Chapter 2165: Chapter 2165

The one-eyed black dragon's wings were pressed tight against its sides, but Jenkins could see that one of them was only two-thirds of its original size; it seemed the creature had lost the ability to fly.

The black dragon was severely injured, but it was undoubtedly a genuine, pure-blooded black dragon—and definitely older than a young adult.

"What were the weaknesses of a black dragon again?"

He desperately wracked his brain. At the same time, the gasping dragon's single, yellowish-brown eye fixed on Jenkins.

The moment their eyes met, the space around them warped again. The essence of nature receded from this place, and the plants in the mire withered in droves, leaving only hideous, dead branches standing in the muddy water. The blood-red color of the water remained, now tainted with foul-smelling, brownish-yellow and blackish substances.

In an instant, the entire area seemed to "rot," leaving only Jenkins and the black dragon untouched.

"Perhaps the enemy is a master illusionist, and this dragon is merely a phantom," Jenkins mused, trying to calm his nerves. "After all, facing a black dragon is a bit over the top."

He spoke aloud, asking:

"You know what's happening, don't you?"

The black dragon spoke in Elvish, having clearly recognized Jenkins's heritage. The moment it spoke, Jenkins confirmed that it was a real, physical entity, not some illusion.

This was going to be troublesome. Even if the fiery red doorframe had judged the injured creature to be on par with the three-headed golem from before, a pure-blooded dragon's resistance to magic was terrifyingly high. Unlike the golem, it had no obvious weaknesses.

And while the sword in Jenkins's hand could pierce the dragon's tough hide, getting close enough to do so would be another matter entirely.

Man and dragon stared at each other. Jenkins held his breath; the black dragon did the same. As it did, its neck swelled slightly, as if a constantly expanding sphere were lodged in its throat.

Jenkins was all too familiar with the sight; he had witnessed it countless times in the history of Black Town's great dragon battles.

The next second, black flames erupted from the dragon's maw. A sea of fire swept from left to right as the beast turned its head.

Jenkins knew there was no dodging an attack of that scope, so he stood his ground and slashed forward with his sword. He didn't know if he had just become that powerful or if the black dragon was truly that grievously wounded, but the brilliant flash of his blade actually cleaved the torrent of black fire in two. It even grazed the dragon's head, adding another scar to its face.

Jenkins was surprised, and so was the dragon. They returned to their standoff, staring at each other once more. Jenkins planned to wait for an opening, but he had no idea what the dragon was thinking.

Fortunately, the dragon couldn't fly for now; otherwise, Jenkins wouldn't stand a chance in an aerial battle while sitting on a high stool. Seeing that the one-eyed dragon seemed intent on a battle of attrition, Jenkins decided not to wait any longer. He raised his sword and took a step forward.

"That sword of yours is too powerful! This isn't fair, half-elf! You're tarnishing the noble honor of the elves!"

the black dragon protested loudly.

"Sorry, but I'm no elf, and I've never lived among them."

Jenkins replied casually, his mind taut, ready for the dragon's counterattack. But the dragon did nothing of the sort. Instead, it asked:

"Hm? In your era, do the elves no longer recognize those of mixed blood?"

"No. In my era, there are no elves left in the material world."

He took another step forward. The black dragon's body twitched, but it still didn't counterattack, as if it had given up all resistance.

"No elves? What a boring world that must be."

"Not just elves. There are no dragons, either."

"Then what's left in the material world?"

it asked, as Jenkins advanced again.

With a sudden flick of his hand, the Air Bomb Ring on his finger detonated the air between him and the dragon. The gushing airflow and the intense pressure change from the explosion filled the surroundings with a watery mist.

Through the mist, Jenkins descended from above, gripping his sword with both hands and thrusting it toward the black dragon's skull.

The dragon unhurriedly tilted its neck back. The swelling in its throat moved up to its mouth as it opened its jaws wide, spewing scorching black dragonfire toward the sky. The intensity was clearly greater than its previous attack. It had been feigning weakness, trying to lure Jenkins closer.

But the sword in Jenkins's hand once again cleaved through the torrent of black flames. The greatcoat he wore protected him from the lingering effects of the dragonfire, and his sword, having pierced the flames, struck the dragon's head squarely.

The blade sank into the dragon's hide, and crimson blood sprayed out like a fountain, making Jenkins wonder if dragons had major arteries in their faces. Though it wasn't a fatal blow, he couldn't press the attack before the dragon's claw swatted him back to the ground like a fly. But the undead curse imbued in the sword, a curse against the living, was already taking effect at a visible rate.

In truth, Jenkins was weaker than the injured black dragon. The World Tree Seedling had only just begun to grow; he hadn't had the chance to delve deep into its natural power, and he was far from being able to summon lightning with a gesture or cause earthquakes with a stomp. His current advantage was purely due to the formidable weapon in his hands.

He recalled how Skryu Pompey had relied on the Skull Sword to escape from the Church's demigods and Jenkins himself time and time again—all thanks to the sword's power.

Knowing where his advantage lay, Jenkins abandoned the idea of a single killing blow. After landing that first successful strike on the dragon's head, he switched to a more cautious strategy, circling the beast and seizing every opportunity to inflict another wound, intensifying the undead curse.

The black dragon couldn't move—that was the most critical problem caused by its injuries. Its claws, breath, and even its magic were almost unaffected, but its immobility drastically reduced the threat it posed to Jenkins.

The black dragon, of course, had no idea about the origin of the sword in Jenkins's hand. But that didn't stop it from figuring out Jenkins's plan after receiving a few more cuts:

"You're despicable, half-elf!"

Even a pure-blooded black dragon couldn't withstand the cursing power of the White Bone Holy Sword.

Jenkins knew full well his tactics were despicable, which was precisely why he didn't deign to answer the black dragon.

"Without that weapon, you're nothing!"

the dragon continued to roar, trying to distract Jenkins, but he paid it no mind.

"One day, when you lose that weapon, you'll realize just how little power you have left without it!"

it continued, then once again sprayed a sea of black fire before it. Read complete versıon only at NoveIꜰire.net

It was only today that Jenkins learned the color "glossy black" truly existed. But the dragon's breath, which should have been his greatest challenge, was completely ineffective against him. Anettasia's breath might have been able to overwhelm him even if he were fully prepared, but this injured black dragon was clearly much weaker.

This prolonged, continuous battle allowed him to gradually unleash the power within him. It made the fight far more valuable than he had anticipated. Right after his World Tree began to grow, he had stumbled upon a Mysterious Realm that let him adapt to and use his power step-by-step. In that respect, Jenkins's luck was truly quite good.