Absolute Cheater

The gondola glided smoothly across the calm waters of the island park, its lantern-lit frame casting soft ripples across the glowing canal. Asher leaned on the edge, wind brushing past his hair as Freya laughed beside him, feeding glowing petals to a flock of floating koi birds that danced around the boat.

Valeris, eyes closed, rested her head on Asher's shoulder, while Catherine and Veyra chatted quietly near the back, the city lights twinkling behind them. Everything was perfect. Peaceful.

Until a deep, echoing boom shattered the air.

The sky above the island flared orange as a sudden explosion rocked the far end of the park—sending birds scattering and lights flickering.

"What the hell—" Freya shot up, already drawing her dagger from her boot.

From across the canal bridge, chaos broke out. People screamed and ran, lanterns falling into the water as stall owners grabbed what they could. One of the performers dove off the floating stage as something heavy and metallic landed with a massive crash.

"Get down!" Catherine hissed, grabbing Veyra and pulling her under the side of the gondola canopy.

Asher stood calmly. His eyes narrowed as a hulking figure emerged from the smoke—a Sharkman, nearly eight feet tall, his skin blue-gray and gleaming like wet steel. His back had fin-like ridges, his jaw full of jagged teeth. In one hand, he held a large selkie harpoon, the tip wrapped in some sort of crackling dark energy. In the other, he cradled a handheld bazooka-like weapon, glowing sickly green.

And beside him… others began to emerge. At least seven more figures—some with crab-like claws, others with eel-like whips, fins along their arms and gills on their necks.

"Void-Rank auras," Asher muttered, his tone sharpening. "Low-tier. But a few feel heavier."

Catherine's expression didn't changed as she said. "This isn't some random gang. That's Dreadfin Syndicate. They're Mirion's most wanted underwater smugglers. Piracy, slavery, artifact theft. And the one leading them—"

She pointed to the Sharkman stepping forward, slamming the back of his bazooka on his shoulder with a grunt.

"Sorlak the Maw-Rider," she said. "One of the seven captains. He eats people. Literally."

A scream confirmed the horror. A woman on the far dock was suddenly snatched and hurled into the air. Sorlak, the shark-faced intruder, unhinged his jaw like some deep-sea predator—and caught her mid-fall.

Crunch.

The sound made people freeze in terror. Asher grimaced, disgust crawling across his face. He had just eaten, the taste of sweet treats still fresh on his tongue—and now this.

"What a buzzkill," he muttered, wiping his mouth. "I feel like vomiting."

Valeris hissed beside him, her eyes narrowed. "He ruined the whole night. This place was supposed to be peaceful."

Catherine, already analyzing the situation, stepped closer. "That's Sorlak. One of the lieutenants of the Dreadfin Syndicate. I've read dossiers—he's wanted in over three city-states. This attack... it's weird why are they attacking a public place?."

Freya looked shaken. "Who does that in a public park?!"

The air grew tense as a powerful Void-ranked aura flared nearby—several more enemies were emerging from hidden corners of the island. Enforcers in mismatched gear. Pirates with bio-grafted fins. Shadowy figures climbing up the bridges.

Valeris exhaled sharply. "We're surrounded."

Asher's eyes sharpened. "Then let's make an opening."

He raised his hand.

A crack split the air.

With a pulse of soul force, he summoned his Reaper—the Dread Dragon King—whose roar shook the sky like a storm breaking through reality. Tourists scattered. The air twisted with pressure as the colossal skeletal dragon, wreathed in crimson haze and cursed winds, descended behind Asher with its jaws wide and wings blotting out the stars.

Sorlak turned.

Too late.

The Dread Dragon King's roar flattened everything in its path. The nearby attackers faltered as their shadows peeled off the ground and twisted into black chains.

"They started this," Asher said, stepping forward coldly. "Let's finish it before dessert melts."

The night that had once shimmered with lantern lights and laughter was now swallowed in dread.

Asher's hand remained raised, his eyes cold and unreadable as the Dread Dragon King descended, talons like razors gouging into the floating island's stone and wood. The skeletal behemoth radiated ancient hatred—its presence alone warped the air. The very concept of light seemed to fade around it, replaced by a crimson-black fog that crept like tendrils of despair.

The Void-ranked assassins, confident and cruel just moments ago, froze where they stood.

Then they began to tremble.

Asher didn't attack.

He let them feel it first.

The Dread Dragon King's aura sank into the bones of the intruders. Their lungs tightened. Their hearts thundered, their muscles locked in place. Even peak Void-ranked warriors—killers with decades of blood on their hands—couldn't move.

One woman dropped her curved blade as her legs gave out beneath her.

Another pirate, his skin grafted with coral armor, fell to his knees, clutching his face. "It's… it's eating my thoughts—!"

"No," Asher said softly, stepping forward. "It's showing you what you are. Prey."

The dragon's eyes glowed like molten suns. From its jaws poured whispers in a tongue long erased—the language of Fear and Dread Law. Its maw parted slowly over the closest attacker, a blade dancer covered in scarlet runes.

She tried to scream.

It didn't matter.

The Dread Dragon King lunged.

It didn't devour her in one bite.

No—Asher commanded it to take her slowly.

The dragon's jaws clamped onto her leg first—ripping through Void-forged armor as if it were silk. She shrieked, her voice raw, inhuman, as blood sprayed across the ground in spiraling arcs. She thrashed and clawed at the stone, eyes bulging in terror.

"STOP!" one of the other attackers yelled, face pale, trying to run—

—and fell.

Chains of bone erupted from beneath, dragging him down as the dragon turned its gaze onto him. His body refused to move, seized by terror. His voice broke into sobs.

"No—no please—not like this—not like this—!"

Valeris watched with pleased expression, while Catherine glanced at Asher. "You're not holding back."

Thisis the first time she have seen this being this Cold and Cruel.

"They wanted to bring death," Asher replied quietly. "Let them taste it. Slowly."

The pirate who begged a moment ago was now face-to-face with the Dread Dragon King's maw. The dragon didn't bite.

It breathed.

Its breath was not fire or ice. It was rot—soul-level decay—making flesh peel from bone and thoughts crumble like wet paper. His eyes turned red. His fingers cracked. His last coherent act was to scream so hard it broke his jaw.

The rest of the Void-ranked enemies were now on the edge of madness. They weren't fighting.

They were begging. Crawling. Trying to leap into the lake. Anywhere—anywhere but near that dragon.

But Asher had sealed the perimeter.

The very shadows obeyed him now, curled and hungry, herding them back toward the Dread Dragon King.

One last assassin, a masked woman who had summoned lightning knives, stared at Asher, lips trembling. "What… are you?"

He tilted his head. "The last face you'll see."

He didn't even move.

The dragon came from behind her—its tongue wrapped around her body like a chain—and pulled her back screaming into the abyss of its jaws. Her cries were cut off not by death, but by the chewing. Slow. Muffled. Sickening.

The park was painted in crimson and silence.

The Dreadfin squad had arrived thinking they'd kill a few nobles and make a statement.

Instead, they had become a warning.

Sorlak could only watch in helpless horror as all his men were killed one by one. His long, jagged saw-sword hung useless at his side. His body refused to obey him. The Dread Dragon King loomed above, an ancient beast of terror, answering only to Asher.

It was like a nightmare given form.

And Sorlak was trapped in it.

The dragon didn't just kill—it fed. Slowly. Cruelly. Deliberately. Each of his men screamed and begged as they were torn apart and swallowed whole, still alive, their pain amplified by some dark pressure Asher had unleashed.

Their screams weren't just of death.

They were of madness.

Sorlak dropped to his knees, trembling. His mind cracked, flashing to old memories—his home, a warm meal with his wife and daughter. The table set neatly. He smiled... until he realized something was wrong.

On the table was his daughter.

Cooked. Still in her favorite dress. Her glassy eyes staring up at him.

"No... no—Mimi?! Mimi!!" he cried out in shock, sobbing and crawling back, but there was no escape. His wife appeared next. Then his crew. All of them looking betrayed.

And then... the dragon was there again.

Its glowing, abyssal eyes looked into him.

And it fed.

One by one, it devoured his nightmares made flesh.

"No—stop!! This isn't real, it's not—!" he howled.

Freya stood behind Asher, her voice calm and shaken. "Just what kind of illusion he is seeing... for your his Soul to be cracking like this!?"

Asher didn't answer. His eyes glowed faintly red, and he let the Dread Dragon King continue its work.

"This is the Power of Dread Dragon King," he finally said, voice low. "A Reaper of Dread. If you're weaker than him, then expect a death so terrifying... even death itself will flinch."