Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 467: Dark Day (6)

Dragon Raja 3

But the dragon-shaped corpse stood firm in the waves, attacking with its wing bones and tail vertebrae. Anjou’s strikes merely sparked against the giant tail vertebrae.

It was time to end this futile back-and-forth. Anjou suddenly retreated, planting Greed into the ground and raising only Wrath in his hand. Wrath was a Zanbato—a horse-slaying sword. Astonishingly, he held it with only one hand!

He slowly slid the massive blade into its sheath—a sheath that didn’t physically exist, but one he envisioned, resting at his left hip. Standing firmly in the midst of the violent storm, he lowered his head to gaze at the sword’s hilt, returning to a state of absolute stillness.

Sensing the murderous intent radiating from its opponent, the dragon-shaped corpse retracted its long tail and also froze in place.

“Ah, Agá, it’s a shame I couldn’t show you the fastest Iaido strike in the world,” Anjou whispered softly.

He gradually shifted his stance, as Wrath hummed with a long, resonant sound. An invisible field began to expand—not Anjou’s own, but the sword’s. This Zanbato was a product of alchemy, a dragon-slaying holy relic infused with life… it was more than just a weapon, it was alive!

The sword’s appearance began to change. The blade, as if melting, extended from its original length of just over a meter to a staggering six or seven meters, its surface radiating a blinding brilliance. The once-smooth edge transformed into a serrated one, resembling countless dragon teeth protruding from the blade.

It had awakened! Or rather, this was its true form, sensing Anjou’s bloodline and breaking free from its own restraints. With such an elongated blade, it could cleave through the massive dragon’s body and pierce its central nervous system.

Not even Lu Mingze had managed to unlock Wrath’s full form.

Waves crashed against the platform below as Anjou stood with his back to the lighthouse, the dragon-shaped corpse looming above him, its porcelain-like eyes emitting golden light. The creature slowly withdrew, inhaling a massive volume of seawater. Its decayed cells reactivated, muscles swelled between its bones, and bulging veins surfaced under its skin. The mummified remains turned back into the living dragon it once was, although it still bore skeletal wings and a barren tailbone. Through its open chest, its enormous heart could be seen beating. Its body now held the signs of both life and death. The alchemically sealed life within had finally broken free, blooming like a deadly flower. Once more, it stood as a true dragon, its fighting spirit reignited.

The dragon spread its wings and roared toward the heavens, embodying the fury of an ancient beast, then charged directly at Anjou.

With just its whale-sized body, it could easily demolish the platform, but Anjou charged forward simultaneously. This old man, wielding a massive sword seemingly heavier than himself, leaped high into the air!

Observe! Inhale! Kirikuchi-no-Kiri! Draw! Strike!

The sword vanished mid-swing due to its incredible speed, leaving only a hazy golden glow. The ultimate Iaido strike, once performed by Inuyama Katsu, was now perfectly recreated by Anjou—only this time, it was a hundred times more powerful. When Inuyama had executed this technique, it carried an air of solitude, like a poetic cut through time, slicing a swan or the gentle arc of a girl’s brow. But when Anjou unleashed it, it was majestic, evoking mountains and seas. Standing on the edge of the platform, he swung the mountain-heavy blade like a tidal wave of light.

Though surrounded by corpse soldiers, neither Caesar nor Chu Zihang could stop themselves from turning to look at Anjou’s assault on the dragon-shaped corpse, a beast a hundred times his size.

The essence of Iaido is to release all one’s energy in a single moment of drawing the blade—victory or defeat is decided in just one strike. The dragon-shaped corpse collided with the platform’s edge, sending towering waves into the air. Anjou’s strike cleaved the white wall of water in two, the blade’s light striking the dragon’s facial bones. The dragon reared back in shock. Given the disparity in their sizes, this should have been impossible, but Anjou couldn’t have done it alone—it was Wrath that made it possible. The sword’s slash, in its final stage, transformed into a formless dragon. It was a battle between two dragons. The moment Wrath’s field collided with the dragon-shaped corpse, an inexplicable explosion occurred. A transparent shockwave radiated outward, causing pressure no less intense than the dragon’s own impact.

The dragon-shaped corpse collapsed onto the platform, though its body still stood in the seawater. Anjou leaped from the platform’s edge, landing on the dragon’s neck—compared to him, even the world’s highest jump was but a clumsy bear’s hop.

Anjou landed on the dragon’s neck. By now, he was no longer human, but rather a ferocious beast. His body was covered in gray-green scales, bone spikes protruded from his skin, and his face looked like it was masked in bronze.

“Triple-stage… Blood Rage!” Chu Zihang exclaimed in shock.

Anjou’s Blood Rage had jumped directly to the third stage. His dragon blood instantly overwhelmed him, elevating him to a level where he could battle a pure-blood dragon. Chu Zihang should have realized this earlier—he had found the secret of Blood Rage in the old files of the Lionheart Society. The pioneers of the Secret Party had developed this technique, and Anjou was the last of those young men who had founded a new era. No wonder Anjou had always kept silent about the abnormality in his own bloodline—he was one of them!

Wrath pierced through the dragon’s neck, precisely severing its spinal cord. Anjou gripped the hilt with both hands and ran along the dragon’s spine, shattering its vertebrae one by one. Black blood sprayed into the sky behind him, forming a curtain of darkness. If Lu Mingfei had seen this scene, he would have been shocked to realize that Anjou’s method of slaying the dragon was nearly identical to Lu Mingze’s—targeting the dragon’s nervous system and using a weapon to destroy its spine. In that moment, Anjou’s figure overlapped with the boy who had leaped onto Fenrir’s back—their roars were identical.

With its nervous system destroyed, the dragon-shaped corpse could no longer support its enormous body. It was about to crash into the sea, but its powerful front claws latched onto the crumbling platform, keeping its weight suspended at the edge. Seawater surged over its massive frame as Anjou found the dragon’s second brain near the base of its spine, hidden like a giant spider beneath the vertebrae. Large nerve fibers extended in all directions, controlling the lower half of its body. Anjou yanked Wrath from the dragon’s neck and plunged it into the beast’s lumbar spine, then stomped on the hilt. Transparent spinal fluid sprayed out.

“That old man is absolutely insane!” Caesar muttered, wide-eyed.

He had originally thought Anjou had given up. In the movies, it always goes like this: the old man, speaking with calm resolve, tells the young ones to leave first, promising to catch up soon, while secretly intending to sacrifice himself to buy them time. But the rules of cinema didn’t apply to Anjou. He had stayed behind to face the dragon because he really intended to kill it! This crazy old man who would fight Buddha or ancestors alike wasn’t the type for tragic heroics. When he said he’d catch up, he probably meant it.

“How much longer?” Caesar yelled.

“The initiation sequence is input, testing is in progress. Three minutes left! No, two and a half!” Chu Zihang shouted back.

Anjou’s hands had transformed into sharp claws. Using them, he clawed his way up the dragon’s body, step by step, toward his final target—the dragon’s brain.

The dragon-shaped corpse was also making its last desperate efforts. It had lost control of its lower body, moving like a paralyzed patient below the waist. Only its powerful forelimbs could still function, and it was fiercely dragging itself up the platform. The final battle had become a climbing race: if the dragon reached the platform first, it could pounce on Anjou; if Anjou reached the top of the dragon’s head first, it would be helpless against him. But Anjou’s ascent wasn’t easy either. The third-stage Blood Rage had greatly enhanced his physical strength, but the blow that severed the dragon’s spine had exhausted much of his energy. He dared not extract more power from his bloodline—the fabled fourth-stage Blood Rage was only theoretical and would plunge him into the abyss of a Death Servitor.

The dragon-shaped corpse thrashed about, trying to shake Anjou off. Below them was the surging, stormy sea. Anjou plunged Wrath into the dragon’s body, gripping the hilt and clinging tightly to its spine.

In this situation, the dragon had the upper hand. Although its body was severely injured, its strong forelimbs gave it a significant speed advantage. Its massive claws finally grabbed hold of the lighthouse’s base, and with one more effort, the dragon would be able to pull its entire body onto the platform. The outcome was becoming clear. For the first time, a shadow crossed Anjou’s face, but he immediately roared again, yanking Wrath free and leaping upward, throwing the weapon toward the dragon’s head.

Even knowing it wouldn’t change the result, he refused to give up. He was that stubborn—a man who, as Koeru had called him, was a “bastard.” And Anjou hadn’t argued.

Losing his footing, Anjou plummeted toward the black sea, but in his final moment, he twisted to watch the path of the flying Wrath.

Wrath struck the dragon’s head, but without Anjou controlling it, it was just a sharp metal weapon. It created a brilliant shower of sparks upon impact but couldn’t penetrate the skull. Instead, it ricocheted into the black night sky.

Finally, Anjou considered surrender. The thought flickered through his mind for the first time in his life.