The Battlefield

As a ranged shooter, Sheva had raised his ranged throwing weapons to the maximum level, even though they weren't his primary weapon.

He held his breath and focused, aiming the unremarkable mistletoe stake at the Poison Dragon diving toward him at high speed.

Normally, even if the Poison Dragon flew close to the sea, its speed and strange, erratic movements would make it very difficult to hit. But the clever part was that the beast had deliberately set out to crash into the ice peak and kill Kirk. That made its flight path easy to predict.

Sheva had been building up his strength for a long time. A shooting star left his hand and flew toward the dragon!

One hidden property of the mistletoe was that, to gods and godlike beings, it seemed incredibly weak—essentially incapable of causing harm. Otherwise, how could Fricka the Queen of Gods, with her keen eye, have been fooled by its weak appearance, leading to her beloved son, Baldr the God of Light, being killed?

The Poison Dragon had a keen eye. It naturally sensed someone throwing a small wooden stake at it, but paid it no attention at all.

The mistletoe's apparent damage was only 1—not even enough to break through its defenses. The Poison Dragon had no reason to be wary. Its eyes were fixed on the ice peak looming ever larger before it!

The mistletoe lived up to expectations and struck the Poison Dragon in the chest.

But once it pierced the dragon's scales, it became like a bullet lodged in flesh, spinning at high speed and tearing through the dragon's chest!

The Poison Dragon was in agony!

It let out a shrill shriek!

Its organs, bones, and poisonous blood couldn't stop the mistletoe's sharp, piercing attack!

The mistletoe even had a