Dragon King level. And you? What do you have? I’m guessing for you to make it back from the far-northern border, your dragon wife spent a great deal of power. Right now she’s barely holding herself aloft on what little strength she has left. In other words... the only one who can fight here is you, isn’t that right?”
The sight of Leon appearing here had startled him, yes, but once the surprise passed he could still coolly assess the situation at hand.
Leon listened without the slightest ripple of emotion—and didn’t even bother denying a word of it.
“Correct. To get back to the Red Flame Dragon Clan from the far-northern frontier, my wife has all but exhausted her magic. She can’t take part in what comes next. So, you’re right, old man. I’m the only one here...
who can keep fighting.”
At that, the Old City Lord gave a cold snort.
“Then I truly don’t understand how you can still be so unhurried, Leon Casmod. There’s no point repeating myself. Standing before you are two hundred ancient peril-forms. I know your strength. Beating Dragon Kings is routine for you. But have you faced two hundred Dragon Kings at once? If you plan to cut them down one by one, then I can guarantee this: before you die, it will be your blade that breaks on the peril-forms’ fangs. The one who runs out of strength first will be you. I...”
—
The blade tip bit into the ground. The rasp of metal on charred earth sliced off the Old City Lord’s blustering mid-sentence.
He swallowed the unspoken words and let his gaze slide up to Leon’s face.
Even after everything he had just said, Leon’s expression still had not changed at all.
The Old City Lord clenched his fist in secret. A bead of cold sweat slid down from his temple.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
“You make it sound so thorough you almost have me believing it.”
Leon gave a contemptuous smile and let his right hand slip from the Thundercloud Blade’s hilt.
“All right, then here’s a suggestion: I just won’t use a blade. Saves me breaking another one and getting scolded by my master.”
For all the confidence he had just projected in his own side’s strength, whenever his eyes met Leon’s—whenever he recalled Leon’s unruffled tone—everything he had just said started to sound like self-deception even to himself.
The old man fell silent, staring hard at Leon.
“Oh, right—you also said if I cut them down one by one, I’d be the one to run out of strength first.”
Leon folded his arms, as if pondering it.
“That’s not a bad suggestion either. In that case.”
He stepped forward, long leg crossing out, and slowly spread both hands. Wind and thunder gathered in his palms, condensing by degrees.
“I’ll finish every peril-form here with a single move.”
“W-what?!”
The Old City Lord could no longer believe his own ears.
“Y-you can’t be serious! Do you know what Constantine had to put himself through just to kill not even a hundred peril-forms? And now you’re spewing mad talk about killing them all in one strike?! Heh, Leon—anyone can bluff. I advise you to think carefully about your exit.”
Wind and thunder continued to coalesce in Leon’s hands as he paced toward the army of ancient peril-forms.
The disparity in numbers was obscene: a full two hundred ancient peril-forms, of every size and shape—three of them even Mountain Brutes.
And Leon’s figure before them looked thin as paper, as if a single poke could tear him apart.
But he was Leon.
“Old thing, the road behind me is wide open. The road behind you is a dead end.”
He planted himself where he stood, and the two hundred peril-forms charged him as one.
Leon dipped his shoulders and set his stance, spreading his steps to root himself, while the twin elements of wind and thunder ballooned between his hands.
“You people have ever really understood what ‘the strongest’ means. So today, I’ll give you a proper lesson!”
“I, Leon Casmod, am the strongest in this world—bar none.”
The words had barely fallen when all two hundred ancient peril-forms struck at once.
A black mass of hunting bodies blotted the sky, pelting down on him like rain.
Leon neither dodged nor flinched. He didn’t even show any sign of releasing the wind and thunder he had already gathered.
Instead, facing attacks from every direction, he merely stirred his magic—and in an instant a blue, scale-ribbed frame formed around him.
The frame fleshed itself out, building muscle and body, sealing Leon completely within.
At last, the upper body of a blue giant heaved up from the ground. It gripped twin blades, arcs of azure light and lightning crawling over it.
Peril-forms hurled themselves at the colossus one after another, but before they could touch the body, the crackling arcs around it blasted them to ash.
Lightning raged through darkness and screams, and in the blink of an eye the first dozens that had gotten close were annihilated.
At the same time, the remaining hundred-plus had finished charging their power and unleashed a tightly packed second wave.
Having stopped the close-in rush, Leon calmly dropped the blue giant’s protection.
He looked up into the deluge of magic beams. The glare stretched his shadow long, longer still.
Those beams were like a flood with its jaws open in a roar, ready to swallow him in an instant.
“Just going to stand there, stupidly? Hah... ‘the strongest’? Nothing but a stiff-necked dead duck!”
Watching Leon’s silhouette disappear into the light, the Old City Lord sneered.
“Turn to ash, Leon Casmod!!”
KRA-KROOM!
The next instant, a thunderbolt as thick as a house crashed down from the sky, striking straight through the clustered Mountain Brutes.
The Old City Lord jolted. “W-what... what is this? What happened...”
The Mountain Brutes’ bodies were enormous; peril-forms nearby couldn’t dodge and were crushed under the bulk.
Not dead, but pinned and unable to move.
Far off, Leon had already braced the cyclone of wind and thunder before him, shouldering the hundred-plus beams that could tear heaven and earth.
The Old City Lord’s eyes bulged red. He couldn’t make himself believe what he was seeing.
“You... you can walk forward against the attacks of over a hundred peril-forms...”
Up in the air, holding back from the fray, Orion was just as stunned.
“How is Mr. Leon... how is he doing this?! That level of energy impact wiped out everything for hundreds of kilometers in an instant just now... but he’s taking it head-on—and he’s forcing their barrage back...”
Her blue eyes trembled violently. It was her first time seeing Leon truly act; like the Old City Lord, she had not dared believe that the gentle, harmless-looking stay-at-home dad could erupt with such outrageous force in this moment.
“If this much already strains belief, then when he has a real volcanic eruption someday, you’ll run out of words to describe him,” Constantine said softly.
Orion turned a startled look on Constantine again.
“W-what do you mean, Constantine? Are you saying... this still isn’t Leon going all out?”
Constantine cast his gaze at the figure below and gave a short, rough laugh.
“Not even close.”
...
On the battlefield, with nothing but the cyclone of wind and thunder—and his body’s raw toughness—Leon shoved back the energy barrage of more than a hundred peril-forms.
Then the truly absurd scene unfolded:
The colossal beam formed from hundreds of fused lances of light stalled less than a meter from the nearest peril-form.
These ancient peril-forms, savage and feral a moment ago, felt fear the instant they truly witnessed Leon’s strength.
“It’s over, beasts.”
The words fell. Leon flung both arms wide, and wind and thunder burst from his hands, weaving through the herd again and again.
Where they passed, blood fountained and howls carpeted the field.
Wind and thunder laced and knotted—one technique that combined wide-area control, piercing force, binding, and erasure.
The hundred-plus peril-forms were penned as if inside a prison wrought of implacable wind, while rampant thunder hammered and wiped them out without pause.
Twinborn Magic · Wind–Thunder Scour
