Ugh… What a joke… What rotten luck…"*
His voice was laced with pain, yet dripping with sarcasm, as he slowly pushed himself off the ground, brushing dust from his body like nothing in this crumbling world was worth hurrying for.
He sighed lazily, then let out a hoarse, mocking laugh—as if the pain he felt was nothing more than a trivial joke.
*"I never thought I'd be knocked down so easily… Guess I'm really getting old… Hahahaha!"*
His laughter was heavy with self-mockery, a sneer at himself and the world around him. To him, falling was just a passing inconvenience, unworthy of anger or regret.
Then suddenly—**that** voice. The grating sound of his opponent, still alive against all odds.
*"Ooooh? Look who's still here… Did you really think those pathetic moves of yours could kill me? They wouldn't even scare a mouse! Hahahaha!"*
The taunt was laced with provocation, the kind of voice that could fray anyone's nerves. But to Alpha, it was just background noise in a dull world.
*"Hey! Why won't you look at me? Scared? Huh?!"*
His enemy stepped closer, each footfall deliberate, trying to provoke a reaction.
Then, with even more venom:
*"C'mon, look at me before I rip your eyes out and make you see me!"*
A heavy silence followed. Not the silence of fear, but of a predator amused by a foolish prey. Alpha didn't move. Didn't turn. As if granting his opponent one last chance to spew empty words before true devastation fell upon him.
Everything about the scene reeked of mockery—even the air itself seemed to laugh at the stupidity of provoking the Black Dragon.
*"Hahahaha… What a pitiful, ridiculous sight…"*
This moment was like a cheap play performed by desperate actors on a crumbling stage. Dust hung in the air, the metallic scent of blood mixing with smoke and ruin.
Alpha stood there, motionless, his cold gaze sweeping over the scene as he flicked dust off his shoulder—as if nothing in this world was worth dirtying his dark attire.
A few paces away, his massive opponent gasped for breath, eyes wide with disbelief.
*"Im… impossible… I tore your throat out… I crushed you with my own hands…!"*
The beast's voice trembled, as if his very sanity was unraveling.
But Alpha… Oh, Alpha.
He did nothing but smile—a slow, condescending smirk, the kind reserved for those who realize too late that they've challenged something beyond comprehension.
Then, in a voice thick with amusement:
*"Ooooh… Did you really think… I'd die… just because you ripped my throat out?"*
He laughed. No—he **cackled**, a deep, earth-shaking sound devoid of madness, filled only with boundless mockery. As if death itself was nothing but a tired joke repeated by fools in their petty battles.
*"Hahahaha… How stupid… How pathetic…"*
The beast staggered back, then screamed in rage:
*"GAAAAH— So you're also—!"*
But—
Alpha didn't let him finish.
In a blink—no, faster. In a fraction of a thought, Alpha moved. No roar, no threat, not even the sound of a footstep. He simply **vanished**, like a shadow dissolving into nothingness, then reappeared directly in front of the beast.
One motion.
One strike.
His bare hand cut through the air with lethal precision, so clean that the sound of impact was almost elegant—like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And in that instant—
The beast's head **exploded**.
Its body crumpled, legs still standing for a brief, grotesque moment. Its eyes remained wide in eternal shock, as if it hadn't even understood its own death.
Silence.
Eyes widened. Some soldiers collapsed from sheer terror. Others held their breath, dread wrapping around the battlefield like a suffocating fog.
And Alpha?
He stood beside the headless corpse, blood gushing from its neck like a crimson waterfall, painting the ground beneath.
He glanced at it with icy amusement, then spoke in a voice so heavy it seemed to crush the air itself:
*"...Yes."*
A single word. Yet it was enough to shatter their pride, to hammer one absolute truth into their hearts:
This was no mere dragon.
This was a **living nightmare**.
Alpha stood at the center of the carnage, blood pooling at his feet. His cold, mocking gaze swept over the humans before he spoke again, voice dripping with disdain:
*"What pitiful creatures you are… Fighting like starving dogs over scraps of life… You scream, you beg, then delude yourselves into thinking you're strong just because you clutch a sword in your feeble hands. But in the end? You're nothing. Just insects waiting to be crushed underfoot."*
Then, with a dismissive turn, he looked up at the gray sky, watching the gathering storm clouds. A faint, cynical smile touched his lips as he muttered:
*"Strange… Even the heavens are silent before me… As if they, too, are spectators to this world's absurdity. Maybe this universe was made as a stage for folly—where everything repeats endlessly. Weakness. Betrayal. Fear… And the hollow strength you all worship."*
At that moment—
The king stumbled forward, body riddled with wounds, barely standing. He crawled toward Alpha, voice broken with desperation:
*"Great beast… Alpha… Please… Help us… Or we'll all die. Our people are perishing. Our kingdom will burn. We'll do anything—build you a grand palace, a quiet place where you can rest, feast, never be disturbed… Just… save us…"*
The king was nearly weeping, head bowed in supplication.
But Alpha…
Didn't answer.
He simply stared, lips curled in a sneer, as if this display of begging was just another tedious performance.
His narrowed eyes gleamed with contempt. His smile held no mercy, no pity—just crushing silence.
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Because to him, they weren't even worth a response.
Alpha—the Black Dragon—studied the broken king, then arched an eyebrow and drawled:
*"Build me… a palace? Me?!"*
Suddenly, he burst into laughter—a booming, merciless sound that shook the very earth. It wasn't joy. It was **mockery**, so sharp it could flay skin.
*"HAHAHAHA! You can barely protect yourselves, and you promise me palaces?! What else will you offer? A box of sweets? A golden crown? Or maybe a pillow to sleep on atop the rubble of your shattered dreams?"*
Whispers rose among the trembling soldiers:
*"Is he… mocking us?"*
*"He's laughing at us like we're some pathetic joke…"*
*"Damn it… Even his cruelty has its own style…"*
The king swallowed hard, sweat pouring down his face, but he clenched his fists and whispered:
*"Y… yes. Anything you want. Just… save this land and its people."*
Alpha's laughter cut off instantly. His expression turned frigid as he leaned in, voice a lethal whisper:
*"Anything…?"*
Then, louder, with devastating sarcasm:
*"What if I asked for your life? If I demanded your soul in exchange for this crumbling little kingdom of yours? Would you do it… you wretched king?"*
The king froze.
A suffocating silence fell. Even the soldiers stopped breathing.
The king's heart pounded—fear, hesitation, dread—but then he turned, slowly, to his people. To the children, the women, the screams echoing in his ears.
He closed his eyes and answered, voice trembling but resolute:
*"Yes. Take my life… Just save them."*
Alpha erupted into laughter again—louder, darker, as if the cosmos itself were a punchline.
*"HAHAHAHA! Magnificent! I never expected this from a creature like you… I'm impressed."*
Then, with a dismissive wave:
*"Fine. I'll help you. But remember this well—I'm not doing it out of pity. I just want to see… how far weakness can cling to life."*
With that, he turned his back, leaving behind a broken king, stunned soldiers, and a city that watched him like death itself—granting them one last, fleeting chance to survive.
For now.