The Demi-God Dragon and the Legendary Warrior

The roar of a dragon, vast enough to span three hundred meters, echoed across the sky and the earth, creating a soundscape only seen in infernal depths. As the forest of illusion-turned-reality wailed with the cries of humanity, broken bones and bloodied flesh painted a macabre scene fit only for the abysses of hell.

This was a massacre in its purest form. Against the ancient dragon from times forgotten, humans were but pitiful ants gazing upward, their resistance futile, their efforts no more than playthings for the dragon's amusement. Their fate had been sealed towards death from the very start.

As Drake obliterated the human soldiers, he faintly perceived what seemed like minor annoyances—small fireballs and lightning zipped towards him. But, with the dragon's innate magic resistance and his near-divine status, these feeble attempts by human low-tier mages barely caught his attention. They were like flea bites, likely swept away in a breath of his emerald dragonfire.

These mages were too insignificant for Drake to even remember.

"The dragon, followers of the War God will not submit so easily!"

Amidst the eerie stillness, broken only by the dragon's roars and human screams, a furious shout suddenly rang out.

Out of the corner of his eye, Drake noticed a small streak of light, like a firefly trying to shine in the daylight. With a casual swat akin to flicking a fly, Drake brushed it aside.

Abiel's entire being blazed with a resplendent light, his warrior's aura condensed within him, seemingly wreathed in flames, and he invoked the will of the divine to merge with his own.

For the first time, the diminutive human caught Drake's notice. In that moment, the man's will seemed to ascend, his presence magnified greatly.

It was the true essence of war, the burning of battle, the same aura Drake had seen among the soldiers earlier.

As the dragon's claw came down, Abiel, dwarfed by the sheer scale of the beast, faced the pressure of an approaching mountain. Yet he charged towards it fearlessly.

"AAAAAAHHH—"

Abiel's enraged bellow was underpinned by the emblem of a fleur-de-lis, symbolizing the will of a human elite corps. The collective cries of his kin melded with Abiel's sword, becoming one with the blade in his grasp.

Closer now, Abiel felt the overwhelming divinity radiating from the dragon. His own legendary aura, fueled by years of combat, dissolved beneath the dragon's celestial domain like snow under the sun. Were it not for his transcendence into the legendary realm beyond mortal limits, he would have been reduced to an illusion under the dragon's emerald glare.

Even so, Abiel's aura dissipated rapidly, yet he spared no concern, driving his sword towards the dragon's claw in a thunderous battlecry.

His weapon, the legendary 'Sword of the Holy Fleurs-de-lis,' was nearly divine after absorbing the will of the legion and human faith—capable of wounding gods themselves!

"Tzzz—"

The sight of the holy sword piercing the dragon's scales, embedding into its claw, flooded Abiel with elation.

But before he could press further, the dragon, as if pained, slammed its claw down onto him with rage.

"BOOM—"

Abiel was sent flying, crashing through ancient trees across miles before forming a crater in the earth as if struck by a meteor.

Drake cautiously lifted his claw to his eye, examining the 'toothpick' embedded beneath his scales, as drops of blood oozed from the wound. The holy aura from the sword caused him an unfamiliar pang of pain, akin to a needle prick. Though insignificant, the sword had proven its ability to harm even a demi-god dragon.

Carefully gripping the hilt, Drake removed the sword from his flesh.

He scrutinized the delicate blade, more ornamental than practical. Though new to this world, Drake recognized its value—it was a treasure.

After consideration, he tucked the sword into the crevice of his scales, concealing it for safekeeping.

Then, turning his attention to the crater, he saw the human who had wounded him, incredibly still alive, crawling from the pit.

Drake was astounded. The force of his claw should have obliterated any human into unrecognizable pulp, yet this man appeared only slightly injured, as though his body were made of iron and steel.

'Too presumptuous!'

Drake muttered inwardly. To the naked eye, the human seemed unremarkable, but his resilience and the holy sword capable of wounding a demi-god, coupled with surviving the crushing blow, would have made him an invincible superhuman on Earth.

Standard firearms and artillery wouldn't scratch him, and capturing his swift figure would likely require radar or similar technology.

This moment anchored Drake's realization that he was indeed in a different world, not a medieval one. Given the human's displayed power, Drake was fortunate to be in his current demi-god form—a mere fledgling dragon would have been decapitated by that strike.

The powerful beings of this world were not as weak as he had imagined—it was just that Drake's present form was overwhelmingly powerful.