The Dragon King made a swift judgment. Direct combat was suicide. With those eyes—those damnable, piercing eyes of hers—Rebecca was an invincible wall in close quarters. She could read movement, intent, even the rhythm of his mana. There was no winning that exchange.
So he chose what dragons knew best: overwhelming force.
"Freeze!" he bellowed in ancient dragon tongue, his voice echoing like a divine command.
Time seemed to pause.
Rebecca stopped in her tracks, her limbs locked in place, her breathing shallow, her gaze distant. To any observer, she looked ensnared—frozen by the binding authority of draconic language.
A victorious grin split across the Dragon King's face. Flames coiled around his arm like hungry serpents as he lunged forward. With a fist wreathed in inferno, he aimed straight for her sternum, planning to end it in a single, decisive blow.
But just as his blazing knuckles closed in—Rebecca smiled.
