Return Of The Strongest Player

"A fake!"

Arthur's words of mockery caused a deathly silence to descend upon the Arena, in which even the sound of a heartbeat was as loud as the engine of a Dragon's roar. A wide smile hung on the crimson-eyed man's lips.

Bob's expression of rage devolved into the bashfulness of a young girl. A scarlet glow appeared on his cheeks, but that was only the beginning of it.

"I'm not a Fake!" Bob roared, his mere soundwaves causing unparalleled, raw lightning to descend. Despite his rather unsightly appearance, Bob still maintained the Noble air of a Dragon.

His pride was equivalent to that of the superior species, no doubt.

But was the blood running in the veins of the Dragons?

'No, it isn't,' Arthur concluded, retracting [Divine Sense]. The sensory ability allowed Arthur to peek into what Bob's body was composed of. The scales covering his body like armor were not true Dragon Scales.

Arthur wasn't aware of a Brown Dragon Species, but initially, he simply expected him to be from some long-lost tribe. However, as he continued to battle the former old man, Arthur began realizing the differences.

Difference of intensity in Draconic Pressure, being unable to extinguish one's own Dragon Breath, unable to maintain one's emotions, despite not being of the Flame Tribe.

They were all indications.

"That's what a Fake would say," Arthur feigned a giggle as if it were the funniest thing he'd ever witnessed. Bob's expression grew distorted, his pride wounded and his arrogance surging at that moment.

"You dare question a Dragon?" 

Bob's Draconic Authority thickened along with the rise of his anger, yet Arthur was only somewhat affected, able to maintain his ground even under the pressure. Despite being somewhat strained by the Authority, Arthur maintained a casual expression so as to lead Bob to believe he was weak.

Although the basic tactics of Sun Tzu reveal it is best to mask one's power before striking when one least expects it, Arthur knew it was not best to take that route when facing a Pseudo-Dragon drunk on his pride.

Excessive pride ate people.

Excessive arrogance ruined people.

But they were also the constructs of a Dragon's personality.

But what if one shattered them both?

Would one fall from grace?

'It's not like he's achieved grace, anyway,' Arthur spat. Bob–at that moment–twirled around, thrashing his tail towards the crimson-eyed man. Arthur focused on his Celestial Wings, wrapping them around his body like a present.

Purple-golden thunder embraced Arthur's body, shielding him from external interference.

As Bob's scaly tail collided with Arthur's Celestial Wings, a deafening noise of the collision emerged. The latter was flung to the ground at a speed surpassing the speed of sound. Only after a second of impact did the sound register.

Arthur quickly wiped the blood dripping from his lips using his thumb, forming a rather casual expression yet again.

"Is that all a Fake Dragon can do?" He asked, mocking Bob every chance he received.

At that moment, tendrils of dark-brown energy brewed at Bob's maw. Arthur displayed glee, quickly raising Skofnung in the air. 'Yes, do whatever special move or transformation you need to do.'

'In the meantime…'

Miasma escaped Skofnung's blade, following a deafening and rather creepy shriek. The miasma condensed, assuming the shape of a humanoid.

It was a rather lanky man, his skin pale as a sheet of paper, and a stark black suit hugging his body tightly. The man reminded Arthur of a certain demon that used to accompany a cyan-colored slime.

His dark hair was fringed, with a few streaks of crimson. He held himself with pride, donning a rather charming–devilishly so–smile.

"Human," the devil said with a wretched smile, his eyes displaying its maniacal personality and sadistic nature. His eyes were like jade, with a precious, emerald glint and a mysterious, dark sclera.

"Devil," Arthur responded, sneaking a glance at the enraged Bob. "We don't have much time on our hands. I want you to join me."

Silence descended upon the Arena.

Suddenly, the Devil began laughing, tears welling up in his eyes. "Joining a human? Do I look like a simpleton to you?"

"I'm afraid you have no choice," Arthur replied, grinning widely with a smile that surpassed the Devil's in terms of creepiness. "You see that Dr–Fake Dragon? He's charging up for an attack that could blow both of us to smithereens."

"Really, now?" The Devil asked rhetorically, unbelieving and unconvinced of Arthur's barely persuasive words. However, as he inspected the sheer energy condensed into what seemed like a sphere, he grimaced. "That…"

But how could an insidious Devil succumb to the words of a mere human?

"Can we abandon our racial differences for a few minutes?" Arthur asked, growing more and more annoyed due to the Devil's obvious, childish thoughts. "You die if you don't help me. Do you even care about the fact that I'm a human, then?"

"You die, too."

"Do you think I care?"

Arthur pointed to himself while forming a mad grin. "Even if I did care, could I do anything? I would simply die without being able to resist. And now, so will you."

"Clever."

"What's your name?"

"Nihilus," said the Devil in the suit, bowing in the courtesy. "I realize we will be working together this fine evening. Do I get anything out of it, or do I simply get to kill you after we're done? Human blood is not my thing, to be honest."

"Who said anything about human blood? I'll pay you with as much Devil Blood as you want."

"Oooh."

Nihilus' eyes glittered at the mention of Devil Blood, his palms clasping and unclasping as he attempted to contain his excitement. Devil Blood was a delicacy for other Devils, as it allowed them to raise their power.

Devil Blood originated from a single source in Hell, which allowed Devils to grow stronger as they consumed it, especially from those of a higher lineage.

Nihilus couldn't help but squeal at the opportunity of consuming Devil Blood.