Dyon’s fist flew forward, smashing in King Viserion’s before his foot flashed upward, barely missing the green scaled chin he aimed for.
King Viserion took advantage of the partial block Dyon’s standing split caused in his vision, hooking toward Dyon’s blind spot. However, how could Dyon not be prepared for such a thing? Since his youth, his father had trained him in mixed martial arts, especially hand to hand combat. Such were the woes of growing up with a military general for a father.
His foot pivoted, not lowering his raised leg and instead using a physics defying momentum to narrowly dodge the incoming fist.
His raised leg slammed downward, tearing through the sound barrier only to still narrowly miss the crown of King Viserion’s head. But, unfortunately for his green-scaled friend, his leg combinations weren’t finish quite yet.
With ungodly speed, Dyon’s foot slammed into the ground, causing King Viserion to lose his footing. The power was so violent, yet so controlled that the ground beneath Dyon’s feet was completely unaffected, allowing his other foot to flash forward, crashing into the side of King Viserion’s head without remorse.
King Viserion’s hand rebounded off the shattered ground before his head hit, using that very moment to send a flurry of kicks as though he was never hit at all.
Dyon’s knee jumped upward, blocking the kicks and flashing out of range.
Their battle descended into chaos once again. Neither seemed to ever react when the took solid blows, if one couldn’t feel the earth-shattering vibrations, they might be fooled into thinking they were two stuntmen instead of warriors embroiled in a fight to what seemed like the death.
None of these small details escaped King Viserion’s eyes. The arrogance that was so clear and present in his former friend right now, was the same arrogance that King Viserion had been missing all this time. It was the same arrogance that led to their promise of storming through the cosmos. It was the same arrogance that led this former friend to be the first man of his generation that this King ever respected.
But, with those thoughts, the same bitterness resurfaced. He could still remember when he learned that his friend had bowed to the Moon Clan. He could remember the anger he felt, the feelings of betrayal and loneliness that pervaded his life for the last thirty years.
The more King Viserion thought about it, the stronger his attacks became… The more hate filled and violent… The more unabashed killing intent coated his fists.
King Viserion grew to another size, causing bat-like wings to tear from his back in a shower of golden blood. He roared into the skies, breaking through to a new level.
The claws on his hands and feet became more pronounced, sheering through the air with every strike as though each was a knife of its own. His wings arced with vicious intent, spanning more than three meters.
The spectating elders couldn’t help but gasp, before clapping in excitement. They all knew that it was only a matter of time before their most highly lauded genius reached this level of integration with his ancestral bloodline. But hoping and actually seeing it come true were two completely different concepts. They couldn’t hide their elation at all.
The personal guard who came with Dyon, who had just been trying to keep up with the battle to the best of their abilities all while praising their King for being so powerful, were more or less confused by the sudden reaction of the Viserions. However, the two dao formation elders couldn’t help but frown, allowing their brows to furrow in unconcealed worry.
King Viserion’s attacks beat Dyon back. Dyon frowned as he suddenly noticed the bones in his arms were quaking under the pressure of the strikes. He was forced to immediately switch to a more defensive approach, neutralizing King Viserion’s strikes by evenly distributing his weight and pulling back an almost imperceptible amount during each attack.
However, with King Viserion’s instincts, how could he not notice such a thing? He immediately used Dyon’s tactics against him, pressing forward and taking the initiative. In an instant, it was as though Dyon had no opportunity or window to attack at all. While the damage was at a minimum, Dyon had lost one of the most important keys to victory!
Having heard the loud noises, and considering the commotion that Dyon had caused when he first arrived. Many of the Viserion branch clan citizens had made their way over to spectate. Many of them even stood on the tops of buildings and houses just to get a better view. When they caught the bold wings of their King, many of them felt endless reverence deep within their hearts, unable to tear their eyes away.
As Viserions, each and every one of them were taught from youth the legends of their people. After all, how could the story of a clan capable of fusing the bloodlines of a human and dragon together be simple? Their stories were never bereft of sky toppling heroes and world-shaking heroines. However, as with all legends, some were embellishments while very few were true to the core. Such was the way of history. The losers were erased while the victors wrote the story.
That said, there was one legend playing out in front of them right this moment.