"Whoosh—"
Dago let out a long breath.
He exhaled a scorching, heavy stream of air, white airflow shooting more than three feet away like a sharp arrow.
The breath directly whipped up a violent gale across the arena, sweeping shattered stones and dust from the ground.
The phantom of the Despair Winter Dragon behind him began to contract at that moment, its once enormous draconic body rapidly collapsing.
That inward convergence was not disappearance, but compression taken to the extreme.
It was as though it had completely transformed into a condensed yet unscattered shadow, clinging to Dago's spine and merging with him.
"You still have not made me bleed."
A low, hoarse voice came from Dago's mouth.
It no longer sounded like something human vocal cords could produce. It carried the growl of a beast and echoed across the empty platform.
He raised his head.
Fine blue veins covered his handsome face, making it appear savage and feral.
At some point, his eyes had turned completely white. Hollow and vacant, they swept over the three of them one by one.
At the very center of his pupils, a tiny glint of black light seemed to flash silently, like a gaze from the deepest depths of the abyss.
"Isn't it a little too early to urge surrender?"
With that said.
Dago spread his ten fingers. His nails turned sharp and black, like dragon claws.
An unfathomable rune emerged in each of his palms. The runes were ancient and intricate, as though they contained secrets from the dawn of the world.
Thick black light flowed from those runes, crawling up along his palms and devouring his original skin tone. It branded mysterious pitch-black patterns across him, intertwining with the bulging veins beneath his skin to form bizarre totems.
Moments later, when the