Black sclera and a purple cornea—the unmistakable mark of an undead dragon.

  Every being was born with a single Innate Blessing, a power inherited through bloodline. Though one could obtain up to three additional Blessings through trials or sheer effort, no creature had ever possessed more than one Innate Blessing. That was an unbreakable law.

  Yet the dragon before me defied that law.

  Its oppressive aura thickened, a suffocating tide pressing against my lungs. The air crackled with distorted mana, warping reality itself. Behind it, black orbs pulsed, devouring raw energy and twisting it into something far worse.

  The first Innate Blessing, Hollow Eclipse, didn’t just sustain the dragon’s second—Pale Monarch—it amplified it, granting absolute dominion over lesser undead.

  This should have been impossible.

  And yet, here it stood.

  My fingers twitched as I reached into my storage space, brushing against the crisp parchment of my scrolls—my lifelines against overwhelming odds. Arcane scripts shimmered with latent energy. My thoughts raced.

  Escape? No. If I fled too soon, I’d lose any chance of claiming the Eternus Grimoire. But if I hesitated too long—

  The ground trembled—a faint quiver, then a violent jolt. One of the undead soldiers had activated its Vibration Blessing. A low, resonating hum filled the air, rattling my bones like a premature death knell.

  Then I saw it.

  A meteor tore through the sky—a blazing inferno that bathed the battlefield in crimson. Too fast. Too soon. I had seconds.

  Impact.

  A deafening roar. The world split open in a tidal wave of dust and shattered stone. Heat seared my skin. A phantom fist slammed into my ribs. My vision blurred. My ears rang—

  Move!

  I flicked my free hand through the air. The first scroll ignited—golden script unfurling midair, its luminescence pushing back the encroaching dark. Symbols blazed to life, one after another, a sequence burned into my mind. A breath. A blink. A single thought.

  The last rune ignited.

  And I vanished—500 meters away.

  I stumbled, the abrupt displacement twisting my senses, but I forced myself upright. My gaze snapped to the undead dragon.

  It was watching me.

  Not attacking. Not advancing.

  Just watching.

  I swallowed hard. That was concerning.

  Its glowing eyes gleamed—not with rage, but something far worse. Amusement.

  "What in the world?" I thought. "It’s enjoying this. While I’m struggling to stay alive?"

  The orbs behind it pulsed again. A subtle shift, but I felt it. No longer just sustaining its abilities—

  It was amplifying them.

  A slow chill curled down my spine. My grip tightened around the next scroll. My breath was ragged, my body screaming for reprieve. But there would be none.

  Because this battle had only just begun.

  The fight dragged on—a relentless war of attrition. The undead army swarmed in waves, each creature wielding its Blessing to whittle down my teleportation scrolls. But I didn’t just evade.

  I adapted.

  When I teleported, it wasn’t always to escape. Sometimes, I reappeared behind an undead soldier, twisting their magic back upon them. Corrupted mana bolts, icy spears, sonic bursts—I redirected every attack I could, turning their power into a weapon. Efficient. Precise. Ruthless.

  Still, the dragon’s strategy was clear: wear me down, force me to exhaust my scrolls. And it was working.

  I siphoned mana from the battlefield, stealing from the dragon’s vast reserves to sustain my spells. The stolen energy burned through my veins—raw, unstable—but it was the only way to keep fighting.

  Yet, despite my efforts, something was wrong. The battle had settled into a pattern—teleport, counter, steal mana, repeat. The cycle dulled my senses.

  And then it hit me.

  I was getting bored.

  A split-second lapse in focus nearly cost me. The dragon’s attack came faster than expected, a crushing force surging toward me. I barely dodged. Its kick obliterated the ruins behind me.

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  Too close. I gritted my teeth, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. I had to change the rhythm.

  I emptied my storage space.

  A thick fog laced with mana-disrupting properties exploded across the battlefield. The dragon’s smug look wavered. Its orbs pulsed erratically, their rhythm disturbed.

  For the first time, I had forced it to react.

  And it didn’t like that.

  "Who’s struggling now?" I mused, laughing internally.

  Its claws curled, irritation flickering across its undead features. It had been ordered to end the fight and retrieve the Eternus Grimoire. Frustrated or not, it complied.

  The dragon scanned the battlefield, directing its soldiers to pin me down.

  But I was already gone.

  How foolish of it to assume I would stay still and wait for my demise.

  Concealed behind a pillar, I eyed the Eternus Grimoire. It sat on its pedestal, ominous and probably cursed. My fingers brushed against the enchanted appearance-altering glasses I had nearly forgotten about.

  "Right. These exist."

  A plan formed. The undead dragon wouldn’t know who had stolen the Eternus Grimoire. It would search for me, not the unknown thief who vanished into the mist.

  I took out my remaining scrolls. Five teleportation scrolls. One mana-stealing scroll.

  The fog shifted, giving me the perfect cover. I siphoned mana from the nearby undead soldiers, draining them dry. One by one, they collapsed—motionless. I teleported the remaining four far away.

  The battlefield fell silent.

  rst Innate Blessing, Hollow Eclipse, didn’t just sustain the dragon’s second—Pale Monarch—it amplified it, granting absolute dominion over lesser undead.

  This should have been impossible.

  And yet, here it stood.

  My fingers twitched as I reached into my storage space, brushing against the crisp parchment of my scrolls—my lifelines against overwhelming odds. Arcane scripts shimmered with latent energy. My thoughts raced.

  Escape? No. If I fled too soon, I’d lose any chance of claiming the Eternus Grimoire. But if I hesitated too long—

  The ground trembled—a faint quiver, then a violent jolt. One of the undead soldiers had activated its Vibration Blessing. A low, resonating hum filled the air, rattling my bones like a premature death knell.

  Then I saw it.

  A meteor tore through the sky—a blazing inferno that bathed the battlefield in crimson. Too fast. Too soon. I had seconds.

  Impact.

  A deafening roar. The world split open in a tidal wave of dust and shattered stone. Heat seared my skin. A phantom fist slammed into my ribs. My vision blurred. My ears rang—

  Move!

  I flicked my free hand through the air. The first scroll ignited—golden script unfurling midair, its luminescence pushing back the encroaching dark. Symbols blazed to life, one after another, a sequence burned into my mind. A breath. A blink. A single thought.

  The last rune ignited.

  And I vanished—500 meters away.

  I stumbled, the abrupt displacement twisting my senses, but I forced myself upright. My gaze snapped to the undead dragon.

  It was watching me.

  Not attacking. Not advancing.

  Just watching.

  I swallowed hard. That was concerning.

  Its glowing eyes gleamed—not with rage, but something far worse. Amusement.

  "What in the world?" I thought. "It’s enjoying this. While I’m struggling to stay alive?"

  The orbs behind it pulsed again. A subtle shift, but I felt it. No longer just sustaining its abilities—

  It was amplifying them.

  A slow chill curled down my spine. My grip tightened around the next scroll. My breath was ragged, my body screaming for reprieve. But there would be none.

  Because this battle had only just begun.

  The fight dragged on—a relentless war of attrition. The undead army swarmed in waves, each creature wielding its Blessing to whittle down my teleportation scrolls. But I didn’t just evade.

  I adapted.

  When I teleported, it wasn’t always to escape. Sometimes, I reappeared behind an undead soldier, twisting their magic back upon them. Corrupted mana bolts, icy spears, sonic bursts—I redirected every attack I could, turning their power into a weapon. Efficient. Precise. Ruthless.

  Still, the dragon’s strategy was clear: wear me down, force me to exhaust my scrolls. And it was working.

  I siphoned mana from the battlefield, stealing from the dragon’s vast reserves to sustain my spells. The stolen energy burned through my veins—raw, unstable—but it was the only way to keep fighting.

  Yet, despite my efforts, something was wrong. The battle had settled into a pattern—teleport, counter, steal mana, repeat. The cycle dulled my senses.

  And then it hit me.

  I was getting bored.

  A split-second lapse in focus nearly cost me. The dragon’s attack came faster than expected, a crushing force surging toward me. I barely dodged. Its kick obliterated the ruins behind me.

  Too close. I gritted my teeth, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. I had to change the rhythm.

  I emptied my storage space.

  A thick fog laced with mana-disrupting properties exploded across the battlefield. The dragon’s smug look wavered. Its orbs pulsed erratically, their rhythm disturbed.

  For the first time, I had forced it to react.

  And it didn’t like that.

  "Who’s struggling now?" I mused, laughing internally.

  Its claws curled, irritation flickering across its undead features. It had been ordered to end the fight and retrieve the Eternus Grimoire. Frustrated or not, it complied.

  The dragon scanned the battlefield, directing its soldiers to pin me down.

  But I was already gone.

  How foolish of it to assume I would stay still and wait for my demise.

  Concealed behind a pillar, I eyed the Eternus Grimoire. It sat on its pedestal, ominous and probably cursed. My fingers brushed against the enchanted appearance-altering glasses I had nearly forgotten about.

  "Right. These exist."

  A plan formed. The undead dragon wouldn’t know who had stolen the Eternus Grimoire. It would search for me, not the unknown thief who vanished into the mist.

  I took out my remaining scrolls. Five teleportation scrolls. One mana-stealing scroll.

  The fog shifted, giving me the perfect cover. I siphoned mana from the nearby undead soldiers, draining them dry. One by one, they collapsed—motionless. I teleported the remaining four far away.

  The battlefield fell silent.

  Now, it was just me and the undead dragon.

  But plot armor favored the dragon far more than me, the author.

  The dragon’s orbs consumed the mana in the fog, replenishing its reserves.

  I scowled, frustration creeping into my voice.

  "Why the hell are you taking my mana? Don’t you already have a ridiculous amount?"

  A pressure surged. I barely dodged as the force behind the dragon’s kick crashed, shattering the ruins behind me.

  This was unfair. Not only was its magic overwhelming, but its physical force

  Tripled.

  “You amuse me, human; however, I’m afraid we must end this struggle now,” the dragon finally spoke.

  “Took the words out of my mouth,” I replied, sprinting toward the undead dragon.

  The dragon was intrigued. The dragon had never seen someone run toward their death.

  I threw the appearance-altering glasses at it.

  It caught them and crushed them.

  “What a futile attempt,” it mocked, believing victory was within its grasp.

  The teleportation scroll glowed, wrapped around the glasses glowed in a blinding light banishing the undead dragon from the battlefield. As the glow faded, I slumped in exhaustion.

  Such a troublesome ordeal for survival.