The blood of the Time Dragon, something I hesitated to use until the very last moment. It was something the Time Dragon handed to me just as I was about to leave the Sacred Peak of Time.

That dragon, the one who governs time, cruelly and unequivocally stated, "As you are now, you cannot defeat the Shadow Dragon." At first, I was enraged by the certainty of those words, wanting to scoff at them and reject them outright. But in the end, the dragon's words were correct.

However, I—still a fool who had yet to fully grasp reality or even my own current position—suppressed my rising anger by shifting my thoughts immediately.

────If he said, "As you are now," that must mean there is some method by which even I can kill that damn lizard.

A shift in perspective... It would be too grand to call it that. To be honest, it was little more than wordplay, barely even beyond the realm of semantics. And yet, the dragon entertained my wordplay.

'If you combine the abilities you've inherited as a vampire species with my blood, you might—if you're lucky—just be able to defeat that fool.'

Squinting her eyes as if hesitating, the Time Dragon proposed a method—one that involved leveraging my inherited trait, a curse passed down through generations of the Bradley bloodline: Vampiric Impulse. By embracing this curse, I would acquire diverse and immense power, surpassing the Shadow Dragon.

Theoretically, this trait allowed me to absorb the blood of any lifeform, converting it into my own strength, granting me numerous magical and special abilities. It was an ability that could be considered outright cheating. However, it was nothing short of a pact with the devil—abandoning the ordinary and letting myself be consumed by abyss.

There was always a price to be paid, an equivalent exchange. That was a universal rule of the world. Those who succumbed even once to Vampiric Impulse would have their consciousness eroded and their personality begin to crumble from that moment onward.

The Time Dragon’s proposal completely disregarded the burden on my body and mind, the risk of being consumed by draconic forces, and all other dangers. It was such an inhumane suggestion that I couldn't help but be impressed—truly, a dragon through and through.

But at that time, and even now as I think back on it, there was no better option.

'Personally, I'd rather you not die because you were too weak. So, I'll offer you the best measures I can.'

As a result, I received blood from Weiss and the others, preparing myself for the battle against the Shadow Dragon. According to the Time Dragon, the blood of Heirs held a slight resistance against a dragon's power.

By this point, through the journey and the battles I had fought, I had already absorbed the blood of every Heir. I had made every preparation possible.

All that was left was to steel my resolve and throw myself into the embrace of draconic forces.

"Guh... ah... aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!?"

It was an unending, hellish torment.

The dragon's blood coursed violently inside me, making my body writhe and convulse as if being wrenched apart. Like a plug had been pulled, my magic power gushed out without end, draining me until I was empty.

'This is sheer madness!'

The dragon, who had stood before me moments ago, had retreated at some point, his expression twisted with an amused grimace. I had plenty of thoughts about his nonchalance even in this situation, but now was hardly the time.

"I... gah────!!!"

A sensation as if my entire physical structure—organs, blood vessels, nerves, even individual cells—was being forcibly reshaped in real-time. Every second, waves of shock and agony assaulted me, threatening to take my consciousness. But each time, the next wave of pain yanked me back into awareness.

"────!!"

Before I knew it, my vision was dyed in crimson. A moment later, I realized that it was a membrane formed from my own blood.

A cocoon.

Just like an infant organism undergoes metamorphosis within its cocoon, I too was enveloped in this blood cocoon, rapidly progressing through the process of transforming into a new being. The interior was completely submerged in blood, rendering breathing impossible. I struggled desperately, but at some point, the sensation of my own limbs vanished, leaving only my consciousness suspended in the void.

────So... suffocating...

The relentless agony that attacked me unconditionally, ignoring my will, was the price of accepting dragon’s blood. And at the end of this ordeal, I was now in the process of evolving—from human into dragon.

For weak and fragile creatures like humans, drinking the blood of a transcendent species that looked down upon the world was usually fatal. Ordinarily, it would take mere seconds for a human to perish upon consuming even a single drop of dragon's blood.

Legends and ancient records claimed that drinking dragon’s blood granted immortality and eternal life, leading countless fools to desperately seek it. But that was all nonsense.

In reality, a single sip was enough to kill any frail lifeform. Not even the luxury of writhing in pain would be granted. Dragon’s blood was a deadly poison to every living being.

And yet, now—Claym Bradley, despite being consumed by agony, was still alive. No, more than that—he was evolving from an inferior species into one that could stand alongside those who looked down upon the world.

Why?

Because the thick, potent Bradley blood that ran through his veins—the blood of an irregular, an anomaly from ancient times, the vampire species—was adapting to the dragon’s blood.

This was an impossible phenomenon. Even if the progenitor vampire species still existed today, drinking dragon’s blood would never produce such a result. The reasons behind this impossible reality were numerous, but the greatest factor was the power of the Heirs. The four companions’ blood flowing through him had made the impossible possible.

"Ugh... aah..."

How long had it been? How long had he suffered, tormented, and consumed?

And then—without a sound, the moment of emergence arrived.

Claym violently tore apart the blood cocoon he had created to protect himself from external threats. He realized that the arms and legs he thought had disintegrated had been reborn anew.

"URUUGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"

Like a beast—no, like a dragon—he roared.

Having sacrificed everything, Claym Bradley had adapted to the dragon's blood.

His sense of self, his emotions, his memories, his very humanity—his simple, once-happy life—he had cast it all away. He had discarded everything, abandoned everything, and devoted it all to this moment.

"Haa... haa... haa────!!"

His breathing was ragged, painful. His bodily functions felt distant, disconnected, making it difficult to control his own form. Magic surged infinitely within him, foreign and unfamiliar, brimming with an unprecedented power.

When he looked at his own reflection, what appeared was an entirely unrecognizable figure.

A deep crimson exoskeleton—dragon scales—covered his entire body. His arms had become razor-sharp talons, honed to deadly perfection. The dragon-slaying sword he had once wielded had fused with his right arm. To top it off, a pair of wings had sprouted from his back, and a tail extended from his lower spine, swaying ominously.

His body had not grown larger, yet it was no longer the same.

Claym Bradley had become a crimson dragon warrior.

That reality was fully understood by the shadow dragon who witnessed it firsthand. That was why it was overwhelmed with emotion, trembling with joy overflowing from the depths of its heart.

'Magnificent! Perfect! Astounding! Unbelievable! To think you had such a hidden trump card! And not only did you possess it, but you actually executed it! And succeeded at that!'

The shadow dragon raised its voice in praise, acknowledging the existence of a newly born dragon in this world.

'I must show my gratitude to the Time Seer for preparing such an astonishing surprise! Once this battle is over, I must pay my respects!'

It even began planning future visits in its mind, making it clear just how elated and exhilarated this dragon was.

────But so what?

"Kill────"

However, such sentiments were entirely irrelevant to it. The fool who had become a dragon responded in a crude, primitive manner, devoid of intelligence. And yet, its consciousness was paradoxically sharp, working with unexpected clarity.

Even after becoming a dragon, the fool was still driven by an irresistible vampiric impulse. A single moment of carelessness, and its self-awareness could vanish completely. It had already surpassed its limits—gradually, it was being consumed by abyss.

With magic etched into its body, allowing it to transcend time and space, the fool closed the distance to the shadow dragon in an instant. Then, with a speed sharp enough to pierce through vision itself, it lunged forward, merging its right arm with its sword.

'Ohhh…!!'

The strike, aimed directly at its throat, was effortlessly evaded. But the fool didn’t care. It simply hurled itself at the dragon before it, reckless and wild. The dragon-slaying sword, which it had once wielded with great care, had now become nothing more than an accessory. It moved on instinct, understanding reflexively that this had the highest probability of success. It had completely transformed into a dragon, raging uncontrollably.

'Yes! Yes! Your speed and strength are nothing like before! Magnificent… Magnificent, Claym Bradley!!'

The shadow dragon responded with gleeful excitement.

At last, it had found an opponent against whom it could go all out—a toy that wouldn’t break easily, no matter how violently it was battered. If it couldn’t find joy in this, then what could bring it happiness? The shadow dragon could think of nothing that would make it more ecstatic.

'Oops────！！！'

A furious exchange of high-speed strikes. They punched, were punched, gouged, were gouged—throwing themselves into this struggle with reckless abandon.

For any observer, tracking their movements was an impossible task. The sheer force of their battle was tearing apart the imperial castle, the city, the walls—everything was crumbling into rubble. Of course, that was to be expected. After all, in this place, there existed two transcendental beings capable of looking down upon and ruling over the world with ease. And yet, neither of them cared in the slightest. They fought only to satisfy their instincts, unleashing countless spells in a desperate bid to destroy the other.

Spatial rupture, gravitational shock, frozen tundra, brilliant radiance—numerous forbidden , each having reached their ultimate forms, bore down upon the shadow dragon.

"A, GAAAAAAAAGH!!"

'Kuhahahaha! How delightful! The closer death looms, the more extreme, excessive, and exhilarating the battle becomes! It makes me feel like I’m losing my mind with excitement!!'

The dragon repelled it all, overwhelming its adversary with the sheer force of its shadows.

The dragon was simply having fun. It wished for this moment to last forever. It wanted to keep throwing itself into battle against this powerful opponent. After all, this was a first for it. In all the eternity it had lived, it had never felt so fulfilled, so satisfied, so thrilled. No matter how hard it had tried, it had never truly felt alive. But now, for the first time, it did.

'Is “living” truly this enjoyable!?'

"Shut… Up!!!"

A crimson fist and a shadow-cloaked fist clashed head-on. At the same time, a violent eruption of magic power and shockwaves radiated outward, indiscriminately obliterating the surroundings.

────No breaks were needed. They could keep fighting for hours like this.

The shadow dragon, feeling abnormally exhilarated, was about to prepare its next attack—

'………Hm?'

—when, suddenly, its entire body felt off.

Its movements had clearly slowed. Its body groaned, screaming in agony as its joints began to crack and crumble. A clear sign that it could no longer endure the relentless blows, the monstrous exchange of sheer strength between it and the crimson dragon-human before it.

'Kuhaha! I might actually die for real this time!'

Acknowledging that fact, the shadow dragon fought on. From the very beginning, it had intended to fight until either it or the dragon-human before it was dead. Surely, that dragon-human must also be on the verge of destruction, unable to withstand the escalating intensity of battle—

"Your movements… are slowing down!!?"

—or so it thought.

'Agh────!?'

But that assumption was completely, utterly wrong.

The crimson dragon-human—Claym Bradley—was still standing. Though wounded, he had yet to reach his limit like the dragon had. Far from weakening, his momentum was only increasing.

'W-what!? How is there such a difference between us!?'

Shocked by the realization, the shadow dragon felt, for the first time, the emotion known as fear.

It made no sense. It had lived for hundreds, thousands of years, yet this newly ascended dragon was surpassing it? It couldn’t comprehend the reasoning behind it.

'────Ah, so this is what aging feels like…'

But as it hesitated, something within it understood. This absurdity was what made it feel alive—what drove it forward.

"Fall, you damn lizard!!!"

And with that, the crimson dragon-human brought this absurd, unreasonable, and futile battle to an end.

"The Crimson Flash of Dragon’s Demise, Bradley!!"

A crimson flash that erased all without exception. Sacrificing all his magic and blood, Claym Bradley unleashed an ultra-dense beam of light at the shadow dragon at point-blank range.

Before the fatal strike, the dragon made no attempts to resist. It did not scheme, did not struggle. It simply, straightforwardly, accepted death.

"Let’s play again!!"

As it perished in the crimson light, the dragon grinned from ear to ear. To that, the dragon-human responded with the last vestiges of his remaining self:

"There won’t… be a second time."

After all, you’re about to die.

He didn’t need to finish the words; the dragon understood. It relaxed its expression ever so slightly. And thus, one of the dragons that looked down upon the world perished, and the battle was decided.

'────GURUAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!'

The newly reborn crimson dragon let out a triumphant roar. It was a scream that signified the end of this selfish, meaningless battle.

And so, the self-awareness known as Claym Bradley was completely consumed by abyss.