As Akira's words lingered in the air, Velgrynd and Velzard stood beside him, utterly indifferent. Each seemed to exist in their own world. Velgrynd, whose veins thrummed with the overwhelming power of a True Dragon, regarded Guy Crimson with a gaze of profound apathy—as if his strength were trivial to her. She showed no tension or caution, her face cold as stone, as though this confrontation held no stakes for her.
As for Velzard, the embodiment of lethal coldness in its most sublime form, even the air around her seemed to recoil, as if unable to endure the weight of a True Dragon's might. She stood motionless, her eyes fixed on the three creatures before them, yet she appeared to grant them no attention. To her, their power—however great—was nothing compared to her own.
"Guy Crimson…" Velgrynd murmured tonelessly, idly twirling a strand of her silver hair, "Even if you've honed your strength since the dawn of history, it remains far from comparable to a True Dragon's power."
"You dwell in your own world, Guy," added Velzard, her eyes scanning the surroundings as if they bored her. "Compared to you, we are eternal beings. And even so, I've long ceased to care for battles against those beneath us."
At that moment, Guy Crimson realized their words hinted at something deeper than he'd assumed. Akira and his companions were no ordinary warriors—they were entities far beyond him. He could almost hear the whispers of the universe around him, as though a colossal power had erupted in the air, bending the very horizon before them.
Guy Crimson smiled thinly, yet betrayed no anxiety. Though he couldn't reach their level, something stirred within him. The battle ahead was inevitable in his mind, but now he knew: even if he challenged one of them, the fight would be far more complex than he'd imagined.
"In the end, everything can change in an instant," Guy said, his enigmatic smile lingering. "But I doubt this battle will be dull."
As the words hung in the air, Akira noticed something peculiar about Guy. Despite his imposing aura and immense magical power, something felt… missing. His strength might pale before a True Dragon's, but that wasn't what caught Akira's attention.
"You don't possess a Unique Skill, do you?" Akira said calmly, as if uncovering a great secret. "Not even an Ultimate Skill."
Guy's crimson eyes glowed like smoldering embers, but he seemed unshaken. If anything, Akira's observation didn't surprise him. Nothing in those words could unsettle him.
"…Oh? He noticed. Sharp-eyed—or perhaps he knows me better than he lets on. 'I don't rely on Skills'? Correct. But is that weakness? No. My power is me… raw, unadorned. They have Gifts. I forged myself from nothingness, from the first moment of existence."
Guy's smile was quiet yet layered with ambiguity, as if his answer held complexities beyond the surface. "Unique Skill? Ultimate Skill?" His voice rumbled, the words themselves strange on his tongue. "I've no need for such things. The power I wield is enough."
Yet there was a hitch in his voice—something Akira hadn't initially grasped. He sensed it now: Guy was hiding more than he admitted.
Guy pointed to himself. "I was born at history's dawn, tempered by countless battles. True strength isn't in Skills. It's in refining the self… in enduring."
But these words didn't convince Akira or the others. It was clear: Guy's power came from relentless combat and raw magical might, not Skills.
Meanwhile, Velgrynd and Velzard remained indifferent, seeing Guy only as an ancient warrior with a legacy of battles—nothing more. Their innate abilities, like the power of True Dragons, transcended anything an ordinary being could achieve.
"You're merely an old soldier, Guy," Velgrynd said coldly, her eyes dissecting him. "No amount of experience makes you a true threat to us. We… are something else entirely."
Velzard, her gaze dismissive, added with icy precision: "Your strength may be vast, but it lacks reality. Mere battle prowess means nothing before us."
Though Velzard's words seemed harsh—even arrogant—they were undeniably true. It was common knowledge: one without an Ultimate Skill could never harm one who possessed it. These were not mere abilities, but control over concepts themselves. Without equivalent power to govern a concept, injury was impossible.
Of course, exceptions existed. Merely having an Ultimate Skill didn't guarantee mastery—understanding the concept it embodied was key, or even weaker foes could prevail.
But this exception didn't apply to True Dragons. They were concepts incarnate from birth.
The air froze abruptly, as if the True Dragons' power had overwhelmed reality itself. Without a trace of caution or fear, all present knew: the coming battle would be a clash of fundamentally different ideals of power.
...
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I've been too sick to move, but I've uploaded two chapters to make up for it.